Yet, immediately that the information, for which she had hungered since the rumor of Myles Shannon's marriage began to go the rounds, was in her keeping, Mrs. Brennan ceased to display any unusual interest in the old, bespectacled maid. Nor did the postmistress continue to be excited by the friendly presence of Mrs. Brennan, for she, on her part, was immensely pleased and considered that the afternoon had attained to a remarkable degree of success.... From what she had read of her productions passing through the post, she knew that Mrs. Brennan was the woman who could write the strong, poisonous letter. Besides, who had a better right to be writing it—about one of the Shannon family?
Soon she was going out the door and down the white road towards Garradrimna.... Now wasn't Mrs. Brennan the anxious and the prompt woman; she would be writing to Miss Cooper this very evening?... As she went she met young couples on bicycles passing to distant places through the fragrant evening. The glamor of Romance seemed to hang around them.
"Now isn't that the quare way for them to be spending the Sabbath?" she said to herself as she hobbled along.
The Angelus was just beginning to ring out across the waving fields with its sweet, clear sound as Mrs. Brennan regained the sewing-room after having seen her visitor to the door, but, good woman though she was, she did not stop to answer its holy summons. Her mind was driving her relentlessly towards the achievement of her intention. The pen was already in her hand, and she was beginning to scratch out "a full account," as she termed it, of Mr. Myles Shannon for the benefit of Miss Helena Cooper, whoever she might be. Through page after page she continued her attack while the fire of her hate was still burning brightly through her will.
It had been her immemorial custom to send full accounts abroad whenever one of the valley dwellers made attempts at assertion, but not one of the Shannons had so far offered her such a golden opportunity. For the moment she was in her glory.
She announced herself as a good friend of this girl, whose name she had only heard just now. She wrote that she would not like to see Miss Cooper deceived by a man she had no opportunity of knowing in his real character, such as Mr. Shannon.
Now it was a fact that Myles, unlike his brother Henry, had not been a notable antagonist of the Commandments. It was true, of course, that he was not distinguished for the purity of his ways when he went adventuring about the bye-ways of Dublin after a day at the cattle market, and people from the valley, cropping up most unexpectedly, had witnessed some of his exploits and had sent magnified stories winging afar. But he had ruined no girl, and was even admirable in his habits when at home in his lonely house among the trees.
This, however, was not the Mr. Shannon that Mrs. Brennan set down in her letter to Helena Cooper. It was rather the portrait of his brother Henry, the wild libertine, that she painted, for, in the high moments of her hate, she was as one blinded by the ecstasy that had come upon her. The name of Shannon held for her only one significance, and, for the moment, it was an abysmal vision which dazzled her eyes.
Soon there came a communication from Miss Cooper to Mr. Shannon which had the effect of nipping his green romance while it was still young.... It asked him was this true and was that true?... The easy, sentimental way he had looked upon the matter was suddenly kindled into a deeper feeling, and he thought of having the girl now at all costs.... He wrote a fine reply in justification. It was a clear, straight piece of writing, and, although it pained him greatly, he was compelled to admit that the statements about which Miss Cooper wished to be satisfied were no more than the truth in relation to a certain member of the Shannon family. But they related to his dead brother Henry and not to him.... He prayed the forgiveness of forgetfulness for the dead.... He volunteered the production of convincing proof for every statement here made in regard to himself.
But the old lady at the Post Office had something to say in the matter. She had read Miss Cooper's letter, and as she now read the letter of Mr. Shannon she knew that should it reach her this girl must be fully satisfied as to his character, for his was a fine piece of pleading.... But she could not let Mrs. Brennan have all the secret satisfaction for the destruction of his love-affair. The bitter woman in the valley had done the ugly, obvious part of the work, but she was in a position to hurry it to secret, deadly completion.... So that evening the letter, which it had given Myles Shannon such torture to write, was burned at the fire in the kitchen behind the Post Office.... He wrote to Helena Cooper again and yet again, but the same thing happened.... His third letter had turned purely pathetic in its tone. The old lady said to herself that it made her laugh like anything.