Good on you, Judy.
Bless my beads, it's the good Father.
- Congratulations, Judy. - How about a kiss for Miss Gilly?
Come on, give me something to confess on Sunday.
I mustn't make my best girl jealous, now, must I?
Around and around she goes...
the Wheel of Fortune. Step right up.
Make way. Coming through.
All right. Have yourselves a good time...
but stay out of the pub.
Thanks, Daddy. Let's go find Pete and unload the rams.
Here, son.
- Daddy! Frank! - Meggie, me love!
Hello. Look at you in your uniform.
Where's Stuie? Where's Mom?
With the baby due so soon, we thought Mom best not travel.
Stuie stayed home with her.
Come here. Stuie's been aching to see you.
Never mind. We'll buy him something nice with this money, all right?
Hello, Aunt Mary.
- Father. - Mary, you're looking splendid.
Will you be staying over?
I'd rather hoped you'd invite me to stay at the rectory.
- You could stay in my room. - Your room?
- I thought you were at the convent. - No.
Father Ralph gave me my very own room right next to his.
You're very welcome to stay.
My housekeeper will be happy to share her room with Meggie tonight.
No, thank you. I wouldn't want to disturb all your little...
arrangements.
Nice bit of riding, Alastair.
- Congratulations, that's a fine horse. - Thank you, Mary.
Angus, this is my brother, Paddy Cleary.
- Angus MacQueen and his son Alastair. - How do you do, sir?
This is my aunt, Sarah MacQueen.
- Mr. Cleary, ma'am. - Hello.
Sarah, how is Melbourne these days?
I hardly know...
I've been in Palm Beach most of the season.
And then, Hawaii. Of course, one longs for the Continent...
but it's still impossibly depressing since the War.
Paddy, would you get me some more champagne, please.
Excuse me, ma'am.
Sorry, ma'am.
As it turned out, they were all six of them.
You look as though you could use a real drink.
- Hello, Mr. Gough. - None of that "Mr. Gough" stuff.
- Harry to you. - Well, Harry then.
I'm feeling a proper fool and that's the truth.
If Fee was here, she could hold her own with this lot, but I'm...
Our squatters like to lay it on, don't they? Hoity-toity.
Helps them forget their grandfathers were burned in the hand...
and sent here in prisoner ships. But you should get used to them.
You'll be leader of the whole flock one day.
Don't tell me.
Let's get cracking while the pub's still open. We close early these days.
- I'd like to, but Mary wanted some... - Champagne for Mrs. Carson.
Be grateful we don't have Prohibition like the Yanks.
Here it is, gents, Jimmy Sharman's famous boxing troupe.
The world's greatest fighters.
Plus a purse to be had by any chap brave enough to have a go.
Look, they're in their drawers.
Come on, step right up. Five minutes before fight time!
Come on lads. Who'll take it for a fiver? Last chance.
Here we go! Five minutes left before the fight.
Come on lads. Who wants to win a five? Look at their size, you can do it.
- I will. - You will? Come right up!
Frank, no.
We have a taker. A brave lad. Come on, step up here, sir.
Here's a pair of gloves for you.
What are you laughing at? It's not the size of the dog in the fight...
but the size of the fight in the dog. Is that right?
Come on, go right inside.
- Come along, Meggie. - No. I wanna stay.
I can't let you. Your father would flay me alive, and rightly. Come along.
I wanna stay with Frank!
Buy your lady some fish and chips and a glass of ale.
What do you have to lose? You work harder on the farm.
Come on, let's go.
This brave young lad is Frank Cleary.
Break!
Look, I won. I fought four fights, and I won.
It was too scary.
You didn't let her see it, did you?
Short of binding and gagging the child, I couldn't see how to keep her away.
Don't be angry. She's been upset enough already.
You mustn't ever let Daddy know you were there...
you understand me?
You really won?
Frank, didn't you hear me shouting after you?
You were supposed to meet...
Dear God, look at him, will you.
I'm searching all over for you, and you're off picking fights again.
Not fighting. Boxing.
I beat four of Jimmy Sharman's champions.
Champions. A bunch of punch-drunk old has-beens...
from a country show.
I made myself £20. That's more than Aunt Mary pays you in a month.
£20 and the respect of every man present.
Respect!
Why don't you grow up? For your mother's sake if nothing else.
For her sake? You stinking old he-goat.
After what you've done to her. You couldn't leave her alone.
