2

cunning. His mouth is set in a half-leering grin of a hardup's
would-be, worldly-wise cynicism. He glances at Cregan with a look
of mingled liking and a supreme contempt for his weakness)

Maloy: *(automatically appraising the decanter-grinning)*
Glory be, it's three-quarters full yet! Are ye sick, Jamie? *(Cregan gives no sign of having heard the jib. Mickey sits in the chair opposite him)* I've been takin' stock of what liquor's left. It's not as bad as it might be. There's enough for Nora to kape on. With me to help her - *(grudgingly)* and you, too, for you're no fool, Jamie, if you'd stay sober - she'll have a livin' from this place. *(He pauses, as if waiting for assent from Cregan but the latter gives no sign of having heard.)* *Me* goes on resentfully *(We'd have no cause to worry for Nora if it wasn't for the debts himself run up in the days he was playin' the grand gentlemen, that have kept him one jump ahead of the sheriff)* ivin' since.

Cregan: *(suddenly starts from his stupor and pounds his fist on the table angrily)* Let you close your big mouth - and him dead upstairs! I'll not have a word against him!

Maloy: *(unimpressed - contemptuously)* To hell wid you. *(Cregan relapses into apathetic dejection again.)* Maloy glances at him with a grudging sympathy. But I know how ye feel, Jamie, and I'm glad for him there's one to mourn him widout lyin'! *(From upstairs there comes again the wail of the keen.)* Maloy glances up. Well, it's a beautiful wake Nora's givin' him, anyways, and a grand funeral to-morrow. *(He gives Cregan a nudge)* Let you rouse youself, Jamie, and not sit there half dead. Come on, have a taste wid me like Con Melody'd want you to if he was alive here. You know he'd only laugh at you wid that sneer of his, and call you a liar for pretendin' grief at his death.

Cregan: *(with a change of mood - resentfully)* He would, damn him! He couldn't believe there was decency in anyone. *(He pours out a big drink from the decanter which Mickey has shoved toward him)*

Mickey: *(pours a small drink for himself)* Because there was hone in him. *(Raising his glass)* Here's health. *(They drink)*

Cregan: *(melancholy again)* Poor auld Con. The dew don't taste the same, an' him not here.

Mickey: *(sardonically)* He's needin' a drink bad where he is now.

Cregan: *(with a shudder)* Don't say it.

Mickey: *(smacking his lips judiciously)* The dew tastes

3

right to me. It's his private stock and he knew whiskey, if it did
kill him.

Cregan: (somberly) It wasn't the dhrink killed him.

Mickey: (grins cynically) You'll be tellin' me it
was something he ate.

hills

Cregan: (angrily) Yerrah, don't make fool's jokes an'
Con Melody a corpse! It wasn't whiskey killed him, I'm sayin'. He was
strong as a bull an' his guts was made of iron. He could have drunk a
keg a day an' lived for twenty years yet if the pride and spirit wasn't
dead inside him ivir since the night he tried to challenge that Yankee
coward, Harford, to a duel, and him and me got bate by the police and arres-
ted. And then his own daughter turning traitor against him and marry-
in' Harford's son. That put the final shame on him! He's been no
better than a walkin' corpse ivir since, an' livin' day after day in the
Bar drinkin' to forget an' waitin' for death, while he'd be talkin' in
brøgue wid all the drunken bog-trotters came in, tellin' dirty stories
an roarin' songs, an' dancin' jigs, an' pretendin' he had no education an'
was no bhetter an' they were.

in this day and age it still happens,

Mickey: (stubbornly) He wasn't any better. It was
when he used to lie about bein' a Gintleman, an' his father only a Galway
shebeen-keeper, that he was pretendin'.

Cregan: (harshly) Arrah, don't talk! Didn't he go to
the College in Ireland, and hadn't he his own estate till he ruined him-
self! Wasn't he as fine an Officer as you'd find in Wellington's Army
when he was a Major of Dragoons in Spain and I served under him? To
hell wid what his Father was! He got rich, didn't he? And He raised
Con to be a gentleman, and Con Melody was a gentleman! (He adds, making
the sign of the cross) May God rest his soul in peace.

