always known. She spoke in that sort of keening cadence so frequent with beggars and others in Ireland who lament their state. But for all that, tall and gaunt as she looked under her cloak, she did not look and she was not meant to look like a beggar; and as she took her seat by the fire, the boy watched her curiously from across the stage. The old people question her and she speaks of her travel on the road.
Bridget. It is a wonder you are not worn out with so much wandering.
Old Woman. Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart. When the people see me quiet they think old age has come on me, and that all the stir has gone out of me.
Bridget. What was it put you astray?
Old Woman. Too many strangers in the house.
Bridget. Indeed, you look as if you had had your share of trouble.
Old Woman. I have had trouble indeed.
Bridget. What was it put the trouble on you?
Old Woman. My land that was taken from me.
Bridget. Was it much land they took from you?
Old Woman. My four beautiful green fields.
Peter (aside to Bridget). Do you think, could she be the Widow Casey that was put out of her holding at Kilglas a while ago?
Bridget. She is not. I saw the Widow Casey one time at the market in Ballina, a stout, fresh woman.
Peter (to Old Woman). Did you hear a noise of cheering and you coming up the hill?
Old Woman. I thought I heard the noise I used to hear when my friends came to visit me. (She begins singing half to herself.)
"I will go cry with the woman,
For yellow-haired Donough is dead,
With a hempen rope for a neck-cloth,
And a white cloth on his head."
The sound of her strange chant draws the boy over to her as if by a fascination; and she tells him of the men that had died for love of her.
"There was a red man of the O'Donnells from the North, and a man of the O'Sullivans from the South, and there was one Brian that lost his life at Clontarf by the sea, and there were a great many in the West, some that died hundreds of years ago, and there are some that will die to-morrow."
The boy draws nearer to her, and plies her with questions, and the old people talk pityingly of the poor crea-