- Couldn't keep your hands off her. - Don't you speak to me like that.
I'm her husband.
You're nothing better than a ram in rut is what you are.
You're no better than the bastard who fathered you, whoever he was.
God. I didn't mean that, Frank.
Frank, I didn't mean that.
You meant it.
Let me go, Father. I won't touch him, so help me God.
So help you God.
God rot your souls, both of you. If you've ruined that child, I'll kill you.
I should've let you kill each other, you miserable self-centered cretins.
Son...
what I said, it's not true.
No.
I've always felt it.
I've always known that you came after me...
that she was mine first.
I've always blamed you for dragging her down all these years.
It was me.
No, Frank.
It's not your fault.
Sometimes, God's ways are hard for us to understand.
Your preaching makes me want to puke!
Never mind.
Never mind. I'm going. And I won't be back.
You can't go away.
What'll I tell your mother?
You mean more to her than all the rest of us put together.
She'd never forgive me.
God in heaven, Paddy.
What possessed you to tell him?
God. Why aren't you older so that I could explain this to you.
Meggie.
Twerp.
That argument that Daddy and I had...
is just a kind of a sign that it's time for me to be going on my own.
But you mustn't tell Mom about it, do you hear?
Aren't you going to tell Mom goodbye?
I'll write to her. She'll understand.
Where are you going, Frank?
You know the money I won for boxing.
The man who owns the whole troupe, Jimmy Sharman...
he wants me to be one of his regular fighters.
- Really? - Think of that.
I'll travel around the whole country and see things you've never dreamed of.
I wish you'd take me with you.
Will you, Frank?
No. What kind of life would that be for you?
You must stay here and learn to be a great lady.
Because you know something?
You're going to be all grown up sooner than you know.
Why don't you love me anymore?
- I do love you, Meggie. - No, you don't.
- You wouldn't leave me if you did. - My darling Meggie.
No one will ever love you more than I.
Frank!
I was the dairy hand.
I used to see Fee in the distance walking with Frank.
He was only a baby then.
Then one day, old Roderick Armstrong came to see me.
He said his daughter had disgraced the family.
They wanted to send her away but the grandmother wouldn't hear of it.
Now the old lady was dying, there was nothing to stop them.
He said...
if I'd marry Fee, take her away...
they'd pay me enough money to set us up.
So you married a lady far above you?
But it wasn't the money, Father.
She was so beautiful.
I wanted to see her safe and not abused.
To me she's beautiful still.
She is indeed.
And in Meggie, I can see what she must've been like then.
Yeah.
I was frightened to death of her at first.
It took me two years to get up enough courage...
to be a proper husband to her.
I love her so much, Father.
I know she's never had that feeling for me.
Not even in the most private moments of our lives together.
But never once in all these years has she ever...
complained or cried...
or laughed.
How's Meggie?
Father, what in heaven's name happened here today?
Father, promise you won't ever leave me.
Darling Meggie.
- Meggie, Frank had to leave. - Why?
Because it hurt him too much to stay.
It'll hurt more without Mom and me...
because we're the ones who love him.
For each of us, there comes a time...
when he must search for the thing he thinks he needs above all else.
No matter what it costs.
You mean the thing that'll make him happy?
Happy.
There's a story...
a legend...
about a bird that sings just once in its life.
From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree...
and never rests until it's found one. And then it sings...
more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth.
And singing...
it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn.
But as it dies...
it rises above its own agony...
to out-sing the lark and the nightingale.
The thorn bird pays its life...
for just one song...
but the whole world stills to listen.
And God in his heaven smiles.
What does it mean, Father?
That the best...
is bought only at the cost of great...
pain.
Thank you, Meggie. What a pleasure having you do that for me.
I think from now on I'll call you "Our Lady of the Gates."
How many wretched gates are there between Gillanbone and Drogheda?
- Twenty-seven, Father. - Twenty-seven.
And that means one has to stop and get out...
how many times?
- Fifty-four, Father. - Well done.
Fifty-four times coming and fifty-four times going.
Now, if a priest were to travel between Gilly and Drogheda...
to see his favorite person, say, once each month...
how many times would he have to stop and get out during one year's time?
It's all right, Father.
With the baby to take care of, I'll be too busy to miss school.
Sometimes I long to throw open all those gates...
and race down the road and never stop.
Just leave all 27 of them gaping open...
like astonished mouths behind me.
