One spring morning, Patrick Gannon stood upon the seashore as the sun rose.
"Lovely morning," he sighed to himself, watching the sea turn from green to blue to something in between. He puffed on his pipe, for nothing could bother Patrick this day.
Except one thing. As he watched the mist rise into the blue sky and the valleys rolling out into the distance, he wished he could share his pleasure with a wife.
"If only I had some company," he said, but the only company he had was his echo. "Hellooo," he called, and listened for his echo's answer.
"Ah, a wife would be fine on such a morning," he sighed again. And it was just at that moment that he happened to spy a rock upon the shore, and upon that rock sat a sight that startled him to silence. And Patrick seldom was silent.
Ah, but this was an astonishing sight, for a beautiful young woman sat upon that rock, and she was combing her hair, hair the color of the sea, hair glistening beneath the morning sunlight.
Patrick looked down at the sand. He knew this was a merrow, one of the sea fairies that people called "Moruadh." He knew it although he had never before seen such a one, but here was his clue. Beside the maiden sat a "cohuleen driuth," a red cap with a feather -- a magic cap, that is, the sort the Moruadh wear to find their way home beneath the sea.
Now the sun rose higher in the sky, and so Patrick thought he must get to know this maiden. He ambled down the shore toward the rock. "Hello," he said, startling the merrow.
She pulled her white gown close, and now she looked to Pat even lovelier.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "I came only to say how pretty you look this morning." When she blushed and looked away for a moment, Patrick grabbed her cap.
Now the merrow let out wail such as Pat had never heard, and saltwater tears washed down her cheeks. Her wails were wrenching, and they tore at Patrick's heart. When she looked at him, his heart nearly broke, for she looked so forlorn.
"Don't cry, dearest," he said, and he sat beside her and took hold of her hand so that he might comfort her.
Now he had his proof, for her hand was not a woman's hand; there was webbing between the fingers, and the skin was as thin and pale as a wedding veil. "Tell me your name," he whispered.
When she did not speak, Patrick thought she must not know how. Or perhaps she could not understand him. And so he thought he would communicate the way anyone would understand. He leaned over and kissed her.
"What?" she cried. "Are you going to eat me?"
Patrick quickly stood. "Never," he said. "Eat someone as fair as you?"
"Then what do you want?" the merrow asked.
Now Patrick remembered his deepest wish: He wanted a wife. And he was already in love with this maiden. "Merrow," said he, "I want to marry you."
She seemed to think about this a while. She leaned over and whispered into the water, and Patrick watched as her words formed ripples that rode out to the sea. "Are you speaking to the water?" he asked.
"I'm sending word to my father, king of the sea. I've told him not to wait for me."
So Patrick put the cap into his pocket, for it is well known that a merrow will lose her memory without her feathered cap.
Now Patrick and the maiden went in to the village, where Father Fitzsimmons happened to be that morning.
The priest, seeing the merrow, said, "Pat, my son, you cannot marry a fishy woman."
But Patrick was determined now. "She's daughter of a king," he said, "and she is the love of my life."
"But she is a fish!" said the priest.
"She has all the water of the sea for the asking," said Patrick. "At any moment I might be wealthy."
"Ah, then," said the priest, "why didn't you say so?" And so he married them, and Patrick and his bride returned to his little cottage.
They lived well together, Patrick and the merrow. They had three children, two boys and one girl, and no one was happier than Patrick Gannon. He might have been so forever, but like so many before him, he sometimes was careless, and one day when he was obliged to leave home for the day, he forgot to hang up his fishing nets. He left his wife tending the home.
No sooner was he gone than Mrs. Gannon was cleaning, and she chanced to spy the fishing nets that Patrick had not put away. When she lifted them, what did she find but a hole in the wall, and in that hole she found her red cap.
Naturally, the moment she found it, she put it on, and she remembered her father and mother, and she felt a deep longing to see them. She walked out the door, turning once to blow a kiss to her sleeping children.
She walked to the shore. There the sea gleamed beneath the sun; it was springtime again. And everything came back to her about the day she had first met Patrick.
That night when Pat came home, he asked his little girl where her mother had gone, but she did not know. One of the neighbors said he'd seen her walking to the shore that very morning. "She wore the strangest cap upon her head," the neighbor said.
So Patrick knew he had lost his beloved merrow. Every day he walked to the shore, hoping that one day his wife would return, but never again did he see her. Still, he never forgot, and he thought it must be true that her father kept her down below against her will, for he knew, the way people do, that she had truly loved him.
