The Colleen Bawn, by Dion Boucicault—The Project Gutenberg eBook

BY DION BOUCICAULT, ESQ.,
AUTHOR OF
The Pope of Rome, The Young Actress, The Poor of New York, The Dublin Boy, Pauvrette, Life of an Actress, Jessie Brown, The Octoroon, Azael, Blue Belle, Dot. &c.

COSTUMES.—Period, 179—.

Hardress.—Green broad-skirted body coat of the time; double-breasted light silk waistcoat, leather pantaloons, top boots, hair rather long, steeple-crowned gold-laced hat, and white muslin cravat.

2nd Dress: Blue body coat, white waistcoat, white kerseymere breeches, silk stockings, and shoes.

Father Tom.—Broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, faded black suit, black riding boots, and white cravat.

Danny. [A hunchback.] Blue frieze jacket, corduroy breeches, yellow waistcoat, gray stockings, shoes and buckles, and old seal-skin cap.

Myles.—Drab great coat, with cape, red cloth waistcoat, old velveteen breeches, darned gray stockings, and shoes.

Mrs. Cregan.—Puce silk dress of the time, white muslin neckerchief and powdered hair. 2nd Dress: Handsome embroidered silk dress, jewels and fan.

Anne.—Gold-laced riding habit, hat and vail. 2nd Dress: White embroidered muslin dress, and colored sash.

Eily.—Blue merino petticoat, chintz tuck-up body and skirts, short sleeves, blue stockings, hair plain, with neat comb, red cloak, and hood.

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?

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

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.

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.] 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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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 an[6]other girl on hand, and betune the two he’ll come to the ground, and so bedad will I.

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 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 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!

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.

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’.

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!

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

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.

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[7] swallow?—ain’t you sthriven to sell him? But you didn’t feel the hardship of being sold till you tried it on yourself.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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’.

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 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.

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 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 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.

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 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 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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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?

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

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.

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.

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[12] 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!

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 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.

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.][13] 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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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!

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

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.

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 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.

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.

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—

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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

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.

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.

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—

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?

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!

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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[19] 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.

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.

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?

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 [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 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 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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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—

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

Danny Tare an’ ’ouns, that lively girl, Miss Chute, has gone the[22] 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 Never fear, ma’am. [Going to window.] He shall never see or hear again of the Colleen Bawn.

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

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?

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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 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[25] slip down, unbeknown, to the landin’ below, where I’ll have the boat waitin’ for yez.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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[27] you to release me from my engagement to you. I don’t accept that release; I am yours.

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

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.

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

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

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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

Danny [In his sleep.] Gi’ me the paper, thin—screeching won’t save ye—down—down! [Wakes.] Oh, mother! darlin’ mother!

Danny [Drinks, falls back, groans.] Oh, the fire in me won’t go out! How long have I been here?

Sheelah Iss, Danny. Ten days ago, that stormy night, ye crawled in at that dure, wake an’ like a ghost.

Sheelah Ye tould me that ye’d been poachin’ salmon, and had been shot by the keepers.

Sheelah Divil a one! Why did ye make me promise not to say a word about it? Didn’t ye refuse even to see a doctor itself?

Sheelah I told him I hadn’t seen ye, and here ye are this day groanin’ when there’s great doin’s up at Castle Chute. To-morrow the masther will be married to Miss Anne.

Danny Hide the candle from my eyes—it’s painin’ me; shade it off. Go on, mother.

Sheelah The poor Colleen! Oh, no, Danny, I knew she’d die of the love that was chokin’ her. He didn’t know how tindher she was when he gave her the hard word. What was that message the masther sent to her, that he wouldn’t let me hear? It was cruel, Danny, for it broke her heart entirely; she went away that night, and, two days after, a cloak was found floatin’ in the reeds, under Brikeen Bridge; nobody knew it but me. I turned away, and never said—. The creature is drowned, Danny, and woe to them as dhruv her to it. She has no father, no mother to put a curse on him, but the Father above that niver spakes till the last day, and then—[She turns and sees Danny gasping, his eyes fixed on her, supporting himself on his arm.] Danny! Danny! he’s dyin’—he’s dyin’!