Goodbye, Father.
Hello, Mom.
Hello, Meggie.
Mom, Hal's beautiful.
Father de Bricassart, how very nice to see you again.
Why did you do it, Mary?
When the dress on your back could pay her tuition for the rest of the year!
Ralph, I don't believe I've ever seen you so...
impassioned.
I thought it best to take Meghann out of school.
Fee is not well. She needs the help.
Why do you dislike Meggie so much?
She's a beautiful, intelligent little girl...
and yet no one seems to give a rap about her!
Which means you can be sure of her love.
And it's all so innocent and so safe for you, isn't it?
No danger to your reputation...
no threat to those not-so-holy ambitions of yours.
Mary, this is unworthy even of you.
I am, after all, a priest.
You are a man first, Ralph de Bricassart.
No, Mary. A priest.
First, last...
and always.
Coming along beautifully, Meggie.
This time next year, you'll be ready for the horse trials at the Gilly fair.
But then, Father, by this time next year, you could be in Rome.
Poor little Hal. I think he's a mite feverish, Meggie.
Mrs. Smith, please take the children...
in the kitchen for tea.
You have heard the news?
The Pope has decided that Australia should have its very own cardinal.
I didn't know you stay current with church politics.
But it's so intriguing, don't you think? His Holiness is sending a papal legate...
to search the length and breadth of this land...
to find a man worthy enough to wear the biretta.
Now, that's like Cinderella.
Mary, much as I love sparring with you, it's time we made a truce.
A truce?
The priest confesses.
It's true I once had ambitions. Great ambitions...
which I thwarted by my own stupid lack of humility.
Then I was sent here.
Here you were. A good Catholic, with Drogheda and no heirs...
or so I thought.
And you thought, "My ticket to the Vatican."
Put with typical cruelty but perhaps not undeserved.
The point is, I've changed...
and it's largely you I have to thank for it.
Me?
When you made the Clearys your heirs, you dashed all my hopes, as you intended.
But it freed me, too, from all my old desires.
Mary, I'm a priest. Only that.
- And content. - Bravo, Ralph.
I can't remember when I've enjoyed a performance more.
"All my old desires." That is wonderful.
I'll let you stew a while longer...
but your day of reckoning is coming. Don't you ever doubt it.
How you do love the illusion of your own power.
- Don't make me pity you. - Pity me?
Do you doubt I can't make you writhe yet?
Do you think I can't make you sell yourself like a painted whore...
before I'm finished with you?
I don't doubt you'll try, but take care.
In trying so hard to destroy my soul, you may lose your own.
- Lf there's still one there to lose. - Or still one there to destroy!
In a Christian country, all this commotion would mean rain.
Those grazing lands are dry as chips.
Not a mouthful of grass anywhere.
I reckon we'll be lucky lads if this lightning doesn't set the range aflame.
Did I ever really say Drogheda was heaven? Good night.
Daddy, come on. Little Hal is very sick.
- It's very bad, Paddy. - For God's sake, someone get a doctor!
I phoned from Aunt Mary's. He's all the way out to Dibben-Dibben.
Bob, get some more sulfur from the storehouse, will you?
"May Christ receive thee who hath called thee...
"and may the angels bear thee unto Abraham's bosom."
Meggie, what is it?
I'm all right.
But you're not. Just talk to me.
There's nothing wrong. Leave me alone!
She's doing it again, Father.
She's been like this ever since little Hal died.
I know. She won't talk to me, either.
We can't let this go on.
Meggie.
Meggie, listen to me.
You've got to stop this.
I know how much you loved Hal, but you can't go on grieving this way.
Meggie, please.
You're wasting away before my very eyes. I can't bear it!
Father, you make me so ashamed.
It's not Hal.
- I mean, I do miss him, but... - What, then? Are you sick?
- I can't tell you. - You can tell me anything.
That's what I'm here for.
I'm a priest and I love you just the way God loves you, wee Meggie.
Father...
I'm dying.
- Dying? - Just like Hal.
Only it's some kind of tumor or something, Father.
How do you know this, dear heart?
I get the most awful pains, Father.
And then, there's a lot of blood.
But it's not all the time.
- Just every month or so? - Yes.
How did you know that?
My precious girl...
you're not dying. You're growing up.
Sorry your mom didn't explain all this to you.
- She should have, you know. - You mean Mom does it, too?
