"I hadn't," said the girl, with a grim smile.
"Seems almost as if it might be a judgment on her," Matilda observed, after a pause. "She said she'd never speak to you again and she may never speak to anybody any more. And I've got to take care of her. That's the trouble with judgments—they never hit just the person they were meant to hit. We're all so mixed up that somebody else has to be dragged into it."
Plainly before Rosemary there opened the way of sacrifice and denial. For a moment she hesitated, then offered up her joy on the altar of duty.
"I won't be married, Aunt Matilda," she said, bravely, though her mouth quivered. "I'll stay and help you."
"What?"
"I said I wouldn't be married. I'll—I'll tell Alden I can't. I'll stay and help you."
"You won't. I won't have you speak of such a thing, let alone doing it."
"You can't help it, if I make up my mind."
"Yes, I can. I'll go and see Mrs. Marsh, and him, and the minister, and the doctor, and everybody. I'll tell 'em all everything. You go right on ahead with your gettin' married. I ain't goin' to have your life spoiled the way mine has been. You're young yet and you've got a right to it."
Matilda's Burden