Mickey: (crosses himself automatically) Amen to that.
An! I'll say no more. It's bad luck to spake ill of the dead, any way.
(He pauses) Will Sara come for the funeral, d'you think?

Cregan: (viciously) God curse her if she don't! Nora
wrote her when himself was bad took, and she's had plenty of time.

Mickey: I doubt she'll come. She hated him. You know
as well as me there's nivir been a word between them in the four years
since she married and went off, and never a mention of his name in her
letters to Nora. And, any way, she was always stuck up and givin' her-
self airs. I'll wager by this she's so high and mighty and Yankee,
she'd feel shame to visit her poor Irish relations even for her Father's
funeral.

Cregen: (fiercely) Poor relations, is it?

Nora: (with a touching, charming, pathetic little smile of pleased coquetry that lights up her face) It's you have the blarneyin' tongue, Jamie.

Cregan: (with an answering grin) I have not. I'm a great one for telling the truth, ye mean. (With a change of tone)
Maybe Sara'll pay off his debts for you.

Nora: (defensively) She'll not, then! Do you think I'd ask her?

Cregan: Why not? If you're his wife, she's his daughter.
She's a right -

Nora: Well, I've no right. She has her husband an' three young children to think of, an' another comin', an' is it right for an' auld woman like me to puttin' my burdens on her shoulders, a young woman just startin' life? An' if I would take her money, what little she's got is her husband's earnin' not hers. (With scornful pride) Do you think I'd let a Harford pay for Con Melody? Even if I had no pride, I'd be afeered to. Con would rise from his grave to curse me!

Cregan: (with grim appreciation) Aye, divil a doubt, he would! By the Powers, his rage'd bring him back from the flames of hell! (Then hastily) I'm jokin' only. Don't heed me, Nora. (Someone tries the handle on the bolted street door at rear. Then there is a knock)

Nora: (wearily) Go tell them it's the side door for the wake. (Cregan goes and unbolts the door - then backs away as Sara with her husband, Simon Harford, behind her, step into the room.)

Sara is twenty-five, exceedingly pretty in a typically Irish fashion, with a mass of black hair, a fair skin with rosy cheeks, and her mother's beautiful deep-blue eyes. There is a curious blending in her appearance of what are commonly considered to be aristocratic and peasant characteristics. She has a fine thoughtful forehead. Her eyes are not only beautiful but observant and intelligent. Her nose is straight and finely modeled. She has small ears set close to her head, a well-shaped head on a slender neck. Her mouth, on the other hand, has a touch of coarse sensuality about its thick, tight lips, and her jaw is a little too long and heavy for the rest of her face, with a quality about it of masculine obstinacy and determination. Her body is concealed by the loose dress of mourning black she wears but, in spite of it, her pregnancy, now five months along, is subtle. One gets the impression of a strong body, full breasted, full of health and vitality, and retaining its grace despite her condition. Its bad points are thick ankles, large feet, and big hands, broad and strong with thick, stubby fingers. Her voice is low and musical. She has rid her speech of brogue, except in moments of extreme emotion.

II

and is having a struggle with himself. He begins to feel liking and
respect for Simon and he bitterly resents feeling this. Finally
he gets up and comes to the table at left, front, ignoring Simon, and
defiantly pouring himself a big drink. Simon looks at him, gets up
and approaches him smilingly with out-stretched hand)

Simon: *(with unaffected cordiality)* How are you, Mr Cregan? I guess you've forgotten me, but I met you here once with Major Melody.

Cregan: *(hesitates, then placated in spite of himself, takes his hand - a bit stiffly)* Good Evening to you, I hadn't forgotten but I was thinkin' maybe you had. *(Then punctiliously polite)* Will ye sit down and drink wid me, Mr Harford?

Simon: *(gravely)* With pleasure, Mr Cregan. *(They sit down, Cregan at left-Simon at right of table. Simon pours a small drink and raises his glass)* Your good health, Sir.

Cregan: *Drink hearty.* *(Suddenly a fierce look of suspicious distrust comes over Cregan's face - harshly)* Wait a moment! I've a better toast for you! To Ireland and the Irishland hell roast the soul of any damned Yank that wud kape him down!

