But she never was equal to him. I saw
that from the start; but I tried to blind myself to it.
And when he kept coming----"
"You never thought of me!" cried the girl, with a bitterness
that reached her mother's heart. "I was nobody! I couldn't
feel! No one could care for me!" The turmoil of despair,
of triumph, of remorse and resentment, which filled
her soul, tried to express itself in the words.
"No," said the mother humbly. "I didn't think of you.
Or I didn't think of you enough. It did come across me
sometimes that may be----But it didn't seem as if----And
your going on so for Irene----"
"You let me go on. You made me always go and talk
with him for her, and you didn't think I would talk
to him for myself. Well, I didn't!"
"I'm punished for it. When did you--begin to care for him!"
"How do I know? What difference does it make? It's all
over now, no matter when it began. He won't come here
any more, unless I let him." She could not help betraying
her pride in this authority of hers, but she went on
anxiously enough, "What will you say to Irene? She's safe
as far as I'm concerned; but if he don't care for her,
what will you do?"
"I don't know what to do," said Mrs. Lapham. She sat in an
apathy from which she apparently could not rouse herself.
"I don't see as anything can be done.
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