Within, two hours of Martin's departure I had regained complete
possession of myself and was feeling more happy than I had ever felt
before.
The tormenting compunctions of the past months were gone. It was just as
if I had obeyed some higher law of my being and had become a freer and
purer woman.
My heart leapt within me and to give free rein to the riot of my joy I
put on my hat and cloak to go into the glen.
Crossing the garden I came upon Tommy the Mate, who told me there had
been a terrific thunderstorm during the night, with torrential rain,
which had torn up all the foreign plants in his flower-beds.
"It will do good, though," said the old man. "Clane out some of their
dirty ould drains, I'm thinkin'."
Then he spoke of Martin, whom he had seen off, saying he would surely
come back.
"'Deed he will though. A boy like yander wasn't born to lave his bark in
the ice and snow . . . Not if his anchor's at home, anyway"--with a
"glime" in my direction.
How the glen sang to me that morning! The great cathedral of nature
seemed to ring with music--the rustling of the leaves overhead, the
ticking of the insects underfoot, the bleating of the sheep, the lowing
of the cattle, the light chanting of the stream, the deep organ-song of
the sea, and then the swelling and soaring Gloria in my own bosom, which
shot up out of my heart like a lark out of the grass in the morning.
I wanted to run, I wanted to shout, and when I came to the paths where
Martin and I had walked together I wanted--silly as it sounds to say
so--to go down on my knees and kiss the very turf which his feet had
trod.
I took lunch in the boudoir as before, but I did not feel as if I were
alone, for I had only to close my eyes and Martin, from the other side
of the table, seemed to be looking across at me. And neither did I feel
that the room was full of dead laughter, for our living voices seemed to
be ringing in it still.
After tea I read again my only love-letter, revelling in the dear
delightful errors in spelling which made it Martin's and nobody else's,
and then I observed for the first time what was said about "the boys of
Blackwater," and their intention of "getting up a spree."
This suggested that perhaps Martin had not yet left the island but was
remaining for the evening steamer, in order to be present at some sort
of celebrations to be given in his honour.
So at seven o'clock--it was dark by that time--I was down at the Quay,
sitting in our covered automobile, which had been drawn up in a
sheltered and hidden part of the pier, almost opposite the outgoing
steamer.
Shall I ever forget the scene that followed?
First, came a band of music playing one of our native songs, which was
about a lamb that had been lost in the snow, and how the Big Man of the
Farm went out in search of it, and found it and brought it home in his
arms.
Then came a double row of young men carrying flags and banners--fine,
clean-limbed lads such as make a woman's heart leap to look at them.
Then came Martin in a jaunting car with a cheering crowd alongside of
him, trying to look cheerful but finding it fearfully hard to do so.
And then--and this touched me most of all--a double line of girls in
knitted woollen caps (such as men wear in frozen regions) over their
heads and down the sides of their comely faces.
I was crying like a child at the sight of it all, but none the less I
was supremely happy.
When the procession reached the gangway Martin disappeared into the
steamer, and then the bandsmen ranged themselves in front of it, and
struck up another song:
"_Come back to Erin, mavourneen, mavourneen,
Come back, aroon, to the land of your birth_."
In another moment every voice in the crowd seemed to take up the
refrain.
That brought Martin on to the captain's bridge, where he stood
bareheaded, struggling to smile.
By this time the last of the ship's bells had rung, the funnels were
belching, and the captain's voice was calling on the piermen to clear
away.
At last the hawsers were thrown off and the steamer started, but, with
Martin still standing bareheaded on the bridge, the people rushed to the
end of the pier to see the last of him.
There they sang again, louder than ever, the girls' clear voices above
all the rest, as the ship sailed out into the dark sea.
_"Come back to Erin, mavourneen, mavourneen,
Come back, aroon, to the land of your birth."_
As well as I could, for the mist in my eyes was blinding me, I watched
the steamer until she slid behind the headland of the bay, round, the
revolving light that stands on the point of it--stretching my neck
through the window of the car, while the fresh wind from the sea smote
my hot face and the salt air licked my parched lips. And then I fell
back in my seat and cried for sheer joy of the love that was shown to
Martin.
The crowd was returning down the pier by this time, like a black river
running in the darkness and rumbling over rugged stones, and I heard
their voices as they passed the car.
One voice--a female voice--said:
"Well, what do you think of _our_ Martin Conrad?"
And then another voice--a male voice--answered:
"By God he's a Man!"
Within a few minutes the pier was deserted, and the chauffeur was
saying:
"Home, my lady?"
"Home," I answered.
Seeing Martin off had been too much like watching the lifeboat on a dark
and stormy night, when the lights dip behind a monstrous wave and for
some breathless moments you fear they will never rise.
But as we drove up the head I caught the lights of the steamer again now
far out at sea, and well I knew that as surely as my Martin was there he
was thinking of me and looking back towards the house in which he had
left me behind him.
When we reached the Castle I found to my surprise that every window was
ablaze.
The thrum of the automobile brought Price into the hall. She told me
that the yachting party had come back, and were now in their bedrooms
dressing for dinner.
As I went upstairs to my own apartments I heard trills of laughter from
behind several of the closed doors, mingled with the muffled humming of
various music-hall ditties.
And then suddenly a new spirit seemed to take possession of me, and I
knew that I had become another woman.