1949 by Morgan Llywelyn

That’s it. That is just what he would do. Gone north to defend our people .
    Nevertheless she kept watching for Ned.
    She had always searched passing faces. Hoping—fearing—to find one that looked like her face.
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    Over four years had elapsed since the official end of the Civil War, yet the unresolved conflict continued. Dublin rang with gunfire in the night. Men from both sides were tumbled into unmarked graves down the country. Increasingly disillusioned with militarism, the public, encouraged by the government, put the entire blame on the IRA. There was little or no criticism of government forces. The attitude was, “Sure we voted for that crowd, didn’t we?”
    Playwright Seán O’Casey, who originally had been a member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood, became one of republicanism’s most outspoken critics. The man who once wrote in fury of the English, “These men ramped over the land for hundreds of years; shot, hanged the leaders of the Irish who wouldn’t agree with them, and jammed the jails with the rest,” 2 had been embittered by the Civil War. His hatred for the IRA now exceeded his hatred for those against whom they had rebelled.
    O’Casey’s postrevolutionary trilogy, The Shadow of a Gunman, Juno and the Paycock , and The Plough and the Stars , deliberately restricted the revolution to the filth and decay of the Dublin slums. The nationwide impulse for freedom was ignored. Republican characters were depicted as repellent and morally bankrupt. According to O’Casey it was not the rebels who were dying for the ordinary people, but the ordinary people who were dying for the rebels.
    After a controversial beginning the plays became hugely popular.
    Ursula refused to attend any of them.
    In November a concert featuring the newly christened Radio Éireann Symphony Orchestra, conducted by musical director Vincent O’Brien, was given in the Metropolitan Hall. A reduced price of one shilling was available for the working classes, who were allowed in first. “Upper class” tickets were sold at an increased price. 3
    At Surval Ursula had acquired a taste for classical music. On the appointed evening she went to the concert hall straight from work. As she waited to purchase her ticket, she automatically scanned the faces of people walking past.
    One of them paused, then grinned. Most Irish women dropped their eyes when confronted with a man’s gaze. Ursula smiled back.
    When the young man whipped off his hat, crisp red hair rose from his scalp like a forest fire. A wholesome, pleasant, open countenance, with brown eyes sparkling amid a face full of freckles. “Miss Halloran? Do you not remember me? Finbar Cassidy from the passport office?”
    â€œI do of course. I’m surprised you remember me, though.”
    â€œOh, I’d never forget you,” he assured her. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œI’m going to the concert. Our orchestra is playing a Beethoven symphony tonight.”
    â€œâ€˜Our’ orchestra?”
    â€œI’m employed by the Dublin Broadcasting Station,” Ursula said proudly. “Are you interested in classical music yourself?”
    â€œI’m a brand new convert,” Cassidy assured her. He dug in the pocket of his Crombie overcoat and pulled out his wallet. “Will you be my guest?”
    â€œI pay my own way, thank you.”
    â€œSurely a young lady like yourself…”
    â€œI pay my own way,” she repeated. Then she smiled. “But I’ll save a seat for you next to mine, if you like.”
    Her smile was amazing. Finbar luxuriated in it for a moment while every other thought skittered from his mind. Recovering himself, he bought a program at the door to share with her. As they sat in their brown plush seats their arms almost, but not quite, touched. From time to time she glanced at him covertly. He whispered, “They’re quite good, I