The Colleen Bawn

ACT I.

Hard [Going up C.] Hist! Danny, are you there?

Danny Is it yourself, Masther Hardress?

Hard Is the boat ready?

Danny Snug under the blue rock, sir.

Hard Does Eily expect me to-night?

Danny Expict is it? Here is a lether she bade me give yes; sure the young thing is never aisy when you are away. Look, masther, dear, do ye see that light, no bigger than a star beyant on Muckross Head?

Hard Yes, it is the signal which my dear Eily leaves burning in our chamber.

Danny All night long she sits beside that light, wid her face fixed on that lamp in your windy above.

Hard Dear, dear Eily! after all here’s asleep, I will leap from my window, and we’ll cross the lake.

Danny [Searching.] Where did I put that lether?

Kyrle [L.] Hardress, who is that with you?

Hard [C.] Only Mann, my boatman.

Kyrle That fellow is like your shadow.

Danny [R.] Is it a cripple like me, that would be the shadow of an illegant gintleman like Mr. Hardress Cregan?

Kyrle [L.] Well, I mean that he never leaves your side.

Hard [C.] And he never shall leave me. Ten years ago he was a fine boy—we were foster-brothers, and playmates—in a moment of passion, while we were struggling, I flung him from the gap rock into the reeks below, and thus he was maimed for life.

Danny Arrah! whist aroon! wouldn’t I die for yez? didn’t the same mother foster us? Why, wouldn’t ye break my back if it plazed ye, and welkim! Oh, Masther Kyrle, if ye’d seen him nursin’ me for months, and cryin’ over me, and keenin’! Sin’ that time, sir, my body’s been crimpin’ up smaller and smaller every year, but my heart is gettin’ bigger for him every day.

Hard Go along, Danny.

Danny Long life t’ye, sir! I’m off.

Kyrle Hardress, a word with you. Be honest with me—do you love Anne Chute?

Hard Why do you ask?

Kyrle Because we have been fellow-collegians and friends through life, and the five years that I have passed at sea have strengthened, but have not cooled, my feelings towards you. [Offers hand.

Hard [L.] Nor mine for you, Kyrle. You are the same noble fellow as ever. You ask me if I love my cousin Anne?

Mrs. C [C., between them.] And I will answer you, Mr. Daly.

Hard [R.] My mother!

Mrs. C [C.] My son and Miss Chute are engaged. Excuse me, Kyrle, for intruding on your secret, but I have observed your love for Anne with some regret. I hope your heart is not so far gone as to be beyond recovery.

Kyrle [L.] Forgive me, Mrs. Cregan, but are you certain that Miss Chute really is in love with Hardress?

Mrs. C Look at him! I’m sure no girl could do that and doubt it.

Kyrle But I’m not a girl, ma’am; and sure, if you are mistaken—

Hard My belief is that Anne does not care a token for me, and likes Kyrle better.

Mrs. C [C.] You are an old friend of my son, and I may confide to you a family secret. The extravagance of my husband left this estate deeply involved. By this marriage with Anne Chute we redeem every acre of our barony. My son and she have been brought up as children together, and don’t know their true feelings yet.

Hard Stop, mother, I know this: I would not wed my cousin if she did not love me, not if she carried the whole county Kerry in her pocket, and the barony of Kenmare in the crown of her hat.

Mrs. C Do you hear the proud blood of the Cregans?

Hard Woo her, Kyrle, if you like, and win her if you can. I’ll back you.

Anne [L. C.] So will I—What’s the bet?

Mrs. C Hush!

Anne I’d like to have bet on Kyrle.

Hard Well, Anne, I’ll tell you what it was.

Mrs. C [C.] Hardress!

Anne [L. C.] Pull in one side aunt, and let the boy go on.

Hard [R.] Kyrle wanted to know if the dark brown colt, Hardress Cregan, was going to walk over the course for the Anne Chute Stakes, or whether it was a scrub-race open to all.

Anne I’m free-trade—coppleens, mules and biddys.

Mrs. C How can you trifle with a heart like Kyrle’s?

Anne Trifle! his heart can be no trifle, if he’s all in proportion.

Servant Squire Corrigan, ma’am, begs to see you.

Mrs C At this hour, what can the fellow want? Show Mr. Corrigan here. [Exit Servant into house, L.] I hate this man; he was my husband’s agent, or what the people here call a middle-man—vulgarly polite, and impudently obsequious.

Hard [R.] Genus squireen—a half sir, and a whole scoundrel.

Anne I know—a potatoe on a silver plate: I’ll leave you to peel him. Come, Mr. Daly, take me for a moonlight walk, and be funny.

Kyrle Funny, ma’am, I’m afraid I am—

Anne You are heavy, you mean; you roll through the world like a hogshead of whisky; but you only want tapping for pure spirits to flow out spontaneously. Give me your arm. [Crossing, R.] Hold that glove now. You are from Ballinasloe, I think?

Kyrle I’m Connaught to the core of my heart.

Anne To the roots of your hair, you mean. I bought a horse at Ballinasloe fair that deceived me; I hope you won’t turn out to belong to the same family.

Kyrle [R. C.] What did he do?

Anne Oh! like you, he looked well enough—deep in the chest as a pool—a-dhiol, and broad in the back as the Gap of Dunloe—but after two days’ warm work he came all to pieces, and Larry, my groom, said he’d been stuck together with glue.

Kyrle [R.] Really, Miss Chute! [Music.—Exeunt, R. 1 E.

Hard [Advancing, laughing.] That girl is as wild as a coppleen,—she won’t leave him a hair on the head. [Goes up.

Corrigan [L.] Your humble servant, Mrs. Cregan—my service t’ye, ’Squire—it’s a fine night, entirely.

Mrs. C [C.] May I ask to what business, sir, we have the honor of your call?

Corrig [Aside, L. C.] Proud as a Lady Beelzebub, and as grand as a queen. [Aloud.] True for you, ma’am; I would not have, come, but for a divil of a pinch I’m in entirely. I’ve got to pay £8,000 to-morrow or lose the Knockmakilty farms.

Mrs. C Well, sir?

Corrig And I wouldn’t throuble ye—

Mrs. C Trouble me, sir?

Corrig Iss, ma’am—ye’d be forgettin’ now that mortgage I have on this property. It ran out last May, and by rights—

Mrs. C It will be paid next month.

Corrig Are you reckonin’ on the marriage of Mister Hardress and Miss Anne Chute?

Hard [Advancing, R.] Mr. Corrigan, you forget yourself.

Mrs. C Leave us, Hardress, a while. [Hardress retires, R.] Now, Mr. Corrigan, state, in as few words as possible, what you demand.

Corrig Mrs. Cregan, ma’am, you depend on Miss Anne Chute’s fortune to pay me the money, but your son does not love the lady, or, if he does, he has a mighty quare way of showing it. He has another girl on hand, and betune the two he’ll come to the ground, and so bedad will I.

Mrs. C That is false—it is a calumny, sir!

Corrig I wish it was, ma’am. D’ye see that light over the lake? your son’s eyes are fixed on it. What would Anne Chute say if she knew that her husband, that is to be, had a mistress beyant—that he slips out every night after you’re all in bed, and like Leandher, barrin’ the wettin’, he sails across to his sweetheart?