Simon: *(gravely)* Amen to that, Mr Cregan. And may they find what they have longed for and fought for so long, freedom from oppression - and liberty! *(He touches his glass to Cregan's and drinks)* For a moment Cregan stares at him in comical confusion, then he gulps his own drink hastily.)

Cregan: *(wiping the back of his hand across his mouth-abashed and respectful)* Thank you, Sor. *(Then in a burst of honest admiration)* You're a man, divil a less, and Sara has a right to be proud she's your wife.

Simon: *(embarressed in his turn)* Oh no, it's I who should be proud to be her husband. And so am I.

Cregan: *(flatly)* I don't agree with you. *(He hesitates, staring at Simon uncertainly - then impulsively and appealingly, lowering his voice and speaking rapidly)* Listen, Sor. I've somethin' to say to you, before Nora comes. *(Fiercely assertive)*

Nora. She's a grand woman! *(As Simon is a about to assent)* Oh, I know you know that or I'd not be talkin'. An' she's had hell's own life wid Con, slavin' loike a naggu, wid linin'. But no matter. Ye know him, ye can guess. Nora deserves peace in the days that's left her, if ivir a woman did. An' now he's gone, she's her chance. But there's his debts. It's her honor to pay them, but it'll take years of more slaving - *(Again there is a sound of a wailing keen from the room above and suddenly his expression changes to a guilty self-contempt and he stares up at the ceiling with a haunted, frightened look and mutters to)*

I2

himself) Did you hear me, Con? For the love av God, forgive me! It's a black traitor I am to your pride - to be begging from a Harford! (He turns on Simon fiercely threatening) You'll forget what I've said, d'ye hear? It's all lies! I'm dead drunk! It's the whiskey talkin'! (Then as he hears a sound from the hall-imploringly) Whist! Here's someone. For the love av God, don't let on to Nora I told ye or she'd nivir spake to me again! (Then quickly changing his tone to an amiable politeness as Sara enters from the hall at right) It's a pleasure to drink wid ye, Mr Harford. Will ye have another taste?

Simon: (playing up to him) Not now, thank you, Mr Cregan. (Sara comes quickly to them. She is white and shaken, her eyes have a stricken, haunted look, and her lips are trembling. Simon rises and puts his arm around her protectingly. She clings to him.)

Sara: (in a low trembling voice) You shouldn't have made me go, Simon. I'd forgotten him - almost. Now he's alive again - lying there in his Major's uniform. I remember so well, with the old sneer I hated on his lips! (She shudders. Simon pats her shoulder gently but can find nothing to say. She goes on tremblingly.) I couldn't stay. I can't bear the sight of death. It's the first time I've seen it and I hate it! It's life with you I love. I don't want to think it can ever end. (She stares before her strangely) He was lying there with the old sneer - like death mocking at life! (She shudders, clinging to Simon)

Simon: (soothingly) There, there. Don't think of it. It's over now.

Sara: (controlling herself) Yes, I know, I won't. (Then forcing a smile) You and Jamie seem to have gotten friendly all of a sudden. (To Jamie) Don't you think I've got the best husband a woman could have, Jamie?

Cregan: He's a man - if he is a Harford. (Sara resents this, but sees that Simon is smiling and she smiles too. Cregan goes hesitantly) Askin' your pardon, Sor - but, av ye plaze, all them above at the wake will be gossipin' you're here by now, an' they'll take it bad if you don't go up - and pay your respect to the dead.

Sara: (angrily) Let them think what they please! Why should Simon care what they think?

Simon: (ignoring her - to Cregan) I'll go right away. (He turns)

Sara: (clings to his arm - frightenedly) No! I don't want death seeing you. We - we're so happy now. I'll bring bad luck.

I3

Simon: (smiles teasingly and pats her cheek) Now, now. Remember what you promised me about your superstitions.

