relief to
him--for his own thoughts were frightening him--to see the peasants
moving away and the head of the gardener disappear behind the wall. He
walked up the path to the Rectory, the lawn dotted over with sombre yew
trees all clipped into the shape of torpedoes, all trained directly upon
the forts of Heaven! The house was large and comfortable, the walls a
faded yellow. Like the church, it was thrown up against the background
of the hills. It had all the sombre exclusiveness that made appeal to
the Rector. The sight of it comforted him at the moment, and his mental
agitation died down. He became normal enough to resume his accustomed
outlook, and before he had reached the end of the path his mind had
become obsessed again by the thought of the _Ne Temere_ decree.
Something should, he felt convinced, be done, and done at once.

He ground his umbrella on the step in front of the Rectory door and
pondered. At last he came to a conclusion, inspiration lighting up his
faded eyes. He tossed his head upwards.

"I must write a letter to the papers," he said. "Ireland is lost."

THE HOME-COMING

Persons:
Mrs. Ford
Donagh Ford
Hugh Deely
Agnes Deely

Scene: A farmhouse in Connacht.

Hugh: They'll make short work of the high field. It's half ploughed
already.

Donagh: It was good of the people to gather as they did, giving us their
labour.

Hugh: The people had always a wish for your family, Donagh. Look at the
great name your father left behind him in Carrabane. It would be a fine
sight for him if he had lived to stand at this door now, looking at the
horses bringing the plough over the ground.

Donagh: And if he could move about this house, even in his great age. He
never got accustomed to the smallness of the hut down at Cussmona.

Hugh: When I was a bit of a gosoon I remember the people talking about
the eviction of Donagh Ford. It was terrible work used to be in
Carrabane those times. Your father was the first man to fight, and that
was why the people thought so well of him.

Donagh: He would never speak of it himself, for at home he was a silent,
proud man. But my mother used to be telling me of it many a time.

Hugh: Your mother and yourself have the place back now. And you have
Agnes to think of.

Donagh: Agnes is a good thought to me surely. Was she telling you we
fixed the day of the wedding yesterday at your uncle's?

Hugh: She was not. A girl like her is often shy of