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diff --git a/7231-h/7231-h.htm b/7231-h/7231-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0c154e --- /dev/null +++ b/7231-h/7231-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13586 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Light O' the Morning, by L. T. Meade + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Light O' The Morning, by L. T. Meade + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Light O' The Morning + +Author: L. T. Meade + + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7231] +This file was first posted on March 29, 2003 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIGHT O' THE MORNING *** + + + + +Text file produced by Anne Folland, Tiffany Vergon,Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + LIGHT O' THE MORNING + </h1> + <h1> + <i>The Story of an Irish Girl</i> + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By L. T. Meade + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — NORA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — “SOME MORE OF THE LAND MUST + GO.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — THE WILD MURPHYS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — THE INVITATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — “I AM ASHAMED OF YOU.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — THE CAVE OF THE BANSHEE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — THE MURPHYS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — THE SQUIRE'S TROUBLE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — EDUCATION AND OTHER THINGS. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — THE INVITATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — THE DIAMOND CROSS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — A FEATHER-BED HOUSE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — “THERE'S MOLLY.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — BITS OF SLANG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — TWO LETTERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — A CHEEKY IRISH GIRL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — TWO DESCRIPTIONS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — A COMPACT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — SHE WILL SOON TAME DOWN. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — STEPHANOTIE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — THE ROSE-COLORED DRESS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. — LETTERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. — THE BOX OF BON-BONS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. — THE TELEGRAM, </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. — THE BLOW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. — TEN POUNDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. — ADVENTURES—AND HOME + AGAIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE WILD IRISH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. — ALTERATIONS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. — THE LION IN HIS CAGE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. — RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. — ANDY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. — THE CABIN ON THE + MOUNTAIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. — A DARING DEED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. — THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. — “I'M A HAPPY MAN!” </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — NORA. + </h2> + <p> + “Why, then, Miss Nora—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Hannah?” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't see the masther going this way, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Hannah? Father is never at home at this hour.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought maybe—” said Hannah. She spoke in a dubious voice, + backing a little away. + </p> + <p> + Hannah was a small, squat woman, of a truly Irish type. Her nose was + celestial, her mouth wide, her eyes dark, and sparkling with fun. She was + dressed in a short, coarse serge petticoat, with what is called a bedgown + over it; the bedgown was made of striped calico, yellow and red, and was + tied in at the waist with a broad band of the same. Hannah's hair was + strongly inclined to gray, and her humorous face was covered with a + perfect network of wrinkles. She showed a gleam of snowy teeth now, as she + looked full at the young girl whom she was addressing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then, Miss Nora,” she said, “it's I that am sorry for yez.” + </p> + <p> + Before Nora O'Shanaghgan could utter a word Hannah had turned on her heel. + </p> + <p> + “Come back, Hannah,” said Nora in an imperious voice. + </p> + <p> + “Presently, darlint; it's the childer I hear calling me. Coming, Mike + asthore, coming.” + </p> + <p> + The squat little figure flew down a side walk which led to a paddock: + beyond the paddock was a turnstile, and at the farther end of an adjacent + field a cabin made of mud, with one tiny window and a thatched roof. + Hannah was making for the cabin with rapid, waddling strides. Nora stood + in the middle of the broad sweep which led up to the front door of the old + house. + </p> + <p> + Castle O'Shanaghgan was a typical Irish home of the ancient rĂ©gime. The + house, a great square pile, was roomy and spacious; it had innumerable + staircases, and long passages through which the wind shrieked on stormy + nights, and a great castellated tower at its north end. This tower was in + ruins, and had been given up a long time ago to the exclusive tenancy of + the bats, the owls, and rats so large and fierce that the very dogs were + afraid of them. In the tower at night the neighbors affirmed that they + heard shrieks and ghostly noises; and Nora, whose bedroom was nearest to + it, rejoiced much in the distinction of having twice heard the + O'Shanaghgan Banshee keening outside her window. Nora was a slender, tall, + and very graceful girl of about seventeen, and her face was as typical of + the true, somewhat wild, Irish beauty as Hannah Croneen's was the reverse. + </p> + <p> + In the southwest of Ireland there are traces of Spanish as well as Celtic + blood in many of its women; and Nora's quantities of thick, soft, + intensely black hair must have come to her from a Spanish ancestor. So + also did the delicately marked black brows and the black lashes to her + dark and very lovely blue eyes; but the clear complexion, the cheeks with + the tenderest bloom on them, the softly dimpled lips red as coral, and the + little teeth white as pearls were true Irish characteristics. + </p> + <p> + Nora waited for a moment after Hannah had left her, then, shading her eyes + from the westerly sun by one hand, she turned slowly and went into the + house. + </p> + <p> + “Where is mother, Pegeen?” she said to a rough-looking, somewhat + slatternly servant who was crossing the hall. + </p> + <p> + “In the north parlor, Miss Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along, then, Creena; come along, Cushla,” said the girl, addressing + two handsome black Pomeranians who rushed to meet her. The dogs leaped up + at her with expressions of rapture, and girl and dogs careered with a wild + dance across the great, broad hall in the direction of the north parlor. + Nora opened the door with a somewhat noisy bang, the dogs precipitated + themselves into the room, and she followed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then, mother dear! and have I disturbed you?” she said. + </p> + <p> + A pale-faced lady, who was lying full-length on a very old and hard sofa, + rose with a querulous expression on her face when Nora entered. + </p> + <p> + “I wish someone would teach you thoughtfulness,” she said; “you are the + most tiresome girl in the world. I have been two hours trying to get a + wink of sleep, and just when I succeed you come in and wake me.” + </p> + <p> + “It's sorry I am to my heart's core,” said Nora. She went up to her + mother, dropped on one knee, and looked with her rosy face into the worn + and faded one of the elder woman. “Here I am, mammy,” she said again, + “your own little Nora; let me sit with you a bit—may I?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan smiled faintly. She looked all over the girl's slim + figure, and finally her eyes rested on the laughing, lovely face. Then a + cloud crossed her forehead, and her eyes became dim with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard the last thing, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “There are so many last things, mother,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “But the very last. Your father has to pay back the money which Squire + Murphy of Cronane lent him. It is the queerest thing; but the mortgagee + means to foreclose, as he calls it, within three months if that money is + not paid in full. I know well what it means.” + </p> + <p> + Nora smiled. She took her mother's hand in hers, and began to stroke it + gently. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” she said, “it means this. It means that we must part with a + little more of the beloved land, every sod of which I love. We certainly + do seem to be getting poorer and poorer; but never mind—nothing will + ever alter the fact that—” + </p> + <p> + “That what, child?” + </p> + <p> + “That we O'Shanaghgans are the proudest and oldest family in the county, + and that there is scarcely an Englishman across the water who would not + give all he possesses to change places with us.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk like a silly child,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan; “and please + remember that I am English.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mummy, I am so sorry!” said the girl. She laid her soft head down on + the sofa, pressing it against her mother's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think of you as English,” she said. “You have lived here all, + all my life. You belong to father, and you belong to Terence and me—what + have you to do with the cold English?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember a time,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, “when I thought Ireland the + most desolate and God-forsaken place on the earth. It is true I have + become accustomed to it now. But, Nora, if you only could realize what my + old home was really like.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to realize any home different from this,” said the girl, a + cloud shading her bright eyes for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “You are silly and prejudiced,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. “It is a great + trial to me to have a daughter so unsympathetic.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mummy! I don't mean to be unsympathetic. There now, we are quite cozy + together. Tell me one of the old stories; I do so love to listen.” + </p> + <p> + The frown cleared from Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's forehead, and the peevish lines + went out of her face. She began to talk with animation and excitement. + Nora knew exactly what she was going to say. She had heard the story so + often; but, although she had heard it hundreds and thousands of times, she + was never tired of listening to the history of a trim life of which she + knew absolutely nothing. The orderly, well-dressed servants, the punctual + meals, the good and abundant food, the nice dresses, the parties, the + solid education, the discipline so foreign to her own existence, all—all + held their proper fascination. But although she listened with delight to + these stories of a bygone time, she never envied her mother those periods + of prosperity. Such a life would have been a prison to her; so she + thought, although she never spoke her thought aloud. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan began the old tale to-night, telling it with a little + more <i>verve</i> even than usual. She ended at last with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the beautiful old times!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But you didn't know father then,” answered Nora, a frown coming to her + brows, and an angry feeling for a moment visiting her warm heart. “You + didn't have father, nor Nora, nor Terry.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not, darling, and you make up for much; but, Nora dear, + although I love my husband and my children, I hate this country. I hate + it!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, mother,” said Nora, with a look of pain. She started to her feet. + At that moment loud, strong steps were heard in the hall; a hearty voice + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Where's Light o' the Morning? Where have you hidden yourself, witch?” + </p> + <p> + “It's father,” said Nora. She said the words with a sort of gasp of + rejoicing, and the next moment had dashed out of the room. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — “SOME MORE OF THE LAND MUST GO.” + </h2> + <p> + Squire O'Shanaghgan was a tall, powerfully built man, with deep-set eyes + and rugged, overhanging brows; his hair was of a grizzled gray, very thick + and abundant; he had a shaggy beard, too, and a long overhanging mustache. + He entered the north parlor still more noisily than Nora had done. The + dogs yelped with delight, and flung themselves upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Down, Creena! down, Cushla!” he said. “Ah, then, Nora, they are as + bewitching as yourself, little woman. What beauties they are growing, to + be sure!” + </p> + <p> + “I reared them,” said Nora. “I am proud of them both. At one time I + thought Creena could not live; but look at her now—her coat as black + as jet, and so silky.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut the door, won't you, Patrick?” said his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! I forgot,” said the Squire. He crossed the room, and, with an + effort after quietness, closed the door with one foot; then he seated + himself by his wife's side. + </p> + <p> + “Better, Eileen?” he said, looking at her anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would not call me Eileen,” she said. “I hate to have my name + Irishized.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire's eyes filled with suppressed fun. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you are half-Irish, whether you like it or not,” he said. “Is not + she, colleen? Bless me, what a day it has turned out! We are getting + summer weather at last. What do you say to going for a drive, Eileen—Ellen, + I mean? Black Bess is eating her head off in the stables. I want to go as + far as Murphy's place, and you might as well come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “And I too?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, child. Why not? You run round to the stables, Norrie, and + give the order.” + </p> + <p> + Nora instantly left the room, the dogs following her. + </p> + <p> + “What ails her?” said the Squire, looking at his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Ails her, Pat? Nothing that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know very little,” was his answer. “I never see that sort of + anxious frown between the colleen's brows without knowing there's mischief + in the wind. Somebody has been worrying her, and I won't have it.” He put + down his great hand with a thump on the nearest table. + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Pat. You quite shatter my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you and your nerves, Ellen. I want to give them all possible + consideration; but I won't have Light o' the Morning worried.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll spoil that girl; you'll rue it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless her heart! I couldn't spoil her; she's unspoilable. Did you ever + see a sweeter bit of a thing, sound to the core, through and through?” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet or not,” said the mother, “she has got to learn her lesson of life; + and it is no good to be too tender with her; she wants a little bracing.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been trying that on—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not exactly, Pat; but you cannot expect me to keep all our troubles + to ourselves. There's that mortgage, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Bother the mortgage!” said the Squire. “Why do you harp on things the way + you do? I'll manage it right enough. I am going round to see Dan Murphy + now; he won't be hard on an old friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but have you not to pay up?” + </p> + <p> + “Some day, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Now listen, Patrick. Do be reasonable. Whenever I speak of money you + fight shy of the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't—I don't,” said the Squire restlessly; “but I am dead tired. + I have had a ride of thirty miles; I want my tea. Where is Nora? Do you + mind my calling her? She'll order Pegeen to bring the tea here.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I won't have it. We'll have tea in the dining room presently. I + thought you objected to afternoon tea.” + </p> + <p> + “So I do, as a rule; but I am mighty dhry—thirsty, I mean, Ellen. + Well, all the better; I'll get more to drink in the dining room. Order the + tea as soon as you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Ring the bell, Patrick.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire strode to the mantelpiece, pulled a bell-cord which hung from + the ceiling, a distant bell was heard ringing in noisy fashion, and a + moment afterward Pegeen put in her head. + </p> + <p> + “Come right in, Margaret,” said her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Aw! then, I'm sorry, ma'am, I forgot,” said the girl. She came in, hiding + both her hands under her apron. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan uttered an impatient sigh. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible to train these creatures,” she said under her breath. + Aloud, she gave her order in quiet, impassive tones: + </p> + <p> + “Tea as soon as possible in the west parlor, and sound the gong when it is + ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, wasn't I getting it?” said Pegeen. She left the room, leaving + the door wide open. + </p> + <p> + “Just like them,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. “When you want the door open + they invariably shut it, and when you want it shut they leave it open.” + </p> + <p> + “They do that in England too, as far as I can tell,” said the Squire, with + a slightly nettled tone in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, Patrick, while we have a few moments to ourselves, I want to + know what you mean to do about that ten thousand pounds?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, Ellen, it is more than I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have to pay it, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, some day. I'll speak to Dan to-night. He is the last man to + be hard on a chap.” + </p> + <p> + “Some more of the land must go,” said the wife in a fretful tone. “Our + rent-roll will be still smaller. There will be still less money to educate + Terence. I had set my heart on his going to Cambridge or Oxford. You quite + forget that he is eighteen now.” + </p> + <p> + “Cambridge or Oxford!” said the Squire. “Not a bit of it. My son shall + either go to Old Trinity or he does without a university education. + Cambridge or Oxford indeed! You forget, Ellen, that the lad is my son as + well as yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't; but he is half an Englishman, three parts an Englishman, + whatever his fatherhood,” said the Squire's wife in a tone of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! he is Terence O'Shanaghgan, for all that, and he will inherit + this old place some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Much there will be for him to inherit.” + </p> + <p> + Eager steps were heard on the gravel, and the next instant Nora entered by + the open window. + </p> + <p> + “I have given the order,” she said; “Angus will have the trap round in a + quarter of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right, my girl; you didn't let time drag,” said her father. + </p> + <p> + “Angus wants you and mother to be quite ready, for he says Black Bess is + nearly off her head with spirit. Now, then, mother, shall I go upstairs + and bring down your things?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mind if you do, Nora; my back aches a good bit.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll put the air-cushion in the trap,” said the Squire, who, + notwithstanding her fine-lady airs, had a great respect and admiration for + his wife. “We'll make you right cozy, Ellen, and a rattle through the air + will do you a sight of good.” + </p> + <p> + “May I drive, father?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “You, little one? Suppose you bring Black Bess down on her knees? That + horse is worth three hundred pounds, if she's worth a penny.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I would?” said the girl reproachfully. “Now, dad, that is + about the cruelest word you have said to your Nora for many a day.” + </p> + <p> + “Come and give me a hug, colleen,” said the Squire. + </p> + <p> + Nora ran to him, clasped her arms round his neck, and kissed him once or + twice. He had moved away to the other end of the room, and now he looked + her full in the face. + </p> + <p> + “You are fretting about something?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I—not I,” said the girl; but she flushed. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, colleen,” said the Squire; “if it is that bit of a + mortgage, you get it right out of your head. It's not going to worry <i>me</i>. + I am going this very evening to have a talk with Dan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if it is Dan Murphy you owe it to,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he's all right; he's the right sort; a chip of the old block—eh? + He wouldn't be hard on a brother in adversity?” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn't if he could help it,” said Nora; but the cloud had not left + her sensitive face. Then, seeing that father looked at her with intense + anxiety, she made a valiant effort. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I believe in you,” she said; “and, indeed, what does the loss + of money matter while we are together?” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are! right you are!” said the Squire, with a laugh. He clapped + her on the shoulder. “Trust Light o' the Morning to look at things in the + right direction,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — THE WILD MURPHYS. + </h2> + <p> + Terence made his appearance at the tea table. In every respect he was a + contrast to Nora. He was very good-looking—strikingly handsome, in + fact; tall, with a graceful elegance of deportment which was in striking + contrast to the burly figure of the old Squire. His face was of a + nut-brown hue; his eyes dark and piercing; his features straight. Young as + he was, there were the first indications of a black silky mustache on his + short upper lip, and his clustering black curls grew in a high ridge off a + lofty brow. Terence had the somewhat languid air which more or less + characterized all his mother's movements. He was devoted to her, and took + his seat now by her side. She laid her very thin and slender hand on his + arm. He did not respond by look or movement to the gesture of affection; + but had a very close observer been present he would have noticed that he + drew his chair about the tenth of an inch nearer to hers. + </p> + <p> + Nora and her father at the other end of the table were chattering volubly. + Nora's face was all smiles; every vestige of that little cloud which had + sat between her dark brows a few moments before had vanished. Her blue + eyes were sparkling with fun. + </p> + <p> + The Squire made brilliant sally after sally, to which she responded with + all an Irish girl's aptitude for repartee. + </p> + <p> + Terence and his mother conversed in low tones. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother,” he was saying, “I had a letter from Uncle George this + morning; he wants me to go next week. Do you think you can manage?” + </p> + <p> + “How long will you be away, Terence?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; a couple of months, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “How much money will it cost?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall want an evening suit, and a new dress-suit, and something for + everyday. These things are disgraceful,” said the lad, just glancing at + the frayed coat-sleeve, beneath which showed a linen cuff of immaculate + whiteness. + </p> + <p> + Terence was always the personification of fastidiousness in his dress, and + for this trait in his character alone Mrs. O'Shanaghgan adored him. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it,” she said—“somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must reply tonight,” he continued. “Shall I ask the governor, or + will you?” + </p> + <p> + “We won't worry him, Terry; I can manage.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her a little anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to sell any more of them?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There is a gold chain and that diamond ring; I never wear either. I would + fifty times rather think that you were enjoying yourself with my relations + in England. You are fitted to grace any society. Do not say another word, + my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the very best and noblest mother in the world,” said the lad with + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Nora and her father continued their gay conversation. + </p> + <p> + “We will take a basket with us,” said Nora, “and Bridget shall give me a + couple of dozen more of those little brown eggs. Mrs. Perch shall have a + brood of chicks if I can manage it.” + </p> + <p> + “Trust the girleen for that,” said the Squire, and then they rose from + table. + </p> + <p> + “Ellen,” he continued, addressing his wife, “have you and Terence done + colloguing together? for I hear Black Bess coming to the front door.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hasten, mother; hasten!” said Nora. “The mare won't stand waiting; + she is so fresh she is just ready to fly.” + </p> + <p> + The next few moments witnessed a scene of considerable bustle. Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan, with all her English nerves, had plenty of pluck, and would + scorn to show even a vestige of fear before the hangers-on, as she called + the numerous ragged urchins who appeared from every quarter on each + imaginable occasion. Although she was shaking from head to foot with + absolute terror at the thought of a drive behind Black Bess, she stepped + into her seat in the tall dog-cart without a remark. The mare fidgeted and + half reared. + </p> + <p> + “Whoa! whoa! Black Bess, my beauty!” said the Squire. The groom, a + bright-faced lad, with a wisp of yellow hair falling over his forehead, + held firmly to the reins. Nora jumped up beside her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to drive?” asked that lady. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mummy; you know I can. Whoa, Black Bess! it's me,” said the girl. + She took the reins in her capable little hands; the Squire sprang up + behind, and Black Bess flew down the avenue as if on the wings of the + wind. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan gave one hurried pant of suppressed anguish, and then + sat perfectly still, her lips set, her hands tightly locked together. She + endured these drives almost daily, but had never yet got accustomed to + them. Nora, on the contrary, as they spun through the air, felt her + spirits rising; the hot young blood coursed through her veins, and her + eyes blazed with fun and happiness. She looked back at her father, who + nodded to her briefly. + </p> + <p> + “That's it, Nora; keep her well in. Now that we are going uphill you can + give her her head a bit. Whoa, Black Bess! Whoa!” + </p> + <p> + The mare, after her first wild canter, settled into a more jog-trot gait, + and the dog-cart did not sway so violently from side to side. They were + soon careering along a wide, well-made road, which ran for many miles + along the top of some high cliffs. Below them, at their feet, the wild + Atlantic waves curled and burst in innumerable fountains of spray; the + roar of the waves came up to their ears, and the breath of the salt + breeze, the freshest and most invigorating in the world, fanned their + cheeks. Even Mrs. O'Shanaghgan felt her heart beating less wildly, and + ventured to put a question or two to Nora with regard to the clucking hen, + Mrs. Perch. + </p> + <p> + “I have not forgotten the basket, mammy,” said the girl; “and Hannah will + put the eggs under the hen tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite certain that Hannah mismanaged the last brood,” said Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan; “but everything goes wrong at the Castle just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother, hush! he will hear,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “It is just like you, Nora; you wish to keep——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, now,” said the Squire; “I hear the grumbles beginning. No + grumbles when we are having our ride—eh, Ellen? I want you to come + back with a hearty appetite for dinner, and a hearty inclination to sleep + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + They drove faster and faster. Occasionally Nora touched the mare the + faintest little flick with the end of her long whip. The creature + responded to her touch as though girl and horse were one. + </p> + <p> + At last they drew up outside a dilapidated gate, one hinge of which was + off. The Squire jumped down from his seat, came round, and held the + horse's head. + </p> + <p> + “Whoa! whoa!” he said. “Hullo, you, Mike! Why aren't you in your place? + Come and open the gate this minute, lad.” + </p> + <p> + A small boy, with bare feet and ragged trousers, came hurrying, head over + heels, down the road. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan shuddered and shut her eyes. The + gate was swung open. Nora led the mare skillfully round a somewhat sharp + corner, and the next instant they were dashing with headlong speed up a + steep avenue. It was neglected; weeds grew all over it, and the adjacent + meadows were scarcely distinguishable from the avenue itself. + </p> + <p> + The Squire ran after the dog-cart, and leaped up while the mare was going + at full speed. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, father!” called back Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven preserve us!” thought Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, who still sat speechless, + and as if made of iron. + </p> + <p> + At last they reached a long, rambling old house, with many small windows, + interspersed with a few of enormous dimensions. These were called + parliament windows, and had been put into many houses of that period in + order to avoid the window-tax. Most of the windows were open, and out of + some of them ragged towels were drying in the evening breeze. About half a + dozen dogs, most of which were of mongrel breed, rushed forward at the + sound of the wheels, barking vociferously. Nora, with a dexterous touch of + her hand, drew the mare up just in front of the mansion, and then sprang + lightly to her feet.' + </p> + <p> + “Now, mother, shall I help you down?” + </p> + <p> + “You had better find out first if Mrs. Murphy is in,” said the Squire's + wife. + </p> + <p> + A ragged urchin, such as seemed to abound like mushrooms in the place, + came and held the reins close to the horse's mouth. The creature stood + trembling from the violence of her exertions, and pouring down moisture at + every pore. “She wants to be well rubbed down,” said the Squire. “She + doesn't get half exercise enough; this will never do. What if I have to + make money on her, and she is spoiled?” + </p> + <p> + The low words which came to his lips were not heard by anyone; there was a + frown, very like Nora's own, between his brows. The next moment a small + man, with reddish hair, in a very shabby suit of half-worn tweed, appeared + on the steps of the front door. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, O'Shanaghgan, is that yourself?” he called out. “How are you, Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan? Right glad to see you. You'll step inside—won't you? I + believe the wife is somewhere round. Neil, my man, go and look for the + missus. Tell her that Madam O'Shanaghgan is here, and the Squire. Well, + Nora, I suppose you are wanting a chat with Bridget? You won't find her + indoors this fine evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she, Mr. Murphy?” asked the girl. “I do want to have a talk with + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what's the basket for?” + </p> + <p> + “I want her to give me some of the pretty brown eggs.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go right down there by the sea-path, and you'll find her, as likely + as not.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” answered Nora. Slinging her basket on her arm, she started + for her walk. As soon as she was out of sight she began to run. Presently + she stopped and began whistling “The Wearing of the Green,” which was + responded to in a moment by another voice, sweet as that of a blackbird. + She looked to right and left, and presently saw a pair of laughing black + eyes looking down at her from beneath the shelter of a huge oak tree. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am. Will you climb up?” said the voice of Bridget Murphy. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a hand, and I'll be up with you in a moment,” said Nora. She + tossed her basket on the ground; a very firm, little brown hand was + extended; and the next moment the girls were seated side by side on a + stout branch of the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what has brought you along here?” said Bridget. + </p> + <p> + “I came with father and mother in the dog-cart,” replied Nora. “Father let + me drive Black Bess. I had a jolly time; but she did pull a bit—my + wrists are quite stiff.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you have come,” said the other girl. “I was having a concert + all by myself. I can imitate the thrush, the blackbird, and most of the + birds round here. Shall I do the thrush for you?” + </p> + <p> + Before Nora could speak she began imitating the full liquid notes of the + bird to perfection. + </p> + <p> + “I declare you have a genius for it,” said Nora. “But how are you + yourself, Biddy?” + </p> + <p> + “What should ail me?” replied Biddy. “I never had a care nor a worry nor a + trouble yet; the day is long, and my heart is light. I am at peace, and I + never had an ache in my body yet. But what is up with you, Nora alannah?” + </p> + <p> + “It's that mortgage, you know,” said Nora, dropping her voice. “What is + your father going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the mortgage,” said Bridget. “Mr. Morgan came down from Dublin + yesterday; he and father had a long talk. I don't know. I believe there's + worry in the air, and when there is I always steer clear of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you; don't question me. I am glad you have come. Can't you + stay for the night?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't. I must go back with father and mother. The fact is this, + Bridget, I believe your father would do anything in the world for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he would. What do you want to coax out of me now? Oh, Nora + alannah! don't let us talk of worries. Come down to the sea with me—won't + you? I have found the most lovely cave. I mean to explore it with + lanterns. You go into the cave, and you can walk in nearly half a mile; + and then it takes a sudden turn to the right, and they say there's an + entrance into another cave, and just beyond that there's a ghost supposed + to be. Some people say it is the home of the O'Shanaghgans' Banshee; but + whatever it is, I mean to see all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean the Sea-Nymphs' Cave?” said Nora. “But you can only get to + that by crossing the bay.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Well, I am going tomorrow night; the moon is at the full. You will + come over and go with me—won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I wish I could.” + </p> + <p> + “But why can't you? Don't let us worry about fathers and mothers. We're a + pair of girls, and must have our own larks. There's Neil and there's Mike; + they will get the boat all ready, and we can start off for the cave just + when the tide is high; we can only get in then. We'll run the boat in as + far as it will go, and we'll see what we'll see. You will come—won't + you, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like it of all things in the world,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not? You can come over tomorrow afternoon, and stay the night + here. Just say that I have asked you.” + </p> + <p> + “But mother does not much like my sleeping out.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that she does not like you to sleep at the house of the wild + Murphys—that's what you mean, Nora. Then, get away; I don't want to + force my company on you. I am as good as any other girl in Ireland; I have + the blood of the old Irish kings in my veins; but if you are too proud to + come, why——” + </p> + <p> + “I am not, and you know it,” said Nora; “but mother is an Englishwoman, + and she thinks we are all a little rough, you and I into the bargain. All + the same, I'll come to-morrow. I do want to explore that cave. Yes, I'll + come if you give me a proper invitation before mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mercy me!” said the girl, “must I go back to the house? I am so + precious shabby, and your lady-mother has got such piercing eyes. But + there, we can smuggle in the back way. I'll go up to my room and put on my + bits of finery. Bedad! but I look as handsome as the best when I am + dressed up. Come along, Nora; we'll get in the back way, and I'll give the + invitation in proper style.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — THE INVITATION. + </h2> + <p> + Bridget and Nora began to climb up a very steep and narrow winding path. + It was nothing more than a grass path in the midst of a lot of rock and + underwood, but the girls were like young chamois, and leaped over such + obstacles with the lightness of fawns. Presently they arrived at the back + entrance of Cronane, the Murphys' decidedly dilapidated residence. They + had to cross a courtyard covered with rough cobbles and in a sad state of + neglect and mess. Some pigs were wallowing in the mire in one corner, and + a rough pony was tethered to a post not far off; he was endeavoring, with + painful insistence, to reach a clump of hay which was sticking out of a + hayrick a foot or two away. Nora, seeing his wistful eyes, sprang forward, + pulled a great handful of the hay, and held it to his mouth. The little + creature almost whinnied with delight. + </p> + <p> + “There you are,” said Bridget. “What right have you to give our hay to + that pony?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense,” said Nora; “the heart in him was starving.” She flung her + arms round the pony's neck, pressed a kiss on his forehead, and continued + to cross the yard with Biddy. Two or three ragged urchins soon impeded + their path; one of them was the redoubtable Neil, the other Mike. + </p> + <p> + “Is it to-morrow night you want the boat, Miss Biddy?” said Neil. + </p> + <p> + Bridget dropped her voice to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Neil,” she said, “mum's the word; you are not to let it out to + a soul. You and Mike shall come with us, and Miss Nora is coming too.” + </p> + <p> + Neil cast a bashful and admiring glance at handsome Nora, as she stood + very erect by Biddy's side. + </p> + <p> + “All right, miss,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “At ten o'clock,” said Bridget; “have the boat in the cove then, and we'll + be down there and ready.” + </p> + <p> + “But they say, miss, that the Banshee is out on the nights when the moon + is at the full.” + </p> + <p> + “The O'Shanaghgans' Banshee,” said Biddy, glancing at Nora, whose face did + not change a muscle, although the brightness and wistfulness in her eyes + were abundantly visible. She was saying to herself: + </p> + <p> + “I would give all the world to speak to the Banshee alone—to ask her + to get father out of his difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + She was half-ashamed of these thoughts, although she knew and almost + gloried in the fact that she was superstitious to her heart's core. + </p> + <p> + She and Biddy soon entered the house by the back entrance, and ran up some + carpetless stairs to Biddy's own room. This was a huge bedroom, carpetless + and nearly bare. A little camp-bed stood in one corner, covered by a + colored counterpane; there was a strip of carpet beside the bed, and + another tiny strip by a wooden washhand-stand. The two great parliament + windows were destitute of any curtain or even blind; they stared blankly + out across the lovely summer landscape as hideous as windows could be. + </p> + <p> + It was a perfect summer's evening; but even now the old frames rattled and + shook, and gave some idea of how they would behave were a storm abroad. + </p> + <p> + Biddy, who was quite accustomed to her room and never dreamed that any + maiden could sleep in a more luxurious chamber, crossed it to where a huge + wooden wardrobe stood. She unlocked the door, and took from its depths a + pale-blue skirt trimmed with quantities of dirty pink flounces. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are not going to put <i>that</i> on,” said Nora, whose own + training had made her sensitive to incongruity in dress. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am,” said Biddy. “How can I see your lady-mother in this style of + thing?” + </p> + <p> + She went and stood in front of Nora with her arms akimbo. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” she said, “my frock has a rent from here to here, and this + petticoat is none of the best, and my stockings—well, I know it is + my own fault, but I <i>won't</i> darn them, and there is a great hole just + above the heel. Now, this skirt will hide all blemishes.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will your mother say?