Joyce J. Ulysses

see and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes.
But who was Gerty?
Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in thought,
gazing far away into the distance, was in very truth as fair a specimen of
winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was pronounced
beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, she was more a
Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even
to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been taking of late had done
her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's female pills and she
was much better of those discharges she used to get and that tired feeling.
The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity
though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Her
hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as
lemon juice and queen of ointments could make them though it was not true
that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either.
Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was
black out at daggers drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their
little tiffs from time to time like the rest of mortals) and she told her
not let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or she'd never
speak to her again. No. Honour where honour is due. There was an innate
refinement, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was unmistakably
evidenced in her delicate hands and higharched instep. Had kind fate but
willed her to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her own right and had
she only received the benefit of a good education Gerty MacDowell might
easily have held her own beside any lady in the land and have seen herself
exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and patrician suitors at her feet
vying with one another to pay their devoirs to her. Mayhap it was this, the
love that might have been, that lent to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a
look, tense with suppressed meaning, that imparted a strange yearning
tendency to the beautiful eyes a charm few could resist. Why have women such
eyes of witchery? Gerty's were of the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous
lashes and dark expressive brows. Time gas when those brows were not so
silkilyseductive. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the Woman
Beautiful page of the Princess novelette, who had first advised her to try
eyebrowleine which gave that haunting expression to the eyes, so becoming in
leaders of fashion, and she had never regretted it. Then there was blushing
scientifically cured and how to be tall increase your height and you have a
beautiful face but your nose? That would suit Mrs Dignam because she had a
button one. But Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. It
was dark brown with a natural wave in it. She had cut it that very morning
on account of the new moon and it nestled about her pretty head in a
profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, Thursday for
wealth. And just now at Edy's words as a telltale flush, delicate as the
faintest rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet
girlish shyness that of a surety God's fair land of Ireland did not hold her
equal.
For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She was
about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue. Inclination
prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. The pretty lips
pouted a while but then she glanced up and broke out into a joyous little
laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young May morning. She knew
right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because of him
cooling in his attentions when it was simply a lovers' quarrel. As per usual
somebody's nose was out of joint about the boy that had the bicycle always
riding up and down in front of her window. Only now his father kept him in
the evenings studying hard to get an exhibition in the intermediate that was
on and he was going to Trinity college to study for a doctor when he left
the high school like his brother W. E. Wylie who was racing in the bicycle
races in Trinity college university. Little recked he perhaps for what she
felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes, piercing to the core.
Yet he was young and perchance he might learn to love her in time. They were
protestants in his family and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after
Him the blessed Virgin and then Saint Joseph. But he was undeniably handsome
with an exquisite nose and he was what he looked, every inch a gentleman,
the shape of his head too at the back without his cap on that she would know
anywhere something off the common and the way he turned the bicycle at the
lamp with his hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of those good
cigarettes and besides they were both of a size and that was why Edy
Boardman thought she was so frightfully clever because he didn't go and ride
up and down in front of her bit of a garden.
Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of
Dame Fashion for she felt that there was just a might that he might be out.
A neat blouse of electric blue, selftinted by dolly dyes (because it was
expected in the Lady's Pictorial that electric blue would be worn), with a
smart vee opening down to the division and kerchief pocket (in which she
always kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her favourite perfume because
the handkerchief spoiled the sit) and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the
stride showed off her slim graceful figure to perfection. She wore a
coquettish little love of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed
with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the side a butterfly bow to
tone. All Tuesday week afternoon she was hunting to match that chenille but
at last she found what she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the very it,
slightly shopsoiled but you would never notice, seven fingers two and a
penny. She did it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it
on then, smiling at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to her!