Danny Who said that? Ye lie! I never killed her—sure he sent me the glove—where is it?

Danny The glove—he sent it to me full of blood. Oh, master, dear, there’s your token. I told ye I would clear the path foreninst ye.

Danny I’ll tell ye how I did it, masther; ’twas dis way—but don’t smile like dat—don’t, sir! She wouldn’t give me de marriage lines, so I sunk her and her proofs wid her. She’s gone! she came up wonst, but I put her down agin. Never fear—she’ll never throuble yer again—never—never!

Sheelah ’Twas he! he!—my own son—he’s murdered her, and he’s dyin’ now—dyin’, wid blood on his hands! Danny! Danny! spake to me!

Sheelah I’ll run for one that’ll cure ye. Oh, weerasthrue, Danny! Is it for this I’ve loved ye? No, forgive, acushla, it isn’t your own mother that ’ud add to yer heart-breakin’ and pain. I’ll fetch the docther, avick. [Music—puts on cloak, and pulls hood over her head.] Oh, hone! oh hone!

Corrig Sheelah! Sheelah! Nobody here? I’m bothered entirely. The cottage on Muckross Head is empty—not a sowl in it but a cat. Myles has disappeared, and Danny gone—vanished, bedad, like a fog—Sheelah is the only one remaining. I called to see Miss Chute; I was kicked out. I sent her a letter; it was returned to me, unopened. Her lawyer has paid off the mortgage, and taxed my bill of costs—the spalpeen! [Danny groans.] What’s that? Some one is asleep there. ’Tis Danny!

Corrig Danny here—concealed, too! Oh, there’s something going on that’s worth peepin’ into. Whist! there’s footsteps comin’. If I could hide a bit. I’m a magistrate, an’ I ought to know what’s goin’ on—here’s a turf-hole, wid a windy in it.

Sheelah [On her knees, R. of bed.] Oh, my darlin’! don’t be angry wid me, but dis is the docther you want; it isn’t in your body where the hurt is; the wound is in your poor sowl—there’s all the harrum.

Father T Danny, my son—[Sits L. of bed.]—it’s sore-hearted I am to see you down this way.

Father T Danny, the hand of death is on ye. Will ye lave your sins behind ye here below, or will ye take them with ye above, to show them on ye? Is there anything ye can do that’ll mend a wrong? leave that legacy to your friend, and he’ll do it. Do ye[31] want pardon of any one down here? tell me, avick; I’ll get it for ye and send it after you—may be ye’ll want it.

Danny He sent me the glove; that was to be the token that I was to put her away, and I did—I—in the Pool a Dhiol. She would not gi’ me the marriage lines; I threw her in and then I was kilt.

Father T [Rising, goes down—aside.] Myles na Coppaleen is at the bottom of this; his whisky-still is in that cave, and he has not been seen for ten days past. [Aloud—goes to Danny.] Danny, after ye fell, how did ye get home?

Danny I fell in the wather; the current carried me to a rock; how long I was there half drowned I don’t know, but on wakin’ I found my boat floatin’ close by, an’ it was still dark; I got in and crawled here.

Father T [Aside.] I’ll go and see Myles—there’s more in this than has come out.

Sheelah Won’t yer riverince say a word of comfort to the poor boy? He’s in great pain entirely.

Father T Keep him quiet, Sheelah. [Music.] I’ll be back again with the comfort for him. Danny, your time is short; make the most of it. [Aside.] I’m off to Myles na Coppaleen. Oh, Hardress Cregan—[Going up.]—ye little think what a bridal day ye’ll have!

Corrig [Who has been writing in note-book, comes out at back.] I’ve got down every word of the confession. Now, Hardress Cregan, there will be guests at your weddin’ to-night ye little dhrame of.

Danny [Rising up.] Mother, mother! the pain is on me. Wather—quick—wather!

Kyrle [R. C.] You sent for me, Mrs. Cregan. My ship sails from Liverpool to-morrow. I never thought I could be so anxious to quit my native land.