All healthy women do, Meggie. Except when they're expecting a baby...
and then it's needed to nourish the baby inside their womb.
- You understand? - Sort of.
Like when it says, "Blessed be the fruit of thy womb, Jesus"?
That's right.
Do you know...
- what makes babies? - Of course, Father.
It comes from mating, like the rams and the ewes.
I've tried to watch them, but Daddy said I mustn't.
But I've heard the boys talking.
- Isn't that right, Father? - Yes, but...
See, Meggie, it's very different with people.
Or it should be. Because God intended, I think...
that when a man and a woman mate, they do it...
as a way of showing their love for each other.
So it's a mating not just of bodies but of souls.
- It must be so wonderful. - So I understand.
- Will it be that way for you and me? - What?
When I grow up and we get married.
Meggie, you know priests can't marry.
- You can always stop being a priest. - No.
No, Meggie darling. I can never stop being a priest.
Not ever.
- What about those tarts you promised me? - Yes, come on.
Father, I'm so glad I'm not dying.
- What would I ever do without you? - Silly, you'll never be without me.
What would her majesty be wanting with me at this late day?
Heaven knows. Still a thousand things to do, and the guests are almost upon us.
I'll take that, Judy. I'm going up anyway.
Come in.
Happy birthday, ma'am. And if we aren't a picture today.
Thank you, Pete.
But birthdays at our ages are rather a mixed blessing, aren't they?
What is that?
I was just taking it along to Meggie. I thought you wouldn't mind...
if the Clearys dressed here...
so as they wouldn't be dust to the waist from walking.
Good.
That's a pretty color for Meghann. What do you call it?
Ashes of Roses, ma'am. It's quite the thing just now.
You will help her dress this evening.
We want her to look absolutely irresistible.
Has Father de Bricassart arrived yet?
No, not yet. But your lawyer, Mr. Gough, is here.
Good.
Now, I want you both to watch me sign this paper...
and then I want you to put your names beneath mine.
- You can write, can't you, Pete? - I can manage a little bit.
Fine.
It's just that you are a witness...
that this is indeed my signature...
in case there's ever a question.
Good.
- And please send Harry Gough to me. - Yes, ma'am.
I'll fetch Mr. Gough.
Why, Mrs. Cleary, you look stunning.
Thank you.
For once, Mary's opened her wallet wide enough to let the moths fly out.
She doesn't want her poor relations shaming her on her 75th birthday.
I best get this to Meggie or she'll be late.
Fee.
Why, Paddy...
you look like a diplomat.
Do I?
I feel like an undertaker.
But you...
You look just grand.
Harry, doesn't she look grand?
My dear Fee, you look like the lady of the manor.
Is that a legal opinion, Mr. Gough?
- Help me with these, will you? - Yes.
I think they'll do, even if they're not quite real.
Never you mind.
Some day I'm going to buy you the finest strand of pearls in all Australia.
Really, it's astonishing how few interesting men there are since the War.
And that's been 10 years. I mean, virtually one's whole life.
They're either doddering or else they're mere children.
Where on earth has Meggie got to?
Mrs. Smith says she's about got her ready.
- That's Stuart Cleary. - Little Stuie Cleary?
Honestly, Lucy. Not bad looking, I suppose...
but such a rube like all those Clearys.
Still, he might do for you.
And of course, they'll be frightfully rich when she goes.
- Father. - Happy birthday, Mary.
How delightful you look, like a young girl.
You've outdone yourself. This must be the finest party in the district in 50 years.
Easily. I hope you're staying over...
because I've planned some real festivities for tomorrow.
I'd be delighted.
- Harry. - Hello, Father.
- Father, what a delight to see you. - Good evening, Miss Carmichael.
But you've been dreadfully neglectful, you know.
Mother was just saying the other day...
that you haven't been to Beel-Beel for the longest time.
Thank you.
- Hello, Alastair. - How are you fellows this evening?
Paddy, you remember my sister, Sarah.
Yes, of course. But I don't know if you've met my wife, Fiona.
Heavens, I would never have dreamed you were Paddy's wife.
Sarah just returned from the States.
My dears, you can't imagine what the Crash has done.
Wall Street is a shambles.
People throwing themselves out of windows.
That can't happen here. Not with the wool market we've got.
Do you realize how much this country exported last year?
Good Lord. Who is that?
Excuse me.
- Meggie, you're so beautiful. - Thanks, Stuie.