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless her!” said Biddy, “she won't even notice. Here, let's whip on the + dress.” + </p> + <p> + She hastily divested herself of her ragged cotton skirt, and put on the + pale blue with the dirty silk flounces. + </p> + <p> + “What are you looking so grave for?” she said, glancing up at Nora. “I + declare you're too stately for anything, Nora O'Shanaghgan! You stand + there, and I know you criticise me.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I love you too much,” replied Nora. “You are Biddy Murphy, one of my + greatest friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it's sweet to hear her,” said Biddy. + </p> + <p> + “But, all the same,” continued Nora, “I don't like that dress, and it's + terribly unsuitable. You don't look ladylike in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ladylike, and I with the blood of——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't begin that,” said Nora; “every time I see you you mention that + fact. I have not the slightest doubt that the old kings were ruffians, and + dressed abominably.” + </p> + <p> + “If you dare,” said Biddy. She rushed up to the bed, dragged out her + pillow, and held it in a warlike attitude. “Another word about my + ancestors, and this will be at your devoted head!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Nora burst into a merry laugh. + </p> + <p> + “There, now, that's better,” said Biddy. She dropped the pillow and + proceeded with her toilet. The dirty skirt with its tawdry flounces was + surmounted by a bodice of the same material, equally unsuitable. + </p> + <p> + Biddy brushed out her mop of jet-black hair, which grew in thick curls all + over her head and stood out like a mop round her shoulders. She was a + plain girl, with small, very black eyes, a turned-up nose, and a wide + mouth; but there was an irresistible expression of drollery in her face, + and when she laughed, showing her milk-white teeth, there were people who + even thought her attractive. Nora really loved her, although the two, + standing side by side, were, as far as appearances were concerned, as the + poles asunder. + </p> + <p> + “Now, come along,” said Biddy. “I know I look perfectly charming. Oh, what + a sweet, sweet blue it is, and these ducky little flounces! It was Aunt + Mary O'Flannagan sent me this dress at Christmas. She wore it at a fancy + ball, and said it might suit me. It does, down to the ground. Let me drop + a courtesy to you, Nora O'Shanaghgan. Oh, how proper we look! But I don't + care! Now I'm not afraid to face anyone—why, the old kings would + have been proud of me. Come along—do.” + </p> + <p> + She caught Nora's hand; they dashed down the wide, carpetless stairs, + crossed a huge hall, and entered a room which was known as the drawing + room at Cronane. It was an enormous apartment, but bore the same traces of + neglect and dirt which the whole of the rest of the house testified to. + The paper on the walls was moldy in patches, and in one or two places it + had detached itself from the wall and fell in great sheets to the ground. + One loose piece of paper was tacked up with two or three huge tacks, and + bulged out, swaying with the slightest breeze. The carpet, which covered + the entire floor, was worn threadbare; but, to make up for these defects, + there were cabinets of the rarest and most exquisite old china, some of + the pieces being worth fabulous sums. Vases of the same china adorned the + tall marble mantelpiece, and stood on brackets here and there about the + room. There were also some exquisite and wonderfully carved oak, a Queen + Anne sofa, and several spindle-legged chairs. An old spinet stood in a + distant window, and the drab moreen curtains had once been handsome. + </p> + <p> + Standing on the hearth, with his elbow resting on the marble mantelpiece + close to a unique vase of antique design, stood Squire O'Shanaghgan. He + was talking in pleasant and genial tones to Mrs. Murphy, a podgy little + woman, with a great likeness to Biddy. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Murphy wore a black alpaca dress and a little three-cornered knitted + shawl across her shoulders. She had gray hair, which curled tightly like + her daughter's; on top of it was a cap formed of rusty black velvet and + equally rusty black lace. She looked much excited at the advent of the + Squire, and her cheeks testified to the fact by the brightness of their + color. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Murphy was doing penance opposite to Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. He was + dreadfully afraid of that stately lady, and was glancing nervously round + at his wife and the Squire from moment to moment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam,” he was saying, “it's turnips we are going to plant in that + field just yonder. We have had a very good crop of hay too. It is a fine + season, and the potatoes promise to be a sight for sore eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate the very name of that root,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan in her most + drawling tones. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, ma'am, you don't say so,” answered Murphy; “it seems hard on + the poor things that keep us all going. The potheen and the potatoes—what + would Ireland be without 'em? Glory be to goodness, it's quite awful to + hear you abusing the potato, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “I am English, you know,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + On this scene Nora and Biddy entered. Mr. Murphy glanced with intense + relief at his daughter. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan slightly raised her brows. It + was the faintest of movements, but the superciliousness of the action + smote upon Nora, who colored painfully. + </p> + <p> + Biddy, taking her courage in her hand, went straight up to the august + lady. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan extended her hand with a limp action. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” panted Biddy. + </p> + <p> + “What is up, my dear Bridget?” said her mother, turning round and looking + at her daughter. “Oh, to goodness, what have you put that on for? It's + your very best Sunday-go-to-meeting dress, and you won't have another, I + can tell you, for six months.” + </p> + <p> + “There now, mother, hush, do,” said Biddy. “I have put it on for a + purpose. Why, then, it's sweet I want to make myself, and I believe it's + sweet I look. Oh, there's the mirror; let me gaze at myself.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed the room, and stood in front of a long glass, examining her + unsuitable dress from the front and side; and then, being thoroughly + satisfied with the elegance of appearance, she went back and stood in + front of Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “It's a request I want to make of you, ma'am,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Biddy, I will listen to it if you will ask me properly,” said Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure,” said Biddy. “How shall I say it?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak quietly, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Biddy, I do wish you would take pattern by Nora, and by Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan,” said Mrs. Murphy, who in her heart of hearts envied Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan's icy manners, and thought them the most perfect in all the + world. She was in mortal fear of this good lady, even more terrified of + her than her husband was. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Biddy,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “May Nora come and spend tomorrow night here?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” was on Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's lips; but just then the Squire came + forward. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure she may; it will do her a sight of good. The child hardly ever + goes from home.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan raised displeased eyes to her husband's face. + </p> + <p> + “Girls of Nora's age ought to stay at home,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure, to be sure,” said the Squire; “and we would miss her + awfully if she was away from us; but a day or two off duty—eh, + madam?” He glanced at his wife. + </p> + <p> + “You have your answer, Biddy,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan; “her father wishes + Nora to accept your invitation. She may stay away for one night—no + longer.” + </p> + <p> + Biddy winked broadly round at Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” she said, “come along.” She seized her friend by the arm, and + whisked her out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “It was the dress that did it,” she said; “it is the loveliest garment in + all the world. Come along now, and let's take it off. I want to gather + those eggs for you.” + </p> + <p> + She ran upstairs again, followed by Nora. The dress was disposed of in the + large wooden wardrobe, the old torn frock readjusted on Biddy's stout + form, and the girls went out into the lovely summer air. The eggs which + Nora required were put into the little basket, and in half an hour the + O'Shanaghgans' party were returning at full speed to Castle O'Shanaghgan. + Nora glanced once into her father's face, and her heart gave a great leap. + Her high spirits left her as if by magic; she felt a lump in her throat, + and during the rest of the drive hardly spoke. + </p> + <p> + The Squire, on the contrary, talked incessantly. He talked more than ever + after Nora had looked at him. He slapped his wife on the shoulder, and + complimented her on her bravery. Nora's driving was the very best in all + the world; she was a born whip; she had no fear in her; she was his own + colleen, the Light o' the Morning, the dearest, sweetest soul on earth. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghan replied very briefly and coldly to her husband's excited + words. She treated them with what she imagined the contempt they deserved; + but Nora was neither elated just then by her father's praise nor chilled + by her mother's demeanor. Every thought of her heart, every nerve in her + highly strung frame, was concentrated on one fact alone—she had + surprised a look, a look on the Squire's face, which told her that his + heart was broken. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — “I AM ASHAMED OF YOU.” + </h2> + <p> + It was late that same evening, and the household at the Castle had all + retired to rest. Nora was in her own room. This room was not furnished + according to an English girl's fancy. It was plain and bare, but, compared + to Biddy Murphy's chamber, it was a room of comfort and even luxury. A + neat carpet covered the floor, there were white dimity curtains to the + windows, and the little bed in its distant recess looked neat and + comfortable. It is true that the washhand-stand was wooden, and the basin + and jug of the plainest type; but Mrs. O'Shanaghgan herself saw that Nora + had at least what she considered the necessaries of life. She had a neat + hanging-press for her dresses, and a pretty chest of drawers, which her + mother herself had saved up her pin-money to buy for her. + </p> + <p> + Nora now stood by one of the open windows, her thick and very long black + hair hanging in a rippling mass over her neck and shoulders. Suddenly, as + she bent out of the window, the faint, very faint perfume of a cigar came + up on the night air. She sniffed excitedly for a moment, and then, bending + a little more forward, said in a low tone: + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Terry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—why don't you go to bed?” was the somewhat ungracious response. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sleepy. May I come down and join you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you come up and join me?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was about to be “No”; there was a moment's hesitation, then + Nora's voice said pleadingly, “Ah, do now, Terry; I want to say something + so badly.” + </p> + <p> + “But if anybody hears?” + </p> + <p> + “They can't hear. Father and mother's room is at the other end of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; don't say any more; you'll wake people with that chatter of + yours. I'm coming.” + </p> + <p> + In a couple of minutes there was a knock at Nora's door. She flew to open + it, and Terence came in. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “To talk to you; I have got something to say. Come over and sit by the + window.” + </p> + <p> + Terence obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “The first thing to do is to put out that light,” said Nora. She ran to + the dressing table, and before her brother could prevent her had + extinguished the candle. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, there is the dear old lady moon to look down upon us, and + nothing else can see us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you go to bed, Nora? Hannah would say that you are losing your + beauty-sleep sitting up at this, hour.” + </p> + <p> + “As if anything about me mattered just now,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's up?” + </p> + <p> + “The old thing, Terry; you must know what's up.” + </p> + <p> + “What old thing? I am sure I can't guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if you can't you ought. Father is in a peck of trouble—a + peck of trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Nora's voice broke and trembled. Terence, who disliked a scene beyond + anything, fidgeted restlessly. He leaned out of the window, and dropped + his cigar ash on the ground beneath. + </p> + <p> + “And you are his only son and the heir to Castle O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “The heir to a pack of ruins,” said the boy impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Terry, you don't deserve to be father's son. How dare you speak like that + of the—the beloved old place?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Nora, if you are going into heroics I think I'll be off to + bed,” said Terence, yawning. + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't; you must listen. I have got something most important to + say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will give you five minutes; not another moment. I know you, + Nora; you always exaggerate things. You are an Irishwoman to your + backbone.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, and I glory in the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed to glory in it. Don't you want to have anything + to do with mother and her relations?” + </p> + <p> + “I love my mother, but I am glad I don't take after her,” said Nora; “yes, + I am glad.” + </p> + <p> + The moon shone on the two young faces, and Nora looked up at her brother; + he put on a supercilious smile, and folded his arms across his broad + chest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied; “and I should like to shake you for looking like that. + I am glad I am Irish through and through and <i>through</i>. Would I give + my warm heart and my enthusiasm for your coldness and deliberation?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Nora, what a little ignorant thing you are! Do you suppose + no Englishman has enthusiasm?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll drop the subject,” said Nora. “It is one I won't talk of; it puts + me into such a boiling rage to see you sitting like that.” + </p> + <p> + Terence did not speak at all for a moment; then he said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “What is this thing that you have got to tell me? The five minutes are + nearly up, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother your five minutes! I cannot tell you in five minutes. When my + heart is scalded with unshed tears, how can I measure time by <i>minutes</i>? + It has to do with father; it is worse than anything that has ever gone + before.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Norrie?” Her brother's tone had suddenly become gentle. He + laid his hand for a moment on her arm; the gentleness of the tone, the + unexpected sweetness of the touch overcame Nora; she flung her arms + passionately round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and you are the only brother I have got!” she sobbed; “and I could + love you—I could love you like anything. Can't you be sympathetic? + Can't you be sweet? Can't you be dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, come!” said Terence, struggling to release himself from Nora's + entwining arms; “I am not made like you, you know; but I am not a bad chap + at heart. Now, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try and tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “And for goodness' sake don't look so sorrowfully at me, Nora; we can + talk, and we can act and do good deeds, without giving ourselves away. I + hate girls who wear their hearts on their sleeves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you will <i>never</i> understand,” said Nora, starting back again; + all her burst of feeling turned in upon herself. “I can't imagine how you + are father's son,” she began. But then she stopped, waited for a moment, + and then said quietly, “There is a fresh mortgage, and it is for a very + big sum.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that all?” said Terence. “I have heard of mortgages all my life; + it seems to be the fashion at O'Shanaghgan to mortgage to any extent. + There is nothing in that; father will give up a little more of the land.” + </p> + <p> + “How much land do you think is left?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I can't say; not much, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my impression,” said Nora—“I am not sure; but it is my + impression—that there is <i>nothing</i> left to meet this big thing + but the—the—the land on which”—her voice broke—“Terry, + the land on which the house stands.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Nora, you are so melodramatic. I don't know how you can know + anything of this.” + </p> + <p> + “I only guess. Mother is very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother? Is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I have touched you there! But anyhow, father is in worse trouble than + he has been yet; I never, <i>never</i> saw him look as he did tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “As if looks mattered.” + </p> + <p> + “The look I saw tonight does matter,” said Nora. “We were coming home from + Cronane, and I was driving.” + </p> + <p> + “It is madness to let you drive Black Bess,” interrupted Terence. “I + wonder my father risks spoiling one of his most valuable horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense, Terry; I can drive as well as you, and better, thanks,” + replied Nora, much nettled, for her excellent driving was one of the few + things she was proud of. “Well, I turned round, and I saw father's face, + and, oh! it was just as if someone had stabbed me through the heart. You + know, or perhaps you don't, that the last big loan came from Squire + Murphy.” + </p> + <p> + “Old Dan Murphy; then we are as safe as we can be,” said Terence, rising + and whistling. “You really did make me feel uncomfortable, you have such a + queer way; but if it is Dan Murphy, he will give father any amount of + time. Why, they are the best of friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father went to see him on the subject—I happen to know that—and + I don't think he has given him time. There is something wrong, anyhow—I + don't know what; but there <i>is</i> something very wrong, and I mean to + find out tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora, if I were you I wouldn't interfere. You are only a young girl, and + these kind of things are quite out of your province. Father has pulled + along ever since you and I were born. Most Irish gentlemen are poor in + these days. How can they help it? The whole country is going to ruin; + there is no proper trade; there is no proper system anywhere. The tenants + are allowed to pay their rent just as they please——” + </p> + <p> + “As if we could harry them,” said inconsistent Nora. “The poor dears, with + their tiny cots and their hard, hard times. I'd rather eat dry bread all + my days than press one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “If these are your silly views, you must expect our father to be badly + off, and the property to go to the dogs, and everything to come to an + end,” said the brother in a discontented tone. “But there, I say once more + that you have exaggerated in this matter; there is nothing more wrong than + there has been since I can remember. I am glad I am going to England; I am + glad I am going to be out of it all for a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “You going to England—you, Terry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Don't you know? Our Uncle George Hartrick has asked me to stay with + him, and I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “And you can go? You can leave us just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course; there will be fewer mouths to feed. It's a good thing + every way.” + </p> + <p> + “But Uncle George is a rich man?” + </p> + <p> + “What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean he lives in a big place, and has heaps and heaps of money,” said + Nora. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot go to him <i>shabby</i>. What are you going to do for dress?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother will manage that.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” Nora leaped up from the window-ledge and stood facing her + brother. “You have spoken to mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I have. Dear me, Nora, you are getting to be quite an + unpleasant sort of girl.” + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken to mother,” repeated Nora, “and she has promised to help + you? How will she do it?” + </p> + <p> + Terence moved restlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she knows herself how she will do it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will let her?” said Nora—“you, a man, will let her? You + know she has no money; you know she has nothing but her little trinkets, + and you allow her to sell those to give you pleasure? Oh, I am ashamed of + you! I am sorry you are my brother. How can you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Nora, I won't be scolded by you. After all, I am your elder, + and you are bound, at any rate, to show me decent outward respect. If you + only mean to talk humbug of this sort I am off to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Terence rose from his place on the window-ledge, and, without glancing at + Nora, left the room. When he did so she clasped her hands high above her + head, and sat for a moment looking out into the night. Her face was + quivering, but no tears rose to her wide-open eyes. After a moment she + turned, and began very slowly to undress. + </p> + <p> + “I will see the Banshee tomorrow, if it is possible,” she whispered under + her breath. “If ruin can be averted, it shall be. I don't mind leaving the + place; I don't mind starving. I don't mind <i>anything</i> but that look + on father's face. But father's heart shall not be broken; not while Nora + O'Shanaghgan is in the world.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — THE CAVE OF THE BANSHEE. + </h2> + <p> + At ten o'clock on the following evening two eager excited girls might have + been seen stealing down a narrow path which led to Murphy's Cove. Murphy's + Cove was a charming little semicircular bay which ran rather deeply into + the land. The sand here was of that silvery sheen which, at low tide, + shone like burnished silver. The cove was noted for its wonderful shells, + producing many cowries and long shells called pointers. + </p> + <p> + In the days of her early youth Nora had explored the treasures of this + cove, and had secured a valuable collection of shells, as well as very + rare seaweeds, which she had carefully dried. Her mother had shown her how + to make seaweeds and shells into baskets, and many of these amateur + productions adorned the walls of Nora's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + All the charm of these things had passed away, however; the time had come + when she no longer cared to gather shells or collect seaweeds. She felt + that she was turning very fast into a woman. She had all an Irish girl's + high spirits; but she had, added to these, a peculiarly warm and sensitive + heart. When those she loved were happy, no one in all the world was + happier than Nora O'Shanaghgan; but when any gloom fell on the + home-circle, then Nora suffered far more than anyone gave her credit for. + </p> + <p> + She had passed an anxious day at home, watching her father intently, + afraid to question him, and only darting glances at him when she thought + he was not looking. The Squire, however, seemed cheerful enough, plodding + over his land, or arranging about the horses, or doing the + thousand-and-one small things which occupied his life. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan seemed to have forgotten all about the mortgage, and was + eagerly discussing ways and means with Terence. Terence avoided Nora's + eyes, and rode off early in the evening to see the nearest tailor. It was + not likely that this individual could make a fitting suit for the young + heir to O'Shanaghgan; but the boy must have something to travel in, and + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan gave implicit directions as to the London tailor whom he + was to visit as soon as he reached the Metropolis. + </p> + <p> + “For you are to look your best, and never to forget that you are my son,” + was her rejoinder; and Terence forgot all about Nora's words on the + previous evening. He was to start in two days' time. Even Nora became + excited over his trip and in her mother's account of her Uncle Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you were going, Nora,” said the mother. “I should be proud of you. + Of course you are a little rough colt; but you could be trained;” and then + she looked with sudden admiration at her handsome daughter. + </p> + <p> + “She has a face in a thousand,” she thought, “and she is absolutely + unconscious of her beauty.” + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock Nora had started off in the pony-trap to visit her friend + Biddy. The trap had been brought back by one of the numerous gossoons who + abounded all over O'Shanaghgan, and Biddy and Nora had a few hours before + the great secret expedition was to take place. And now the time had come. + The girls had put on thick serge petticoats, short jackets, and little + tight-fitting caps on their heads. There was always a breeze blowing round + that extreme corner of the Atlantic. Never did the finest summer day find + the waves calm there. Nora and Biddy had been accustomed to these waves + since their earliest girlhood, and were not the least afraid. They stood + now waiting in the little cove, and looking round wonderingly for the + appearance of Mike and Neil upon the scene. They were to bring the boat + with them. The girls were to wade through the surf to get into it, and + Biddy was stooping down to take off her shoes and stockings for the + purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear!” she cried. “Do you see that ugly bank of clouds just behind + the moon? I hope my lady moon is not going to hide herself; we can do + nothing in the cave if we have not light.” + </p> + <p> + “But the cave is dark, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But don't you know there is a break in the cliffs above, just in the + center? And it is down there the moon sends its shafts when it is at the + full; it is there the Banshee will meet us, if we are to see her at all. + The shafts from the moon will only enter the cave at midnight. I have + counted the times, and I know everything.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to see the Banshee so badly,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “You won't be frightened, then, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Frightened? No. Not of our own Banshee.” + </p> + <p> + “They say,” began Biddy, “that if you see a spirit, and come face to face + with it, you are good for—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “If you hold out during the year you have seen the spirit, you are good to + live for another ten; but during that first year you are in extreme danger + of dying. If you escape that fate, however, and are whole and sound, you + will be quite safe to live for ten more years. They say nothing can send + you out of the world; not sickness, nor accidents, nor fire, nor water; + but the second year you are liable to an accident, and the year after to a + misfortune; then in the fourth year your luck turns—in the fourth + year you find gold, in the fifth year health, in the sixth year beauty. + Oh, I would give anything to be beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “You are very well as you are, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well as I am? What nonsense! Look at my turned-up nose.” Here Biddy + pressed her finger on the feature in question. + </p> + <p> + “It looks very racy,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, then, it does that,” replied Biddy. “I believe I got it sound and + safe from one of the old——” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't go on,” cried Nora. “I know what you are going to say.” + </p> + <p> + “And why shouldn't I say it? You would be proud enough to be descended + from——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have a very fine descent of my own,” answered Nora, with spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if I was like you,” began Biddy, “wouldn't I be proud, just? But + dear, dear! there never were two Irish girls farther asunder as far as + appearance goes. See here, let me describe myself, feature by feature. Oh, + here's a clear pool. I can get a glimpse of myself in it. You come and + look in too, Nora. Now, then, we can see ourselves. Oh, holy poker! it's + cruel the difference between us. Here's my forehead low and bumpy, and my + little nose, scarcely any of it, and what there is turned right up to the + sky; and my wide mouth, and my little eyes, and my hair just standing + straight up as rakish as you please. And look at you, with your elegant + features and your—oh, but it's genteel you are!—and I love + you, Nora alannah; I love you, and am not a bit jealous of you.” + </p> + <p> + Here the impulsive girl threw her arms round her friend's neck and kissed + her. + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” she added, “I wish those clouds were not coming up. It has + been so precious hot all day that I should not be the least surprised if + we had a thunderstorm.” + </p> + <p> + “A thunderstorm while we are in the cave would be magnificent,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Does anything ever frighten you, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think anything in nature could frighten me; but there are some + things I am frightened at.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Do tell me. I should like to know.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll keep it a secret—won't you, Biddy?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I will. When did I ever blaze out anything you told me? If I + am plain, I am faithful.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am afraid of <i>pain</i>,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Pain! You? But I have seen you scratch yourself ever so deep and not so + much as wink; and I mind that time when you twisted your ankle and you + didn't even pretend you were hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is not that sort of pain. I am terrified of pain when it affects + those I love. But there! don't ask me any more. Here are the boys; we'll + jump into the boat and be off. Why, it is half-past ten, and it will take + half-an-hour's good rowing to cross the bay, and then we have to enter the + cave and——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like those clouds,” said Biddy. “I wonder if it is safe to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Safe?” said Nora. “We must go. Mother won't allow me to spend another + night here, and I shall lose my chance. I am determined to speak to the + Banshee or die in the attempt.” + </p> + <p> + The splash of oars was now distinctly audible, and the next moment a + four-oared gig swiftly turned the little promontory and shot with a rapid + movement into the bay. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Biddy, running forward, “who's in the boat?” + </p> + <p> + A lad and a man now stood upright and motioned to the girls. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Neil?” said Biddy. + </p> + <p> + “Neil could not come, Miss Biddy, so I'm taking his place,” said the deep + voice of a powerful-looking man. He had a black beard down to his waist, + flashing black eyes, a turned-up nose, and a low forehead. A more bull-dog + and ferocious-looking individual it would be hard to find. Biddy, however, + knew him; he was Neil's father—Andy Neil, as he was called. He was + known to be a lawless and ferocious man, and was very much dreaded by most + of the neighbors around. Neither Nora nor Biddy, however, felt any reason + to fear him and Nora said almost cheerfully: + </p> + <p> + “As we are to have such a stiff row, it is just as well to have a man in + the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Faix, now, young ladies, come along, and don't keep me waiting,” said + Andy, rising and brandishing one of his oars in a threatening way. + “There's a storm coming on, and I want to be out of this afore it + overtakes us. Oh, glory be to goodness, there's a flash of lightning!” + </p> + <p> + There came a flash on the edge of the horizon, lighting up the thick bank + of rapidly approaching clouds. + </p> + <p> + “Nora, had we better go tonight?” said Biddy. She had as little fear as + her friend, but even she did not contemplate with pleasure a wild storm in + the midst of the Atlantic. + </p> + <p> + The man Neil looked gravely round. + </p> + <p> + “Och! good luck to ye now, young ladies; don't be kaping me waiting after + the botheration of coming to fetch yez. Come along, and be quick about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said Nora. She splashed bravely into the surf, for the boat + could not quite reach the shore. The waves reached high above her pretty, + rosy ankles as she stepped into the boat. + </p> + <p> + Biddy followed in her wake; and then Nora, producing a rough towel, began + to dry her feet. Both girls put on their shoes and stockings again in + absolute silence. + </p> + <p> + Neil had now faced the boat seaward, and with great sweeps with a pair of + sculls was taking it out to sea. The tide was in their favor, and they + went at a rapid rate. The man did not speak at all, and his face was in + complete shadow. Nora breathed hard in suppressed excitement and delight. + Biddy crouched at the bottom of the boat and watched the clouds as they + came up. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I hadn't come,” she muttered once or twice. + </p> + <p> + The boy Mike sat at the stern. The two girls had nothing whatever to do. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I take an oar, Andy?” said Nora at last. + </p> + <p> + “You, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “I can take a pair of oars and help you,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “If it plazes you, miss.” The man hastily stepped to the back of the boat. + Nora took her place, and soon they were going at greater speed than ever. + She was a splendid oarswoman, and feathered her oars in the most approved + fashion. + </p> + <p> + In less than the prescribed half-hour they reached the entrance to the + great cave. + </p> + <p> + They were safe. A hollow, booming noise greeted them as they came close. + Andy bent forward and gave Nora a brief direction. + </p> + <p> + “Ship your oars now, miss. Aisy now; aisy now. Now, then, I'll take one + pull; pull your left oar again. Now, here we are.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with animation. Nora obeyed him implicitly. They entered the + shadow of the cave, and the next instant found themselves in complete + darkness. The boat bobbed up and down on the restless water, and just at + that instant a flash of vivid lightning illuminated all the outside water, + followed by a crashing roar of thunder. + </p> + <p> + “The storm is on us; but, thank the Almighty, we're safe,” said Mike, with + a little sob. “I wish to goodness we hadn't come, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “And so do I,” said Biddy; “it is perfectly awful being in a cave like + this. What shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do!” said Neil. “Hould your tongues and stay aisy. Faix, it's the + Almighty is having a bit of a talk; you stay quiet and listen.” + </p> + <p> + The four oars were shipped now, and the boat swayed restlessly up and + down. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't we going any farther?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Not while this storm lasts. Oh, for goodness' sake, Nora, do stay quiet,” + said Biddy. + </p> + <p> + Andy now produced out of his pocket a box of matches and a candle. He + struck a match, applied it to the candle, and the next moment a feeble + flame shot up. It was comparatively calm within the cave. + </p> + <p> + “There! that will light us a bit,” said Andy. “The storm won't last long. + It's well we got into shelter. Now, then, we'll do fine.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think,” said Biddy, in a terrified tone, “that the cave will be + be crashed in?” + </p> + <p> + “Glory be to Heaven, no, miss—we have cheated the storm coming + here.” The man smiled as he spoke, showing bits of broken teeth. His words + were gentle enough, but his whole appearance was more like that of a wild + beast than a man. Nora looked full at him. The candle lit up her pale + face; her dark-blue eyes were full of courage; a lock of her black hair + had got loose in the exertion of rowing, and had fallen partly over her + shoulder and neck. “Faix, then, you might be the Banshee herself,” said + Andy, bending forward and looking at her attentively. + </p> + <p> + “If the moon comes out again we may see the Banshee,” whispered Nora. “Can + we not go farther into the cave? Time is flying.” She took her watch from + her pocket and looked at the hour. It was already past eleven o'clock. + </p> + <p> + “The storm will be over in good time,” said the man. “Do you want to get + the gleam of moonlight in the crack of the inner cave? Is that what you're + afther, missy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you stay quiet; you'll reach it right enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora wants to see the Banshee, Andy,” called out Biddy. “Oh, what a + flash! It nearly blinded me.” + </p> + <p> + “The rain will soon be on us, and then the worst of the storm will be + past,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + Mike uttered a scream; the lightning was now forked and intensely blue. It + flashed into every cranny in the cave, showing the barnacles on the roof, + the little bits of fern, the strange stalactites. After the flash had + passed, the darkness which followed was so intense that the light of the + dim candle could scarcely be seen. Presently the rain thundered down upon + the bare rock above with a tremendous sound; there were great hailstones; + the thunder became less frequent, the lightning less vivid. In a little + more than half an hour the fierce storm had swept on to other quarters. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, we can go forward,” said Andy. He took up his oars. “You had + best stay quiet, missies; just sit there in the bottom of the boat, and + let me push ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will hold the candle,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, miss.” + </p> + <p> + She took it into her cold fingers. Her heart was beating high with + suppressed excitement; she had never felt a keener pleasure in her life. + If only she might see the Banshee, and implore the spirit's intercession + for the fortunes of her house! + </p> + <p> + The man rowed on carefully, winding round corners and avoiding many + dangers. At last they came bump upon some rocks. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” he said, “we can't go a step farther.” + </p> + <p> + “But we must,” said Nora. “We have not reached the chasm in the rock. We + must.” + </p> + <p> + “We dare not, miss; the boat hasn't water enough to float her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I shall wade there. How far on is the chasm?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nora! Nora! you won't be so mad as to go alone?” called out Biddy. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't be a scrap afraid,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “But there's water up to your knees; you dare not do it,” said Biddy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I dare; and the tide is going down—is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be down a good bit in half an hour,” said the man, “and we'll be + stranded here as like as not. These are bad rocks when the tide is low; we + must turn and get out of this, miss, in a quarter of an hour at the + farthest.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I could just do it in a quarter of an hour,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + She jumped up, and the next moment had sprung out of the boat into the + water, which nearly reached up to her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nora! Nora! you'll be lost; you'll slip and fall in that awful + darkness, and we'll never see you again,” said Biddy, with a cry of + terror. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; let her go,” said Andy. “There ain't no fear, miss; you have but + to go straight on, holding your candle and avoiding the rocks to your + left, and you'll come to the opening. Be as quick as you can, Miss Nora; + be as quick as you can.” + </p> + <p> + His voice had a queer note in it. Nora gave him a look of gratitude, and + proceeded on her dangerous journey. Her one fear was that the candle might + go out; the flame flickered as the air got less good; the hot grease + scalded her fingers; but suddenly a breeze of fresher air reached her, and + warned her that she was approaching the aperture. There came a little puff + of wind, and the next moment the brave girl found herself in total + darkness. The candle had gone out. Just at that instant she heard, or + fancied she heard, a splash behind her in the water. There was nothing for + it now but to go forward. She resolved not to be terrified. Perhaps it was + a water-rat; perhaps it was the Banshee. Her heart beat high; still she + had no fear. She was going to plead for her father. What girl would be + terrified with such a cause in view? She walked slowly and carefully on, + and at last the fresher air was followed by a welcome gleam of light; she + was approaching the opening. The next moment she had found it. She stood + nearly up to her knees in the water; the shaft of moonlight was piercing + down into the cave. Nora went and stood in the moonlight. The hole at the + top was little more than a foot in width; there was a chasm, a jagged + chasm, through which the light came. She could see a bit of cloudless sky, + and the cold moonlight fell all over her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Banshee!