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Authors: Sara Seale

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I don

t understand it,

she said, lifting her drowned, smoky eyes to his face.

Conn and Clodagh—they were always quarrelling. Often she didn

t even seem to like him very much.


Sometimes it happens like that,

he told her.

People often fight against the very thing they want. You only quarrel with someone who means something to you.


He belonged to me,

she said passionately.

Conn always belonged to me. You heard Brian say so.


No one belongs to one person, Clancy,

he said gently.

You must belong to each other or it just doesn

t work.


I thought we did,

she said.

I always thought we did.

He regarded her gravely.


Did you
think
you were in love with Conn?

She looked confused.


I don

t know. I never thought about being in love, I just loved him—I always have. He was my special friend.

He smiled.


But one can have a special friend without the complications of being in love, you know. Had you thought about it seriously? I mean, did you hope some day to marry him?


I don

t know,

she said again.

I knew I would probably have to get married some time—Kilmallin and Aunt Bea used to say there was nothing else for me to do. And I suppose I thought it might be Conn—I think Aunt Bea did, too. You see, I wouldn

t have minded marrying Conn.
I
t would have seemed so—so natural.

He gave her his handkerchief.


Here,
take
this. You

ll be getting quite a collection soon, won

t you? Listen to me, now, Clancy. I don

t think you were in love with Conn. I think the fact that you

ve never met any other men has given him a false importance for you, that, and the fact that you were lonely. Conn is very fond of you, but it was a relationship you took too seriously. If he

d been a little more experienced himself he would have realized what he was doing, but I should
think
he knows as little of women as you do of men. I

ve wanted to speak of
this
to you before, you know, for I was afraid you were going to get hurt.

Her tears had ceased, and she sat at his feet, screwing his handkerchief into a ball, listening to him with a puckered
forehead.


Did you know about Conn and Clodagh, then?
” she asked.


I suspected, latterly,

he admitted.

At least, I suspected that he was interested in her. I wasn

t so sure about your cousin. I thought she might just ha
v
e been bored and unable to resist trying to upset any man.


You don

t like Clodagh very much, do you?


Oh, I like her well enough. There

s no real harm in Clodagh, but I felt she was old enough to know what she was doing, and you were not.

She sighed.


I suppose it was very stupid of me not to know, too. Clodagh is so gay and pretty. Dozens of young men are in love with her.


According to Clodagh.


Oh, but it

s true. Aunt Kate would tell you—she always wanted Clodagh to make up her mind and settle down. But I never thought that Conn would be her kind.


Clodagh,

said Mark a little dryly,

is a very definite young woman. She will make him her kind.

The distress came back to her eyes.


But don

t you see, Mark, that

s the worst thing of all,

she said.

For Conn to sell the farm is bad enough, but to give it all up for the city—for an office job in a city—it

s— it

s a sort of betrayal of everything he

s ever believed in.

He looked at her with gentleness.


I

m afraid you

re an idealist, Clancy,

he told her.

People have to lead their own lives, you know. Whether or not it turns out to be a betrayal of themselves remains to be seen. That

s hurt you more than losing Conn, hasn

t it?


That

s how I

ve lost him,

she said with simplicity.

Loving Clodagh—well, that can

t make me love him less, but living her life, instead of making her live his—that

s somehow wrong. I can

t explain.


I
think I know what you mean, all the same, and perhaps you

re right, but there

s nothing you can do about it. People have to find these things out for themselves.

Somewhere in the house a clock struck the half-hour and Mark glanced at his watch.


Half-past twelve,

he said.

Time you were in bed after such an evening.

But she was not quite ready to face the solitude of her own thoughts.


Let

s go to the kitchen and make tea,

she said.

He looked at her with understanding.


Very well,

he said,

only we must be quiet or we

ll have the household thinking we

re burglars.

She made the tea, waiting on him with attentive politeness, then she fetched her own cup and sat on a
milking-
stool close to the fender. Both their faces were in shadow, for the hurricane lamp threw only a small circle of light in the big kitchen, and she was quiet for so long that he asked her what she was thinking about.


Oh, people—and what you said about quarrelling,

she replied.

You never quarrel with anyone, Mark.


You and I have had one or two scraps since I came.


Yes, but that

s different. I quarrelled with you. You don

t ever lose your temper.


No, not very often. The English are a phlegmatic race.


Now you

re laughing at me. I don

t think I know you at all well, Mark. Were you—do you mind me asking—did you care a great deal about that girl—the one who was killed?

He was silent for so long that she said, a little apologetically:


Kilmallin told me, or I wouldn

t have mentioned it.


No, I don

t mind you asking at all,

he said then.