I give you Mary Carson.
A dear and generous sister, a great lady...
and queen of this beautiful land of Drogheda.
May she reign forever.
Thank you all. And thank you, Paddy, for your words and wishes.
But no one reigns forever.
The time is coming when I must pass the reign of Drogheda on to someone else.
As we all know, those of us who have lived here...
and fought the drought and the floods, and the heat and the cold, and yet...
have managed to prosper...
and become masters of all we survey.
This land can be a heaven...
or a hell.
My fondest wishes for those who come after me...
is that it be far more one...
than the other.
- Dance with me, Mary. - No, Father. I'm too decrepit.
Nonsense. I insist.
That was a beautiful speech, Mary. You made Paddy very happy.
I truly wonder if she isn't getting a bit senile.
I mean, tricked out exactly like a bride.
So grossly unsuitable.
Someone should've told her she looks like death in white.
Beauty and the Beast.
He's grinning at her like he didn't care she left that lot to those Clearys.
Of course, he's too holy for filthy lucre and suchlike anyhow, isn't he?
Of course, it does make those Cleary boys more interesting.
- She's a grand old girl, Paddy. - Aye, that she is.
By the by, I've been meaning to ask...
Mary usually chairs the race committee for the Gilly show...
but I wonder if you might be interested in doing the honors this year...
as she's declined.
Thank you, Angus.
- What's the matter? Are you all right? - Yes, I'm all right.
Let's let others have a chance.
- Of course. - Please dance.
Cynthia.
I never supposed we could still dance together, Fee.
How long has it been, do you think?
It's been 30 years in January.
- Now, how can you remember that? - I remember it very well.
We went to the Century Ball in Wahine on New Year's Eve.
Frank was just a baby.
Good evening, Meggie. Will you dance with me?
Thank you, Alastair.
I don't know how to dance.
It's awfully hot for dancing, anyway.
- Perhaps you'd care for some punch? - Yes, thank you.
Look at the boys, will you. Standing around shy as kangas.
It's my fault. I should've taught them a few of the social graces:
How to dance, what to say to a girl.
There's been little time for anything but hard work all these years.
We're just beginning to realize how many changes there will be in our lives.
Will it make you happy, Paddy, being rich?
I could never be a rich man, Fee. Not if I was to have a million pounds.
I wouldn't know how to be.
It's knowing that you'll be living the way you always should have...
that you'll take your place again.
That's what makes me happy.
Father Ralph, about the bingo. Patricia wants to put in...
I must take exception to it. If we could have a little talk...
Father?
- Are you enjoying the party? - Meggie, yes.
Are you?
Yes, it's a lovely party.
Excuse me, Meggie.
She is lovely, isn't she?
There's not a man in this room...
who wouldn't give up everything just to have her, is there?
Now, Mary, you're baiting me again.
Not one man, except perhaps you.
Once, a long time ago, I offered you a chance at the cardinal's robe...
and you turned me down.
But I wonder, if you had to choose between Meggie...
and the cardinal's robe...
which would you choose?
Mary, what would I have done without you these past years?
Your wit, perception...
your malice.
Father, why don't you want to be with me?
Talk to me.
Is there something wrong?
You look lovely, Meggie.
So grown up.
I have to speak to the MacQueens.
Meggie.
What a sweet dress.
Thank you, Miss Carmichael.
Mrs. Smith made it for me. I helped a little.
Did you?
I'm sure I haven't seen anything like it in the fashion pages.
You know, I keep expecting to see you at the horse trials.
Ralph tells me you might become quite an able rider one day.
Some people are saying that it isn't quite the thing for him...
to be spending so much time in Drogheda.
It's splendid of Ralph to take such an interest in you Clearys.
Ralph, you haven't danced with me all evening.
You must do the black bottom with me.
You always do it so well.
Look, everyone, Father's going to do the Black Bottom.
Father, it's time for me to go up.
Please, everybody. It's almost dawn, but please stay and enjoy yourselves.
Good night, Mary.
- Will you see me up the stairs? - Of course.
Good night. It's been a wonderful party, Mary.
Yes, hasn't it?
It was a wonderful party, Mary. And I hope, a wonderful birthday for you.
My last. I'm tired of living. I'm going to stop.
Fiddlesticks. You're planning something special for tomorrow.
- You told me so yourself. - Yes, I remember.
But I won't see you.
