Back Aa

Valley of the Squinting Windows

[Pg 203] <h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> In the high, gusty evening Tommy Williams, the gombeen-man, was standing proudly at his own door surveying the street of Garradrimna. It was his custom to appear thus at the close of the day in contemplation of his great possessions. He owned four houses in the village, four proud buildings which advertised his worth before the beggars of the parish—out of whom he had made the price of them. But he was distrustful of his customers to an enormous degree, and his purpose in standing thus at his own door was not altogether one of aimless speculation upon his own spacious importance in Garradrimna. He was watching to see that some people going down the valley road upon ass-carts did not attempt to take away any of the miscellaneous merchandise exhibited outside the door. As he stood against the background of his shop, from which he might be said to have derived his personality, one could view the man in his true proportions beneath his hard, high hat. His short beard was beginning to show tinges of gray, and the deepening look of preoccupation behind his glasses gave him the appearance of becoming daily more and more like John Dillon. Father O'Keeffe came by and said: "Good-evening, Tommy!" This was a tribute to his respectability and worth. He was the great man of the village, the head and front of everything. Events revolved around him.[Pg 204] He would have you know that he was somebody, so he was. A politician after the fashion in the Ireland of his time, he organized and spoke at public meetings. He always wanted to be saying things in support of "The Cause." "The Cause" was to him a kind of poetic ideal. His patriotic imagination had intensified its glory. But it was not the future of Ireland he yearned to see made glorious. He looked forward only to the triumph of "The Cause." Upon the death of his father, also a patriot, the little mean huckstery at the tail end of the village street had descended to him; and although he had risen to the dignity and proprietorship of four houses, this establishment had never changed, for, among the many ancient superstitions which crowded his mind, the hoary one of the existence of luck where there is muck occupied a place of prominence. And like his father he was a rebel—in his mind. The more notable political mountebanks of his time were all men who had fought as upon a field of battle. Words served them as weapons, and words were the weapons that he loved; he might have died if he were not fighting, and to him talk meant battle. He used to collect all the supplemental pictures of those patriots from The Weekly Freeman and paste them in a scrapbook for edification of his eldest son, whom he desired to be some day a unit of their combination. An old-fashioned print of Dan O'Connell hung side by side with a dauby caricature of Robert Emmet in the old porter-smelling parlor off the bar. The names of the two men were linked inseparably with one of his famous phrases—"The undying spirit of Irish Nationality." Occasionally, when he had a drunken and enthusiastic[Pg 205] crowd in that part of his many-sided establishment which was a public bar, he would read out in a fine loud voice how "The Cause" was progressing, and, having learned by heart a speech of John Dillon's, he would lash it out to them as a composition of his own. Whereupon the doubly excited audience would shake his hand as one man and shout: "More power there, mister; 'tis yourself is the true Irishman, me sweet fellow!" He could be very funny too when occasion demanded, and tell stories of Father Healy of Bray at pleasant little dinners which took place in the upper story of his house after every political meeting held in Garradrimna. He never missed the opportunity and the consequent honor of singing "On an old Irish Hill in the Morning" at every one of those dinners. He was always warmly applauded by Father O'Keeffe, who invariably occupied the chair. He was treasurer of the fund, out of which he was paid for supplying all this entertainment. His wife was the daughter of a farmer of the "red-hat" class. He had been compelled to marry her.... If this had happened to a poor man the talk would have followed him to the grave. But they were afraid to talk censoriously of the patriot who had enveloped all of them. He practically owned them.... The priest could not deliver an attack upon the one who headed his lists of Offerings and Easter Dues and the numerous collections which brought in the decent total of Father O'Keeffe's income. To Rebecca Kerr had been given the position of governess to the Williams household. She had not sought it, but, on the removal of the two boys, Michael Joseph and Paddy, from the care of Master Donnellan to this[Pg 206] more genteel way of imparting knowledge and giving correction, which savored somewhat of the splendor of the Moores of Garradrimna and the Houlihans of Clonabroney, had merely accepted it as part of the system of the place. She had fully anticipated such possibilities upon the very evening of her arrival.... Besides old Master Donnellan had thanked her from his heart for the release she had been the means of affording him, and she liked the master for a quiet, kind old man who did not prate or meddle. So far she had made little improvement in either of the boys. But Mrs. Williams was evidently delighted for "our governess, Miss Kerr," was the one person she ever spoke a good word of to Father O'Keeffe. This evening Rebecca was in the parlor, seated just beneath the pictures of Dan O'Connell and Robert Emmet, wrestling hard with the boys. All at once her pupils commanded her to be silent. "Whist!" they said in unison. She was momentarily amazed into eavesdropping at their behest.... "Oh, not at all, Mrs. Brennan, sure