I was wondering how to answer you. If I say I thought I cared very much at the time, but now I have no regrets except for the waste of a life, you will think me unfeeling, and if I say that this was the love of my life and I shall never care as much again, that wouldn

t be true, either.


Could you try and explain, please?

He had never discussed his affairs with her, and he had never found it easy to speak of
Anne
to anyone, but suddenly her own need for comfort and reassurance made it quite simple for him to talk to her.

She listened intently without interrupting, and as he talked, the new picture of
him
which had slowly been clarifying for her ever since she had fallen off her bicycle and hurt her arm took shape, and she saw him, not just as the English tutor who did not propose to stand any nonsense, but also as a man of great integrity and kindness, with an infinite capacity for understanding.

She put down her empty cup and, kneeling on the floor beside him, placed her clasped hands on his knee.


Ah, Mark, she wasn

t right for you,

she said, her voice soft and strongly Irish as it became when she was moved.


No,

he said.

I don

t think we were right for each other. You see, Clancy, we never quarrelled.


One day,

she said,

you

ll meet someone who
is
right, and then you

ll marry without waiting, like she made you.


Perhaps,

he said, and getting up abruptly, pulled her to her feet.

An
d
now it

s high time we broke up the party. I can

t think what any respectable household would think of a tutor who indulged in midnight orgies with his pupils.

He took her face between his hands.

Good night, my dear,

he said.

May your next birthday be happier for you.

Her eyes widened.


Next birthday,

she said.

But you may not be here—Mark, you may not be here.

His smile was reassuring.


One
thing
at a time. Next birthday

s a long way off. Good night,

he said again, and stooped and gently kissed her.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CLODAGH returned to Dublin the next morning. She said that now the cat was out of the bag she must gird up her loins and tackle her mother. Conn came to fetch her and take her to the train, and Clancy stood on the front steps to see them off.

Clodagh gave Clancy a hug.


You don

t really mind, do you, Clancy?

she whispered.


Why should I mind?

Clancy asked with dignity.

Clodagh

s round kitten eyes pleaded for approval.


I don

t know why you should. After all, it will still be the three of us just the same, only better really, because we

ll all be cousins now, at least I mean Conn will be your cousin and we shall keep him in the family.


Yes,

said Clancy.


And you mustn

t mind about the farm,

Clodagh rattled on.

I expect you

ll miss popping over to Slievaun at first— after all it does give you a break from the Lord Protector—but we

ll be able to come and stay at Kilmallin when we

re married, and that will be much more fun.


Yes,

said Clancy again.

You

ll miss the train if you don

t hurry, Clodagh. Conn

s hooting.


Oh, bother the train! Well, good-bye, darling. I

m sorry if I spoilt your birthday, but I didn

t mean to, and you looked lovely in the frock. Look after Conn for me while I

m gone, and tell that superior tutor of yours I didn

t say good-bye because I think he

s very disagreeable. All
right,
Conn, I

m coming!

For the first few days Clancy seemed listless and inclined to be quarrelsome with Mark, whose apparently effortless return to their old relationship both piqued and hurt her. What had been the good, she thought angrily, of that strange new intimacy between them if he was going to persist in treating her just as a pupil.

Mark

s own motives, had she guessed them, were mixed. He wisely and quite honestly did not wish to encourage self-pity by treating her with too much consideration, and he was not ready, as yet, to face up to his own changing feelings for
hi
s pupil. He believed, out of his own experience, that work was the best antidote to a troubled spirit, and he saw to it that Clancy

s days were full and her mind well occupied.

It was at the beginning of the following week that, without any warning, Aunt Kate descended on
Kilmallin
.


Kate, dear,

Aunt Bea greeted her faintly,

why didn

t you let us know you were coming?

Kate Desmond was a big, handsome woman, very like her brother, and she possessed the assured manner of one who has had things her own way all her life.


Because,

she said in a rich, decisive voice,

if I had, your impossible brother would have found some excuse to put me off.


Well, dear, he

s your brother, too,

said Aunt Bea reasonably.

And, Kate, Kevin hasn

t been well, lately. Doctor Boyle says we mustn

t get him excited.


Fiddlesticks!

Mrs. Desmond snapped.

He just can

t keep off the drink. Clodagh told me all about it. I

ve co
m
e to speak my mind, and speak it I intend to. Encouraging my child in an affair with a good-for-nothing hobbledy-hoy when he should have packed her off home at once!


We

re all very fond of Conn,

said Aunt Bea, and her sister snorted.


I

ve no doubt he would have done very well for Clancy,

she said, and at that moment Kevin came in, a gun under his arm.


Who would do very well for Clancy?

he asked, then suddenly saw his married sister.

Good gosh! What are you here for, Kate?


How do you do, Kevin? What do you suppose I

m here for? To thank you for finding me such a presentable son-in-law?

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