![]() Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. ![]() His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.Ī few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. He thought of how she who lay beside him had locked in her heart for so many years that image of her lover's eyes when he had told her that he did not wish to live. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. One by one they were all becoming shades. He stretched himself cautiously along under the sheets and lay down beside his wife. ![]() ![]() The air of the room chilled his shoulders. Gabriel Conroy reflects on his wife's former lover, Michael Furey. ![]()
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