Mrs. C Is this the secret of his aversion to the marriage? Fool! fool! what madness, and at such a moment.

Corrig That’s what I say, and no lie in it.

Mrs. C He shall give up this girl—he must!

Corrig I would like to have some security for that. I want, by to-morrow, Anne Chute’s written promise to marry him, or my £8,000.

Mrs. C It is impossible, sir; you hold ruin over our heads.

Corrig Madam, it’s got to hang over your head or mine.

Mrs. C Stay; you know that what you ask is out of our power—you know it—therefore this demand only covers the true object of your visit.

Corrig ’Pon my honor! and you are as ’cute, ma’am, as you are beautiful!

Mrs. C Go on, sir.

Corrig Mrs. Cregan, I’m goin’ to do a foolish thing—now, by gorra I am! I’m richer than ye think, maybe, and if you’ll give me your personal security, I’ll take it.

Mrs. C What do you mean?

Corrig I meant that I’ll take a lien for life on you, instead of the mortgage I hold on the Cregan property. [Aside.] That’s nate, I’m thinkin’.

Mrs. C Are you mad?

Corrig I am—mad in love with yourself, and that’s what I’ve been these fifteen years. [Music through dialogue, till Anne Chute is off.

Mrs. C Insolent wretch! my son shall answer and chastise you. [Calls.] Hardress!

Hard [Advancing.] Madam.

Corrig Miss Chute! }

Hard Well, mother? } [Together.]

Anne Well, sir?        }

Mrs. C [Aside.] Scoundrel! he will tell her all and ruin us! [Aloud.] Nothing. [Turns aside.

Corrig Your obedient.

Anne Oh! [Crosses with Kyrle and exit, L. U. E.—Music ceases.

Corrig You are in my power, ma’am. See, now, not a sowl but myself knows of this secret love of Hardress Cregan, and I’ll keep it as snug as a bug in a rug, if you’ll only say the word.

Mrs. C Contemptible hound, I loathe and despise you!

Corrig I’ve known that fifteen years, but it hasn’t cured my heart ache.

Mrs. C And you would buy my aversion and disgust!

Corrig Just as Anne Chute buys your son, if she knew but all. Can he love his girl beyant, widout haten this heiress he’s obliged to swallow?—ain’t you sthriven to sell him? But you didn’t feel the hardship of being sold till you tried it on yourself.

Mrs. C I beg you, sir, to leave me.

Corrig That’s right, ma’am—think over it, sleep on it. To-morrow, I’ll call for your answer. Good evenin’ kindly.

Mrs. C Hardress.

Hard What did he want?

Mrs. C He came to tell me the meaning of yonder light upon Muckross Head.

Hard Ah! has it been discovered? Well, mother, now you know the cause of my coldness, my indifference for Anne.

Mrs. C Are you in your senses, Hardress? Who is this girl?

Hard She is known at every fair and pattern in Munster as the Colleen Bawn—her name is Eily O’Connor.

Mrs. C A peasant girl—a vulgar, barefooted beggar!

Hard Whatever she is, love has made her my equal, and when you set your foot upon her you tread upon my heart.

Mrs. C ’Tis well, Hardress. I feel that perhaps I have no right to dispose of your life and your happiness—no, my dear son—I would not wound you—heaven knows how well I love my darling boy, and you shall feel it. Corrigan has made me an offer by which you may regain the estate, and without selling yourself to Anne Chute.

Hard What is it? Of course you accepted it?

Mrs. C No, but I will accept, yes, for your sake—I—I will. He offers to cancel this mortgage if—if—I will consent to—become his wife.

Hard You—you, mother? Has he dared—

Mrs. C Hush! he is right. A sacrifice must be made—either you or I must suffer. Life is before you—my days are well nigh past—and for your sake, Hardress—for yours; my pride, my only one.—Oh! I would give you more than my life.

Hard Never—never! I will not—can not accept it. I’ll tear that dog’s tongue from his throat that dared insult you with the offer.

Mrs. C Foolish boy, before to-morrow night we shall be beggars—outcasts from this estate. Humiliation and poverty stand like specters at yonder door—to-morrow they will be realities. Can you tear out the tongues that will wag over our fallen fortunes? You are a child, you can not see beyond your happiness.

Hard Oh, mother, mother! what can be done? My marriage with Anne is impossible.

Danny [R. C.] Whisht, if ye plaze—ye’re talkin’ so loud she’ll hear ye say that—she’s comin’.

Mrs. C Has this fellow overheard us?

Hard If he has, he is mine, body and soul. I’d rather trust him with a secret than keep it myself.

Mrs. C [L. C.] I can not remain to see Anne; excuse me to my friends. The night perhaps will bring counsel, or at least resolution to hear the worst! Good night, my son.

Danny [R. C.] Oh, masther! she doesn’t know the worst! She doesn’t know that you are married to the Colleen Bawn.

Hard Hush! what fiend prompts you to thrust that act of folly in my face?

Danny Thrue for ye, masther! I’m a dirty mane scut to remind ye of it.

Hard What will my haughty, noble mother say, when she learns the truth! how can I ask her to receive Eily as a daughter?—Eily, with her awkward manners, her Kerry brogue, her ignorance of the usages of society. Oh, what have I done?

Danny Oh! vo—vo, has the ould family come to this! Is it the daughter of Mihil-na-Thradrucha, the old rope-maker of Garryowen, that ’ud take the flure as your wife?

Hard Be silent, scoundrel! How dare you speak thus of my love!—wretch that I am to blame her!—poor, beautiful, angel-hearted Eily.

Danny Beautiful is it! Och—wurra—wurra, deelish! The looking-glass was never made that could do her justice; and if St. Patrick wanted a wife, where would he find an angel that ’ud compare with the Colleen Bawn. As I row her on the lake, the little fishes come up to look at her; and the wind from heaven lifts up her hair to see what the divil brings her down here at all—at all.

Hard The fault is mine—mine alone—I alone will suffer!

Danny Why isn’t it mine? Why can’t I suffer for yez, masther dear? Wouldn’t I swally every tear in your body, every bit of bad luck in your life, and then wid a stone round my neck, sink myself and your sorrows in the bottom of the lower lake.

Hard [Placing hand on Danny.] Good Danny, away with you to the boat—be ready in a few moments; we will cross to Muckross Head. [Looks at light at back.

Danny Never fear, sir. Oh! it isn’t that spalpeen, Corrigan, that shall bring ruin on that ould place. Lave Danny alone. Danny, the fox, will lade yez round and about, and cross the scint. [Takes off his hat—sees letter.] Bedad, here’s the letter from the Colleen Bawn that I couldn’t find a while ago—it’s little use now. [Goes to lower window, and reads by light from house.] “Come to your own Eily, that has not seen you for two long days. Come, acushla agrah machree. I have forgotten how much you love me—Shule, shule agrah.—Colleen Bawn.” Divil an address is on it.

Anne [C.] Have they gone?

Kyrle [L. C.] It is nearly midnight.

Anne Before we go in, I insist on knowing who is this girl that possesses your heart. You confess that you are in love—deeply in love.

Kyrle I do confess it—but not even your power can extract that secret from me—do not ask me, for I could not be false, yet dare not be true. [Exit Kyrle into house, L.

Anne [L. C.] He loves me—oh! he loves me—the little bird is making a nest in my heart. Oh! I’m faint with joy.