And when she put it on the waterjug to keep the shape she knew that that
would take the shine out of some people she knew. Her shoes were the newest
thing in footwear (Edy Boardman prided herself that she was very petite but
she never had a foot like Gerty MacDowell, a five, and never would ash, oak
or elm) with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle at her higharched
instep. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her
skirt and just the proper amount and no more of her shapely limbs encased in
finespun hose with high spliced heels and wide garter tops. As for undies
they were Gerty's chief care and who that knows the fluttering hopes and
fears of sweet seventeen (though Gerty would never see seventeen again) can
find it in his heart to blame her? She had four dinky sets, with awfully
pretty stitchery, three garments and nighties extra, and each set slotted
with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen and
she aired them herself and blued them when they came home from the wash and
ironed them and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on because she wouldn't
trust those washerwomen as far as she'd see them scorching the things. She
was wearing the blue for luck, hoping against hope, her own colour and the
lucky colour too for a bride to have a bit of blue somewhere on her because
the green she wore that day week brought grief because his father brought
him in to study for the intermediate exhibition and because she thought
perhaps he might be out because when she was dressing that morning she
nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside out and that was for luck and
lovers' meetings if you put those things on inside out so long as it wasn't
of a Friday.
And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is
there all the time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds
to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears,
she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelings. Though not too
much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror. You are lovely,
Gerty, it said. The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad
and wistful. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yes, she had known from the
first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells
ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T. C. D. (because the one who married the elder
brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude
Wylie was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue
fox was not to be. He was too young to understand. He would not believe in
love, a woman's birthright. The night of the party long ago in Stoers' (he
was still in short trousers) when they were alone and he stole an arm round
her waist she went white to the very lips. He called her little one in a
strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss (the first!) but it was only
the end of her nose and then he hastened from the room with a remark about
refreshments. Impetuous fellow! Strength of character had never been Reggy
Wylie's strong point and he who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be a
man among men. But waiting, always waiting to be asked and it was leap year
too and would soon be over. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a
rare and wondrous love at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong
quiet face who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked
with grey, and who would understand, take her in his sheltering arms, strain
her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort her
with a long long kiss. It would be like heaven. For such a one she yearns
this balmy summer eve. With all the heart of her she longs to be his only,
his affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death
us two part, from this to this day forward.
And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the pushcar she was
just thinking would the day ever come when she could call herself his little
wife to be. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the face,
Bertha Supple too, and Edy, the spitfire, because she would be twenty-two in
November. She would care for him with creature comforts too for Gerty was
womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. Her
griddlecakes done to a golden-brown hue and queen Ann's pudding of
delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she had a
lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge in the fine selfraising flour
and always stir in the same direction then cream the milk and sugar and
whisk well the white of eggs though she didn't like the eating part when
there were any people that made her shy and often she wondered why you
couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they would have a
beautifully appointed drawingroom with pictures and engravings and the
photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked,
it was so human, and chintz covers for the chairs and that silver toastrack
in Clery's summer jumble sales like they have in rich houses. He would be
tall with broad shoulders (she had always admired tall men for a husband)
with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache
and they would go on the continent for their honeymoon (three wonderful
weeks!) and then, when they settled down in a nice snug and cosy little
homely house, every morning they would both have brekky, simple but
perfectly served, for their own two selves and before he went out to
business he would give his dear little wifey a good hearty hug and gaze for
a moment deep down into her eyes.
Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he said yes, so then
she buttoned up his little knickerbockers for him and told him to run off
and play with Jacky and to be good now and not to fight. But Tommy said he
wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the ball and
if he took it there'd be wigs on the green but Tommy said it was his ball
and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if you please. The
temper of him! O, he was a man already was little Tommy Caffrey since he was
out of pinnies. Edy told him no, no and to he off now with him and she told
Cissy Caffrey not to give in to him.
-- You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said. It's my ball. But Cissy
Caffrey told baby Boardman to look up, look up high at her finger and she
snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the sand and Tommy after it in
full career, having won the day.
-- Anything for a quiet life, laughed Ciss.
And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make him forget and played
here's the lord mayor, here's his two horses, here's his gingerbread
carriage and here he walks in, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin.
But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that
from everyone always petting him.
-- I'd like to give him something, she said, so I would, where I won't
say.
-- On the beetoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily.
Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the idea of Cissy
saying an unladylike thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her life
to say, flushing a deep rosy red, and Edy Boardman said she was sure the
gentleman opposite heard what she said. But not a pin cared Ciss.
-- Let him! she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of
her nose. Give it to him too on the same place as quick as I'd look at him.
Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. You had to laugh at her sometimes.
For instance when she asked you would you have some more Chinese tea and
jaspberry ram and when she drew the jugs too and the men's faces on her
nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she wanted to go where
you know she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to the Miss White. That
was just like Cissycums. O, and will you ever forget the evening she dressed
up in her father's suit and hat and the burned cork moustache and walked
down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette? There was none to come up to her
for fun. But she was sincerity itself, one of the bravest and truest hearts
heaven ever made, not one of your twofaced things, too sweet to be
wholesome.
And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the
pealing anthem of the organ. It was the men's temperance retreat conducted
by the missioner, the reverend John Hughes S. J., rosary, sermon and
benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. They were there gathered together
without distinction of social class (and a most edifying spectacle it was to
see) in that simple fane beside the waves, after the storms of this weary
world, kneeling before the feet of the immaculate, reciting the litany of
Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to intercede for them, the old familiar
words, holy Mary, holy virgin of virgins. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! Had
her father only avoided the clutches of the demon drink, by taking the
pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she might
now be rolling in her carriage, second to none. Over and over had she told
herself that as she mused by the dying embers in a brown study without the
lamp because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of the window
dreamily by the hour at the rain falling on the rusty bucket, thinking. But
that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cast its
shadow over her childhood days. Nay, she had even witnessed in the home
circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had seen her own father,
a prey to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there
was one thing of all things that Gerty knew it was the man who lifts his
hand to a woman save in the way of kindness deserves to be branded as the
lowest of the low.
And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful,
Virgin most merciful. And Gerty, wrapt in thought, scarce saw or heard her
companions or the twins at their boyish gambols or the gentleman off
Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey called the man that was so like himself
passing along the strand taking a short walk. You never saw him anyway
screwed but still and for all that she would not like him for a father
because he was too old or something or on account of his face (it was a
palpable case of doctor Fell) or his carbuncly nose with the pimples on it
and his sandy moustache a bit white under his nose. Poor father! With all
his faults she loved him still when he sang Tell me, Mary, how to woo thee
or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they had stewed cockles and lettuce
with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he sang The moon hath
raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on
him, from a stroke. Her mother's birthday that was and Charley was home on
his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and
they were to have had a group taken. No-one would have thought the end was
so near. Now he was laid to rest. And her mother said to him to let that be
a warning to him for the rest of his days and he couldn't even go to the
funeral on account of the gout and she had to go into town to bring him the
letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic
standard designs, fit for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always bright and
cheery in the home.
A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the
house, a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in gold.
And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was it rubbed
on the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn't like her
mother taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single thing they ever
had words about, taking snuff. Everyone thought the world of her for her
gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas at the main every night and
it was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that place where she never forgot
every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas
almanac the picture of halcyon days where a young gentleman in the costume
they used to wear then with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of
flowers to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window.
You could see there was a story behind it. The colours were done something
lovely. She was in a soft clinging white in a studied attitude and the
gentleman was in chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat. She often
looked at them dreamily when there for a certain purpose and felt her own
arms that were white and soft just like hers with the sleeves back and
thought about those times because she had found out in Walker's pronouncing
dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the halcyon days what
they meant.
The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion, till
at last Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no getting
behind that deliberately kicked the ball as hard as ever he could down
towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor Tommy was not slow to voice
his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was sitting there by
himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted the ball. Our two
champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and to avoid trouble
Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it to her please. The
gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then threw it up the strand
towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and stopped right under
Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the rock. The twins clamoured again
for it and Cissy told her to kick it away and let them fight for it so Gerty
drew back her foot but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down
to her and she gave a kick but she missed and Edy and Cissy laughed.
-- If you fail try again, Edy Boardman said.
Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her
pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her
skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly
good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down towards
the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw attention
on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the warm flush, a
danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her
cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged glances of the most casual but now
under the brim of her new hat she ventured a look at him and the face that
met her gaze there in the twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed to her
the saddest she had ever seen.
Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was wafted
and with it the fragrant names of her who was conceived without stain of
original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us,
vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. And careworn hearts
were there and toilers for their daily bread and many who had erred and
wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all that bright with hope
for the reverend father Hughes had told them what the great saint Bernard
said in his famous prayer of Mary, the most pious Virgin's intercessory
power that it was not recorded in any age that those who implored her
powerful protection were ever abandoned by her.
The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of
childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Cissy played with baby
Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Peep she
cried behind the hood of the pushcar and Edy asked where was Cissy gone and
then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! and, my word, didn't the little
chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa.
-- Say papa, baby. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.
And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for
eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of health, a
perfect little bunch of love, and he would certainly turn out to be
something great, they said.
-- Hajajajahaja.
Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to
sit up properly, and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried
out, holy saint Denis, that he was possing wet and to double the half
blanket the other way under him. Of course his infant majesty was most
obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it:
-- Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.
And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was all
no use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the
geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in
his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was quickly
appeased.
Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out
of that and not get on her nerves no hour to be out and the little brats of
twins. She gazed out towards the distant sea. It was like the paintings that
man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured chalks and such a pity
too leaving them there to be all blotted out, the evening and the clouds
coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to hear the music like that and
the perfume of those incense they burned in the church like a kind of waft.
And while she gazed her heart went pitapat. Yes, it was her he was looking
at and there was meaning in his look. His eyes burned into her as though
they would search her through and through, read her very soul. Wonderful
eyes they were, superbly expressive, but could you trust them? People were
so queer. She could see at once by his dark eyes and his pale intellectual
face that he was a foreigner, the image of the photo she had of Martin
Harvey, the matinиe idol, only for the moustache which she preferred because
she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that wanted they two to always
dress the same on account of a play but she could not see whether he had an
aquiline nose or a slightly retmussи from where he was sitting. He was in
deep mourning, she could see that, and the story of a haunting sorrow was
written on his face. She would have given worlds to know what it was. He was
looking up so intently, so still and he saw her kick the ball and perhaps he
could see the bright steel buckles of her shoes if she swung them like that
thoughtfully with the toes down. She was glad that something told her to put
on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie might be out but that was
far away. Here was that of which she had so often dreamed. It was he who
mattered and there was joy on her face because she wanted him because she
felt instinctively that he was like no-one else. The very heart of the
girlwoman went out to him, her dreamhusband, because she knew on the instant
it was him. If he had suffered, more sinned against than sinning, or even,
even, if he had been himself a sinner, a wicked man, she cared not. Even if
he was a protestant or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly
loved her. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. She was a
womanly woman not like other flighty girls, unfeminine, he had known, those
cyclists showing off what they hadn't got and she just yearned to know all,
to forgive all if she could make him fall in love with her, make him forget
the memory of the past. Then mayhap he would embrace her gently, like a real
man, crushing her soft body to him, and love her, his ownest girlie, for
herself alone.
Refuge of sinners. Comfortress of the afflicted. Ora pro nobis. Well
has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can
never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the
afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart.
Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows
lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed
Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon at the altar,
carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. He looked almost a saint
and his confession-box was so quiet and clean and dark and his hands were
just like white wax and if ever she became a Dominican nun in their white
habit perhaps he might come to the convent for the novena of Saint Dominic.
He told her that time when she told him about that in confession crimsoning
up to the roots of her hair for fear he could see, not to be troubled
because that was only the voice of nature and we were all subject to nature
s laws, he said, in this life and that that was no sin because that came
from the nature of woman instituted by God, he said, and that Our Blessed
Lady herself said to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to
Thy Word. He was so kind and holy and often and often she thought and
thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for
him as a present or a clock but they had a clock she noticed on the
mantelpiece white and gold with a canary bird that came out of a little
house to tell the time the day she went there about the flowers for the
forty hours' adoration because it was hard to know what sort of a present to
give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place.