Kiss me goodbye, Ralph.
Mary, good night. Sleep well.
No! On my mouth.
Kiss me on my mouth as if we were lovers!
- Mary, I am a priest. - A priest! You're not a man nor a priest.
You're some impotent, useless thing that doesn't know how to be either!
You're wrong, Mary. I know how to be a man.
But to be a man on your terms is to be no priest.
And I have chosen to be a priest.
With the free will God has given us...
and with that same free will, I have chosen to destroy you, Priest.
I'll go to hell for it, of course...
but it'll be nothing to the hell I'm planning for you.
It's yourself you'll destroy with this everlasting hatred of yours.
When Satan tempted Christ with the whole world...
is it because he hated him or because he loved him?
- You don't love me. - I have always loved you!
So much so, I would've killed you for not wanting me!
But I found a better method.
No, not love.
I'm the goad of your old age, that's all.
A reminder of what you can no longer be.
Let me tell you something, Cardinal de Bricassart...
about old age and about that God of yours.
That vengeful God who ruins our bodies...
and leaves us with only enough wit for regret.
Inside this stupid body, I am still young!
I still feel! I still want!
I still dream!
And I still love you!
Oh, God, how much!
Meggie!
Meggie.
Meggie darling, don't cry.
Here.
Here now, dry your eyes like a good girl.
I don't want it! I'm not a child anymore.
Why don't you just go back to your dancing?
I know you're not a child.
Anyone can see you've grown into a beautiful young woman.
You were by far the loveliest girl at the party tonight.
But that's just the problem.
They all know I come to Drogheda more often than I need.
If I'd paid you a skerrick of attention tonight...
it would've been all over the district in record time.
Don't you see?
- No, I don't see. - I think you do.
Come here.
Come on.
Now, Meggie.
We've been over this before.
What you mustn't do is get in the habit of dreaming about me...
in some sort of romantic fashion.
When you're a woman, you'll meet the man destined to be your husband.
Then you'll be far too busy getting on with your life to think about me...
except as an old friend...
who helped you through some of the bad times of growing up.
All right, my Meggie?
Yes, Father.
I understand.
Come on.
- What are you thinking, Father? - Just about the land.
That it's so beautiful, so pure...
and so indifferent to the fates of the creatures who presume to rule it.
And what are you thinking, my dearest Meggie?
Just that I wish the sun would never come up.
We could stay like this forever.
- Father! - What is it, Mrs. Smith?
It's Mrs. Carson, Father. She's dead.
Mrs. Smith, we'll have to hold the funeral right away, with this heat.
Yes, Father.
I've sent Pete down for Paddy and I've telephoned to the others.
Many of them haven't even reached home yet from the party, though.
- Father. - Harry, you've heard?
It's terrible. Terrible.
Father, I must speak to you.
- Can it wait? I have some arrangements... - Mary's orders. Please.
Fancy the old monster popping off like that to spite God and all?
She probably did herself in.
Unless it was the devil doing us all a favor.
Crying shame all the ice got used up last night.
I have here Mary's will. As you've probably guessed...
she left everything to Paddy and his family.
She did leave a bit to the Church and some to you.
Shouldn't the Clearys be here?
Yes, we'll have the reading later, after the funeral.
Mary gave this to me last night before the party.
I was to read it to you the moment I learnt of her death.
Of course, I had no idea then...
Good Lord. It's a new will...
dated yesterday.
But why would she make it without me?
"I, Mary Elizabeth Carson et cetera...
"bequeath all my worldly goods to the Holy Catholic Church of Rome...
"on the condition that she show appreciation...
"of the worth and ability of her servant...
"Father Ralph de Bricassart...
"and that said Father Ralph de Bricassart...
"serve as the chief authority in charge of my estate."
Congratulations, Father.
You got the lot after all. All £13 million of it.
£13 million? I...
But what about the Clearys?
They get to stay on as managers.
Decent of her not to throw them out entirely.
And there's £10,000 a year for your personal use...
and a note to you.
"My dear Ralph, how do you like my new will?
"Of course, you can destroy it if you wish.
"It's the only copy, and my lawyer will never tell.
"No one will be the wiser, and Meggie will be...
"the richer, won't she?
"But I know what you'll do.
"I know it as surely as if I could be there watching...
"when they give you that red robe and miter."
Father, listen.
There's no denying it was Mary's property...
to dispose of in any manner she wished, and I'm not a Catholic, so forgive me.
