But the quiet beauty of the heavens and the quiet falling to sleep of the earth had for this night no effect on one of our travellers.
Mac Cann was ill at ease. He was moody and irritable, and he moved from Eileen Ni Cooley to his daughter and back again to Eileen Ni Cooley and could not content himself with either of them.
The angels were treading at the rear of the cart talking among themselves; the slow drone of their voices drifted up the road, and from this murmuring the words God and Beauty and Love would detach themselves and sing recurringly on the air like incantations.
Eileen Ni Cooley trod on the left side of the ass. She trod like a featureless shade; her shawl wrapped blottingly about her face and her mind moving within herself and for herself.
Mac Cann and his daughter went together by the right side of the donkey, and, as he looked constantly at his daughter, his eyes were furtive and cunning.
He tapped her elbow.
“Mary,” he whispered, “I want to talk to you.”
She replied in a voice that was low from his contact.
“I want to talk to yourself,” said she.
“What do you want to say?”
“I want to know where you got the money that I saw in your hand when you buried the man?”
“That’s what I’m going to tell you about,” he whispered. “Be listening to me now and don’t make any noise.”
“I’m listening to you,” said Mary.
“What have we got to do with these lads behind us?” said Patsy urgently. “They are nothing to us at all, and I’m tired of them.”
“There’s a thing to say!” quoth she.
“This is what we’ll do. Tonight we won’t unyoke the ass, and when they are well asleep we’ll walk quietly off with ourselves and leave them there. Eileen Ni Cooley will come with us and in the morning we’ll be distant.”
“I won’t do that,” said Mary.
He darted at her a sparkle of rage.
“You’ll do what I say, you strap, or it’ll be the worse for you!” said his violent whisper.
“I won’t do that,” she hissed, “and I tell you I won’t.”
“By the living Jingo … !” said Patsy.
She came at him whispering with equal fierceness.
“What have you done on the men?” said she. “What did you do on them that you want to run away from them in the night?”
“Keep your tongue in your teeth, you—!”
“Where were you for a day and a half? Where did you get the money from that I saw in your hand when you buried the man?”
Patsy composed himself with difficulty; he licked his dry lips.
“There’s no fooling you, alannah, and I’ll tell you the truth.”
He glanced cautiously to where the others were coming deep in talk.
“This is what I did. I went to that place by Ard-Martin where we buried the things, and I dug them up.”
“Oh!” said Mary.
“I dug them up, and I took them away, and I sold them to a man for money.”
“Oh!” said Mary.
“They’re sold, do you hear? And there’s no going back on it; so do what I tell you about the ass this night and we’ll take our own road from now on.”
“I won’t do it,” whispered Mary, and she was almost speechless with rage.
Mac Cann thrust his face close to hers grinning like a madman.
“You won’t do it!” said he. “What will you do then against your father?”
“I’ll go on to the place with the men,” she stammered.
“You’ll come with me this night.”
“I’ll not go,” said she harshly.
“You’ll come with me this night,” said he.
“I’ll not go,” she screamed at him.
At the sound of her scream everybody came running to them.
“Is there anything wrong?” said Art.
“She’s only laughing at a joke I told her,” said Patsy. “Make that ass go on, Mary a grah, for it’s walking as if it was going asleep.”
Caeltia was looking at Mac Cann so fixedly, with such a severe gravity of eye, that the blood of the man turned to water and he could scarcely hold himself upright. For the first time in his life Mac Cann knew what fear was.
“Tomorrow,” said Caeltia, “we will be going away from you, let us be peaceful then for our last night together.”
“Aye,” said Patsy, “let us be comfortable for this night of all nights.”
He turned away, and with a great effort at carelessness he moved to the donkey’s head.
“Come on, Mary,” said he.
Eileen Ni Cooley trod beside him for a moment.
“What’s wrong with you, Padraig?” said she.
“Nothing at all, Eileen, just leave me alone for a minute for I want to talk to the girl.”
“You can count on me for anything, Padraig.”
“I don’t know whether I can or not,” he muttered savagely. “Keep quiet for ten minutes, in the name of God.”
For a few dull seconds they paced in quiet. Patsy moistened his lips with his tongue.
“What are you going to do, Mary?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “What man did you sell the things to?”
“I sold them to a man that lives near by—a rich man in a big house.”
“There’s only one big house about here.”
“That’s the house.”
She was silent.
“If you’re going to tell the men,” said her father, “give me two hours’ law this night until I get away, and then you can tell them and be damned to you.”
“Listen to me!” said the girl.
“I’m listening.”
“There is only one thing to be done, and it has got to be done at once: go you to the place of that rich man and take the things away from his house and bury them back again in the place they were buried. If you want any help I’ll go with you myself.”
Mac Cann’s thumb wandered to his chin and a sound as of filing was heard while he rubbed it. His voice was quite changed as he replied:
“Begor!” said he.
“You’re full of fun,” said he, thoughtfully. He covered his mouth with his hand then and stared thoughtfully down the road.
“Will you do that?” said Mary.
He thumped a hand heavily on her shoulder.
“I