Danny [As if calling after him.] Sir, sir!

Anne Who is that?

Danny I’m the boatman below, an’ I’m waitin for the gintleman.

Anne What gentleman?

Danny Him that’s jist left me, ma’am—I’m waitin’ on him.

Anne Does Mr. Kyrle Daly go out boating at this hour?

Danny It’s not for me to say, ma’am, but every night at twelve o’clock I’m here wid my boat under the blue rock below, to put him across the lake to Muckross Head. I beg your pardon, ma’am, but here’s a paper ye dropped on the walk beyant—if it’s no vally I’d like to light my pipe wid it. [Gives it.

Anne A paper I dropped! [Goes to window—reads.

Danny [Aside.] Oh, Misther Corrigan, you’ll ruin masther will ye? aisy now, and see how I’ll put the cross on ye.

Anne A love-letter from some peasant girl to Kyrle Daly! Can this be the love of which he spoke? have I deceived myself?

Danny I must be off, ma’am; here comes the signal. [Music.

Anne The signal?

Danny D’ye see yonder light upon Muckross Head? It is in a cottage windy; that light goes in and out three times winkin’ that way, as much as to say, “Are ye comin’?” Then if the light in that room there [points at house above,] answers by a wink, it manes No! but if it goes out entirely, his honor jumps from the parlor windy into the garden behind, and we’re off. Look! [Light in cottage disappears.] That’s one. [Light appears.] Now again. [Light disappears.] That’s two. [Light appears.] What did I tell you? [Light disappears.] That’s three, and here it comes again. [Light appears.] Wait now, and ye’ll see the answer. [Light disappears from window, L.] That’s my gentleman. [Music change.] You see he’s goin’—good night, ma’am.

Anne Stay, here’s money; do not tell Mr. Daly that I know of this.

Danny Divil a word—long life t’ye. [Goes up.

Anne I was not deceived; he meant me to understand that he loved me! Hark! I hear the sound of some one who leaped heavily on the garden walk. [Goes to house L.—looking at back.

Danny [Going down, R. C.] All right, yer honor.

Anne [Hiding, L.] It is he, ’tis he.

Corrig From the rock above I saw the boat leave Torc Cregan. It is now crossing the lake to the cottage. Who is this girl? What is this mysterious misthress of young Cregan?—that I’ll find out.

Corrig Who’s that?—’Tis that poaching scoundrel—that horse stealer, Myles na Coppaleen. Here he comes with a keg of illicit whisky, as bould as Nebuckadezzar.

Is that you, Myles?

Myles No! it’s my brother.

Corrig I know ye, my man.

Myles Then why the divil did ye ax?

Corrig You may as well answer me kindly—civility costs nothing.

Myles [L. C.] Ow now! don’t it? Civility to a lawyer manes six-and-eight-pence about.

Corrig [R. C.] What’s that on your shoulder?

Myles What’s that to you?

Corrig I am a magistrate, and can oblige you to answer.

Myles Well! it’s a boulster, belongin’ to my mother’s feather bed.

Corrig Stuff’d with whisky!

Myles Bedad! how would I know what it’s stuff’d wid? I’m not an upholsterer.

Corrig Come, Myles, I’m not so bad a fellow as ye may think.

Myles To think of that now!

Corrig I am not the mane creature you imagine!

Myles Ain’t ye now, sir? You keep up appearances mighty well, indeed.

Corrig No, Myles! I am not that blackguard I’ve been represented.

Myles [Sits on keg.] See that now—how people take away a man’s character. You are another sort of blackguard entirely.

Corrig You shall find me a gentleman—liberal, ready to protect you.

Myles Long life t’ye sir.

Corrig Myles, you have come down in the world lately; a year ago you were a thriving horse-dealer, now you are a lazy, ragged fellow.

Myles Ah, it’s the bad luck, sir, that’s in it.

Corrig No, it’s the love of Eily O’Connor that’s in it—it’s the pride of Garryowen that took your heart away, and made ye what ye are—a smuggler and a poacher.

Myles Thim’s hard words.

Corrig But they are true. You live like a wild beast in some cave or hole in the rocks above; by night your gun is heard shootin’ the otter as they lie out on the stones, or you snare the salmon in your nets; on a cloudy night your whisky-still is going—you see, I know your life.

Myles Better than the priest, and devil a lie in it.

Corrig Now, if I put ye in a snug farm—stock ye with pigs and cattle, and rowl you up comfortable—d’ye think the Colleen Bawn wouldn’t jump at ye?

Myles Bedad, she’d make a lape, I b’lieve—and what would I do for all this luck?

Corrig Find out for me who it is that lives at the cottage on Muckross Head.

Myles That’s aisy—it’s Danny Mann—no less and his ould mother Sheelah.

Corrig Yes, Myles, but there’s another—a girl who is hid there.

Myles Ah, now!

Corrig She only goes out at night.

Myles Like the owls.

Corrig She’s the misthress of Hardress Cregan.

Myles [Seizing Corrigan.] Thurra mon dhiol, what’s that?

Corrig Oh, lor! Myles—Myles—what’s the matter—are you mad?

Myles No—that is—why—why did ye raise your hand at me in that way?

Corrig I didn’t.

Myles I thought ye did—I’m mighty quick at takin’ thim hints, bein’ on me keepin’ agin the gaugers—go on—I didn’t hurt ye.

Corrig Not much.

Myles You want to find out who this girl is?

Corrig I’ll give £20 for the information—there’s ten on account.

Myles Long life t’ye; that’s the first money I iver got from a lawyer, and bad luck to me, but there’s a cure for the evil eye in thim pieces.

Corrig You will watch to-night?

Myles In five minutes I’ll be inside the cottage itself.

Corrig That’s the lad.

Myles [Aside.] I was goin’ there.

Corrig And to-morrow you will step down to my office with the particulars?

Myles To-morrow you shall breakfast on them.

Corrig Good night, entirely. [Exit Corrigan, L.

Myles I’ll give ye a cowstail to swally, and make ye think it’s a chapter in St. Patrick, ye spalpeen? When he called Eily the misthress of Hardress Cregan, I nearly sthretched him—begorra, I was full of sudden death that minute! Oh, Eily! acushla agrah asthore machree! as the stars watch over Innisfallen, and as the wathers go round it and keep it, so I watch and keep round you, avourneen!

I must reach the cottage before the masther arrives; Father Tom is there waitin’ for this keg o’ starlight—it’s my tithe; I call every tenth keg “his riverince.” It’s worth money to see the way it does the old man good, and brings the wather in his eyes, the only place I ever see any about him—heaven bless him!

Father Tom [Sings.] “Tobacco is an Injun weed.” And every weed want’s wathering to make it come up; but tobacco bein’ an’ Injun weed that is accustomed to a hot climate, water is entirely too cold for its warrum nature—it’s whisky and water it wants. I wonder if Myles has come; I’ll ask Eily. [Calls.] Eily, alanna! Eily, a suilish machree!

Eily [Turning.] Is it me, Father Tom?

Father T Has he come?

Eily No; his boat is half a mile off yet.

Father T Half a mile! I’ll choke before he’s here.

Eily Do you mean Hardress?

Father T No, dear! Myles na Coppaleen—cum spiritu Hiberneuse—which manes in Irish, wid a keg of poteen.

