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Updated: May 3, 2025
Let one bawl out of you and Patch Keetly will be at hand to take the mare by the head. He will bring you to the house where Kevin Hooban is lying in his trouble.
The peasant turned a soft black hat nervously in his hands as he delivered his message. The Friar who visited ailing people was, he said, wanted. A young man was lying very ill away up on the hills. Nothing that had been done for him was of any account. He was now very low, and his people were troubled. Maybe the Friar would come and raise his holy hands over Kevin Hooban?
And these two peasant women, very quick in both their intuitions and their intelligence, seemed at the very moment of the breakdown of the first attempt at conversation to understand him and he to understand them. The elder of the women led the priest into a room off the kitchen where I knew Kevin Hooban lay ill. The younger woman put a chair before the fire and invited me to sit there.
We mounted the car. The groups of men drew about us, their movements again sounding like the shuffling of shy animals on the sod, and they broke silence for the first time. There was more said about Kevin Hooban. From various allusions, vague and unsubstantial, little touches in the kind, musical voices, I gathered that they believed him to be under the influence of the Good People.
It was the face of an artist, an idealist, intensified, idealised, by illness, by suffering, by excitement, and I wondered if the vision which Kevin Hooban had of playing the fideóg by the river, when it ran clear in April, were a vision of his heaven or his earth. We left the house. Patch Keetly was taking the loop from a trace as he harnessed the mare in the yellow light of a stable lantern.
"Oh, you are heading for the house where Kevin Hooban is lying sick?" "Yes." "The priest is going to read over him?" "Yes." "And maybe they are expecting him?" "Yes." "We heard it said he is very low, a strangeness coming over him." "Is the house far?" "No, not too far when you are once a-past the demesne wall, with the ivy upon it. Keep on the straight road.
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