Sara: That I'd forget all about the good luck ones. (She forces a smile) I'll try again, Simon. (She kisses him.) Go up, then - only don't stay long. (Simon goes out right. Sara's eyes follow him. Then she sits in the first chair at left, rear of the long table at center, her expression again strained and fearful. Cregan pours another drink and downs it, regarding her frowningly the while. Then he gets up and takes the chair on her right, at the end of the table.)

Sara: Cregan: (with thinly veiled hostility) You've changed,

Sara: (resenting his tone) Have I? (Then resolved not to quarrel, forcing a smile) Well, I hope it's for the better - for Simon's sake.

Cregan: (disregarding this sneeringly) You've made yourself a fine, high-toned, Yankee woman, ↓ ! It's great shame you must feel to have to come here an' associate wid us poor Irish.

Sara: (stung) Jamie! (controlling her anger) You know that's a lie! You know it was my Father I was always ashamed of and he's dead now.

Cregan: (bitterly) Thank God, you're saying.

Sara: (ignores this) You know I was ashamed of him just because he was such a vain, crazy, snob himself, with all his lies and pretenses of being a gentleman, and his being ashamed of my poor Mother.

Cregan: (grimly) He had none of his auld lies and pretenses wid him the past years since you married an' broke his heart, entirely.

Sara: (defensively) Are you trying to blame me ---?

Cregan: He pretended to be one av us, instead. He never spoke except in a brogue you could cut with a knife, like an ignorant bog-trotter had just landed - except when he was too drunk to watch himself.

Sara: (with a little shrinking movement) I know. Mother wrote me. (suddenly deeply moved in spite of herself) Poor Father! God forgive him. He never knew what he was himself. He

I4

never lived in life, but only in a bad dream. (Then with an abrupt change to disdainful scorn) You don't have to tell me, Jamie. Didn't I see him, before I left, own up Life had beaten him and loose the last speck of pride?

Cregan: *(sharply accusing)* An' you scorned him for it, and still do, even while you say it was his lyin' pride shamed, you!
Faix, you're his daughter still as you always was! You're like him, inside you, as he was at his worst!

Sara: *It's a lie!* *(Controlling her anger - quietly)* You've been drinking or you wouldn't be so unfair to me. I haven't changed, Jamie, not in the way you suspect.

Cregan: *We'll soon see.* Tell me this, are you goin' to help your ~~Mother~~ now in her troubles?

Sara: What do you think me? Of course, I'll help her! Don't I love her move than anyone in the world, except Simon and the children!

Cregan: *(eagerly)* That's the talk! Then you'll give your word to pay off his debts?

Sara: *(stiffening)* His debts?

Cregan: *(misunderstanding)* Faix, ye didn't think he'd ivir paid them, did ye? He didn't change that much, divil a fear. He owed ivry one in creation- two thousand or more, it must come to. But I know how well your husband's bin doin' in his business. It'd be aisy for you to --

Sara: *(deep, angry resentment rising)* Would it, indeed! Do you think I'd even ask Simon to give the money we've slaved to save to pay the debts of his drunken squandering? Two thousand! And just when we're planning to buy out Simon's partner - and us with four small children to bring up and educate! *(contemptuously)* Do you think I'm a fool?

Cregan: *(his anger rising)* It's for your ~~Mother's~~ sake. They might take the roof from over her head.

Sara: *(contemptuously)* A fine roof! Let them! It'll be a good thing to free her from it. She's been a slave to this drunkard's roost too long. And I'll look after her, never fear, and see she wants for nothing.

Cregan: Ye think Nora'd take charity from you? It's

20

The only foolish thing he ever did he did without askin' me. He had someone buy the old farm here for him where he used to live in the cabin by the lake.

Nora: Did he, now? I heard tell it was sold. Every one was wonderin' who was the fool - (Hastily) I mane, they say divil a one has ivir made it pay.

Sara: (frowning) I know. It was foolish. But he was that shamed and guilty when I found out - like a little boy caught stealing jam - that I couldn't scold. And he had all kinds of excuses that it was a wise notion because, if the worst happened, it'd be easy to fix up the old farmhouse on it, and you could at least raise a living from it, and we'd always have it to fall back on. Then when I laughed at him and said that was no fear it'd ever come to that, he owned up he'd really bought it for sentiment because it was there we first loved each other.

