In the meantime hunger pressed deeply upon him and them. The day had
no appearance of clearing up; the heavy rain and sleet beat into their
thin, worn garments, and the clamor of his children for food began to
grow more and more importunate. They came to the shelter of a hedge
which inclosed on one side a remote and broken road, along which,
in order to avoid the risk of being recognized, they had preferred
travelling. Owen stood here for a few minutes to consult with his wife,
as to where and when they should "make a beginning;" but on looking
round, he found her in tears.
"Kathleen, asthore," said he, "I can't bid you not to cry; bear up,
acushla machree; bear up: sure, as I said when we came out this mornin',
there's a good God above us, that can still turn over the good lafe for
us, if we put our hopes in him."
"Owen," said his sinking wife, "it's not altogether bekase we're brought
to this that I'm cryin'; no, indeed."
"Thin what ails you, Kathleen darlin'?"
The wife hesitated, and evaded the question for some time; but at
length, upon his pressing her for an answer, with a fresh gush of
sorrow, she replied,
"Owen, since you must know--och, may God pity us!--since you must know,
it's wid hunger--wid hunger! I kept, unknownst, a little bit of bread
to give the childhre this mornin', and that was part of it I gave you
yesterday early--I'm near two days fastin'.
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