excerpt
What words, thoughts, ideas or emotions would change the soul of Finn MacLir?
Oh God, Father in Heaven, Padraig prayed silently, help me to help this man.
“Will they be married?” Padraig knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the flabby words had fallen from his lips.
“Ha! You Christians. They are married. As married as they’ll ever be. The first night Michael had the temerity to brave that dark loaney from the cottage, sneak in here, creep up the stairs and take her, Caitlin was his. He’ll come to see me in his own good time and ask my blessing. Right now he’s eating what he thinks is stolen fruit, and it savours so much sweeter for the risk.”
Finn’s inconceivable lack of concern for his daughter’s welfare shocked the saintly priest. “Is it a good match, Finn?”
“Why shouldn’t it be? She’s a woman, he’s a man. That’s the usual match, isn’t it?”
“But would their union be blessed by God in church?”
“Ah, that’s your concern, is it?” Finn shifted his weight in the chair. “A good marriage doesn’t have to be blessed by that damned God of yours, Padraig. And many who married in church have lived to regret it. Don’t worry about Caitlin.”
“But what if Caitlin finds she is going to have a child?” Padraig asked.
“Maybe that’s when Michael will come for my blessing,” Finn said. “Padraig, you have a lot yet to learn about life. And maybe a few years in this parish will teach you some of it. But for you it will only be a continuation of your book-learning or your school lessons. You’ll hear about it; but you won’t take part in it yourself. You take life too seriously. You take no joy in it.”
Padraig felt hurt by Finn’s words but tried not to show it. He recalled the big fellow with the tousled, yellow hair at the table this evening. “I think Caitlin could do a lot better,” he said.
Finn clenched his teeth, and the muscles of his jaw stood out like tumours. “Do you know, Padraig, I could despise you for a remark like that. You would have her marry a lawyer, a businessman, a doctor? A Clifford Hamilton, say? Would that guarantee for Caitlin a happier life than she would have with Michael? No, it doesn’t. Clifford Hamilton has been chasing her for years and she won’t have him. And not because he’s younger than she is. She’s too wise. She prefers Michael Carrick. People like you, like Flynn Casey, no doubt like Clifford Hamilton, don’t know what Caitlin sees …
Hellenic Canadian Literature 