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270 T. G. Murray
. . . If it went out about you this day, isn t it destroyed
forever we d be? Look! The story wouldn t be east in
Macroom when we d have the bailiffs walking in that
door. The whole world knows he is to be priested next
June, and only for the great respect they have for us
through the means o that, tisn t James McCarthy alone,
but every other one o them would come down on us
straight for their money. In one week there wouldn t
be a cow left by us, nor a horse, nor a lamb, nor anything
at all! ... Look at them books. Tis about time you
should know how we stand here. . . . God knows, I
wouldn t be hard on you at all, but look at the great load
o money that s on us this day, and mostly all on your ac
count.
Maurice. Mother, don t make my cross harder to
bear.
Mrs. Harte. An would you be seeing a heavier cross
put on them that did all that mortal man and woman
could do for you?
Maurice. Look! I ll wear the flesh off my bones, but
in pity spare me!
Mrs. Harte. And will you have no pity at all on us
and on Owen here, that have slaved for you all our
lives ?
Maurice. Mother ! Mother !
Mrs. Harte. You ll go back? Tis only a mistake?
Maurice. Great God of Heaven! . . .
you ll kill me.
Michael. You ll go back, Maurice? The vocation
will come to you in time with the help of God. It will,
surely.
Maurice. Don t ask me! Don t ask me!
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