SALLY.

Observer, Volume XXXVII, Issue 34, 28 April 1917, Page 15

SALLY.

I MIND well ould Robert Falcon marryin' wee Sally Dougherty, when he was an ould done man of seventy an' more, an' her a young thing of not more than seventeen or eighteen. A sweet slip of a girl she was, tall an' limber, with a glint of sunshine in her hair even of a dark day, an' big, wide eyes as clear as the blue heavens. We all had her marked down for Willie Dennison, an' a great match it would have made, for he was as fine a make of young fellow as she was of a girl, an' as for good looks there wasn't a pin to choose between them ; an' if he hadn't land then, he would have sometime.

By the look of matters I'm inclined to think W'illie had her marked down for himself, for if ever Sally turned a corner ye were very apt'to meet Willie « hit round the bend; but Sally was a simple wee thing, an' a boy was still more of a comrade to her than a sweetheart; an' I think -Willie seen that an' was content to wait. But he waited too long, for before he was aware Falcon had married her. AVhat whim took ould Robert the divil himself knows. It wasn't to say he was a big., full-blooded, hearty man, like many a one of his a o- e — -I've seen men of his years worth half-a-dozen of young skrites of fellows—but Robert was always a wee, wizened, dhry-lookin' man, as shrivelled up as a crab-apple at Christmas, an' as peevish as a hen clockin'. As for poor Sally she was young an' innocent, an' with the father near broke an' push in' her on till it, with, good haekin's from the mother, an' herself maybe thinkin' how grand she'd be, mistress of fifty acres an' more of land, she was married before she knowed where she was. An' a good wife she made mm for eight long years, an' looked after him an' danced attendance' on him hand an' foot, with never an ill word on her tongue for him even at his very crabbedest, an' mind ye there.was times when he was hard to thole. ■ • • It told on her all the same. Bit by bit the light went out of her face, an' the spring out of her step. She got quiet an' patient an' soberlookin' beyond her age; an' though the smile of her would still have warmed a could heart it came seldomer an' went quicker than 1 minded it when she was a girl. But she got hor reward at the last; for the ould fellow dropped off sudden an' left her all he had. Of course everybody said she'd be married again in. six months' time ; for the husband had left her free to do as she liked. But one year went past after another an' still no word of her facin' again ; though it wasn't for want of plenty askin' her; for the men was round her like wasps round a plum. For all the good they done they might as well left it alone; an' one an' another dropped off till there was nobody left but AVillie Dennison . As far as Sally was concerned things was still the same way with Willie. If he had put her out of his head while she was a married woman, an' I suppose he tried to, he couldn't put her out of his heart, an' she left no room for anybody else. I don't believe in. all the time she was Robert Falcon's wife AVillie changed six words. Avith a girl, harrin' in the way of common civility.

Maybe he. was wrong, too. If he d o-one about a bit among the weemin', even if he hadn't turned to somebody else in the end, it would still have kept his hand in for courtin pally, an' he might have made bet-

Lynn Doymo, the luish «• lUrrie.' in " Daily Chboxkm.e."

ter lordlier with her when she was free. But all Willies notion of courtin,' was. to fix his heart on the woman he wanted, an' hould on.

'Twas no wonder he held on, either; for lie got good encouragement—up to a point. He was still a big, r-ionsy, igood-Jorykhi' fellow, an' by this time had a brave bit of land of his own ; an' anybody could have seen that Sally would rather ha' had his wee finger than all the other men in the county. "Did ye ever ask her straight out, Willie?" sez I. to him one day. "Did I ever do anything else?" sez he, a bit vexed. "I tould her that from she. was a girl of fifteen I'd never looked at the side of the road another woman was on." "An' what did she say to that, Willie?" sez I. " 'Is that true, Willie?' sez she." " 'It's as true as the Heavens above us,' sez I. "She took a long, strange look at me, an' said nothin' for a while. 'It .might have, been better,' sez she at the last, 'if you'd told me that then.' An' I could get no more out of her. But I aye think she has been kindlier to me ever since." « • • I suppose Willie hung on like that for a matther of two or three years, still best man in, an' still stickin' at that: but at last one even in' he came over to me an' the wife to tell us he was losin' heart. "Here, I'll tell ye what you'll do," sez the wife. "Away over an' get. her into the parlour with, you, an' then lock the door an' tell her you'll not iet her out till she answers you 'aye' or 'no.' Yv needn't bother then how she answers you ; for if ye only honld out till to-morrow mornin' she'll have to marry you whether she will or not. An' ye needn't mind losin' a night's rest. It's not the first night's rest ye've lost over her, I'll he. bound." I never thought he had the, pluckto take the advice; but he had. The next evonin' he came over an' tould us. all about it. "When I turned the key in the door an' faced round on her," sez lie, "I thought I was; in for a terrible tempest. But will ye believe me, Mrs Murphy, I never seen her look in' at me as kindly before. I don't believe she was angry at all." The wife smiled a bit, but said nothin'. " 'Willie,' sez she to me, very serious an' quiet, 'I know I haven't treated you well. I've been keepin' you off an' on for a long time now, an' I'm not, maybe, sorry to have to- make up my mind. But before I give you your answer I want to say a word or two: Eleven years ago my father an' mother married me to the man whose name I bear. Ho was old, he was selfish, lie was ill-tempered. He wasn't bed-ridden; but all the. time I was his wife he never knew what it was to draw his breath in health. For eight long years I made that man a good wife. I respected his. wishes, I bore with his humours, I nursed him an' cared for him as no woman would do for money. At first I didn't know that things were any different with me to any other married, woman. I thought all men were ill-tempered an' erabl>ed an' weakly. But as time went on 1 found out how I had been deceived. I found out that I had sold myself away from all the joy an' the pleasure an' the pride that should have been mine by right. I didn't cease to do my duty. But my heart was sore an' bitter in my breast that I had parted with my birthright; an' I vowed that if ever I was free 1 would never bind myself again till it was as clear to me as the sun in the heavens that in sellin' myself the second time I was gettm' my p:n>e in rjappiness. 'Willjie," sez

she, houldin' out her hands to me, 'if I give myself to you ' "I'll say no more," sez Willie, breakin' off ail lookin' out of the window for a minit. ""Wish me joy, Mrs Murphy," sez he, turn in' round with the water in his eyes. "An' if I'm not a. good man to my wife that is to be, God forgive me."