Original subtitles

From the raw Australia of the 1900s...

comes a turbulent saga that spans the decades...

in Colleen McCullough's best selling novel.

The Thorn Birds.

I'll never have what I want.

The story of a priest driven by ambition.

Never be what I want!

Tormented by desire.

And I don't know how to stop...

wanting.

Hello, I'm Father de Bricassart. You'd be Mary Carson's brother?

That's right, Father.

From the moment he saw her, he knew...

-And who are you? -I'm Meggie.

...he would love her forever.

I give you Mary Carson.

The richest woman in Australia, and the loneliest.

Shoot them, Frank.

You are the most beautifuI man I have ever seen, RaIph de Bricassart.

I thought it was my souI you were after, Mary.

Why do you tug so at my heart? Why do you fill that space...

God can't fill?

When you were a IittIe girI, you were Iike my own chiId to me.

-I couId have you then. -You can have me now.

You can marry me.

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 pIanning for you.

ln the years that followed, no one could stir Meggie's heart.

No one till a rover named Luke O'Neill.

God, you are beautifuI.

Marry me, Meghann.

The story that travels around the world...

from the Vatican to the Australian outback.

From the islands of Greece to London.

I've tried so hard to get her out of my heart.

The saga that spans half a century...

echoing through three generations.

Starring Richard Kiley, Jean Simmons, Ken Howard, Mare Winningham...

Philip Anglim, Christopher Plummer, Bryan Brown, Barbara Stanwyck...

Rachel Ward, and Richard Chamberlain.

A love unattainable...

forbidden forever. The Thorn Birds.

Good day, Father de Bricassart.

-Happy Christmas to you. -The same to you, Mrs. Smith.

Why is it the roses here on Drogheda are aIways the IoveIiest to be found?

Aren't they heavenIy?

But it's the heat that makes them bIoom, so makes me wiIt.

But nothing is given without a disadvantage in it.

True enough, Father, true enough. I'll Iay things out for Mass.

Amen.

Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson.

How many times do I have to tell you my name is Mary?

-And yet you never call me RaIph. -All right, RaIph. Happy Christmas.

It's very kind of you to spend it with a IoneIy oId woman.

HardIy that. On the contrary, it is very kind of you to invite...

-a IoneIy priest and fellow Irishman. -That's right.

This is your first Christmas in exiIe, isn't it?

ExiIe?

-It's my first year in AustraIia. -That's not what I mean, and you know it.

Six months now, and I still haven't figured out...

why the Church banished you out here to the Iand of Never-Never.

What sin did you commit? What priestIy vow did you break?

Poverty? Obedience?

Perhaps chastity?

You're quite sure I have been banished?

Of course. Look at you. You're aristocratic, witty, ambitious...

despite that facade of humiIity.

And God knows you have a subtIe mind.

You're the stuff cardinaIs are made of.

And you wouId Iook magnificent in red.

So you've said before, so you say each time I visit here.

And you're going to say, ''But my dear Mrs. Carson, I am a priest.

''SureIy I can do God's work here...

''as well as in the seats of eccIesiasticaI power.''

Sometimes, I think you know me better than I know myseIf.

I'm certain of that, too.

All right, now.

Ready.

Go!

Come on!

Come on! You can do it.

RaIph won!

-Good on you, Father RaIph. -Bravo, Father.

Well done, Father de Bricassart. How do you Iike him?

-He's beautifuI. -Good! He's yours. Happy Christmas.

Thank you.

I'll take pIeasure in riding him whenever I'm here...

but I can't accept him as a gift.

Why not? You accepted the car I gave you.

Because it allows me to get around and see my parishioners more often.

A fine distinction.

You'll accept my gifts onIy if some hoIy use can be made of them.

-It wasn't poverty. -I beg your pardon?

The vow you broke that got you banished.

It must have been chastity, yes?

All right, my Christmas gift to you:

I insuIted a bishop. A matter of IocaI church poIicy.

You broke your vow of obedience.

-That was ambitious of you. -There's some comfort in the fact...

that the Pope himseIf Iater came out in favor of my views in the matter.

Has he, now? And he hasn't rescued you?

My dear Mrs. Carson, priests are expendabIe, bishops aren't.

And it's not so terribIe a banishment.

I have you to remind me of the existence of civiIization...

-and I have Drogheda. -Yes.

You wouId Iike that, wouIdn't you? You'd Iike to have my Drogheda.

-WouId I? -Yes, you wouId.

If you couId charm me into Ieaving Drogheda to the Church...

His HoIiness wouId have to rescue you, reward you...

maybe even give you that beautifuI red cardinaI's robe some day.

A masterfuI pIan. But my dear Mrs. Carson...

I'm a priest. SureIy I can serve God as well here...

as in the seats of eccIesiasticaI power.

And how you'd hate it.

Still, I have to give Drogheda to someone someday, don't I?

That's worth thinking about.

Mrs. Smith, I must go.

PIease give my thanks to Mrs. Carson for a deIightfuI day.

That will be all, thank you. You're not Ieaving so soon.

It's Iate and a Iong way back to the parish.

I hope I didn't say anything this afternoon to upset you.

I mean, all that taIk about inheriting Drogheda.

-You didn't upset me in the Ieast. -Good.

-Have you thought about it? -About what, Mrs. Carson?

About charming me out of Drogheda...

because I didn't say I couIdn't be charmed, did I?

Mrs. Carson.

What is it you want from me?

Why...

onIy your spirituaI guidance of course, Father.

You see, I have a decision to make...

and you're the onIy one that can heIp me with it.

-I'll do what I can. -It's about my brother.

Your brother?

I thought you once said you had no famiIy Ieft.

I have a brother. I haven't seen him in years.

He Iives in New ZeaIand.

We both Ieft IreIand to make our fortunes...

but Paddy hasn't fared too well.

He's an experienced man with the Iand, however...

and he has a house full of sons.

I'm thinking of bringing him here and making him my...

head stockman.

I wonder you didn't think of it sooner.

I did. I've just been waiting, shall we say...

to see what might deveIop.

It wouId be a comfort to know I wouId be heIping Paddy...

to know I'm not all aIone in this worId...

not quite reduced to Ieaving all my pretty pennies to the Church.

-It's a most generous gift, Mary. -No. Never a gift.

No, whoever inherits Drogheda...

earns it.

Thank you, Father.

Good night, Mrs. Carson.

Father, it's time you were off.

All right, Annie.

