excerpt
“It’s not the priest that’s important,” Nora argued in her soft voice. “It’s God.”
“It’s not God that’s important,” Caitlin countered; “it’s gossip. People fear gossip more than they fear God.”
“Caitlin, that’s blasphemous.” Nora was angry, and hurt even more than angry. “That’s just not true. You know it’s not. That’s our father’s influence coming out in you.” Then she burst into tears and ran away along the shore.
Caitlin watched her disappear round Purdy’s Point with a deepening dejection. She regretted having hurt Nora, one of the kindest and gentlest people on earth. But sometimes Nora’s goodness and selflessness made Caitlin angry. No one had the right to be that good. And Caitlin regretted her gibe about God and gossip. That was a stupid attack on Nora’s most deeply cherished beliefs. That had hurt her. Nora’s self-appointed task was to keep her sister on the strait and narrow path of Christianity, a task that put her in the position of warring against her own father. As Caitlin turned and resumed her walk along the breezy shore, she realised how difficult was the dilemma that poor Nora had constantly to wrestle with. It was to Nora’s credit—everything about Nora was maddeningly creditable—that she had never disowned her father, had never tried to distance herself from him. “Honour thy father and thy mother …” That was it. Obedience to the commandments of God. Yet Caitlin was convinced that Nora acted not only out of obedience to God but also out of a genuine love of her father. “Honour thy father,” God had commanded. “But what if my father is an atheist who denies You, Lord?” Nora had chosen to honour him anyway, as Caitlin herself did, as even the holy and righteous Padraig did.
By the time Caitlin came in sight of the harbour the dark pools of her thoughts had given off a murky fog of unease that wrapped its clammy fronds around her. With no rational explanation Caitlin sensed that something unpleasant lay ahead of her, ahead of all of them, something unsettling and perilous that the fog of future days kept hidden.
Caitlin reached the harbour without meeting Michael. The harbour was small and square and snugly inset in a deep notch where the Shannagh River met the sea in the only creek along this reach of rocky coast where boats could shelter safely. In earlier times just two small indentations were dug from the side of the dark, craggy river, and the boats that crowded into them could come and go only at high tide. Now massive granite wharfs enclosed the harbour, and the pool within was deepened to accommodate the fishing boats and tall-masted schooners.
Libros Libertad 