The Life of Objects Read Free

(a goosander and the rare killdeer), aware that the creature in black riding habit and veiled top hat, strolling with her arm linked in mine, was, at least in Ballycarra, rarer than any killdeer. The countess, who seemed a bit distracted, a quality that I took for sophistication, said that she, too, was
quite
fond of birds, even if she knew nothing about them. Her way of speaking, in which she exaggerated unexpected words, was confusing to me. I wasn’t accustomed to emphasis, and I gave significance to certain of her words and phrases that she perhaps didn’t intend. When she claimed
never
to have seen lace such as mine, I believed her.
    Shortly before the countess was to leave Ballycarra, she suggestedthat I accompany her to Berlin. I would live in the household of her friends, the Metzenburgs, where I would make lace. If I found myself unhappy, a condition she considered unlikely, I could, of course, return to Ireland. Convinced that she was mocking me, I paid her no mind, but she persisted, describing the amiability of her friends, the Metzenburgs, to whom she was devoted, and the excitement of the great city, until I could think of nothing else, causing my mother to ask if I were ill. I said nothing to her of the countess’s invitation but called on Mr. Knox to ask his advice.
    As we walked in the water meadow where he’d first taught me to fish, he saw a short-toed lark and stopped to note it in his journal. I told him, somewhat boastfully, of my unlikely acquaintance with the countess and of the extraordinary proposal she had made me. To my disappointment, he said nothing, only asked if I agreed that there had been fewer corncrakes that year. When I again mentioned the countess, he hushed me, not wishing to startle a redwing that we were following to its nest in an elm. It was my job to carry the long pole that we used to steal nests, and in my distraction, I caught the net in some brambles, causing him to glance at me with uncustomary impatience.
    On the way home, he was unusually silent. I knew that he would eventually tell me his mind—I only had to be patient. He motioned to me to wait as he lit his pipe, then put away his matchbox, and we continued across the field. He wished to check the duck decoys that he kept in the mere, as they attracted large colonies of gadwall and grebe each fall (a deception that always left me melancholy). As we walked, hesaid that men who had reason to know were fearful that a war with Germany was coming, and he hoped that I was giving the countess’s invitation some thought. Despite Mr. Knox’s attempts to educate me, all of my history came from novels—I knew nothing of a coming war. Even if such a war were imminent, I did not see how it could affect me. I was the citizen of a free state.
    He tapped his pipe on the heel of his boot and ground the embers into the dirt. “Who will read to me?” he asked.
    I said that it was thanks to him, to his teaching and to the books that he had encouraged, even pressed me to read, that I had such a yearning for the world and that surely he, of all people, would not deny me the chance to indulge it. I said that it was unlikely that I would ever have such an opportunity again. He agreed somewhat wryly, and I realized from his tone that he would forgive me for leaving him. When we reached the rectory, he gave me his blessing and kissed me on the head. I promised that I would write to him.
    The following morning, I announced to my parents that I was leaving Ballycarra to sew lace for a family in Berlin. My mother promptly declared that I was suffering one of my attacks of grandeur and refused to believe me, even after I asked my bewildered father to loan me a cardboard suitcase from the store’s stock. I told them that the countess, who was arranging for my passport (Lord Vaughan’s brother was in Dublin Castle), would meet me at the train station in two days’ time.
    The night before I left, as I packed and packed again my few belongings