The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats. Volume 4 of 8. The Hour-glass. Cathleen ni Houlihan. The Golden Helmet. The Irish Dramatic Movement. Yeats William Butler
he gave in at the end.
You seem well pleased to be handling the money, Peter.
Indeed, I wish I had had the luck to get a hundred pounds, or twenty pounds itself, with the wife I married.
Well, if I didn’t bring much I didn’t get much. What had you the day I married you but a flock of hens and you feeding them, and a few lambs and you driving them to the market at Ballina. [She is vexed and bangs a jug on the dresser.] If I brought no fortune I worked it out in my bones, laying down the baby, Michael that is standing there now, on a stook of straw, while I dug the potatoes, and never asking big dresses or anything but to be working.
That is true, indeed.
Leave me alone now till I ready the house for the woman that is to come into it.
You are the best woman in Ireland, but money is good, too. [He begins handling the money again and sits down.] I never thought to see so much money within my four walls. We can do great things now we have it. We can take the ten acres of land we have a chance of since Jamsie Dempsey died, and stock it. We will go to the fair of Ballina to buy the stock. Did Delia ask any of the money for her own use, Michael?
She did not, indeed. She did not seem to take much notice of it, or to look at it at all.
That’s no wonder. Why would she look at it when she had yourself to look at, a fine, strong young man? it is proud she must be to get you; a good steady boy that will make use of the money, and not be running through it or spending it on drink like another.
It’s likely Michael himself was not thinking much of the fortune either, but of what sort the girl was to look at.
Well, you would like a nice comely girl to be beside you, and to go walking with you. The fortune only lasts for a while, but the woman will be there always.
They are cheering again down in the town. Maybe they are landing horses from Enniscrone. They do be cheering when the horses take the water well.
There are no horses in it. Where would they be going and no fair at hand? Go down to the town, Patrick, and see what is going on.
Will Delia remember, do you think, to bring the greyhound pup she promised me when she would be coming to the house?
She will surely.
It will be Patrick’s turn next to be looking for a fortune, but he won’t find it so easy to get it and he with no place of his own.
I do be thinking sometimes, now things are going so well with us, and the Cahels such a good back to us in the district, and Delia’s own uncle a priest, we might be put in the way of making Patrick a priest some day, and he so good at his books.
Time enough, time enough, you have always your head full of plans, Bridget.
We will be well able to give him learning, and not to send him tramping the country like a poor scholar that lives on charity.
They’re not done cheering yet.
[He goes over to the door and stands there for a moment, putting up his hand to shade his eyes.
Do you see anything?
I see an old woman coming up the path.
Who is it, I wonder? It must be the strange woman Patrick saw a while ago.
I don’t think it’s one of the neighbours anyway, but she has her cloak over her face.
It might be some poor woman heard we were making ready for the wedding and came to look for her share.
I may as well put the money out of sight. There is no use leaving it out for every stranger to look at.
[He goes over to a large box in the corner, opens it and puts the bag in and fumbles at the lock.
There she is, father! [An Old Woman passes the window slowly, she looks at MICHAEL as she passes.] I’d sooner a stranger not to come to the house the night before my wedding.
Open the door, Michael; don’t keep the poor woman waiting.
[The OLD WOMAN comes in. MICHAEL stands aside to make way for her.
God save all here!
God save you kindly!
You have good shelter here.
You are welcome to whatever shelter we have.
Sit down there by the fire and welcome.
There is a hard wind outside.
[MICHAEL watches her curiously from the door. PETER comes over to the table.
Have you travelled far to-day?
I have travelled far, very far; there are few have travelled so far as myself, and there’s many a one that doesn’t make me welcome. There was one that had strong sons I thought were friends of mine, but they were shearing their sheep, and they wouldn’t listen to me.
It’s a pity indeed for any person to have no place of their own.
That’s true for you indeed, and it’s long I’m on the roads since I first went wandering.
It is a wonder you are not worn out with so much wandering.
Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart. When the people see me quiet, they think old age has come on me and that all the stir has gone out of me. But when the trouble is on me I must be talking to my friends.
What was it put you wandering?
Too many strangers in the house.
Indeed you look as if you’d had your share of trouble.
I have had trouble indeed.
What was it put the trouble on you?
My land that was taken from me.
Was it much land they took from you?
My four beautiful green fields.
Do you think could she be the widow Casey that was put out of her holding at Kilglass a while ago?
She is not. I saw the widow Casey one time at the market in Ballina, a stout fresh woman.
Did you hear a noise of cheering, and you coming up the hill?
I thought I heard the noise I used to hear when my friends came to visit me.
I will go cry with the woman,
For yellow-haired Donough is dead,
With