"Mamma! Mamma! My God, Mamma!"
"Home, Shila; home! My husband who died for it--Aylorff! Home now,
quick! My wreaths! My wreaths!"
"O my God, Mamma!"
"Home!"
"Yes--darling--yes--"
"My wreaths!"
"Yes, yes, darling; your wreaths. Let--let me think. Freedom!--O my God,
help me to find a way! O my God!"
"My wreaths!"
"Here--darling--here!"
From the floor beside her, the raffia wreath half in the making, Mrs.
Coblenz reached up, pressing it flat to the heaving old bosom.
"There, darling, there!"
"I paid with my blood--"
"Yes, yes, mamma; you--paid with your blood. Mamma--sit, please. Sit
and--let's try to think. Take it slow, darling--it's like we can't take
it in all at once. I--we--sit down, darling. You'll make yourself
terrible sick. Sit down, darling, you--you're slipping."
"My wreaths--"
Heavily, the arm at the waist gently sustaining, Mrs. Horowitz sank
rather softly down, her eyelids fluttering for the moment. A smile had
come out on her face, and, as her head sank back against the rest, the
eyes resting at the downward flutter, she gave out a long breath, not
taking it in again.
"Mamma! You're fainting!" She leaned to her, shaking the relaxed figure
by the elbows, her face almost touching the tallowlike one with the
smile lying so deeply into it. "Mamma! My God, darling, wake up! I'll
take you back. I'll find a way to take you. I'm a bad girl, darling, but
I'll find a way to take you. I'll take you if--if I kill for it. I
promise before God I'll take you. To-morrow--now--nobody can keep me
from taking you. The wreaths, mamma! Get ready the wreaths! Mamma,
darling, wake up. Get ready the wreaths! The wreaths!" Shaking at that
quiet form, sobs that were full of voice, tearing raw from her throat,
she fell to kissing the sunken face, enclosing it, stroking it, holding
her streaming gaze closely and burningly against the closed lids.
"Mamma, I swear to God I'll take you! Answer me, mamma! The
bank-book--you've got it! Why don't you wake up--mamma? Help!"
Upon that scene, the quiet of the room so raucously lacerated, burst Mr.
Haas, too breathless for voice.
"Mr. Haas my mother--help--my mother! It's a faint, ain't it? A faint?"
He was beside her at two bounds, feeling of the limp wrists, laying his
ear to the grenadine bosom, lifting the reluctant lids, touching the
flesh that yielded so to touch.
"It's a faint, ain't it, Mr. Haas? Tell her I'll take her back. Wake her
up, Mr. Haas! Tell her I'm a bad girl, but I--I'm going to take her
back. Now! Tell her! Tell her, Mr. Haas, I've got the bank-book. Please!
Please! O my God!"
He turned to her, his face working to keep down compassion.
"We must get a doctor, little lady."
She threw out an arm.
"No! No! I see! My old mother--my old mother--all her life a nobody--she
helped--she gave it to them--my mother--a poor little widow nobody--she
bought with her blood that freedom--she--"
"God, I just heard it downstairs--it's the tenth wonder of the world.
It's too big to take in. I was afraid--"
"Mamma darling, I tell you, wake up! I'm a bad girl, but I'll take you
back. Tell her, Mr. Haas, I'll take her back. Wake up, darling! I swear
to God--I'll take you!"
"Mrs. Coblenz, my--poor little lady--your mother don't need you to take
her back. She's gone back where--where she wants to be. Look at her
face, little lady; can't you see she's gone back?"
"No! No! Let me go. Let me touch her. No! No! Mamma darling!"
"Why, there wasn't a way, little lady, you could have fixed it for that
poor--old body. She's beyond any of the poor fixings we could do for
her. You never saw her face like that before. Look!"
"The wreaths--- the wreaths!"
He picked up the raffia circle, placing it back again against the quiet
bosom.
"Poor little lady!" he said. "Shila--that's left for us to do. You and
me, Shila--we'll take the wreaths back for her."
"My darling--my darling mother! I'll take them back for you! I'll take
them back for you!"
"_We'll_ take them back for her--Shila."
"I'll--"
"_We'll_ take them back for her--Shila."
"_We'll_ take them back for you, mamma. We'll take them back for you,
darling!"