“Forgive me!”
She was still, and I went back to my sorrow and my joy.
“It was because I loved them so,” she said at last, brokenly. “That was why it was, even from the first—even before I knew that they—they were all I should ever have. And I loved them so!”
She stretched out her arms to the shadows and the shadows within the shadow.
“They came because I loved them—because I needed them. I—I must have made them come. Was that wrong, think you?”
“No—no.”
“I—I grant you that the toys and—and all that sort of thing were nonsense, but—but I used to so hate empty rooms myself when I was little.” She pointed to the gallery. “And the passages all empty. … And how could I ever bear the garden door shut? Suppose——”
“Don’t! For pity’s sake, don’t!” I cried. The twilight had brought a cold rain with gusty squalls that plucked at the leaded windows.
“And the same thing with keeping the fire in all night. I don’t think it so foolish—do you?”
I looked at the broad brick hearth, saw, through tears I believe, that there was no unpassable iron on or near it, and bowed my head.