In writing this song, it is evident that Eileen Fane was inspired by Blind William of Tipperary; and that she was beholden to Carroll O’Daly for her “Eileen, my Treasure,” although not to Robin Adair of County Wicklow.
Author.
Dulcie’s voice and her flushed smile, too, faded, died out. She looked down at the keyboard, where her white hands rested idly; she bent lower—a little lower; laid her arms on the music-rest, her face on her crossed arms. And, slowly, the tears fell without a tremor, without a sound.
He had leaned over her shoulders; his bowed head was close to hers—so close that he became aware of the hot, tearful fragrance of her breath; but there was not a sound from her, not a stir.
“What is it, Sweetness?” he whispered.
“I—don’t know.... I didn’t m-mean to—cry.... And I don’t know why I should.... I’m very h-happy——” She withdrew one arm and stretched it out, blindly, seeking him; and he took her hand and held it close to his lips.
“Why are you so distressed, Dulcie?”
“I’m not. I’m happy.... You know I am.... My heart was very full; that is all.... I don’t seem to know how to express myself sometimes.... Perhaps it’s because I don’t quite dare.... So something gives way.... And this happens—tears. Don’t mind them, please.... If I could reach my handkerchief——” She drew the tiny square of sheer stuff from her bosom and rested her closed eyes on it.
“It’s silly, isn’t it, Garry?... W-when a girl is so heavenly contented.... Is anybody coming?”