"Good morning, Mrs. Brennan!"
"Good morning, Mr. Clarke!"
"You're not at the races of Mullaghowen?"
"Not yet, Mrs. Brennan, but I'm going—and with the Houlihans of Clonabroney."
[Pg 19]
"The Houlihans of Clonabroney, well, well; that's what you might call a quality drive."
"Oh, indeed, 'tis almost exclusively to the quality and to the priests my drives are confined, Mrs. Brennan. I'm not patronized by the beggars of the valley."
"That's right, Mr. Clarke, that's right. Keep your car clean at all costs.... It's what I just stopped you to see if you could drive me over to Kilaconnaghan to meet my son John on Thursday. He's coming home."
"Is that so? Well you may say that's grand, Mrs. Brennan. Oh, indeed, John is the rare credit to you, so he is. You should be proud of him, for 'tis the fine beautiful thing to be going on for the Church. In fact, do ye know what it is, Mrs. Brennan? Only I'm married, I'd be thinking this very minute of giving up motor, shop, land and everything and going into a monastery9. I would so."
"Now aren't you the fine, noble-minded man to be thinking of the like?"
"I am so.... Well, I'll drive you, Mrs. Brennan. On Thursday, you say, to Kilaconnaghan. The round trip will cost you fifteen shillings."
"Fifteen shillings?"
Charlie Clarke had already re-started the car which was again humming dustily down the road. Mrs. Brennan turned wearily into the sewing-room and seated herself once more by the machine. She was crushed a little by the thought of the fifteen shillings. She saw clearly before her the long procession of the hours of torture for her eyes that the amount represented. It appeared well that she had not given the few coppers10 to old Marse Prendergast, for, even as things stood,[Pg 20] she must approach some of her customers towards the settlement of small accounts to enable her to spend fifteen shillings in the display of her pride.... For eighteen years it had been thus with her, this continual scraping and worrying about money. She wondered and wondered now was she ever destined11 to find release from mean tortures. Maybe when her son had become a priest he would be good to his mother? She had known of priests and the relatives of priests, who had grown amazingly rich.
She was recalled from her long reverie by the return of Ned Brennan from Garradrimna. The signs of drink were upon him.
"Where's me dinner?" he said, in a flat, heavy voice.
"Your dinner, is it? Oh dear, dear, 'tis how I never thought of putting it on yet. I had a letter from John, and sure it set me thinking. God knows I'll have it ready for you as soon as I can."
"Aye, John. A letter from John.... Begad.... Begad.... And I wanting me dinner!"
"So you'll have it, so you'll have it. Now aren't you the wild, impatient man? Can't you wait a minute?"
"I never did see such a woman as you, and I in a complete hurry. Three slates12 slipped down off the school roof in the bit of wind the other night, and I'm after getting instructions from Father O'Keeffe to put them on."
"Ah, sure, 'tis well I know how good and industrious13 you are, Ned. That's the sixth time this year you've put on the very same slates. You're a good man, indeed, and a fine tradesman."
[Pg 21]
For the moment his anger was appeased14 by this ironical15 compliment, which she did not intend as irony16; but at heart he was deeply vexed17 because he was going to do this little job. She knew he must be talking of it for months to come. When the few shillings it brought him were spent she must give him others and others as a continuous reward for his vast effort. This she must do as a part of her tragic18 existence, while beholding19 at the same time how he despised her in his heart.
But, just now, the bitterness of this realization20 did not assail21 her with the full power of the outer darkness, for her mind was lit brilliantly to-day by the thought of John. And during the hours that passed after she had fitted out Ned for his adventurous22 expedition to the roof she could just barely summon up courage to turn the machine, so consumed was she by a great yearning23 for her son.
The days, until Thursday, seemed to stretch themselves into an age. But at three o'clock, when Charlie Clarke's white motor drew up at the door, she was still preparing for the journey. In the room which had known another aspect of her life she had been adorning24 herself for long hours. The very best clothes and all the personal ornaments25 in her possession must needs be brought into use. For it had suddenly appeared to her that she was about to enter into an unique ceremony comparable only to the ordination26 of John.
Searching in an unfrequented drawer of the dressing-table for hair-pins, she had come upon an old cameo-brooch, one of Henry Shannon's costly27 presents to her during the period of their strange "honeymoon28." It was a pretty thing, so massive and so [Pg 22]respectable-looking. It was of that heavy Victorian period to which her story also belonged. With trembling hands she fastened it upon her bosom29. In a deeper recess30 of the drawer she came upon a powder puff31 in a small round box, which still held some of the aid to beauty remaining dry and useful through all the years. She had once used it to heighten her graces in the eyes of Henry Shannon. And now, for all the blanching32 trouble through which she had passed, she could not resist the impulses of the light woman in her and use it to assert her pride in her son. It must be a part of her decking-out as she passed through the valley in a motor for the first time, going forth33 to meet her son.
She took her seat at last by the side of Charlie Clarke, and passed proudly down the valley road. Things might have gone as agreeably as she had planned but for the peculiar34 religious warp35 there was in Charlie. He might have talked about the mechanism36 of his car or remarked at length upon the beauty of the summer day, but he must inevitably37 twist the conversation in the direction of religion.