The exasperating little brats of twins began to quarrel again and Jacky
threw the ball out towards the sea and they both ran after it. Little
monkeys common as ditchwater. Someone ought to take them and give them a
good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places, the both of them.
And Cissy and Edy shouted after them to come back because they were afraid
the tide might come in on them and be drowned.
-- Jacky! Tommy!
Not they! What a great notion they had! So Cissy said it was the very
last time she'd ever bring them out. She jumped up and called them and she
ran down the slope past him, tossing her hair behind her which had a good
enough colour if there had been more of it but with all the thingamerry she
was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to grow long because it
wasn't natural so she could just go and throw her hat at it. She ran with
long gandery strides it was a wonder she didn't rip up her skirt at the side
that was too tight on her because there was a lot of the tomboy about Cissy
Caffrey and she was a forward piece whenever she thought she had a good
opportunity to show off and just because she was a good runner she ran like
that so that he could see all the end of her petticoat running and her
skinny shanks up as far as possible. It would have served her just right if
she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose with her high
crooked French heels on her to make her look tall and got a fine tumble.
Tableau! That would have been a very charming exposи for a gentleman like
that to witness.
Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs, queen of prophets, of all saints,
they prayed, queen of the most holy rosary and then Father Conroy handed the
thurible to Canon O'Hanlon and he put in the incense and censed the Blessed
Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she was itching to give
them a ringing good clip on the ear but she didn't because she thought he
might be watching but she never made a bigger mistake in all her life
because Gerty could see without looking that he never took his eyes off of
her and then Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible back to Father Conroy and
knelt down looking up at the Blessed Sacrament and the choir began to sing
Tantum ego and she just swung her foot in and out in time as the music rose
and fell to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum. Three and eleven she paid for
those stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the Tuesday, no the
Monday before Easter and there wasn't a brack on them and that was what he
was looking at, transparent, and not at her insignificant ones that had
neither shape nor form (the cheek of her!) because he had eyes in his head
to see the difference for himself.
Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with
her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a streel
tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought only a
fortnight before like a rag on her back and bit of her petticoat hanging
like a caricature. Gerty just took off her hat for a moment to settle her
hair and a prettier, a daintier head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on a
girl's shoulders, a radiant little vision, in sooth, almost maddening in its
sweetness. You would have to travel many a long mile before you found a head
of hair the like of that. She could almost see the swift answering flush of
admiration in his eyes that set her tingling in every nerve. She put on her
hat so that she could see from underneath the brim and swung her buckled
shoe faster for her breath caught as she caught the expression in his eyes.
He was eyeing her as a snake eyes its prey. Her woman's instinct told her
that she had raised the devil in him and at the thought a burning scarlet
swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour of her face became a
glorious rose.
Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she was squinting at Gerty,
half smiling, with her specs, like an old maid, pretending to nurse the
baby. Irritable little gnat she was and always would be and that was why
no-one could get on with her, poking her nose into what was no concern of
hers. And she said to Gerty:
-- A penny for your thoughts.
-- What? replied Gerty with a smile reinforced by the whitest of teeth.
I was only wondering was it late.
Because she wished to goodness they'd take the snottynosed twins and
their baby home to the mischief out of that so that was why she just gave a
gentle hint about its being late. And when Cissy came up Edy asked her the
time and Miss Cissy, as glib as you like, said it was half past kissing
time, time to kiss again. But Edy wanted to know because they were told to
be in early.
-- Wait, said Cissy, I'll ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time
by his conundrum.
So over she went and when he saw her coming she could see him take his
hand out of his pocket, getting nervous, and beginning to play with his
watchchain, looking at the church. Passionate nature though he was Gerty
could see that he had enormous control over himself. One moment he had been
there, fascinated by a loveliness that made him gaze, and the next moment it
was the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every line of
his distinguishedlooking figure.
Cissy said to excuse her would he mind telling her what was the right
time and Gerty could see him taking out his watch, listening to it and
looking up and clearing his throat and he said he was very sorry his watch
was stopped but he thought it must be after eight because the sun was set.
