Excerpt from An Isle in the Water

Question

Katherine Tynan


Read the excerpt from the short story below to find out how the people of a small community respond to a person who returns to their town after a long absence.


1 Margaret Laffan was something of a mystery. While young, she had disappeared for six years, but she had turned up on the small island community one day in a starched, blue and white checked dress, which looked suspiciously like workhouse or asylum1 garb. She had greeted the neighbors with a nod, as if she had seen them yesterday.

2 Over time, a rumor spread that Margaret, who lived alone, must be saving money; her clothes were worn practically threadbare. Grim and dour, Margaret chose to remain isolated from nearly everyone.

3 Jack Laffan, Margaret's brother, was a sociable man, quite unlike his sister. Jack had a wife known to all as Mrs. Jack. Jack was rather fond of idling with his companions, but, being well under Mrs. Jack's thumb, this habit was unlikely to be tolerated for long.

4 Mrs. Jack was known for being a domineering woman. There was never much love lost between her and Margaret, and Mrs. Jack's guesses were perhaps the most ill-natured as to the reasons for Margaret's silence and her curious, checked clothing.

5 For twenty-five years, Margaret lived alone, untroubled by her relatives. Then, there was talk about money, and this gossip grew like a snowball from little beginnings. This talk fired Mrs. Jack with a curious excitement, for she believed any extravagant story. She blamed Jack for long ignoring Margaret. When he stared at his wife, dumbfounded, she shook him until his teeth rattled.

6 That very day Jack stupidly went to try to bridge the gulf of thirty years of ignoring his sister. Margaret watched him with grim enjoyment while he wriggled miserably and tried to talk naturally. Finally, he jerked out his wife's invitation to dine with them the following Sunday, which Margaret accepted without showing any pleasure; then Jack bolted from the house.

7 Margaret came to dinner on Sunday and was well entertained, for the Laffans were prosperous. Though hardly speaking, Margaret thoroughly enjoyed her dinner. When she left, Mrs. Jack declared her "a flinty-hearted old maid." Nevertheless, Margaret dined each Sunday with the Laffans, and Mrs. Jack noticed that the dinners were putting a roundness on Margaret that might give her a new lease on life--perhaps not a desirable result.

8 The neighbors regarded Mrs. Jack's "antics" as scandalous behavior. They met to discuss it, concluding that Mrs. Jack was shameless in her pursuit of Margaret's money. In fact, most women on the island thought they had as virtuous a right to Margaret's money as her newly-attentive kinfolks. The neighbors, Mrs. Devine and Mrs. Cahill, might agree in the morning that Mrs. Jack's avarice and greed were loathsome. Neither seemed pleased, however, to see the other one a little later in the day, when Mrs. Cahill climbed the hill with a full basket and met Mrs. Devine descending with an empty one. These pilgrimages to Margaret's cottage became routine. All of this "friendship" for Margaret created curious divisions and much animosity.

9 After a time, Margaret grew feebler. One Sunday she attended mass, walking with a stick and looking quite ill. After mass, she spoke privately with Father Tiernay and then went slowly to Jack's house for the usual dinner. Both Jack and Mrs. Jack walked her home in the afternoon, and she said quietly, "I'm thinkin' I'll make no more journeys to mass; Father Tiernay'll have to come to me instead."

10 When news spread of Margaret's failing health, attentions to her became more urgent. Neighbors passed each other on the way to their visits. Mrs. Jack spent her days quivering with indignation at the meddlesomeness of the other women. She woke Jack up once in the night with a fiery declaration that she'd speak to Father Tiernay about the pursuit of her moneyed relative, but Jack threw cold water on that scheme. He commented that the reverend would be as glad as anyone to get the money himself to build the schoolhouse he wanted.

11 Each day several offerings were laid at Margaret's feet. Suddenly, she changed her stereotyped thanks to say mysteriously, "You may be feeding more than you know, kind neighbors." This mysterious statement caused the women to speculate about Margret's sanity.

12 One day, everything changed. A big, angular girl with Margaret's suspicious eyes and cynical mouth arrived with a trunk. The reverend claimed to know all about the woman named Mary, saying, "Indeed, I've been trying to restore Margaret's daughter to her. You never knew your sister-in-law was married, Mrs. Jack? Long ago, she dropped her married name."

13 Mrs. Jack, with an emotion which even the reverend's presence could not quell, let out what the neighbors described afterwards as a "screech fit to wake the dead," and fled into her house, where she fell hysterically onto her bed. She only recovered when Mrs. Devine and Mrs. Cahill ran in and proposed to drench her with cold water. Mrs. Jack stood up and suggested they tend to their own business.

14 The townspeople heard the news that Margaret had once married on the mainland, and after the birth of her daughter Mary, had suffered from a mental disorder, and was placed in the county asylum. In time, she was declared cured, and her husband was coming for her, but Margaret, having had enough of marriage and its responsibilities, left quietly and moved to the island. She had been content to be regarded as a spinster2 until she felt her health failing; then, she had entrusted her secret to Father Tiernay, who had found her daughter for her.

15 Margaret lived some months after that and left thirty pounds3 to her daughter. Some curious neighbors visited Mary, but the door was shut in their faces, for Mary had Margaret's suspiciousness, but it was even more intensified. After the Laffan family had recovered from the first shocking disappointment, they made various approaches to Mary at mass on Sundays, and even sent her jewelry at Christmas. The gift was returned with a curt suggestion that Mary had no use for it. Margaret's money did not even remain on the island, for Mary fled with all of it early one morning before the neighbors awoke. And there the matter ended.

