Eveline Page #2

"Eveline" is a short story that is part of James Joyce's collection called "Dubliners". The story features a young Irish woman, Eveline, who is living a life of hardship in Dublin. Torn between her sense of duty to take care of her family, a promise she made to her dying mother and a proposal of marriage from sailor Frank who offers her love and a fresh start in Buenos Aires, she must make a significant life decision. As the boat departs, Eveline is crippled by fear and chooses familiarity over the unknown. She ultimately opts to stay in her homeland, representing the struggle of many to break free from the constraints of their environment.

• Children

								

dusty cretonne. Down far in the avenue she could hear a street organ
playing. She knew the air. Strange that it should come that very night
to remind her of the promise to her mother, her promise to keep the
home together as long as she could. She remembered the last night of
her mother’s illness; she was again in the close dark room at the other
side of the hall and outside she heard a melancholy air of Italy. The
organ-player had been ordered to go away and given sixpence. She
remembered her father strutting back into the sickroom saying:

“Damned Italians! coming over here!”

As she mused the pitiful vision of her mother’s life laid its spell on
the very quick of her being—that life of commonplace sacrifices closing
in final craziness. She trembled as she heard again her mother’s voice
saying constantly with foolish insistence:

“Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!”

She stood up in a sudden impulse of terror. Escape! She must escape!
Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. But
she wanted to live. Why should she be unhappy? She had a right to
happiness. Frank would take her in his arms, fold her in his arms. He
would save her.

She stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the North Wall. He
held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her, saying
something about the passage over and over again. The station was full
of soldiers with brown baggages. Through the wide doors of the sheds
she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the
quay wall, with illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her
cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to God
to direct her, to show her what was her duty. The boat blew a long
mournful whistle into the mist. If she went, tomorrow she would be on
the sea with Frank, steaming towards Buenos Ayres. Their passage had
been booked. Could she still draw back after all he had done for her?
Her distress awoke a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in
silent fervent prayer.

A bell clanged upon her heart. She felt him seize her hand:

“Come!”

All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her
into them: he would drown her. She gripped with both hands at the iron
railing.

“Come!”

No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy.
Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish!

“Eveline! Evvy!”

He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was
shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face
to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of
love or farewell or recognition.
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