MUSKERRY Thirty years, thirty years. Ay, Christy, thirty years; it's a long time. And I'm at my failing time. Perhaps I'm not able to do any more. Day after day there would be troubles here, and I wouldn't be able to face them. And in the end I might lose my position. I'm going to write out my resignation. (He goes to the desk and writes. Christy is at table. Muskerry turns round after writing)
MUSKERRY No one that comes here can have the same heart for the poor that I had. I was earning in the year of the famine. I saw able men struggling to get the work that would bring them a handful of Indian meal. And I saw the little children waiting on the roads for relief. (He turns back and goes on with letter. Suddenly a bell in the House begins to toll) What's that for, Christy?
CHRISTY
Malachi O'Rourk, the Prince, as they called him, is dead.
MUSKERRY Aye, I gave orders to toll him when he died. He was an estated gentleman, and songs were made about his family. People used to annoy him, but he's gone from them now. Bring me a little whisky, Christy.
Christy goes to Cabinet. Muskerry follows him.
CHRISTY
There's none in the bottle, Mister Muskerry.
MUSKERRY (bitterly) No, I suppose not. And is that rascal, Albert Crilly, coming back?
CHRISTY
He's coming, Mister Muskerry. I left the novelette on the
table. Miss Coghlan says it's a nice love story. "The Heart of
Angelina," it is called.
MUSKERRY
I haven't the heart to read.
The bell continues to toll. Christy goes to door.