His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in measured accents
there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones. Cissy said thanks and
came back with her tongue out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of
order.
Then they sang the second verse of the Tantum ergo and Canon O'Hanlon
got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and he told
Father Conroy that one of the candles was just going to set fire to the
flowers and Father Conroy got up and settled it all right and she could see
the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the works and she swung her
leg more in and out in time. It was getting darker but he could see and he
was looking all the time that he was winding the watch or whatever he was
doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands back into his pockets.
She felt a Kind of a sensation rushing all over her and she knew by the feel
of her scalp and that irritation against her stays that that thing must be
coming on because the last time too was when she clipped her hair on account
of the moon. His dark eyes fixed themselves on her again drinking in her
every contour, literally worshipping at her shrine. If ever there was
undisguised admiration in a man's passionate gaze it was there plain to be
seen on that man's face. It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and you know it.
Edy began to get ready to go and it was high time for her and Gerty
noticed that that little hint she gave had the desired effect because it was
a long way along the strand to where there was the place to push up the
pushcar and Cissy took off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make
herself attractive of course and Canon O'Hanlon stood up with his cope
poking up at his neck and Father Conroy handed him the card to read off and
he read out Panem de clo prstitisti eis and Edy and Cissy were
talking about the time all the time and asking her but Gerty could pay them
back in their own coin and she just answered with scathing politeness when
Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her best boy throwing her over.
Gerty winced sharply. A brief cold blaze shone from her eyes that spoke
volumes of scorn immeasurable. It hurt. O yes, it cut deep because Edy had
her own quiet way of saying things like that she knew would wound like the
confounded little cat she was. Gerty's lips parted swiftly to frame the word
but she fought back the sob that rose to her throat, so slim, so flawless,
so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. She
had loved him better than he knew. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all
his sex he would never understand what he had meant to her and for an
instant there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. Their eyes
were probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she sparkled back in
sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them to see.
-- O, responded Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing, and the proud head
flashed up, I can throw my cap at who I like because it's leap year.
Her words rang out crystalclear, more musical than the cooing of the
ringdove, but they cut the silence icily. There was that in her young voice
that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with. As for Mr Reggy
with his swank and his bit of money she could just chuck him aside as if he
was so much filth and never again would she cast as much as a second thought
on him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen pieces. And it ever after he
dared to presume she could give him one look of measured scorn that would
make him shrivel up on the spot. Miss puny little Edy's countenance fell to
no slight extent and Gerty could see by her looking as black as thunder that
she was simply in a towering rage though she hid it, the little kinnatt,
because that shaft had struck home for her petty jealousy and they both knew
that she was something aloof, apart in another sphere, that she was not of
them and there was somebody else too that knew it and saw it so they could
put that in their pipe and smoke it.
Edy straightened up baby Boardman to get ready to go and Cissy tucked
in the ball and the spades and buckets and it was high time too because the
sandman was on his way for Master Boardman junior and Cissy told him too
that Billy Winks was coming and that baby was to go deedaw and baby looked
just too ducky, laughing up out of his gleeful eyes, and Cissy poked him
like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby, without as much as by
your leave, sent up his compliments on to his brandnew dribbling bib.
O my! Puddeny pie! protested Ciss. He has his bib destroyed.
The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set
that little matter to rights.
Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a nervous cough and Edy
asked what and she was just going to tell her to catch it while it was
flying but she was ever ladylike in her deportment so she simply passed it
off with consummate tact by saying that that was the benediction because
just then the bell rang out from the steeple over the quiet seashore because
Canon O'Hanlon was up on the altar with the veil that Father Conroy put
round him round his shoulders giving the benediction with the blessed
Sacrament in his hands.