I'll be right there.

It'll be nice for Mrs. Carson, having her brother's famiIy.

I must see you about the chaIk suppIy.

-ChaIk? -Three boxes are missing.

I'll Iook into it.

In Father Wattey's time, Father...

we took a much cIoser account of such things.

Hello, I'm Father de Bricassart. Sorry I'm Iate.

You'd be Mary Carson's brother?

That's right, Father. Paddy CIeary. This is my wife Fiona.

Mrs. CIeary.

I'll be taking you on to Drogheda.

I know you've had a very difficuIt journey.

You're very kind.

-These are my boys, Father. This is Bob. -Hello, Bob.

Jack, and Stuie here.

Take off your hat, son. And Frank.

-And who are you? -I'm Meggie.

Are we going to Iive here?

Not exactIy. I'll show you your house Iater, Meggie.

Meggie?

Yes, this is Meggie.

Mary, we have no words to thank you for your kindness in bringing us here.

When you're as oId as I am, and as rich...

the vuItures start to circIe.

You're my onIy fIesh and bIood, Paddy.

I don't have any sons, and MichaeI's been dead for over 30 years.

A Iong time to be aIone.

-I wonder you've never married again. -Marry again?

And give some man controI over me and all I have?

No, that's not what I call Iiving.

No. As Iong as I am aIive, Drogheda is mine...

and onIy mine.

-It's well to remember that. -Of course, Mary.

Let's have Mass right away, and then I'm sure...

we'd all enjoy a nice, hot meaI at your tabIe.

Sounds very nice indeed, Father.

125,000 sheep. 1,000 head of cattIe...

and more fence than you can ride in a month.

The round of work is endIess...

but Drogheda is the biggest in all of New South WaIes, and the best.

I've seen to that.

All I can say is, it Iooks Iike heaven to me.

If your idea of heaven is hard work, you're right.

But we CIearys know about hard work, don't we, sister?

Not that it got us very far back in IreIand.

I don't want you just to Iead the men. I want you to work with them...

and to keep on working Iong after they've quit.

When things go wrong, you take the bIame.

When they go right, don't expect any credit.

And I'll give you a free hand with the Iand...

just as Iong as you keep Drogheda the biggest and the best.

Well, Mr. Gough...

the goId is hoIding well and I think the investment Iooks sound.

But you're my Iawyer.

The steeI is still down since the war...

but nothing to worry about.

As we discussed, Carson Limited is doing well with your expansion pIans.

Meaning I'm still one of the richest women in AustraIia.

If not the richest.

-Has your brother any idea of all this? -No. No one has.

And that's the way I want it kept untiI the day I die. Do you understand?

Of course.

It wouId be amusing to know what peopIe wouId say...

if they knew Drogheda was onIy a hobby with me.

-Hello, Father. -Fee.

You're fighting a Iosing battIe.

There are three things you can't defeat in the outback:

the dust, the heat, and the fIies.

You're certainIy not Iike New ZeaIand priests.

They keep very much to themseIves.

You're not a CathoIic, are you?

When I Iost faith in my own church...

I saw no reason to espouse a creed equally meaningIess to me.

But Paddy's a CathoIic...

and we are rearing the chiIdren CathoIic, if it's worrying you.

It isn't. And I won't try to convert you.

-But I wouId Iike to be your friend. -You're very kind to us.

I Iike to know my parishioners, so I make the rounds of all stations...

but I must confess to a speciaI weakness for Drogheda.

-Perhaps it's my Irish bIood. -Irish?

I thought you were French background.

No, de Bricassart is an oId Norman name, but I'm Irish all right.

And the Iast of the de Bricassart Iine. I was born in County Meath...

just a stone's throw from the town of Drogheda.

Call it fate.

-Bye, Meggie. Wish you couId go. -Have fun, Stuie!

Poor IittIe Meggie.

It must be hard being the onIy girI.

But I've been bIessed with sons, these and two I've buried.

It's her sons a mother thinks of, isn't it?

Meggie, don't dawdIe. You've got the chickens to feed.

-Father RaIph! -Excuse me.

Hello, Meghann CIeary.

Let's feed those chookies.

Yes, but there's something I must show you first.

Come on.

What is it?

Isn't it beautifuI, Father?

Yes, I suppose it is.

Do you suppose that God is really all around us all the time?

What makes you ask me that, my IittIe girI?

Because if he is, I think he must be here...

don't you?

God is in his wooI room. All is right with the worId.

And why not? He did choose a stabIe once.

Come on, RaIph. That's a bit precious.

Except why not make this the epicenter of the papaI map...

and then you couId be cardinaI after all.

What wouId that make you? SureIy not the Pope?

No, that's too dull. Satan, perhaps.

-That's more interesting. -And more powerfuI.

Every heaven needs one, just to stay in business.

You argue Iike a Jesuit.

Isn't it true? Without Satan, there's no struggIe.

And it's the struggIe that keeps us aIive.

No. What keeps us aIive is the point of that struggIe:

The hope of attaining perfection.

If by perfection, you mean heaven....

But you have to die to get there, don't you?

Sometimes, I think you're after my souI.

I am...

unIess it's aIready been taken.

-Meggie, fetch the miIk, will you? -Yes, Mom.

Fiona, you are hopeIessIy oId-fashioned.

If you don't raise your hemIines and stop wearing all those petticoats...

you're going to die in this heat.

Where did you get this furniture and this spinet?

The furniture was my grandmother's.

She taught me how to pIay.

What was your maiden name?

My father's name was Roderick Armstrong.

My dear Fiona...

the Armstrongs are practically New ZeaIand's first famiIy.

You have come down in the worId, haven't you?

I don't think so.

You're better born than we CIearys, if I do say so.

The onIy thing I had going for me when I came to AustraIia...

was a face, figure, more brains than any woman's supposed to have.

But it got me MichaeI Carson.

You've done very well, Mary.

He doted on me till the day he died.

You ought to know what it is to have the Iove of a good man.

MichaeI was rich, but he was a bit of a fooI.

-Paddy's not a fooI. -No, but he's penniIess.

Can you really have Ioved him enough to give up your pIace in society?

My reasons for what I do are my own.

I do not discuss them.

Can I heIp, Frank?

Not IikeIy. These beasts wouId gobbIe you up...

right aIong with this kangaroo meat.

Stop it, you bIoody beasts!

Stop it!

-Shoot them, Frank! -Shoot them?

Don't worry.

What's the troubIe here?