Mrs. C I want you to see Hardress. For ten days past he shuns the[32] society of his bride. By night he creeps out alone in his boat on the lake—by day he wanders round the neighborhood, pale as death. He is heart-broken.

Kyrle Did he forget that I left your house when Miss Chute, without a word of explanation, behaved so unkindly to me?

Mrs. C She is not the same girl since she accepted Hardress. She quarrels—weeps—complains, and has lost her spirits.

Anne Is that the vail and wreath I ordered? How dare you tell me that? [Throws it off, R.

Kyrle I hope you don’t think I intrude—that is—I came to see Mrs. Cregan.

Anne [Sharply.] I don’t flatter myself you wished to see me; why should you?

Kyrle Anne, I am sorry I offended you; I don’t know what I did, but no matter.

Anne Yes, and you released the neighborhood of the presence of somebody else—she and you disappeared together.

Kyrle But I do mind. I love Hardress Cregan as a brother, and I hope the time may come, Anne, when I can love you as a sister.

Kyrle I don’t want the dislike of my friend’s wife to part my friend and me.

Kyrle If you were my wife, and asked me to hate any one, I’d do it—I couldn’t help it.

Anne I believed words like that once when you spoke them, but I have been taught how basely you can deceive.

Anne Your wife—the girl you concealed in the cottage on Muckross Head. Stop, now—don’t speak—save a falsehood, however many ye may have to spare. I saw the girl—she confessed.

Anne Made a clean breast of it in a minute, which is more than you could do with a sixteen-foot wagon and a team of ten, in a week.

Anne You did not? [Shows Eily’s letter.] Do you know that? You dropped it, and I found it.

Kyrle Oh! [Suddenly struck with the truth; glances towards Anne; finding her looking away, places letter to Hardress.] Do you know that?—you dropped it.

Kyrle ’Twas he. [Looks from one to the other.] She thinks me guilty; but if I stir to exculpate myself, he is in for it.

Kyrle Nothing, Hardress. I was about to ask Miss Chute to forget a subject which was painful to her, and to beg of her never to mention it again—not even to you, Hardress.

Kyrle [Aside.] She loves me still, and he loves another, and I am the most miserable dog that ever was kicked. [Crosses to L.] Hardress, a word with you. [Exeunt Kyrle and Hardress, L.

Anne And this is my wedding day. There goes the only man I ever loved. When he’s here near by me, I could give him the worst treatment a man could desire, and when he goes away he takes the heart and all of me off with him, and I feel like an unfurnished house. This is pretty feelings for a girl to have, and she in her regimentals. Oh! if he wasn’t married—but he is, and he’d have married me as well—the malignant! Oh! if he had, how I’d have made him swing for it—it would have afforded me the happiest moment of my life. [Exit Anne, L. Music.

Father T Here’s Myle’s shanty. I’m nearly killed with climbin’ the hill. I wonder is he at home? Yes, the door is locked inside. [Knocks.] Myles—Myles, are ye at home?

Myles I always lock the dure inside and lave it there when I go out, for fear on losin’ it.

Father T Myles, come here to me. It’s lyin’ ye are. Look me in[34] the face. What’s come to ye these tin days past—three times I’ve been to your door and it was locked, but I heard ye stirrin’ inside.

Myles Below, where he’s gone to—where would he be, afther murthering a poor crature?

Myles Wait, an’ I’ll tell you. It was nigh twelve that night, I was comin’ home—I know the time, betoken Murty Dwyer made me step in his shebeen, bein’ the wake of the ould Callaghan, his wife’s uncle—and a dacent man he was. “Murty,” sez I—

Father T I see the lie in yer mouth. Who tould ye it was Danny Mann ye killed?