How moving the scene there in the gathering twilight, the last glimpse
of Erin, the touching chime of those evening bells and at the same time a
bat flew forth from the ivied belfry through the dusk, hither, thither, with
a tiny lost cry. And she could see far away the lights of the lighthouses so
picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of paints because it was
easier than to make a man and soon the lamplighter would be going his rounds
past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue
where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her window where Reggy
Wylie used to turn his freewheel like she read in that book The Lamplighter
by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. For Gerty had her
dreams that no-one knew of. She loved to read poetry and when she got a
keepsake from Bertha Supple of that lovely confession album with the
coralpink cover to write her thoughts in she laid it in the drawer of her
toilettable which, though it did not err on the side of luxury, was
scrupulously neat and clean. It was there she kept her girlish treasures
trove, the tortoiseshell combs, her child of Mary badge, the whiterose
scent, the eyebrowleine, her alabaster pouncetbox and the ribbons to change
when her things came home from the wash and there were some beautiful
thoughts written in it in violet ink that she bought in Hely's of Dame
Street for she felt that she too could write poetry if she could only
express herself like that poem that appealed to her so deeply that she had
copied out of the newspaper she found one evening round the potherbs. Art
thou real, my ideal? it was called by Louis J. Walsh, Magherafelt, and after
there was something about twilight, wilt thou ever? and ofttimes the beauty
of poetry, so sad in its transient loveliness, had misted her eyes with
silent tears that the years were slipping by for her, one by one, and but
for that one shortcoming she knew she need fear no competition and that was
an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she always tried to conceal it. But
it must end she felt. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there would be
no holding back for her. Love laughs at locksmiths. She would make the great
sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dearer than the
whole world would she be to him and gild his days with happiness. There was
the allimportant question and she was dying to know was he a married man or
a widower who had lost his wife or some tragedy like the nobleman with the
foreign name from the land of song had to have her put into a madhouse,
cruel only to be kind. But even if - what then? Would it make a very great
difference? From everything in the least indelicate her finebred nature
instinctively recoiled. She loathed that sort of person, the fallen women
off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the soldiers and
coarse men, with no respect for a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being
taken up to the police station. No, no: not that. They would be just good
friends like a big brother and sister without all that other in spite of the
conventions of Society with a big ess. Perhaps it was an old flame he was in
mourning for from the days beyond recall. She thought she understood. She
would try to understand him because men were so different. The old love was
waiting, waiting with little white hands stretched out, with blue appealing
eyes. Heart of mine! She would follow her dream of love, the dictates of her
heart that told her he was her all in all, the only man in all the world for
her for love was the master guide. Nothing else mattered. Come what might
she would be wild, untrammelled, free.
Canon O'Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into the tabernacle and
the choir sang Laudate Dominum omnes gentes and then he locked the
tabernacle door because the benediction was over and Father Conroy handed
him his hat to put on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky
Caffrey called out:
-- O, look, Cissy!
And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over
the trees beside the church, blue and then green and purple.
-- It's fireworks, Cissy Caffrey said.
And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the church,
helterskelter, Edy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and Cissy
holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn't fall running.
-- Come on, Gerty, Cissy called. It's the bazaar fireworks.
But Gerty was adamant. She had no intention of being at their beck and
call. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she could see
from where she was. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her pulses
tingling. She looked at him a moment, meeting his glance, and a light broke
in upon her. Whitehot passion was in that face, passion silent as the grave,
and it had made her his. At last they were left alone without the others to
pry and pass remarks and she knew he could be trusted to the death,
steadfast, a sterling man, a man of inflexible honour to his fingertips. His
hands and face were working and a tremor went over her. She leaned back far
to look up where the fireworks were and she caught her knee in her hands so
as not to fall back looking up and there was no one to see only him and her
when she revealed all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that, supply
soft and delicately rounded, and she seemed to hear the panting of his
heart, his hoarse breathing, because she knew about the passion of men like
that, hot-blooded, because Bertha Supple told her once in dead secret and
made her swear she'd never about the gentleman lodger that was staying with
them out of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures cut out of
papers of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she said he used to do
something not very nice that you could imagine sometimes in the bed. But
this was altogether different from a thing like that because there was all
the difference because she could almost feel him draw her face to his and
the first quick hot touch of his handsome lips. Besides there was absolution