In the morning, Uncle Matthew was better than he had been during the
night, and Dr. Dobbs, when he called to see him, thought that he would
live for several weeks more. John went down to the kitchen from his
Uncle's room, happy at the thought that his Uncle might recover in
spite of the doctor's statement that death was inevitable within a
short time. Doctors, he told himself, had made many mistakes, and
perhaps Dr. Dobbs was making a mistake about Uncle Matthew.
He had lain late, heavy with fatigue, for Mrs. MacDermott had not
called him at his usual hour and so the morning was well advanced when
he came down.
"There's a letter for you," said Uncle William, pointing to the
mantel-shelf, where a foolscap envelope rested against the clock. "It'll
be about the story, I'm thinking!"
John took the letter in his trembling fingers and tore it open.
"They've sent it back," he said in a low tone.
"There'll be a note with it," Uncle William murmured.
"Yes!..." He straightened out the printed note and read it. "They've
declined it," he said.
"They've what?" Uncle William exclaimed, taking the printed slip from
John's hands. He read the note of rejection through several times.
"What does it say?" Mrs. MacDermott asked.
"It's a queer kind of a note, this!" said Uncle William. "You'd think
the man was breaking his heart at the idea of not printing the story.
He doesn't say anything about it, whether it's good or bad. He just
thanks John for sending it to him and says he's sorry he can't accept
it. If he's so sorry as all that, why the hell doesn't he print it?"
"William!" said Mrs. MacDermott sharply. "This is Sunday!"
"Well, dear knows I don't want to desecrate God's Day," Uncle William
answered, accepting the rebuke, "but that is a lamentable letter to
get. I must say!"
Mrs. MacDermott held her hand out for the letter. "Give it to me," she
said, and she took it from Uncle William.
"This is his way of saying your story's no good, John," she said, when
she had read through the note. "No man would refuse a thing if he
thought it was worth printing!"
Her words hurt John very sorely. He looked at her, but he did not
speak, and then, after a moment or two, he turned away.
"Now, now, that's not right at all," Uncle William said comfortingly.
"There might be a thousand things to prevent the man from printing the
story. Mebbe he doesn't know a good story when he sees it. Sure, half
these papers nowadays print stories that would turn a child's stomach,
and a thing's not bad just because one paper won't take it. There's
other magazines besides _Blackwood's_, John, as good, too, and
mebbe better!" He went over to his nephew and put his hand on the boy's
shoulder. "There, there, now, don't let this upset you! Your Uncle
Matthew was telling me the other day that some of the greatest writers
in the world had their best stories refused time after time. Don't lose
heart over a thing like that!"
"I haven't lost heart, Uncle William. I daresay it isn't as good as I
thought it was, but I'll improve. It wasn't to be expected I'd succeed
the first time!"
"That's the spirit, boy. That's the spirit!"
"Only I'm disappointed all the same. It's likely I don't know enough
yet!"
"Oh, that's very likely," said Uncle William. "You're only a young
fellow yet, you know!"
"Mebbe that story of mine is full of ignorant mistakes I wouldn't have
made if I'd been about the world a bit and seen more!"
"I daresay you're right! I daresay you're right!..."
Mrs. MacDermott came between them. "What are you leading up to?" she
demanded.
"I must travel a bit before I start writing things," John answered. "I
must know more and see more. My Uncle Matthew's right. You have to go
out into the world to get adventure and romance!..."
"Can't you get all the adventure and romance you need in this place,
and not go tramping among strangers and foreigners for it?" Mrs.
MacDermott retorted angrily.
"How can I get adventure and romance in a place where I know
everybody?" John rejoined.
"Are you proposing to leave home, John!" Uncle William asked.
"Aye! For a while anyway," John answered, "I'll go to London!..."
"You'll not go to no London," Mrs. MacDermott retorted, "and your
Uncle, Matthew lying on his deathbed!..."
"I'm not proposing to go this minute, ma!..."
"You'll not go at all," she insisted.
"I will!"
"You will not, I tell you. What would a lump of a lad like you do in a
place of that sort, where there's temptation and sin at every corner!
Doesn't everyone know that the Devil's roaming up and down the streets
of London day and night, luring young men to their ruin? There's bad
women in London!..."
"There's bad women everywhere," John replied. "You don't need to be
your age to know that!"
She listened angrily while John explained his point of view to his
Uncle William. Travel and new experiences were necessary to the
development of his mind.
"Don't you go up to Belfast every week!" Mrs. MacDermott interrupted.
"I was in Belfast yesterday," John retorted, "but there wasn't a thing
happened to me, romantic or anything else!..." He stopped abruptly,
smitten by the recollection of his meeting with Maggie Carmichael.
After all, _that_ was a romantic adventure! Most strange that he
had not thought of his love affair in that way before! Of course, it
was a romantic adventure! He had walked straight out of a dull street,
you might say, into an enchanted café ... and had found Maggie in
captivity, waiting for him to deliver her from it. She had been
lonely ... and he had come to comfort her. He had taken her from that
dull, cheerless ... prison ... you could call it that!... and had taken
her to a pleasant place and made love to her! Oh, but of course it was a
romantic adventure, with love and a beautiful golden-haired girl at the
end of it. And here he was, moping over the misadventure of a
manuscript and talking of travel in distant places in search of
exciting experiences as if he had not already had the most thrilling
and wonderful adventure that is possible to a man! Why, if he were to
leave Ballyards and go to London, he would lose Maggie ... would not
see her again!... By the Holy O, his mother was right after all! Women
_were_ right sometimes! There was plenty of romance and adventure
lying at your hand, if you only took the trouble to look for it.