Daddy, Aunt Mary says the dogs have got to be shot.

All right, darIing.

-You go on about your work. -Yes, Daddy.

Get the gun.

I am not going to shoot those dogs. They were just fighting a IittIe.

Just fighting?

Today, those two fight. Tomorrow, they all turn wiId.

We'll have a paddock full of sheep with their throats torn out.

There's no room here for anything wiId, Frank.

Those dogs are here to work and to obey.

Just Iike me, right?

That's all I do around here, work and obey.

That's right.

And as Iong as I'm your father, that's what you will do.

Now get the gun.

Yes, Daddy.

Hello, Meggie.

Now don't you go telling her majesty I fired up this engine.

It's onIy to be used at shearing time.

Pete!

I thought you boys wanted to Iearn shearing.

If you're not a fine pair of jackaroos!

Never saw a machine shears...

and here you'll be cockies of the whoIe pIace one day.

That steam engine runs it?

It runs the shears, turns the grinding wheeI...

works the wooI dumper, and it'll boiI the billy for your tea.

I bet I couId even beat Daddy with these.

Nobody can beat Daddy.

He was the fastest man with the hand shears in all Wahine, New ZeaIand.

Aren't you to be fetching the miIk?

I never was a gun shearer myseIf but I can teach you right enough.

I brought a few sheep in to practice on.

Get out here, you brainIess dummy!

You're about to be made an exampIe of!

Bob, get yourseIf a sheep.

The fastest bIadesman I ever saw...

was oId Hee Sing, a Chinaman.

He couId ring any shed in the country, couId oId Hee Sing.

Get in there.

Finished.

What do you think, Pete?

Bob, I'd say you're a champion shearer...

Thanks, Pete!

...in the making.

All right, Stuie. Now just waIk right straight toward him.

SIowIy.

That's it. Look him right straight in the eye.

That's.... No, don't Iook at me. Look at him.

Why do you think I sent you in there?

That's it.

Lay off, will you? The poor kid's onIy 11.

Go on, Stu.

-God-- -You stay out of this.

No son of mine is gonna be scared of any animaI in this pIace.

That's it, Stu. Go ahead.

-You think that's funny? -Stop it! Frank!

Get back to work, all of you.

You pull a trick Iike that again, and I'll take a stock whip to you.

Will you, now? Come on, then.

Come on then, now's your chance.

You've fought and scrapped and acted Iike a savage your whoIe Iife.

I'll not have it anymore, not here.

Now get back to work.

Hello, Meggie. I've been Iooking for you.

-What's wrong? -Nothing.

I never get to do anything.

The boys got to ride all the way out to the far paddock with Pete.

They won't even Iet me on a horse.

Maybe your mom doesn't think it's safe for you.

She doesn't even know I'm aIive.

She doesn't care about anyone except Frank.

But I'll tell you one thing, Father.

When I'm grown up, I'm never gonna Iove one of my chiIdren more than the others.

Here, Iet me heIp you. What are you doing, anyway?

CIeaning out this drain so we can get water to the sheep.

You really ought to be in a schooI.

WouIdn't you Iike that?

Yes. But they need me to heIp.

Anyway, I guess I don't need schooI just to Iive here on Drogheda.

But you do.

When your famiIy inherits Drogheda, you'll be a proper young Iady.

You need to be prepared for that.

Who knows. You might not even want to spend your Iife here.

Because big as Drogheda is, it's onIy a tiny corner of the worId.

There's so much eIse out there...

so many other Iives you might choose...

so many opportunities for you.

Do you ever wish that you couId go out and see the worId?

I'm a priest, wee Meggie. I must go where the Church sends me.

Let's see if this works.

We did it.

Come on.

I'll take you back to the house.

There are some things I want to taIk to your Aunt Mary about.

I sometimes wonder that we troubIe buiIding and mending fences.

The rabbits tunneI under them...

the kangas jump over them, the wiId pigs charge right through them.

Look at this hellish wasteIand. A man wouId wonder anything couId Iive.

It's not Iike home.

Home was just as green as anything.

You'll see a bit of green when the rains come...

if they come.

No, it's sheep that have turned this Iand into desert...

and man.

I'd say that rabbit's as safe as houses at this rate.

-This is Iife. -Good God, boy!

I'll tell you what Iife is.

Life is what you just poured into the ground.

-Sorry, Pete. -You'll Iearn.

You must know, no matter how much you Iove the outback...

she'll find a dozen ways to kill you before sundown.

What is it, boy?

What are you smelling now?

-What is that thing? -Jack, hoId that dog.

It's a wiId pig, a boar.

-Let's get him. -No.

Stuart, get down from there!

-I want to shoot at him. -No.

He's too far away.

If you shoot at a wiId boar, beIieve me, you'd better kill him...

or he'll kill you.

Damn!

-Come on, Iads. -But--

Stuie, no!

Thanks, twerp.

-What's my best girI been up to today? -It was so nice, Frank.

Father RaIph came to see me.

Meggie, he came to see everyone. Set the tabIe.

Yes, Mom.

-Here, Mom, Iet me. -It's all right, son.

You know how Daddy feeIs about you boys doing women's work.

I want you to get aIong with Paddy a IittIe better.

Hello, Paddy. Boys not with you?

They're out with Pete.

ShouId've been in by now.

That smells good, Mother.

Frank, I'm about finished cIassing the ewes.

Tomorrow you're to start for the far paddocks...

and begin mustering the rams for breeding.

All right. If you think I can handIe it.

I don't know if you can handIe it or not.

But the man you were skincracking to fight today has quit!

So you can do his work for him.

Best put him up pIenty...

of tucker and a good bedroll, he'll be out a whiIe.

Never mind, Mom, I'll do it. You've got enough to do aIready.

-What's that supposed to mean? -Look at her.

She's so tired, now she can't even see straight.

You may think you can treat us Iike sIaves, but not her!

She's not some ignorant cIodhopping yokeI.

Like me? Go on, say it.

Your mother might as well see how much respect you've got for me.

I'm sorry, Daddy.

Daddy, wait till you hear--

-Stuie shot a boar! -A boar?

He was huge, the ugIiest deviI you ever saw. He killed the dog.

Stuie just stepped up as nice as you pIease and--

-Bob, Iet Stuie tell it. -I can't beIieve it.

We were farmers, you know, back in GaIway.

One day, my dad toId me to fetch a breeding bull from the next farm up.

We were too poor to have one of our own.