"I suppose," said he, "that it's a fine thing to be the mother of a young fellow going on for the Church. It must make you very contented38 in yourself when you think of all the Masses he will say for you during your lifetime and all the Masses he will say for the repose39 of your soul when you are dead and gone."
"Aye, indeed, that's a grand and a true saying for you, Mr. Clarke. But sure what else could one expect from you, and yourself the good man that goes to Mass every day?"
"And, Mrs. Brennan, woman dear, to see him saying[Pg 23] the Holy Mass, and he having his face shining with the Light of Heaven!"
"A beautiful sight, Mr. Clarke, as sure as you're there."
The car was speeding along merrily, and now it had just passed, with a slight bump, over the culvert of a stream, which here and there was playing musically about little stones, and here and there was like bits of molten silver spitting in the sun. It was a grand day.
Whether or not the unusual sensation of the throbbing40 car was too much for Mrs. Brennan, she was speaking little although listening eagerly to the words of Charlie Clarke, asking him once or twice to repeat some sentences she had been kept from hearing by the noise of the engine. Now she was growing more and more silent, for they had not yet passed out of the barony of Tullahanogue. She saw many a head suddenly fill many a squinting41 window, and men and women they met on the road turn round with a sneer42 to gaze back at her sitting up there beside Charlie Clarke, the saintly chauffeur43 who went to Mass every day.
Her ears were burning, and into her mind, in powerful battalions44, were coming all the thoughts that had just been born in the minds of the others. The powder she had applied45 to her cheeks was now like a burning sweat upon her skin. The cameo-brooch felt like a great weight where it lay upon her bosom heavily. It caught her breath and so prevented her maintaining conversation with Charlie Clarke. It reminded her insistently46 of the dear baby head of John reposing47, as in a bower48 of tenderness, upon the same place.
"It must be the grand and blessed thing for a mother[Pg 24] to go to confession49 to her son. Now wouldn't it be wonderful to think of telling him, as the minister of God's mercy, the little faults she had committed before he was born or before she married his father. Now isn't that the queer thought, Mrs. Brennan?"
She did not reply, and it took all she could marshal of self-possession to protect her from tears as the motor hummed into the village of Kilaconnaghan, where the railway station was. They had arrived well in advance of the train's time. She passed through the little waiting-room and looked into the advertisement for Jameson's Whiskey, which was also a mirror. She remembered that it was in this very room she had waited before going away for that disastrous50 "honeymoon" with Henry Shannon.... This was a better mirror than the one at home, and she saw that the blaze upon her cheeks had already subdued51 the power of the powder, making it unnecessary and as the merest dirt upon her face.... The cameo-brooch looked so large and gaudy52.... She momentarily considered herself not at all unlike some faded women of the pavement she had seen move, like malignant53 specters, beneath the lamplight in Dublin city.... She plucked away the brooch from her bosom and thrust it into her pocket. Then she wiped her face clean with her handkerchief.
Far off, and as a glad sound coming tentatively to her ears, she could hear the train that was bearing her beloved son home to the valley and to her. It was nearly a year since she last saw him, and she fancied he must have changed so within that space of time. Who knew how he might change towards her some day? This was her constant dread54. And now as the increasing noise[Pg 25] of the train told that it was drawing nearer she felt immensely lonely.
The few stray passengers who ever came to Kilaconnaghan by the afternoon train had got out, and John Brennan was amongst them. On the journey from Dublin he had occupied a carriage with Myles Shannon, who was the surviving brother of Henry Shannon and the magnate of the valley. The time had passed pleasantly enough, for Mr. Shannon was a well-read, interesting man. He had spoken in an illuminating55 way of the Great War. He viewed it in the light of a scourge56 and a just reckoning of calamity57 that the nations must pay for bad deeds they had done. "It is strange," said he, "that even a nation, just like an individual, must pay its just toll58 for its sins. It cannot escape, for the punishment is written down with the sin. There is not one of us who may not be made to feel the wide sweep of God's justice in this Great War, even you, my boy, who may think yourself far removed from such a possibility."
These were memorable59 words, and John Brennan allowed himself to fall into a spell of silence that he might the better ponder them. Looking up suddenly, he caught the other gazing intently at him with a harsh smile upon his face.
So now that they were to part they turned to shake hands.
"Good-by, Mr. Brennan!" said Myles Shannon to the student. "I wish you an enjoyable holiday-time. Maybe you could call over some evening to see my nephew Ulick, my brother Henry's son. He's here on holidays this year for the first time, and he finds the[Pg 26] valley uncommonly60 dull after the delights of Dublin. He's a gay young spark, I can tell you, but students of physic are generally more inclined to be lively than students of divinity."
This he said with a flicker61 of his harsh smile as they shook hands, and John Brennan thanked him for his kind invitation. Catching62 sight of Mrs. Brennan, Mr. Shannon said, "Good-day!" coolly and moved out of the station.