Mebbe... mebbe a thing was romantic or not romantic, just according to
the way you looked at it. One man could see romance in a grocer's shop,
and another man could not see romance anywhere but in places where he
had never been!...
"Mebbe you're right, ma," he said.
Mrs. MacDermott looked suspiciously at him. "You changed your mind very
quick," she said.
"I always change my mind quick," he replied.
They heard the noise of tapping overhead.
"That's your Uncle Matthew," said Mrs. MacDermott, rising from her
chair.
"I'll go," John exclaimed hastily. "It's mebbe me he wants!"
He ran quickly up the stairs and entered his Uncle's room.
"Yes, Uncle Matthew?" he said.
"I heard you all talking together," Uncle Matthew answered. "What's
happened?"
"Oh, nothing! My story's been refused. That's all."
Uncle Matthew put out his hand and took hold of John's. "Are you very
disappointed?" he said.
"Yes, I am. I made sure they'd take it!"
"There ought to have been a woman in it. You know, John, I told you
that. There was no love in that story, and people like to read about
love. That's natural. Sure, it's the beginning of everything!"
"I didn't know anything about it then, Uncle!..."
"No, but you do now ... a wee bit ... and you might have imagined it.
You'd never be your father's son, if you hadn't a heart brimful of
love. What else were you talking about?"
John told his Uncle of his proposal to go to London in search of
experience.
"Aye, you'll have to do that some day," his Uncle replied, "but there's
no hurry yet awhile. You'd better finish your schooling first, and you
could go on writing here 'til you get more mastery of it. You might try
to write a book, and then when it's done, you could go to London or
somewhere. I'd be sorry if you went just now!..."
"I'm not meaning to go yet, Uncle!"
"Very good, son. I'd like you to be here when I ... when!..."
He did not finish his sentence, but the pressure of his hand on John's
increased.
"Eh, John?" he said.
"Yes, Uncle Matthew!" John replied. He quickly changed the
conversation. "You're looking a lot better," he said.
Uncle Matthew smiled. "Oh, aye," he replied, "I feel a lot better, too.
I'll mebbe beat the doctor yet. He thinks I'm done for, but mebbe I'll
teach him different!"
"You will, indeed. And why wouldn't you? You're young yet!"
Uncle Matthew did not reply to this. He turned on his pillow and
glanced towards the dressing-table.
"Are you looking for anything?" John asked.
"Is there a book there?"
"No," John said. "Do you want one?"
"Your ma read a wee bit to me in the night, after you went to bed. I
thought mebbe you'd read a wee bit more to me. _Willie Reilly_, it
was."
"I'll get it for you," John replied, going to the door. He called to
his mother, and she told him that she had brought the book downstairs
with her.
"Wait a minute and I'll fetch it," she said.
She returned in a moment or two, carrying the book in her hand, and
mounted half-way up the staircase to meet him. She pointed to a place
in the book. "I read up to there to him in the night," she said. John
looked at his mother, as he took the book from her hands, and saw how
tired she looked.
"Did you not get any sleep at all, ma?" he asked with concern.
"I'm all right, son," she answered.
"No, you're not," he insisted. "You'll just go to your bed this minute
and lie down for a while!..."
"And the dinner to cook and all," she interrupted.
"Well, after your dinner then. You'll lie down the whole afternoon.
Uncle William and me'll get the tea ready, and we'll take it in turns
to look after Uncle Matthew!"
She stood on the step beneath him, looking at him with dark, tired
eyes, and then she put out her hand and touched him on the shoulder.
"You'll not leave me, John?" she pleaded.
"No, ma," he answered. "Not for a long while yet!"
She turned away from him and went down the stairs again.
John returned to his Uncle's room, and sat down by the side of the bed.
He opened the book and began to read of Willie Reilly and his Colleen
Bawn. Now and then he glanced at his Uncle and wondered at the
childlike and innocent look on his face. There was a strange simplicity
in his eyes ... not the simplicity of those who have not got
understanding, but of those who have a deep and unchangeable knowledge
that is very different from the knowledge of other men; and once again
John assured himself that while Uncle Matthew's behaviour might be
"quare" when compared with that of other people, yet it was not foolish
behaviour nor the behaviour of the feeble-minded: it was the conduct of
a man who responded immediately to simple and honest emotions, who did
not stop to consider questions of discretion or interest, but did the
thing which seemed to him to be right.
"What are you thinking of, Uncle Matthew?" he said suddenly, putting
down the book, for it seemed to him that his Uncle was no longer
listening.
"I was thinking I wouldn't have missed my life for the wide world!"
Uncle Matthew replied.
"After everything?" John asked.
"Aye, in spite of everything," said Uncle Matthew. "There's great value
in life ... great value!"
John picked up the book again, but he did not begin to read, nor did
Uncle Matthew show any signs that he wished the reading to be resumed.
"Our minds go this way and that way," Uncle Matthew went on, "and some
of us are not happy 'til we're away here and there!..."
"You were always wanting to be off after adventures yourself, Uncle
Matthew!"
"Aye, John, I was, and I never went. I've oftentimes thought little of
myself for that, but I'm wondering now, lying here, whether it wasn't a
great adventure to stop at home. I don't know! I don't know! But I'll
know in a wee while! John!"
"Yes, Uncle!"
"I wouldn't change places with the King of England, at this minute, not
for all the money in the mint and my weight in gold!"
"Why, Uncle Matthew?"
"Do you know why? Because in a wee while, I'll know all there is to
know, and he'll be left here knowing no more nor the rest of you. God
is good, John. He shares out his knowledge without favour to anyone.
The like of us'll know as much in the next world as the like of
them!..."