_Owen._ When he asked me for you? But I’ll not mislead you--I’ll say nothing; for it was a shame he did not speak out, after all the encouragement he got from me. _Mabel._ Then did he get encouragement from you? _Owen._ That is--(_smiling_)--taking it the other way, he might understand it so, if he had any conscience. Come now, Mabel, when he went to the well, what did he say to you? for I am sure he said something. _Mabel._ Then he said nothing--but just put the rose and shamrock into my hand. _Owen._ Oh! did he?--And what did you say? _Mabel._ I said nothing.--What could I say? _Omen._ I wish I’d been with you, Mabel. _Mabel._ I’m glad you were not, Owen. _Owen._ Well, what did he say next? _Mabel._ I tell you he said nothing, but cleared his throat and hemmed, as he does often. _Owen._ What, all the way to the well and back, nothing but hem, and clear his throat? _Mabel._ Nothing in life. _Owen._ Why, then, the man’s a fool or a rogue. _Mabel._ Oh, don’t say that, any way. But there’s my mother coming in from the field. How weak she walks! I must go in to bear her company spinning. _Owen._ And I’ll be in by the time I’ve settled all here. [_Exit MABEL._ _OWEN, solus._ Oh! I know how keenly Mabel feels all, tho’ she speaks so mild. Then I’m cut to the heart by this behaviour of Gilbert’s:--sure he could not be so cruel to be jesting with her!--he’s an Englishman, and may be he thinks no harm to jilt an Irishwoman. But I’ll show him--but then if he never asked her the question, how can we say any thing?--Oh! the thing is, he’s a snug man, and money’s at the bottom of all,--and since Christy’s to have the new inn, and Miss Gallagher has the money!--Well, it’s all over, and I don’t know what will become of me. _Enter Mr. ANDREW HOPE._ _Mr. H._ My gude lad, may your name be Larken? _Owen._ It is, sir--Owen Larken, at your service--the son of the widow Larken. _Mrs. H._ Then I have to thank your family for their goodness to my puir brother, years ago. And for yourself, your friend, Mr. Christy Gallagher, has been telling me you can play the bugle? _Owen._ I can, sir. _Mr. H._ And we want a bugle, and the _pay’s_ fifteen guineas; and I’d sooner give it to you than three others that has applied, if you’ll list. _Owen._ Fifteen guineas! Oh! if I could send that money home to my mother! but I must ask her consint. Sir, she lives convanient, just in this cabin here--would you be pleased to step in with me, and I’ll ask her consint. _Mr. H._ That’s right,--lead on, my douce lad--you ken the way. [_Exeunt._ SCENE V. _Kitchen of the Widow LAKKEN’S Cottage._ _A Door is seen open, into an inner Room._ _MABEL, alone, (Sitting near the door of the inner room, spinning and singing_[1].) [Footnote 1: This song is set to music by Mr. Webbe.]