Myles Here I am, your riverince, never fear. I tould Sheelah to hurry up with the materials, knowin’ ye be dhry and hasty.

Sheelah Here’s the hot water.

Myles Lave it there till I brew Father Tom a pint of mother’s milk.

Sheelah Well thin, ye’ll do your share of the work, an not a ha’porth more.

Myles Didn’t I bring the sperrits from two miles and more? and I deserve to have pref’rence to make the punch for his riverince.

Sheelah And didn’t I watch the kettle all night, not to let it off the boil?—there now.

Myles [Quarreling with Sheelah.] No, you didn’t, etc.

Sheelah [Quarreling.] Yes, I did, etc.

Eily No, no; I’ll make it, and nobody else.

Father T Aisy now, ye becauns, and whist; Myles shall put in the whisky, Sheelah shall put in the hot water, and Eily, my Colleen, shall put the sugar in the cruiskeen. A blessin’ on ye all three that loves the ould man. [Myles takes off hat—Women curtsey—they make punch.] See now, my children, there’s a moral in everthing, e’en in a jug of punch. There’s the sperrit, which is the sowl and strength of the man. [Myles pours spirit from keg.] That’s the whisky. There’s the sugar, which is the smile of woman; [Eily puts sugar.] without that life is without taste or sweetness. Then there’s the lemon, [Eily puts lemon.] which is love; a squeeze now and again does a boy no harm; but not too much. And the hot water [Sheelah pours water.] which is adversity—as little as possible if ye plaze—that makes the good things better still.

Myles And it’s complate, ye see, for it’s a woman that gets into hot wather all the while. [Pours from jug to jug.

Sheelah Myles, if I hadn’t the kettle, I’d bate ye.

Myles Then, why didn’t ye let me make the punch? There’s a guinea for your riverince that’s come t’ye—one in ten I got a while ago—it’s your tithe—put a hole in it, and hang it on your watch chain, for it’s a mighty great charm entirely.

Father T Eily, look at that boy, and tell me, haven’t ye a dale to answer for?

Eily He isn’t as bad about me as he used to be; he’s getting over it.

Myles Yes, darlin’, the storm has passed over, and I’ve got into settled bad weather.

Father T Maybe, afther all, ye’d have done better to have married Myles there, than be the wife of a man that’s ashamed to own ye.

Eily He isn’t—he’s proud of me. It’s only when I spake like the poor people, and say or do anything wrong, that he’s hurt; but I’m gettin’ clane of the brogue, and learnin’ to do nothing—I’m to be changed entirely.

Myles Oh! if he’d lave me yer own self, and only take away wid him his improvements. Oh! murder—Eily, aroon, why wasn’t ye twins, an’ I could have one of ye, only nature couldn’t make two like ye—it would be onreasonable to ax it.

Eily Poor Myles, do you love me still so much?

Myles Didn’t I lave the world to folley ye, and since then there’s been neither night nor day in my life—I lay down on Glenna Point above, where I see this cottage, and I lived on the sight of it. Oh! Eily, if tears were pison to the grass there wouldn’t be a green blade on Glenna Hill this day.

Eily But you knew I was married, Myles.

Myles Not thin, aroon—Father Tom found me that way, and sat beside, and lifted up my soul. Then I confessed to him, and, sez he, “Myles, go to Eily, she has something to say to you—say I sent you.” I came, and ye tould me ye were Hardress Cregan’s wife, and that was a great comfort entirely. Since I knew that [Drinks—voice in cup.] I haven’t been the blackguard I was.

Father T See the beauty of the priest, my darlin’—videte et admirate—see and admire it. It was at confession that Eily tould me she loved Cregan, and what did I do?—sez I, “Where did you meet your sweetheart?” “At Garryowen,” sez she. “Well,” says I; “that’s not the place.” “Thrue, your riverince, it’s too public entirely,” sez she. “Ye’ll mate him only in one place,” sez I; “and that’s the stile that’s behind my chapel,” for, d’ye see, her mother’s grave was forenint the spot, and there’s a sperrit round the place, [Myles drinks,] that kept her pure and strong. Myles, ye thafe, drink fair.

Sheelah Come now, Eily, couldn’t ye cheer up his riverince wid the tail of a song?

Eily Hardress bid me not sing any ould Irish songs, he says the words are vulgar.

Sheelah Father Tom will give ye absolution.

Father T Put your lips to that jug; there’s only the strippens left. Drink! and while that thrue Irish liquor warms your heart, take this wid it. May the brogue of ould Ireland niver forsake your tongue—may her music niver lave yer voice—and may a true Irishwoman’s virtue niver die in your heart!

Myles Come, Eily, it’s my liquor—haven’t ye a word to say for it?

Hard [Without, L. U. E.] Ho! Sheelah—Sheelah!

Sheelah [Rising.] Whist! it’s the master.

Eily [Frightened.] Hardress! oh, my! what will he say if he finds us here—run, Myles—quick, Sheelah—clear away the things.

Father T Hurry now, or we’ll get Eily in throuble.

Hard Sheelah, I say!

Sheelah Comin’, Sir, I’m puttin’ on my petticoat.

Eily [C.] Oh, Hardress, asthore?

Hard [L. C.] Don’t call me by those confounded Irish words—what’s the matter? you’re trembling like a bird caught in a trap.

Eily Am I, mavou—no I mean—is it tremblin’ I am, dear?

Hard What a dreadful smell of tobacco there is here, and the fumes of whisky punch, too; the place smells like a shebeen. Who has been here?

Eily There was Father Tom, an’ Myles dhropped in.

Hard Nice company for my wife—a vagabond.

Eily Ah! who made him so but me, dear? Before I saw you, Hardress, Myles coorted me, and I was kindly to the boy.

Hard Damn it, Eily, why will you remind me that my wife was ever in such a position?

Eily I won’t see him again—if yer angry, dear, I’ll tell him to go away, and he will, because the poor boy loves me.

Hard Yes, better than I do you mean?

Eily No, I don’t—oh! why do you spake so to your poor Eily!

Hard Spake so! Can’t you say speak?

Eily I’ll thry, aroon—I’m sthrivin’—’tis mighty hard, but what wouldn’t I undert-tee-ta—undergo for your sa-se—for your seek.

Hard Sake—sake!

Eily Sake—seek—oh, it is to bother people entirely they mixed ’em up! Why didn’t they make them all one way?

Hard [Aside.] It is impossible! How can I present her as my wife? Oh! what an act of madness to tie myself to one so much beneath me—beautiful—good as she is—

Eily Hardress, you are pale—what has happened?

Hard Nothing—that is, nothing but what you will rejoice at.

Eily What d’ye mane?

Hard What do I mane! Mean—mean!

Eily I beg your pardon, dear.

Hard Well; I mean that after to-morrow there will be no necessity to hide our marriage, for I shall be a beggar, my mother will be an outcast, and amidst all the shame, who will care what wife a Cregan takes?

Eily And d’ye think I’d like to see you dhragged down to my side—ye don’t know me—see now—never call me wife again—don’t let on to mortal that we’re married—I’ll go as a servant in your mother’s house—I’ll work for the smile ye’ll give me in passing, and I’ll be happy, if ye’ll only let me stand outside and hear your voice.

