Ethan Frome
121
He paused, his eyes wandering from her
miserably. She stood silent a moment, drooping before him like a broken branch. She was so small and weak-looking that it wrung his heart; but suddenly she lifted her head and looked straight at him. "And she wants somebody handier in my place? Is that it?"
"That's what she says to-night."
"If she says it to-night she'll say it to-morrow."
Both bowed to the inexorable truth: they knew that Zeena never changed her mind, and that in her case a resolve once taken was equivalent to an act performed.
There was a long silence between them; then Mattie said in a low voice: "Don't be too sorry, Ethan."
"Oh, God—oh, God," he groaned. The glow of passion he had felt for her had melted to an ach- ing tenderness. He saw her quick lids beating back the tears, and longed to take her in his arms and soothe her.
"You're letting your supper get cold," she ad- monished him with a pale gleam of gaiety.
"Oh, Matt—Matt—where'll you go to?"
Her lids sank and a tremor crossed her face.