But we both know the Church has no right to the estate.
Please, let's just destroy this.
Let poor old Paddy and his family have what's rightfully theirs.
- It's so awful. - Paddy, I'm so sorry.
My poor sister. I can't believe it.
What are we going to do?
I don't know what we're going to do.
We gather here...
shocked and saddened by the sudden death of our friend Mary Carson.
Yet we take comfort in the knowledge that in her last hour she was not alone.
Not the greatest nor humblest living being dies alone...
for in the hour of our death, our Lord Jesus Christ is with us...
within us, and death is sweet.
We all know what Mary was.
A pillar of the community. A pillar of the Church.
And it was the Church she loved more than any living being...
for she understood so well the words of St. Matthew:
"Where your treasure is...
"there will be your heart also."
Let us pray for her immortal soul...
that she, whom we loved in life...
will enjoy her just and eternal reward.
And as we pray, let us remember that our Lord is rich in mercy.
And let us not forget...
that we are dust...
and unto dust we shall return.
"By my hand, this 24th day of November...
"in the Year of our Lord, 1929...
"Mary Elizabeth Carson, née Cleary."
Yesterday.
I won't deny it's a bit of a disappointment.
- Paddy, I want you to contest. - That wouldn't be right.
It was her money, wasn't it?
If she wanted to leave it to the Church...
And then, 13 million quid...
I wouldn't know how to look after that kind of money.
You don't understand, Paddy.
There are already hundreds of people employed to look after it for you.
Please contest.
I'll get you the best KCs in the country.
We'll fight it all the way to the Privy Council, if necessary.
What do you think?
But we can live on Drogheda anyway and have this house.
Isn't that what the will says?
No one can turn you off Drogheda so long as one of your father's grandchildren lives.
What more do we want?
Damn.
I hate to see you cheated.
Fee, I don't know what to do.
All the things I wanted for you.
I don't want Mary's 13 million pieces of silver.
Well, that settles it.
No, thank you.
- I think it's time we were going. - They're reading the will.
You don't think I'm going to leave until I've seen their faces, do you?
Sometimes, I think you lack human feeling.
Paddy is very grieved about Mary's death.
Still, what is the harm in congratulating him?
Here they come.
My condolences.
Father.
Please don't think there are any hard feelings on our side.
Mary was never swayed by another human being in all her life...
brother or priest.
If she left it to the Church, it was because you were mighty good to her.
You've been mighty good to us, as well...
and we'll never forget that.
Thank you, Paddy.
Poor Paddy.
The old bitch.
Father?
Father, what is it?
She's won, Meggie.
I've betrayed you.
- Betrayed me? - She knew me so well.
She knew if she stripped you of everything, I'd have no choice. But no.
She made sure you'd neither want for anything nor have anything, either.
All your life, you'll have to look to me.
I don't understand.
You'll be respectable, even socially admissible...
but you'll never quite be "Miss Cleary." Never quite be one of them.
I don't want to be one of them.
Be stupid and vicious and cruel like Miss Carmichael.
- How could you even think of that, Father? - Meggie, don't call me Father.
I'll be going away, Meggie, soon.
Why?
Don't you see?
It's part of her plan.
I brought in £13 million.
And a holy priest who's brought in £13 million...
will not be left to languish here in the back of beyond.
The Church knows how to reward its own.
No.
My Meggie...
it's better this way.
How can it be better...
to take away what I love most in the world?
Then better for me.
Better than someday having to marry you to somebody else.
Better than staying here to watch you change into something I can never have.
Maggie, when I saw you last night, I almost hated you.
Hated me?
- For growing up? - Yes.
When you were a little girl, you were like my own child to me.
You were the rose of my life.
- I could have you then. - You can have me now.
You can marry me. You love me.
But I love God more.
I do love you, Meggie. I always will.
But I can't be a husband to you.
If only I could make you understand what being a priest means to me.
How God fills a need in me no human being ever could.
Not even me?
I can't!
Goodbye, my Meggie.
Father!
Go on, then.
Go on to that God of yours.
But you'll come back to me...
because I'm the one who loves you.
The saga continues...
as a way of life is threatened.
And forbidden love is given...
You've come back.
... then taken away.
My life belongs to God.
And new desires are ignited...
He was a fool to let you go.
... while ambition lights the road to Rome.
The Thorn Birds continues.
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