I tried, but that oId bull was a killer.

I had to come back without him.

My dad called me a good-for-nothing coward.

He said he'd show me how to fetch a bull.

I feIt so bad, I sat down and cried.

After a whiIe, I Iooked up...

and here come my dad down the Iane.

He had a rope in his hand all right, but there was no bull at the end of it.

He just waIked right on by me. Never said a word at all.

But he never called me a coward again after that.

For thy bounty which we are about to receive...

for the beauty of earth and sky...

and for the bIessings of the chiIdren thou hast given us, Lord...

Iet us be truIy gratefuI.

Amen.

You're a beautifuI woman, Fee.

Paddy, I....

Mary thought I might be more comfortabIe in Iighter cIothes.

-You toId her about the baby, then? -No.

Isn't Stuie something, though?

Whatever you said to him made him so happy.

Well, that's one, anyway.

I'm sorry I Iost my temper again with Frank.

No, he was very wrong.

There's just something about him I don't understand. Something...

wiId.

But what he said about how hard you have to work...

it's true.

I know this is still not the Iife you shouId have, but...

-someday. -Don't taIk someday, Paddy.

You've given me as much as any woman couId possibIy hope for.

What are we going to name this baby, anyway?

-It smells Iike eggs again. -It's the brimstone.

Father RaIph says hell must be Iike this.

Twerp.

What are you doing out of bed?

You shouIdn't be. You'll be Ieaving earIy in the morning.

It's too hot to sIeep.

What is it?

You've been moping around all week.

I don't want to go away to schooI and Ieave you.

Silly goose.

Gillanbone's onIy 40 miIes away.

-Father RaIph will be there. -Yes, that's so.

I'll miss you.

And Mom really needs me here to heIp.

Sit up for a minute and Iisten to me.

They aIways preached to us to work together for the good of us all.

How we must never think of ourseIves first.

You've got to think of yourseIf because they never will.

Yes, they do.

It was Daddy who said I couId go to schooI.

Because Father RaIph insisted.

He fixed it so Aunt Mary wouId pay for you, the tight-fisted oId witch.

I want you to go...

do you hear?

I want you to go.

Run aIong, boys.

Poor Meggie. Such a hard time fitting in.

-How's our IittIe project coming? -AImost finished. Excuse me.

HoId your hands out, pIease.

Your hands, Meghann CIeary.

We're still biting them, are we?

Yes, Sister.

All right.

Turn them over.

That will do, Sister. Thank you.

Come aIong, Meggie.

I'm sorry, Father.

Are you going to send me back to Drogheda?

That's up to you.

-Do you want to go back? -No. I Iove schooI...

and being here with you.

But Sister Agatha--

I think she understands a IittIe better now, don't you?

The convent isn't really a very homey pIace for you.

In fact...

Annie and I have been thinking that...

what you need is your very own, speciaI pIace...

here, with us.

-WouId you Iike that? -CouId I? Honest?

Come on.

Why do you tug so at my heart?

Why do you fill that space God can't fill?

Frank.

I thought you couId use some company.

Your mother says you've been aIone out here for weeks.

Not Iong enough.

How's Meggie?

She's doing beautifully in schooI. She sends her Iove.

We've got to get this Iot in.

The monsoons are coming.

Why did you become a priest?

Because I Iove God.

And I want to heIp others feeI his Iove.

Why do you ask me?

Because you don't act much Iike a priest to me.

Being out here gives me...

an escape from my priestIy duties at the parish.

I need that, I'm afraid.

I can understand that, right enough.

Stuck out here in this...

hellish pIace.

-No picnic, is it? -No, it's not.

The Church has such power, Frank.

Or rather, God has, working through the Church.

The power to shape the Iives of millions of peopIe...

to change the whoIe course of history.

And I want to be a part of that.

I try to hoId the thought that even out here...

I do share in that power...

but sometimes I find it very difficuIt.

Then why don't you escape?

Why do you put up with it, a man Iike you?

You couId be anything that you wanted to be.

Yet I'd give up every ambition...

every desire in me, to be the perfect priest.

-''The perfect priest.'' -How can I expIain?

I'm a vesseI...

and sometimes I'm filled with God.

If I were a better priest...

there wouId be no periods of emptiness, no need to escape.

I wouId aIways be filled with God.

That, to me, wouId be perfection.

Nobody can be that perfect...

-not even you. -Perhaps me Ieast of all.

I haven't found it easy, anyway, to keep my vows...

to forgo the Iove of a woman or of money...

or to be obedient.

That's been the hardest for me, obedience.

But I've Iearned to obey.

This pIace has taught me that.

Maybe I shouId become a priest.

I'd quaIify all right.

No woman, no money, and...

oh, do I obey.

''Yes, Daddy. No, Daddy. Quite all right, Daddy.''

Why do you put up with it?

Because I can't get away from him.

But you're 22 now. He can't hoId you anymore.

He'll hoId me till I die.

No, Frank. You're a man...

and past the age when another man can hoId you.

If you're heId, it's by something eIse...

or someone eIse.

Mom.

It's so beautifuI.

I've been so worried about you.

Out there for weeks in this storm.

God.

He's got you pregnant again.

He just can't Ieave you aIone, can he?

This is no different from the way you came into the worId.

-It deserves the same respect. -Respect?

When he paws at you Iike a dirty oId goat that he is?

He is my husband!

When you insuIt him, you insuIt me.

I'm not the BIessed Virgin.

I'm not pure, untainted, and hoIy.

-I'll end up killing him. -Then you'll kill me as well.

No!

I'll free you!

I can never be free.

I don't want to be free.

God.

Mother.

Look at yourseIf!

Look at your Iife. The waste!

You don't beIong with him !

Son, you're a man now.

You've got to stop thinking about me so much.

You need a wife.

It's time.

-Father, you're a sight! -I shouId've come around back.

It's quite all right. Leave your things here. I'll collect them Iater.

Thank you, Mrs. Smith.

You are the most beautifuI man I have ever seen, RaIph de Bricassart.

But, of course, you aIready know that.

Curious how you view us mortaIs with contempt...

for admiring that beauty.

And yet you wouId use it without compunction...

to get whatever you wanted, wouIdn't you?

-I thought it was my souI you were after. -It is.

Because at my age, officially...

I'm supposed to be beyond the drives of my body.

And one mustn't expect miracIes...

even from you.

How many women have Ioved you? Besides your mother?

Did she Iove me?

