_The wide, clean kitchen of a country house. To the left a door, which
when open, shows a wild country with a background of lonely hills; to
the right a fireplace, beside which another door leads to a room. A
candle burns on the table._
_Maire ni Fhiannachta, a sad, grey-haired woman, is spinning wool near
the fire. Sighle, a young girl, crouches in the ingle nook, carding.
She is bare-footed._
MAIRE. Mend the fire, Sighle, jewel.
SIGHLE. Are you cold?
MAIRE. The feet of me are cold.
_Sighle rises and mends the fire, putting on more turf; then she sits
down again and resumes her carding._
SIGHLE. You had a right to go to bed.
MAIRE. I couldn’t have slept, child. I had a feeling that something was
drawing near to us. That something or somebody was coming here. All day
yesterday I heard footsteps abroad on the street.
SIGHLE. ’Twas the dry leaves. The quicken trees in the gap were losing
their leaves in the high wind.
MAIRE. Maybe so. Did you think that Colm looked anxious in himself last
night when he was going out?
SIGHLE. I may as well quench that candle. The dawn has whitened.
_She rises and quenches the candle; then resumes her place._
MAIRE. Did you think, daughter, that Colm looked anxious and sorrowful
in himself when he was going out?
SIGHLE. I did.
MAIRE. Was he saying anything to you?
SIGHLE. He was. (_They work silently for a few minutes; then Sighle
stops and speaks._) Maire ni Fhiannachta, I think I ought to tell you
what your son said to me. I have been going over and over it in my mind
all the long hours of the night. It is not right for the two of us to be
sitting at this fire with a secret like that coming between us. Will I
tell you what Colm said to me?
MAIRE. You may tell me if you like, Sighle girl.
SIGHLE. He said to me that he was very fond of me.
MAIRE (_who has stopped spinning_). Yes, daughter?
SIGHLE. And ... and he asked me if he came safe out of the trouble,
would I marry him.
MAIRE. What did you say to him?
SIGHLE. I told him that I could not give him any answer.
MAIRE. Did he ask you why you could not give him an answer?
SIGHLE. He did; and I didn’t know what to tell him.
MAIRE. Can you tell me?
SIGHLE. Do you remember the day I first came to your house, Maire?
MAIRE. I do well.
SIGHLE. Do you remember how lonely I was?
MAIRE. I do, you creature. Didn’t I cry myself when the priest brought
you in to me? And you caught hold of my skirt and wouldn’t let it go,
but cried till I thought your heart would break. “They’ve put my mammie
in the ground,” you kept saying. “She was asleep, and they put her in
the ground.”
SIGHLE. And you went down on your knees beside me and put your two arms
around me, and put your cheek against my cheek and said nothing but “God
comfort you; God comfort you.” And when I stopped crying a little, you
brought me over to the fire. Your two sons were at the fire, Maire. Colm
was in the ingle where I am now; MacDara was sitting where you are.
MacDara stooped down and lifted me on to his knee--I was only a weeshy
child. He stroked my hair. Then he began singing a little song to me, a
little song that had sad words in it, but that had joy in the heart of
it, and in the beat of it; and the words and the music grew very
caressing and soothing like, ... like my mother’s hand when it was on my
cheek, or my mother’s kiss on my mouth when I’d be half asleep--
MAIRE. Yes, daughter?
SIGHLE. And it soothed me, and soothed me; and I began to think that I
was at home again, and I fell asleep in MacDara’s arms--oh, the strong,
strong arms of him, with his soft voice soothing me--when I woke up long
after that I was still in his arms with my head on his shoulder. I
opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled at me and said, “That was
a good, long sleep.” I ... put up my face to him to be kissed, and he
bent down his head and kissed me. He was so gentle, so gentle. (_Maire
cries silently._) I had no right to tell you all this. God forgive me
for bringing those tears to you, Maire ni Fhiannachta.
MAIRE. Whist, girl. You had a right to tell me. Go on, jewel ... my boy,
my poor boy!