And so, when three months later, he decided to go to London, she did
not try to hold him back. He had worked hard on a bitter novel that
would, he imagined, fill men with amazement and women with shame, and
when he had completed it, he bound the long, loose sheets of foolscap
together and announced that he was now ready to go to London. Mr.
Cairnduff told him of lodgings in Brixton, where an old friend of his,
an Ulsterman and a journalist, was living, and Mr. McCaughan gave him a
very vivid account of the perils of London life. "Bad women!" he said,
ominously, "are a terrible temptation to a young fellow all by himself
in a big town!" and then, brightening a little, he remarked that he
need not tell so sensible a lad as John how to take care of himself.
John had only to remember that he was a MacDermott!...
But Mrs. MacDermott did not offer any advice to him. She packed his
trunk and his bag on the day he was to leave Ballyards, taking care to
put a Bible at the bottom of the trunk, and told him that they were
ready for him. He was to travel by the night boat from Belfast to
Liverpool, and it was not necessary for him to leave Ballyards until
the evening, nor did he wish to spend more time in Belfast than was
absolutely necessary. His Uncle and his mother were to accompany him to
the boat: Mr. McCaughan and Mr. Cairnduff would say good-bye to him at
Ballyards station. Willie Logan, now safely married to his Jennie and a
little dashed in consequence of the limitations imposed upon him by
marriage, had volunteered to come to the station "and see the last of"
him. There was to be a gathering of friends on the platform ... but he
wished in his heart they would allow him to go away in peace and
quietness.
It was strange, he thought, that his mother did not talk to him about
his journey to London. He had imagined that she would have a great deal
to say about it, but it was not until the day of his departure that she
spoke of it to him.
She came to him, after she had packed his trunk and bag, and said,
"Come into the return room a wee minute!" and, obediently, he followed
her.
"I want to show you something," she said in explanation. "Shut the door
behind you!"
"Is there anything wrong, ma?" he asked, puzzled by the mystery in her
manner.
"No," she answered, "only I don't want the whole world to see us!"
She went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey.
"Sit down," she said.
"Is that whiskey?" he asked as he seated himself.
She nodded her head and returned to the table.
"You're not thinking of giving me a drop, are you?" he exclaimed
laughingly.
There was a look in her eyes that checked laughter.
"If I had my way," she said with great bitterness, "I'd take the men
that make this stuff and I'd drown them in it. I'd pour it down their
throats 'til they choked!..." She poured a little of the whiskey into a
saucer. "Give me a light," she demanded.
He went to the mantel-shelf and brought the box of matches from it.
"Strike one," she said, and added when he had done so, "Set fire to the
whiskey!"
He succeeded in making the spirit burn, and for a little while she and
he stood by the table while the cold blue flames curled out of the
saucer, wavering and spurting, until the spirit was consumed and the
flame flickered and expired.
"That's what a drunkard's inside is like," said Mrs. MacDermott,
picking up the saucer and carrying it downstairs to the scullery to be
washed. He heard the water splashing in the sink, and when he had put
the bottle of whiskey back in the cupboard, he went downstairs and
waited until she had finished. She returned to the kitchen, carrying
the washed saucer, and when she had placed it on the dresser, she took
up a Bible and brought it to him.
"I want you to swear to me," she said, "that you'll never taste a drop
of drink as long as you live!"
"That's easy enough," he answered. "I don't like it!"
She looked up at him in alarm. "Have you tasted it already, then?" she
asked.
"Yes. How would I know I didn't like it if I hadn't tasted it? The
smell of it is enough to knock you down!"
She put the Bible back on the dresser. "It doesn't matter," she said
when he held out his hand for it. "Mebbe you have enough strength of
your own to resist it. I ... I don't always understand you, John, and
I'm fearful sometimes to see you so sure of yourself." She came to him
suddenly and swiftly, and clasped him close to her. "I love you with
the whole of my heart, son," she said, "and I'm desperate anxious about
you!"
"You needn't be anxious about me, ma!" he answered. "I'm all right!"
X
The minister said, "God bless you, boy!" and patted him on the
shoulder, and the schoolmaster wished him well and begged that now and
then John would write to him. Willie Logan, hot and in a hurry, entered
the station, eager to say good-bye to him, but the stern and
disapproving eye of the minister caused him to keep in the background
until John, understanding what was in his mind, went up to him.
"I'm sure I wish you all you can wish yourself," Willie said very
heartily. "I wish to my God I was going with you, but sure, I'm one of
the unlucky ones. Aggie sent her love to you, but I couldn't persuade
her to come and give it to you herself!"
"Thank you, Willie. You might tell her I'm obliged to her."
"You never had no notion of her, John?"
"I had not, Willie. How's Jennie keeping?"
"Och, she's well enough," he answered sulkily, "Look at the minister
there, glaring at me as I was dirt. Sure, didn't I marry the girl, and
got intil a hell of a row over it with the oul' fella! And what's he
got to glare at? There's no need to be giving _you_ good advice
about weemen, John, for you're well able to take care of yourself as
far as I can see, but all the same, mind what you're doing when you get
into their company or you'll mebbe get landed the same as me!..."
"Don't you like being married, then?"
"Ah, quit codding," said Willie.
* * * * *