I don't know.

She ended up hating me.

Because you didn't need her.

Because I needed God more.

Interesting.

And now....

Now you can't need any woman...

can you, CardinaI de Bricassart?

Father, I'm so gIad you're back.

Father, what's wrong?

I'll never have what I want!

Never be what I want!

And I don't know how to stop...

wanting!

It's all right, Meggie.

It's all right.

It's just that sometimes, God's Iessons are very hard for me.

Like Sister Ag and her ruIer.

Yes.

Come on.

It's coId in here.

Good day.

You'll spoiI your dinner. No, thank you. Not for me.

Let's see if we can find your famiIy.

Come over here.

And now, Iadies and gents, it's my pIeasure to present...

the Queen of the 1921 Gillanbone show: Miss Judy Sutton.

Good on you, Judy.

BIess my beads, it's the good Father.

-CongratuIations, Judy. -How about a kiss for Miss Gilly?

Come on, give me something to confess on Sunday.

I mustn't make my best girI jeaIous, now, must I?

Around and around she goes...

the WheeI of Fortune. Step right up.

Make way. Coming through.

All right. Have yourseIves a good time...

but stay out of the pub.

-Thanks, Daddy. -Let's go find Pete and unIoad the rams.

Here, son.

-Daddy! Frank! -Meggie, me Iove!

Hello. Look at you in your uniform.

Where's Stuie? Where's Mom?

With the baby due so soon, we thought Mom best not traveI.

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 Iooking spIendid.

Will you be staying over?

I'd rather hoped you'd invite me to stay at the rectory.

-You couId stay in my room. -Your room?

-I thought you were at the convent. -No.

Father RaIph gave me my very own room right next to his.

You're very weIcome to stay.

My housekeeper will be happy to share her room with Meggie tonight.

No, thank you. I wouIdn't want to disturb all your IittIe...

arrangements.

Nice bit of riding, AIastair.

-CongratuIations, that's a fine horse. -Thank you, Mary.

Angus, this is my brother, Paddy CIeary.

-Angus MacQueen and his son AIastair. -How do you do, sir?

This is my aunt, Sarah MacQueen.

-Mr. CIeary, ma'am. -Hello.

Sarah, how is MeIbourne these days?

I hardIy know...

I've been in PaIm Beach most of the season.

And then, Hawaii. Of course, one Iongs for the Continent...

but it's still impossibIy depressing since the War.

Paddy, wouId you get me some more champagne, pIease.

Excuse me, ma'am.

Sorry, ma'am.

As it turned out, they were all six of them.

You Iook as though you couId use a reaI drink.

-Hello, Mr. Gough. -None of that ''Mr. Gough'' stuff.

-Harry to you. -Well, Harry then.

I'm feeIing a proper fooI and that's the truth.

If Fee was here, she couId hoId her own with this Iot, but I'm....

Our squatters Iike to Iay it on, don't they? Hoity-toity.

HeIps them forget their grandfathers were burned in the hand...

and sent here in prisoner ships. But you shouId get used to them.

You'll be Ieader of the whoIe fIock one day.

Don't tell me.

Let's get cracking whiIe the pub's still open. We cIose earIy these days.

-I'd Iike to, but Mary wanted some-- -Champagne for Mrs. Carson.

Be gratefuI we don't have Prohibition Iike the Yanks.

Here it is, gents, Jimmy Sharman's famous boxing troupe.

The worId's greatest fighters.

PIus 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 Iads. Who'll take it for a fiver? Last chance.

Here we go! Five minutes Ieft before the fight.

Come on Iads. 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 Iad. Come on, step up here, sir.

Here's a pair of gIoves for you.

What are you Iaughing 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 aIong, Meggie. -No. I wanna stay.

I can't Iet you. Your father wouId fIay me aIive, and rightIy. Come aIong.

I wanna stay with Frank!

Buy your Iady some fish and chips and a gIass of aIe.

What do you have to Iose? You work harder on the farm.

Come on, Iet's go.

This brave young Iad is Frank CIeary.

Break!

Look, I won. I fought four fights, and I won.

It was too scary.

You didn't Iet her see it, did you?

Short of binding and gagging the chiId, I couIdn't see how to keep her away.

Don't be angry. She's been upset enough aIready.

You mustn't ever Iet 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, Iook 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 oId has-beens...

from a country show.

I made myseIf $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 eIse.

For her sake? You stinking oId he-goat.

After what you've done to her. You couIdn't Ieave her aIone.

-CouIdn't keep your hands off her. -Don't you speak to me Iike 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 heIp me God.

So heIp you God.

God rot your souIs, both of you. If you've ruined that chiId, I'll kill you.

I shouId've Iet you kill each other, you miserabIe seIf-centered cretins.

Son...

what I said, it's not true.

No.

I've aIways feIt it.

I've aIways known that you came after me...

that she was mine first.

I've aIways bIamed you for dragging her down all these years.

It was me.

No, Frank.

It's not your fauIt.

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 oIder so that I couId expIain 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 whoIe troupe, Jimmy Sharman...

he wants me to be one of his reguIar fighters.

-Really? -Think of that.

I'll traveI around the whoIe country and see things you've never dreamed of.

I wish you'd take me with you.

Will you, Frank?

No. What kind of Iife wouId that be for you?

You must stay here and Iearn to be a great Iady.

Because you know something?

You're going to be all grown up sooner than you know.

Why don't you Iove me anymore?

-I do Iove you, Meggie. -No, you don't.

-You wouIdn't Ieave me if you did. -My darIing Meggie.

No one will ever Iove you more than I.

Frank!

I was the dairy hand.

I used to see Fee in the distance waIking with Frank.

He was onIy a baby then.

Then one day, oId Roderick Armstrong came to see me.

He said his daughter had disgraced the famiIy.

They wanted to send her away but the grandmother wouIdn't hear of it.

Now the oId Iady 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 Iady far above you?

But it wasn't the money, Father.

She was so beautifuI.

I wanted to see her safe and not abused.

To me she's beautifuI still.

She is indeed.

And in Meggie, I can see what she must've been Iike 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 Iove her so much, Father.

I know she's never had that feeIing for me.

Not even in the most private moments of our Iives together.

But never once in all these years has she ever...

compIained or cried...

or Iaughed.

How's Meggie?

Father, what in heaven's name happened here today?

Father, promise you won't ever Ieave me.

DarIing Meggie.

-Meggie, Frank had to Ieave. -Why?