"Lovely morning," he sighed to himself, watching the sea turn from green to blue to something in between. He puffed on his pipe, for nothing could bother Patrick this day.
Except one thing. As he watched the mist rise into the blue sky and the valleys rolling out into the distance, he wished he could share his pleasure with a wife.
"If only I had some company," he said, but the only company he had was his echo. "Hellooo," he called, and listened for his echo's answer.
"Ah, a wife would be fine on such a morning," he sighed again. And it was just at that moment that he happened to spy a rock upon the shore, and upon that rock sat a sight that startled him to silence. And Patrick seldom was silent.
Ah, but this was an astonishing sight, for a beautiful young woman sat upon that rock, and she was combing her hair, hair the color of the sea, hair glistening beneath the morning sunlight.
Patrick looked down at the sand. He knew this was a merrow, one of the sea fairies that people called "Moruadh." He knew it although he had never before seen such a one, but here was his clue. Beside the maiden sat a "cohuleen driuth," a red cap with a feather -- a magic cap, that is, the sort the Moruadh wear to find their way home beneath the sea.
Now the sun rose higher in the sky, and so Patrick thought he must get to know this maiden. He ambled down the shore toward the rock. "Hello," he said, startling the merrow.
She pulled her white gown close, and now she looked to Pat even lovelier.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "I came only to say how pretty you look this morning." When she blushed and looked away for a moment, Patrick grabbed her cap.
Now the merrow let out wail such as Pat had never heard, and saltwater tears washed down her cheeks. Her wails were wrenching, and they tore at Patrick's heart. When she looked at him, his heart nearly broke, for she looked so forlorn.
"Don't cry, dearest," he said, and he sat beside her and took hold of her hand so that he might comfort her.
Now he had his proof, for her hand was not a woman's hand; there was webbing between the fingers, and the skin was as thin and pale as a wedding veil. "Tell me your name," he whispered.
When she did not speak, Patrick thought she must not know how. Or perhaps she could not understand him. And so he thought he would communicate the way anyone would understand. He leaned over and kissed her.
"What?" she cried. "Are you going to eat me?"
Patrick quickly stood. "Never," he said. "Eat someone as fair as you?"
"Then what do you want?" the merrow asked.
Now Patrick remembered his deepest wish: He wanted a wife. And he was already in love with this maiden. "Merrow," said he, "I want to marry you."
She seemed to think about this a while. She leaned over and whispered into the water, and Patrick watched as her words formed ripples that rode out to the sea. "Are you speaking to the water?" he asked.
"I'm sending word to my father, king of the sea. I've told him not to wait for me."
So Patrick put the cap into his pocket, for it is well known that a merrow will lose her memory without her feathered cap.
Now Patrick and the maiden went in to the village, where Father Fitzsimmons happened to be that morning.
The priest, seeing the merrow, said, "Pat, my son, you cannot marry a fishy woman."
But Patrick was determined now. "She's daughter of a king," he said, "and she is the love of my life."
"But she is a fish!" said the priest.
"She has all the water of the sea for the asking," said Patrick. "At any moment I might be wealthy."
"Ah, then," said the priest, "why didn't you say so?" And so he married them, and Patrick and his bride returned to his little cottage.
They lived well together, Patrick and the merrow. They had three children, two boys and one girl, and no one was happier than Patrick Gannon. He might have been so forever, but like so many before him, he sometimes was careless, and one day when he was obliged to leave home for the day, he forgot to hang up his fishing nets. He left his wife tending the home.
No sooner was he gone than Mrs. Gannon was cleaning, and she chanced to spy the fishing nets that Patrick had not put away. When she lifted them, what did she find but a hole in the wall, and in that hole she found her red cap.
Naturally, the moment she found it, she put it on, and she remembered her father and mother, and she felt a deep longing to see them. She walked out the door, turning once to blow a kiss to her sleeping children.
She walked to the shore. There the sea gleamed beneath the sun; it was springtime again. And everything came back to her about the day she had first met Patrick.
That night when Pat came home, he asked his little girl where her mother had gone, but she did not know. One of the neighbors said he'd seen her walking to the shore that very morning. "She wore the strangest cap upon her head," the neighbor said.
So Patrick knew he had lost his beloved merrow. Every day he walked to the shore, hoping that one day his wife would return, but never again did he see her. Still, he never forgot, and he thought it must be true that her father kept her down below against her will, for he knew, the way people do, that she had truly loved him.
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