Anne
You always bring people around.

James
The quiet, reasonable way is the way that people like.

Anne
Still, with all, I’m shy of going into your house.

James
Don’t doubt but there’ll be a welcome before you; come round
with Maire.

  Anne rises, and comes to him.  She has graceful, bird-like movements.

ANNE (putting her hands on James’ shoulders) Maybe we won’t have a chance of seeing each other after all.

  James Moynihan kisses her reverently

JAMES Sit down now, Anne, because there’s something I want to show you.  Do you ever see “The Shamrock”?

ANNE
Very seldom.

  James and Anne go to the settle; they sit down.

JAMES There be good pieces in it sometimes.  There’s a poem of mine in it this week.

ANNE
Of yours, James?  Printed, do you mean?

JAMES
Ay, printed. (He takes a paper out of his pocket, and opens it)
It’s a poem to yourself, though your name doesn’t come into it.
(Gives paper) Let no one see it, Anne, at least not for the present. 
And now, good-bye.

  Goes to the door.  Anne continues reading the verse eagerly.  At the
  door James turns and recites:—­

    When lights are failing, and skies are paling,
      And leaves are sailing a-down the air,
    O, it’s then that love lifts my heart above
      My roving thoughts and my petty care;
    And though the gloom be like the tomb,
      Where there’s no room for my love and me,
    O, still I’ll find you, and still I’ll bind you,
      My wild sweet rose of Aughnalee!

That’s the first stanza.  Good-bye.

  James goes out.  Anne continues reading, then she leaves the paper
  down with a sigh.

ANNE O, it’s lovely! (She takes the paper up again, rises and goes to the door.  She remains looking out.  Some one speaks to her) No, Brian, Maire’s not back yet.  Ay, I’ll engage she’ll give you a call when she does come back. (Anne turns back.  She opens drawer in the dresser and puts paper in.  She begins to clear table, putting the delpht back on dresser.  To herself, anxiously) I hope Maire won’t forget to call at the mill. (Room door right opens, and Conn Hourican comes down.  Conn Hourican is a man of about fifty, with clear-cut, powerful features, his face is clean-shaven, his expression vehement.  His dress is old-fashioned.  He wears knee-breeches, a frieze coat rather long, a linen shirt with a little linen collar and a black string for bow.  He carries a slick and moves about restlessly)

ANNE
Had Maire any talk of going to the mill, father?

CONN
I heard nothing of it.

ANNE
I hope she’ll mind of it.  We must get the meal there, and not
be going to the shop so often.