"Mama—mama, please don't let a spell come on! It's all right. Shila's going to fix it. Any day now, maybe—"
"You'm a good girl. You'm a good girl, Shila." Tears were coursing down to a mouth that was constantly wry with the taste of them.
"And you're a good mother, mama. Nobody knows better than me how good."
"You'm a good girl, Shila."
"I was thinking last night, mama, waiting up for Selene—just thinking how all the good you've done ought to keep your mind off the spells, dearie."
"My son—"
"Why, a woman with as much good to remember as you've got oughtn't to have time for spells. I got to thinking about Coblenz, mama, how—you never did want him, and when I—I went and did it, anyway, and made my mistake, you stood by me to—to the day he died. Never throwing anything up to me! Never nothing but my good little mother, working her hands to the bone after he got us out here to help meet the debts he left us. Ain't that a satisfaction for you to be able to sit and think, mama, how you helped—"
"His feet—blood from my heart in the snow—blood from my heart!"
"The past is gone, darling. What's the use tearing yourself to pieces with it? Them years in New York when it was a fight even for bread, and them years here trying to raise Selene and get the business on a footing, you didn't have time to brood then, mama. That's why, dearie, if only you'll keep yourself busy with something—the wreaths—the—"
"His feet—blood from my—"