BRIDE.
crossing to Martin Doul. — It’s the Saint’s bell; you’ll hear him ringing out the time he’ll be going up some place, to be saying his prayers.
[Martin Doul holds out his hand; she gives it to him.]
MARTIN DOUL.
ringing it. — It’s a sweet, beautiful sound.
MARY DOUL.
You’d know, I’m thinking, by the little silvery voice of it, a fasting holy man was after carrying it a great way at his side.
[Bride crosses a little right behind Martin Doul.]
MOLLY BYRNE.
unfolding Saint’s cloak. — Let you stand up now, Martin Doul, till I put his big cloak on you. (Martin Doul rises, comes forward, centre a little.) The way we’d see how you’d look, and you a saint of the Almighty God.
MARTIN DOUL.
standing up, a little diffidently. — I’ve heard the priests a power of times making great talk and praises of the beauty of the saints.
[Molly Byrne slips cloak round him.]
TIMMY.
uneasily. — You’d have a right to be leaving him alone, Molly. What would the Saint say if he seen you making game with his cloak?
MOLLY BYRNE.
recklessly. — How would he see us, and he saying prayers in the wood? (She turns Martin Doul round.) Isn’t that a fine holy-looking saint, Timmy the smith? (Laughing foolishly.) There’s a grand, handsome fellow, Mary Doul; and if you seen him now you’d be as proud, I’m thinking, as the archangels below, fell out with the Almighty God.