Hard You’re a fool. I told you that I was bethrothed to the richest heiress in Kerry; her fortune alone can save us from ruin. To-night my mother discovered my visits here, and I told her who you were.

Eily Oh! what did she say?

Hard It broke her heart.

Eily Hardress! is there no hope?

Hard None. That is none—that—that I can name.

Eily There is one—I see it.

Hard There is. We were children when we were married, and I could get no priest to join our hands but one, and he had been disgraced by his bishop. He is dead. There was no witness to the ceremony but Danny Mann—no proof but his word, and your certificate.

Eily [Takes paper from her breast.] This!

Hard Eily! if you doubt my eternal love, keep that security; it gives you the right to the shelter of my roof; but oh! if you would be content with the shelter of my heart.

Eily And will it save ye, Hardress? And will your mother forgive me?

Hard She will bless you—she will take you to her breast.

Eily But you—another will take you to her breast.

Hard Oh, Eily, darling, d’ye think I could forget you, machree—forget the sacrifice more than blood you give me?

Eily Oh! when you talk that way to me, ye might take my life, and heart, and all. Oh! Hardress, I love you—take the paper and tare it. [Hardress takes paper.

Myles No. I’ll be damned if he shall.

Hard Scoundrel! you have been listening?

Myles To every word. I saw Danny, wid his ear agin that dure, so as there was only one kay-hole, I adopted the windy. Eily, aroon, Mr. Cregan will giv’ ye back that paper; you can’t tare up an oath; will ye help him then to cheat this other girl, and to make her his mistress, for that’s what she’ll be if ye are his wife. An’ after all, what is there agin’ the crature? Only the money she’s got. Will you stop lovin’ him when his love belongs to another? No! I know it by myself; but if ye jine their hands together your love will be an adultry.

Eily Oh, no!

Hard Vagabond! outcast! jail bird! dare you prate of honor to me?

Myles [C.] I am an outlaw, Mr. Cregan—a felon, may be—but if you do this thing to that poor girl that loves you so much—had I my neck in the rope—or my fut on the deck of a convict ship—I’d turn round and say to ye, “Hardress Cregan, I make ye a present of the contimpt of a rogue.” [Snaps fingers.

Hard Be it so, Eily, farewell! until my house is clear of these vermin—[Danny appears at back]—you will see me no more.

Eily Hardress—Hardress! [Going up.] Don’t leave me, Hardress!

Father T [Intercepts her.] Stop, Eily! [Danny returns and listens.

Eily He’s gone—he’s gone!

Father T Give me that paper, Myles. [Myles picks it up—gives it.] Kneel down there, Eily, before me—put that paper in your breast.

Eily [Kneeling.] Oh, what will I do—what will I do?

Father T Put your hand upon it now.

Eily Oh, my heart—my heart!

Father T Be thee hush, and spake after me—by my mother that’s in heaven.

Eily By my mother that’s in heaven.

Father T By the light and the word.

Eily By the light and the word.

Father T Sleepin’ or wakin’.

Eily Sleepin’ or wakin’.

Father T This proof of my truth.

Eily This proof of my truth.

Father T Shall never again quit my breast.

Eily Shall never again quit my breast.

ACT II.

Hard [R.] Oh, what a giddy fool I’ve been! What would I give to recall this fatal act which bars my fortune?

Danny [L.] There’s something throublin’ yez, Masther Hardress. Can’t Danny do something to aise ye? Spake the word, and I’ll die for ye.

Hard Danny, I am troubled. I was a fool when I refused to listen to you at the chapel of Castle Island.

Danny When I warned ye to have no call to Eily O’Connor?

Hard I was mad to marry her.

Danny I knew she was no wife for you. A poor thing widout any manners, or money, or book larnin’, or a ha’porth o’ fortin’. Oh, worra! I told ye that, but ye bate me off, and here now is the way of it.

Hard Well, it’s done, and can’t be undone.

Danny Bedad, I dun know that. Wouldn’t she untie the knot herself—couldn’t ye coax her?

Hard No.

Danny Is that her love for you? You that give up the divil an’ all for her. What’s her ruin to yours? Ruin—goredoutha—ruin is it? Don’t I pluck a shamrock and wear it a day for the glory of St. Patrick, and then throw it away when it’s gone by my likin’s. What is she to be ruined by a gentleman? Whoo! Mighty good for the likes o’ her.

Hard She would have yielded, but—

Danny Asy now, an’ I’ll tell ye. Pay her passage out to Quaybeck and put her aboord a three-master, widout sayin’ a word. Lave it to me. Danny will clear the road foreninst ye.

Hard Fool, if she still possesses that certificate—the proof of my first marriage—how can I dare to wed another? Commit bigamy—disgrace my wife—bastardize my children?

Danny Den by the powers, I’d do by Eily as wid the glove there on yer hand; make it come off as it came on—an’ if it fits too tight, take the knife to it.

Hard [Turning to him.] What do you mean?

Danny Only gi’ me the word, an’ I’ll engage that the Colleen Bawn will never trouble ye any more; don’t ax me any questions at all. Only—if you’re agreeable, take off that glove from yer hand an’ give it to me for a token—that’s enough.

Hard [Throws off cloak; seizes him; throws him down.] Villain! Dare you utter a word or meditate a thought of violence towards that girl—

Danny Oh, murder! may I never die in sin, if—

Hard Begone! away, at once, and quit my sight. I have chosen my doom! I must learn to endure it—but blood!—and hers! Shall I make cold and still that heart that beats alone for me?—quench those eyes that look so tenderly in mine? Monster! am I so vile that you dare to whisper such a thought?

Danny Oh, masther! divil burn me if I meant any harm.

Hard Mark me well, now. Respect my wife as you would the queen of the land—whisper a word such as those you uttered to me, and it will be your last. I warn ye—remember and obey.

Danny [Rises—picks up cloak.] Oh, the darlin’ crature! would I harrum a hair of her blessed head?—no! Not unless you gave me that glove, and den I’d jump into the bottomless pit for ye.

Anne That fellow runs in my head. [Looking at window.] There he is in the garden, smoking like a chimney-pot. [Calls.] Mr. Daly!

Kyrle [Outside window.] Good morning!

Anne [Aside.] To think he’d smile that way, after going Leandering all night like a dissipated young owl. [Aloud.] Did you sleep well? [Aside.] Not a wink, you villain, and you know it.

Kyrle I slept like a top.

Anne [Aside.] I’d like to have the whipping of ye. [Aloud.] When did you get back?

Kyrle Get back! I’ve not been out.

Anne [Aside.] He’s not been out! This is what men come to after a cruise at sea—they get sunburnt with love. Those foreign donnas teach them to make fire-places of their hearts, and chimney-pots of their mouths. [Aloud.] What are you doing down there? [Aside.] As if he was stretched out to dry. [Kyrle puts down pipe outside.

Kyrle [R. C.] I have been watching Hardress coming over from Divil’s Island in his boat—the wind was dead against him.

Anne [L. C.] It was fair for going to Divil’s Island last night, I believe.

Kyrle Was it?

Anne You were up late, I think?

Kyrle I was. I watched by my window for hours, thinking of her I loved—slumber overtook me, and I dreamed of a happiness I never can hope for.

Anne Look me straight in the face.

Kyrle Oh! if some fairy could strike us into stone now—and leave us looking forever into each other’s faces, like the blue lake below and the sky above it!

