BARTLEY. _Taking the halter._—I must go now quickly. I’ll ride down on the red mare, and the gray pony’ll run behind me. . . The blessing of God on you. [_He goes out._] MAURYA. _Crying out as he is in the door._—He’s gone now, God spare us, and we’ll not see him again. He’s gone now, and when the black night is falling I’ll have no son left me in the world. CATHLEEN. Why wouldn’t you give him your blessing and he looking round in the door? Isn’t it sorrow enough is on every one in this house without your sending him out with an unlucky word behind him, and a hard word in his ear? [_Maurya takes up the tongs and begins raking the fire aimlessly without looking round._] NORA. _Turning towards her._—You’re taking away the turf from the cake. CATHLEEN. _Crying out._—The Son of God forgive us, Nora, we’re after forgetting his bit of bread. [_She comes over to the fire._] NORA. And it’s destroyed he’ll be going till dark night, and he after eating nothing since the sun went up. CATHLEEN. _Turning the cake out of the oven._—It’s destroyed he’ll be, surely. There’s no sense left on any person in a house where an old woman will be talking for ever. [_Maurya sways herself on her stool._] CATHLEEN. _Cutting off some of the bread and rolling it in a cloth; to Maurya._—Let you go down now to the spring well and give him this and he passing. You’ll see him then and the dark word will be broken, and you can say “God speed you,” the way he’ll be easy in his mind. MAURYA. _Taking the bread._—Will I be in it as soon as himself? CATHLEEN. If you go now quickly. MAURYA. _Standing up unsteadily._—It’s hard set I am to walk. CATHLEEN. _Looking at her anxiously._—Give her the stick, Nora, or maybe she’ll slip on the big stones. NORA. What stick? CATHLEEN. The stick Michael brought from Connemara. MAURYA. _Taking a stick Nora gives her._—In the big world the old people do be leaving things after them for their sons and children, but in this place it is the young men do be leaving things behind for them that do be old. [_She goes out slowly. Nora goes over to the ladder._] CATHLEEN. Wait, Nora, maybe she’d turn back quickly. She’s that sorry, God help her, you wouldn’t know the thing she’d do. NORA. Is she gone round by the bush? CATHLEEN. _Looking out._—She’s gone now. Throw it down quickly, for the Lord knows when she’ll be out of it again. NORA. _Getting the bundle from the loft._—The young priest said he’d be passing to-morrow, and we might go down and speak to him below if it’s Michael’s they are surely. CATHLEEN. _Taking the bundle._—Did he say what way they were found? NORA. _Coming down._—“There were two men,” says he, “and they rowing round with poteen before the cocks crowed, and the oar of one of them caught the body, and they passing the black cliffs of the north.” CATHLEEN. _Trying to open the bundle._—Give me a knife, Nora, the string’s perished with the salt water, and there’s a black knot on it you wouldn’t loosen in a week.