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(_Aloud_) Well, what?--if it's any thing at all in rason.
_Honor._ It is in rason entirely. It's only, that if Catty Rooney's--
_Old McB._ (_stopping his ears_) Don't name her.
_Honor._ But she might be brought to rason, father; and if she should be brought to give up that claim to the bit o' bog of yours, and when all differs betwix' the families be made up, then you would consent.
_Old McB._ When Catty Rooney's brought to rason! Oh! go shoe the goslings, dear,--ay, you'll get my consint then. There's my hand: I promise you, I'll never be called on to perform that, Honor, jewel.
_Honor._ (_kissing his hand_) Then that's all I'd ask--nor will I say one word more, but thank you, father.
_Old McB._ (_putting on his coat_) She's a good cratur--sorrow better!
sister or daughter. Oh! I won't forget that she prefarred me to the jaunting-car. Phil shall carry him a civil refusal. I'll send off the money, the three hundred, by your brother, this minute--that will be some comfort to poor O'Blaney.
[_Exit McBRIDE._
_Honor._ Is not he a kind father, then, after all?--That promise he gave me about Catty, even such as it is, has ased my heart wonderfully. Oh!
it will all come right, and they'll all be rasonable in time, even Catty Rooney, I've great hope; and little hope's enough, even for love to live upon. But, hark! there's my brother Phil coming. (_A noise heard in the back-house._) 'Tis only the cow in the bier. (_A knock heard at the door._) No, 'tis a Christian; no cow ever knocked so soft. Stay till I open--Who's in it?
_Randal._ (_from within_) Your own Randal--open quick.
_Honor._ Oh! Randal, is it you? I can't open the door.
[_She holds the door--he pushes it half open._
_Randal._ Honor, that I love more than life, let me in, till I speak one word to you, before you're set against me for ever.
_Honor._ No danger of that--but I can't let you in, Randal.
_Randal._ Great danger! Honor, and you must. See you I will, if I die for it!
[_He advances, and she retires behind the door, holding it against him._
_Honor._ Then I won't see you this month again, if you do. My hand's weak, but my heart's strong, Randal.
_Randal._ Then my heart's as weak as a child's this minute. Never fear--don't hold against me, Honor; I'll stand where I am, since you don't trust me, nor love me--and best so, may be: I only wanted to say three words to you.
_Honor._ I can't hear you now, Randal.
_Randal._ Then you'll never hear me more. Good bye to you, Honor.
[_He pulls the door to, angrily._
_Honor._ And it's a wonder as it was you didn't meet my father as you came, or my brother.
_Randal._ (_pus.h.i.+ng the door a little open again_) Your brother!--Oh, Honor! that's what's breaking my heart--(_he sighs_)--that's what I wanted to say to you; and listen to me. No fear of your father, he's gone down the road: I saw him as I come the short cut, but he didn't see me.
_Honor._ What of my brother?--say, and go.
_Randal._ Ay, go--for ever, you'll bid me, when I've said.
_Honor._ What! oh, speak, or I'll drop.--(_She no longer holds the door, but leans against a table.--RANDAL advances, and looks in._)
_Randal._ Don't be frightened, then, dearest--it's nothing in life but a fight at a fair. He's but little hurted.
_Honor._ Hurted!--and by who? by you, is it?--Then all's over.--(_RANDAL comes quite in--HONOR, putting her hand before her eyes._)--You may come or go, for I'll never love you more.
_Randal._ I expicted as much!--But she'll faint!
_Honor._ I won't faint: leave me, Mr. Randal.
_Randal._ Take this water from me, (_holding a cup_) it's all I ask.
_Honor._ No need. (_She sits down_) But what's this?--(_Seeing his hand bound up._)
_Randal._ A cut only.
_Honor._ Bleeding--stop it. (_Turning from him coldly._)
_Randal._ Then by this blood--no, not by this worthless blood of mine--but by that dearest blood that fled from your cheeks, and this minute is coming back, Honor, I swear--(_kneeling to her._)
_Honor._ Say what you will, or swear, I don't hear or heed you. And my father will come and find you there--and I don't care.
_Randal._ I know you don't--and I don't care myself what happens me.
But as to Phil, it's only a cut in the head he got, that signifies nothing--if he was not your brother.
_Honor._ Once lifted your hand against him--all's over.
_Randal._ Honor, I did not lift my hand against _him_; but I was in the quarrel with his faction.
_Honor._ And this your promise to me not to be in any quarrel! No, if my father consented to-morrow, I'd nivir have you now. (_Rises, and is going--he holds her._)
_Randal._ Then you're wrong, Honor: you've heard all against me--now hear what's for me.
_Honor._ I'll hear no more--let me go.
_Randal._ Go, then; (_he lets her go, and turns away himself_) and I'm going before Mr. Carver, who _will_ hear me, and the truth will appear--and tho' not from you, Honor, I'll have justice.
[_Exit RANDAL._
_Honor._ Justice! Oh, worse and worse! to make all public; and if once we go to law, there's an end of love--_for ever._
[_Exit HONOR._
SCENE III.
