outside the poor round of diversions afforded by the valley and her meetings with ulick shannon, the days passed uneventfully for rebecca kerr. it was a dreary kind of life, wherein she was concerned to avoid as far as possible the fits of depression which sprang out of the quality of her lodgings at sergeant mcgoldrick's.
she snatched a hasty breakfast early in the mornings, scarcely ever making anything like a meal. when she did it was always followed by a feeling of nausea as she went on the road of the dead towards the valley school. when she returned after her day's hard work her dinner would be half cold and unappetizing by the red ashy fire. mrs. mcgoldrick would be in the sitting-room, where she made clothes for the children, the sergeant himself probably digging in the garden before the door, his tunic open, his face sweating, and the dirty clay upon his big boots.... he was always certain to shout out some idiotic salutation as she passed in. then mrs. mcgoldrick would be sure to follow her into the kitchen, a baby upon her left arm and a piece of soiled sewing in her right hand. she was always concerned greatly about the number at school on any particular day, and how mrs. wyse was and miss mckeon, and how the average was keeping up, and if it did not keep up to a certain number would mrs. wyse's salary be reduced, and what[pg 151] was the average required for miss mckeon to get her salary from the board, and so on.
sometimes rebecca would be so sick at heart of school affairs and of this mean, prying woman that no word would come from her, and mrs. mcgoldrick would drift huffily away, her face a perfect study in disappointment. and against those there were times when rebecca, with a touch of good humor, would tell the most fantastical stories of inspectors and rules and averages and increments and pensions, mrs. mcgoldrick breathless between her "well, wells!" of amazement.... then rebecca would have a rare laugh to herself as she pictured her landlady repeating everything to the sergeant, who would make mental comparisons the while of the curious correspondence existing between those pillars of law and learning, the royal irish constabulary, and the national teachers of ireland.
next day, perhaps, mrs. mcgoldrick would enlarge upon the excellent and suitable match a policeman and a teacher make, and how it is such a general thing throughout the country. she always concluded a discourse of this nature by saying a thing she evidently wished rebecca to remember:
"let me tell you this, now—a policeman is the very best match that any girl can make!"
and big louts of young constables would be jumping off high bicycles and calling in the evenings.... this was at the instigation of mrs. mcgoldrick, but they made no impression whatsoever upon rebecca, even when they arrived in mufti.
in school the ugly, discolored walls which had been so badly distempered by ned brennan; the monotony of[pg 152] the maps and desks; the constant sameness of the children's faces. all this was infinitely wearying, but a more subtle and powerful torment arose beyond the hum of the children learning by heart. rebecca always became aware of it through a burning feeling at the back of her neck. glancing around she would see that, although presumably intent upon their lessons, many eyes were upon her, peering furtively from behind their books, observing her, forming opinions of her, and concocting stories to tell their parents when they went home. for this was considered an essential part of their training—the proper satisfaction of their elders' curiosity. it was one of the reasons why the bigger girls were sent to school. they escaped the drudgery of house and farm because they were able to return with fresh stories from the school every evening. thus were their faculties for lying and invention brought into play. they feared mrs. wyse, and so these faculties came to be trained in full strength upon rebecca. as she moved about the school-room, she was made the constant object of their scrutiny. they would stare at her with their mean, impudent eyes above the top edges of their books. then they would withdraw them behind the opened pages and sneer and concoct. and it was thus the forenoon would pass until the half-hour allowed for recreation, when she would be thrown back upon the company of mrs. wyse and monica mckeon. no great pleasure was in store for her here, for their conversation was always sure to turn upon the small affairs of the valley.
there was something so ingenuous about the relations of rebecca and ulick shannon that neither of the two women had the courage to comment upon the matter[pg 153] openly. but the method they substituted was a greater torture. in the course of half an hour they would suggest a thousand hateful things.
"i heard ulick shannon was drunk last night, and having arguments with people in garradrimna," miss mckeon would say.
mrs. wyse would snatch up the words hastily. "is that so? oh, he's going to the bad. he'll never pass his exams, never!"
"isn't it funny how his uncle does not keep better control of him. why he lets him do what he likes?"
