他首先转过身来望着他的母亲，那双黑眼睛和灰眼睛交流着一种从未用语言表达过的隐秘而又痛苦的感情，这是前所未有的。帕迪那凶狠而又阴沉的目光镇住了他，那目光充满了轻蔑和严峻，仿佛这一切都在他意料之中，而弗兰克那耷拉着的眼皮使他更有理由怒气冲冲了，自从那天以后，除了普通的客套以外，帕迪再也不和弗兰克说话。但是，弗兰克觉得最难堪的莫过于面对那帮孩子们了。他感到羞愧和窘迫，生气勃勃的鸟被从广阔无垠的天空赶了回来，翅膀被剪去，歌声被茫茫的沉寂吞没。
梅吉一直等到菲的例行夜间查铺过去之后。才爬出了敞开的窗口，向后院走去。她知道弗兰克会呆在什么地方，他高高地躺在谷仓里的干草堆上，平安地躲过了窥探的眼睛和他的父亲。
他哼了哼，在草堆里往下滑了滑，直到身子滑得比她还低，然后把头放在她的身子上。梅吉抓着他那又厚又直的头发，低声地哼唱着。谷仓里一片漆黑，无法看见她，但这无形的同情使他的感情开了闸门。他流泪了，身子痛苦地扭动着，他的目光打湿了她的睡衣。梅吉没有哭。在她那幼小的心灵中有些东西已经相当老成了，已经像一个女人那样能感到被别人所需要时的那种不可抗拒的、刺激的欢乐了；她坐在那里，轻轻地摇着他的脑袋，一前一后，一前一后，直到他的悲伤烟消云散。（第一部终）
So saying, he removed Frank's heavy chains and pushed him roughly through the front gate; he stumbled against Paddy, and shrank away as if the contact stung.
The children were
skulking1 by the side of the house twenty feet beyond the adults, watching and waiting. Bob,
Jack2 and Hughie stood stiffly, hoping Frank would put up another fight; Stuart just looked on quietly, from out of his peaceful, sympathetic little soul; Meggie held her hands to her cheeks, pushing and kneading at them in an agony of fear that someone meant to hurt Frank.
He turned to look at his mother first, black eyes into grey in a dark and bitter communion which had never been spoken, nor ever was. Paddy's fierce blue gaze beat him down, contemptuous and
scathing4, as if this was what he had expected, and Frank's downcast lids acknowledged his right to be angry. From that day forward Paddy never
spoke3 to his son beyond common civility. But it was the children Frank found hardest to face, ashamed and embarrassed, the bright bird brought home with the sky unplumbed, wings clipped, song drowned into silence.
Meggie waited until after Fee had done her nightly rounds, then she
wriggled5 through the open window and made off across the backyard. She knew where Frank would be, up in the hay in the barn, safe from
prying6 eyes and his father.
"Frank, Frank, where are you?" she said in a stage whisper as she
shuffled7 into the stilly blackness of the barn, her toes exploring the unknown ground in front of her as sensitively as an animal.
"Over here, Meggie," came his tired voice, hardly Frank's voice at all, no life or passion to it.
She followed the sound to where he was stretched out in the hay, and snuggled down beside him with her arms as far around his chest as they would reach. "Oh, Frank, I'm so glad you're back," she said. He
groaned8, slid down in the straw until he was lower than she, and put his head on her body. Meggie clutched at his thick straight hair, crooning. It was too dark to see her, and the invisible substance of her sympathy
undid9 him. He began to weep, knotting his body into slow twisting rails of pain, his tears soaking her nightgown. Meggie did not weep. Something in her little soul was old enough and woman enough to feel the
irresistible10, stinging joy of being needed; she sat rocking his head back and
forth11, back and forth, until his grief
expended12 itself in emptiness.
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