When Owen rose, he was driven by hunger, direct and immediate, to sell
his best cow; and having purchased some oatmeal at an enormous price,
from a well-known devotee in the parish, who hoarded up this commodity
for a "dear summer," he laid his plans for the future, with as much
judgment as any man could display. One morning after breakfast he
addressed his wife as follows:
"Kathleen, mavourneen, I want to consult wid you about what we ought to
do; things are low wid us, asthore; and except our heavenly Father puts
it into the heart of them I'm goin' to mention, I don't know what well
do, nor what'll become of these poor crathurs that's naked and hungry
about us. God pity them, they don't know--and maybe that same's some
comfort--the hardships that's before them. Poor crathurs! see how quiet
and sorrowful they sit about their little play, passin' the time for
themselves as well as they can! Alley, acushla machree, come over to
me. Your hair is bright and fair, Alley, and curls so purtily that the
finest lady in the land might envy it; but, acushla, your color's gone,
your little hands are wasted away, too; that sickness was hard and sore
upon you, a _colleen machree_ (* girl of my heart) and he that 'ud spend
his heart's blood for you, darlin', can do nothin' to help you!"
He looked at the child as he spoke, and a slight motion in the muscles
of his face was barely preceptible, but it passed away; and, after
kissing her, he proceeded:
"Ay, ye crathurs--you and I, Kathleen, could earn our bread for
ourselves yet, but these can't do it.
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