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Valley of the Squinting Windows

[Pg 245] <h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> More than ever on this morning was Rebecca aware that the keen eye of Mrs. Wyse was upon her as she moved about the schoolroom. One of the bigger girls was despatched to the other school for Monica McKeon and Master Donnellan's assistant came in to Mrs. Wyse. She nodded the customary greeting to Rebecca as she passed in. This interview was unusual at such an early hour of the day. But it was never the custom of either of them to tell her of what they were talking. As she busied herself teaching the very smallest of the children she felt that the eyes of both women were upon her. After what appeared to be a very long time Monica passed out. On this second occasion she looked loftily across her glasses and gave no nod of acknowledgment to Rebecca. Rebecca blushed at this open affront. She felt that Mrs. Wyse must have something against her, something she had told Monica just now.... And now the principal was exceedingly busy with her pen as if writing a hurried note.... Rebecca heard the high, coarse voice raised in command: "Euphemia McGoldrick, I want you!" Then came the timid "Yes, ma'am!" of Euphemia. "Here are two letters, child. Take this one to Father O'Keeffe, your parish priest, and this to your mother, like a good child." [Pg 246] "Yes'm!" Some fear of unknown things began to stir in the breast of Rebecca. This connection of Mrs. McGoldrick with Mrs. Wyse's occupation of the morning seemed to announce some dragging of her into the matter. But as yet, although her mind moved tremulously in its excitement, she had, curiously enough, no suspicion of what was about to happen. It could not be that Mrs. Wyse had suspected. Oh, not at all. There was still no danger. But it might be a near thing.... Already she had begun to wonder would Ulick come to-night. But of course he would come. He was not such a bad fellow. And he might be taken up with his own condition just now. He had missed his examination in Dublin: missed it, maybe, through his foolishness in coming to see her.... But already she had thoroughly blamed herself for this.... To ease the pain of her mind she went busily about her work. She knew that the eye of Mrs. Wyse was upon her and that the very best way of defeating it was by putting on this air of industry. The day, in its half-hour divisions, was passing rapidly towards noon. A little girl came quickly in to say that Father O'Keeffe was coming up the road. Rebecca glanced out of the window and, sure enough, there he was upon his big, fat, white horse coming into the yard. She heard his loud cries calling into the Boys' School "for a chap to come out and hold his horse." When the boy came to do his bidding he held forth at great length upon the best way of leading "King Billy" around the yard. [Pg 247] Then the reverend manager of Tullahanogue Schools moved into the female portion of the establishment. At the door he twisted his round face into an aspect of severity which was still humorous in its alien incongruity. Here also he removed his hat from his head, which was white and bald like the apex of an egg above the red curve of his countenance. It was his custom to visit the schools of which he was manager, thus precociously to make up in some way for what he lacked in educational knowledge and enthusiasm. As his short, squat figure moved up the passage by the desks, the massive head bowed low upon the broad chest and the fat fingers of both hands coiled behind his back, he was not at all unlike an actor made up as Napoleon Bonaparte. His voice was disciplined in the accents of militarism and dictatorship. Rebecca noticed on the instant that to-day he was as one intensified. He began to slap his legs continuously with his silver-mounted riding whip. He did not speak to her as he passed in. But, although it caused her heart to flutter for a moment, this appeared to her as no unusual occurrence. He never took notice of her unless when she called at the vestry after Mass upon occasion to deliver up a slice of her salary in Dues and Offerings. Then the Napoleonic powerfulness disappeared and he fell to talking, with laughter in his words, about the richness of Royal Meath in comparison with the wild barrenness of Donegal. He moved up to where Mrs. Wyse was at work. Rebecca could distinctly hear the loud "Well, what's your best news?" with which he always prefaced his conversations. In low whispers they began to [Pg 248]communicate.... It was not till now that she began to have immense doubts as to the purpose of his visit, and already she was trembling in presence of the little children. "An example of her, Father!" "Oh yes, an example of her. Nothing less, Mrs. Wyse!" The words came down to Rebecca clearly through the deep silence that had fallen upon the school since the entrance of Father O'Keeffe. The bigger girls were listening, listening in a great hush of patience for all that had to be reported when they went home. Each one was preparing for her respective examination— "Was there any one in the school to-day?" "Yes, mother!" "Who, the inspector?" "No, the Priest!" "Father O'Keeffe?" "Well, anything else?" "He was talking