“Don’t take on,” she said; “it can’t be helped. It never could be helped.”
But I wept on and would not be comforted. For the five nights that I had spent listening to her presentation of her story, and the five days I had wondered whether it were true, and for all the empty days of Mattie’s life, and the lost opportunity of her neighbors and the lonely people whom she served, tears of contrition coursed unchecked.
“Mattie,” I sobbed, “what can I do for you, what can I do for you?”
She answered my question strangely.
“I’m ready to go,” she said.
I thought she meant that she was prepared to die.
Jasper could not stand the sound of crying any longer and had descended the ladder. When she saw him she looked worried, swung her two feet in their absurd boots to the floor, and stood up shakily.
“You can take me to the town home now,” she said, with a brave little swagger.
Jasper and I were too surprised to speak.
At the amazement on our faces she became disconcerted herself. A new terror assailed her.