Myles I’m comin’ to it. While I was at Murty’s, yer riverince, as I was a-tellin’ you—Dan Dayley was there—he had just kim’d in. “Good morrow,—good day”—ses he. “Good morrow, good Dan, ses I,”—jest that ways entirely—“it’s an opening to the heart to see you.” Well, yer riverence, as I ware sayin’,—“long life an’ good wife to ye, Masther Dan,” ses I. “Thank ye, ses he, and the likes to ye, anyway.” The moment I speck them words, Dan got heart, an’ up an’ tould Murty about his love for Murty’s darter—the Colleen Rue. The moment he heard that, he puts elbows in himself, an’ stood lookin’ at him out on the flure. “You flog Europe, for boldness,” ses he—“get out of my sight,” ses he,—“this moment,” ses he,—“or I’ll give yer a kick that will rise you from poverty to the highest pitch of affluence,” ses he—“away out ’o that, you notorious delinquent; single your freedom, and double your distance,” ses he. Well, Dan was forced to cut an’ run. Poor boy! I was sorry for his trouble; there isn’t a better son nor brother this moment goin’ the road than what he is—said—said—there was’nt better, an’, an’—oh! Father Tom, don’t ax me; I’ve got an oath on my lips. [Music.] Don’t be hard on a poor boy.

Father T I lift the oath from ye. Tell me, avick, oh! tell me. Did ye search for the poor thing—the darlin’ soft-eyed Colleen? Oh, Myles! could ye lave her to lie in the cowld lake all alone?

Father T [Turns—sees Eily.] Eily! Is it yourself, and alive—an’ not—not—Oh! Eily, mavourneen. Come to my heart.

Myles [Crosses to L.] D’ye think ye’d see me alive if she wasn’t? I thought ye knew me better—it’s at the bottom of the Pool a Dhiol I’d be this minute if she wasn’t to the fore.

Eily Isn’t it his own? It isn’t his fault if his love couldn’t last as long as mine. I was a poor, mane creature—not up to him any way; but if he’d only said, “Eily, put the grave between us and make me happy,” sure I’d lain down, wid a big heart, in the loch.

Father T And you are willing to pass a life of seclusion that he may live in his guilty joy?

Eily If I was alive wouldn’t I be a shame to him an’ a ruin—ain’t I in his way? Heaven help me—why would I trouble him? Oh! he was in great pain o’ mind entirely when he let them put a hand on me—the poor darlin’.

Eily Dead an’ gone: then, perhaps, his love for me will come back, and the thought of his poor, foolish little Eily that worshiped the ground he stood on, will fill his heart a while.

Father T The villain—the monster! He sent her to heaven because he wanted her there to blot out with her tears the record of his iniquity. Eily, ye have but one home, and that’s my poor house. You are not alone in the world—there’s one beside ye, your father, and that’s myself.

Myles Two—bad luck to me, two. I am her mother; sure I brought her into the world a second time.

Father T [Looking, R.] Whisht! look down there, Myles—what’s that on the road?

Myles [Crosses R.] It’s the sogers—a company of red-coats. What brings the army out?—who’s that wid them?—it is ould Corrigan, and they are going towards Castle Chute. There’s mischief in the wind.

Father T In with you, an’ keep close a while; I’ll go down to the castle and see what’s the matter. [Crosses R.[36]

Eily Promise me that you’ll not betray me—that none but your self and Myles shall ever know I’m livin; promise me that before you go.

Father T I do, Eily; I’ll never breathe a word of it—it is as sacred as an oath. [Exit L.—music.

Eily [Going to cottage.] Shut me in, Myles, and take the key wid ye, this time. [Exit in cottage, R. C.

Myles [Locks door.] There ye are like a pearl in an oyster; now I’ll go to my bed as usual on the mountain above—the bolster is stuffed wid rocks, and I’ll have a cloud round me for a blanket.

Corrig Quietly, boys; sthrew yourselves round the wood—some of ye at the gate beyant—two more this way—watch the windies; if he’s there to escape at all, he’ll jump from a windy. The house is surrounded.

Oh, oh! they’re dancin’—dancin’ and merry-making, while the net is closin’ around ’em. Now Masther Hardress Cregan—I was kicked out, was I; but I’ll come this time wid a call that ye’ll answer wid your head instead of your foot. My letters were returned unopened; but here’s a bit of writin’ that ye’ll not be able to hand back so easy.

Sheelah [Crying.] What’s this? Why am I thrated this way—what have I done?

Corrig You are wanted a while—it’s your testimony we require. Bring her this way. Follow me! [Exit, L.

