Liam O'Flaherty: Land

“Good,” he said. “I knew we’d finally see eye to eye. I want you to do nothing at all until I give the signal. Call off your men, stop the investigation and give the impression that the police have dropped the whole thing. That will keep him in a state of doubt and suspicion. It may be a month from now, or two months, or three, before he is ready to strike again. These terrorists nerve themselves to a certain action. Afterwards they feel exhausted. It takes time before they gather strength for another blow. It’s a sort of delirium.”

“Now I understand perfectly,” Fenton said in a peculiarly harsh tone. “You want him to commit a murder.”

“Call it what you like,” Butcher said. “When the time is ripe, I want certain documents that are in your office at Clash and …”

Fenton jumped to his feet. His lips felt terribly dry.

“You want me to become your accomplice in arranging this murder?” he cried.

“Sit down,” Butcher said brutally.

“This is frightful,” Fenton said, suddenly lowering his voice to an almost inaudible whisper.

“Sit down,” Butcher repeated.

Fenton made a supreme effort to bolt from the room. He failed utterly. He sat down slowly, took out his handkerchief, folded a corner of it around the forefinger of his left hand and wiped the exterior of his lips.

Lettice sat by the window of her aunt’s bedroom, listening to the patter of raindrops on the terrace roof and watching a rainbow that stood over the sea beyond the lighthouse tower. In spite of the rain, the sun shone brightly and larks were singing in the sky. April had come, with its strange harmony of tears and laughter, like a woman distraught with love.

“I do wish you could see this beautiful rainbow, Aunt Elizabeth,” she said as she leaned far out over the sill of the open window to get a better view.

Her thin face was flushed with happiness. Her eyes sparkled.

“I can hear the larks singing,” Elizabeth said softly. “Oh! Lovely, gentle April! Everything is beautiful in April. It’s the month that pleases me most.”

“It would make you completely well to see this rainbow,” Lettice said. “Such beauty must surely have healing powers.”

“I’m sorry to be a nuisance,” Elizabeth said, “lying here in bed when there is so much work to be done.”

She had kept to her bed for a whole month, ever since the day of the shooting. She was not really ill. At the moment, however, the late afternoon made her look very pale and emaciated in her night bonnet.

“But you’re not in the least a nuisance,” Lettice said indignantly as she turned her head. “How could you possibly say such a thing?”

“To-morrow, please God,” said Elizabeth, “I’m going to be on my feet again.”

“I love looking after the house,” Lettice said. “It makes me feel important. I’d be ever so happy were it not for your being ill.”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Elizabeth. “I’ve always been delicate, just like my brother Julian, God rest his soul. I’m unable to bear any unpleasant shock. Yet I’m very tenacious. I’ve recovered from this bout, my dear. I feel it.”

“How wonderful!” Lettice said. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.”

“I’m very proud of you, Lettice,” Elizabeth said. “You are a born housekeeper.”

“Oh! Thank you,” Lettice said shyly. “I’ve had a great deal of experience, you know. In Paris, I practically looked after our house for the past three years. Father insisted on my learning what he calls ‘a woman’s profession’ very thoroughly.”

Elizabeth sniffed. She was still very annoyed with her brother, so she bridled up at reference to him.

“Tell me about the rainbow, my dear,” she said. “Is it distinct? At this time of year they can be radiantly beautiful.”

“Oh! It’s very distinct,” Lettice said eagerly as she turned to look out the window once more. “It seems so near that I keep wanting to reach out my hand and touch it.”

“I love rainbows,” said Elizabeth. “They are so delicate and graceful.”

“I can see both ends,” Lettice said, “so close together that it’s like a big hoop perched on the sea. Oh! How sad!”

“What happened, my dear?” said Elizabeth.

“It’s gone,” Lettice said with a deep sigh. “It went suddenly, as if by magic. The people say that it’s a sign given to us by God, promising that the world will never again be flooded. Do you believe that, Aunt Elizabeth?”

“No,” said Elizabeth. “That is merely a popular superstition.”

“I believe it,” said Lettice. “I want to believe everything that is beautiful and harmless. The people are very fortunate in that way. They give a divine meaning to everything. That is because they have faith.”

“Faith is the greatest gift that God has given us,” Elizabeth said.

“The people are very wise,” Lettice said, “in spite of being so poorly educated. Their wisdom is beautiful and without malice.”

“You are getting fond of them,” said Elizabeth.

Lettice now turned around completely towards her aunt. She wrinkled her forehead in thought and smoothed out the skirts of her grey dress.

“It’s not so much that I’ve become fond of them,” she said, “as that they have become fond of me. I wanted to be friends with them ever since I came from France. Yet I felt that they were hostile towards father and myself, even though they were invariably polite. Now it’s different. They gather round me when I go to the village, as if I had suddenly become very dear to them. They have become equally fond of father. As a result, I am certain that he has been happier during the past few weeks than I have ever known him. I really believe that he has finally begun to write his book.”

She laughed gaily and said:

“Ever since I can remember, he has been on the point of beginning to write that book. It’s very mysterious. He never talks about it and he keeps his notes under lock and key.”

“I knew this would happen,” Elizabeth said gloomily. “It’s because we failed to do our duty. The people now feel that we are their accomplices. They have finally managed to drag us down to their level.”

Lettice stared at her aunt in surprise. It was the first time that either of them had referred, even indirectly, to O’Dwyer’s presence in the kitchen on the day of the shooting. Indeed, Elizabeth had taken to her bed, on the evening of that day, owing to the peremptory manner in which Raoul had ordered them both never to mention the incident. What had irritated Elizabeth particularly was the fact that he issued this command in the servant’s presence, including the servant and putting her on the same level as his daughter and sister. This was precisely what Elizabeth meant, when she spoke of “being dragged down to their level.”

“Dear Aunt,” Lettice said, “surely you don’t mean to say that father should take sides with the landlords against the people.”

“I most certainly do,” said Elizabeth sharply.

“May I ask the reason?” said Lettice.

“Your father is a gentleman,” Elizabeth said, “even though he is no longer in enjoyment of his estates. His duty as a gentleman commands him to help maintain law and order.”

“I can’t understand you,” said Lettice in a low voice.

“Why not, child?” said Elizabeth.

“But the landlords are Protestants, nearly all of them,” Lettice said, “and you are a Catholic. So are the people Catholics. Surely, it would be your duty to side with people of your own religious persuasion against …”

“Religion has nothing to do with it,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I am a Catholic because my father made me one. My becoming a Catholic had nothing to do with rebellion against authority. Quite the contrary. My father, when God gave him grace to find his way back to the true faith, was merely putting an end to a period of rebellion. All the troubles of modern times come from rebellion against the authority of Christ’s vicar on earth, the Pope of Rome.”