Anne Kyrle Daly! What would you say to a man who had two loves, one to whom he escaped at night, and the other to whom he devoted himself during the day—what would you say?

Kyrle I’d say he had no chance.

Anne Oh, Captain Cautious! Well answered. Isn’t he fit to take care of anybody! his cradle was cut out of a witness-box.

Kyrle [R.] Anne! I don’t know what you mean, but that I know that I love you, and you are sporting with a wretchedness you can not console. I was wrong to remain here so long, but I thought my friendship for Hardress would protect me against your invasion—now I will go. [Hardress advancing.

Hard [C.] No, Kyrle, you will stay. Anne, he loves you, and I more than suspect you prefer him to me. From this moment you are free; I release you from all troth to me: in his presence I do this.

Anne [L.] Hardress!

Hard There is a bar between us which you should have known before, but I could not bring myself to confess. Forgive me, Anne—you deserve a better man than I am. [Exit, L.

Anne A bar between us! What does he mean?

Kyrle He means that he is on the verge of ruin: he did not know how bad things were till last night. His generous noble heart recoils from receiving anything from you but love.

Anne And does he think I’d let him be ruined any way? Does he think I wouldn’t sell the last rood of land—the gown off my back, and the hair off my head, before that boy that protected and loved me, the child, years ago, should come to a hap’orth of harrum?

Kyrle Miss Chute!

Anne Well, I can’t help it. When I am angry the brogue comes out, and my Irish heart will burst through manners, and graces, and twenty stay-laces. [Crosses to L.] I’ll give up my fortune—that I will!

Kyrle You can’t—you’ve got a guardian who can not consent to such a sacrifice.

Anne Have I? then I’ll find a husband that will.

Kyrle [Aside.] She means me—I see it in her eyes.

Anne [Aside.] He’s trying to look unconscious. [Aloud.] Kyrle Daly, on your honor and word as a gentleman, do you love me and nobody else?

Kyrle Do you think me capable of contaminating your image by admitting a meaner passion into my breast?

Anne Yes, I do.

Kyrle Then you wrong me.

Anne I’ll prove that in one word. Take care, now; it’s coming.

Kyrle Go on.

Anne [Aside.] Now I’ll astonish him. [Aloud.] Eily!

Kyrle What’s that?

Anne “Shule, shule, agrah!”

Kyrle Where to?

Anne Three winks, as much as to say, “Are you coming?” and an extinguisher above here means “Yes.” Now you see I know all about it.

Kyrle You have the advantage of me.

Anne Confess now, and I’ll forgive you.

Kyrle I will; tell me what to confess, and I’ll confess it—I don’t care what it is.

Anne [Aside.] If I hadn’t eye proof he’d brazen it out of me. Isn’t he cunning? He’s one of those that would get fat where a fox would starve.

Kyrle That was a little excursion into my past life—a sudden descent on my antecedents, to see if you could not surprise an infidelity—but I defy you.

Anne You do? I accept that defiance; and, mind me, Kyrle, if I find you true as I once thought, there’s my hand; but if you are false in this, Anne Chute will never change her name for yours. [He kisses her hand.] Leave me now.

Kyrle Oh, the lightness you have given to my heart! The number of pipes I’ll smoke this afternoon will make them think we’ve got a haystack on fire. [Exit Kyrle, through window, R.

Anne [Rings bell on table, R.] Here, Pat, Barney, some one.

Tell Larry Dolan, my groom, to saddle the black mare, Fireball, but not bring her round the house—I’ll mount in the stables.

I’ll ride over to Muckross Head, and draw that cottage; I’ll know what’s there. It mayn’t be right, but I haven’t a big brother to see after me—and self-protection is the first law of nature.

Mrs. C [R. C.] What do you say, Hardress?

Hard [L. C.] I say, mother, that my heart and faith are both already pledged to another, and I can not break my engagement.

Mrs. C And this is the end of all our pride!

Hard Repining is useless—thought and contrivance are of no avail—the die is cast.

Mrs. C Hardress, I speak not for myself, but for you—and I would rather see you in your coffin than married to this poor, lowborn, silly, vulgar creature. I know you, my son; you will be miserable when the infatuation of first love is past; when you turn from her and face the world, as one day you must do, you will blush to say, “This is my wife.” Every word from her mouth will be a pang to your pride. You will follow her movements with terror—the contempt and derision she excites will rouse you first to remorse, and then to hatred—and from the bed to which you go with a blessing, you will rise with a curse.

Hard Mother! mother! [Throws himself in chair.

Mrs. C To Anne you have acted a heartless and dishonorable part—her name is already coupled with yours at every fireside in Kerry.

Serv Mr. Corrigan, ma’am.

Mrs. C He comes for his answer. Show him in.

The hour has come, Hardress—what answer shall I give him?

Hard Refuse him—let him do his worst.

Mrs. C And face beggary! On what shall we live? I tell you the prison for debt is open before us. Can you work? No! Will you enlist as a soldier, and send your wife into service? We are ruined—d’ye hear?—ruined! I must accept this man only to give you and yours a shelter, and under Corrigan’s roof I may not be ashamed, perhaps, to receive your wife.

Corrig [L.] Good morning, ma’am; I am punctual, you perceive.

Mrs. C [C.] We have considered your offer, sir, and we see no alternative—but—but—

Corrig Mrs. Cregan, I’m proud, ma’am, to take your hand.

Hard [Starting up.] Begone—begone, I say; touch her, and I’ll brain you!

Corrig Squire! Sir! Mr. Hardress!

Hard Must I hurl you from the house?

Mrs. C Hardress, my darling boy, restrain yourself.

Corrig Good morning, ma’am. I have my answer. [To Servant.] Is Miss Chute within?

Serv No, sir; she’s just galloped out of the stable yard.

Corrig Say I called to see her. I will wait upon her at this hour to-morrow. [Looking at the Cregans.] To-morrow! to-morrow!

Mrs. C To-morrow will see us in Limerick Jail, and this house in the hands of the sheriff.

Hard Mother, heaven guide and defend me! let me rest for a while—you don’t know all yet, and I have not the heart to tell you.

Mrs. C With you, Hardress, I can bear anything—anything—but your humiliation and your unhappiness—

Hard I know it, mother, I know it. [Exit, L. 1 E. Music.

Danny Whisht—missiz—whisht.

Mrs. C [L. C.] Who’s there?

Danny It’s me, sure, Danny—that is—I know the throuble that’s in it. I’ve been through it all wid him.

Mrs. C You know, then?

Danny Everything, ma’am; and, sure, I shtruv hard and long to impache him from doing it.

Mrs. C Is he, indeed, so involved with this girl that he will not give her up?

Danny No; he’s got over the worst of it, but she holds him tight, and he feels kindly and soft-hearted for her, and daren’t do what another would.

Mrs. C Dare not?

Danny Sure she might be packed off across the wather to Ameriky, or them parts beyant? Who’d ever ax a word afther her?—barrin’ the masther, who’d murdher me if he knew I whispered such a thing.

Mrs. C But would she go?

Danny Ow, ma’am, wid a taste of persuasion, we’d mulvather her aboord. But there’s another way again, and if ye’d only coax the masther to send me his glove, he’d know the manin’ of that token, and so would I.

Mrs. C His glove?