—Lady Spirit who belongs to our house, come and speak + to me,” cried the girl. “Come from your home in the rock and give me a + word of comfort. A dark time is near, and we implore your help. Come, + come, Banshee—it is the O'Shanaghgans who want you. It is Nora + O'Shanaghgan who calls you now.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of a laugh came from the darkness behind her, and the next + instant the startled girl saw the big form of Andy Neil approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be frightened, Miss Nora,” he said. “I aint the Banshee, but I + am as good. Faix, now, I want to say something to you. I have come here + for the purpose. There! don't be frightened. I won't hurt ye—not I; + but I want yez to promise me something.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “I have come here for the purpose. <i>She</i> aint no good.” He indicated + with a motion of his thumb the distant form of Biddy within the dark + recess of the cave. + </p> + <p> + “Does Miss Murphy know you have followed me?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “No, she don't know it; she's in the dark. There's the little lad Mike + will look after her. She won't do nothing until we go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I did want to see the Banshee!” + </p> + <p> + “The Banshee may come or not,” said the man; “but I have my message to + yez, and it is this: If you don't get Squire O'Shanaghgan to let me keep + my little bit of land, and to see that I aint evicted, why, I'll—you're + a bonny lass, you're as purty a young lady as I ever set eyes on, but I'll + drownd yez, deep down here in this hole. No one will ever know; they'll + think you has fallen and got drowned without no help from me. Yes, I'll do + it—yes, I will—unless you promises that Squire O'Shanaghgan + shan't evict me. If I go out, why, you goes out first. Now, you'll do it; + you'll swear that you'll do it? You'll leave no stone unturned. You'll get + 'em to leave me my cabin where I was born, and the childer was born, and + where the wife died, or I'll drownd yez deep down here in the Banshee's + hole. Look!” said the man as the moon nickered on a deep pool of water; + “they say there is no bottom to it. Just one shlip, and over you goes, and + nobody will ever see Nora O'Shanaghgan again.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to be frightened; you wouldn't do it, Andy,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't I just? You think that I'd be afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so. I am sure you are afraid of nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why shouldn't I do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you wouldn't be so bad, not to an innocent girl who never harmed + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! wouldn't I just? Ain't I a-stharving, and aint the childer stharving, + and why should they turn us out of our bit of a cabin? Swear you'll do it; + swear you won't have me evicted; you has got to promise.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> wouldn't evict you—never, never!” said Nora. “Oh, never!” + she added, tears, not of fright, but of pity, filling her eyes. “But how + can I control my father?” + </p> + <p> + “That's for you to see to, missy; I must go back now, or we'll none of us + leave this cave alive. But you'll just shlip into that water, and you'll + never be heard of again unless you promises. I'll go back; they none of + 'em will know I followed yez. You'll be drowned here in the deep pool, and + I'll go back to the boat, or you promises and we both goes back.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Andy, what am I to promise?” + </p> + <p> + “That you won't have me evicted. You say solemn here: 'Andrew Neil, I + would rather die myself or have my tongue cut out, and may the Holy Mother + cast me from her presence forever, and may the evil spirits take me, if I + don't save you, Andy.' You has to say that.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't,” said Nora with sudden spirit. “I am not afraid. I'll do my + very, very best for you; but I won't say words like those.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at her attentively. + </p> + <p> + “I was a little frightened at first,” continued Nora; “but I am not now. I + would rather you pushed me into that pool, I would rather sink and die, + than take an awful vow like that. I won't take it. I'll do my very best to + save you, but I won't make a vow.” + </p> + <p> + “Faix, then, miss, it's you that has the courage; but now if I let yez off + this time, will ye do yer best?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll do my best.” + </p> + <p> + “If yer don't, bonny as you are, and the light of somebody's eyes, you'll + go out of the world. But, come, I trust yez, and we must be turning back.” + </p> + <p> + The man took the matches from his pocket, struck one, and lit the candle. + Then, Andy going in front of Nora, they both turned in the direction where + the boat was waiting for them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — THE MURPHYS. + </h2> + <p> + It was between two and three in the morning when the girls found + themselves back again in the desolate mansion of Cronane. Biddy had left a + window open; they had easily got in by it and gone up to Biddy's big room + on the first floor. They were to sleep together in Biddy's small bed. + Personally, discomforts did not affect them; they had never been + accustomed to luxury, and rather liked the sense of hardship than + otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “I brought up a bit of supper beforehand,” said Biddy. “I am real hungry. + What do you say to cold bacon and taters—eh? I went down to the + larder and got a good few early this morning. I put them in the cupboard + in a brown bowl with a plate over it. You're hungry—aren't you, + Norrie?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not very,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “What's come to you, you're so quiet? You have lost all your spirit. I + thought we would have a real rollicking time over our supper, laughing and + talking, and telling our adventures. Oh! it was awful in that cave; and + when you were away talking to the lady Banshee I did have a time of it. I + thought that awful Andy was going to murder me. I had a sort of feeling + that he was getting closer and closer, and I clutched hold of little Mike. + I think he was a bit surprised; I'll give him a penny to-morrow, poor + gossoon. But aren't you hungry, and won't you laugh, and shan't we have a + jolly spree?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall be very glad to eat something,” said Nora; “and I am a little + cold, too. I took a chill standing so long in that icy water.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, oh, dear! it's the rheumatics you'll be getting, and then + you'll lose your beautiful straight figure. I must rub your legs. There, + sit on the bed and I'll begin.” + </p> + <p> + Nora submitted to Biddy's ministrations. The room was lit by a small dip + candle, which was placed in an old tin candlestick on the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear! the light will be coming in no time, and we can quench the + glim then,” said Biddy. “I've got to be careful about candles. We're + precious short of everything at Cronane just now. We're as poor as church + mice; it's horrid to be so desperately poor as that. But, hurrah for the + cold taters and bacon! We'll have a right good meal. That will warm you + up; and I have a little potheen in a black bottle, too. I'll put some + water to it and you shall have a drink.” + </p> + <p> + “I never touch it,” said Nora, shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “But you must tonight, or you'll catch your death of cold. There, the best + thing you can do is to get right into bed. Why, you're shivering, and your + teeth are chattering. It's a fine state Mrs. O'Shanaghgan will be in + tomorrow when you go back to her.” + </p> + <p> + “I must not get ill, Biddy; that would never do,” said Nora, pulling + herself together with an effort. “Yes, I'll get into bed; and I'll take a + little of your potheen—very, very weak, if you'll mix it for me—and + I'll have some of the bacon and potatoes. Oh! I would eat anything rather + than be ill. I never was really ill in my life; but now, of all times, it + would never do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, here you go. Tumble into bed. I'll pile the blankets on you. + Now, isn't that better?” + </p> + <p> + Biddy bustled, intent on hospitality. She propped Nora up with pillows, + pulled a great rug over her shoulders, and heaped on more and more + blankets, which she pulled expeditiously from under the bed. “They always + stay here in the summer,” said Biddy. “That's to keep them aired; and now + they're coming in very handy. You have got four doubled on you now; that + makes eight. I should think you'd soon be warm enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect I shall soon be too hot,” said Nora; “but this is very nice.” + </p> + <p> + She sipped the potheen, ate a little bacon and cold potatoes, and + presently declared herself well again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am perfectly all right!” she said; “it was coming home in the boat + in my wet things. I wish I had taken a pair of sculls again; then I + wouldn't even have been cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you'll tell me,” said Biddy, who sat on the edge of the bed munching + great chunks of bacon and eating her cold potatoes with extreme relish. + “Oh! it's hungry I am; but I want to hear all about the lady Banshee. Did + she come? Did you see her, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't come,” said Nora very shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't come? But they say she never fails when the moon is at the full. + She rises up out of that pool—the bottomless pool it is called—and + she floats over the water and waves her hand. It's awful to see her if you + don't belong to her; but to those who belong to her she is tender and + sweet, like a mother, they say; and her breath is like honey, and her kiss + the sweetest you ever got in all your life. You mean to say you didn't see + her? Why, Nora, what has come to you? You're trembling again.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you, Biddy; don't ask me any more. I didn't see the + Banshee. It was very, very cold standing up to my knees in the water. I + suppose I did wrong to go; but that's done and over now. Oh, I am so tired + and sleepy! Do get into bed, Biddy, and let us have what little rest we + can.” + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning Nora returned to O'Shanaghgan. All trace of ill + effects had vanished under Biddy's prompt treatment. She had lain under + her eight blankets until she found them intolerable, had then tossed most + of them off, and fallen into deep slumber. In the morning she looked much + as usual; but no entreaties on the part of Biddy, joined in very heartily + by Squire Murphy and also by Mrs. Murphy, could induce her to prolong her + visit. + </p> + <p> + “It's a message I'll take over myself to your father if you'll but stay, + Nora,” said the Squire. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I must really go home,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “It's too fine you are for us, Nora, and that's the truth; and don't go + for to be denying it,” said Mrs. Murphy. + </p> + <p> + “No; I hope I may never be too fine for my real friends,” said Nora a + little sadly. “I must go back. I believe I am wanted at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a very conceited colleen; there's no girl that can't be spared + from home sometimes,” said Mrs. Murphy. “I thought you would help Biddy + and me to pick black currants. There are quarts and quarts of 'em in the + garden, and the maids can't do it by themselves, poor things. Well, Biddy, + you have got to help me today.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mammy, I just can't,” answered Biddy. “I'm due down at the shore, and + I want to go a bit of the way back with Nora. You can't expect me to help + you today, mammy.” + </p> + <p> + “There she is, Nora—there she is!” exclaimed the good lady, her face + growing red and her eyes flashing fire; “not a bit of good, not worth her + keep, I tell her. Why shouldn't she stay at home and help her mother? Do + you hear me, Squire Murphy? Give your orders to the girl; tell her to stay + at home and help her mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don't be bothering me,” said Squire Murphy. “It's out I'm going now. + I have enough on my own shoulders without attending to the tittle-tattle + of women.” + </p> + <p> + He rose from the table, and the next moment had left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear! there are bad times ahead for poor Old Ireland,” said Mrs. + Murphy. “Children don't obey their parents; husbands don't respect their + wives; it's a queer state of the country. When I was young, and lived at + my own home in Tipperary, we had full and plenty. There was a bite and a + sup for every stranger who came to the door, and no one talked of money, + nor thought of it neither. The land yielded a good crop, and the potatoes—oh, + dear! oh, dear! that was before the famine. The famine brought us a lot of + bad luck, that it did.” + </p> + <p> + “But the potatoes have been much better the last few years, and this year + they say we're going to have a splendid crop,” said Nora. “But I must go + now, Mrs. Murphy. Thank you so much for asking me.” + </p> + <p> + “You're looking a bit pale; but you're a beautiful girl,” said the good + woman admiringly. “I'd give a lot if Biddy could change places with you—that + is, in appearance, I mean. She's not a credit to anybody, with her bumpy + forehead and her cocked nose, and her rude ways to her mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Mammy, I really cannot help the way I am made,” said Biddy; “and as to + staying in this lovely day picking black currants and making jam, and + staining my fingers, it's not to be thought of. Come along out, Nora. If + you must be off back to O'Shanaghgan, I mean to claim the last few moments + of your stay here.” + </p> + <p> + The girls spent the morning together, and early in the afternoon Nora + returned to O'Shanaghgan. Terence met her as she was driving down the + avenue. + </p> + <p> + “How late you are!” he said; “and you have got great black shadows under + your eyes. You know, of course, that I have to catch the early train in + the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do, Terry; and it is for that very reason I have come back + so punctually. I want to pack your things my own self.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's a good girl. You'll find most of them laid out on the bed. Be + sure you see that all my handkerchiefs are there—two dozen—and + all marked with my initials.” + </p> + <p> + “I never knew you had so many.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; mother gave me a dozen at Christmas, and I have not used them yet. I + shall want every bit of decent clothing I possess for my visit to my rich + Uncle Hartrick.” + </p> + <p> + “How is mother, Terence?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother? Quite well, I suppose; she is fretting a bit at my going; you'll + have to comfort her. The place is very rough for her just now.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see that it is any rougher than it has ever been,” said Nora a + little fiercely. “You're always running down the place, Terry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't help it. I hate to see things going to the dogs,” said the + young man. He turned on his heel, called a small fox-terrier, who went by + the name of Snap, to follow him, and went away in the direction of the + shore. + </p> + <p> + Nora whipped up her pony and drove on to the house. Here she was greeted + by her father. He was standing on the steps; and, coming down, he lifted + her bodily out of the dog-cart, strained her to his heart, and looked full + into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Light o' the Morning, I have missed you,” he said, and gave a great + sigh. + </p> + <p> + The girl nestled up close to him. She was trembling with excess of + feeling. + </p> + <p> + “And I have missed you,” she answered. “How is the mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she is all right, Nora; but there, upon my word, she does vex + me sometimes. Take the horse to the stables, and don't stand staring + there, Peter Jones.” The Squire said these latter words on account of the + fixed stare of a pair of bright black eyes like sloes in the head of the + little chap who had brought the trap for Nora. He whipped up the pony, + turned briskly round, and drove away. + </p> + <p> + “Come out for a bit with me round the grounds, Nora. It's vexed I am, + sometimes; I feel I cannot stand things. I wish my lady would not have all + those fine airs. But there, I have no right to talk against your mother to + you, child; and of course she is your mother, and I am desperately proud + of her. There never was her like for beauty and stateliness; but sometimes + she tries me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know, father; I know. But let's go round and look at the new calf + and the colt. We can spare an hour—can we not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; come along quick, Nora,” answered the Squire, all smiles and jokes + once more. “The mother doesn't know you have come back, and we can have a + pleasant hour to ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — THE SQUIRE'S TROUBLE. + </h2> + <p> + Nora and her father went slowly down a shady walk, which led in the + direction of the shore. Soon they found themselves in a hay-field. The + crop here was not particularly good. The hay had been spoiled by rains, + which had soaked down on the lands a fortnight ago. It was stunted in + height, and in some parts had that impoverished appearance which is so + painful to the heart of the good farmer. + </p> + <p> + Squire O'Shanaghgan, notwithstanding his somewhat careless ways, was + really a capital farmer. He had the best interests of the land at heart, + and did his utmost to get profit out of his many acres. He now shook his + head over the hay-crop. + </p> + <p> + “It's just like all the rest, Norrie—everything going to ruin—the + whole place going to the dogs; and yet—and yet, colleen, it's about + the sweetest bit of earth in all God's world. I wouldn't give O'Shanaghgan + for the grandest place in the whole of England; and I told your + lady-mother so this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you say it, father? Had mother been—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, child—nothing; the old grumbles. But it's her way, + poor dear; she can't help herself; she was born so. It's not to be + expected that she who was brought up in that prim land over yonder, where + everything is cut and dry, and no one ever thinks of managing anything but + by the rule of three, would take to our wild ways. But there, Norrie, it's + the freedom of the life that suits me; when I am up and away on Black Bess + or on Monarch, I don't think there is a happier fellow in the world. But + there, when I come face to face with money, why, I'm bothered—I'm + bothered entirely, child.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Nora, “won't you tell me what is worrying you?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know I am worried about anything, colleen?” + </p> + <p> + “How do I know, father?” answered Nora a little playfully. She turned and + faced him. “I know,” she said; “that is enough; you are worried. What is + it?” + </p> + <p> + The Squire looked at her attentively. He was much the taller of the two, + and his furrowed face seemed to the girl, as she looked up at him, like a + great rock rising above her. She was wont to sun herself in his smile, and + to look to him always as a sure refuge in any perplexity. She did not love + anyone in the whole world as she loved her father. His manliness appealed + to her; his generous ways suited her; but, above all these things, he was + her father; he was Irish to his backbone, and so was she. + </p> + <p> + “You must tell me,” she said. “Something is troubling you, and Nora has to + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my Light o' the Morning! what would I do without you?” answered the + Squire. + </p> + <p> + “Prove that you trust me,” said Nora, “and tell me what worries you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nora, you cannot understand; and yet if you could it would be a + relief to unburden my mind. But you know nothing about mortgages—do + you, little woman?” + </p> + <p> + “More than you think,” said Nora. “I am not a child—I am nearly + seventeen; and I have not lived at O'Shanaghgan all my life for nothing. + Of course we are poor! I don't know that I want to be rich.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what I want,” said the Squire; “I want to forget that there + is such a thing as money. If it were not for money I would say to myself, + 'There's not a better lot than mine.' What air we have here!” He opened + his mouth and took in a great breath of the pure Atlantic breezes. “What a + place it is! Look at the beauty of it! Look round, Norrie, and see for + yourself; the mountains over there; and the water rolling up almost to our + doors; and the grand roar of the waves in our ears; and those trees + yonder; and this field with the sun on it; and the house, though it is a + bit of a barrack, yet it is where my forebears were born. Oh, it's the + best place on earth; it's O'Shanaghgan, and it's mine! There, Nora, there; + I can't stand it!” + </p> + <p> + The Squire dashed his hand to his brow. Nora looked up at him; she was + feeling the exposure and excitement of last night. Her pallor suddenly + attracted his attention. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter with you, colleen?” he said. “Are you well—are + you sure you're well?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely, perfectly well, father. Go on—tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know, child, when I came in for the estate it was not to say + free.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean, father?” + </p> + <p> + “It was my father before me—your grandfather—the best hunter + in the county. He could take his bottle of port and never turn a hair; and + he rode to hounds! God bless you, Nora! I wish you could have seen your + grandfather riding to hounds. It was a sight to remember. Well, he died—God + bless him!—and there were difficulties. Before he died those + difficulties began, and he mortgaged some of the outer fields and Knock + Robin Farm—the best farm on the whole estate; but I didn't think + anything of that. I thought I could redeem it; but somehow, child, somehow + rents have been going down; the poor folk can't pay, and I'm the last to + press them; and things have got worse and worse. I had a tight time of it + five years ago; I was all but done for. It was partly the fact of the + famine; we none of us ever got over that—none of us in this part of + Ireland, and many of the people went away. Half the cabins were deserted. + There's half a mile of 'em down yonder; every single one had a dead man or + woman in it at the time of the famine, and now they're empty. Well of + course, you know all about that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, father; Hannah has told me of the famine many, many times.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure—to be sure; but it is a dark subject, and not fit for a + pretty young thing like you. But there, let me go on. It was five years + ago I mortgaged some of the place, a good bit, to my old friend Dan + Murphy. He lent me ten thousand pounds—not a penny more, I assure + you. It just tided me over, and I thought, of course, I'd pay him back, + interest and all, by easy stages. It seemed so easy to mortgage the place + to Murphy, and there was nothing else to be done.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire had been walking slowly; now he stopped, dropped Nora's hand + from his arm, and faced her. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed so easy to mortgage the land to Dan Murphy,” he said, dropping + his voice, “so very easy, and that money was so handy, and I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father?” said Nora in a voice of fear. “You said these words before. + Go on—it was so easy. Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a month ago, child, I got a letter from Murphy's lawyer in Dublin, + to say that the money must be paid up, or they would foreclose.” + </p> + <p> + “Foreclose, father. What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Take possession, child—take possession.” + </p> + <p> + “A month ago you got that letter? They would take possession—possession + of the land you have mortgaged. Does that mean that it would belong to + Squire Murphy, father?” + </p> + <p> + “So I thought, my dear colleen, and I didn't fret much. The fact is, I put + the letter in the fire and forgot it. It was only three days ago that I + got another letter to know what I meant to do. I was given three months to + pay in, and if I didn't pay up the whole ten thousand, with the five + years' interest, they'd foreclose. I hadn't paid that, Nora; I hadn't paid + a penny of it; and what with interest and compound interest, it mounted to + a good round sum. Dan charged me six per cent, on the money; but there, + you don't understand figures, child, and your pretty head shan't be + worried. Anyhow, I was to pay it all up within the three months—I, + who haven't even fifty pounds in the bank. It was a bit of a staggerer.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Nora; “and that was why you went the day before + yesterday to see Squire Murphy. Of course, he'll give you time; though, + now I come to think of it, he is very poor himself.” + </p> + <p> + “He is that,” said the Squire. “I don't blame him—not a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will you do, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I must think. It is a bit of a blow, my child, and I don't quite see my + way. But I am sure to, before the time comes; and I have got three + months.” + </p> + <p> + “But won't he let you off, father? Must you really pay it in three + months?” + </p> + <p> + “God help me, Norrie! I can't, not just now; but I will before the time + comes.” + </p> + <p> + “But what did he say, father? I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “It's this, Nora. Ah, you have a wise little head on your shoulders, even + though you are an Irish colleen. He said that he had sold my mortgage to + another man, and had got money on it; and the other man—he is an + Englishman, curse him!—and he wants the place, Nora, and he'll take + it in lieu of the mortgage if I don't pay up in three months.” + </p> + <p> + “The place,” said Nora; “O'Shanaghgan—he wants O'Shanaghgan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; that's it; he wants the land, and the old house.” + </p> + <p> + “But he can't,” said Nora. “You have not—oh! you have not mortgaged + the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, Nora! it is I that have done it; the house that you were born + in, and that my father, and father before him, and father before him + again, were born in, and that I was born in—it goes, and the land + goes, the lake yonder, all these fields, and the bit of the shore; all the + bonny place goes in three months if we cannot pay the mortgage. It goes + for an old song, and it breaks my heart, Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Nora very gravely. She did not cry out; the tears + pressed close to the back of her eyes, and scalded her with cruel pain; + but she would not allow one of them to flow. She held her head very erect, + and the color returned to her pale cheeks, and a new light shone in her + dark-blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “We'll manage somehow; we must,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of that,” said the Squire. “Of course we'll manage.” He + gave a great sigh, as if a load were lifted from his heart. “Of course + we'll manage,” he repeated; “and don't you tell your mother, for the life + of you, child.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will tell nothing until you give me leave. But how do you + mean to manage?” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of going up to Dublin next week to see one or two old + friends of mine; they are sure to help me at a pinch like this. They would + never see Patrick O'Shanaghgan deprived of his acres. They know me too + well; they know it would break my heart. I was thinking of going up next + week.” + </p> + <p> + “But why next week, father? You have only three months. Why do you put it + off to next week?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, you're right, colleen; but it's a job I don't fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have got to do it, and you ought to do it at once.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure—to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me with you, father; let us go tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have not got money for us both. I must go alone; and then your + mother must not be left. There's Terence gallivanting off to England to + visit his fine relations, and that will take a good bit. I had to give him + ten pounds this morning, and there are only forty now left in the bank. + Oh, plenty to tide us for a bit. We shan't want to eat much; and there's a + good supply of fruit and vegetables on the land; and the poor folk will + wait for their wages. Of course there will be more rents coming in, and + we'll scrape along somehow. Don't you fret, colleen. I declare it's light + as a feather my heart is since I told you the truth. You are a comfort to + me, Norrie.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Nora suddenly, “there's one thing I want to say.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that, pet?” + </p> + <p> + “You know Andy Neil?” + </p> + <p> + “What! Andrew Neil—that scoundrel?” The Squire's brow grew very + black. “Yes, yes. What about him? You have not seen him, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Over at Murphy's? He knew he dare not show his face here. Well, what + about him, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Nora, trembling very much; “he—he does not want you to + evict him.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll pay his rent, or he'll go,” thundered the Squire. “No more of this + at present. I can't be worried.” + </p> + <p> + “But, oh, father! he—he can't pay it any more than you can pay the + mortgage. Don't be cruel to him if you want to be dealt with mercifully + yourself; it would be such bad luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Nora, are you demented? The man pays his rent, or he goes. + Not another word.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, dear father!” + </p> + <p> + “Not another word. Go in and see your mother, or she'll be wondering what + has happened to you. Yes, I'll go off to Dublin to-morrow. If Neil doesn't + pay up his rent in a week, off he goes; it's men like Andrew Neil who are + the scum of the earth. He has put my back up; and pay his rent he will, or + out he goes.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — EDUCATION AND OTHER THINGS. + </h2> + <p> + The next day the Squire and Terence went off together. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan + was very angry with her husband for going, as she expressed it, to amuse + himself in Dublin. Dirty Dublin she was fond of calling the capital of + Ireland. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to go to Dirty Dublin for?” she said. “You'll spend a + lot of money, and God knows we have little enough at the present moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I won't, Ellen,” he replied. “I'll be as careful as careful can + be; the colleen can witness to that. There's a little inn on the banks of + the Liffey where I'll put up; it is called the 'Green Dragon,' and it's a + cozy, snug little place, where you can have your potheen and nobody be any + the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare, Patrick,” said his lady, facing him, “you are becoming + downright vulgar. I wish you wouldn't talk in that way. If you have no + respect for yourself and your ancient family, you ought to remember your + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I'm not doing the colleen any harm,” said the Squire. + </p> + <p> + “That you never could, father,” replied Nora, with a burst of enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan surveyed her coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Go upstairs and help Terence to pack his things,” she said; and Nora left + the room. + </p> + <p> + The next day the travelers departed. As soon as they were gone Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan sent for Nora to come and sit in the room with her. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking during the night how terribly neglected you are,” + she said; “you are not getting the education which a girl in your position + ought to receive. You learn nothing now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother, my education is supposed to be finished,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Finished indeed!” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “Since Miss Freeman left I have had no governess; but I read a good bit + alone. I am very fond of reading,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Distasteful as it all is to me,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, “I must take you + in hand myself. But I do wish your Uncle George would invite you over to + stay with them at The Laurels. It will do Terence a wonderful lot of good; + but you want it more, you are so unkempt and undignified. You would be a + fairly nice-looking girl if any justice was done to you; but really the + other day, when I saw you with that terrible young person Bridget Murphy, + it gave my heart quite a pang. You scarcely looked a lady, you were + laughing in such a vulgar way, and quite forgetting your deportment. Now, + what I have been thinking is that we might spend some hours together + daily, and I would mark out a course of instruction for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mammy,” answered Nora, “I should be very glad indeed to learn; you + know I always hated having my education stopped, but father said—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to hear what your father said,” interrupted Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but, mother dear, I really must think of father, and I must respect + what he says. He told me that my grandmother stopped her schooling at + fourteen, and he said she was the grandest lady, and the finest and + bonniest, in the country, and that no one could ever put her to shame; + for, although she had not much learning to boast of, she had a smart + answer for every single thing that was said to her. He said you never + could catch her tripping in her words, never—never; and he thinks, + mother,” continued Nora, sparkling and blushing, “that I am a little like + my grandmother. There is her miniature upstairs. I should like to be like + her. Father did love her so very, very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Nora, if those are your tastes, I have nothing further to + say,” answered Mrs. O'Shanaghgan; “but while you are under my roof and + under my tuition, I shall insist on your doing a couple of hours' good + reading daily.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, mother; I am quite agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you have quite forgotten your music?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I remember it, and I should like to play very much indeed; but the + old piano—you must know yourself, mother dear, that it is impossible + to get any music out of it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan uttered a groan. + </p> + <p> + “We seem to be beset with difficulties at every step,” she said. “It is + such a mistake your father going to Dublin now, and throwing away his + little capital. Has he said anything to you about the mortgage, by the + way, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + Nora colored. + </p> + <p> + “A little,” she answered in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I see—told it as a secret; so like the Irish, making mysteries + about everything, and then blabbing them out the next minute. I don't + want, my dear, to encroach upon your father's secrets, so don't be at all + afraid. Now, bring down your Markham's History of England and Alison's + History of Europe, and I will set you a task to prepare for me for + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Nora went slowly out of the room. She hated Markham's History of England. + She had read it five or six times, and knew it by heart. She detested + George and Richard and Mary, and their conversations with their mother + were simply loathsome to her. Alison's History, however, was tougher + metal, and she thought she would enjoy a good stiff reading of it. She was + a very intelligent girl, and with advantages would have done well. + </p> + <p> + She returned with the books. Her mother carelessly marked about twenty + pages in each, told her to read them in the course of the day, and to come + to her the next morning to be questioned. + </p> + <p> + “You can go now,” she said. “I was very busy yesterday, and have a + headache. I shall lie down and go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I draw down the blind, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, please; and you can put that rug over me. Now, don't run shouting + all over the house; try to remember you are a young lady. Really and + truly, no one would suppose that you and Terence were brother and sister. + He will do great credit to my brother George; he will be proud of such a + handsome young fellow as his nephew.” + </p> + <p> + Nora said nothing; having attended to her mother's comforts, she left the + room. She went out into the sunshine. In her hand she carried the two + books. Her first intention was to take them down to one end of the + dilapidated garden and read them steadily. She was rather pleased than + otherwise at her mother's sudden and unlooked-for solicitude with regard + to her education. She thought it would be pleasant to learn even under her + mother's rather peculiar method of tutelage; but, as she stood on the + terrace looking across the exquisite summer scene, two of the dogs, Creena + and Cushla, came into view. They rushed up to Nora with cries and barks of + welcome. Down went the books on the gravel, and off ran the Irish girl, + followed by the two barking dogs. A few moments later she was down on the + shore. She had run out without her hat or parasol. What did that matter? + The winds and sea-breezes had long ago taken their own sweet will on + Nora's Irish complexion; they could not tan skin like hers, and had given + up trying; they could only bring brighter roses into her cheeks and more + sweetness into her dark-blue eyes. She forgot her troubles, as most Irish + girls will when anything calls off their attention, and ran races with the + dogs up and down the shore. Nora was laughing, and the dogs were barking + and gamboling round her, when the stunted form of Hannah Croneen was seen + approaching. Hannah wore her bedgown and her short blue serge petticoat; + her legs and feet were bare; the breezes had caught up her short gray + locks, and were tossing them wildly about. She looked very elfin and queer + as she approached the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, Miss Nora, it's a word I want with you, a-colleen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—what is it, Hannah?” answered Nora. She dropped her hands to + her sides and turned her laughing, radiant face upon the little woman. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then, it's a sight for sore eyes you are, Miss Nora. Why, it is a + beauty you are, Miss Nora honey, and hondsomer and hondsomer you gets + every time I see yez. It's the truth I'm a-telling yez, Miss Nora; it's + the honest truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it is, Hannah, for it is very pleasant hearing,” answered Nora. + “Do I really get handsomer and handsomer? I must be a beauty like my + grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she was a lady to worship,” replied Hannah, dropping a courtesy to + the memory; “such ways as she had, and her eyes as blue and dark as the + blessed night when the moon's at the full, just for all the world like + your very own. Why, you're the mortal image of her; not a doubt of it, + miss, not a doubt of it. But there, I want to say a word to yez, and we + need not spend time talking about nothing but mere looks. Looks is + passing, miss; they goes by and leaves yez withered up, and there are + other things to think of this blessed morning.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “And it's I that forgot to wish yez the top of the morning,” continued the + little woman. “I hear the masther and Masther Terry has gone to foreign + parts—is it true, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not true of my father,” replied Nora; “he has only gone to Dublin.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, bless him! he's one in a thousand, is the Squire,” said Hannah. “But + what about the young masther, him with the handsome face and the ways?—aye, + but he aint got your nice, bonny Irish ways, Miss Nora—no, that he + aint.” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone to England for a time to visit some of my mother's + relations,” replied Nora. “I am, sure it will do him a great deal of good, + and dear mother is so pleased. Now, then, Hannah, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Hannah went close to the girl and touched her on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “What about your promise to Andy Neil?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “My promise to Andy Neil,” said Nora, starting and turning pale. “How do + you know about it?” + </p> + <p> + “A little bird told me,” replied Hannah. “This is what it said: 'Find out + if Miss Nora, the bonniest and handsomest young lady in the place, has + kept her word to Andy.' Have you done it, Miss Nora? for it's word I have + got to take the crayther, and this very night, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” said Nora. “Where are you going to meet him?” + </p> + <p> + “In the haunted glen, just by the Druid's Stone,” replied the woman. + </p> + <p> + “At what hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Tin o'clock, deary. Aw, glory be to God! it's just when the clock strikes + tin that he'll be waiting for me there.