Because it hurt him too much to stay.

It'll hurt more without Mom and me...

because we're the ones who Iove him.

For each of us, there comes a time...

when he must search for the thing he thinks he needs above all eIse.

No matter what it costs.

You mean the thing that'll make him happy?

Happy.

There's a story...

a Iegend...

about a bird that sings just once in its Iife.

From the moment it Ieaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree...

and never rests untiI it's found one. And then it sings...

more sweetIy than any other creature on the face of the earth.

And singing...

it impaIes itseIf on the Iongest, sharpest thorn.

But as it dies...

it rises above its own agony...

to out-sing the Iark and the nightingaIe.

The thorn bird pays its Iife...

for just one song...

but the whoIe worId stills to Iisten.

And God in his heaven smiIes.

What does it mean, Father?

That the best...

is bought onIy at the cost of great...

pain.

Thank you, Meggie. What a pIeasure 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 traveI between Gilly and Drogheda...

to see his favorite person, say, once each month...

how many times wouId 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 schooI.

Sometimes I Iong to throw open all those gates...

and race down the road and never stop.

Just Ieave all 27 of them gaping open...

Iike astonished mouths behind me.

Goodbye, Father.

Hello, Mom.

Hello, Meggie.

Mom, HaI's beautifuI.

Father de Bricassart, how very nice to see you again.

Why did you do it, Mary?

When the dress on your back couId pay her tuition for the rest of the year!

RaIph, I don't beIieve I've ever seen you so...

impassioned.

I thought it best to take Meghann out of schooI.

Fee is not well. She needs the heIp.

Why do you disIike Meggie so much?

She's a beautifuI, intelligent IittIe girI...

and yet no one seems to give a rap about her!

Which means you can be sure of her Iove.

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-hoIy ambitions of yours.

Mary, this is unworthy even of you.

I am, after all, a priest.

You are a man first, RaIph de Bricassart.

No, Mary. A priest.

First, Iast...

and aIways.

Coming aIong beautifully, Meggie.

This time next year, you'll be ready for the horse triaIs at the Gilly fair.

But then, Father, by this time next year, you couId be in Rome.

Poor IittIe HaI. I think he's a mite feverish, Meggie.

Mrs. Smith, pIease take the chiIdren...

in the kitchen for tea.

You have heard the news?

The Pope has decided that AustraIia shouId have its very own cardinaI.

I didn't know you stay current with church poIitics.

But it's so intriguing, don't you think? His HoIiness is sending a papaI Iegate...

to search the Iength and breadth of this Iand...

to find a man worthy enough to wear the biretta.

Now, that's Iike Cinderella.

Mary, much as I Iove 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 Iack of humiIity.

Then I was sent here.

Here you were. A good CathoIic, with Drogheda and no heirs...

or so I thought.

And you thought, ''My ticket to the Vatican.''

Put with typicaI crueIty but perhaps not undeserved.

The point is, I've changed...

and it's IargeIy you I have to thank for it.

Me?

When you made the CIearys your heirs, you dashed all my hopes, as you intended.

But it freed me, too, from all my oId desires.

Mary, I'm a priest. OnIy that.

-And content. -Bravo, RaIph.

I can't remember when I've enjoyed a performance more.

''All my oId desires.'' That is wonderfuI.

I'll Iet you stew a whiIe Ionger...

but your day of reckoning is coming. Don't you ever doubt it.

How you do Iove 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 yourseIf Iike 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 souI, you may Iose your own.

-If there's still one there to Iose. -Or still one there to destroy!

In a Christian country, all this commotion wouId mean rain.

Those grazing Iands are dry as chips.

Not a mouthfuI of grass anywhere.

I reckon we'll be Iucky Iads if this Iightning doesn't set the range afIame.

Did I ever really say Drogheda was heaven? Good night.

Daddy, come on. LittIe HaI 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 suIfur from the storehouse, will you?

''May Christ receive thee who hath called thee...

''and may the angeIs bear thee unto Abraham's bosom.''

Meggie, what is it?

I'm all right.

But you're not. Just taIk to me.

There's nothing wrong. Leave me aIone!

She's doing it again, Father.

She's been Iike this ever since IittIe HaI died.

I know. She won't taIk to me, either.

We can't Iet this go on.

Meggie.

Meggie, Iisten to me.

You've got to stop this.

I know how much you Ioved HaI, but you can't go on grieving this way.

Meggie, pIease.

You're wasting away before my very eyes. I can't bear it!

Father, you make me so ashamed.

It's not HaI.

-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 Iove you just the way God Ioves you, wee Meggie.

Father...

I'm dying.

-Dying? -Just Iike HaI.

OnIy it's some kind of tumor or something, Father.

How do you know this, dear heart?

I get the most awfuI pains, Father.

And then, there's a Iot of bIood.

But it's not all the time.

-Just every month or so? -Yes.

How did you know that?

My precious girI...

you're not dying. You're growing up.

Sorry your mom didn't expIain all this to you.

-She shouId have, you know. -You mean Mom does it, too?

All heaIthy 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, ''BIessed be the fruit of thy womb, Jesus''?

That's right.

Do you know...

-what makes babies? -Of course, Father.

It comes from mating, Iike the rams and the ewes.

I've tried to watch them, but Daddy said I mustn't.

But I've heard the boys taIking.

-Isn't that right, Father? -Yes, but....

See, Meggie, it's very different with peopIe.

Or it shouId be. Because God intended, I think...

that when a man and a woman mate, they do it...

as a way of showing their Iove for each other.

So it's a mating not just of bodies but of souIs.

-It must be so wonderfuI. -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 aIways stop being a priest. -No.

No, Meggie darIing. I can never stop being a priest.

Not ever.

-What about those tarts you promised me? -Yes, come on.

Father, I'm so gIad I'm not dying.

-What wouId I ever do without you? -Silly, you'll never be without me.

What wouId her majesty be wanting with me at this Iate day?

Heaven knows. Still a thousand things to do, and the guests are aImost 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 bIessing, aren't they?

What is that?

I was just taking it aIong to Meggie. I thought you wouIdn't mind...

if the CIearys dressed here...

so as they wouIdn't be dust to the waist from waIking.

Good.

That's a pretty coIor for Meghann. What do you call it?

Ashes of Roses, ma'am. It's quite the thing just now.

You will heIp her dress this evening.

We want her to Iook absoIuteIy irresistibIe.

Has Father de Bricassart arrived yet?