Danny Sorra a ha’porth else. If he’ll do that, I’ll take my oath ye’ll hear no more of the Colleen Bawn.

Mrs. C I’ll see my son. [Exit L. D. F.

Danny Tare an’ ’ouns, that lively girl, Miss Chute, has gone the road to Muckross Head; I’ve watched her—I’ve got my eye on all of them. If she sees Eily—ow, ow, she’ll get the ring itself in that helpin’ maybe, of kale-canon. By the piper, I’ll run across the lake, and get there first; she’s got a long round to go, and the wind rising—a purty blast entirely.

Mrs. C [Aside.] I found his gloves in the hall, where he had thrown them in his hat.

Danny Did ye ax him, ma’am?

Mrs. C I did—and here is the reply. [Holds out glove.

Danny He has changed his mind, then?

Mrs. C He has entirely.

Danny And—and—I am—to—do it?

Mrs. C That is the token.

Danny I know it—I’ll keep my promise. I’m to make away with her?

Mrs. C Yes, yes—take her away—away with her!

Danny Never fear, ma’am. [Going to window.] He shall never see or hear again of the Colleen Bawn.

Sheelah [R.] Don’t cry, darlin’—don’t, alanna!

Eily [L.] He’ll never come back to me—I’ll never see him again, Sheelah!

Sheelah Is it lave his own wife?

Eily I’ve sent him a letther by Myles, and Myles has never come back—I’ve got no answer—he won’t spake to me—I am standin’ betune him and fortune—I’m in the way of his happiness. I wish I was dead!

Sheelah Whisht! be thee husht! what talk is that? when I’m tuk sad that way, I go down to the chapel and pray a turn—it lifts the cloud off my heart.

Eily I can’t pray; I’ve tried, but unless I pray for him, I can’t bring my mind to it.

Sheelah I never saw a colleen that loved as you love; sorra come to me, but I b’lieve you’ve got enough to supply all Munster, and more left over than would choke ye if you wern’t azed of it.

Eily He’ll come back—I’m sure he will; I was wicked to doubt. Oh! Sheelah! what becomes of the girls he doesn’t love? Is there anything goin’ on in the world where he isn’t?

Sheelah There now—you’re smilin’ again.

Eily I’m like the first mornin’ when he met me—there was dew on the young day’s eye—a smile on the lips o’ the lake. Hardress will come back—oh! yes; he’ll never leave his poor Eily all alone by herself in this place. Whisht, now, an’ I’ll tell you. [Music.

Sheelah Ah, the birds sit still on the boughs to listen to her, and the trees stop whisperin’; she leaves a mighty big silence behind her voice, that nothin’ in nature wants to break. My blessin’ on the path before her—there’s an angel at the other end of it.

Eily [Repeats last line of song.]

Anne There she is.

Eily [Sings till facing Anne—stops—they examine each other.]

Anne My name is Anne Chute.

Eily I am Eily O’Connor.

Anne You are the Colleen Bawn—the pretty girl.

Eily And you are the Colleen Ruaidh.

Anne [Aside.] She is beautiful.

Eily [Aside.] How lovely she is.

Anne We are rivals.

Eily I am sorry for it.

Anne So am I, for I feel that I could have loved you.

Eily That’s always the way of it; everybody wants to love me, but there’s something spoils them off.

Anne [Showing letter.] Do you know that writing?

Eily I do, ma’am, well, though I don’t know how you came by it.

Anne I saw your signals last night—I saw his departure, and I have come here to convince myself of his falsehood to me. But now that I have seen you, you have no longer a rival in his love, for I despise him with all my heart, who could bring one so beautiful and simple as you are to ruin and shame!

Eily He didn’t—no—I am his wife! Oh, what have I said!

Anne What?

Eily Oh, I didn’t mane to confess it—no, I didn’t! but you wrung it from me in defense of him.

Anne You his wife?

Danny [At back—aside.] The divil! they’re at it—an’ I’m too late!

Anne I can not believe this—show me your certificate.

Eily Here it is.

Danny [Advances between them.] Didn’t you swear to the priest that it should niver lave your breast?

Anne Oh! you’re the boatman.

Danny Iss, ma’am!

Anne Eily, forgive me for doubting your goodness, and your purity. I believe you. Let me take your hand. [Crosses to her.] While the heart of Anne Chute beats, you have a friend that won’t be spoiled off, but you have no longer a rival, mind that. All I ask of you is that you will never mention this visit to Mr. Daly—and for you [To Danny.] this will purchase your silence. [Gives money.] Good-by!

Danny Long life t’ye. [Aside.] What does it mane? Hasn’t she found me out?

Eily Why did she ask me never to spake to Mr. Daly of her visit here? Sure I don’t know any Mr. Daly.

Danny Didn’t she spake of him before, dear?

Eily Never!

Danny Nor didn’t she name Master Hardress?

Eily Well, I don’t know; she spoke of him and of the letter I wrote to him, but I b’lieve she never named him intirely.

Danny [Aside.] The divil’s in it for sport; she’s got ’em mixed yet.

Sheelah What brings you back, Danny?

Danny Nothing! but a word I have from the masther for the Colleen here.

Eily Is it the answer to the letter I sent by Myles?

Danny That’s it, jewel, he sent me wid a message.

Sheelah [C.] Somethin’ bad has happened. Danny, you are as pale as milk, and your eye is full of blood—yez been drinkin’.

Danny May be I have.

Sheelah You thrimble, and can’t spake straight to me. Oh! Danny, what is it, avick?

Danny Go on now, an’ stop yer keenin’.

Eily Faith, it isn’t yourself that’s in it, Danny; sure there’s nothing happened to Hardress?

Danny Divil a word, good or bad, I’ll say while the mother’s there.

Sheelah I’m goin’. [Aside.] What’s come to Danny this day, at all, at all; bedad, I don’t know my own flesh and blood.

Danny Sorro’ and ruin has come on the Cregans; they’re broke intirely.

Eily Oh, Danny.

Danny Whisht, now! You are to meet Masther Hardress this evenin’, at a place on the Divil’s Island, beyant. Ye’ll niver breathe a word to a mortal where yer goin’, d’ye mind, now; but slip down, unbeknown, to the landin’ below, where I’ll have the boat waitin’ for yez.

Eily At what hour?

Danny Just after dark; there’s no moon to-night, an’ no one will see us crossin’ the water. [Music till end of scene.

Eily I will be there; I’ll go down only to the little chapel by the shore, and pray there ’till ye come. [Exit Eily, into cottage, R.

Danny I’m wake and cowld! What’s this come over me? Mother, mother, acushla.

Sheelah What is it, Danny?

Danny [Staggering to table.] Give me a glass of spirits!

Anne Married! the wretch is married! and with that crime already on his conscience he was ready for another and similar piece of villainy. It’s the Navy that does it. It’s my belief those sailors have a wife in every place they stop at.

Myles [Sings outside, R.]

Anne Here’s a gentleman who has got my complaint—his love is all crost, like a bud in the frost.

Anne My good friend, since you can’t catch your love, d’ye think you could catch my horse? [Distant thunder.

Myles Is it a black mare wid a white stockin on the fore off leg?

Anne I dismounted to unhook a gate—a peal of thunder frightened her, and she broke away.

