"It is awfully hard for you," he said.
"Every one said I was not to blame," she went on unsteadily, "that it was not my fault; but, Gifford, if they die, I shall have been their murderer!" She pressed her hands tight together to keep her self-control.
"No, Lois," he answered gently, "it is not right to feel that; your will would be to die now for either of them" ("Oh, yes, yes!" she said), "so don't blame yourself any more than you must." "Than I must ?" she repeated slowly, looking at him with questioning eyes.
"How do you mean?
They say there is no blame, Gifford." He did not answer; his face was full of a grieved reluctance.
"Why," she said, with a quick breath, "do you blame me ?" Gifford put his strong, steady hand impulsively over hers.

"I only know how you must blame yourself," he said pitifully.

"I wish I could bear the pain of it for you." "Then you say it is my fault ?" she asked slowly.
"Yes, Lois," he answered, looking down at her with anxious tenderness.
"I wish I didn't have to say it, but if it is true, if you were careless, it's best to meet it.

I--I wish you would let me help you bear it." Lois sat up very straight, as though bracing herself against a blow.

"You are right.