Jasper County Democrat, Volume 18, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 April 1915 — PEG O'MY HEART [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

PEG O'MY HEART

By J. Hartley Manners

Comedy of Youth Founded by Mr. Manners on His Great Play of the Same Title—lllustrations From Photographs of the Play

PROLOGUE. A romping, madcap, bewitching Irish girl, as Irish as St. Patrick's day in the morning, is turned over to the care of aristocratic English relatives. They are stiff and artificial, and she is as sweet and natural as a healthy country girl can be. They dislike her, but Peg holds her own with jaunty pride and in the end, by her generosity and big heartedness, wins them over, and, what is more, wins her fortune, and, what is still more, wins a very gallant lover. This, in brief, is the story of a play which by its originality, sweetness and charm has been one of the most phenomenal successes New York has seen in a long time. The author of the play has turned it into a novel, so sympathetically, so brilliantly, that Peg as a heroine of fiction is as lovable as she was on the stage.

CHAPTER. I. The Irish Agitator and Angela. FAITH, there’s no man says more and knows less than yerself, I’m thinkin’.” .. ‘‘About Ireland, yer riverence?” “And everything else, Mr. O’Connell.” “Is that criticism or just temper, father?” “It’s both, Mr. O’Connell.” “Sure it’s the good judge ye must be of ignorance, Father Cahill.” “And what might that mane?” “Ye live so much with it, father.” “I’m lookin’ at it and listenin’ to it now, Frank O’Connell.” “Then it’s a miracle has happened, father. To see and hear oneself at the same time is indade a miracle.” “Don’t provoke the man of God!” “Not for the wurrld,” replied the other meekly, “bein’ meses a child of Satan.” “And that’s what ye are. And ye’d have others like yerself. But ye won’t while I’ve a tongue tn me head and a sthrong stick in me hand.” O’Connell looked at him‘with a mischievous twinkle in his blue-gray eyes: “Yer. eloquence seems to nade somethin’ to back it up, I’m thinkin’.” Father Cahill breathed hard. He was a splendid type of the Irish parish priest of the old school. Gifted with a vivid power of eloquence as a preacher and a heart as tender as a woman’s toward the poor and the wretched, he had been for many years idolized by the whole community of the village of M., In County Clare. But of late there was a growing feeling of discontent among the younger generation. They lacked the respect their elders so willingly gave. They asked questions instead of answering them. They began to throw themselves, against Father Cahill’s express wishes and commands, into the fight for home rule under the masterly statesmanship of Charles Stuart Parnell. Already more than one prominent speaker had come into the little village and sown the seeds of temporal and spiritual unrest. Father Cahill opposed these men to the utmost of his power. He saw, as so many farsighted priestsdid. the legacy of bloodshed and desolation that would follow any direct action by the Irish against the British government Though the blood Of the patriot beat in Father Cahill’s veins, the well being of the people who had grown up with him was near to his heart. He was their priest, and he could not bear to think of men he had known as chil dren being beaten and maimed by constabulary and sent to prison afterward in the fight for self government To his horror that day he met Frank Owen O’Connell, one of the best known of all the younger agitators, in the main street of the little village. O’Connell’s backsliding had been one of Father Cahill’s bitterest regrets. He had closed O’Connell’s father’s eyes In death and had taken care of the boy as well as he could. But at the age of fifteen the youth left the village that had so many wretched memories of hardship and struggle and worked his way to- Dublin. It was many years before Father Cahill heard of him again. He had developed meanwhile into one of the most daring of all the fervid speakers in the sacred cause of Irish liberty. And Father Cahill was going to hear from Frank Owen O’Connell again, though little did he reckon on the importance that the present young and comparatively untutored reformer would achieve. * ♦ • * * * Wilberforce Klngsnorth, wealthy, tainerions Englishman, left three chil-