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no message,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, Miss Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + “When will you have?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nora, you don't mane it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do, Hannah. I have nothing to do with Andy Neil. I did what I + could for him, but that little failed. You can tell him that if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it in earnest you are, Miss Nora? Do you mane to say that you'll + let the poor crayther have the roof taken off his cabin? Do you mane it + miss?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't have the roof taken off his cabin,” said Nora; “but father is + away, and he is Andy's landlord, and Andy has done something to displease + him. He had better come and talk to father himself. I kept my word, and + spoke; but I couldn't do anything. Andy had better talk to father himself; + I can do no more.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't guess as it's black rage is in the crayther's heart, and that + there's no crime he wouldn't stoop to,” whispered Hannah in a low, + awestruck voice. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it, Hannah; I am not going to be frightened. Andy would not + really injure me, not in cold blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wouldn't he just? The man's heart is hot within him; it's the thought + of the roof being taken off his cabin. I have come as his messenger. You + had best send some sort of message to keep him on the quiet for a bit. + Don't you send a hard message of that sort, heart asthore; you'll do a + sight of mischief if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only send him a true message,” replied the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Whisht now, Miss Nora! You wouldn't come and see him yourself tonight by + the Druid's Stone?” + </p> + <p> + Nora stood for a moment considering. She was not frightened; she had never + known that quality. Even in the cave, when her danger was extreme, she had + not succumbed to fear; it was impossible for her to feel it now, with the + sunlight filling her eyes and the softest of summer breezes blowing + against her cheeks. She looked full at Hannah. + </p> + <p> + “I won't go,” she said shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nora, I wouldn't ask yez if I could help myself. It's bothered I am + entirely, and frightened too. You'll come with me, Miss Nora—won't + yez?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not come,” answered Nora. “My mother is alone, and I cannot leave + her; but I tell you what I will do. Just to show Andy that I am not afraid + of him, when father returns I will come. Father will be back in a couple + of days; when he returns I will speak to him once more about Andy, and I + will bring Andy the message; and that is all I can promise. If that is all + you want to say to me, Hannah, I will go home now, for mother is all + alone.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah stood with her little, squat figure silhouetted against the sky; + she had placed both her arms akimbo, and was gazing at Nora with a + half-comical, half-frightened glance. + </p> + <p> + “You're a beauty,” she said, “and you has the courage of ten women. I'll + tell Andy what you say; but, oh, glory! there's mischief in that man's + eyes, or I'm much mistook.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't frighten me,” said Nora, with a laugh. “How are the children?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bless yez, they're as well and bonny as can be. Little Mike, he said + he'd stand and wait till you passed by the gate, he's that took up with + you, Miss Nora. You'd be concaited if you heard all he says about you.” + </p> + <p> + Nora thrust her hand into her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” she said, “is a bright halfpenny; give it to Mike, and tell him + that Nora loves him very much. And now I am going home. Hannah, you'll + remember my message to Andy, and please let him understand that he is not + going to frighten me into doing anything I don't think right.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — THE INVITATION. + </h2> + <p> + Squire O'Shanaghgan came home in a couple of days. He entered the house in + noisy fashion, and appeared to be quite cheerful. He had a great deal to + say about Dublin, and talked much of his old friends during the evening + that followed. Nora, however, try as she would, could never meet his eye, + and she guessed, even before he told her, that his mission had been a + failure. It was early the next morning that he gave her this information. + </p> + <p> + “I tried them, one and all, colleen,” he said, “and never were fellows + more taken aback. 'Is it you to lose your property, O'Shanaghgan?' they + said. They wouldn't believe me at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father, and will they help?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, they would if they could. There's not a better-natured man in + the length and breadth of Ireland than Fin O'Hara; and as to John + Fitzgerald, I believe he would take us all into his barrack of a house; + but they can't help with money, Nora, because, bedad, they haven't got it. + A man can't turn stones into money, even for his best and dearest + friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is to be done, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll manage somehow,” said Squire O'Shanaghgan; “and we have three + months all but a week to turn round in. We'll manage by hook or by crook. + Don't you fret your pretty little head. I wouldn't have a frown on the + brow of my colleen for fifty O'Shanaghgans, and that's plain enough. I + couldn't say more, could I?” + </p> + <p> + “No, father dear,” answered Nora a little sadly. + </p> + <p> + “And tell me what you were doing while I was away,” said the Squire. + “Faith! I thought I could never get back fast enough, I seemed to pine so + for you, colleen; you fit me down to the ground.” + </p> + <p> + Nora began to relate the small occurrences which had taken place. The + Squire laughed at Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's sudden desire that Nora should be an + educated lady. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hold with these new fashions about women,” he said; “and you are + educated enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father, I like to read, I like to learn,” said the girl. “I am very, + very anxious to improve myself. I may be good enough for you, dear father, + for you love me with all my faults; but some day I may pine for the + knowledge which I have not got.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! is it that way with you?” said the Squire, looking at her anxiously. + “They say it's a sort of a craze now amongst women, the desire to beat us + men on our own ground; it's very queer, and I don't understand it, and I + am sorry if the craze has seized my girleen.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! never mind, father dear; I wouldn't fret you for all the learning in + Christendom.” + </p> + <p> + “And I wouldn't fret you for fifty estates like O'Shanaghgan,” said the + Squire, “so it strikes me we are both pretty equal in our sentiments.” He + patted her cheek, she linked her hand in his, and they walked together + down one of the sunny meadows. + </p> + <p> + Nora thought of Neil, but determined not to trouble her father about him + just then. Notwithstanding her cheerfulness, her own heart was very heavy. + She possessed, with all her Irish ways, some of the common sense of her + English ancestors, and knew from past experience that now there was no + hope at all of saving the old acres and the old house unless something + very unexpected turned up. She understood her father's character too well; + he would be happy and contented until a week before the three months were + up, and then he would break down utterly—go under, perhaps, forever. + As to turning his back on the home of his ancestors and the acres which + had come to him through a long line, Nora could not face such a + possibility. + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be; something must happen to prevent it,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + She thought and thought, and suddenly a daring idea came into her mind. + All her life long her mother's relations had been brought up to her as the + pink of propriety, the souls of wealth. Her uncle, George Hartrick, was, + according to her mother, a wealthy man. Her mother had often described + him. She had said that he had been very angry with her for marrying the + Squire, but had confessed that at times he had been heard to say that the + O'Shanaghgans were the proudest and oldest family in County Kerry, and + that some day he would visit them on their own estate. + </p> + <p> + “I have prevented his ever coming, Nora,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan; “it + would be such a shock to him. He thinks we live in a castle such as + English people live in, with suites of magnificent rooms, and crowds and + crowds of respectably dressed servants, and that we have carriages and + horses. I have kept up this delusion; he must never come over to see the + nakedness of the land.” + </p> + <p> + But now the fact that her Uncle George had never seen the nakedness of the + land, and that he was attached to her mother, and proud of the fact that + she had married an Irish gentleman of old descent, kept visiting Nora + again and again. If she could only see him! If she could only beg of him + to lend her father a little money just to avert the crowning disgrace of + all—the O'Shanaghgans leaving their home because they could not + afford to stop there, Nora thought, and the wild idea which had crept into + her head gathered strength. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing for it; something desperate must be done,” she thought. + “Father won't save himself, because he does not know how. He will just + drift on until a week of the fatal day, and then he will have an illness. + I cannot let father die; I cannot let his heart be broken. I, Nora, will + do something.” + </p> + <p> + So one day she locked herself in her room. She stayed there for a couple + of hours, and when she came out again a letter was thrust into her pocket. + Nora was not a good letter-writer, and this one had taken nearly two hours + to produce. Tears had blotted its pages, and the paper on which it was + written was of the poorest, but it was done at last. She put a stamp on it + and ran downstairs. She went to Hannah's cabin. Standing in front of the + cabin was her small admirer Mike. He was standing on his head with the + full blaze of the sunlight all over him, his ragged trousers had slipped + down almost to his knees, and his little brown bare legs and feet were + twinkling in the sun. His bright sloe-black eyes were fixed on Nora as she + approached. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Mike,” said the girl. Mike instantly obeyed, and gave a + violent tug to one of his front locks by way of salutation. He then stood + with his legs slightly apart, watching Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Mike, I want you to go a message for me.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, miss,” answered Mike. + </p> + <p> + “Take this letter to the post-office; put it yourself into the little slit + in the wall. I will give you a penny when you have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss,” answered Mike. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the letter; thrust it into your pocket. Don't let anyone see it; + it's a secret.” + </p> + <p> + “A saycret, to be sure, miss,” answered Mike. + </p> + <p> + “And you shall have your penny if you come up to the Castle tonight. Now + good-by; run off at once and you will catch the mail.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure,” said Mike. He winked at Nora, rolled his tongue in his + cheek, and disappeared like a flash down the dusty road. + </p> + <p> + The next few days seemed to drag themselves somehow. Nora felt limp, and + not in her usual spirits. The Squire was absent a good deal, too. He was + riding all over the country trying to get a loan from his different + friends. He was visiting one house after another. Some of the houses were + neat and well-to-do, but most of them sadly required funds to put them in + order. At every house Squire O'Shanaghgan received a hearty welcome, an + invitation to dinner, and a bed for the night; but when he made his + request the honest face that looked into his became sorrowful, the hands + stole to the empty pockets, and refusals, accompanied by copious + apologies, were the invariable result. + </p> + <p> + “There's no one in all the world I would help sooner, Pat, if I could,” + said Squire O'Grady; “but I have not got it, my man. I am as hard pressed + as I can be myself. We don't get in the rents these times. Times are bad—very + bad. God help us all! But if you are turned out, what an awful thing it + will be! And your family the oldest in the place. You're welcome, every + one of you, to come here. As long as I have a bite and sup, you and yours + shall share it with me.” And Squire Malone said the same thing, and so did + the other squires. There was no lack of hospitality, no lack of good will, + no lack of sorrow for poor Squire O'Shanaghgan's calamities; but funds to + avert the blow were not forthcoming. + </p> + <p> + The Squire more and more avoided Nora's eyes; and Nora, who now had a + secret of her own, and a hope which she would scarcely dare to confess + even to herself, avoided looking at him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan was a little more fretful than usual. She forgot all + about the lessons she had set her daughter in her laments over her absent + son, over the tattered and disgraceful state of the Castle, and the ruin + which seemed to engulf the family more and more. + </p> + <p> + Nora, meanwhile, was counting the days. She had made herself quite <i>au + fait</i> with postal regulations during these hours of waiting. She knew + exactly the very time when the letter would reach Mr. Hartrick in his + luxurious home. She thought she would give him, perhaps, twelve hours, + perhaps twenty-four, before he replied. She knew, then, how long the + answer would take on its way. The night before she expected her letter she + scarcely slept at all. She came down to breakfast with black shadows under + her eyes and her face quite wan. + </p> + <p> + The Squire, busy with his own load of trouble, scarcely noticed her. Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan took her place languidly at the head of the board. She poured + out a cup of tea for her daughter and another for her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I must send to Dublin for some better tea,” she said, looking at the + Squire. “Can you let me have a pound after breakfast, Pat? I may as well + order a small chest while I am about it.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire looked at her with lack-luster eyes. Where had he got one pound + for tea? But he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Just then the gossoon Mike was seen passing the window with the post-bag + hung over his shoulder. Mike was the postman in general for the + O'Shanaghgan household for the large sum of twopence a week. He went daily + to fetch the letters, and received his money proudly each Saturday night. + Nora now jumped up from the table. + </p> + <p> + “The letters!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan surveyed her daughter critically. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down again, Nora,” she said. “What is the matter with you? You know I + don't allow these manners at table.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is the post, mammy,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, if you will be patient, Margaret will bring the post in.” + </p> + <p> + Nora sat down again, trembling. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan gave her a cold stare, + and helped herself languidly to a small snippet of leathery toast. + </p> + <p> + “Our cook gets worse and worse,” she said as she broke it. “Dear, dear! I + think I must make a change. I have heard of an excellent cook just about + to leave some people of the name of Wilson in the town. They are English + people, which accounts for their having a good servant.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the redoubtable Pegeen did thrust in her head, holding the + post-bag at arm's length away from her. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the post, Miss Nora,” she said; “maybe you'll fetch it, miss. I'm + a bit dirty.” + </p> + <p> + Nora could not restrain herself another moment. She rushed across the + room, seized the bag, and laid it by her father's side. As a rule, the + post-bag was quickly opened, and its small contents dispersed. These + consisted of the local paper for the Squire, which was always put up with + the letters, a circular or two, and, at long intervals, a letter for Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan, and perhaps one from an absent friend for the Squire. No one + was excited, as a rule, about the post at the Castle, and Nora's + ill-suppressed anxiety was sufficiently marked now to make even her father + look at her in some surprise. To the girl's relief, her mother + unexpectedly came to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + “She thinks, perhaps, Terence will write,” she said; “but I told him not + to worry himself writing too often. Stamps cost money, and the boy will + need every penny to keep up a decent appearance at my brother's.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, perhaps he will be an Irish boy enough to write a letter to + his own sister,” said the Squire. “So here goes; we'll look and see if + there is anything inside here for you, my little Norrie.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire unlocked the bag and emptied the contents on the table. They + were very meager contents; nothing but the newspaper and one letter. The + Squire took it up and looked at it. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are,” he said; “it is for you, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “For me,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, holding out her hand. “Pass it across, + Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not for you, my lady, as it happens. It is for Nora. Here, + Norrie, take it.” + </p> + <p> + Nora took it up. She was shivering now, and her hand could scarcely hold + it. It was addressed to her, beyond doubt: “Miss O'Shanaghgan, Castle + O'Shanaghgan,” etc. + </p> + <p> + “Read it at once, Nora,” said her mother. “I have not yet had any letter + to speak of from Terry myself. If you read it aloud it will entertain us. + It seems to be a thick letter.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think—I don't think it—it is from Terence,” answered + Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Open it, Norrie, and tell us,” said the Squire. “It will be refreshing to + hear a bit of outside news.” + </p> + <p> + Nora now opened the envelope, and took a very thick sheet of paper out. + The contents of the letter ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “My Dear Nora—Your brother Terence came here a week ago, and has + told us a great deal about you. We are enjoying having him extremely; but + he has made us all anxious to know you also. I write now to ask if you + will come and pay us a visit at once, while your brother is here. Ask your + mother to spare you. You can return with Terence whenever you are tired of + us and our ways. I have business at Holyhead next Tuesday, and could meet + you there, if you could make it convenient to cross that day. I inclose a + paper with the hours that the boats leave, and when they arrive at + Holyhead. I could then take you up with me to London, and we could reach + here that same evening. Ask my sister to spare you. You will be heartily + welcome, my little Irish niece.—Your affectionate uncle, + </p> + <p> + “George Hartrick.” + </p> + <p> + Nora could scarcely read the words aloud. When she had finished she let + the sheet of paper flutter to the floor, and looked at her mother with + glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I may go? I must go,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Nora,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, “why that must?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mammy! oh, daddy! don't disappoint me,” cried the girl. “Do—do + let me go, please, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan again, “I never saw you so unreasonable in + your life; you are quite carried away. Your uncle, after long years, has + condescended to send you an invitation, and you speak in this impulsive, + unrestrained fashion. Of course, it would be extremely nice for you to go; + but I doubt for a single moment if it can be afforded.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, daddy, daddy! please take my part!” cried Nora. “Please let me go, + daddy—oh, daddy!” She rushed up to her father, flung her arms round + his neck, and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan rose from the table in cold displeasure. “Give me your + uncle's letter,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Nora did not glance at her; she was past speaking. So much hung on this; + all the future of the O'Shanaghgans; the Castle, the old Castle, the home + of her ancestors, the place in which she was born, the land she loved, the + father she adored—all, all their future hung upon Nora's accepting + the invitation which she had asked her uncle to give her. Oh! if they ever + found out, what would her father and mother say? Would they ever speak to + her again? But they must not find out, and she must go; yes, she must go. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Nora? Do leave her alone for a moment, wife,” said the + Squire. “There is something behind all this. I never saw Light o' the + Morning give way to pure selfishness before.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't—it isn't,” sobbed Nora, her head buried on the Squire's + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My darling, light of my eyes, colleen asthore, acushla machree!” said the + Squire. He lavished fond epithets upon the girl, and finally took her into + his arms, and clasped her tight to his breast. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, after staring at the two in speechless indignation for + a moment, left the room. When she reached the door she turned round. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot stand Irish heroics,” she said. “This is a disgraceful scene. + Nora, I am thoroughly ashamed of you.” + </p> + <p> + She carried her brother's letter away with her, however, and retired into + the drawing room. There she read it carefully. + </p> + <p> + How nice it would be if Nora could go! And Nora was a beauty, too—an + Irish beauty; the sort of girl who always goes down in England. She would + want respectable dress; and then—with her taking ways and those + roguish, dark-blue eyes of hers, with that bewitching smile which showed a + gleam of the whitest and most pearly teeth in the world, with the light, + lissome figure, and the blue-black hair—what could not Irish Nora + achieve? Conquests innumerable; she might make a match worthy of her race + and name; she might—oh, she might do anything. She was only a child, + it is true; but all the same she was a budding woman. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan sat and pondered. + </p> + <p> + “It seems a great pity to refuse,” she said to herself. “And Nora does + need discipline badly; the discipline of England and my brother's + well-ordered home will work wonders with her. Poor child, her father will + miss her. I really sometimes think the Squire is getting into his dotage. + He makes a perfect fool of that girl; to see her there speaking in that + selfish way, and he petting her, and calling her ridiculous names, with no + meaning in them, and folding her in his arms as if she were a baby, and + all for pure, downright selfishness, is enough to make any sensible person + sick. Nora, too, who has always been spoken of as the unselfish member of + the family, who would not spend a penny to save her life if she thought + the Squire was going to suffer. Now she wants him to put his hand into his + pocket for a considerable amount; for the child cannot go to my brother + without suitable clothes—that is a foregone conclusion. But, dear + me! all women are selfish when it comes to mere pleasure, and Nora is no + better than the rest. For my part, I admire dear Terence's downright + method of asking for so-and-so, and getting it. Nora is deceitful. I am + much disappointed in her.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — THE DIAMOND CROSS. + </h2> + <p> + But although Mrs. O'Shanaghgan spoke of her daughter to herself as + deceitful, she did not at all give up the idea of her accepting her + uncle's invitation. George Hartrick had always had an immense influence + over his sister Ellen. He and she had been great friends long ago, when + the handsome, bright girl had been glad to take the advice of her elder + brother. They had almost quarreled at that brief period of madness in + Ellen Hartrick's life, when she had fallen in love with handsome Squire + O'Shanaghgan; but that quarrel had long been made up. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan + had married the owner of O'Shanaghgan Castle, and had rued her brief + madness ever since. But her pride had prevented her complaining to her + brother George. George still imagined that she kept her passionate love + intact for the wild Irishman. Only one thing she had managed ever since + their parting, many years ago, and that was, that her English brother + should not come to see her in her Irish home. One excuse after the other + she had offered, and at last she had told him frankly that the ways of the + Irish were not his ways; and that, when he really wanted to see his + sister, he must invite her to come to England to visit him. + </p> + <p> + Hartrick was hurt at Ellen's behavior, and as he himself had married about + the same time, and his own young family were growing up around him, and + the making of money and the toil of riches were claiming him more and + more, he did not often think of the sister who was away in the wilds of + Ireland. She had married one of the proud old Irish chiefs. She had a very + good position in her way; and when her son and daughter required a little + peep into the world, Hartrick resolved that they should have it. He had + invited Terence over; and now Nora's letter, with its perplexity, its + anguish, its bold request, and its final tenderness, had come upon him + with a shock of surprise. + </p> + <p> + George Hartrick was a much stronger character than his sister. He was a + very fine man, indeed, with splendid principles and downright ways; and + there was something about this outspoken and queer letter which touched + him in spite of himself. He was not easily touched; but he respected the + writer of that letter. He felt that if he knew her he could get on with + her. He resolved to treat her confidence with the respect it seemed to him + it deserved; and, without hesitation, he wrote her the sort of letter she + had asked him to write. She should pay him a visit, and he would find out + for himself the true state of things at Castle O'Shanaghgan. Whether he + would help the Squire or not, whether there was any need to help him, he + could not say, for Nora had not really revealed much of the truth in her + passionate letter. She had hinted at it, but she had not spoken; she would + wait for that moment of outpouring of her heart until she arrived at The + Laurels. + </p> + <p> + Now, Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, standing alone in her big, empty drawing room, and + looking out at the summer landscape, thought of how Nora might enter her + brother's house. Fond as Mrs. O'Shanaghgan was of Terence—he was in + truth a son after her own heart—she had a queer kind of pride about + her with regard to Nora. Wild and untutored as Nora looked, her mother + knew that few girls in England could hold a candle to her, if justice were + done her. There was something about the expression in Nora's eyes which + even Mrs. O'Shanaghgan could scarcely resist at times, and there were + tones and inflections of entreaty in Nora's voice which had a strange + power of melting the hearts of those who listened to her. + </p> + <p> + After about an hour Mrs. O'Shanaghgan went very slowly upstairs. Her + bedroom was over the drawing room. It was just as large as the drawing + room—a great bare apartment. The carpet which covered the floor was + so threadbare that the boards showed through in places; the old, faded + chintz curtains which hung at the windows were also in tatters; but they + were perfectly clean, for Mrs. O'Shanaghgan did her best to retain that + English cleanliness and order which she felt were so needed in the land of + desolation, as she was pleased to call Ireland. + </p> + <p> + A huge four-post bedstead occupied a prominent place against one of the + walls; there was an enormous mahogany wardrobe against another; but the + whole center of the room was bare. The dressing-table, however, which + stood right in the center of the huge bay, was full of pretty things—silver + appointments of different kinds, brushes and combs heavily mounted in + silver, glass bottles with silver stoppers, perfume bottles, pretty + knick-knacks of all sorts. When Nora was a little child she used to stand + fascinated, gazing at her mother's dressing-table. It was the one spot + where any of the richness of the Englishwoman's early life could still be + found. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan went up now and looked at her dressing-table, + sweeping her eyes rapidly over its contents. The brushes and combs, the + bottles of scent, the button-hooks, the shoe-horns, the thousand-and-one + little nothings, polished and bright, stood upon the dressing-table; and + besides these there was a large, silver-mounted jewel-case. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan was not at all afraid to leave this jewel-case out, + exposed to view day after day, for no one all round the place would have + touched so much as a pin which belonged to the Squire's lady. The people + were poor, and would think nothing of stealing half a bag of potatoes, or + helping themselves to a good sack of fruit out of the orchard; but to take + the things from the lady's bedroom or anything at all out of the house + they would have scorned. They had their own honesty, and they loved the + Squire too much to attempt anything of the sort. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan now put a key into the lock of the jewel-case and opened + it. When first she was married it was full of pretty things—long + strings of pearls, a necklet of very valuable diamonds, a tiara of the + same, rings innumerable, bracelets, head ornaments of different kinds, + buckles for shoes, clasps for belts, pins, brooches. Mrs. O'Shanaghan, + when Nora was a tiny child, used on every one of the little girl's + birthdays to allow her to overhaul the jewel case; but of late years Nora + had never looked inside it, and Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had religiously kept it + locked. She opened it now with a sigh. The upper tray was quite empty; the + diamonds had long ago been disposed of. They had gone to pay for Terence's + schooling, for Terence's clothes, for one thing and another that required + money. They had gone, oh! so quickly; had melted away so certainly. That + first visit of her son's to England had cost Mrs. O'Shanaghgan her long + string of pearls, which had come to her as an heirloom from her mother + before her. They were very valuable pearls, and she had sold them for a + tenth, a twentieth part of their value. The jeweler in Dublin, who was + quite accustomed to receiving the poor lady's trinkets, had sent her a + check for fifty pounds for the pearls, knowing well that he could sell + them himself for at least three hundred pounds. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan now once more rifled the jewel case. There were some + things still left—two or three rings and a diamond cross. She had + never wanted to part with that cross. She had pictured over and over how + it would shine on Nora's white neck; how lovely Nora would look when + dressed for her first ball, having that white Irish cross, with its + diamonds and its single emerald in the center, shining on her breast. But + would it not be better to give Nora the chance of spending three or four + months in England, the chance of educating herself, and let the cross go + by? It was so valuable that the good lady quite thought that she ought to + get seventy pounds for it. With seventy pounds she could fit Nora up for + her English visit, and have a little over to keep in her own pocket. Only + Nora must not go next Tuesday; that was quite impossible. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan quickly determined to make the sacrifice. She could + still supply Nora with a little, very simple pearl necklet, to wear with + her white dress during her visit; and the cross would have to go. There + would be a few rings still left; after that the jewel case would be empty. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan packed the precious cross into a little box, and took it + out herself to register it, and to send it off to the jeweler who always + bought the trinkets she sent him. She told him that she expected him to + give her, without the smallest demur, seventy pounds for the cross, and + hoped to have the money by the next day's post. + </p> + <p> + Having done this and dispatched her letter, she walked briskly back to the + Castle. She saw Nora wandering about in the avenue. Nora, hatless and + gloveless, was playing with the dogs. She seemed to have forgotten all + about her keen disappointment of the morning. When she saw her mother + coming up the avenue she ran to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, mammy,” she said, “how early you are out! Where have you been?” + </p> + <p> + “I dislike extremely that habit you have, Nora, of calling me mammy; + mother is the word you should address your parent with. Please remember in + future that I wish to be called mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, mother!” answered Nora. The girl had the sweetest temper in the + world, and no amount of reproof ever caused her to answer angrily. “But + where have you been?” she said, her curiosity getting the better of her + prudence. + </p> + <p> + “Again, Nora, I am sorry to say I must reprove you. I have been to the + village on business of my own. It is scarcely your affair where I choose + to walk in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course not, mam—I mean mother.” + </p> + <p> + “But come with me down this walk. I have something to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + Nora eagerly complied. There was something in the look of her mother's + eyes which made her guess that the usual subject of conversation—her + own want of deportment, her ignorance of etiquette—was not to be the + theme. She felt her heart, which had sunk like lead within her, rise again + to the surface. Her eyes sparkled and smiles played round her rosy lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother,” she said; “yes.” + </p> + <p> + “All impulse,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan—she laid her hand on Nora's + arm—“all impulse, all Irish enthusiasm.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help it, you know,” said Nora. “I was born that way. I am Irish, + you know, mammy.” + </p> + <p> + “You are also English, my dear,” replied her mother. “Pray remember that + fact when you see your cousins.” + </p> + <p> + “My cousins! My English cousins! But am I to see them? Mother, mother, do + you mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do mean it, Nora. I intend you to accept your uncle's invitation. No + heroics, please,” as the girl was about to fling her arms round her + mother's neck; “keep those for your father, Nora; I do not wish for them. + I intend you to go and behave properly; pray remember that when you give + way to pure Irishism, as I may express your most peculiar manners, you + disgrace me, your mother. I mean you to go in order to have you tamed a + little. You are absolutely untamed now, unbroken in.” + </p> + <p> + “I never want to be broken in,” whispered Nora, tears of mingled + excitement and pain at her mother's words brimming to her eyes. “Oh, + mother!” she said, with a sudden wail, “will you never, never understand + Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand her quite well,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, her voice assuming + an unwonted note of softness; “and because I do understand Nora so well,” + she added—and now she patted the girl's slender arm—“I want + her to have this great advantage, for there is much that is good in you, + Nora. But you are undisciplined, my dear; wild, unkempt. Little did I + think in the old days that a daughter of mine should have to have such + things said to her. Our more stately, more sober ways will be a revelation + to you, Nora. To your brother Terence they will come as second nature; but + you, my dear, will have to be warned beforehand. I warn you now that your + Uncle George will not understand the wild excitement which you seem to + consider the height of good breeding at O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, mother,” said Nora, “don't say anything against O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I doing so?” said the poor lady. She stood for a moment and looked + around her. Nora stopped also and when she saw her mother's eyes travel to + the rambling old house, to the neglected lawn, the avenue overgrown with + weeds, it seemed to her that a stab of the cruelest pain was penetrating + her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Mother sees all the ugliness; she is determined to,” thought Nora; “but I + see all the beauty. Oh! the dear, dear old place, it shan't go if Nora can + save it.” Then, with a great effort, she controlled herself. + </p> + <p> + “How am I to go?” she said. “Where is the money to come from?” + </p> + <p> + “You need not question me on that point,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. “I will + provide the means.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother!” said Nora; “no, I would rather stay.” But then she + remembered all that this involved; she knew quite well that her mother had + rifled the jewel-case; but as she had done so over and over again just for + Terence's mere pleasure, might she not do so once more to save the old + place? + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said demurely; “I won't ask any questions.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better not, for I have not the slightest idea of replying to + them,” answered Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. “I shall write to your uncle to-day. + You cannot go next week, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! why not? He said Tuesday; he would meet me at Holyhead on Tuesday.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try and provide a fit escort for you to England; But you cannot go + next Tuesday; your wardrobe forbids it,” answered Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “My wardrobe! Oh, mother, I really need not bother about clothes!” + </p> + <p> + “You may not bother about them, Nora; but I intend to,” replied Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan. “I must buy you some suitable dress.” + </p> + <p> + “But how will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not been away from Castle O'Shanaghgan for a long time,” said Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan, “and it will be a nice change for me. I shall take you to + Dublin, and get you what things are necessary. I will then see you off on + board the steamer.” + </p> + <p> + “But would not father be best?” + </p> + <p> + “Your father can come with us or not, just as he pleases; but I am the + person who will see to your wardrobe for your English visit,” replied her + mother. + </p> + <p> + Nora, excited, bewildered, charmed, had little or nothing to oppose to + this plan. After all, her mother was coming out in a new light. How + indifferent she had been about Nora's dress in the past! For Terence were + the fashionable coats and the immaculate neckties and the nice gloves and + the patent-leather boots. For Nora! Now and then an old dress of her + mother's was cut down to fit the girl; but as a rule she wore anything she + could lay hands on, made anyhow. It is true she was never grotesque like + Biddy Murphy; but up to the present dress had scarcely entered at all as a + factor into her life. + </p> + <p> + The next few days passed in a whirl of bewildered excitement. Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan received, as she expected, by return of post, seventy pounds + from the Dublin jeweler for her lovely diamond cross. This man was rapidly + making his fortune out of poor Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, and he knew that he had + secured a splendid bargain for himself when he bought the cross. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, therefore, with a full purse, could give directions to + her household during her brief absence, and altogether was much brightened + and excited at the thought of Nora's visit. She had written herself to her + brother, saying that she would be very glad to spare her daughter, and + giving him one or two hints with regard to Nora's manners and bringing up. + </p> + <p> + “The Irish have quite different ideas, my dear brother,” she wrote, “with + regard to etiquette to those which were instilled into us; but you will + bear patiently with my little wild Irish girl, for she has a very true + heart, and is also, I think you will admit, nice-looking.