John could not divine the reasons for the old man's glee, nor did he perceive that the mind of Padna Padna, even in the darkening stages of its end, was being lit by a horrible sneer at him and the very fact of his existence. Instead he grew to feel rather a stir of compassion for this old man, with his shattered conception of happiness such as it was, burning his mind with memories while he rode down so queerly to the grave.
As he moved away through the long, peaceful aisles of the trees, his soul was filled with gray questioning because of what he had just seen of his father and because of the distant connection of his mother with the incident. Why was it at all that his mother had never been able to save his father?
As he emerged from the last circle of the woods there seemed to be a shadow falling low over the fields. He went with no eagerness towards the house of his mother. This was Sunday, and it was her custom to spend a large portion of the Sabbath in speaking of her neighbors. But she would never say anything about his father, even though Ned Brennan would not be in the house.
CHAPTER VI
Just now there happened something of such unusual importance in the valley that Mrs. Brennan became excited about it. The assistant teacher of Tullahanogue Girls' School, Miss Mary Jane O'Donovan, had left, and a new assistant was coming in her stead. Miss O'Donovan had always given the making of her things to Mrs. Brennan, so she spoke of her, now that she was gone, as having been "a very nice girl." Just yet, of course, she was not in a position to say as much about the girl who was coming. But the entry of a new person into the life of the valley was a great event! Such new things could be said!
On Monday morning Mrs. Brennan called her son into the sewing-room to describe the imminent nature of the event. The sense of depression that had come upon him during the previous day did not become averted as he listened.
What an extraordinary mixture this woman who was his mother now appeared before his eyes! And yet he could not question her in any action or in any speech; she was his mother, and so everything that fell from her must be taken in a mood of noble and respectful acceptance. But she was without charity, and as he saw her in this guise he was compelled to think of his father and the incident of yesterday, and he could not help wondering. He suddenly realized that what was happening presently in this room was happening in every house down the valley. Even before her coming she was being condemned. It was beneath the shadow of this already created cloud she would have to live and move and earn her little living in the schoolhouse of Tullahanogue. John Brennan began to have some pity for the girl.
Ned Brennan now appeared at the door leading to the kitchen and beckoned to his wife. She went at his calling, and John noticed that at her return some part of her had fallen away. His father went from the house whistling at a pitch that was touched with delight.