It was the night
before she died. I heard a little moan, that was more like the wind
than anything else, and then it grew louder, and it was a sob and a
soft wail. It did not grow very loud. Then I could hear that it was
like the keen that the women cry over the dead at home. I knew that it
was the banshee. No, I could not be wrong about her; I had heard her
before. But I never thought of Kitty then. I thought: 'I'm an old
woman--an old woman--though I would never let them say so; and now my
time has come. I shall soon be with him again. If I could only see a
child of John's and Kitty's before I go, I'ld go gladly. If I could
only say to him: "Before I came to you I held John's and Kitty's child
in my arms," then I'ld go gladly.' That was what I said to myself that
time. But it was Kitty that the banshee meant. And now, though I felt
then the first time that I was an old woman, here I am still, and
Kitty is gone and the child is grown up to be a woman and she is lost.
But she is not dead, John; she is not dead. Kathleen couldn't die
without I'ld hear the banshee.
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