No, not yet. But your Iawyer, 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 IittIe 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 pIease send Harry Gough to me. -Yes, ma'am.

I'll fetch Mr. Gough.

Why, Mrs. CIeary, you Iook stunning.

Thank you.

For once, Mary's opened her wallet wide enough to Iet the moths fIy out.

She doesn't want her poor reIations shaming her on her 75th birthday.

I best get this to Meggie or she'll be Iate.

Fee.

Why, Paddy...

you Iook Iike a dipIomat.

Do I?

I feeI Iike an undertaker.

But you....

You Iook just grand.

Harry, doesn't she Iook grand?

My dear Fee, you Iook Iike the Iady of the manor.

Is that a IegaI opinion, Mr. Gough?

-HeIp me with these, will you? -Yes.

I think they'll do, even if they're not quite reaI.

Never you mind.

Some day I'm going to buy you the finest strand of pearIs in all AustraIia.

Really, it's astonishing how few interesting men there are since the War.

And that's been 10 years. I mean, virtually one's whoIe Iife.

They're either doddering or eIse they're mere chiIdren.

Where on earth has Meggie got to?

Mrs. Smith says she's about got her ready.

-That's Stuart CIeary. -LittIe Stuie CIeary?

HonestIy, Lucy. Not bad Iooking, I suppose...

but such a rube Iike all those CIearys.

Still, he might do for you.

And of course, they'll be frightfully rich when she goes.

-Father. -Happy birthday, Mary.

How deIightfuI you Iook, Iike a young girI.

You've outdone yourseIf. This must be the finest party in the district in 50 years.

EasiIy. I hope you're staying over...

because I've pIanned some reaI festivities for tomorrow.

I'd be deIighted.

-Harry. -Hello, Father.

-Father, what a deIight to see you. -Good evening, Miss CarmichaeI.

But you've been dreadfully negIectfuI, you know.

Mother was just saying the other day...

that you haven't been to BeeI-BeeI for the Iongest time.

Thank you.

-Hello, AIastair. -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 wouId 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 shambIes.

PeopIe throwing themseIves out of windows.

That can't happen here. Not with the wooI market we've got.

Do you reaIize how much this country exported Iast year?

Good Lord. Who is that?

Excuse me.

-Meggie, you're so beautifuI. -Thanks, Stuie.

I give you Mary Carson.

A dear and generous sister, a great Iady...

and queen of this beautifuI Iand 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 eIse.

As we all know, those of us who have Iived here...

and fought the drought and the fIoods, and the heat and the coId, and yet...

have managed to prosper...

and become masters of all we survey.

This Iand 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 beautifuI speech, Mary. You made Paddy very happy.

I truIy wonder if she isn't getting a bit seniIe.

I mean, tricked out exactIy Iike a bride.

So grossIy unsuitabIe.

Someone shouId've toId her she Iooks Iike death in white.

Beauty and the Beast.

He's grinning at her Iike he didn't care she Ieft that Iot to those CIearys.

Of course, he's too hoIy for fiIthy Iucre and suchIike anyhow, isn't he?

Of course, it does make those CIeary boys more interesting.

-She's a grand oId girI, 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 decIined.

Thank you, Angus.

-What's the matter? Are you all right? -Yes, I'm all right.

Let's Iet others have a chance.

-Of course. -PIease dance.

Cynthia.

I never supposed we couId still dance together, Fee.

How Iong 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, AIastair.

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 fauIt. I shouId've taught them a few of the sociaI graces:

How to dance, what to say to a girI.

There's been IittIe time for anything but hard work all these years.

We're just beginning to reaIize how many changes there will be in our Iives.

Will it make you happy, Paddy, being rich?

I couId never be a rich man, Fee. Not if I was to have a million pounds.

I wouIdn't know how to be.

It's knowing that you'll be Iiving the way you aIways shouId have...

that you'll take your pIace again.

That's what makes me happy.

Father RaIph, about the bingo. Patricia wants to put in....

I must take exception to it. If we couId have a IittIe taIk--

Father?

-Are you enjoying the party? -Meggie, yes.

Are you?

Yes, it's a IoveIy party.

Excuse me, Meggie.

She is IoveIy, isn't she?

There's not a man in this room...

who wouIdn'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 Iong time ago, I offered you a chance at the cardinaI's robe...

and you turned me down.

But I wonder, if you had to choose between Meggie...

and the cardinaI's robe...

which wouId you choose?

Mary, what wouId I have done without you these past years?

Your wit, perception...

your maIice.

Father, why don't you want to be with me?

TaIk to me.

Is there something wrong?

You Iook IoveIy, Meggie.

So grown up.

I have to speak to the MacQueens.

Meggie.

What a sweet dress.

Thank you, Miss CarmichaeI.

Mrs. Smith made it for me. I heIped a IittIe.

Did you?

I'm sure I haven't seen anything Iike it in the fashion pages.

You know, I keep expecting to see you at the horse triaIs.

RaIph tells me you might become quite an abIe rider one day.

Some peopIe are saying that it isn't quite the thing for him...

to be spending so much time in Drogheda.

It's spIendid of RaIph to take such an interest in you CIearys.

RaIph, you haven't danced with me all evening.

You must do the bIack bottom with me.

You aIways do it so well.

Look, everyone, Father's going to do the bIack bottom.

Father, it's time for me to go up.

PIease, everybody. It's aImost dawn, but pIease stay and enjoy yourseIves.

Good night, Mary.

-Will you see me up the stairs? -Of course.

Good night. It's been a wonderfuI party, Mary.

Yes, hasn't it?

It was a wonderfuI party, Mary. And I hope, a wonderfuI birthday for you.

My Iast. I'm tired of Iiving. I'm going to stop.

FiddIesticks. You're pIanning something speciaI for tomorrow.

-You toId me so yourseIf. -Yes, I remember.

But I won't see you.

Kiss me goodbye, RaIph.

Mary, good night. SIeep well.

No! On my mouth.

Kiss me on my mouth as if we were Iovers!

-Mary, I am a priest. -A priest! You're not a man nor a priest.

You're some impotent, useIess 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 pIanning for you.

It's yourseIf you'll destroy with this everIasting hatred of yours.

When Satan tempted Christ with the whoIe worId...

is it because he hated him or because he Ioved him?

-You don't Iove me. -I have aIways Ioved you!

So much so, I wouId've killed you for not wanting me!

But I found a better method.

No, not Iove.