1asylum - an institution that cares for the mentally ill, orphans, or others who need assistance
2spinster - a woman who has never married
3thirty pounds - a British term for an amount of money, today equal to almost forty dollars in U.S. currency

Tynan, Katherine. An Isle in the Water. Adam and Charles Black. 1896. London. In the public domain. Adapted by Educational Leadership Solutions, Inc.

Read the prompt and then write your response.

You have read “Excerpt from An Isle in the Water,” about a woman who moves back to her old town and its residents’ schemes to obtain her money.

Imagine you are one of the town’s residents. What would you do when Margaret Laffan comes back to town? Would you try to pursue her money? If so, how would you go about doing so? Include descriptive details and dialogue between you and other characters, and use details from the passage in your story.

Answer 1

As I stood on the porch of my little cottage, sipping my morning tea, the sun's rays glimmered off the ripples of the water. Today was not just any day—it was the day Margaret Laffan, that mysterious figure, returned to our little island. Having heard the whispers of her arrival, my heart thrummed with both excitement and dread.

“I think we ought to pay her a visit, wouldn’t you agree, Mary?” I mused, looking over at my friend Mary Cahill, who was joining me for tea. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Oh, definitely! We can’t let that woman wallow in her solitude forever,” Mary replied, her mouth curling into a grin. “Especially not when there is money involved. I heard she’s been living like a hermit. It wouldn’t do to let her keep all that cash to herself.”

“Right. We must be strategic, my dear,” I said, stroking my chin. “The best way to approach Margaret is with kindness.”

With that plan in mind, we grabbed our shawls and set out towards her cottage, an air of determination around us. As we walked, we spotted Mrs. Jack, her sharp tongue flapping away in a flurry of indignation, discussing with anyone who would listen that her poor husband had long ignored his sister and how she should be taken care of.

“Those two are a real pair of torments, aren’t they?” I whispered to Mary as we passed by her.

“Indeed! But we shall be the benevolent friends, showing her all the love and warmth she has been missing,” Mary responded, nudging me with her elbow.

When we arrived at Margaret’s cottage, I hesitated at the threshold, heart pounding with anticipation. “Well, here goes nothing,” I said, knocking on the weathered door. It creaked open somewhat reluctantly, revealing Margaret’s solemn face.

“What do you want?” she asked, her suspicion evident.

“Good day to you, Margaret!” I forced a cheerfulness I didn’t entirely feel. “We brought you some scones and tea. Thought we might share a spot of company.” I gestured toward the basket nestled under my arm.

Margaret’s eyes narrowed, suspicion edging into her voice. “And why, pray tell, would you bother with me?”

“Oh, we thought it would lift your spirits!” Mary piped in, stepping beside me with a forced smile. “You’re a part of our community, after all.”

“Part of the community,” she echoed as if the words were foreign to her. A glimmer of curiosity flickered across her face, but she quickly masked it behind a hardened expression. “I don’t need your sympathy,” she went on, crossing her arms.

As I stepped inside, heart racing, I caught a glimpse of her sparse but neat home. “We must all look after one another here, dear Margaret. It’s what neighbors do.” I reached into the basket and produced the scones, setting them on her table. “Besides, we hear you’ve been a little under the weather lately. Wouldn’t it be nice to break bread together?”

Margaret’s resolve seemed to waver. She stepped back, considering the offer. “Aye, fine. But don’t think this means I’ll be handing over my money,” she muttered, glancing at us sideways.

“Of course not!” Mary was quick to reassure, her voice a tad too eager. “We don't want anything but your company and friendship.”

As we sat together for tea, I could see the tension in Margaret’s shoulders easing slightly. Life on the island had changed; having once avoided the other residents, and being just as isolated as she was, we now had her in our presence.

Days turned to weeks, and soon it became routine. We’d offer our help with housework, gardening, and our never-ending supply of gossip, always circling back to Margaret's curious wealth. I could see the wheels turning in Mary’s mind; she was already plotting ways to secure at least a taste of what Margaret might leave behind.

Sometimes, after one of our visits, Mary would announce with a conspiratorial whisper, “Why, if we’re ever so good to her, maybe she’ll entrust us with her secrets, and then her money will be our good fortune too.” I nodded, though unease settled in my stomach—Margaret was not just a means to an end, but a person deserving of care.

But as the weeks passed, the excitement over Margaret’s wealth grew like a fever in the town, and soon, even my morality began to show cracks. I started hosting small gatherings, always mentioning Margaret and binding our friendships with the thread of her rumored riches. Together, the residents began to weave an insidious web of “kindness,” disguised as concern.

One Sunday, as we walked to mass with Margaret, I couldn’t help but lean over and mutter, “You know, Margaret, I hear a good many people gossiping about your fortune. It seems everyone has an eye on your riches.”

She laughed softly, a bitter, cynical sound. “Aye. And maybe it’s your eye that is the sharpest of all.”

For an instant, I froze. Had I leaned too far into the role of the crafty neighbor? Would Margaret see through our facade and withdraw, sealing herself off again? But as I looked at her frail form, somehow both wise and shy, I resolved to remain entwined in her life, not just for the potential of her fortune, but because maybe—just maybe—she was worth knowing.

Little did I know, that when Margaret's daughter appeared, she would turn our little game completely on its head. As it turned out, it was not just our neighbor who was a mystery, but the very relationships we thought we had built, all under the shadow of greed and suspicion.