To Mrs. Brennan this short conversation on the platform had seemed protracted63 to a dreadful length. As she beheld64 it from a little distance a kind of desolation had leaped up to destroy the lovely day. It compelled her to feel a kind of hurt that her son should have chosen to expend65 the few first seconds of his home-coming in talking, of all people, to one of the Shannon family. But he was a young gentleman and must, of course, show off his courtesy and nice manners. And he did not know.... But Myles Shannon knew.... His cool "Good-day!" to her as he moved out of the station appeared to her delicate sensitiveness of the moment as an exhibition of his knowledge. Immediately she felt that she must warn John against the Shannons.
He came towards her at last, a thin young man in black, wearing cheap spectacles. He looked tenderly upon the woman who had borne him. She embraced him and entered into a state of rapt admiration66. Within the wonder of his presence she was as one translated, her sad thoughts began to fall from her one by one. On the platform of this dusty wayside station in Ireland she became a part of the glory of motherhood as she stood there looking with pride upon her son.
[Pg 27]
The motor had surprised him. He would have been better pleased if this expense had been avoided, for he was not without knowledge and appreciation67 of the condition of his parents' affairs. Besides the little donkey and trap had always appeared so welcome in their simplicity68, and it was by means of them that all his former home-comings had been effected. Those easy voyages had afforded opportunity for contemplation upon the splendor69 of the fields, but now the fields seemed to slip past as if annoyed by their faithlessness. Yet he knew that his mother had done this thing to please him, and how could he find it in his heart to be displeased70 with her?
She was speaking kind words to him, which were being rudely destroyed, in their tender intonation71, by the noise of the engine. She was setting forth the reasons why she had taken the car. It was the right thing now around Garradrimna.—The Houlihans of Clonabroney.—Again the changing of the gears cut short her explanation.
"That man who was down with you in the train, Mr. Shannon, what was he saying to you?"
"Indeed he was kindly72 inviting73 me over to see his nephew. I never knew he had a nephew, but it seems he has lived up in Dublin. He said that his brother, Henry Shannon, was the father of this young man."
The feelings which her son's words brought rushing into her mind seemed to cloud out all the brightness which, for her, had again returned to the day. Yes, this young man, this Ulick Shannon, was the son of Henry Shannon and Henry Shannon was the one who had brought the great darkness into her life.... It would[Pg 28] be queer, she thought, beyond all the queerness of the world, to see the son of that man and her son walking together through the valley. The things that must be said of them, the terrible sneer by which they would be surrounded—Henry Shannon's son and the son of Nan Byrne.... She grew so silent beneath the sorrow of her vision that, even in the less noisy spaces of the humming car, the amount of time during which she did not speak seemed a great while.
"What is the matter, mother?" said John Brennan.
"It was how I was thinking that maybe it would be better now if you had nothing to do with the Shannons."
"But it was very kind of Mr. Shannon to invite me."
"I know, I know; but I'd rather than the world it was any other family at all only the Shannons. They're a curious clan74."
In the painful silence that had come upon them she too was thinking of the reasons from which her words had sprung. Of how Henry Shannon had failed to marry her after he had ruined her; of how the disgrace had done no harm at all to him with his money and his fine farm. Then there was the burning thought of how he had married Grace Gogarty, the proudest and grandest girl in the whole parish, and of how this young man had been born prematurely75 and, by a curious chance, about the same time as her own little child. The one thing that she always dreaded76 more than any other, in the pain of its remembrance, was the fact that Henry Shannon had married Grace Gogarty directly after the "honeymoon" with her in Dublin. Yes, it was hardest of all to think of that, and of how Grace Gogarty had[Pg 29] so held up her head all through the short period of her wedded77 life with Henry Shannon. And after his death she had gone about with such conceited78 sorrowfulness in her widow's weeds.
These thoughts had passed through her mind with swift definition, each one cutting deeper the gap which separated her from the long-dreamt-of joy of John's home-coming. And her lovely son sitting up beside her had grown so silent.
As the car stopped by the house and Ned Brennan came out to meet them, unshaven and walking doggedly79, she felt very certain that a shadow had settled down upon this particular return of John. The remembrance of her sin, from which it seemed impossible to escape, made the great thing she had planned so little and desolate80.
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1
bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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2
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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3
flout
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| v./n.嘲弄，愚弄，轻视 | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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5
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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7
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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10
coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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11
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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12
slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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13
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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14
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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15
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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17
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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18
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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20
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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21
assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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22
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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23
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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24
adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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25
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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26
ordination
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| n.授任圣职 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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28
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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29
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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30
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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31
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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32
blanching
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| adj.漂白的n.热烫v.使变白( blanch的现在分词 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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33
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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36
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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37
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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38
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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39
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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40
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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41
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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42
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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43
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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44
battalions
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| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
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45
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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46
insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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47
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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48
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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49
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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50
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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51
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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52
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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53
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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54
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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55
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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56
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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57
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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58
toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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59
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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61
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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63
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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expend
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| vt.花费，消费，消耗 | |
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66
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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67
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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68
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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69
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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70
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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72
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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74
clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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76
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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77
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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80
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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