"control, is it? it doesn't look much like control indeed to see him encouraging his dead brother's son to keep the company he favors. indeed and indeed it gives me a kind of a turn when i see him going about with nan byrne's son, young john brennan, who's going on to be a priest. well, i may tell you that it is 'going on' he is, for his mother as sure as you're there'll never see him saying his first mass. now i suppose the poor rector of the college in england where he is hasn't a notion of his antecedents. the cheek of it indeed! but what else could you expect from the likes of nan byrne? indeed i have a good mind to let the ecclesiastical authorities know all, and if nothing turns up from the hand of god to right the matter, sure i'll have to do it myself. bedad then i will!"
"musha, the same john brennan doesn't look up to much, and they say ulick shannon can wind him around his little finger. he'll maybe make a lad of him before the end of the summer holidays."
"i can't understand myles shannon letting them go about together so openly unless he's enjoying the whole[pg 154] thing as a sneer. but it would be more to his credit indeed to have found other material for his fun than a blood relation. i'm surprised at him indeed, and he knowing what he knows about nan byrne and his brother henry."
with slight variations of this theme falling on her ears endlessly rebecca was compelled to endure the torture of this half hour every day. no matter what took place in the valley monica would manage, somehow, to drag the name of ulick into it. if it merely happened to be a copy of the irish independent they were looking at, and if they came upon some extraordinary piece of news, monica would say:
"just like a thing that ulick shannon would do, isn't it?"
and if they came across a photo in the magazine section, monica would say again:
"now wouldn't you imagine that gentleman has a look of ulick shannon?"
rebecca had become so accustomed to all this that, overleaping its purpose, it ceased to have any considerable effect upon her. she had begun to care too much for ulick to show her affection in even the glimpse of an aspect to the two who were trying to discover her for the satisfaction of their spite. it was thus that she remained a puzzle to her colleagues, and monica in particular was at her wit's end to know what to think. at the end of the half hour she was always in a deeper condition of defeat than before it began, and went out to the boys' school with only one idea warming her mind, that, some day, she might have the great laugh at rebecca kerr. she knew that it is not possible for a[pg 155] woman to hide her feelings forever, even though she thought this one cute surely, cute beyond all the suggestion of her innocent exterior.
towards the end of each day rebecca was thrown altogether with the little ones who, despite all the entreaties of their parents, had not yet come very far away from heaven. she found great pleasure in their company and in their innocent stories. for example:
"miss kerr, i was in the wood last night. with the big bear and the little bear in the wood. i went into the wood, and there was the big bear walking round and round the wood after the little bear, and the big bear was walking round and round the wood."
"i was in america last night, and i saw all the motor cars ever were, and people riding on horses, and the highest, whitest buildings ever were, and people going to mass—big crowds of people going to mass."
"my mammy brought me into the chapel last night, and i saw god. i was talking to god and he was asking me about you. i said: 'miss kerr is nice, so she is.' i said this to god, but god did not answer me. i asked god again did he know miss kerr who teaches in the valley school, and he said he did, and i said again: 'miss kerr is nice, so she is.' but he went away and did not answer me."
rebecca would enter into their innocence and so experience the happiest hours of the day.
she would be recalled from her rapt condition by the harsh voice of mrs. wyse shouting an order to one of the little girls in her class, this being a hint that she herself was not attending to her business.
but soon the last blessed period of the day would[pg 156] come, the half hour devoted to religious instruction. she found a pleasure in this task, for she loved to hear the little children at their prayers. sometimes she would ask them to say for her the little prayer she had taught them:
"o god, i offer up this prayer for the poor intentions of thy servant rebecca kerr, that they may be fulfilled unto the glory of thy holy will. and that being imperfect, she may approach to thy perfection through the grace and mercy of jesus christ, our lord."
she would feel a certain happiness for a short space after this, at least while the boisterous business of taking leave of the school was going forward. but once upon the road she would be meeting people who always stared at her strangely, and passing houses with squinting windows.... then would come a heavy sense of depression, which might be momentarily dispelled by the appearance of john brennan either coming or going upon the road. for a while she had considered this happening coincidental, but of late it had been borne in upon her that it was very curious he should appear daily at the same time.... the silly boy, and he with his grand purpose before him.... she would smile upon him very pleasantly, and fall into chat sometimes, but only for a few minutes. she looked upon herself as being ever so much wiser. and she thought it queer that he should find an attraction for his eyes in her form as it moved before him down the road. she always fancied that she felt low and mean within herself while his eyes were upon her.... but he would be forever[pg 157] coming out of his mother's cottage to meet her thus upon the road.
after dinner in the house of sergeant mcgoldrick she would betake herself to her little room. it would be untidy after the hurry in which she had left it, and now she would set about putting it to rights. this would occupy her half an hour or more. then there would be a few letters to be written, to her people away in donegal and to some of the companions of her training college days. she kept up a more or less regular correspondence with about half-a-dozen of these girls. her letters were all after the frivolous style of their schooldays. to all of them she imparted the confidence that she had met "a very nice fellow" here in garradrimna, but that the place was so lonely, and how there was "nothing like a girl friend."
