Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [457]
“That day he went downtown in the rain. I asked him not to, but he went to find work, because of her and her condition. And now he lies at death’s door.”
“But mother, it could have happened to anybody. She and William loved each other. You know you were young once,” Fran said.
“Why, my own daughter saying such a thing,” Mrs. Lonigan exclaimed, looking at Fran, outraged. “My own daughter. Well, I’ll have you know that I went to your father’s marriage bed a decent woman.”
“Oh, mother, times have changed a little, and Studs and Catherine were . . . well, they were going to be married,” Fran said.
“Sin is always sin,” the mother said with a wrenched pride, and the two sisters exchanged helpless glances. “Oh, God, that I should have a grandchild born in sin. Well, I never want to see it. I won’t see it. I won’t. It will never darken my door.”
“Mother, it will be William’s child, and William is ours. Catherine is a decent girl. The only reason she did such a thing was because she loved him. You know, William is not blameless in this affair,” Fran said.
“You would say that about your poor brother while he lays at death’s door?” the mother said, frowning at her oldest daughter.
“Oh, mother, now come. Please be sensible. We must be sensible, and we have to be fair to poor Catherine. When she left here, she was ready to break down, poor girl, and she’s facing a hard future. She loves Bill, and he was going to be her husband. We owe it to him to be fair to her,” Loretta said.
“And well she might feel sorry. Well she might. Disgracing herself and her hard-working mother and father, and my poor unhappy family. Disgracing us when we must bear this cross of sorrow. Well might she regret.”
“Mother, you simply must be sensible,” Fran said with controlled exasperation.
“Well she might, with the curse of God on her. I will not raise my little finger to hurt her. She’s in the hands of the Almighty and He has put His curse on her. The first time I met her, I could see that she was possessed by the devil. She never brought him good luck. He killed himself for her. There’s no good luck in such a one and I could have told him so the minute I first set eyes on her.”
Fran left the parlor with a gesture of hopelessness. Loretta walked over to her mother, patted her head.
“Mother, now come and get yourself some rest.”
“Rest when my son is dying?” Mrs. Lonigan broke into tears. “And the day he went out in the rain, he looked so pale and tired. I could see that morning that the strength was no longer in him.”
“Mother, we must be brave,” Loretta said, gritting her teeth, and the mother sighed, as if unhearing.
“That as fine a boy as William should be dying for the likes of her. With his education and all we did for him, that he should go traipsing after her. She’s not good enough for him. She’s common. The chippy. Oh, I tell you the curse of God will be put on her, and she will never know a happy day.”
Mrs. Lonigan drew out a pair of black rosary beads and commenced mumbling the rosary. Returning to the parlor entrance, Fran signalled Loretta, who walked to the hall, unnoticed by her mother.
“Mother is awfully upset,” Loretta said.
“We must be kind to Catherine. Poor thing. She never would have let herself get into such a condition if she didn’t love William.”
“I know it. Poor thing. Won’t she do something to prevent it?”
“I tried to talk to her. She said that an abortion is murder,” Fran said.
“God couldn’t want her to have the baby now.”
“I’ll try again, but she is very set. Poor foolish thing,” Fran said, and Loretta nodded her head, dismayed.
“If she needs the money, Phil and Carroll could provide it. It will disgrace her and us. That people should know about William having a son after he is dead. It will be terrible. What will they say?” Loretta said.
“Of course, she is a little common,” Fran said, nervously tapping her foot on the floor. “William should have selected a girl more suited to the station in life where he belonged. But after all, she is his girl, and for his sake, at least,