“That’s not so, Peigi,” Eibhlin chided her sister. “Anne is correct
when she says that Skye and Dom do not suit. Skye is not like us
in temperament. We favor our mother while she favors Da. Dom
is simply neither strong enough nor sensitive enough to be Skye’s
husband.”

“Hoity-toity, sister,” said Peigi sourly. “It amazes me how much
the wee nun knows about human nature.”

“Indeed and I do,” replied Eibhlin calmly, “for whom do you
think the poor women of my district pour out their unhappiness to,
Peigi? Certainly not the priest! He tells them it is their Christian duty
to be abused by their menfolk! And then he adds to their guilt by
giving them a penance.”

The sisters look shocked, and Anne broke the tension by laughing,
”You’re more a rebel than a holy woman, stepdaughter.”

Eibhlin sighed. “You speak the truth, Anne, and it troubles me
greatly. But though I try I cannot seem to change.”

Anne O’Malley leaned over and fondly patted her stepdaughter
on the hand. “Being a woman is never, ever easy,” she said wisely,
”no matter what role we chose to play in life.”

The two young women smiled fondly at each other with complete
understanding. Then everyone looked startled as they heard shouting in the entry hall below them. As the noise came toward them up the
steps the O’Malley sisters glanced knowingly at each other. They
recognized the voices of Dom O’Flaherty and their sister, Skye.

As the two burst into the main hall, Anne O’Malley was again
struck by the beauty of the two young people. She had never seen
two more physically perfect people, and perhaps this was why her
husband insisted on the match. Anne shivered with apprehension.

Dom O’Flaherty threw his riding gloves on a table. At eighteen
he was of medium height, slender, with beautifully shaped arms,
hands, and legs.