"ah, anna," she would write, or "lily" or "lena," "there's surely nothing after all like a girl friend."
after tea she would put on one of her tidiest hats, and taking the letters with her go towards the post office of garradrimna. this was a torture, for always the eyes of the old, bespectacled maid were upon her, looking into her mind, as she stood waiting for her stamps outside the ink-stained counter. and, further, she always felt that the doors and windows of the village were forever filled with eyes as she went by them. her neck and face would burn until she took the road that led out past the old castle of the de lacys. there was a footpath which took one to the west gate of the demesne of the moores. the honorable reginald moore was the modern lord of garradrimna. it was this way she would[pg 158] go, meeting all kinds of stragglers from the other end of the parish. people she did not know and who did not know her, queer, dark men coming into garradrimna through the high evening in quest of porter.
"fine evening, miss!" they would say.
once on the avenue her little walk became a golden journey for ulick always met her when she came this way. it was their custom to meet here or on the road of the dead. but this was their favorite spot, where the avenue led far into the quiet woods. a scurrying-away of rabbits through the undergrowth would announce their approach to one another.
many were the happy talks they had here, of books and of decent life beyond the boorishness of garradrimna. she had given him the poems of tennyson in exchange for the daffodil fields. tastefully illuminated in red ink on the fly-leaf he had found her "favorite lines" from tennyson, whom she considered "exquisite":
"glitter like a storm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid."
"cursed be the gold that gilds the straightened forehead of the fool."
"many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,
and our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips."
these had made him smile, and then he did not read any more of tennyson.... he was fond of telling her about the younger irish poets and of quoting passages from their poems. now it would be a line or so from colum or stephens, again a verse from seumas o'sullivan or joseph campbell. continually he spoke with[pg 159] enthusiasm of the man they called ?.... she found it difficult to believe that such men could be living in ireland at the present time.
"and would you see them about dublin?"
"yes, you'd see them often."
"real poets?"
"real poets surely. but of course they have earthly interests as well. one is a farmer—"
"a farmer!!!"
this she found it hardest of all to believe, for the word "farmer" made her see so clearly the sullen men with the dirty beards who came in the white roads every evening to drink in garradrimna. there was no poetry in them.
often they would remain talking after this fashion until night had filled up all the open spaces of the woods. they would feel so far away from life amid the perfect stillness.... their peace was rudely shattered one night by a sudden breaking away from them through the withered branches.... instantly ulick knew that this was some loafer sent to spy on them from garradrimna, and rebecca clung to him for protection.
occasionally through the summer a lonely wailing had been heard in the woods of garradrimna at the fall of night. men drinking in the pubs would turn to one another and say:
"the lord save us! is that the banshee i hear crying for one of the moores? she cries like that always when one of them dies, they being a noble family. maybe the honorable reginald is after getting his death at last in some whore-house in london."
[pg 160]
"arrah not at all, man, sure that's only anthony shaughness and he going crying through the woods for drink, the poor fellow!"
but the sound had ceased to disturb them for anthony shaughness had found an occupation at last. this evening he came running down from the woods into mcdermott's bar, the loose soles of his boots slapping against the cobbles of the yard. josie guinan went up to him excitedly when he entered.
"well?" this in a whisper as their heads came close together over the counter.
"gimme a drink? i'm choked with the running, so i am!"
"tell me did you see them first, or not a sup you'll get. don't be so smart now, anthony shaughness!"
"oh, i saw them all right. gimme the drink?"
she filled the drink, making it overflow the glass in her hurry.
"well?"
"bedad i saw them all right. heard every word they were saying, so i did, and everything! it was the devil's father to find them, so it was, they were that well hid in the woods.... gimme another sup, josie?"
"now, anthony?"
"ah, but you don't know all i have to tell ye!"
again she overflowed the glass in her mounting excitement.
"well?"