Sheelah [Struggling.] Let me go back to my boy. Ah! good luck t’ye, don’t kape me from my poor boy! [Struggling.] Oh! you dirty blackguards, let me go—let me go!

Hyland Ducie, they are dancing the Boulanger, and they can’t see the figure unless you lend them the light of your eyes.

O’Moore The execution is fixed for seven—here’s the scaffold, I presume. [Points to table.

Hyland Hardress looks like a criminal. I’ve seen him fight three duels, and he never showed such a pale face as he exhibits to-night.

Kyrle That need not stop your speech, Hyland. I don’t hide my love for Anne Chute, and it is my pride, and no fault of mine if she has found a better man.

Mrs. C Who says the days of chivalry are over? Come, gentlemen, the bridesmaids must attend the bride. The guests will assemble in the hall.

Serv Mr. Bertie O’Moore, if you plase. A gentlemen below asked me to hand you this card.

O’Moore A gentleman! what can he want? [Reads card.] Ah! indeed; this is a serious matter, and excuses the intrusion.

O’Moore The perpetrator of the deed has been discovered, and the warrant for his arrest requires my signature.

O’Moore [Crossing, R.] This is the result of some brawl at a fair, I suppose. Is Mr. Corrigan below?

Hardress [Sits, L.] It is in vain—I can not repress the terror with which I approach these nuptials—yet, what have I to fear? Oh! my heart is bursting with its load of misery.

Hard [Rising, L. C.] I will tell you—yes, it may take this horrible oppression from my heart. At one time I thought you knew my secret: I was mistaken. The girl you saw at Muckross Head—

Hard Hush! Maddened with the miseries this act brought upon me, I treated her with cruelty—she committed suicide.

Hard She wrote to me bidding me farewell forever, and the next day her cloak was found floating in the lake. [Anne sinks in chair.] Since then I have neither slept nor waked—I have but one thought, one feeling; my love for her, wild and maddened, has come back upon my heart like a vengeance.

Anne Mother, he is here. Look on him—speak to him—do not gasp and stare on your son in that horrid way. Oh, mother! speak, or you will break my heart.

Mrs. C Fly—fly! [Hardress going, R.] Not that way. No—the doors are defended! there is a soldier placed at every entrance! You—are trapped and caught—what shall we do?—the window in my chamber—come—come—quick—quick!

Mrs. C Hush! they come—begone! Your boat is below that window. Don’t speak! when oceans are between you and danger—write! Till then not a word. [Forcing him off, R. 3 E.—noise, R.

Mrs. C Go to your room! Go quickly to your room, you will betray him—you can’t command your features.

Mrs. C Away, I say—you will drive me frantic, girl. My brain is stretched to cracking! Ha! [Noise, R.

Mrs. C They come! You tremble! Go—take away your puny love; hide it where it will not injure him—leave me to face this danger!

Mrs. C What’s that to me, woman? I am his mother—the hunters are after my blood! Sit there—look away from this door. They come!

Corrig Gentlemen, put up your swords; the house is surrounded by a military force, and we are here in the king’s name.

Anne [R.] Gentlemen, come on, there was a time in Ireland when neither king nor faction could call on Castle Chute without a bloody welcome.

Kyrle [Interposing.] Anne, are you mad? Put up your swords—stand back there—speak—O’Moore, what does this strange outrage mean?

[39]O’Moore Mrs. Cregan, a fearful charge is made against your son; I know—I believe he is innocent; I suggest, then, that the matter be investigated here at once, amongst his friends, so that this scandal may be crushed in its birth.

Corrig Where?—why, he’s escaping while we are jabbering here. Search the house. [Exit two Soldiers, R. 3 E.

O’Moore [At L. table.] I hope Miss Chute will pardon me for my share in this transaction—believe me, I regret—

Anne Don’t talk to me of your regret, while you are doing your worst. It is hate, not justice, that brings this accusation against Hardress, and this disgrace upon me.

