_Mabel._ Money is it? Then there's no money you could send her--not the full of Lough Erne itself, in golden guineas, could make her amends for the loss of yourself, Owen, and you know that.

_Mr. H._ And I am not the man that would entice you to list, or gang with me, in contradiction to your duty at home, or your interest abroad: so (_turning to_ MABEL) do not look on me as the tempter to evil, nor with distrust, as you do, kind sister as you are, and like my own Kate; but hear me coolly, and without prejudice, for it is his gude I wish.

_Mabel._ I am listening then, and I ask your pardon if I looked a doubt.

_Mr. H._ The gude mother must wish, above all things here below, the weal and _advancement_ and the honour of her bairns; and she would not let the son be tied to her ap.r.o.n-strings, for any use or profit to herself, but ever wish him to do the best in life for his sel'. Is not this truth, gude friends--plain truth?

_Mabel._ It is then--I own that: truth and sense too.

_Owen._ Now see there, Mabel.

_Mr. H._ And better for him to do something abroad than digging at home; and in the army he might get on,--and here's the bugle-boy's pay.

_Mabel._ Is it a bugle-boy you are thinking of making him?

_Mr. H._ That's the only thing I could make him. I wish I could offer better.

_Mabel._ Then, I thank you, sir, and I wouldn't doubt ye--and it would be very well for a common boy that could only dig; but my brother's no common boy, sir.

_Owen._ Oh, Mabel!

_Mabel._ Hush, Owen! for it's the truth I'm telling, and if to your face I can't help it. You may hide the face, but I won't hide the truth.

_Mr. H._ Then speak on, my warm-hearted la.s.sy, speak on.

_Mabel._ Then, sir, he got an edication while ever my poor father lived, and no better scholar, they said, for the teaching he got:--but all was given over when the father died, and the troubles came, and Owen, as he ought, give himself up intirely for my mother, to help her, a widow. But it's not digging and slaving he is to be always:--it's with the head, as my father used to say, he'll make more than the hands; and we hope to get a clerk's place for him sometime, or there will be a schoolmaster wanting in this town, and that will be what he would be fit for; and not--but it's not civil, before you, a soldier, sir, to say the rest.

_Mr. H._ Fear not, you will not give offence.

_Mabel._ And not to be spending his breath blowing through a horn all his days, for the sake of wearing a fine red coat. I beg your pardon again, sir, if I say too much--but it's to save my brother and my mother.

_Mr. H._ I like you the better for all you've said for both.

_Owen._ And I'm off entirely:--I'll not list, I thank you, sir.

[_MABEL clasps her hands joyfully, then embraces her brother._

_Mr. H._ And I'll not ask you to list--and I would not have asked it at all, but that a friend of yours told me it would be the greatest service I could do you, and that it was the thing of all others you wished.

_Owen._ That friend was Christy Gallagher: but he was mistaken--that's all.

_Mabel._ I hope that's all. But I've no dependance on him for a friend, nor has my mother.

_Owen._ Why, he was saying to me, and I could not say against it, that he had a right to propose for the inn if he could, though Gilbert and we wanted to get it.

_Mabel._ Then I wonder why Christy should be preferred rather than my mother.

_Owen._ Then that's a wonder--and I can't understand how that was.

_Mr. H._ I have one more thing to say, or to do, which I should like better, if you'll give me leave. If there's a difficulty aboot the rent of this new inn that you are talking of, I have a little spare money, and you're welcome to it:--I consider it as a debt of my brother's, which I am bound to pay; so no obligation in life--tell me how much will do.

[_Takes out his purse._

_Owen_ and _Mabel._ You are very kind--you are very good.

_Mr. H._ No, I am not--I am only just. Say only how much will do.

_Owen._ Alas! money won't do now, sir. It's all settled, and Christy says he has a promise of it in writing from the lady.

_Mr. H._ May be this Christy might sell his interest, and we will see--I will not say till I find I can do. Fare ye weel till we meet, as I hope we shall, at the dance that's to be at the castle. The band is to be there, and I with them, and I shall hope for this la.s.sy's hand in the dance.

_Mabel._ (_aside_) And Gilbert that never asked me! (_Aloud_) I thank you kindly, sir, I sha'n't go to the dance at-all-at-all, I believe--my mother had better take her rest, and I must stay with her--a good night to you kindly.

[_Exit MABEL into her mother's room._

_Mr. H._ This sister of yours would leave me no heart to carry back to Scotland, I fear, but that I'm a married man already, and have my own luve--a Kate of my own, that's as fair as she, and as gude, and that's saying much.

_Owen._ (_aside_) Much more than Florinda Gallagher will like to hear.

_Mr. H._ I shall thank you if you will teach me, for my Kate, the words of that song your sister was singing when we came in.

_Owen._ I believe it's to flatter me you say this, for that song is my writing.

_Mr. H._ Yours?

_Owen._ Mine, such as it is.

_Mr. H._ Sic a ane as you are then, I'm glad you are not to be a bugle-boy: your sister is right.

_Owen._ I'll teach you the words as we go along.

_Mr. H._ Do so;--but mind now this song-writing do not lead you to idleness. We must see to turn your edication to good account. (_Aside_) Oh, I will never rest till I pay my brother's debt, some way or other, to this gude family.

[_Exeunt._

ACT III.

SCENE I.

_CHRISTY alone._