Well, marry him,
then! He's got the right, and so have you."
"What about Irene? I don't want you to talk about me.
I can take care of myself"
"She's nothing but a child. It's only a fancy with her.
She'll get over it. She hain't really got her heart set
on him."
"She's got her heart set on him, mother. She's got
her whole life set on him. You know that."
"Yes, that's so," said the mother, as promptly as if she
had been arguing to that rather than the contrary effect.
"If I could give him to her, I would. But he isn't mine
to give." She added in a burst of despair, "He isn't mine
to keep!"
"Well," said Mrs. Lapham, "she has got to bear it.
I don't know what's to come of it all. But she's got
to bear her share of it." She rose and went toward
the door.
Penelope ran after her in a sort of terror. "You're not
going to tell Irene?" she gasped, seizing her mother
by either shoulder.
"Yes, I am," said Mrs. Lapham. "If she's a woman grown,
she can bear a woman's burden."
"I can't let you tell Irene," said the girl, letting fall
her face on her mother's neck. "Not Irene," she moaned.
"I'm afraid to let you. How can I ever look at her again?"
"Why, you haven't done anything, Pen," said her mother soothingly.
"I wanted to! Yes, I must have done something.
How could I help it? I did care for him from the first,
and I must have tried to make him like me.
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