Anne Hold your tongue—his life’s in danger, and if I can’t love him, I’ll fight for him, and that’s more than any of you men can do. [To O’Moore.] Go on with your dirty work. You have done the worst now—you have dismayed our guests, scattered terror amid our festival, and made the remembrance of this night, which should have been a happy one, a thought of gloom and shame.

Mrs. C [C.] Ah, [Utters a cry.] is he? Dark bloodhound, have you found him? May the tongue that tells me so be withered from the roots, and the eye that first detected him be darkened in its socket!

Mrs. C What! shall it be for nothing he has stung the mother’s heart, and set her brain on fire?

I tell you that my tongue may hold its peace, but there is not a vein in all my frame but curses him. [Turns—sees Hardress; falls on his breast.] My boy! my boy!

Hard [L.] Mother, I entreat you to be calm. [Crosses to C.] Kyrle, there are my hands, do you think there is blood upon them?

Hard I thank you, gentlemen; your hands acquit me. Mother, be calm—sit there. [Points to chair, L.

Corrig [L. of table.] I will lay before you, sir, the deposition upon which the warrant issues against the prisoner. Here is the confession of Daniel or Danny Mann, a person in the service of the accused, taken on his death-bed—in articulo mortis, you’ll observe.

Corrig [Reads.] “The deponent being on his death-bed, in the presence of Sheelah Mann and Thomas O’Brien, parish priest of Kinmare, deposed and said”—

Corrig “Deposed and said, that he, deponent, killed Eily O’Connor; that said Eily was the wife of Hardress Cregan, and stood in the way of his marriage with Miss Anne Chute; deponent offered to put away the girl, and his master employed him to do so.”

Sheelah [L. C.] Divil a word—it’s a lie from end to end; that ould thief was niver in my cabin—he invented the whole of it—sure you’re the divil’s own parverter of the truth.

Corrig Am I? Oh, oh! Father Tom will scarcely say as much? [To him.] Did Danny Mann confess this in your presence?

Father T I’d like to see the law that can unseal the lips of the priest, and make him reveal the secrets of heaven.

Anne So much for your two witnesses. Ladies, stand close. Gentlemen, give us room here.

Corrig We have abundant proof, your worship—enough to hang a whole country. Danny isn’t dead yet. Deponent agreed with Cregan that if the deed was to be done, that he, Cregan, should give his glove as a token.

Hard Hold! I confess that what he has read is true. Danny did make the offer, and I repelled his horrible proposition.

Mrs. C [Advancing.] But I—I did! [Movement of surprise.] I your wretched mother—I gave it to him—I am guilty! thank heaven for that! remove those bonds from his hands and put them here on mine.

Hard ’Tis false, mother, you did not know his purpose—you could not know it. [Corporal takes off handcuffs.

Myles Save all here. If you plaze, I’d like to say a word; there’s been a murder done, and I done it.

Myles Myself. Danny was killed by my hand. [To Corrig.] Were yez any way nigh that time?

Myles [Quickly.] That’s lucky; then take down what I’m sayin’. I shot the poor boy—but widout manin’ to hurt him. It’s lucky I killed him that time, for it’s lifted a mighty sin off the sowl of the crature.

Myles I mane, that if you found one witness to Eily O’Connor’s death, I found another that knows a little more about it, and here she is.

Mrs. C If ever he blamed you, it was my foolish pride spoke in his hard words—he loves you with all his heart. Forgive me, Eily.

Anne But what’s to become of me? is all my emotion to be summoned for nothing? Is my wedding dress to go to waste, and here’s all my blushes ready? I must have a husband.

Myles [Looking off out at back.] Don’t be uneasy! it’s only the boys outside that’s caught ould Corrigan thryin’ to get off, and they’ve got him in the horse-pond.

Myles Niver fear, he wasn’t born to be drowned—he won’t sink—he’ll rise out of the world, and divil a fut nearer heaven he’ll get than the top o’ the gallows.

Kyrle That’s right; if you ever spake it any other way I’ll divorce ye—mind that.

Father T Eily, darlin’, in the middle of your joy, sure you would not forget one who never forsook you in your sorrow.

Anne No, it’s that marauder there, that lent me his top coat in the thunder storm. [Pointing to Myles.