Myles She’s at Torc Cregan stables by this time—it was an admiration to watch her stride across the Phil Dolan’s bit of plough.

Anne And how am I to get home?

Myles If I had four legs, I wouldn’t ax betther than to carry ye, and a proud baste I’d be. [Thunder—rain.

Anne The storm is coming down to the mountain—is there no shelter near?

Myles There may be a corner in this ould chapel. [Rain.] Here comes the rain—murdher! ye’ll be wet through.
[Music—pulls off coat.] Put this round yez.

Anne What will you do? You’ll catch your death of cold.

Myles [Taking out bottle.] Cowld is it? Here’s a wardrobe of top coats. [Thunder.] Whoo! this is a fine time for the water—this way, ma’am.

Eily Here’s the place where Danny was to meet me with the boat. Oh! here he is.

How pale you are!

Danny The thunder makes me sick.

Eily Shall we not wait till the storm is over?

Danny If it comes on bad we can put into the Divil’s Island Cave.

Eily I feel so happy that I am going to see him, yet there is a weight about my heart that I can’t account for.

Danny I can. [Aside.] Are you ready now?

Eily Yes; come—come.

Danny [Staggering.] I’m wake yet. My throat is dry—if I’d a draught of whisky now.

Eily Sheelah gave you a bottle.

Danny I forgot—it’s in the boat. [Rain.

Eily Here comes the rain—we shall get wet.

Danny There’s the masther’s boat cloak below.

Eily Come, Danny, lean on me. I’m afraid you are not sober enough to sail the skiff.

Danny Sober! The dhrunker I am, the better I can do the work I’ve got to do.

Eily Come, Danny, come—come.

Myles It was only a shower, I b’lieve—are ye wet, ma’am?

Anne Dry as a biscuit.

Myles Ah! then it’s yerself is the brave and beautiful lady—as bould an’ proud as a ship before the blast. [Anne looks off, R.

Anne Why, there is my mare, and who comes with—[Crosses to R.

Myles It’s Mr. Hardress Cregan himself.

Anne Hardress here?

Myles Eily gave me a letter for him this morning.

Hard Anne, what has happened? Your horse galloped wildly into the stable—we thought you had been thrown.

Myles Here is a lether Eily tould me to give him. [To Hardress.] I beg your pardon, sir, but here’s the taste of a lether I was axed to give your honor. [Gives letter.

Hard [Aside.] From Eily!

Anne Thanks, my good fellow, for your assistance.

Myles Not at all, ma’am. Sure, there isn’t a boy in the County Kerry that would not give two thumbs off his hands to do a service to the Colleen Ruaidh, as you are called among us—iss indeed, ma’am. [Going—aside.] Ah! then it’s the purty girl she is, in them long clothes. [Exit Myles, R.

Hard [Reads, aside.] “I am the cause of your ruin; I can’t live with that thought killin’ me. If I do not see you before night you will never again be throubled with your poor Eily.” Little simpleton! she is capable of doing herself an injury.

Anne Hardress! I have been very blind and very foolish, but today I have learned to know my own heart. There’s my hand; I wish to seal my fate at once. I know the delicacy which prompted you to release me from my engagement to you. I don’t accept that release; I am yours.

Hard Anne, you don’t know all.

Anne I know more than I wanted, that’s enough. I forbid you ever to speak on this subject.

Hard You don’t know my past life.

Anne And I don’t want to know. I’ve had enough of looking into past lives; don’t tell me anything you wish to forget.

Hard Oh, Anne—my dear cousin; if I could forget—if silence could be oblivion. [Exeunt Hardress and Anne, L.

[Locks door of cabin.] Now I’ll go down to my whisky-still. It is under my feet this minute, bein’ in a hole in the rocks they call O’Donoghue’s stables, a sort of water cave; the people around here think that the cave is haunted with bad spirits, and they say that of a dark stormy night strange unearthly noises is heard comin’ out of it—it is me singing, “The night before Larry was stretched.” Now I’ll go down to that cave, and wid a sod of live turf under a kettle of worty, I’ll invoke them sperrits—and what’s more, they’ll come.

Myles And this is a purty night for my work! The smoke of my whisky-still will not be seen; there’s my distillery beyant in a snug hole up there, [Unfastens rope, L.] and here’s my bridge to cross over to it. I think it would puzzle a gauger to folly me; this is a patent of my own—a tight-rope bridge. [Swings across from R. to L.] Now I tie up my drawbridge at this side till I want to go back—what’s that—it was an otter I woke from a nap he was takin’ on that bit of rock there—ow! ye divil! if I had my gun I’d give ye a leaden supper. I’ll go up and load it, may be I’ll get a shot; them stones is the place where they lie out of a night, and many a one I’ve shot of them.

Eily What place is this you have brought me to?

Danny Never fear—I know where I’m goin’—step out on that rock—mind yer footin’; ’tis wet there.

Eily I don’t like this place—it’s like a tomb.

Danny Step out, I say; the boat is laking.

Eily Why do you spake to me so rough and cruel?

Danny Eily, I have a word to say t’ye; listen now, and don’t trimble that way.

Eily I won’t, Danny—I won’t.

Danny Wonst, Eily, I was a fine brave boy, the pride of my ould mother, her white haired-darlin’—you wouldn’t think it to look at me now. D’ye know how I got changed to this?

Eily Yes, Hardress told me.

Danny He done it—but I loved him before it, an’ I loved him after it—not a dhrop of blood I have, but I’d pour out like wather for the masther.

Eily I know what you mean—as he has deformed your body—ruined your life—made ye what ye are.

Danny Have you, a woman, less love for him than I, that you wouldn’t give him what he wants of you, even if he broke your heart as he broke my back, both in a moment of passion? Did I ax him to ruin himself and his ould family, and all to mend my bones? No! I loved him, and I forgave him that.

Eily Danny, what do you want me to do?

Danny Give me that paper in your breast?

Eily I can’t—I’ve sworn never to part with it! You know I have!

Danny Eily, that paper stands between Hardress Cregan and his fortune; that paper is the ruin of him. Give it, I tell yez.

Eily Take me to the priest; let him lift the oath off me. Oh, Danny, I swore a blessed oath on my two knees, and would ye ax me to break that?

Danny [Seizes her hands.] Give it up, and don’t make me hurt ye.

Eily I swore by my mother’s grave, Danny. Oh! Danny dear, don’t. Don’t, acushla, and I’ll do anything. See now, what good would it be? sure, while I live I’m his wife. [Music changes.

Danny Then you’ve lived too long. Take your marriage lines wid ye to the bottom of the lake.

Eily No! save me! Don’t kill me! Don’t, Danny, I’ll do anything—only let me live.

Danny He wants ye dead. [Pushes her off.

Eily Oh, heaven! help me! Danny—Dan— [Sinks.

Danny [Looking down.] I’ve done it—she’s gone.

Myles I hit one of them bastes that time. I could see well, though it was so dark. But there was somethin’ moving on that stone. [Swings across to R. U. E.] Divil a sign of him. Stop! [Looks down.] What’s this? It’s a woman—there’s something white there. [Figure rises near rock, R. U. E.; kneels down; tries to take the hand of figure.] Ah! that dress!—it’s Eily. My own darlin’ Eily.

ACT III.

Beautiful Woman.

Lyon’s Kathairon. — Transcriber's Note