The Foolish Lovers Part 25

"I hope you're not upset about it," he said.

"Upset!" she exclaimed, with a sound of bitterness in her tone.

"Yes. I know you never approved of the idea!"

"It doesn't make any difference whether I approve or not, does it?..."

"That's not a fair way to put it, ma!"

"But it amounts to that all the same," she retorted. "No, John, I'm not upset. What would be the good? I had other hopes for you, but they weren't your hopes, and I daresay you're right. I daresay you are. After all, we ... we have to ... to do the best we can for ourselves ... haven't we?"

"Yes, ma!"

"And if you think you can do better in London ... or America nor you can in Ballyards ... well, you're right to ... to go, aren't you?"

"That's what I think, ma!" John answered.

She did not say any more, and he sat at the table, tapping on it with a pencil. There was no sound in the kitchen but the ticking of the clock and the noise of the water boiling in the kettle and the little tap, tap ... tap, tap ... tap, tap, tap ... of his pencil on the table. Mrs.

MacDermott had been hemming a handkerchief when John entered the kitchen, and as he glanced at her now, he saw that her head was bent over it again. He looked at her for a long while, it seemed to him, but she did not raise her head to return his look. If she would only rebuke him for wishing to go ... but this awful silence!...

He looked about the kitchen, as if he were a.s.suring himself that the old, familiar things were still in their places. He would be glad, of course, to go away from home, because he wished to adventure into bigger things ... but he would be sorry to go, too. There was something very dear and friendly about the house. He had experienced much love and care in it, and had had much happiness here. Nevertheless, he would be glad to go. He needed a change, he wished to have things happening to him. He remembered very vividly something that his Uncle Matthew had said to him in this very room. "Sure, what does it matter whether you're happy and contented or not, so long as things are happening to you!"

That was the right spirit. Uncle Matthew had known all the time what was the right life for a man to lead, even although he had never gone out into the world himself. What if Maggie Carmichael _had_ treated him badly? _If love be rough with you, be rough with love!_ Who was Maggie Carmichael anyway? One woman in a world full of women! She was only Maggie Carmichael ... or Maggie whatever the policeman's name was! _If love be rough with you, be rough with love!_ ... Oh, he would, he would! There were finer women in the world than Maggie Carmichael, and what was to prevent him from getting the finest woman amongst them if he wanted her. Had it not been said of his father that he could have taken a queen from a king's bed, lifted her clean out of a palace in face of the whole court and taken her to his home, a happy and contented woman?... Well, then, what one MacDermott could do, another MacDermott could do....

His mother got up from her chair and, putting down her hemmed handkerchief, said, "It's time I wet the tea!"

VIII

He watched her as she went about the kitchen, making preparations for the meal, and he wondered why it was that she did not look at him. Very carefully she averted her eyes from him as she pa.s.sed from the fireplace to the scullery; and when she had to approach the place where he was sitting, she did so with downcast gaze. Suddenly he knew why she would not look at him. He knew that if she were to do so, she would cry, and as the knowledge came to him, a great tenderness for her arose in his heart, and he stood up and putting out his hands drew her to him and kissed her. And then she cried. Her body shook with sobs as she clung to him, her face thrust tightly against his breast. But she did not speak. Uncle William, coming from the shop, looked into the kitchen for a moment, but, observing his sister's grief, went hurriedly back to the shop.

"Don't, ma!" John pleaded, holding her as if she were a distressed child.

"I can't help it, John," she cried. "I'll be all right in a wee while, but I can't help it yet!"

After a time, she gained control of herself, and gradually her sobs subsided, and then they ceased.

"I didn't mean to cry," she said.

"No, ma!"

"But I couldn't control myself any longer. I'll not give way again, John!"

She went to the scullery and returned with cups and saucers which she put on the table.

"Would you like some soda-bread or wheaten farls?" she asked.

"I'll have them both," he answered. He paused for a moment, and then, before she had time to go to the pantry, he went on. "You know, ma, I ... I _have_ to go. I mean I ... I _have_ to go!"

"_Have_ to go, John?"

"Yes. I ... I _have_ to go. I was friends with a girl!..."

She came quickly to his side, and put her arms round his neck. The misery had suddenly gone from her face, and there was a look of anxiety, mingled with gratification, in her eyes.

"That's it, is it?" she said. "Oh, I thought you were tired of your home. Poor son, poor son, did she not treat you well?"

"She was married this morning on a peeler, ma!"

"And you in love with her?" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Aye, ma!"

"The woman's a fool," said Mrs. MacDermott. "You're well rid of her!..."

He saw now that there would be no further objection made by his mother against his going from home. As clearly as if she had said so, he understood that she now regarded his departure from home as a pilgrimage from which in due time he would return, purged of his grief.

And she was content.

"A woman that would marry a peeler when she might marry a MacDermott, is not fit to marry a MacDermott," she said, almost to herself.

IX

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.