Nora: (guiltily embarrassed) Arrah, don't think av that now. Wasn't you married the next day? God forgave you the sin.

Sara: (Proudly defensive) I've never asked His forgiveness. I'm proud of it. (Changing the subject abruptly) So, of course when he told me that, I forgave and gave him a kiss for it. There's over two hundred acres, and he bought it for a song, and the little lake on it is beautiful, and there's grand woods around it that would make a fine park. With a mansion built on the hill by the lake, where his old shock was, you couldn't find a better gentleman's estate.

Nora: (with admiring teasing) Glory be, but you're sure av havin' your way!

Sara: (determinedly) I am, Mother, for this is America not poverty-stricken Ireland where you're a slave! Here you're free to take what you want, if you've the power in yourself. (A pause - her expression suddenly becomes uneasily thoughtful) I think Simon had other reasons for buying the farm he didn't tell me - maybe that he didn't tell even himself. He has queer lonely spells at times when I feel he's in a dream world away from me.

Nora: Yes, he's a touch av the poet, God pity him - like your Father. (As if on cue, a wailing keen comes from the floor above. Nora's face becomes sorrow-ridden, She shivers, and makes the sign of the cross.)

Sara: (her thoughts made more uneasy by this disturbance - irritably) Why do you let them keen, Mother? It's old ignorant nonsense! It belongs back in Ireland, not here! (Then, as her Mother doesn't hear her, she goes on uneasily, thinking (aloud) Sometimes I feel he's thinking that if it wasn't for me and the children he'd be living alone back in his shock by the lake writing poetry like he used to, or else

21

else writing that book he was planning to show people how to change the Government and all the laws so there'd be no more poor people, nor anyone getting the best of the next one, and there'd be no risk but everyone would have enough. (She finishes scornfully) He doesn't talk about that anymore, thank God! I've laughed it out of him! I've told him you can make new laws but you can't make new men and women to fit them, so what's the use of dreaming? I've said, even if he could make it come true, it would be a coward's heaven he'd have, for where is the glory of life if it's not a battle where you prove your strength to rise to the top and let nothing stop you! (She says this last with a small ex-ultance. Then she smiles fondly) But I'm a fool to take his dreams seriously. Sure, when he's himself, there's no one takes more joy in getting ahead. If you'd see his pride sometimes when he comes home to tell me of some scheme he's accomplished. (She laughs) Oh, he's a queer mixture. (Then intensely) And I love him, every bit of him! I love him more than ever any woman loved a man, I think. I'd give my last drop of blood to protect him and make him happy! And he is happy! (Again there is the wailing keen from the wake above. Nora gets to her feet, warily)

Nora: (dully) I'd better go up to the wake early, Sara. They'll think it wrong I'm staying away from him so long. (She hesitates feeling she must make some comment on what Sara has said which she has only half heard) I wouldn't worry over Simon being happy. Sure, you've only to see the love in his face when he looks at you. (Then inconsequently) Does he ever hear from his people?

Sara: (resentfully) From his Father? No fear. He won't ever let Simon's name be spoken in their home. But Simon's Mother writes him letters. Not often, though. I'll say this for her, she never tried to interfere. (Then Cynically) Maybe it's because Simon's Father never gives her the chance. (Then honestly) No, that's not fair. I ought to feel grateful to her. It was the two thousand dollars she sent Simon after we were married gave us our start. (Resentfully) Not but what we didn't pay her back every penny as soon as we'd saved it. I made Simon do that, for all his saying she wanted it to be a gift and we'd hurt her feelings. (With a toss of her head) I have my feelings, too. I'm accepting no gifts from her.

Nora: (has not been listening to this at all -dully) I'll go up to him now. (She starts for the door at right as Simon enters it. He smiles at her and she forces a smile in return and goes out. He comes over and sits beside Sara, giving her a pat on the cheek as she smiles up at him)

Sara: How's the baby?

Simon: Sound asleep. (He hesitates - then making up his mind - uncomfortably) Listen, Sara. There's one thing we ought to talk over and decide right away - for your mother's sake.