and I couldn't think of the like at all at all!" "Well, Mr. Williams, as a well-known benefactor of the college at Ballinamult and a good, religious man to boot, I thought that mebbe you could give John a recommendation. It would be grand to see him there and he working himself up to the summit of his ambition. There would be a great reward to your soul for doing the like of that, Mr. Williams, as sure as you're there." "And now, woman-a-dear, what about my own sons, Michael Joseph and Paddy?" "Oh, indeed, there's no fear of them, Mr. Williams!" [Pg 207] "But I could not think of jeopardizing them while I'd be doing for the families or the sons of the stranger." "But sure, sir, I'll pay you at any rate of interest you like if only you could see your way to give me this help. Enough to buy a bicycle that'll take him over to Ballinamult every day and your grand recommendation to the priests that'll be worth gold. I'll pay you every penny I can, and sure the poor boy will repay you everything when he comes into the position that's due to him." "Well, I don't know. I don't think the missus—" At this very moment Mrs. Williams came into the parlor where Rebecca sat with them, and beamed upon her sons. "Oh, my poor boys, sure it is killed you are with the terrible strain of the study. Sure it is what you'd better go out into the fields now with the pony; but mind, be careful! You poor little fellows!" Michael Joseph and Paddy at once snatched up their caps and rushed for the door. So much for the extent of their training and Rebecca's control of them, for this was a daily happening. But another part of her hour of torture at the gombeen-man's house had yet to come. Of late Mrs. Williams had made of her a kind of confidante in the small concerns of her household. She was the sort of woman who must needs be always talking to some one of her affairs. Now she enlarged upon the immediate story of how Mrs. Brennan had been begging and craving of Tommy to do something for her son John, who had been sent home from the place he was in England. "The cheek of her, mind you, that Mrs. Brennan!" emphasized Mrs. Williams. If it had been any other schoolmistress or girl of any[Pg 208] kind at all that Mrs. Williams had ever known, they would have acquiesced in this statement of denunciation and said: "That's a sure fact for you, ma'am!" or "Just so!" But this had never been Rebecca's way. She merely said: "John Brennan is a very nice young fellow!" Although Mrs. Williams was surprised, she merely said: "Is that so? Sure I know very little about him only to see him pass the door. They say he's taken the fashion of tippling a bit, and it's to McDermott's he does go, d'ye mind, with Ulick Shannon, and not to this house. But, of course, it's my bold Ulick that's spending. Easy for him, begad, and it not his own." Rebecca saw the dirty meanness that stirred in this speech. "That's what they say and it is surely a great pity to see him wasting his time about the roads of the valley. I think it would be a grand piece of charity on the part of any one who would be the means of taking him away from this place. If only he could be afforded some little help. 'Tis surely not his fault that the college in England broke down, and although his mother is, I believe, contriving the best for his future, sure it is hard for her. She is only a poor woman, and the people of the valley seem queerly set against her. I don't know why. They seem to hate the very sight of her." "You may say that indeed, and it is the good reasons they have—" Mrs. Williams suddenly checked herself, for there flashed across her mind a chapter of her own story. She had been one of the lucky ones.... Besides, by slow steps, Rebecca was coming to have some power over her. [Pg 209] "Of course it would be no loss to Tommy if he did give this help. He'd be bound to get the interest of his money, even if he were to sell her out of house and home. He knows his business, and he's not against it himself, I may tell you; for he sees a return in many a way. It was myself that was keeping him from it on account of the boy's mother. But, of course, if you think it would be a nice, good thing to do—" "It would be a good thing, and a very good thing, and one of the best actions you could put for luck before your own sons." "Oh, indeed, there's no fear of them! Is it Michael Joseph or Paddy?" "Of course not, indeed, nor did I mean anything of the kind. I only said it to soften you, Mrs. Williams." "Well, I may tell you it's all right, Miss Kerr. Mrs. Brennan is out there in the shop, and she's craving from me man.... It'll be all right, Miss Kerr, and that's a fact.... I'll make it all right, never you fear!" In this way was John Brennan again led back into the paths of the Church. Curious that it should have been given Rebecca to effect the change in his condition—Rebecca, whose beauty, snatching at his spirit always, had drawn his mind into other ways of contemplation. In less than a week, through the powerful ecclesiastical influence of Tommy Williams, the gombeen-man, he was riding daily to the college at Ballinamult. By teaching outside the hours allotted for his own study he was earning part of his fees, and, as a further example of his worth to the community, Tommy Williams was paying the other portion, although as a purely financial speculation.... In a year it was expected he would win one[Pg 210] of the Diocesan Scholarships and go up to Maynooth. Mrs. Brennan knew more joy than had ever before possessed her. Her son was to be ordained in Ireland after all, and maybe given a curacy in his own diocese. Who knew but he might yet follow in the footsteps of Father O'Keeffe and become Parish Priest of Garradrimna while she was still alive here in this little house in the valley! <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.