dren—Nathaniel, who in a large measure inherited much of his father’s dominant will and hard headedness; Monica, the elder daughter, and Angela, the younger. Nathaniel was the old man’s favorite. While still a youth he inculcated into the boy all the tenets of business, morality and politics that had made Wilberforce prosperous. Pride in his name, a sturdy grasp of life, an unbending attitude toward those beneath him and an abiding reverence for law and order and fealty to the throne —these were the foundations on which the father built Nathaniel’s character. Next in point of regard came the elder daughter, Monica. Patrician of feature, haughty in manner, exclusive by nature, she had the true Kingsnorth air. She had no disturbing “ideas,” no yearning for things not of her station. She was contented with the world as it had been made for her and seemed duly proud and grateful to have been born a Klngsnorth. She was an excellent musician, rode fairly to hounds, bestowed prizes at the local charities with grace and distinction—as became a Kingsnorth—and looked coldly out at the world from behind the impenetrable barriers of an old name. When she married Frederick Chichester, the rising barrister, connected with six county families, it was a proud day for old Kingsnorth. His family had originally made their money in trade. The Chlchesters had accumulated a fortune by professions. The distinction in England is marked. Frederick Chichester came of a long line of illustrious lawyers. One had even reached the distinction of being made a judge. He belonged to an honorable profession. The old man was overjoyed. He made a handsome settlement on his eldest daughter on her marriage and felt he had done well by her, even as she had by him. Five years after Monica’s birth Angela unexpectedly was born to the Kingsnorths. A delicate, sickly infant, it seemed as if the splendid blood of the family had expended its vigor on the elder children. Angela needed con-

stant attention to keep her alive. From tremulous infancy she grew into delicate youth. She seemed a child apart Not needing her, Kingsnorth did not love her. He gave her a form of tolerant affection. Too fragile to mix with others, she was brought up at home. Tutors furnished her education. The winters she passed abroad with her mother. When her mother died she spent them with relations or friends. The grim dampness of the English climate was too rigorous for a life that needed sunshine. Angela had nothing in common with either her brother or her sister. She avoided them and they her. They did not understand her. She understood them only too well. A nature that craved for sympathy and affection—as the frail so often do—was repulsed by those to whom affection was but a form and sympathy a term of reproach. It was on her first homecoming since her mother’s death that her at tention was really drawn to her fathcr’s Irish possessions. By a curious coincidence she returned home on a day when Wilberforce Klngsnorth. had delivered an electrical speech, invoking Providence to interpose in the settlement of the Irish difficulty. He was noted for his hatred of conversation throughout dinner.' And

it was during that dinner that Angela for the first time really angered her father and raised a barrier between them that lasted until the day of his death. The old man bad laughed coarsely at the remembrance of his speech on the previous night and licked his lips at the thought of it. Monica, who was visiting her father for a few days, smiled in agreeable sympathy. Nathaniel nodded cheerfully. From her father's side Angela asked quietly; “Have you ever been in Ireland, father?” ’ “No, I have not,” answered the old man sharply. “And, What is more. I never Intend to go there.” “Do you know anything about the Irish?” persisted Angela, “Do I? More than the English government does. Don’t I own land there?” “I mean do you know anything about the people?” insisted Angela. “I know them to be a lot of thieving, rascally scoundrels, too lazy to work and too dishonest to pay their way even when they have the money.” “Is that all you know?” “Isn’t it enough?” His voice rose shrilly. It was the first time for years any ope had dared use those two hated words “Ireland” and “Irish” at his table. Angela must be checked and at once. “It wouldn’t be enough for me if I had the responsibilities and duties of a landlord. To be the owner of an estate should be to act as the people’s friend, their father, their adviser in times of plenty and their comrade In times of sorrow.” “Indeed! And pray where did you learn all that miss?” asked the astonished parent. Without noticing the interruption or the question, Angela went on: “Why deny a country its own government when England is practically governed by its countrymen? Is there any position of prominence today in England that isn’t filled by Irishmen? Think! Our commander in chief is Irish; our lord high admiral is Irish; there are the defenses of the English in the hands of two Irishmen, and yet you i call them thieving and rascally scoundrels!” ’ ; Kingsnorth tried to speak; Angela raised her voice: “Turn to your judges—the lord chief is an Irishman. Look at the house of commons. Our laws are passed or defeated by the Irish vote, and yet so blindly ignorant and obstinate is our insular prejudice that we refuse them the favors they do us—governing themi selves as well as England.” I Kingsnorth looked at his daughter . aghast Treason in bls own house! | His child speaking the two most bated of all words at his own dinner table and in laudatory terms! He could ' scarcely believe it. He looked at her ; a moment and then thundered: “How dare you! How dare you!” Angela smiled a little amusedly toli erant smile as she looked frankly at her father and answered: “This is exactly the old fashioned tone we English take to anything we don’t understand. And that is why other countries are leaving us in the race. There is a nation living within a few hours’ journey from our doors, yet millions of English people are as ignorant of them as if they lived, in Senegambla.” She paused, looked once more 'straight into her father’s eyes and said, “And you, father, seem to be as ignorant as the worst of them!” “Angela!” cried her sister in horror. Nathaniel toughed good naturedly, leaned across to Angela and said: “I see our little sister has been reading the sensational magazines. Yes?” “I’ve done more than that,” replied Angela. “In Nice a month ago were two English members of parliament who had taken the trouble to visit the country they were supposed to assist in governing. They told me that a condition of misery existed throughout the whole of Ireland that was Incredible under a civilized government.” “Radicals, eh?" snapped her father. “No; Conservatives. One of them had once held the office of chief secretary for Ireland and was Ireland’s most bitter prosecutor until he visited the country. When he saw the wretchedness of her people he stopped his stringent methods and began casting about for some way of lessening the floor people’s torment." “The more shame to him to talk like that to a girl. And, what’s more, you had no right to listen to him. t A Conservative indeed! A fine one he must be!” “He Is. 1 don’t see why the Liberal party should have all the enlightenment and the Conservative party all the bigotry.” “Don’t anger your father!” pleaded Monica. “Why, little Angela has come back to us quite a revolutionary,” said Nathaniel. “Leave the table!” shouted her father. Without a word Angela got up quietly and left the room. Her manner wag unmoved. She had spoken from her Inmost convictions. The fact that they were opposed to her father was Immaterial. She loathed tyranny, and his method of shutting the mouths of those who disagreed with him was particularly obnoxious to her. It was also most ineffectual with her. From childhood she had always spoken as she felt. No discipline checked her. Freedom of speech as well as freedom of thought" was afl natural and essential to her as breathing. From that time she saw but little of her father. When he died he left her to her brother’s care. Klngsnorth made no absolute provision for her. She was to be dependent on Nathaniel.

