"Go on," said Mary, who in her mother's eyes crossed that very hour
from adolescence into womanhood. There was no denying the soul inside
her.
"Are you very sure, lass? I do not say it in mockery, but truth be
told it's not a tale to make the young heart glad. I'll understand if
you've had enough."
"No, really, I'm all right now. Mother," and she took her hand. "I
want to know."
The woman gave a sigh, and shook her head. She found herself cornered,
and not by the hounds and hunters of treachery, but by honesty and
simple love. There was only one way out: forward, through memories and
emotions she had long banished. There was nothing else for it. She
continued.
"My father grew old and finally died, with my mother not far behind.
My brother became man of the house then, and one of the first things
he did was to send for me, though it was not straight away that I went
to him.
"I had been earning my modest keep as a teacher to the children of the
fishing village, and living alone in the spare, two-room schoolhouse
that they built for me.
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