I'm the goad of your oId age, that's all.

A reminder of what you can no Ionger be.

Let me tell you something, CardinaI de Bricassart...

about oId age and about that God of yours.

That vengefuI God who ruins our bodies...

and Ieaves us with onIy enough wit for regret.

Inside this stupid body, I am still young!

I still feeI! I still want!

I still dream !

And I still Iove you!

Oh, God, how much!

Meggie!

Meggie.

Meggie darIing, don't cry.

Here.

Here now, dry your eyes Iike a good girI.

I don't want it! I'm not a chiId anymore.

Why don't you just go back to your dancing?

I know you're not a chiId.

Anyone can see you've grown into a beautifuI young woman.

You were by far the IoveIiest girI at the party tonight.

But that's just the probIem.

They all know I come to Drogheda more often than I need.

If I'd paid you a skerrick of attention tonight...

it wouId'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 Iife to think about me...

except as an oId friend...

who heIped 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 Iand.

That it's so beautifuI, so pure...

and so indifferent to the fates of the creatures who presume to ruIe it.

And what are you thinking, my dearest Meggie?

Just that I wish the sun wouId never come up.

We couId stay Iike this forever.

-Father! -What is it, Mrs. Smith?

It's Mrs. Carson, Father. She's dead.

Mrs. Smith, we'll have to hoId the funeraI right away, with this heat.

Yes, Father.

I've sent Pete down for Paddy and I've teIephoned to the others.

Many of them haven't even reached home yet from the party, though.

-Father. -Harry, you've heard?

It's terribIe. TerribIe.

Father, I must speak to you.

-Can it wait? I have some arrangements-- -Mary's orders. PIease.

Fancy the oId monster popping off Iike that to spite God and all?

She probabIy did herseIf in.

UnIess it was the deviI doing us all a favor.

Crying shame all the ice got used up Iast night.

I have here Mary's will. As you've probabIy guessed...

she Ieft everything to Paddy and his famiIy.

She did Ieave a bit to the Church and some to you.

ShouIdn't the CIearys be here?

Yes, we'll have the reading Iater, after the funeraI.

Mary gave this to me Iast night before the party.

I was to read it to you the moment I Iearnt of her death.

Of course, I had no idea then....

Good Lord. It's a new will...

dated yesterday.

But why wouId she make it without me?

''I, Mary EIizabeth Carson et cetera...

''bequeath all my worIdIy goods to the HoIy CathoIic Church of Rome...

''on the condition that she show appreciation...

''of the worth and abiIity of her servant...

''Father RaIph de Bricassart...

''and that said Father RaIph de Bricassart...

''serve as the chief authority in charge of my estate.''

CongratuIations, Father.

You got the Iot after all. All $13 million of it.

$13 million? I....

But what about the CIearys?

They get to stay on as managers.

Decent of her not to throw them out entireIy.

And there's $10,000 a year for your personaI use...

and a note to you.

''My dear RaIph, how do you Iike my new will?

''Of course, you can destroy it if you wish.

''It's the onIy copy, and my Iawyer 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 sureIy as if I couId be there watching...

''when they give you that red robe and miter.''

Father, Iisten.

There's no denying it was Mary's property...

to dispose of in any manner she wished, and I'm not a CathoIic, so forgive me.

But we both know the Church has no right to the estate.

PIease, Iet's just destroy this.

Let poor oId Paddy and his famiIy have what's rightfully theirs.

-It's so awfuI. -Paddy, I'm so sorry.

My poor sister. I can't beIieve 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 knowIedge that in her Iast hour she was not aIone.

Not the greatest nor humbIest Iiving being dies aIone...

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 Ioved more than any Iiving being...

for she understood so well the words of St. Matthew:

''Where your treasure is...

''there will be your heart aIso.''

Let us pray for her immortaI souI...

that she, whom we Ioved in Iife...

will enjoy her just and eternaI reward.

And as we pray, Iet us remember that our Lord is rich in mercy.

And Iet 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 EIizabeth Carson, nee CIeary.''

Yesterday.

I won't deny it's a bit of a disappointment.

-Paddy, I want you to contest. -That wouIdn't be right.

It was her money, wasn't it?

If she wanted to Ieave it to the Church....

And then, 13 million quid...

I wouIdn't know how to Iook after that kind of money.

You don't understand, Paddy.

There are aIready hundreds of peopIe empIoyed to Iook after it for you.

PIease contest.

I'll get you the best KCs in the country.

We'll fight it all the way to the Privy CounciI, if necessary.

What do you think?

But we can Iive on Drogheda anyway and have this house.

Isn't that what the will says?

No one can turn you off Drogheda so Iong as one of your father's grandchiIdren Iives.

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 siIver.

Well, that settIes 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 Ieave untiI I've seen their faces, do you?

Sometimes, I think you Iack human feeIing.

Paddy is very grieved about Mary's death.

Still, what is the harm in congratuIating him?

Here they come.

My condoIences.

Father.

PIease don't think there are any hard feeIings on our side.

Mary was never swayed by another human being in all her Iife...

brother or priest.

If she Ieft 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 oId 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 Iife, you'll have to Iook to me.

I don't understand.

You'll be respectabIe, even socially admissibIe...

but you'll never quite be ''Miss CIeary.'' Never quite be one of them.

I don't want to be one of them.

Be stupid and vicious and crueI Iike Miss CarmichaeI.

-How couId 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 pIan.

I brought in $13 million.

And a hoIy priest who's brought in $13 million...

will not be Ieft to Ianguish 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 Iove most in the worId?

Then better for me.

Better than someday having to marry you to somebody eIse.

Better than staying here to watch you change into something I can never have.

Meggie, when I saw you Iast night, I aImost hated you.

Hated me?

-For growing up? -Yes.

When you were a IittIe girI, you were Iike my own chiId to me.

You were the rose of my Iife.

-I couId have you then. -You can have me now.

You can marry me. You Iove me.

But I Iove God more.

I do Iove you, Meggie. I aIways will.

But I can't be a husband to you.

If onIy I couId make you understand what being a priest means to me.

How God fills a need in me no human being ever couId.

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 Ioves you.

The saga continues...

as a way of life is threatened.

And forbidden love is given...

You've come back.

...then taken away.

My Iife beIongs to God.

And new desires are ignited...

He was a fooI to Iet you go.

...while ambition lights the road to Rome.

The Thorn Birds continues.

DVD Subtit�es: GenieGr.999.org -klepal-