Back Aa

Valley of the Squinting Windows

Close

[Pg 97] <h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> Rebecca wanted some light blouses. Those she possessed had survived through one summer, and it was all that could be expected of them. So one day she ran down to Brennan's, during the half hour allowed for recreation, to leave the order. When she entered the sewing-room Mrs. Brennan was busy at her machine. Her ever-tired eyes struggled into a beaming look upon Rebecca. The young girl, with her rich body, seemed to bring a clean freshness into the room. For a moment the heavy smell of the miscellaneous materials about her died down in the nostrils of Mrs. Brennan. But this might have arisen from a lapse of other faculties occasioned by her agreeable surprise. So here was the new teacher who had so recently occupied her tongue to such an extent. She now beheld her hungrily. Rebecca laid her small parcel of muslin upon the table, and became seated at the request of Mrs. Brennan. "That's the grand day, ma'am," said she. "'Tis the grand day indeed, miss," said Mrs. Brennan. "Not nice, however, to be in a stuffy schoolroom." "Indeed you might swear that, especially in such a school as Tullahanogue, with a woman like Mrs. Wyse; she's the nice-looking article of a mistress!" Rebecca almost bounded in her chair. She had[Pg 98] fancied Mrs. Brennan, from the nature of her occupation, as a gabster, but she had not reckoned upon such a sudden and emphatic confirmation of her notion. Immediately she tried to keep the conversation from taking this turn, which, in a way, might bring it to a personal issue. But Mrs. Brennan was not to be baulked of her opportunity. She began to favor her visitor with a biography of Mrs. Wyse. It was a comprehensive study, including all her aspects and phases. Her father and his exact character, and her mother and what she was. Her husband, and how the marriage had been arranged. How she had managed to gain her position. Everything was explained with a wealth of detail. Rebecca out of the haze into which the garrulous recital had led her, spoke suddenly and reminded Mrs. Brennan of the passage of the half hour. Mrs. Brennan quickly fancied that the cause of the girl's lack of enthusiasm in this outpouring of information might have arisen from the fact that Mrs. Wyse had forestalled her with a previous attack. Thus, by a piece of swift transition, she must turn the light upon herself and upon the far, bright period of her young girlhood. Now maybe Miss Kerr would like to look through the album of photos upon the table. This was a usual extension of feminine curiosity.... Rebecca opened the heavy, embossed album and began to turn over the pages.... There was a photo of a young girl near the beginning. She was of considerable beauty, even so far as could be discerned from this faded photo, taken in the early eighties. As Rebecca lingered over it, the face of Mrs. Brennan was lit by a sad smile. [Pg 99] "She was nice, and who might she have been?" said Rebecca. "That was me when I was little and innocent," said Mrs. Brennan. Rebecca looked from Mrs. Brennan to the photo, and again from the photo to Mrs. Brennan. She found it difficult to believe that this young girl, with the long, brown hair and the look of pure innocence in the fine eyes, could be the faded, anxious, gossipy woman sitting here at her labor in this room.... She thought of the years before herself and of all the tragedy of womanhood.... There was silence between them for a space. Mrs. Brennan appeared as if she had been overpowered by some sad thought, for not a word fell from her as she began to untie the parcel of blouse material her customer had brought. There was no sound in the wide noontide stillness save the light fall of the album leaves as they were being turned.... Rebecca had paused again, and this time was studying the photos of two young men set in opposite pages. Both were arrayed in the fashions of 1890, and each had the same correct, stiff pose by an impossible-looking pedestal, upon which a French-gray globe reposed. But there was a great difference to be immediately observed as existing between the two men. One was handsome and of such a hearing as instantly appeals to feminine eyes. It was curious that they should have been placed in such contiguous contradistinction, for the other man seemed just the very opposite in every way to the one who was so handsome. It could not have been altogether by accident, was Rebecca's thought, and, with the intuition of a woman at work in her, she proceeded to lay the foundations of a[Pg 100] romance.... Mrs. Brennan was observing her closely, and it grew upon her that she had been destined to bare her soul to this girl in this moment. "That was the nice young man," said Rebecca, indicating the one who, despite his stiff pose by the pedestal, looked soldierly with his great mustache. "Indeed he was all that," said Mrs. Brennan. "I met him when I was away off in England. He was a rich, grand young man, and as fond of me as the day was long; but he was a Protestant and fearful of his people to change his religion, and to be sure I could not change mine. For the sake of me holy religion I gave up all thoughts of him and married Ned Brennan, whose likeness you see on the other page." Rebecca lifted her eyes from the album and looked full at Mrs. Brennan. She wondered how much truth could be in this story. The dressmaker was a coarse woman and not at all out of place in this mean room. She imagined the heavy husband of her choice as a suitable mate for her. This sudden adoption of the attitude of a kind of martyr did not seem to fit well upon her. Rebecca could not so quickly imagine her as having done a noble and heroic thing for which she had not received sufficient beatification. Rebecca was still turning the leaves. She had hurried through this little pageant of other generations, and was at the last pages. Now she was among people of the present, and her attention was no longer held by the peculiarities of the costumes.... Her mind was beginning to wander. Suddenly she was looking down upon a photo in the older style and the anachronism was [Pg 101]startling. Had it been placed in any other portion of the album she might not have so particularly noticed it. It was the likeness of a dark, handsome man on horseback. "Who was he?" she said, almost unconsciously. A flush passed over the face of Mrs. Brennan, but she recovered herself by an effort. She smiled queerly through her confusion and said: "Indeed 'tis you who ought to know that." "How should I know?"—Rebecca was amazed. "Don't you know Ulick Shannon?" It was now Rebecca's turn to be confused. Fancy this woman knowing that she had been talking just once with Ulick Shannon.... Evidently the tongue of this place had already begun to curl around her. "But this is not Ulick Shannon!" She blushed as she found herself speaking his name. "No, but it is the photo of his dead father, Henry Shannon." Mrs. Brennan heaved a great sigh as she said this. She rose from her seat by the machine and moved towards the place where Rebecca was bending over the album. She gazed down at the picture of the dead man with moist eyes.... There was silence between them now for what seemed a long time. Rebecca became alarmed as she thought that she might have overstayed the half hour. At the school the priest or the inspector might have called and found her absent from her post. She broke in abruptly upon Mrs. Brennan's fit of introspection, and gave a few hurried orders about the blouses. [Pg 102] "Will you be giving me the making of your next new costume?" said Mrs. Brennan. "Well, I'm sorry—I don't think so. You see I have it being made already in Dublin." "In Dublin itself? Well, well! that'll be the great style." She felt it as an affront to her reputation that any one who lived in the neighborhood should patronize other places for their needs. She took such doings as exhibitions of spite and malice against her. And, somehow, she could not get rid of the idea now, although this girl evidently knew nothing of her history. She was seeing Rebecca to the door when John Brennan came up the little path. She introduced him, and told how he was her son and, with vanity in her tones, that he was going to be a priest. "That'll give her something to think of, with her slighting me be telling how she was having her costume made be another. A woman that's going to have a son a priest ought to be good enough to make for her, and she a whipster that's after coming from God knows where." The mind of Mrs. Brennan was saying this to itself as she stood there at her own door gazing in pride upon her son. Rebecca Kerr was looking up into his face with a laugh in her eyes. He was such a nice young fellow, she was thinking. John Brennan was blushing in the presence of this girl and glancing shyly at her hair. Suddenly she broke away from them with a laughing word upon her lips, ran out to the road, and down towards the school. [Pg 103] "She's a very nice girl, mother." "Oh! indeed she's not much, John; and I knew well I wouldn't like her from the very first I heard tell of her coming." <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2