to Mrs. Wyse." "And what was he saying?" "I couldn't hear, mother, so I couldn't." "And why didn't you listen? What am I slaving myself to send you to school for?" And so they were listening with such eagerness now. They were looking down at Rebecca as if she were the object of the whole discussion. Her thoughts were beginning to well into a swirling unconsciousness.... Great sounds, like those of roaring cataracts and the drumming of mighty armies were rolling up to her ears. Father O'Keeffe and Mrs. Wyse now came down the schoolroom together. As they passed Rebecca, Father O'Keeffe beckoned to her with his riding-whip in the way[Pg 249] one might call to a very inferior hireling. Shaken by unique and powerful impulses, she went out into the hall-way to meet her superiors.... Instantaneously she knew what had happened—they knew. "Well, isn't this a nice thing?" began Father O'Keeffe. "Ye might say it's a nice thing, Father!" echoed Mrs. Wyse. "An enormous thing!" "A terrible thing! Father!" "You're a nice lady!" he said, addressing Rebecca angrily. "To come into a parish where there is none save decent people to leave a black disgrace upon it and you going away!" "Was ever the like known, Father? And just imagine her keeping it so secret. Why we thought there was nothing in this affair with Ulick Shannon. There was such an amount of cuteness in the way they used to meet at times and in places we never knew of. In the woods, I suppose!" Father O'Keeffe was addressing her directly again. "Why, when I think of the disgrace to this school and all that, it drives me near mad." "And, mind you, the shocking insult it is to me and to the little children." "The shocking insult to you and to the little children. True for you, Mrs. Wyse." "And when I think of how you have contrived to besmirch the fair name of one of the fine, respectable families of the parish, gentlemen, as you might say, without one blot upon their escutcheon." "People as high up as the Houlihans of Clonabroney." [Pg 250] "People as high up as the Houlihans of Clonabroney, Mrs. Wyse." His eye was upon Rebecca with a sudden gleam. "When I think of that, I consider it an enormous offense...." She did not flinch before them. She was thinking only of the way in which they had come to hear it.... She was concerned now that Ulick should not suffer, that his grand family name should not be dragged down with hers.... If he had not come to her she would have slipped away without a word.... And now to think that it had become public. The previous burning of her mind had been nothing to this.... But Father O'Keeffe was still speaking: "Listen to me, girl! You are to go from hence, but not, as you may imagine, to the place from whence you came. For this very evening I intend to warn your pastor of your lapse from virtue while in our midst, so that you may not return to your father's house and have no more hope of teaching in any National school within the four seas of Ireland." "That is only right and proper, Father!" put in Mrs. Wyse. Rebecca was not listening or else she might have shuddered within the shadow of the torture his words held for her. In these moments she had soared far beyond them.... Through the high mood in which she was accepting her tragedy she was becoming exalted.... What glorious moments there would be, what divine compensation in whispering of the torture surrounding its beginning to the little child when it came? "So now, Rebecca Kerr, I command you to go forth[Pg 251] from this school and from the little children that you corrupt towards your own abomination by further presence among them." As he moved angrily out of the school she moved quietly, and without speaking a word, to take her coat and hat down from the rack. "Oh, wait!" commanded Mrs. Wyse, "you must not leave until three, until you have made an example of yourself here in a way that all the children may bring home the story. God knows it will be the hard thing for them to be telling their mothers when they go home. The poor little things!" Rebecca stood there desolately alone in the hall-way through the remainder of the afternoon. In one aspect she appeared as a bold child being thus corrected by a harsh superior. On many more occasions than appeared absolutely necessary Monica McKeon passed and repassed her there as she stood so lonely. The assistant of the Boys' School was a model of disdain as, with her lip curled, she looked away out over her glasses. And ever and anon Mrs. Wyse passed in and out, muttering mournfully to herself: "The cheek of that now, before the children and all!" And the elder girls moved about her in a procession of sneering. They knew, and they were examining her for the purpose of giving full accounts when they went home. But, occasionally, some of the little ones would come and gaze up into her eyes with wild looks. Although they did not know why, they seemed to possess for her an immense, mute pity. [Pg 252] "Poor Miss Kerr!" they would say, stroking her dress, but their big sisters would come and whisk them away. "Don't touch her. She's dirty——" Then Monica would pass again. At last she heard the merciful stroke of three. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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