Myles Bedad, ma’am, your beauty left a linin’ in it that has kept me warm ever since.

Eily Myles, you saved my life—it belongs to you. There’s my hand—what will you do with it?

Myles [Takes her hand and Hardress’s.] Take her, wid all my heart. I may say that, for ye can’t take her without. I am like the boy who had a penny to put in the poor-box—I’d rather keep it for myself. It’s a shamrock itself ye have got, sir; and like that flower she’ll come up every year fresh and green foreninst ye. When ye cease to love her may dyin’ become ye, and when ye do die, lave yer money to the poor, your widdy to me, and we’ll both forgive ye.

Eily I’m only a poor simple girl, and it’s frightened I am to be surrounded by so many—

Eily Oh, if I could think so—if I could hope that I had established myself in a little corner of their hearts, there wouldn’t be a happier girl alive than The Colleen Bawn.

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Transcriber's Note

The following apparent errors have been corrected:

p. 5 "vulgularly" changed to "vulgarly"
p. 10 "Miles" changed to "Myles"
p. 10 "Myles." changed to "Myles"
p. 19 "it her" changed to "it in her"
p. 19 "he brazen" changed to "he’d brazen"
p. 22 "[Aside]" changed to "[Aside.]"
p. 24 "Danny" changed to "Danny."
p. 25 "Danny." changed to "Danny"
p. 25 "Eily." changed to "Eily"
p. 26 "Staggering" changed to "Staggering."
p. 26 "Anne." changed to "Anne"
p. 30 "dyin,’" changed to "dyin’,"
p. 31 "Going up" changed to "Going up."
p. 31 "Sheeelah" changed to "Sheelah"
p. 32 "Muckrose" changed to "Muckross"
p. 32 "Make" changed to "Made"
p. 33 "Conccals" changed to "Conceals"
p. 33 "Annie" changed to "Anne"
p. 35 "matter" changed to "matter."
p. 36 "t’ye. don’t" changed to "t’ye, don’t"
p. 36 "Ducia" changed to "Ducie"
p. 37 "commence" changed to "commence?"
p. 37 "Ducia" changed to "Ducie"
p. 37 "O’Conner" changed to "O’Connor"
p. 38 "Hard." changed to "Hard"
p. 39 "3 E" changed to "3 E."
p. 40 "3" changed to "3 E."
p. 40 "do so." changed to "do so.”"

Inconsistent spelling and punctuation have otherwise been left as printed.

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Myles na Coppaleen	Mr. Dion Boucicault.
Hardress Cregan	Mr. H. F. Daly.
Danny Mann	Mr. Charles Wheatleigh.
Kyrle Daly	Mr. Charles Fisher.
Father Tom	Mr. D. W. Leeson.
Mr. Corrigan	Mr. J. G. Burnett.
Bertie O’Moore	Mr. Henry.
Hyland Creagh	Mr. Levick.
Servant	Mr. Goodrich.
Corporal	Mr. Clarke.
Eily O’Connor	Miss Agnes Robertson.
Anne Chute	Miss Laura Keene.
Mrs. Cregan	Madam Ponisi.
Sheelah	Miss Mary Wells.
Kathleen Creagh	Miss Josephine Henry.
Ducie Blennerhasset	Miss Hamilton.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Colleen Bawn; or, the Brides of Garryowen

THE COLLEEN BAWN;
OR, THE
BRIDES OF GARRYOWEN.

CAST OF CHARACTERS.—[The Colleen Bawn.]

COSTUMES.—Period, 179—.

ACT I.

ACT II.

ACT III.

Beautiful Woman.

Lyon’s Kathairon.

Transcriber's Note

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Colleen Bawn; or, the Brides of Garryowen

THE COLLEEN BAWN; OR, THE BRIDES OF GARRYOWEN.

CAST OF CHARACTERS.—[The Colleen Bawn.]

COSTUMES.—Period, 179—.

ACT I.

ACT II.

ACT III.

Beautiful Woman.

Lyon’s Kathairon.

Transcriber's Note

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

THE COLLEEN BAWN;
OR, THE
BRIDES OF GARRYOWEN.