When the time came that she seemed to wish to marry, if her brother approved of the match, lie should make a handsome settlement on her. In response to her request Nathaniel allowed her to go with him to Ireland on his tour of Inspection. Mr. Chichester was actively engaged at the Old Bailey on an important criminal case, so Monica also joined them. Everything Angela saw in Ireland appealed to her quick sympathy aud gentle heart. It was just as she had thought and read and listened to. On every side she saw a kindly people borne down by the weight of poverty, lives ruined by sickness and the lack of nourishment—a splendid race perishing through misgovernment and intolerant ignorance. Angela went about among the peo pie and made friends with them. They were chary at first of taking her to their hearts. She was of the hated Saxon race. What was she doing there—she, the sister of their, till now, absentee landlord? She soon won them over by her appealing voice and kindly Interest. All this Angela did in direct opposition to her brother’s wishes and her sister’s exhortations. The morning of the meeting she had ridden some miles to visit a poor family. Out of five three were In bed with low fever. She got a doctor for them, gave them money to buy necessaries, and, with a promise to return' the next day, she rode away. When within some little distance of tier brother’s bouse she saw a steady, irregular stream of people climbing a great hill. She rode toward it and, screened by a clump of trees, saw and heard her first “home rule’’ meeting. When Frank O’Connell first spoke his voice thrilled her. Gradually the excitement of the people under the mastery of his power communicated itself to her. It pulsed In her blood and throbbed In her brain. For the first time she realized what a marvelous force was the call of the patriot To listen and watch a man risking life and liberty in the cause of his country—her heart and her mind and her soul went out to him. When the soldiers marched on to the scene she was paralyzed with fear. When an order to fire was given she wanted to ride Into their midst and cry out to them to stop. But she was unable to move -hand or foot “ When the smoke had thinned and she saw lying motionless on the ground the bodies of men who a moment before had been full of life and strength; when was added to that the horror of the wounded crying* out with pain, her first impulse was to fly from the sight of the carnage. She mastered that moment of fear and plunged forward, calling to the groom to follow her. She ordered the body of O’Connell, who had been hit, taken to her own home. The long, slow, tortuous journey home, the men slowly fellowing with the ghastly, mute body on the rude Utter, became a living memory to her fox all the remainder of her Us»

She glanced down every little while at the stone white face and shuddered as she found herself wondering If she would ever hear his voice again or see those great blue eyes flash with his fierce courage and devotion. As they neared her brother's house stragglers began to follow curiously. Sad looking men and weary women joined the procession wouderlngly. AU guessed it was some fresh outrage of the soldiers. It seemed to Angela that an Infinity of time had passed before they entered the grounds attached to the Kingsnorth house. She sent a man on ahead to order a room to be prepared aiyl a doctor sent for. As she saw her brother coming forward to meet her with knit brows and stern eyes she nerved herself to greet him. “What Is this, Angela?” he asked, looking in amazement at the strange procession. “Another martyr to our Ignorant government, Nathaniel,” and she pressed on through the drive to the house. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“Not tor the wurrld.”