“Can you not guess? There had been words between the father and the boy: both had fierce blood. The father, in a mad minute, fired; the boy wanted revenge on Fingall, and, to save his father, laid it on the other. The old man? Well, I do not know whether he was a coward, or stupid, or ashamed—he let Fingall take it.”
“Fingall took it to spare the girl, eh?”
“For the girl. It wasn’t good for her to know her father killed his own son.”
“What came after?”
“The worst. That night the girl’s father killed himself, and the two were buried in the same grave. Cynthie—”
“Fingall! Fingall!—Oh, Fingall!”
“You hear? Yes, like that all the time as she sat on the floor, her hair about her like a cloud, and the dead bodies in the next room. She thought she had killed Fingall, and she knew now that he was innocent. The two were buried. Then we told her that Fingall was not dead. She used to come and sit outside the door, and listen to his breathing, and ask if he ever spoke of her. What was the good of lying? If we said he did, she’d have come in to him, and that would do no good, for he wasn’t right in his mind. By and by we told her he was getting well, and then she didn’t come, but stayed at home, just saying his name over to herself. Alors, things take hold of a woman—it is strange! When Fingall was strong enough to go out, I went with him the first time. He was all thin and handsome as you can think, but he had no memory, and his eyes were like a child’s. She saw him, and came out to meet him. What does a woman care for the world when she loves a man? Well, he just looked at her as if he’d never seen her before, and passed by without a sign, though afterwards a trouble came in his face. Three days later he was gone, no one knew where. That is two years ago. Ever since she has been looking for him.”
“Is she mad?”
“Mad? Holy Mother! it is not good to have one thing in the head all the time! What do you think? So much all at once! And then—”
“Hush, Pierre! There she is!” said Lawless, pointing to a ledge of rock not far away.