Sara: (stiffens, glancing at him suspiciously) What's that?

28

Sara: I saw it, you. And I guessed beneath it she was a woman with a will of iron to get her own way.

Simon: (laughs) Iron and Mother! That's funny, Sara. Quicksilver would describe her better.

Sara: (stiffly) Maybe. You ought to know best. But she promises you she's changed.

Simon: (smiling) I'll believe that when I see it. She couldn't change if she tried. From her letters of the past year or so, I'd say she was simply becoming more and more able, if that were possible.

Sara: (dulily) Maybe. (She hesitates - then slowly) I wish you wouldn't go, Simon.

Simon: (astonished) Not go? When she asks me to? When we haven't seen each other in four years? Surely you wouldn't want me to hurt her like that? (Then shortly) Anyway, I've already said I would go.

Sara: (doggishly) You could send a note by Jamie. You could lie and make an excuse.

Simon: (sharply) Sara!

Sara: (humbly) Forgive me. I shouldn't have said that. I know you wouldn't.

Simon: (stares at her frowningly) I can't understand (His face softens and he puts his arm around her) Here, here. This won't do. What has come over you?

Sara: (doggedly) Why does she want you to meet her at your old cabin?

Simon: (cajolingly) Why? Because it's out of the way and she won't be seen going there. She can't take any chance that Rather might find out, you know. And I suppose it naturally suggested itself. I wrote her when I bought it, so she knows she won't be trespassing.

Sara: (resentfully) It's mine. You put it in my name. I hope you told her that. (With sudden agitation) Oh, I know I'm too soon. I'm a stupid, Simon, but I can't help suspecting that she hates me in her heart and would like nothing better than a chance to come between us.

29

Simon: (stares at her strangely -then he laughs teasingly but with a note of taunting) Ah, who's the one who is afraid now?
(Then with increasing sharpness) But don't you see how ridiculous you have absolutely no justification for talking of Mother like that.
It's not only absurd, it's ungrateful. She consented to our marriage.
It was her money that helped us. She did everything she could for us.
And now you actually want me to lie out of seeing her! I don't know what to think of you, Sara, when you act like this!

Sara: (frightened now) Please don't think badly, Simon.
I know it's crazy. Maybe it's being pregnant makes me nervous and afraid of everything.

Simon: (immediately shamefaced and contrite) I, - I'm sorry, Dear. (He kisses her with awkward tenderness)

Sara: And it's because I love you so much, and I never can believe my good luck in having you, on that I'm worth it, and so I'm always afraid of something happening.

Simon: (hushing her - tenderly) Sush, That's nonsense. (He kisses her.) And now (presses him to her with a fierce possessiveness and kisses him. Then she pushes him back and jumps to her feet with a happy laugh) There! The craziness is all gone. Of course, you must see your Mother. She's been sweet and good to us, and I'll never stop being grateful, and you're to give her my best respect and love. (Then bullying him lovingly) And now, quick with you, and go to bed. I want you to have a good rest so you'll look healthy and handsome and she'll see how well I take care of you. (She pulls his arm and he gets to his feet smilingly) Go on now, Get along with you. (She urges him toward the door at right) I'll be in as soon as I've had another word with Mother. But, mind you, fast asleep by then!

Simon: (laughingly) Oh, I'll mind you. Don't I always?

Sara: (looks after him, smiling fondly, then sits down, sighing. She stares before her, deep in thought, and her expression suddenly becomes uneasy, suspicious, and calculating) She's still got her hold on him. He'd go no matter what my feelings were. She's up to some smuggling trick to come between us. I've got to know. (With smouldering anger) Well, I'll fool her! I'll go, I'll come back. I can easy get the key from his pocket - get there before the short cut. (lock myself in and listen) (Then guilty) What would Simon think of me? But he won't ever know. And it's because I love him so much. (Scornfully) Ah, the divil take honor! It's something we've made up for ourselves! To have love and hold it against the world! That's a woman's honor! (She smiles with a remorseless pride in herself) As if she'd won her honor and run away!

CURTAIN

Tao House

April 12th 1938

May 11th