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick, who read between the lines of his sister's letter, wrote to + say that business would bring him to Holyhead on the following Tuesday + week also, and, therefore, it would be quite convenient for him to meet + Nora on that day. + </p> + <p> + The evening before she was to depart arrived at last. The Squire had spent + a busy day. From the moment when Nora had told him that her mother had + provided funds, and that she was to go to England, he had scarcely + reverted to the matter. In truth, with that curious Irish phase in his + character which is more or less the inheritance of every member of his + country, he contrived to put away the disagreeable subject even from his + thoughts. He was busy, very busy, attending to his farm and riding round + his establishment. He was still hoping against hope that some money would + come in his way long before the three months were up, when the mortgagee + would foreclose on his property. He was not at all unhappy, and used to + enter his house singing lustily or whistling loudly. Nora sometimes + wondered if he also forgot how soon she was going to leave him. His first + call when he entered the house had always been “Light o' the Morning, + where are you? Come here, asthore; the old dad has returned,” or some such + expression. It came to the excited girl's heart with a pang how he would + miss her when she was no longer there; how he would call for her in vain, + and feel bewildered for a moment, and then remember that she was far away. + </p> + <p> + “But I shan't be long away,” she thought; “and when I come back and save + him and the old place, oh, how glad he will be! He will indeed then think + me his Light o' the Morning, for I shall have saved him and the old home.” + </p> + <p> + But the last evening came, and Nora considered whether she ought to recall + the fact that she was going away, perhaps for a couple of months, to her + father. He came in as usual, sat down heavily on the nearest settee, and + stretched out his long legs. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if I am getting old?” he said. “I declare I feel a bit tired. + Come along here, Nora, and cheer me up. What news have you this evening, + little woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father! don't you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your eyes look bright enough. What is it, girleen?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going away to Dublin to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You? Bless you! so you are,” said the Squire, with a hearty laugh. “Upon + my soul I forgot all about it. Well, and you are going to have a good + time, and you'll forget the old dad—eh?—you'll forget all + about the old dad?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, father, you know better,” said Nora—she flung her arms + round his neck and laid her soft cheek against his—“as if I could + ever forget you for a single moment,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, a-colleen; I know it, heart's asthore. Of course you won't. I + am right glad you are going; it will be a nice change for you. And what + about the bits of duds—eh?—and the pretty trinkets? Why, + you'll be going into grand society; you'll be holding your little head + like a queen. Don't you forget, my pet, that you're Irish through and + through, and that you come of a long line of brave ancestors. The women of + your house never stooped to a shabby action, Nora; and never one of them + sacrificed her honor for gold or anything else; and the men were brave, + girleen, very brave, and had never fear in one of them. You remember that, + and keep yourself upright and brave and proud, and come back to the old + dad with as pure and loving a heart as you have now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father, of course, of course. But you will miss me? you will miss + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad! I expect I shall,” said the Squire; “but I am not going to fret, + so don't you imagine it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you,” said Nora in a low whisper—“have you done anything + about-about the mortgage?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you be aisy,” said the Squire, giving her a playful poke; “and if you + can't be aisy, be as aisy as you can,” he continued, referring to the old + well-known saying. “Things will come right enough. Why, the matter is + weeks off yet. It was only yesterday I heard from an old friend, Larry + M'Dermott, who has been in Australia, and has made a fine pile. He is back + again, and I am thinking of seeing him and settling up matters with him. + Don't you have an uneasy thought in your head, my child. I'll write to you + when the thing is fixed up, as fixed it will be by all that's likely in a + week or fortnight from now. But look here, Norrie, you'll want something + to keep in your pocket when you are away. I had best give you a five-pound + note.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Nora. “I wouldn't touch it; I don't want it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Is it too proud you are?” + </p> + <p> + “No; mother is helping me to this visit. I don't know how she has got + money. I suppose in the old way.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul!” said the Squire. “To tell you the truth, Norrie, I can't bear + to look at that jewel-case of hers. I believe, upon my word, that it is + nearly empty. She is very generous, is your mother. She's a very fine + woman, and I am desperate proud of her. When M'Dermott helps me to tide + over this pinch I'll have all those jewels back again by hook or by crook. + Your mother shan't suffer in the long run, and I'll do a lot to the old + place—the old house wants papering and painting. We'll dance a merry + jig at O'Shanaghgan at your wedding, my little girl; and now don't keep + me, for I have got to go out to meet Murphy. He said he would look around + about this hour.” + </p> + <p> + Nora left her father, and wandered out into the soft summer gloaming. She + went down the avenue, and leaned for a time over the gate. The white gate + was sadly in need of paint, but it was not hanging off its hinges as the + gate was which led to the estate of Cronane. Nora put her feet on the last + rung, leaned her arms on the top one, and swayed softly, as she thought of + all that was about to happen, and the glorious adventures which would in + all probability be hers during the next few weeks. As she thought, and + forgot herself in dreams of the future, a low voice calling her name + caused her to start. A man with shaggy hair and wild, bright eyes had come + up to the other side of the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, Miss Nora, how are ye this evening?” he said. He pulled his + forelock as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + Nora felt a sudden coldness come over all her rosy dreams; but she was too + Irish and too like her ancestors to feel any fear, although she could not + help remembering that she was nearly half a mile away from the house, and + that there was not a soul anywhere within call. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Andy,” she said. “I must be going home now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't just yet,” he answered. He came up and laid his dirty hand + on her white sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't touch me,” said Nora proudly. She sprang off the gate, and + stood a foot or two away. “Don't come in,” she continued; “stay where you + are. If you have anything to say, say it there.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad! it's a fine young lady that it is,” said the man. “It aint + afeared, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid!” said Nora. “What do you take me for?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, then, I take yez for what you are,” said the man—“as fine and + purty a slip of a girleen as ever dwelt in the old Castle; but be yez + twice as purty, and be yez twice as fine, Andy Neil is not the man to + forget his word, his sworn word, his oath taken to the powers above and + the powers below, that if his bit of a roof is taken off his head, why, + them as does it shall suffer. It's for you to know that, Miss Nora. I + would have drowned yez in the deep pool and nobody would ever be the + wiser, but I thought better of that; and I could here—yes, even now—I + could choke yez round your pretty soft neck and nobody would be any the + wiser, and I'd think no more of it than I'd think of crushing a fly. I + won't do it; no I won't, Miss Nora; but there's <i>thim</i> as will have + to suffer if Andy Neil is turned out of his hut. You spake for me, Miss + Nora; you spake up for me, girleen. Why, the Squire, you're the light of + his eyes; you spake up, and say, 'Lave poor Andy in his little hut; lave + poor Andy with a roof over him. Don't mind the bit of a rint.' Why, then, + Miss Nora, how can I pay the rint? Look at my arrum, dear.” As the man + spoke he thrust out his arm, pushing up his ragged shirt sleeve. The arm + was almost like that of a skeleton's; the skin was starting over the + bones. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is dreadful!” said Nora, all the pity in her heart welling up into + her eyes. “I am truly, truly sorry for you, Andy, I would do anything in + my power. It is just this: you know father?” + </p> + <p> + “Squire? Yes, I guess I know Squire,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” continued Nora, “that when he takes what you might call the + bit between his teeth nothing will move him. He is set against you, Andy. + Oh, Andy! I don't believe he will listen.” + </p> + <p> + “He had betther,” said the man, his voice dropping to a low growl; “he had + betther, and I say so plain. There's that in me would stick at nothing, + and you had best know it, Miss Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you not go away, Andy?” + </p> + <p> + “I—and what for?” + </p> + <p> + “But can you?” + </p> + <p> + “I could, but I won't.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe father will yield. I will send you some money from + England if you will promise to go away.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye; but I don't want it. I want to stay on. Where would my old bones lie + when I died if I am not in my own counthry? I'm not going to leave my + counthry for nobody. The cot where I was born shall see me die; and if the + roof is took off, why, I'll put it back again. I'll defy him and his + new-fangled ways and his English wife to the death. You'll see mischief if + you don't put things right, Miss Nora. It all rests with yez, alannah.” + </p> + <p> + “I am awfully sorry for you, Andy; but I don't believe you would seriously + injure father, for you know what the consequences would be.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye; but when a man like me is sore put to it he don't think of + consequences. It's just the burning wish to avenge his wrongs; that's what + he feels, and that's what I feel, Miss Nora, and so you had best take + warning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am going away to-morrow,” said the girl. “My father is in great + trouble, and wants money very badly himself, and I am going to England.” + </p> + <p> + “To be out of the way when the ruin comes. I know,” said the man, with a + loud laugh. + </p> + <p> + “No; you are utterly mistaken. Andy, don't you remember when I was a + little girl how you used to let me ride on your shoulder, and once you + asked me for a tiny bit of my hair, that time when it was all in curls, + and I gave you just the end of one of my curls, and you said you would + keep it to your dying day? Would you be cruel to Nora now, and just when + her heart is heavy?” + </p> + <p> + “Your heart heavy? You, one of the quality—'taint likely,” said the + man. + </p> + <p> + “It is true; my heart is very heavy. I am so anxious about father; you + won't make me more anxious—will you? You won't do anything—anything + wrong—while I am away? Will you make me a promise that you will let + me go with an easy mind?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask your father to give me three months' longer grace, and then we'll + see.” + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to him,” said Nora very slowly. “I am sorry, because he is + worried about other things, and he does not take it kindly when I + interfere in what he considers his own province; but I'll do my best. I + cannot stay another moment now, Andy. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand to him, and ran down the avenue, looking like a white + wraith as she disappeared into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — A FEATHER-BED HOUSE. + </h2> + <p> + Before she went to sleep that night Nora wrote a tiny note to her father: + </p> + <p> + “DEAREST DAD: + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of your Light o' the Morning, leave poor Andy Neil in his + little cottage until I come back again from England. Do, dear dad; this is + the last wish of Nora before she goes away. + </p> + <p> + “YOUR COLLEEN.” + </p> + <p> + She thought and thought, and felt that she could not have expressed + herself better. Fear would never influence the Squire; but he would do a + good deal for Nora. She laid the letter just where she knew he would see + it when he entered his ramshackle study on the following day; and the next + morning, with her arms clasped round his neck and her kisses on his + cheeks, she gave him one hearty hug, one fervent “God bless you, dad,” and + rushed after her mother. + </p> + <p> + The outside car was ready at the door. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan was already + mounted. Nora sprang up, and they were rattling off into the world, “to + seek my fortune,” thought the girl, “or rather the fortune of him I love + best.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire, with his grizzled locks and his deep-set eyes, stood in the + porch to watch Nora and her mother as they drove away. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be back in a twinkling, father; never you fret,” called out his + daughter, and then a turn in the road hid him from view. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nora, what are you crying for?” said her mother, who turned round at + that moment, and encountered the full gaze of the large dark-blue eyes + swimming in tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. I'll be all right in a moment,” was the answer, and then the + sunshine broke all over the girl's charming face; and before they reached + the railway station Nora was chatting to her mother as if she had not a + care in the world. + </p> + <p> + Her first visit to Dublin and the excitement of getting really pretty + dresses made the next two or three days pass like a flash. Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan with money in her pocket was a very different woman from Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan without a penny. She enjoyed making Nora presentable, and had + excellent taste and a keen eye for a bargain. She fitted up her daughter + with a modest but successful wardrobe, bought her a proper trunk to hold + her belongings, and saw her on board the steamer for Holyhead. + </p> + <p> + The crossing was a rough one, but the Irish girl did not suffer from + seasickness. She stood leaning over the taffrail chatting to the captain, + who thought her one of the most charming passengers he ever had to cross + in the <i>Munster</i>; and when they arrived at the opposite side, Mr. + Hartrick was waiting for his niece. He often said since that he would + never forget his first sight of Nora O'Shanaghgan. She was wearing a gray + tweed traveling dress, with a little gray cap to match; the slender young + figure, the rippling black hair, and the brilliant face flashed for an + instant on the tired vision of the man of business; then there came the + eager outstretching of two hands, and Nora had kissed him because she + could not help herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad to see you, Uncle George!” The words, the action, the + whole look were totally different from what his daughters would have said + or done under similar circumstances. He felt quite sure that his sister's + description of Nora was right in the main; but he thought her charming. + Drawing her hand through his arm, he took her to the railway station, + where the train was already waiting to receive its passengers. Soon they + were flying in <i>The Wild Irish Girl</i> to Euston. Nora was provided + with innumerable illustrated papers. Mr. Hartrick took out a little basket + which contained sandwiches, wine, and different cakes, and fed her with + the best he could procure. He did not ask her many questions, not even + about the Castle or her own life. He was determined to wait for all these + things. He read something of her story in her clear blue eyes; but he + would not press her for her confidence. He was anxious to know her a + little better. + </p> + <p> + “She is Irish, though, and they all exaggerate things so dreadfully,” was + his thought. “But I'll be very good to the child. What a contrast she is + to Terence! Not that Terence is scarcely Irish; but anyone can see that + this child has more of her father than her mother in her composition.” + </p> + <p> + They arrived at Euston; then there were fresh changes; a cab took them to + Waterloo, where they once again entered the train. + </p> + <p> + “Tired, my dear niece?” said her uncle as he settled her for the final + time in another first-class compartment. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I am too excited to be tired,” was her eager answer. And then + he smiled at her, arranged the window and blind to her liking, and they + started once more on their way. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick lived in a large place near Weybridge, and Nora had her first + glimpse of the lovely Surrey scenery. A carriage was waiting for the + travelers when they reached their destination—a carriage drawn by a + pair of spirited grays. Nora thought of Black Bess, and secretly compared + the grays to the disadvantage of the latter. But she was determined to be + as sweet and polite and English as her mother would desire. For the first + time in her whole existence she was feeling a little shy. She would have + been thoroughly at home on a dog cart, or on her favorite outside car, or + on the back of Black Bess, who would have carried her swift as the wind; + but in the landau, with her uncle seated by her side, she was altogether + at a loss. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like riches,” was her inward murmur. “I feel all in silken + chains, and it is not a bit pleasant; but how dear mammy—oh, I must + think of her as mother—how mother would enjoy it all!” + </p> + <p> + The horses were going slowly uphill, and now they paused at some handsome + iron gates. These were opened by a neatly dressed woman, who courtesied to + Mr. Hartrick, and glanced with curiosity at Nora. The carriage bowled + rapidly down a long avenue, and drew up before a front door. A large + mastiff rose slowly, wagged his tail, and sniffed at Nora's dress as she + descended. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, my dear; come in,” said her uncle. “We are too late for dinner, + but I have ordered supper. You will want a good meal and then bed. Where + are all the others? Where are you, Molly? Where are you, Linda? Your Irish + cousin Nora has come.” + </p> + <p> + A door to the left was quickly opened, and a graceful-looking lady, in a + beautiful dress of black silk and quantities of coffee lace, stood on the + threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Nora?” she said. “Welcome, my dear little girl.” She went up to + Nora, laid one hand on her shoulder, and kissed her gravely on the + forehead. There was a staid, sober sort of solemnity about this kiss which + influenced Nora and made a lump come into her throat. + </p> + <p> + This gracious English lady was very charming, and she felt at once that + she would love her. + </p> + <p> + “The child is tired, Grace,” said her husband to Mrs. Hartrick. “Where are + the girls? Why are they not present?” + </p> + <p> + “Molly has been very troublesome, and I was obliged to send her to her + room,” was her reply; “but here is Terence. Terence, your sister has + come.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Terry!” cried Nora. + </p> + <p> + The next moment Terence, in full evening dress, and looking extremely + manly and handsome, appeared upon the scene. Nora forgot everything else + when she saw the familiar face; she ran up to her brother, flung her arms + round his neck, and kissed him over and over. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is a sight for sore eyes to see you!” she cried. “Oh, Terry, how + glad, how glad I am that you are here!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! Nonsense, Nora. Try to remember this is an English house,” + whispered Terence; but he kissed her affectionately. He was glad to see + her, and he looked at her dress with marked approval. “She will soon tame + down, and she looks very pretty,” was his thought. + </p> + <p> + Just then Linda was seen coming downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Has Nora come?” called out her sweet, high-bred voice. “How do you do, + Nora? I am so glad to see you. If you are half as nice as Terence, you + will be a delightful addition to our party.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I am not the least bit like Terence,” said Nora. She felt rather + hurt; she did not know why. + </p> + <p> + Linda was a very fair girl. She could not have been more than fifteen + years of age, and was not so tall as Nora; but she had almost the manners + of a woman of the world, and Nora felt unaccountably shy of her. + </p> + <p> + “Now take your cousin up to her room. Supper will be ready in a quarter of + an hour,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “Come, George; I have something to say to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Hartrick disappeared into the drawing-room. Linda took Nora's + hand. Nora glanced at Terence, who turned on his heel and went away. + </p> + <p> + “See you presently, sis,” he called out in what he considered a very manly + tone; and Nora felt her heart, as she expressed it, sink down into her + boots as she followed Linda up the richly carpeted stairs. Her feet sank + into the velvety pile, and she hated the sensation. + </p> + <p> + “It is all a sort of feather-bed house,” she said to herself, “and I hate + a feather-bed house. Oh, I can understand my dad better than ever + to-night; but how mother would enjoy this!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — “THERE'S MOLLY.” + </h2> + <p> + As they were going upstairs Linda suddenly turned and looked full at her + cousin. + </p> + <p> + “How very grave you are! And why have you that little frown between your + brows? Are you vexed about anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Only I thought Terry would be more glad to see me,” replied Nora. + </p> + <p> + “More glad!” cried Linda. “I saw you hugging him as I ran downstairs. He + let you. I don't know how any one could show gladness more. But come + along; this is your room. It is next to Molly's and mine. Isn't it pretty? + Molly and I chose it for you this morning, and we arranged those flowers. + You will have such a lovely view, and that little peep of the Thames is so + charming. I hope you will like your room.” + </p> + <p> + Nora entered one of the prettiest and most lovely bedrooms she had ever + seen in her life. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined anything so + cozy. The perfectly chosen furniture, the elegant appointments of every + sort and description, the view from the partly opened windows, the view of + winding river and noble trees—all looked rich and cultivated and + lovely; and the Irish girl, as she gazed around, found suddenly a great, + fierce hatred rising up in her heart against what she called the mere + prettiness. She turned and faced Linda, who was watching her with + curiosity in her somewhat small blue eyes Linda was essentially English, + very reserved and quiet, very self-possessed, quite a young lady of the + world. She looked at Nora as if she meant to read her through. + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't you think the view perfect?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been in Ireland?” was Nora's answer. + </p> + <p> + “Never. Oh, dear me! have you anything as pretty as this in Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Nora fiercely—“no.” She left the window, turned back, and + began to unpin her hat. + </p> + <p> + “You look as if you did not care for your room.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very, very pretty room,” said Nora, “and the view is very, very + pretty, but I am tired to-night. I did not know it; but I am. I should + like to go to bed soon.” + </p> + <p> + “So you shall, of course, after you have had supper. Oh, how awfully + thoughtless of me not to know that you must be very tried and hungry! + Molly and I are glad you have come.” + </p> + <p> + “But where is Molly? I should like to see her.” + </p> + <p> + Linda went up to Nora and spoke in a low whisper. + </p> + <p> + “She is in disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “In disgrace? Has she done anything naughty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, fearfully naughty. She is in hot water as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said Nora. She instantly began to feel a strong sensation of + sympathy for Molly. She was sure, in advance, that she would like her. + </p> + <p> + “But is she in such dreadful disgrace that I may not see her?” she asked + after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + Just then there was heard at the room door a gay laugh and a kind of + scamper. A knock followed, but before Nora could answer the door was burst + open, and a large, heavily made, untidy-looking girl, with a dark face and + great big black eyes, bounded into the apartment. + </p> + <p> + “I have burst the bonds, and here I am,” she said. “How do you do, Nora? + I'm Molly. I am always and always in hot water. I like being in hot water. + Now, tell-tale-tit, you can go downstairs and acquaint mother with the + fact that I have burst the bonds, for kiss little Irish Nora I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am glad to see you,” said Nora. Her depression vanished on the + spot. She felt that, naughty as doubtless Molly was, she could get on with + her. + </p> + <p> + “Come, let's take a squint at you,” said the eldest Miss Hartrick; “come + over here to the light.” + </p> + <p> + Molly took Nora by both hands over to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, let's have a category of your charms. Terence has been telling + us that you are very pretty. You are. Come, Linda; come and look at her. + Did you ever see such black hair? And it's as soft as silk.” + </p> + <p> + Molly put up a rather large hand and patted Nora somewhat violently on the + head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't!” said Nora, starting back. + </p> + <p> + “My dear little cousin, I am a very rough specimen, and you must put up + with me if you mean to get on at The Laurels. We are all stiff and staid + here; we are English of the English. Everything is done by rule of thumb—breakfast + to the minute, lunch to the minute, afternoon tea to the minute, dinner to + the minute, even tennis to the minute. Oh! it's detestable; and I—I + am expected to be good, and you know there's not a bit of goodness in me. + I am all fidgets, and you can never be sure of me for two seconds at a + time. I am a worry to mother and a worry to father; and as to Terence—oh, + my dear creature, I am so truly thankful you are not like Terence! Here I + drop a courtesy to his memory. What an awfully precise man he will make by + and by! I did not know you turned out that kind of article in Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + Nora's face, over which many emotions had been flitting, now looked grave. + </p> + <p> + “You know that Terence is my brother?” she said slowly. + </p> + <p> + Molly gazed at her; then she burst into a fit of hearty laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You and I will get on,” she said. “I like you for sticking up for your + brother. But now, my dear, I must go back. I am supposed to stay in my + bedroom until to-morrow morning. Linda, if you tell—well, you'll + have to answer to me when we are going to bed, that's all. By-by, Nora. + I'll see you in the morning. Do get her some hot water, Linda. She's worth + waiting on; she's a very nice sort of child, and very, very pretty. If + that is the Irish sort of face, I for one shall adore it. Good-by, Nora, + for the present.” + </p> + <p> + Molly banged herself away—her mode of exit could scarcely be called + by any other name. As soon as the door had closed behind her Linda + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to tell, you know,” she said in her precise voice; “it is very, + very wrong of Molly to leave her bedroom when mother is punishing her.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has she done wrong?” asked Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, went against discipline. She is at school, you know, and she would + write letters during lessons. It is really very wrong of her, and Miss + Scott had to complain; so mother said she should stay in her room, instead + of being downstairs to welcome you. She is a good soul enough; but we none + of us can discipline her. She is very funny; you'll see a lot of her queer + cranks while you are here.” + </p> + <p> + “How old is she?” asked Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Between sixteen and seventeen; too old to be such a romp.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a little older than I am,” said Nora. “And how old are you, Linda?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen; they all tell me I look more.” + </p> + <p> + “You do; you look eighteen. You are very old for your age.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you for the compliment. Now, then, do brush your hair and wash + your hands; there's the supper-gong. Mother will be annoyed if we are not + down in a jiffy. Now, do be quick.” + </p> + <p> + Nora washed her hands, brushed her hair, and ran downstairs with her + cousin. As she ate during the somewhat stiff meal that followed she + thought many times of Molly. She felt that, naughty as Molly doubtless + was, she would make the English house tolerable. Terence sat near her at + supper, by way of extending to her brotherly attentions; but all the time + he was talking on subjects of local interest to his aunt and uncle. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick evidently thought Terence a very clever fellow, and listened + to his remarks with a deference which Nora thought by no means good for + him. + </p> + <p> + “He wants one of the dear old dad's downright snubs,” was her inward + comment. “I must have a talk with him to-morrow. If he progresses at this + rate toward English refinement he will be unbearable at O'Shanaghgan when + he returns; quite, quite unbearable. Oh, for a sniff of the sea! oh, for + the wild, wild wind on my cheeks! and oh, for my dear, darling, bare + bedroom! I shall be smothered in that heavily furnished room upstairs. Oh, + it is all lovely, I know—very lovely; but I'm not made to enjoy it. + I belong to the free, and I don't feel free here. The silken chains and + the feather-bed life won't suit me; of that I am quite sure. Thank + goodness, however, there's Molly; she is in a state of rebellion, too. I + must not sympathize with her; but I am truly glad she is here.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — BITS OF SLANG. + </h2> + <p> + Early the next morning Nora was awakened from a somewhat heavy sleep by + someone pulling her violently by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Wake up! wake up!” said a voice; and then Nora, who had been dreaming of + her father, and also of Andy Neil, started up, crying as she did so, “Oh, + don't, Andy! I know father will let you stay a little longer in the cot. + Don't, don't, Andy!” + </p> + <p> + “Who, in the name of fortune, is Andy?” called the clear voice of Molly + Hartrick. “Do wake up, Nora, and don't look so dazed. You really are a + most exciting person to have staying in the house. Who is Andy, and what + cot are you going to turn him out of? Is he a baby?” + </p> + <p> + Nora now began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I quite forgot that I was in England,” she said. “Am I really in England? + Are you—are you——Oh, now I remember everything. You are + Molly Hartrick. What is the hour? Is it late? Have I missed breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, child! lie down and keep quiet; it's not more than six + o'clock. I wanted to see some more of you all by myself. I am out of + punishment now; it ended at midnight, and I am as free as anybody else; + but as it is extremely likely I shall be back in punishment by the + evening, I thought we would have a little chat while I was able to have + it. Just make way for me in your bed; I'll nestle up close to you, and + we'll be ever so jolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do,” said Nora, in a hearty tone. + </p> + <p> + Molly scrambled in, taking the lion's share of the bed, Nora lay on the + edge. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you are facing the light, for I can examine your features + well,” said Molly. “You certainly are very nice-looking. How prettily your + eyebrows are arched, and what white teeth you have! And, although you have + that wonderful black hair, you have a fair skin, and your cheeks have just + enough color; not too much. I hate florid people; but you are just + perfect.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would not flatter me, Molly,” said Nora; “nobody flatters me + in Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't? But I thought they were a perfect nation of flatterers. I am + sure it is always said of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you mean the poor people,” said Nora; “they make pretty speeches, + but nobody thinks anything about that. Everybody makes pretty speeches to + everybody else, except when we are having a violent scold by way of a + change.” + </p> + <p> + “How delicious!” said Molly. “And what sort of house have you? Like this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not the least like this,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “With what emphasis you speak. Do you know that father told me you lived + in a beautiful place, a castle hanging over the sea, and that your + mountains and your sea and your old castle were things to be proud of?” + </p> + <p> + “Did he? Did your father really say that?” asked Nora. She sat up on her + elbow; her eyes were shining; they assumed a look which Nora's eyes often + wore when she was, as she expressed it, “seeing things out of her head.” + Far-off castles in the clouds would Nora look at then; rainbow-tinted were + they, and their summits reached heaven. Molly gazed at her with deepening + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nora,” she said; “he did say it. He told me so before Terence came; + but I—do forgive me—I don't care for Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not talk against him to me,” said Nora, “because he happens to + be my brother; but I'll just whisper one thing back to you, Molly—if + he was not my brother he would not suit me.” + </p> + <p> + “How nice of you to say that! We shall get on splendidly. Of course, you + must stick up for him, being your brother; he stuck up for you before you + came. It is very nice and loyal of you, and I quite understand. But, dear + me! I am not likely to see much of you while you are here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Are you not going to stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, yes; I'll stay. School has just begun over again, you know, + and I am always in hot water. I cannot help it; it is a sort of way of + mine. This is the kind of way I live. Breakfast every morning; then a + lecture from mother or from father. Off I go in low spirits, with a great, + sore heart inside me; then comes the hateful discipline of school; and + every day I get into disgrace. I have a lot of lessons returned, and am + low down in my class, instead of high up, and am treated from first to + last as a naughty child. By the middle of the day I am a very naughty + child indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not a child at all, Molly; you are a woman. Why, you are + older than I.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what have years to do with it?” interrupted Molly. “I shall be a + child all my days, I tell you. I shall never be really old. I like + mischief and insubordination, and—and—let me whisper it to + you, little Nora—vulgarity. Yes, I do love to be vulgar. I like + shocking mother; I like shocking father. Since Terence came I have had + rare fun shocking him. I have learned a lot of slang, and whenever I see + Terence I shout it at him. He has got quite nervous lately, and avoids me. + He likes Linda awfully, but he avoids me. But, to go on with my day. I am + back from school to early dinner, generally in disgrace. I am not allowed + to speak at dinner. Back again I go to school, and I am home, or supposed + to be home, at half-past four; but not a bit of it, my dear; I don't get + home till about six, because I am kept in to learn my lessons. It is + disgraceful, of course; but it is a fact. Then back I come, and mother has + a talk with me. However busy mother may be, and she is a very busy woman, + Nora—you will soon find that out—she always has time to find + out if I have done anything naughty; and, as fibs are not any of my + accomplishments, I always tell her the truth; and then what do you think + happens? An evening quite to myself in my bedroom; my dinner sent up to me + there, and I eating it in solitary state. They are all accustomed to it. + They open their eyes and almost glare at me when by a mere chance I do + come down to dinner. They are quite uncomfortable, because, you see, I am + waiting my opportunity to fire slang at one of them. I always do, and + always will. I never could fit into the dull life of the English.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be Irish, really,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “You don't say so! But I am afraid I am not. I would give all the world to + be, but am quite certain I am not. There, now, of course I'd be awfully + scolded if it was found out that I had awakened you at this hour, and had + confided my little history to you. I am over sixteen. I shall be seventeen + in ten months' time. And that is my history, insubordination from first to + last. I don't suppose anybody really likes me, unless it is poor Annie + Jefferson at school.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Annie Jefferson, Molly?” + </p> + <p> + “A very shabby sort of girl, who is always in hot water too. I have taken + to her, and she just adores me. There is no one else who loves me; and + she, poor child, would not be admitted inside these walls; she is not + aristocratic enough. Dear me, Nora! it is wrong of me to give you all this + information so soon; and don't look anxious about me, little goose, for I + have taken an enormous fancy to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you one thing,” said Nora after a pause, “if you will never + tell again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a secret!” said Molly. “Tell it out, Nora. I love secrets. I'll never + betray; I have no friends to betray them to. You may tell me with all the + heart in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is this,” said Nora; “we are not at all rich at home. We are + poor, and have no luxuries and the dear old house is very bare; and, oh! + but, Molly, there is no place like it—no place like it. It's worth + all the world to me; and when I came here last night, and saw your great, + rich, beautiful house, I—I quite hated it, and I almost hated Linda + too; and even my uncle, who has been so kind, I could not get up one + charitable thought for him, nor for your mother, who is such a beautiful, + gracious lady; and even Terence—oh! Terry seemed quite English. Oh, + I was miserable! But when I saw you, Molly, I said to myself, 'There is + one person who will fit me'; and—oh, don't Molly! What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Only, if you say another word I shall squeeze you to death in the hug I + am giving you,” said Molly. Her arms were flung tightly round Nora's neck. + She kissed her passionately three or four times. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be friends. I'll stick up for you through thick and thin,” said + Molly. “And now I'm off; for if Linda caught me woe betide me.” + </p> + <p> + “One word before you go, Molly,” called out Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Molly, standing at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Try to keep straight to-day, for my sake, for I shall want to say a great + deal to you to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, so I will,” answered Molly. “Now then, off I go.” + </p> + <p> + The door was banged behind her. It awoke Mrs. Hartrick, who turned slowly + on her pillow, and said to herself, “I am quite certain that wicked girl + Molly has been disturbing our poor little traveler.” But she fell asleep, + and Nora lay thinking of Molly. How queer she was! And yet—and yet + she was the only person in the English home who had yet managed to touch + Nora's warm Irish heart. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the day passed somewhat soberly. Molly and Linda both started + for school immediately after an early breakfast. Terence went to town with + his uncle, and Nora and her aunt were left alone. She had earnestly hoped + that she might have had one of her first important talks with Mr. Hartrick + before he left that morning; but he evidently had no idea of giving her an + opportunity. He spoke to her kindly, but seemed to regard her already as + quite one of the family, and certainly was not disposed to alter his plans + or put out his business arrangements on her account. She resolved, with a + slightly impatient sigh, to abide her time, and followed her aunt into the + morning-room, where the good lady produced some fancywork, and asked Nora + if she would like to help her to arrange little squares for a large + patchwork quilt which was to be raffled for at a bazar shortly to be held + in the place. + </p> + <p> + Nora gravely took the little bits of colored silk, and, under her aunt's + supervision, began to arrange them in patterns. She was not a neat worker, + and the task was by no means to her taste. + </p> + <p> + “What time ought I to write in order to catch the post?” she said, + breaking the stillness, and raising her lovely eyes to Mrs. Hartrick's + face. + </p> + <p> + “The post goes out many times in the day, Nora; but if you want to catch + the Irish mail, you must have your letter in the box in the hall by + half-past three. There is plenty of time, my dear, and you will find + notepaper and everything you require in the escritoire in the study. You + can always go there if you wish to write your letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “When you are tired of work, you can go out and walk about the grounds. I + will take you for a drive this afternoon. I am sorry that you have arrived + just when the girls have gone back to school; but you and Linda can have a + good deal of fun in the evenings, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “But why not Molly too?” asked Nora. She felt rather alarmed at mentioning + her elder cousin's name. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick did not speak at all for a moment; then she gave a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to have to tell you, Nora, that Molly is by no means a good + girl. She is extremely rebellious and troublesome; and if this state of + things goes on much longer her father and I will be obliged to send her to + a very strict school as a boarder. We do not wish to do that, as my + husband does not approve of boarding-schools for girls. At present she is + spending a good deal of her time in punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope she won't be in punishment to-night,” said Nora. “I like her so + much.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you, my dear? I hope she won't influence you to become insubordinate.” + </p> + <p> + Nora felt restless, and some of the bits of colored silk fluttered to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Be careful, my dear Nora,” said her aunt in a somewhat sharp voice; + “don't let those bits of silk get about on the carpet. I am most + particular that everything in the house should be kept neat and in order. + I will get you a little work-basket to keep your things in when next I go + upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Aunt Grace,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “And now, as we are alone,” continued the good lady, “you might tell me + something of your life. Your uncle is very anxious that your mother should + come and pay us a visit. He is very much attached to his sister, and it + seems to me strange that they should not have met for so many years. You + have a beautiful place at home, Nora—have you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Nora; “the place is”—she paused, and her voice took an + added emphasis—“beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “How emphatically you say it, dear! You have a pretty mode of speech, + although very, very Irish.” + </p> + <p> + “I am Irish, you see, Aunt Grace,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, you need scarcely tell me that; your brogue betrays you.” + </p> + <p> + “But mother was always particular that I should speak correctly,” + continued the girl. “Does my accent offend you, Aunt Grace?” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear; your uncle and I both think it quite charming. But tell me some + more. Of course you are very busy just now with your studies, Nora. A girl + of your age—how old did you say you were—sixteen?—a girl + of your age has not a moment to lose in acquiring those things which are + essential to the education of an accomplished woman of the present day.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I shall shock you very much indeed, Aunt Grace, when I tell + you that my education is supposed to be finished.” + </p> + <p> + “Finished!” said Mrs. Hartrick. She paused for a moment and stared full at + Nora. “I was astonished,” she continued, “when your uncle suggested that + you should pay us a visit now. I said, as September had begun, you would + be going back to school; but you accepted the invitation, or rather your + mother did for you, without any allusion to your school. You must have got + on very well, Nora, to be finished by now. How many languages do you + know?” + </p> + <p> + “I can chatter in Irish after a fashion,” said Nora; “and I am supposed, + after a fashion also, to know my own tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “Irish!” said Mrs. Hartrick in a tone of quivering scorn. “I don't mean + anything of that sort. I allude to your acquaintance with French, German, + and Italian.” + </p> + <p> + “I do know a very little French,” said Nora; “that is, I can read one or + two books in French. Mother taught me what I know; but I do not know any + German or any Italian. I don't see that it matters,” she continued, a + flush coming into her cheeks. “I should never talk German or Italian in + Ireland. I wouldn't be understood if I did.” + </p> + <p> + “That has nothing to do with it, Nora; and your tone, my dear, without + meaning it, of course, was just a shade pert just now. It is essential in + the present day that all well-educated women should be able to speak at + least in three languages.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am sorry, Aunt Grace, for I am afraid you will despise me. I shall + never be well educated in that sense of the word.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick was silent. + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to your uncle,” she said after a pause. “While you are here + you can have lessons. It would be possible to arrange that you went to + school with Linda and Molly, and had French and German lessons while + there.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't expect to be very long in England,” said Nora, a note of + alarm in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear child, now that we have got you, we shall not allow you to go + in a hurry. It is such a nice change for you, too; this is your first + visit to England, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “We won't let you go for some time, little Nora. Your brother is a dear + fellow; your uncle and I admire him immensely, and he is quite well + educated and so adaptable; and I am sure you would be the same, my dear, + when you have had the many chances which will be offered to you here. You + must look upon me as your real aunt, dear, and tell me anything that you + wish. Don't be shy of me, my love; I can quite understand that a young + girl, when she first leaves her mother, is rather shy.” + </p> + <p> + “I never felt shy at home,” answered Nora; “but then, you know, I was more + with father than with mother.” + </p> + <p> + “More with your father! Does he stay at home all day, then?” + </p> + <p> + “He is always about the place; he has nothing else to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he has large estates.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not so very large, Aunt Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear, that is a relative term, of course; but from your uncle's + description, and to judge from your mother's letters, it must be a very + large place. By the way, how does she manage her servants? She must have a + large staff at Castle O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think we manage our servants particularly well,” said Nora. “It + is true they all stay with us; but then we don't keep many.” + </p> + <p> + “How many, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “There's Pegeen—she is the parlor-maid—and there's the cook—we + do change our cook sometimes, for mother is rather particular; then there + is the woman who attends to the fowls, and the woman who does the washing, + and—I think that is about all. Oh, there's the post-boy; perhaps you + would consider him a servant, but I scarcely think he ought to be called + one. We give him twopence a week for fetching the letters. He is a very + good little boy. He stands on his head whenever he sees me; he is very + fond of me, and that is the way he shows his affection. It would make you + laugh, Aunt Grace, if you saw Michael standing on his head.” + </p> + <p> + “It would make me shudder, you mean,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “Really, Nora, + your account of your mother's home is rather disparaging; two or three + very rough servants, and no more. But I understood you lived in castle.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a castle may mean anything; but it is not fair for you and Uncle + George to think we are rich, for we are very poor. And,” continued Nora, + “for my part, I love to be poor.” She stood up abruptly. In her excitement + all her bits of silk tumbled to the floor. “May I go out and have a run, + Aunt Grace?” she said. “I feel quite stiff. I am not accustomed to being + indoors for so long at a time.” + </p> + <p> + “You can go out, Nora, if you like,” said her aunt in a displeased tone; + “but, first, have the goodness to pick up all those bits you have + dropped.” + </p> + <p> + Nora, with flushed cheeks, stooped and picked up the bits of silk. She + wrapped them in a piece of paper and put them on the table. + </p> + <p> + “You can stay out for an hour, my dear; but you are surely not going + without a hat.” + </p> + <p> + “I never wear a hat at home,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “You must run upstairs and fetch your hat,” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + Poor Nora never felt more tried in the whole course of her life. + </p> + <p> + “I shall get as bad as Molly if this goes on,” she thought to herself. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — TWO LETTERS. + </h2> + <p> + “DEAR MOTHER [wrote Nora O'Shanaghgan later on that same morning]: I + arrived safely yesterday. Uncle George met me at Holyhead, and was very + kind indeed. I had a comfortable journey up to town, and Uncle George saw + that I wanted for nothing. When we got to London we drove across the town + to another station, called Waterloo, and took a train on here. A carriage + met us at the station with a pair of beautiful gray horses. They were not + as handsome as Black Bess, but they were very beautiful; and we arrived + here between eight and nine o'clock. This is just the sort of place you + would like, mother; such thick carpets on the stairs, and such large, + spacious, splendidly furnished rooms; and Aunt Grace has meals to the + minute; and they have lots and lots of servants; and my bedroom—oh, + mother! I think you would revel in my bedroom. It has such a terribly + thick carpet on the floor—I mean it has a thick carpet on the floor; + and there is a view from the window, the sort you have so often described + to me—great big trees, and a lawn like velvet, and four or five + tennis-courts, and a shrubbery with all the trees cut so exact and round + and proper, and a peep of the River Thames just beyond. My cousins keep a + boat on the river, and they often go out in the summer evenings. They are + going to take me for a row on Saturday, when the girls have a holiday. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Terence almost immediately after I arrived. He looked just as you + would like to see him, so handsome in his evening dress. He was a little + stiff—at least, I mean he was very correct in his manner. We had + supper when we arrived. I was awfully hungry, but I did not like to eat + too much, for Terence seemed so correct—nice in his manner, I mean—and + everything was just as you have described things when you were young. + There are two girls, my cousins—Linda, a very pretty girl, fair, and + so very neatly dressed; and Molly, who is not the least like the others. + You would not like Molly; she is rather rough; but of course I must not + complain of her. I have been sitting with Aunt Grace all the morning, + until I could bear it no longer—I mean, until I got a little stiff + in my legs, and then I had a run in the garden. Now I am writing this + letter in Aunt Grace's morning-room, and if I look round I shall see her + back. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, dear mother. I will write again in a day or two.—Your + affectionate daughter, + </p> + <p> + “NORA O'SHANAGHGAN.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Nora, under her breath, “that's done. Now for daddy.” + </p> + <p> + She took out another sheet of paper, and began to scribble rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Darling, darling, love of my heart! Daddy, daddy, oh! but it's I that + miss you. I am writing to you here in this could, could country. Oh, + daddy, if I could run to you now, wouldn't I? What are you doing without + your Light o' the Morning? I am pent up, daddy, and I don't think I can + stand it much longer. It's but a tiny visit I'll pay, and then I'll come + back again to the mountains and the sea, and the old, old house, and the + dear, darling dad. Keep up your heart, daddy; you'll soon have Light o' + the Morning home. Oh! it's so proper, and I'm wrapped up in silk chains; + they are surrounding me everywhere, and I can't quite bear it. Aunt Grace + is sitting here; I am writing in her morning-room. Oh! if I could, + wouldn't I scream, or shout, or do something awfully wicked; but I must + not, for it is the English way. They have got the wild bird Nora into the + English cage; and, darling dad asthore, it's her heart that will be broke + if she stays here long. There's one comfort I have—or, bedad! I + don't think I could bear it—and that's Molly. She's a bit of a romp + and a bit of a scamp, and she has a daring spirit of her own, and she + hates the conventionalities, and she would like to be Irish too. She + can't, poor colleen; but she is nice and worth knowing, and she'll just + keep my heart from being broke entirely. + </p> + <p> + “How are they all at home? Give them lashins and lavins of love from Nora. + Tell them it's soon I'll be back with them. You go round and give a + message to each and all; and don't forget Hannah Croneen, and little Mike, + and Bridget Murphy, and Squire Murphy, and the rest—all and every + one who remembers Nora O'Shanaghgan. Tell them it's her heart is + imprisoned till she gets back to them; and she would rather have one bit + of her own native soil than all the gold in the whole of England. I + declare it's rough and wild I am getting, and my heart is bleeding. I have + written a correct letter to mother, and given her the news; but I am + telling you a bit of my true, true heart. Send for me if you miss me too + much, and I'll fly back to you. Oh! it's chains wouldn't keep me, for go I + must if this state of things continues much longer.—Your + </p> + <p> + “LIGHT O' THE MORNING.” + </p> + <p> + The two letters were written, the last one relieving Nora's feelings not a + little. She put them into separate envelopes and stamped them. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick rose, went over to her desk, and saw Nora's letters. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you have written to your parents,” she said. “Quite right, my dear. + But why put them into separate envelopes? They could go nicely in one. + That, really, is willful waste, Nora, which we in England never permit.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, don't change them, Aunt Grace,” said Nora, as Mrs. Hartrick + took the two letters up and paused before opening one of the envelopes. + “Please, please, let them go as they are. It's my own stamp,” she + continued, losing all sense of grammar in her excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, just as you please. There, don't excite yourself, Nora. I + only suggested that, when one stamp would do, it was rather wasteful to + spend two.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, daddy does like to get his own letters to his own self,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Your father, you mean. You don't, surely, call him by the vulgar word + daddy?” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad! but I do,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick turned and gave her niece a frozen glance. Presently she + laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to complain or to lecture you,” she said; “but that + expression must not pass your lips again while you are here.” + </p> + <p> + “It shan't. I am ever so sorry,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are, dear; and how flushed your cheeks are! You seem quite + tired. Now, go upstairs and wash your hands; the luncheon-gong will ring + in five minutes, and we must be punctual at meals.” + </p> + <p> + Nora slowly left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but it's like lead my heart is,” she said to herself. + </p> + <p> + The day passed very dismally for the wild Irish girl. After lunch she and + her aunt had a long and proper drive. They drove through lovely country; + but Nora was feeling even a little bit cross, and could not see the + beauties of the perfectly tilled landscape, of the orderly fields, of the + lovely hedgerows. + </p> + <p> + “It is too tidy,” she said once in a choking sort of voice. + </p> + <p> + “Tidy!” answered Mrs. Hartrick. She looked at Nora, tittered a sigh, and + did not speak of the beauties of the country again. + </p> + <p> + When they got back from their drive things were a little better, for Linda + and Molly had returned from school; and, for a wonder, Molly was not in + disgrace. She looked quite excited, and darting out of the house, took + Nora's hand and pulled it inside her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come and have a talk,” she said. “I am hungering for a chat with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tea will be ready in fifteen minutes, Molly,” called out Mrs. Hartrick, + then entered the house accompanied by Linda. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Molly and Nora went round to the shrubbery at the back of the + house. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” said Molly. She turned and faced her + companion. + </p> + <p> + Nora's eyes filled with sudden tears. + </p> + <p> + “It is only that I am keeping in so much,” she said; “and—and, oh! I + do wish you were not all quite so tidy. I am just mad for somebody to be + wild and unkempt. I feel that I could take down my hair, or tear a rent in + my dress—anything rather than the neatness. Oh! I hate your + landscapes, and your trim hedges, and your trim house, and your—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Molly; “let it out; let it out. I'll never repeat it. You + must come in, in about a quarter of an hour, to a stiff meal. You will + have to sit upright, let me tell you, and not lounge; and you will have to + eat your bread and butter very nicely, and sip your tea, and not eat + overmuch. Mother does not approve of it. Then when tea is over you will + have to leave the room and go upstairs and get things out for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “My things out for dinner?” gasped Nora. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Your evening-dress. Do you suppose you will be allowed to dine in your + morning-dress?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure,” said Nora, brightening; “now I understand. Mother did + get me a white frock, and she had it cut square in the neck, and the + sleeves are a little short.” + </p> + <p> + “You will look sweet in that,” said Molly, gazing at her critically; “and + I will bring you in a bunch of sweet-peas to put in your belt, and you can + have a little bunch in your hair, too, if you like. You know you are + awfully pretty. I am sure Linda is just mad with jealousy about it; I can + see it, although she does not say anything. She is rather disparaging + about you, is Linda; that is one of her dear little ways. She runs people + down with faint praise. She was talking a lot about you as we were going + to school this morning. She began: 'You know, I do think Nora is a pretty + girl; but it is such a pity that—'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't,” said Nora, suddenly putting out her hand and closing Molly's + lips. + </p> + <p> + “What in the world are you doing that for?” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't want to hear; she did not mean me to know that she said + these things.” + </p> + <p> + “What a curiosity you are!” said Molly. “So wild, so defiant, and yet—oh, + of course, I like you awfully. Do you know that the vision of your face + kept me good all day? Isn't that something to be proud of? I didn't answer + one of my teachers back, and I did have a scolding, let me tell you. Oh, + my music; you don't know what I suffer over it. I have not a single + particle of taste. I have not the faintest ghost of an ear; but mother + insists on my learning. I could draw; I could sketch; I can do anything + with my pencil; but that does not suit mother. It must be music. I must + play; I must play well at sight; I must play all sorts of difficult + accompaniments for songs, because gentlemen like to have their songs + accompanied for them; and I must be able to do this the very moment the + music is put before me. And I must not play too loud; I must play just + right, in perfect time; and I must be ready, when there is nothing else + being done, to play long pieces, those smart kind of things people do play + in the present day; and I must never play a wrong note. Oh, dear! oh, + dear! and I simply cannot do these things. I don't know wrong notes from + right. I really don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Molly!” cried Nora. + </p> + <p> + “There you are; I can see that you are musical.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I am, very. I mean I think I should always know a wrong note from + a right one; but I have not had many opportunities of learning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good gracious me! what next?” exclaimed Molly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand what you mean,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I am relieving my feelings, just as you relieved yours a short + time ago. Oh, dear! my music. I know I played atrociously; but that + dreadful Mrs. Elford was so cross; she did thump so herself on the piano, + and told me that my fingers were like sticks. And what could I do? I + longed to let out some of my expressions at her. You must know that I am + feared on account of my expressions—my slang, I call them. They do + shock people so, and it is simply irresistible to see them shudder, and + close their eyes, and draw themselves together, and then majestically walk + out of the room. The headmistress is summoned then, and I—I am + doomed. I get my pieces to do out of school; and when I come home mother + lectures me, and sends me to my bedroom. But I am free to-night. I have + been good all day; and it is on account of you, Nora; just because you are + a little Irish witch; and I sympathize with you to the bottom of my soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Molly! Molly!” here called out Linda's voice; “mother says it's time for + you and Nora to come in to wash your hands for tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go to Jericho!” called out Molly. + </p> + <p> + Linda turned immediately and went into the house. + </p> + <p> + “She is a tell-tale-tit,” said Molly. “She will be sure to repeat that to + mother; and do you think I shall be allowed any cake? There is a very nice + kind of rice-cake which cook makes, and I am particularly fond of it. + You'll see I am not to have any, just because I said 'Go to Jericho!' I am + sure I wish Linda would go.” + </p> + <p> + “But those kind of things are rather vulgar, aren't they?” said Nora. + “Father wouldn't like them. We say all kinds of funny things at home, but + not things like that. I wish you would not.” + </p> + <p> + “You wish I would not what?” + </p> + <p> + “Use words like 'Go to Jericho!' Father would not like to hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a very audacious kind of girl, let me tell you, Nora,” said + Molly. She colored, and looked annoyed for a moment, then burst into a + laugh. “But I like you all the better for not being afraid of me,” she + continued. “Come, let's go into the house; we can relieve our feelings + somehow to-night; we'll have a lark somehow; you mark my words. In the + meantime mum's the word.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — A CHEEKY IRISH GIRL. + </h2> + <p> + At tea the girls were very stiff. Molly and Nora were put as far as + possible asunder. They did not have tea in the drawing room, but in the + dining room, and Mrs. Hartrick presided. There was jam on the table, and + two or three kinds of cake, and, of course, plenty of bread and butter. + </p> + <p> + As Molly had predicted, however, the news of her expression “Go to + Jericho!” had already reached Mrs. Hartrick's ears, and the fiat had gone + forth that she was only to eat bread and butter. It was handed to her, in + a marked way, by her mother, and Linda's light-blue eyes flashed with + pleasure. Nora felt at that moment that she almost hated Linda. She + herself ate resignedly, and without much appetite. Her spirits were down + to zero. It seemed far less likely than it did before she left + O'Shanaghgan that she could help her father out of his scrape. It was + almost impossible to break through these chains of propriety, of neatness, + of order. Would anybody in this trim household care in the very least + whether the old Irishman broke his heart or not? whether he and the Irish + girl had to go forth from the home of their ancestors? whether the wild, + beautiful, rack-rent sort of place was kept in the family or not? + </p> + <p> + “They none of them care,” thought Nora. “I don't believe Uncle George will + do anything; but all the same I have got to ask him. He was nice about my + letter, I will own that; but will he really, really help?” + </p> + <p> + “A penny for your thoughts, Nora, my dear,” said Mrs. Hartrick at this + moment. + </p> + <p> + Nora glanced up with a guilty flush. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I was only thinking,” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, what about?” + </p> + <p> + “About father.” Nora colored as she spoke, and Linda fixed her eyes on her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Very pretty indeed of you, my dear, to think so much of your father,” + said Mrs. Hartrick; “but I cannot help giving you a hint. It is not + considered good manners for a girl to be absent-minded while she is in + public. You are more or less in public now; I am here, and your cousins, + and it is our bounden duty each to try and make the others pleasant, to + add to the enjoyment of the meal by a little graceful conversation. + Absent-mindedness is very dull for others, my dear Nora; so in future try + not to look quite so abstracted.” + </p> + <p> + Nora colored again. Molly, at the other end of the table, bit her lip + furiously, and stretched out her hand to help herself to another thick + piece of bread and butter. In doing so she upset a small milk-jug; a + stream of milk flowed down the tablecloth, and Mrs. Hartrick rose in + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “This is the fourth evening running you have spilt something on the + tablecloth, Molly. Go to your room immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Molly rose, dropped a mocking courtesy to her mother, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Linda dear, run after your sister, and tell her that, for her + impertinence to me, she is to remain in her room until dinner-time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! please forgive her this time; she didn't mean it really,” burst from + Nora's lips. + </p> + <p> + “Nora!” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am sorry for her; please forgive her.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora!” repeated her aunt again. + </p> + <p> + “It is because you do not understand her that she goes on like that; she + is such a fine girl, twice—twice as fine as Linda. Oh, I do wish you + would forgive her!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Linda in a mocking voice. She had got as far as the + door, and had overheard Nora's words. She now glanced at her mother, as + much as to say, “I told you so,” and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Nora had jumped to her feet. She had forgotten prudence; she had forgotten + politeness; her eyes were bright with suppressed fire, and her glib Irish + tongue was eager to enter into the fray. + </p> + <p> + “I must speak out,” she said. “Molly is more like me than anybody else in + this house, and I must take her part. She would be a very, very good girl + if she were understood.” + </p> + <p> + “What are your ideas with regard to understanding Molly?” said Mrs. + Hartrick in that very calm and icy voice which irritated poor Nora almost + past endurance. She was speechless for a moment, struggling with fresh + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I wish——” she began. + </p> + <p> + “And I wish, my dear Nora, that you would remember the politeness due to + your hostess. I also wish that you would consider how very silly you are + when you speak as you are now doing. I do not know what your Irish habits + are; but if it is considered in Ireland rather a virtue than otherwise to + spill a milk jug, and allow the contents to deface the tablecloth, I am + sorry for you, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot understand. I—I am sorry I came,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + She burst into sudden tears, and ran out of the room. In a few moments + Linda came back. + </p> + <p> + “Molly is storming,” she said; “she is in an awful rage.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Linda, and don't tell tales of your sister,” answered Mrs. + Hartrick in an annoyed voice. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, mother!” said Linda; “and where is Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Nora is a very impertinent little girl. She is wild, however, and + unbroken. We must all have patience with her. Poor child! it is terrible + to think that she is your father's niece. What a contrast to dear Terence! + He is a very nice, polite boy. I am sorry for Nora. Of course, as to + Molly, she is quite different. She has always had the advantage of my + bringing-up; whereas poor Nora—well, I must say I am surprised at my + sister-in-law. I did not think your father's sister would have been so + remiss.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing I ought to say,” said Linda. + </p> + <p> + “What is that, dear? Linda, do sit up straight, and don't poke your head.” + </p> + <p> + Linda drew herself up, and looked prettily toward her mother. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish to say?” + </p> + <p> + “It is this. I think Nora will be a very bad companion for Molly. Molly + will be worse than ever that Nora is in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Linda, it is your duty to be a good deal with your cousin. + You are too fond of poking holes in others; you are a little hard upon + your sister Molly. I do not wish to excuse Molly; but it is not your place + as her younger sister to, as it were, rejoice in her many faults.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't, mother,” said Linda, coloring. + </p> + <p> + “Linda dear, I am afraid you do. You must try and break yourself of that + very unchristian habit. But, on the whole, my dear, I am pleased with you. + You are careful to do what I wish; you learn your lessons correctly; I + have good reports of you from your schoolmistresses; and if you are + careful, my dear, you will correct those little habits which mar the + perfect whole.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear mother,” said Linda. “I will try to do what you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “What I particularly want you to do just now is to be gentle and patient + with your cousin; you must remember that she has never had your + advantages. Be with her a good deal; talk to her as nicely as you can; + hint to her what I wish. Of course, if she becomes quite incorrigible, it + will be impossible for me to have her long with you and Molly; but the + child is much to be pitied; she is a very pretty creature, and with a + little care could be made most presentable. I by no means give her up.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear mother, how sweetly Christian-like and forgiving you are!” said + Linda. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush, my dear; hush! I only do my duty; I hope I shall never fail in + that.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick rose from the tea-table, and Linda soon afterward followed + her. Mr. Hartrick was seen coming down the avenue. He generally walked + from the station. He came in now. + </p> + <p> + “What a hot day it is!” he said. “Pour me out a cup of tea, Linda. I am + very thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + He flung himself into an easy chair, and Linda waited on him. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “where are the others? Where is the little Irish witch, + and where is Molly?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to say that Molly is in disgrace, as usual,” said Mrs. + Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, dear!” said Mr. Hartrick; “we ought to send her to school, poor + child! I am sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + “And I intended to give her quite a pleasant evening,” said Mrs. Hartrick, + “in honor of her cousin's arrival. She was in disgrace yesterday when Nora + arrived; and I had thought of giving the girls a delightful evening. I had + it all planned, and was going to ask the Challoners over; but really Molly + is so incorrigible. She was very pert to me, although she did bring a + better report from school; she used some of her objectionable language to + Linda, and was more awkward even than usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the tablecloth, father,” said Linda. + </p> + <p> + “I think, Linda, you had better run out of the room,” said Mr. Hartrick. + He spoke in an annoyed voice. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, father, I will go; but don't you want another cup of tea + first?” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother shall pour it out for me. Go, my dear—go.” + </p> + <p> + “Only, mother, is it necessary that we should not ask the Challoners + because Molly is naughty? The rest of us would like to have them.” + </p> + <p> + “I will let you know presently, Linda,” said her mother; and Linda was + obliged, to her disgust, to leave the room. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, my dear,” said Mr. Hartrick, “I don't at all like to call you + over the coals; but I think it is a pity to speak against Molly so much as + you do in her sister's presence. Linda is getting eaten up with conceit; + she will be an intolerable woman by and by, so self-opinionated, and so + pleased with herself. After all, poor Molly may have the best of it in the + future; she is a fine child, notwithstanding her naughtiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it likely you would take her part, George; and I am sorry,” + answered Mrs. Hartrick in a melancholy tone; “but I am grieved to tell you + that there is something else to follow. That little Irish girl is quite as + cheeky, even more cheeky than Molly. I fear I must ask you to say a word + to her; I shall require her to be respectful to me while she is here. She + spoke very rudely to me just now, simply because I found it my duty to + correct Molly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that won't do at all,” said Mr. Hartrick. “I must speak to Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would do so.” + </p> + <p> + “I will. By the way, Grace, what a pretty creature she is!” + </p> + <p> + “She is a beautiful little wildflower,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “I have taken + a great fancy to her, notwithstanding her rudeness. She has never had the + smallest care; she has simply been allowed to grow up wild.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nature has taken care of her,” said Mr. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, of course; but you yourself know the advantage of bringing up + a girl nicely.” + </p> + <p> + “And no one is more capable of doing that than you are,” said Mr. + Hartrick, giving his wife an admiring glance. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear, for the compliment; but I should be glad if you would + speak to Nora. Now that she is here, I have no doubt that we shall soon + discipline her; and I should like her to pay quite a long visit—that + is, of course, if she becomes conformable to my ways.” + </p> + <p> + “She will be sure to do that, Grace,” replied the husband. “I am glad you + mean to be good to her, and to take her in hand, poor little lass!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought she might have some good masters and get some valuable lessons + while she is here,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “Would you believe it, George?—that + little girl of sixteen calmly informed me that her education was finished. + At the same time, she said she knew no language but her own, and just a + smattering of that dead tongue, Irish. She cannot play; in short, she has + no accomplishments whatever, and yet her education is finished. I must say + I do not understand your sister. I should have thought that she was a + little more like you.” + </p> + <p> + “There never was a more particular girl than Ellen used to be,” said Mr. + Hartrick; “but I must have a long talk with Nora. I'll see her this + evening. I know she has a good deal she wants to talk to me about.” + </p> + <p> + “A good deal she wants to talk to you about, George?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, my dear; but I will explain presently. She is a proud little + witch, and must not be coerced; we must remember that her spirit has never + been broken. But I'll talk to her, I'll talk to her; leave the matter in + my hands, Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, dear; she is your niece, remember.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — TWO DESCRIPTIONS. + </h2> + <p> + Some of Nora's words must have sunk into Mrs. Hartrick's heart, for, + rather to Molly's own astonishment, she was allowed to dress nicely for + dinner, and to come down. Her somewhat heavy, dark face did not look to + the best advantage. She wore a dress which did not suit her; her hair was + awkwardly arranged; there was a scowl on her brow. She felt so sore and + cross, after what she considered her brave efforts to be good during the + morning, that she would almost rather have stayed up in her room. But Nora + would not hear of that. Nora had rushed into Molly's room, and had begged + her, for her sake, to come downstairs. Nora was looking quite charming in + that pretty white frock which Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had purchased for her in + Dublin. Her softly rounded figure, her dazzlingly fair complexion, were + seen now for the first time to the best advantage. Her thick black hair + was coiled up becomingly on her graceful little head, and, with a bunch of + sweet peas at her belt, there could scarcely have been seen a prettier + maiden. When she appeared in the drawing room, even Terence was forced to + admit that he had seldom seen a more lovely girl than his sister. He went + up to her and began to take notice of her. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry I was obliged to be out all day. I am studying the different + museums very exhaustively,” said Terence in that measured tone of his + which drove poor Nora nearly wild. She replied to him somewhat pertly, and + he retired once more into his shell. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty as my sister is,” he soliloquized, “she really is such an ignorant + girl that few fellows would care to speak to her. It is a sad pity.” + </p> + <p> + Terence, the last hope of the house of O'Shanaghgan, was heard to sigh + profoundly. His aunt, Mrs. Hartrick, and his cousin Linda would, + doubtless, sympathize with him. + </p> + <p> + “Dinner was announced, and the meal went off very well. Molly was + absolutely silent; Nora, taking her cue from her, hardly spoke; and Linda, + Terence, and Mrs. Hartrick had it all their own way. But just as dessert + was placed on the table, Mr. Hartrick looked at Nora and motioned to her + to change seats and to come to one close to him. + </p> + <p> + “Come now,” he said, “we should like to hear your account of Castle + O'Shanaghgan. Terence has told us all about it; but we should like to hear + your version.” + </p> + <p> + “And a most lovely place it must be,” said Mrs. Hartrick from the other + end of the table. “Your description, Terence, makes me quite long to see + it; and if it were not that I am honestly very much afraid of the Irish + peasantry, I should be glad to go there during the summer. But those + terrible creatures, with their shillalahs, and their natural aptitude for + firing on you from behind a hedge, are quite too fearful to contemplate. I + could not run the risk of assassination from any of them. They seem to + have a natural hatred for the English and—why, what is the matter, + Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Only it's not true,” said Nora, her eyes flashing. “They are not a bit + like that; they are the most warmhearted people in the whole world. + Terence, have you been telling lies about your country? If you have, I am + downright ashamed of you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have not. I don't know what you mean,” answered Terence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, come, Nora!” said her uncle, patting her arm gently; but Nora's + eyes blazed with fire. + </p> + <p> + “It's not a bit true,” she continued. “How can Aunt Grace think of that? + The poor things have been driven to desperation, because—because + their hearts have been trampled on.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance,” said Terence in a mocking voice, which fell like ice upon + poor Nora's hot, indignant nature—“for instance, Andy Neil—he's + a nice specimen, is he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Nora, “he—he is the exception. Don't talk of him, + please.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just it,” said Terence, laughing. “Nora wants to give us all the + sweets, and to conceal all the bitters. Now, I am honest, whatever I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, are you?” said Nora, in indignation. “I should like to know,” she + continued, “what kind of place you have represented Castle O'Shanaghgan to + be.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know why I should be obliged to answer to you for what I say, + Nora,” cried her brother. + </p> + <p> + “You describe it now, Nora. We will hear your description,” said her + uncle. + </p> + <p> + Nora sat quite still for a moment; then she raised her very dark-blue + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really want me to tell you about O'Shanaghgan?” she said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Nora. I am sure you can describe things very well,” said her + aunt, in an encouraging voice, from the other end of the table. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will tell you,” said Nora. She paused for a moment, then, to the + astonishment and disgust of Mrs. Hartrick, rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot talk about it sitting down,” she said. “There's the sea, you + know—the wild, wild Atlantic. In the winter the breakers are—oh! + I have sometimes seen them forty feet high.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Nora!” said Terence, + </p> + <p> + “It is true, Terry; the times when you don't like to go out.” + </p> + <p> + Terence retired into his shell. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen the waves like that; but, oh! in the summer they can be so + sweet and conoodling.” + </p> + <p> + “What in the world is that?” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is one of our Irish words; there's no other way to express it. And + then there are the cliffs, and the great caves, and the yellow, yellow + sands, and the shells, and the seaweeds, and the fish, and the boating, + and—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Nora; you describe the sea just like any other sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it is like no other sea,” said Nora. “And then there are the + mountains, their feet washed by the waves.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite poetical,” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “It is; it is all poetry,” said Nora. “You are not laughing at me, are + you, Aunt Grace? I wish you could see those mountains and that sea, and + then the home—O'Shanaghgan itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nora; tell us,” said her uncle, who did not laugh, and was much + interested in the girl's description. + </p> + <p> + “The home,” cried Nora; “the great big, darling, empty house.” + </p> + <p> + “Empty! What a very peculiar description!” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is so nice,” said Nora. “You don't knock over furniture when you + walk about; and the dining-room table is so big that, even if you did + spill a jug of milk, father would not be angry.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick uttered a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we are wild over there,” continued Nora; “we have no + conventionalities. We share and share alike; we don't mind whether we are + rich or poor. We are poor—oh! frightfully poor; and we keep very few + servants; and—and the place is bare; because it can be nothing but + bare; but there's no place like O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you mean by bare?” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Bare?” said Nora. “I mean bare; very few carpets and very little + furniture, and—and——But, oh! it's the hearts that are + warm, and that is the only thing that matters.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be a right-down jolly place; and, by Jehoshaphat! I wish I was + there,” interrupted Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Molly!” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, leave her alone for the present,” said Mr. Hartrick. “But do you + mean,” he continued, looking at Nora in a distressed way, “that—that + my sister lives in a house of that sort?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother?” said Nora. “Of course; she is father's wife, and my mother; she + is the lady of O'Shanaghgan. It is a very proud position. We don't want + grand furniture nor carpets to make it a proud position. She is father's + wife, and he is O'Shanaghgan of Castle O'Shanaghgan. He is a sort of king, + and he is descended from kings.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Terence, I must say this does not at all coincide with your + description,” said his uncle, turning and looking his nephew full in the + face. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't wish to make things too bad, sir. Of course, we are not very + rich over there; but still, Nora does exaggerate.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Nora,” said her uncle, suddenly turning and pulling her down + to sit beside him, “you and I must have a little chat. We will just go and + have it right away. You shall tell me your version of the story quite by + ourselves.” He then rose and drew her out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we go?” he said when they stood for a moment in the + conservatory, into which the big dining room opened. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean it?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Mean what, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “To talk to me about—about my letter? Do you mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do, and there is no time like the present. Come—where + shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + “Where we can be alone; where none of the prim English can interrupt.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora, you must not be so prejudiced. We are not so bad as all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know it. I wish you were bad; it's because you are so awfully good + that I hate—I mean, that I cannot get on with any of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child! you are a little wild creature. Come into my study; we shall + be quite safe from interruption there.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — A COMPACT. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick, still holding Nora's hand, took her down a corridor, and the + next moment they found themselves in a large room, with oak bookcases and + lined with oak throughout; but it was a stately sort of apartment, and it + oppressed the girl as much as the rest of the house had done. + </p> + <p> + “I had thought,” she murmured inwardly, “that his study would be a little + bare. I cannot think how he can stand such closeness, so much furniture.” + She sighed as the thought came to her. + </p> + <p> + “More and more sighs, my little Irish girl,” said Mr. Hartrick. “Why, what + is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot breathe; but I'll soon get accustomed to it,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Cannot breathe? Are you subject to asthma, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no; but there is so much furniture, and I am accustomed to so + little.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Nora; but now you must pull yourself together, and try to be + broad-minded enough to take us English folk as we are. We are not wild; we + are civilized. Our houses are not bare; but I presume you must consider + them comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said Nora; “yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you dislike comfortable houses?” + </p> + <p> + “Hate them!” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, dear child!” + </p> + <p> + “You would if you were me—wouldn't you, Uncle George?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose if I were you I should feel as you do, Nora. I must honestly + say I am very thankful I am not you.” + </p> + <p> + Nora did not reply at all to that. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, at home now,” she said, “the moon is getting up, and it is making a + path of silver on the waves, and it is touching the head of Slieve + Nagorna. The dear old Slieve generally keeps his snow nightcap on, and I + dare say he has it by now. In very hot weather, sometimes, it melts and + disappears; but probably he has got his first coat of snow by now, just on + his very top, you know. Then, when the moon shines on it and then on the + water—why, don't you think, Uncle George, you would rather look at + Slieve Nagorna, with the snow on him and the moon touching his forehead, + and the path of silver on the water, than—than be just comfortable?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why I should not have both,” said Mr. Hartrick after a pause; + “the silver path on the water and the grand look of Slieve Nagorna (I can + quite fancy what he is like from your description, Nora), and also have a + house nicely furnished, and good things to eat, and——. But I + see we are at daggers drawn, my dear niece. Now, please tell me what your + letter means.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really want me to tell you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why I have really come here?” + </p> + <p> + “You said something in your letter; but you did not explain yourself very + clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “I came here,” said Nora, “for a short visit. I want to go back again + soon. Time is flying. Already a month of the three months is over. In two + months' time the blow will fall unless—unless you, Uncle George, + avert it.” + </p> + <p> + “The blow, dear? What blow?” + </p> + <p> + “They are going,” said Nora—she held out both her hands—“the + place, the sea, the mountains, the home of our ancestors, they are going + unless—unless you help us, Uncle George.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Nora, you are very melodramatic; you must try and talk plain + English. Do you mean to say that Castle O'Shanaghgan—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it,” said Nora; “it is mortgaged. I don't quite know what + mortgaged means, but it is something very bad; and unless father can get a + great deal of money—I don't know how much, but a good deal—before + two months are up, the man to whom Castle O'Shanaghgan is mortgaged will + take possession of it. He is a horrid Englishman; but he will go there, + and he will turn father out, and mother out, and me—oh, Terence + doesn't matter. Terence never was an Irishman—never, never; but he + will turn us out. We will go away. Oh, it does not greatly matter for me, + because I am young; and it does not greatly matter for mother, because she + is an English woman. Oh, yes, Uncle George, she is just like you—she + likes comfort; she likes richly furnished rooms; but she is my mother, and + of course I love her; she will stand it, for she will think perhaps we + will come here to this country. But it is father I am thinking of, the old + lion, the old king, the dear, grand old father. He won't understand, he'll + be so puzzled. No other place will suit him; he won't say a word; it's not + the way of the O'Shanaghgans to grumble. He won't utter a word; he will go + away, and he will—die. His heart will be broken; he will die.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora, my dear child!” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Nora. Her face was ghastly white; her words came out in + broken sobs. “I see him, Uncle George; every night I see him, with his + bowed head, and his broken heart, and his steps getting slower and slower. + He'll be so puzzled, for he is such a true Irishman, Uncle George. You + don't know what we are—happy one day, miserable the next. He thinks + somehow, somehow, that the money will be paid. But, oh, Uncle George!—I + suppose I have got a little bit of the English in me after all—I + know it will not be paid, that no one will lend it to him, not any of his + old friends and cronies; and he will have to go, and it will break his + heart, unless, unless you help him. I thought of you; I guessed you must + be rich. I see now that you are very rich. Oh, how rich!—rich enough + for carriages, and thick carpets, and easy-chairs, and tables, and grand + dresses, and—and all those sort of things; and you will help—won't + you? Please, do! please, do! You'll be so glad some day that you helped + the old king, and saved him from dying of a broken heart. Please, help + him, Uncle George.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear little girl!” said Mr. Hartrick. He was really affected by Nora's + speech; it was wild; it was unconventional; there was a great deal of + false sentiment about it; but the child herself was true, and her eyes + were beautiful, and she looked graceful, and young, and full of passion, + almost primeval passion, as she stood there before him. Then she believed + in him. If she did not believe in anyone else in the house, she believed + in him. She thought that if she asked him he would help. + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me,” he said after a pause, “does your mother know what you + have come here for?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother? Certainly not; I told you in my letter that you must not breathe + a word of it to mother; and father does not know. No one knows but I—Nora, + I myself.” + </p> + <p> + “This has been completely your own idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Completely.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a brave girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know about being brave. I had to do something. If you + belonged to Patrick O'Shanaghgan you would do something for him too. Have + you ever seen him, Uncle George?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at the time of my sister's wedding, but not since.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “He was as handsome a fellow as I ever laid eyes on, and Irish through and + through.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. What else would he be?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen him since. My sister, poor Ellen, she was a beautiful + girl when she was young, Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “She is stately, like a queen,” said Nora. “We all admire her very, very + much.” + </p> + <p> + “And love her, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, of course I love mother.” + </p> + <p> + “But not as well as your father?” + </p> + <p> + “You could not, Uncle George, if you knew father.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall not ask any more. You really do want me to help?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can; if it will not cost you too much money.” + </p> + <p> + “And you mean that your father is absolutely, downright poor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I suppose so. I don't think that matters a bit. We wouldn't like to + be rich, neither father nor I; but we do want to keep O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Even without carpets and chairs and tables?” said Mr. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “We don't care about carpets and chairs and tables,” said Nora. “We want + to keep O'Shanaghgan, the place where father was born and I was born.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, look here, Nora. I can make you no promises just now; but I respect + you, my dear, and I will certainly do something—what I cannot + possibly tell you, for I must look into this matter for myself. But I will + do this: I will go to O'Shanaghgan this week and see my sister, and find + out from the Squire what really is wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “You will?” said Nora. She thought quickly. Her father would hate it; but, + after all, it was the only chance. Even she had sufficient common sense to + know that Mr. Hartrick could not help unless he went to the old place. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you will do it when you see it,” she said, with sudden rapture. “And + you'll take me home with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think not, Nora. Now that you are here you must stay. I am fond + of you, my little girl, although I know very little about you; but I do + think that you have very mistaken ideas. I want you to love your English + cousins for your mother's sake, and to love their home for your mother's + sake also; and I should like you to have a few lessons, and to take some + hints from your Aunt Grace, for you are wild, and need training. If I go + to O'Shanaghgan for you, will you stay at The Laurels for me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do anything, anything for you, if you save father,” said Nora. She + fell on her knees before her uncle could prevent her, took his hand, and + kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is a compact,” said Mr. Hartrick; “but remember I only promise to + go. I cannot make any promises to help your father until I have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — SHE WILL SOON TAME DOWN. + </h2> + <p> + “I am going to Ireland to-morrow, Grace,” said Mr. Hartrick to his wife + that evening. + </p> + <p> + “To Ireland!” she cried. “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to see my sister Ellen. I feel that I have neglected her too long. + I shall run over to O'Shanaghgan, and stay there for two or three nights.” + </p> + <p> + “Why are you doing this, George?” said Mrs. Hartrick very slowly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick was silent for a moment; then he said gravely: + </p> + <p> + “I have heard bad news from that child.” + </p> + <p> + “From Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, from Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “But Terence has never given us bad news.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence is not a patch upon Nora, my dear Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “There I cannot agree with you. I infinitely prefer Terence to Nora,” was + Mrs. Hartrick's calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought you admired the child.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I admire what the child may become,” was the cautious answer. “I + cannot admire a perfectly wild girl, who has no idea of self-discipline or + self-restraint. And remember one thing, George: whatever she says to you, + you must take, to use a vulgarism, with a grain of salt. An Irish girl + cannot help exaggerating. She has doubtless exaggerated the condition of + things.” + </p> + <p> + “I only pray God she has,” was Mr. Hartrick's reply. + </p> + <p> + “If things are even half as bad as she represents them, it is high time + that I should pay my sister a visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? What does she say?” + </p> + <p> + “She has given me a picture of the state of affairs at that house which + wrings my heart, Grace. To think that my beautiful sister Ellen should be + subjected to such discomforts, to such miseries, is intolerable. I intend + to go to O'Shanaghgan to-morrow, and will see how matters are for myself.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick was again silent for a moment or two; then she said gravely: + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless you are right to do this; but I hope, while you are away, you + will do nothing rash.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that, from the little I have seen of Nora, she is a very impetuous + creature, and has tried perhaps to wring a promise from you.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you quite simply what she has said, Grace, and then you will + understand. She says her father has mortgaged the Castle evidently up to + the hilt. The mortgagees will foreclose in a couple of months, unless + money can be found to buy them off. Now, it has just occurred to me that I + might buy Castle O'Shanaghgan for ourselves as a sort of summer residence, + put it in order, and allow Patrick O'Shanaghgan to live there, and my + sister. By and by the place can go to Terence, as we have no son of our + own. I have plenty of money. What do you think of this suggestion, Grace?” + </p> + <p> + “It might not be a bad one,” said Mrs. Hartrick; “but I could not possibly + go to a place of that sort unless it were put into proper repair.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, I believe, in reality a fine old place, and the grounds are + beautiful,” said Mr. Hartrick. “A few thousand pounds would put it into + order, and we could furnish it from Dublin. You could have a great many + guests there, and—” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the O'Shanaghgans themselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps they would go somewhere else for the couple of months we + should need to occupy the house during the summer. Anyhow, I feel that I + must do something for Ellen's sake; but I will let you know more after I + have been there.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick asked a few more questions. After a time she said: + </p> + <p> + “Is Nora to remain here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I was going to speak to you about that. It is a sad pity that so + pretty a girl should grow up wild. We had better keep her with us for the + next two or three years. She will soon tame down and learn our English + habits; then, with her undeniable Irish charm and great beauty, she will + be able to do something with her life.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be quite pleased to have her,” said Mrs. Hartrick in a cordial + tone. “I like training young girls, and Nora is the sort who would do me + credit if she really were willing to take pains.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure she will be; she is an honest little soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see you are bewitched by her.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not bewitched; but I admire honesty and candor, and the child has got + both.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” said Mrs. Hartrick, “if it is arranged that Nora is to stay + here, I will go and see Miss Flowers at Linda's and Molly's school + to-morrow, and ask if Nora can be admitted as a pupil. There is no use in + losing time, and she may as well start her lessons next week. By all + means, George, go and do your best for the poor things. Of course your + sister ought not to be allowed to be in money difficulties.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not,” said Mr. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + The next day Mr. Hartrick bade Nora and his own family good-by, and + started on his expedition to Ireland. Nora was quivering with impatience. + When she had seen the last of him she turned back into the house, and was + there met by her brother Terence. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Nora. I want to speak to you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She followed him into the nearest room. He closed the door behind them. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask what you have been saying to Uncle George?” + </p> + <p> + “You may ask, of course, Terry; but I don't mean to tell you,” answered + Nora. + </p> + <p> + “It is because of you he is going to Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + “It is because of something I have said.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you think our mother will like it? You know how proud she is; how + all these years she has determined to put a good face on things, and not + to allow her relations in England to know the truth. I have followed her + cue, and have been careful to make the very best of things at Castle + O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is easy to tell lies,” said Nora, with scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Nora, you talk in a very silly way, and I often have no patience with + you,” answered her brother. “If I have regard to my mother's feelings, why + should you despise me? You are supposed to consider our father's + feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very different; the whole thing is different,” said Nora. She + flushed, bit her lip, and then turned away. + </p> + <p> + “You must hear me,” said Terence, looking at her with some impatience; + “you must, you shall. You are quite intolerable with your conceit and your + silly, silly Irish ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on. What have you to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “That I think you were guilty of dishonor in talking as you did at dinner + last night. You spoke of the place and the poverty in a way which quite + put me to the blush. I hope in future, while you are here, you will cease + to run the O'Shanaghgans down. It is not worthy of you, Nora, and I am + ashamed of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Run them down—I?” said poor Nora in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment; she was making a great effort to recover her + equanimity. Was Terence right? Had she done wrong to speak before her aunt + and cousins as she had done? Of course her uncle was different; it was + absolutely necessary that he at least should know the truth. A distressful + sense of dismay at her own impetuosity came over her. Terence watched her + narrowly. He was fond of Nora in his heart of hearts, and also proud of + her; and now that he saw she was really sorry he went up to her, put his + arm round her neck, and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, little girl,” he said, “you are young. Try to be guided by me + in future, and do not give yourself away. We Irish wear our hearts on our + sleeves, and that sort of thing does not go down in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how I hate this cold England!” said the Irish girl, with passion. + </p> + <p> + “There you are again, all your feelings expressed too broadly. You will + never endure life if you go on as you have begun, Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence,” said Nora, looking up at him, “when are you going home?” + </p> + <p> + “When am I going home? Thank you, I am very comfortable here.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think that just at present, when father is in trouble, his only + son, the heir of O'Shanaghgan, ought to be with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old O'Shanaghgan,” said the lad, with impatience; “you think that it + comprises the whole of the world. I tell you what it is, Nora, I am made + differently, and I infinitely prefer England. My uncle has been kind + enough to offer me a small post in his business. Did I not tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I never knew what my uncle's business was.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a merchant prince, Nora; an enormously rich man. He owns warehouses + upon warehouses. He has offered me a post in one—a very good post, + and a certain income.” + </p> + <p> + “And you mean to accept?” said Nora, her eyes flashing fire. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am writing to mother on the subject. I think it would be well to + do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You, an O'Shanaghgan, will descend to trade?” replied the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, folly! folly! Nora, your ideas are really too antiquated.” + </p> + <p> + Nora did not speak at all for a moment; then she walked toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand you,” she said. “I am awfully sorry. I was born + different; I was made different. I cannot understand why you should bring + dishonor to the old place.” + </p> + <p> + “By earning a little money to keep us all from beggary,” retorted the lad + in a bitter tone; but Nora did not hear him; she had left the room. Her + eyes were smarting with unshed tears. She went out into the shrubbery in + search of Molly. + </p> + <p> + “But for Molly I should break my heart,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — STEPHANOTIE. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick made all necessary arrangements, and on the following Monday + Nora accompanied her cousin to school. Molly was much delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Now I shall be able to work,” she said, “and I won't be guilty of slang + when you are by. Don't whisper it to Linda. She would be in the seventh + heaven of bliss, and I detest pleasing her; but I would do anything in the + world for you, Nora creena.” + </p> + <p> + Nora gave her cousin's arm an affectionate squeeze. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been to school,” said Nora; “you must instruct me what I am + to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, dear!” said Molly, “you won't need instruction; you are as + sharp and smart as any girl could be. You'll be a little puzzled at first + about the different classes, and I'll give you hints about how to take + notes and all that sort of thing. But you will quickly get into the way of + it, and then you'll learn like a house on fire.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you two wouldn't whisper together so much,” said Linda in an + annoyed voice. “I am going over my French parsing to myself, and you do + interrupt me so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then walk a little farther away from us,” said Molly rudely. + </p> + <p> + She turned once more to her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “I will introduce you to the very nicest girls in my form,” she said. “I + do hope you'll be put into my form, for then in the evenings you and I can + do our work together. I expect you know about as much as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “But that's just it—I don't,” said Nora. “I have not learned a bit + in the school way. I had a governess for a time, but she did not know a + great deal. Of course mother taught me too; but I have not had advantages. + I should not be surprised if I were put into the lowest form.” + </p> + <p> + They now arrived at the school, and a few minutes later Nora found herself + in a huge classroom in which about sixty other girls were assembled. Miss + Flowers presently sent a pupil-teacher to ask Miss O'Shanaghgan to have an + interview with her in her private room. + </p> + <p> + Miss Flowers was about fifty years of age. She had white hair, calm, + large, well-opened blue eyes, a steadfast mouth, and a gracious and at the + same time dignified manner. She was not exactly beautiful; but she had the + sort of face which most girls respected and which many loved. Nora looked + earnestly at her, and in her wild, impulsive Irish fashion, gave her heart + on the spot. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, my dear?” said the head-mistress kindly. + </p> + <p> + Nora told it. + </p> + <p> + “You are Irish, Mrs. Hartrick tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Flowers, I have lived all my life in Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “I must find out what sort of instruction you have had. Have you ever been + at school before?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sixteen, Miss Flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “What things have you been taught?” + </p> + <p> + “English subjects of different sorts,” replied Nora. “A little music—oh, + I love music, I do love music!—and a little French; and I can speak + Irish,” she added, raising her beautiful, dark-blue eyes, and fixing them + on the face of the head-mistress. That winsome face touched Miss Flowers' + heart. + </p> + <p> + “I will do what I can for you,” she said. “For the present you had better + study alone. At the end of a week or so I shall be able to determine what + form to put you in. Now, go back to the schoolroom and ask Miss Goring to + come to me.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Goring was the English mistress. Miss Flowers saw her alone for a + minute or two. + </p> + <p> + “Do what you can for the Irish girl,” she said. “She is a very pretty + creature; she is evidently ignorant; but I think she has plenty of + talent.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Goring went back, and during the rest of the morning devoted herself + to Nora. Nora had varied and strange acquirements at her finger's ends. + She was up in all sorts of folk lore; she could clothe her speech in + picturesque and striking language. She could repeat poetry from Sir Walter + Scott, from Shakspere, from the old Irish bards themselves; but her + grammar was defective, although her reading aloud was very pretty and + sweet. Her knowledge of history was vague, and might be best described by + the expression, up and down. She knew all about the Waldenses; she had a + vivid picture in her mind's eye of St. Bartholomew's Eve. The French + Revolution appalled and, at the same time, attracted her. The death of + Charles I. drew tears from her eyes; but she knew nothing whatever of the + chronological arrangements of history; and the youngest girl in the school + could have put her to shame with regard to the Magna Charta. It was just + the same with every branch of knowledge which Nora had even a smattering + of. + </p> + <p> + At last the great test of all came—could she play or could she not? + She had spoken often of her passionate love for music. Miss Goring took + her into the drawing room, away from the other girls. + </p> + <p> + “I am not supposed to be musical,” she said, “but I think I know music + when I hear it. If you have talent, you shall have plenty of advantages + here. Now, sit down and play something for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What! At that piano?” said Nora, her eyes sparkling. Miss Goring had + opened a magnificent Broadwood grand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “It is rather daring of me to bring you here; but I want + you to have fair play.” + </p> + <p> + “I never played on a really good piano in my life,” said Nora. “May I + venture?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I do not believe you will injure it.” + </p> + <p> + “May I play as loud as I like, and as soft as I like?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. You may play exactly as you please; only play with all your + heart. You will be taught scientific music doubtless; but I want to know + what you can do without education, at present.” + </p> + <p> + Nora sat down. At first she felt a little shy, and all her surroundings + were so strange, the piano was so big; she touched it with her small, + taper fingers, and it seemed to her that the deep, soft notes were going + to overpower her. Then she looked at Miss Goring and felt uncomfortable; + but she touched the notes again, and she began to forget the room, and + Miss Goring, and the grand piano; and the soul of music stood in her eyes + and touched the tips of her fingers. The music was quite unclassical, + quite unconventional; but it was music—a wild kind of wailing chant—the + notes of the Banshee itself. Nora played on, and the tears filled her eyes + and streamed down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it hurts so!” she said at last, and she looked full up at Miss + Goring. Behold, the cold, gray eyes of the English teacher were also full + of tears. + </p> + <p> + “You terrify me,” she said. “Where did you hear anything like that?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the wail of the Banshee. Shall I play any more?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more so eerie.” + </p> + <p> + “Then may I sing for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you sing?” + </p> + <p> + “I was never taught; but I think I can sing.” Nora struck a few chords + again. She sang the pathetic words, “She is Far from the Land,” and Miss + Goring felt the tears filling her eyes once more. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word!” she said, as she led her pupil back to the schoolroom, + “you can play and you can sing; you have music in you. It would be worth + while to give you good lessons.” + </p> + <p> + Nora's musical education was now taken up with vigor. Miss Goring spoke to + Miss Flowers about it, and Miss Flowers communicated with Mrs. Hartrick; + and Mrs. Hartrick was extremely pleased to find that she had a musical + genius in her midst, and determined to give that same musical genius every + chance. Accordingly, the very best master in the school arranged to give + Nora lessons, and a mistress of striking ability took her also in hand. + Nora's wild music, the music that came from her heart, and the song that + bubbled from her lips, were absolutely silenced. She must not sing at + will; she must on no account play at will. The dullest of exercises were + given to her for the purpose of molding her fingers, and the dullest of + voice exercises were also given to her for the purpose of molding her + voice. She struggled against the discipline, and hated it. She was + essentially a child of nature, and this first putting on of the chains of + education was the reverse of pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Molly,” she said, “what is the good of singing those hateful, + screaming exercises, and those scales? They are too detestable, and those + little twists and turns. My fingers absolutely feel quite nervous. What is + the use? What is the use?” + </p> + <p> + Molly also sighed and said, “What is the use?” But then the musical + mistress and the great master looked at Nora all over when she made + similar remarks, and would not even vouchsafe to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Father would never be soothed with that sort of music,” she said. “I + think he would be very glad we had not a good piano. Oh, Molly, what does + it all mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Molly. “It's like all other education, nothing but + grind, grind; but I suppose something will come of it in the long run.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about, girls?” said Mrs. Hartrick, who just then + appeared upon the scene. “Nora, I am pleased; to get very good reports of + your music.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Nora, “I am glad you have come, Aunt Grace; and I shall be able + to speak to you. Must I learn what takes all the music out of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Silly child. There is only one road to a sound musical education, and + that is the road of toil. At present you play by ear, and sing by ear. You + have talent; but it must be cultivated. Just believe that your elders know + what they are about.” + </p> + <p> + Nora did not say anything. Mrs. Hartrick, after looking at her gravely for + a moment, continued her gentle walk round the shrubbery. Molly uttered a + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “There's no good, Nora,” she said. “You'll have to go through with it. I + suppose it is the only way; but it's hard to believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at any rate, I enjoy other things in my school life,” said Nora. + “Miss Goring is so nice, and I quite love Miss Flowers; and, after all, I + am in your form, Molly, and we do like doing our lessons together.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure we do; life is quite a different thing for me since you have + come here,” was Molly's retort. + </p> + <p> + “And you have been very good indeed about your naughty words, you know,” + said Nora, nestling up to her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “Have I? Well, it's owing to you. You see, now, I have someone to help me—someone + to understand me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Nora; “but I won't be here very long.” + </p> + <p> + “Not here very long! Why, you must. What is the use of beginning school + and then stopping it?” + </p> + <p> + “School or no school, my place is by father's side. It is a long, long + time since we heard from Uncle George. As soon as ever he comes back I + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Father has been a whole month in Ireland now,” said Molly. “I cannot + imagine what he is doing. I think mother fidgets rather. She has very long + letters from him, and——” + </p> + <p> + “And, do you know,” said Nora, “that father has not written to me once—no, + not once since Uncle George went over? I am absolutely in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you stand it,” said Molly. “You are so impetuous. I cannot + imagine why you don't fly back.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Could not? What is there to hinder you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have given my word.” + </p> + <p> + “Your word? To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “To your father. He went to Ireland to please me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did he? That's exciting,” said Molly. “Father went to Ireland to + please a little chit like you. Now, what does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It means exactly what I have said. He went because I begged him to; + because I explained things to him, and he said he would go. But he made a + condition, and I am bound to stick to my part of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And that was——How your eyes shine, Nora!” + </p> + <p> + “That was, that I am to stay patiently here, and get as English as ever I + can. Oh! I must stick to my part of the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I cannot say you look very happy,” said Molly, “although you are + such a favorite at the school. If I was not very fond of you myself I + should be jealous. If I had a friend whom I really worshiped, before you + appeared on the scene, it was Stephanotie Miller, the American girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, isn't she charming?” said Nora. “She makes me laugh. I am sure she + has Irish blood in her.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it; she's a Yankee of the Yankees.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she has been sent to school to get tame, just as I have been,” said + Nora; “but I don't want you to lose her friendship. After all, I care very + little for anyone in the school but you, Molly; only Stephanotie makes me + laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll have her to tea tomorrow. I'll run in now and ask mother. I shan't + mind a bit if you are not going quite to take her from me. After all, she + can be friends with both of us. I'll run into the house this moment, and + ask mother if we may have Stephanotie to tea.” + </p> + <p> + Molly rushed into the house. Her mother was seated in the morning room, + busily writing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, well?” she said. “I hear you—you need not bang the + door. What is it, Molly?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother! do look up and listen.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick raised her head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I have behaved a great deal better lately—have I not, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly have, Molly; and I am pleased with you. If you would + restrain some of your impetuosity, I should be glad to tell you how + pleased I am.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all owing to Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “To Nora, my dear! Nora is as wild as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, it is owing to Nora; and she is not as wild as I am. I mean + that I have been downright vulgar; but if you think there is one trace of + that in little Nora, it is because you do not know her a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your special request, Molly? I am very busy just now, and cannot + discuss your cousin's character. You have improved, and I am pleased with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you are pleased with me, mother, will you do me a favor?” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Stephanotie Miller has never been at our house.” + </p> + <p> + “Stephanotie Miller. What an outlandish name! Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “She is a dear, jolly, sweet, handsome American girl. She came to school + last term, and she is in the same form with Nora and me; and we both adore + her, yes we do. Whatever she does, and whatever she says, we think simply + perfection; and we want to ask her here. She is staying with a rather + tiresome aunt, in a little house in the village, and she has come over to + be Englishized. May she have tea with us tomorrow?” + </p> + <p> + “I will inquire about her from Miss Flowers; and if she seems to be a nice + girl I shall have no objection.” + </p> + <p> + “But we want her to come tomorrow,” said Molly. “It is Saturday, you know, + and a whole holiday. We thought she might come to lunch, or, if you + objected to that, immediately after lunch.” + </p> + <p> + “And what about Linda? Does Linda like her?” + </p> + <p> + “Holy Moses, no!” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Molly!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother! do forgive me, and don't say she mustn't come because I said + 'Holy Moses.' It's all Linda; she excites the vulgar in me always. But may + Stephie come, mother? You are always having Linda's friends here.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not be reproved by you, Molly.” + </p> + <p> + “But, please, dear mother, let her come. Nora and I want her so badly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear, I will try and see Miss Flowers tomorrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you judge of her for yourself, mother? There never was a better + judge than you are.” + </p> + <p> + This judicious flattery had its effect on Mrs. Hartrick, She sat quite + still for a moment, pondering. After all, to be a pupil at Mrs. Flowers' + school was in itself a certificate of respectability, and Molly had been + very good lately—that is, for her; and if she and Nora wanted a + special friend to spend the afternoon with them, it would be possible for + Mrs. Hartrick quickly to decide whether the invitation was to be repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said, looking at her daughter, “for this once you may + have her; and as you have wisely expressed it, Molly, I can judge for + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, thank you, mother!” + </p> + <p> + Molly rushed out of the room. She was flying headlong down the passage, + when she came plump up against Linda. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what is up?” said that young person. “Really, Molly!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hurrah! I have won my way for once,” said Molly. “Stephanotie is + coming tomorrow to spend the whole afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Stephanotie—that horrid Yankee?” said Linda. + </p> + <p> + “Horrid Yankee yourself!” was Molly's vulgar retort. + </p> + <p> + “But she cannot come. I have asked Mabel and Rose Armitage, and you know + they cannot stand Stephanotie.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you, and your Mabel and Rose, can keep away from Stephanotie—that's + all,” said Molly. “Anyhow, she is coming. Don't keep me. I must tell + Nora.” + </p> + <p> + Linda made way for her sister to fly past her, as she afterward expressed + it, like a whirlwind. She stood still for a moment in deep consideration. + Stephanotie was a daring, bright, go-ahead young person, and had she ever + taken, in the very least, to Linda, Linda would have worshiped her. + Stephanotie was extremely rich, and the bouquets she brought to school, + and the bon-bons she kept in her pocket, and the pretty trinkets she wore, + and the dresses she exhibited had fascinated Linda more than once. For, + rich as the Hartricks were, Mrs. Hartrick had far too good taste to allow + her daughters more pocket-money, or more trinkets, or more bon-bons than + their companions. Linda, in her heart of hearts, had greatly rebelled + against her mother's rule in this particular, and had envied Stephanotie + what she called her free life. But Stephanotie had never taken to Linda, + and she had taken to Molly, and still more had she taken to Nora; and, in + consequence, Linda pretended to hate her, and whenever she had an + opportunity used to run her down. + </p> + <p> + Linda and her friends, Rose and Mabel Armitage, with several other girls, + formed quite a clique in the school against Stephanotie and what she + termed her “set”; and now to think that this very objectionable American + girl was to spend the next day at The Laurels because Molly, forsooth! + wished it, was quite intolerable. + </p> + <p> + Linda thought for a moment, then went into the room where her mother was + busy writing. Mrs. Hartrick had just finished her letter. She looked up + when Linda approached. + </p> + <p> + “Well, darling?” she said. Mrs. Hartrick was very fond of Linda, and + petted her a great deal more than Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother! I am vexed,” said Linda. “Is it quite settled?” + </p> + <p> + “Is what settled, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it quite settled that Stephanotie is to come to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “By the way, I was going to ask you about her, Linda. What sort of girl is + she?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to say anything against my schoolfellows, mother; but if + you could only see her—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick raised her eyebrows in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Molly has taken so violently to her,” she answered, “and so has Nora; and + I thought that just for once—” + </p> + <p> + “So you have given leave, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I have.” + </p> + <p> + “And my friends are coming—those two charming girls, the Armitages.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear; I greatly admire both the Armitage girls. I am glad they are + coming; but why should not Miss Miller come also?” + </p> + <p> + “Only, she is not in their 'set,' mother—that is all. I wish—I + do wish you would ask her to postpone her visit. If she must come, let her + come another Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “I will think about it,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “I have certainly promised + and——But I will think about it.” + </p> + <p> + Linda saw that she could not press her mother any further. She went away + in great disquietude. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” she thought. “If only mother would speak to Molly at + once; but Molly is so impetuous; and once Stephanotie is asked, there will + be no getting out of it. She is just the sort of girl to tell that + unpleasant story about me, too. If mother knew that, why, I should at last + be in her black books. Well, whatever happens, Stephanotie must not be + asked to spend the afternoon here to-morrow. I must somehow contrive to + put some obstacle in the way.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — THE ROSE-COLORED DRESS. + </h2> + <p> + Meanwhile Molly rushed off to Nora. “Linda means mischief, and I must put + my foot down immediately,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Molly, what is up?” + </p> + <p> + “Put on your hat, darling, and come with me as fast as ever you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother has given in about Stephanotie. Linda will put her finger in the + pie if she possibly can. I mean Stephanotie to get her invitation within + the next five minutes. Now, then, come along, Nora. Do be quick.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick never allowed the girls to go out except very neatly + dressed; but on this occasion they were seen tearing down the road with + their garden hats on and minus their gloves. Had anyone from The Laurels + observed them, good-by to Molly's liberty for many a long day. No one did, + however. Linda during the critical moment was closeted with her mother. + When she reappeared the girls were halfway to the village. They reached it + in good time, and arrived at the house of Miss Truefitt, Stephanotie's + aunt. + </p> + <p> + Miss Truefitt was an old-fashioned and precise little lady. She had gone + through a great deal of trouble since the arrival of her niece, and often, + as she expressed it, did not know whether she stood on her head or her + heels; but she was fond of Stephanotie, who, notwithstanding her wild + ways, was very affectionate and very taking. And now, when she saw Molly + and Nora appearing, she herself entered the hall and opened the door for + them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dears,” she said, “Stephie is in her bedroom; she has a + headache, and wanted to lie down for a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just let me run up to her. I won't keep her a minute,” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Come in here with me,” said Miss Truefitt to Nora. She opened the door of + her neat little parlor. Nora entered. The room was full of gay pictures + and gay books, and scattered here and there were very large boxes of + bon-bons. + </p> + <p> + “How she can eat them all is what puzzles me,” said Miss Truefitt; “she + seems to live on them. The quantity she demolishes would wreck the health + of any English girl. Ah, here comes Molly.” + </p> + <p> + But Molly did not come downstairs alone; the American girl was with her. + Stephanotie rushed into the room. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to The Laurels to-morrow, auntie. I am going quite early; this + dear old Molly has asked me. You guess I'll have a good time. There will + be a box of bon-bons for Nora, sweet little Irish Nora; and a box for dear + little Molly, a true native of England, and a fine specimen to boot. Oh, + we shall have a nice time; and I am so glad I am asked!” + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of Mrs. Hartrick to send you an invitation, Stephie,” + said her aunt. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother that, Aunt Violet! You know perfectly well she would not ask + me if Molly and Nora had not got it out of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we did try our best and most conoodling ways,” said Nora in a soft + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, didn't you, you little Irish witch; and I guess you won, too. Well, + I'm going; we'll have a jolly lark with Linda. If for no other reason, I + should be glad to go to upset her apple cart.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Stephie! you are very coarse and vulgar,” said Miss Truefitt. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it, auntie. Have a bon-bon, do.” Stephanotie rushed across + the room, opened a big box of bon-bons, and presented one, as if it were a + pistol, full in Miss Truefitt's face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, thank you, my dear!” said that lady, backing; “the indigestion I + have already got owing to the way you have forced your bon-bons upon me + has almost wrecked my health. I have lost all appetite. Dear me, Stephie! + I wish you would not be so dreadfully American.” + </p> + <p> + “The process of Englishizing me is a slow one,” said Stephanotie. She + turned, walked up to the glass, and surveyed herself. She was dressed in + rich brown velveteen, made to fit her lissome figure. Her hair was of an + almost fiery red, and surrounded her face like a halo; her eyes were very + bright china-blue, and she had a dazzlingly fair complexion. There were + people who thought Stephanotie pretty; there were others who did not + admire her at all. She had a go-ahead, very independent manner, and was + the sort of girl who would be idolized by the weaker members of the + school. Molly, however, was by no means a weak member of the school, nor, + for that matter, was Nora, and they both took great pleasure out of + Stephanotie. + </p> + <p> + “My bark is worse than my bite,” said that young person. “I am something + like you, Molly. I am a bit of a scorcher; but there, when I am trained in + properly I'll be one of the best of good creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are booked for to-morrow now,” said Molly; “and Jehoshaphat! if + you don't come in time—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Molly!” whispered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “There, I won't say it again.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Miss Truefitt looked much shocked. Molly and Nora bade her good-by, + and nodded to Stephanotie, who stood upon the doorstep and watched them + down the street; then she returned to her aunt. + </p> + <p> + “I did think,” said Miss Truefitt slowly, “that the girls belonging to + your school were ladylike; but to come here without gloves, and that + eldest girl, Miss Hartrick, to use such a shocking expression.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bless you, Aunt Vi! it's nothing to the expressions she uses at + school. She's a perfect horror of a girl, and I like her for that very + reason. It is that horrid little Linda would please you; and I must say I + am sorry for your taste.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Stephanotie went upstairs to arrange her wardrobe for the next day. +She had long wished to visit Molly's home. The Laurels was one of +the prettiest places in the neighborhood, and Molly and Linda were +considered as among the smartest girls at the school. Stephanotie wished +to be hand-and-glove with Molly, not because she was supposed to be +rich, or respectable, or anything else, but simply because her nature +fitted to that of the wild, enthusiastic American girl. But, all the +same, now that she had got the <i>entrĂ©e</i>, as she expressed it, of the +Hartricks' home, she intended to make a sensation. + + “When I do the thing I may as well do it properly,” she said to +herself. “I will make them open their eyes. I have watched Mrs. Hartrick +in church; and, oh dear me! have not I longed to give her a poke in the +back. And as to Linda, she thinks a great deal of her dress. She +does not know what mine will be when I take out my very best and most +fascinating gown.” + </pre> + <p> + Accordingly Stephanotie rifled her trunk, and from its depths she produced + a robe which would, as she said, make the members of The Laurels sit up. + It was made of rose-colored silk, and trimmed with quantities of cream + lace. The skirt had many little flounces on it, and each was edged with + lace. The bodice was cut rather low in the neck, and the sleeves did not + come down anything like as far as the wrists. The rose-colored silk with + its cream lace trimmings was altogether the sort of dress which might be + worn in the evening; but daring Stephanotie intended to appear in it in + the morning. She would encircle her waist with a cream-colored sash, very + broad, and with much lace upon it; and would wear many-colored beads round + her neck, and many bracelets on her arms. + </p> + <p> + “The whole will have a stylish effect, and will at any rate distinguish me + from everyone else,” was her inward comment. She shook out the dress, and + then rang the bell. One of the servants appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I want to have this robe ironed and made as presentable as possible,” + said Stephanotie; “see you have it all done and put in my wardrobe ready + for wear tonight. I guess it will fetch 'em,” she added, and then she + rushed like a whirlwind into the presence of Miss Truefitt. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” she said, “would you like to see me done up in style?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I am sure, my dear,” said Miss Truefitt, looking at her + with nervous eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, Aunt Vi! if you were to see mother now you wouldn't know her; + she is wonderfully addicted to the pleasures of the toilet. There is + nothing so fascinating as the pleasures of the toilet when once you yield + to its charms. She rigged me up pretty smart before I left New York, and I + am going to wear my rose-colored silk with the cream lace to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not going to an evening party, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I shall stay all the evening, and I know I'll look killing. The + dress suits me down to the ground. It is one of my fads always to be in + something red; it seems to harmonize with my hair.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Truefitt uttered a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + “What are you sighing for, Aunt Vi?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, dear; only please don't offer me a bon-bon. The mere sight of + those boxes gives me a feeling of nausea.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have not tried the crystallized figs,” cried Stephanotie; “they + are wonderfully good; and if you feel nausea a peppermint-drop will set + you right. I have a kind of peppermint chocolate in this box which is + extremely stimulating to the digestive organs.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Stephie. I beg—I really do beg that you will take all the + obnoxious boxes out of the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, auntie; but you'll come up to-morrow to see me in my dress?” + </p> + <p> + The next day was Saturday, a holiday of course. Stephanotie had put her + hair into Hinde's curlers the night before, and, in consequence, it was a + perfect mass of frizzle and fluff the next morning. Miss Truefitt, who + wore her own neat gray locks plainly banded round her head, gave a shudder + when she first caught sight of Stephanotie. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking, dear, during the night,” she said, “of your pink silk + dress, and I should very much prefer you to wear the gray cashmere trimmed + with the neat velvet at the cuffs and collar. It would tone down your—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't say it,” said Stephanotie; “my hair is a perfect glory this + morning. Come yourself and look at it—here; stand just here; the sun + is shining full on me. Everyone will have to look twice at me with a head + like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, that is true,” said Miss Truefitt; “and perhaps three times; and + not approve of you then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, auntie, you don't know how bewitching I look when I am got up + in all my finery.” + </p> + <p> + “She is hopelessly vulgar,” thought poor Miss Truefitt to herself; “and I + always supposed Agnes would have such a nice, proper girl, such as she was + herself in the old days; but that last photograph of Agnes shows a decided + falling off. How truly glad I am that I was never induced to marry an + American! I would rather have my neat, precise little house and a small + income than go about like a figure of fun. That poor child will never be + made English; it is a hopeless task. The sooner she goes back to America + the better.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Stephanotie wandered about the house, thinking over and over of + the happy moment when she would appear at The Laurels. She thought it best + to put on her rose-colored dress in time for early dinner. It fitted her + well, but was scarcely the best accompaniment to her fiery-red hair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lor', miss!” said Maria, the servant, when she first caught sight of + Stephanotie. + </p> + <p> + “You may well say, 'Oh, lor'!' Maria,” replied Stephanotie, “although it + is not a very pretty expression. But have a bon-bon; I don't mean to be + cross.” + </p> + <p> + She whirled across the room, snatched hold of one of her boxes of + bon-bons, and presented it to Maria. Maria was not averse to a chocolate + peppermint, and popped one into her mouth. The next instant Miss Truefitt + appeared. “Now, Stephanotie,” she said, “do you think for a single moment—Oh, + my dear child, you really are too awful! You don't mean to say you are + going to The Laurels like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Have a bon-bon?” was Stephanotie's response. + </p> + <p> + “You are downright rude. I will not allow you to offer me bon-bons again.” + </p> + <p> + “But a fresh box of them has just arrived. I got them by the eleven + o'clock post to-day,” was Stephanotie's reckless answer; “and, oh, such + beauties! And I had a letter from mother to say that I might order as many + as ever I liked from Fuller's. I mean to write to them to ask them to send + me ten shillings' worth. I'll ask for the newest varieties. There surely + must be bon-bons which would not give you indigestion, Aunt Vi.” + </p> + <p> + “I must ask you to take off that dress, Stephanotie. I forbid you to go to + The Laurels in such unsuitable attire.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lor'! and it's lovely!” said Maria, <i>sotto voce</i>, as she was + leaving the room. + </p> + <p> + “What an unpleasant smell of peppermint!” said Miss Truefitt, sniffing at + that moment. “You know, Stephanotie, how I have begged of you not to eat + those unpleasant sweets in the dining room.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't,” said Stephanotie; “it was only Maria.” + </p> + <p> + Maria backed out of the room with another violent “Oh, lor'!” and ran down + to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to give notice,” she said. “It's Miss Stephanotie; she's the + most dazzlingly brilliant young lady I ever set eyes on; but mistress will + never forgive me for eating that peppermint in her presence.” + </p> + <p> + “Rinse the mouth out, and take no notice,” was the cook's somewhat + heartless rejoinder. “How do you say she was dressed, Maria?” + </p> + <p> + “Pink, the color of a rose, and that ravishing with lace. I never see'd + such a dress,” said Maria. “She's the most beautiful young lady and the + queerest I ever set eyes on.” + </p> + <p> + Stephanotie and her aunt were having a battle upstairs, and in the end the + elder lady won. Stephanotie was obliged to take off the unsuitable dress + and put on the gray cashmere. As subsequent events proved, it was lucky + for her that she did do so. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — LETTERS. + </h2> + <p> + By the post on the following morning there came two letters for Nora. She + hailed them with a cry of delight. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick was not in the room; she had a headache, and did not get up + to breakfast. Terence had already started for town. He had secured the + post he desired in his uncle's office, and thought himself a very great + man of business. Linda did not count for anything. + </p> + <p> + Nora flung herself into an easy-chair, and opened the first of her + letters. It was from her mother. She was soon lost in its contents. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR NORA [wrote Mrs. O'Shanaghgan]: Be prepared for very great, + startling, and at the same time gratifying, news. Your dear Uncle George, + who has been spending the last three weeks with us, has made an + arrangement which lifts us, my dear daughter, out of all pecuniary + embarrassments. I will tell you as briefly as possible what has taken + place. He had a consultation with your father, and induced him, at my + suggestion, to unburden his mind to him. You know the Squire's ways. He + pooh-poohed the subject and fought shy of it; but at last I myself brought + him to task, and the whole terrible and disgraceful state of things was + revealed. My dear Nora, my dear little girl, we were, it appears, on the + brink of bankruptcy. In a couple of months O'Shanaghgan would no longer + have been ours. + </p> + <p> + I cannot say that I should ever have regretted leaving this ramshackle and + much-dilapidated place, but of course I should have shrunk from the + disgrace, the exposure, the feeling that I was the cynosure of all eyes. + That, indeed, would have cut me to the quick. Had your father consented to + sell O'Shanaghgan and live in England, it would have been a moment of + great rejoicing for me; but the place to be sold up over his head was + quite a different matter. This, my dear Nora, seems to have been the + position of affairs when your dear uncle, like a good providence or a + guardian angel, appeared on the scene. Your uncle, my dearest Nora, is a + very rich man. My dear brother has been careful with regard to money + matters all his life, and is now in possession of a very large supply of + this world's goods. Your dear uncle was good enough to come to the rescue, + and has bought O'Shanaghgan from the man to whom your father owed the + mortgage. O'Shanaghgan now belongs to your Uncle George.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” cried Nora, springing to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Nora?” said Linda. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me for the present, or I'll say something you won't like to + hear,” replied Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Really, I must say you are copying Molly in your manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak to me,” said Nora. Her face was crimson; she had never felt + such a wild, surging sense of passion in the whole of her existence. + Linda's calm gray eyes were upon her, however. She managed to suppress any + more emotion, saw that her cousin was burning with curiosity, and + continued the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Although, my dearest Nora, Castle O'Shanaghgan now belongs to your Uncle + George, don't suppose for a single moment that he is going to be unkind to + us. Far from it. To all appearance the place is still ours; but with, oh! + such a difference. Your father is still, in the eyes of the tenants and of + the country round, the owner of Castle O'Shanaghgan; but, after consulting + with me, your Uncle George felt that he must not have the reins. His Irish + nature, my dear—But I need not discuss that. You know as well as I + do how reckless and improvident he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother!” gasped Nora. She clenched her little white teeth, and had + great difficulty in proceeding with her letter. Linda's curiosity, + however, acted as a restorative, and she went on with her mother's lengthy + epistle. + </p> + <p> + “All things are now changed, and I may as well say that a glorious era has + begun. Castle O'Shanaghgan is now your uncle's property, and it will soon + be a place to be proud of. He is having it refurnished from attic to + cellar; carpets, curtains, mirrors, furniture of all sorts have already + begun to arrive from one of the most fashionable shops in Dublin. + Gardeners have been got to put the gardens to rights, the weeds have been + removed from the avenue, the grass has been cut, the lawns have been mown; + the whole place looks already as if it had undergone a resurrection. My + bedroom, dear Nora, is now a place suitable for your mother to sleep in; + the bare boards are covered with a thick Brussels carpet. The Axminster + stair carpets arrived yesterday. In the dining room is one of the most + magnificent Turkey carpets I have ever seen; and your uncle has insisted + on having the edge of the floor laid with parquetry. Will you believe me, + Nora?—your father has objected to the sound of the hammering which + the workmen make in putting in the different pieces of wood. You can + scarcely believe it possible; but I state a fact. The stables are being + filled with suitable horses; and with regard to that I am glad to say your + father does take some interest. A victoria has arrived for me, and a + pony-trap for you, dear; for it seems your Uncle George has taken a great + fancy to you, my little Nora. Well, dear, all this resurrection, this + wonderful restoration of Castle O'Shanaghgan has occurred during your + absence. You will come back to a sort of fairyland; but it is one of your + uncle's stipulations that you do not come back at present; and, of course, + for such a fairy godfather, such a magician, no promise is too great to + give. So I have told him, dear Nora, that you will live with your kind and + noble Aunt Grace, and with your charming cousin Linda, and your cousin + Molly—about whom I do not hear so much—as long as he wishes + you to do so. You will receive the best of educations, and come back at + Christmas to a suitable home. You must have patience until then. It is + your uncle's proposal that at Christmas-time you and your cousins also + come to O'Shanaghgan, and that we shall have a right good old-fashioned + Christmas in this place, which at last is beautiful and worthy of your + ancient house. You must submit patiently, therefore, dear Nora, to + remaining in England. You will probably spend the greater portion of your + time there for the next few years, until you are really accomplished. But + the holidays you, with your dear cousins and your uncle and aunt, will + always spend at O'Shanaghgan. You must understand, dear, that the house + really belongs to your uncle; the place is his, and we are simply his + tenants, from whom he nobly asks no rent. How proud I am of my dear + brother, and how I rejoice in this glorious change!—Your + affectionate mother, + </p> + <p> + “ELLEN O'SHANAGHGAN.”. + </p> + <p> + The letter dropped from Nora's fingers. + </p> + <p> + “And was it I who effected all this?” she said to herself. “And I thought + I was doing good.” + </p> + <p> + The other letter lay unopened on her lap. She took it up with trembling + hands, and broke the seal. It was a short letter compared to her mother's, + but it was in the handwriting she loved best on earth. + </p> + <p> + “LIGHT O' THE MORNING [it began]: Why, then, my darling, it's done—it + is all over. The place is mine no longer; it belongs to the English. To + think I, O'Shanaghgan of Castle O'Shanaghgan, should live to write the + words. Your mother put it to me, and I could not refuse her; but, oh, Nora + asthore, heart of my life, I can scarcely bear to live here now. What with + the carpets and the curtains, and the fuss and the misery, and the whole + place being turned into a sort of furniture-shop, it is past bearing. I + keep out most of my time in the woods, and I won't deny to you, my dearest + child, that I have shed some bitter tears over the change in O'Shanaghgan; + for the place isn't what it was, and it's heart-breaking to behold it. But + your mother is pleased, and that's one comfort. I always did all I could + for her; and when she smiles at me and looks like the sun—she is a + remarkably handsome woman, Nora—I try to take a bit of comfort. But + I stumble over the carpets and the mats, and your mother is always saying, + 'Patrick, take care where you are going, and don't let the dogs come in to + spoil the new carpets.' And the English servants that we have now taken + are past bearing; and it's just as if I were in chains, and I would almost + as lief the place had been sold right away from me as see it in its + changed condition. I can add no more now, my child, except to say that, as + I am under great and bitter obligations to your Uncle George, + </p> + <p> + I must agree to his request that you stay in England for the present; but + Christmas is coming, and then I'll clasp you in my arms, and I'll have a + grain of comfort again.—Your sorrowful old father, + </p> + <p> + PATRICK O'SHANAGHGAN.” + </p> + <p> + Nora's cheeks flushed brighter than ever as she read these two letters. + The first had cut her to the heart; the second had caused that desire for + weeping which unless it is yielded to amounts to torture. + </p> + <p> + Oh! if Linda would not stay in the room. Oh! if she might crouch away + where she, too, could shed tears over the changed Castle O'Shanaghgan. For + what did she and her father want with a furniture-shop? Must she, for all + the rest of her days, live in a sort of feather-bed house? Must the + bareness, the space, the sense of expansion, be hers no more? She was half + a savage, and her silken fetters were tortures to her. + </p> + <p> + “It will kill him,” she murmured. She said the words aloud. + </p> + <p> + “What will kill him? What is wrong? Do, please, tell me,” said Linda. + </p> + <p> + Nora looked at her with flashing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “How bright your cheeks are, Nora, and how your eyes shine! But you look + very, very angry. What can be the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter? There is plenty the matter. I cannot tell you now,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll go up and ask mother; perhaps she will tell me. It has + something to do with that old place of yours, I have not the slightest + doubt. Mother has got a very long letter from Ireland; she will tell me + perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, go; and don't come back again,” said Nora, almost rudely. + </p> + <p> + “She gets worse and worse,” thought Linda as she slowly mounted the + stairs. “Nora is anything but a pleasure in the house. At first when she + came she was not quite so bad; she had a pretty face, and her manners had + not been coarsened from contamination with Molly. Now she is much changed. + Yes, I'll go to mother and talk to her. What an awful afternoon we are + likely to have with that American girl here and Nora changing for the + worse hour by hour.” + </p> + <p> + Linda knocked at her mother's door. Mrs. Hartrick was not well, and was + sitting up in bed reading her letters. + </p> + <p> + “My head is better, Linda,” she said. “I shall get up presently. What is + it, darling?” + </p> + <p> + “It is only the usual thing,” said Linda, with a deep sigh. “I am always + being rubbed the wrong way, and I don't like it.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems, my pet. But how nicely you have done your hair this morning! + How very neat and ladylike you are becoming, Linda! You are a great + comfort to me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, mother; I try to please you,” said Linda. She seated herself + on her mother's bed, suppressed a sigh, then said eagerly: + </p> + <p> + “Nora is awfully put out. Is there bad news from that wild place, Castle + O'Shanaghgan?” + </p> + <p> + “Bad news?” cried Mrs. Hartrick. “Has the child had letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, two; she had been reading them instead of eating her breakfast, and + the sighs and the groans, and the flashing eyes and the clenched teeth, + and the jumping to her feet and the flopping herself down again have been + past bearing. She won't let out anything except that she is downright + miserable, and that it is a burning shame.” + </p> + <p> + “What can she mean, mother? Is the old place sold? I always expected they + were terribly poor.” + </p> + <p> + “The best, most splendid news,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “My dear Linda, you + must be mistaken. Your father says that he has given your aunt and uncle + leave to tell Nora everything. I thought the child would be in the seventh + heaven of bliss; in fact, I was almost dreading her arrival on the scene, + she is so impetuous.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mother, she is not in any seventh heaven of bliss,” replied Linda; + “so perhaps they have not told her. But what is it, mother dear? Do tell + me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is this, darling—your father has bought Castle O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! and given it to the O'Shanaghgans. Why did he do that?” + </p> + <p> + “He has bought it, but he has not given it to the O'Shanaghgans. Some day, + if Terence turns out worthy, the old place will doubtless be his, as we + have no son of our own; but at present it is your father's property; he + has bought it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then no wonder poor Nora is sad,” said Linda. “I can understand her; she + is fond of the old place.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should she be sad? They are not going; they are to stay there, + practically owners of all they possess; for, although the property is + really your father's, he will only exercise sufficient control to prevent + that poor, wild, eccentric uncle of yours from throwing good money after + bad. To all intents and purposes the O'Shanaghgans still hold possession; + only now, my dear Linda, they will have a beautiful house, magnificently + furnished. The grounds are carefully attended to, good gardeners provided, + English servants sent for, and the whole place made suitable for your + father's sister.” + </p> + <p> + “But does Nora know of this?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so. I know your father said she was to be told.” + </p> + <p> + “She is very miserable about something. I cannot understand her,” said + Linda. “I tell you what, I'll just go down and tell her. Perhaps those two + letters were nothing but grumbles; and the O'Shanaghgans did not know then + the happiness that was in store for them.” + </p> + <p> + “You can tell her if you like, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, I will,” said Linda. She jumped off her mother's bed and ran + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + Nora was standing in the conservatory. She was gazing straight before her, + not at the great, tall, flowering cactus nor the orchids, nor the mass of + geraniums and pelargoniums of every shade and hue—she was seeing a + picture of a wild, wild lonely place, of a bare old house, of a seashore + that was like no other seashore in the world. She was looking at this + picture with all the heart of which she was capable shining in her eyes; + and she knew that she was looking at it in imagination only, and that she + would never see the real picture again, for the wild old place was wild no + longer, and in Nora's opinion the glory had departed. She turned when + Linda's somewhat mincing voice fell upon her ears. + </p> + <p> + “How you startled me!” she said. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good news,” said Linda. “I am not quite so bad as you think me, Nora, + and I am delighted. Mother has told me everything. Castle O'Shanaghgan is + yours to live in as long as ever you care to do so. Of course it belongs + to us; but that does not matter, and it is furnished from attic to cellar + most splendidly, and there are English servants, and there are—” + </p> + <p> + “Everything abominable and odious and horrible!” burst from Nora's lips. + “Oh, don't keep me; don't keep me! I am smothered at the thought—O'Shanaghgan + is ruined—ruined!” + </p> + <p> + She ran away from her cousin out into the air. At headlong speed did she + go, until at last she found herself in the most remote and least + cultivated part of the plantation. + </p> + <p> + Oh, to be alone! Now she could cry, and cry she did right bitterly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — THE BOX OF BON-BONS. + </h2> + <p> + It occurred to Stephanotie that, as she could not wear the rose-colored + dress, as she must go perforce to the Hartricks' in her dove-colored + cashmere, with its very neat velvet collar and cuffs, she would at least + make her entrance a little striking. + </p> + <p> + “Why not take a box of bon-bons to Mrs. Hartrick?” she said to herself. + “There's that great big new box which I have not opened yet It contains + dozens of every kind of sweetmeat. I'll present it to her; she'll be + pleased with the attention.” + </p> + <p> + The box was a very large one; on its lid was painted a picture of two or + three cupids hovering in the air, some of them touching the shoulders of a + pretty girl who was supposed to be opening a box of chocolates. There was + a good deal of color and embossed writing also on the cover, and + altogether it was as showy and, in Stephanotie's opinion, as handsome a + thing as anybody could desire. + </p> + <p> + She walked through the village, holding the box, tied with great bunches + of red ribbon, in her hand. She scorned to put a brown-paper cover over + it; she would take it in all its naked glory into the midst of the + Hartrick household. + </p> + <p> + On her way she met the other two girls who were also going to spend an + afternoon at The Laurels. Rose and Mabel Armitage were the daughters of a + neighbouring squire. They were nice girls, but conventional. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing original about either of them; but they were very much + respected in the school, not only on account of their father's position—he + represented the county in the House—but also because they were good, + industrious, and so-called clever. The Armitages took prizes at every + examination. Their French was considered very nearly Parisian in accent; + their drawings were all in absolutely perfect proportions. It is true the + trees in Rose's landscapes looked a little stiff; but how carefully she + laid on her water-colors; how honestly she endeavored to copy her master's + smallest requirements! Then Mabel played with great correctness, never for + a single moment allowing a wrong note to appear; and they both sang, very + prettily, simple little ballads; and they were dressed with exquisite + neatness and propriety in very quiet colors—dark blues, very dark + reds, pretty, neat blouses, suitable skirts. Their hair was shiny, and sat + in little tight tendrils and pretty curls round their heads. They were as + like as two peas—each girl had a prim little mouth with rosy lips; + each girl possessed an immaculate set of white teeth; each girl had a + little, straight nose and pretty, clear gray-blue eyes; their foreheads + were low, their eyebrows penciled and delicately marked. They had neat + little figures; they were neat in every way, neat in soul too; admirable + little people, but commonplace. And, just because they were commonplace, + they did not like fiery-red-haired Stephanotie; they thought Molly the + essence of vulgarity; they secretly admired beautiful Nora, but thought + her manners and style of conversation deplorable; and they adored Linda as + a kindred spirit. + </p> + <p> + Seeing them walking on in advance, like a little pair of doves, + Stephanotie quickened her steps until she came up to them. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” she said; “you guess where I'm off to?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I cannot say,” answered Rose, turning gently round. + </p> + <p> + Mabel was always Rose's echo. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can guess where you're going. You're going to have a right down + good time at The Laurels—guess I'm right?” + </p> + <p> + “We are going to spend an afternoon at The Laurels,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “An afternoon at The Laurels,” echoed Mabel. + </p> + <p> + “And so am I—that's the best of the fun,” said Stephanotie; “and I + mean to give her something to remember me by.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you mean?” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my good, respected hostess, Mrs. Hartrick.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to give her?” asked Rose. + </p> + <p> + “This. How do you like it? It's full of bon-bons.” + </p> + <p> + Rose, notwithstanding her virtuous and commonplace mind, had a secret + leaning toward bon-bons. She did not dare to confess it even to Mabel; for + Mabel also had a secret leaning, and did not dare to confess it to Rose. + It was not <i>comme il faut</i> in their family for the girls of the house + to indulge in bon-bons; but still, they would have liked some of those + delicious sweets, and had often envied Stephanotie when she was showing + them to her companions. + </p> + <p> + Of course, not for worlds would they have been friendly with the terrible + American girl; but they did envy her her boxes of sweets. + </p> + <p> + “How gay!” said Rose, looking at the startling cover, with its cupids and + its greedy-looking maiden. + </p> + <p> + “How jolly,” said the American girl—“how luscious when you're eating + them! Would you like to see them inside?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think not,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Better not,” said Mabel. + </p> + <p> + “But why better not?” continued Stephanotie. “It's natural that girls like + us should like sweetmeats, bon-bons, or anything of that sort. Here, + there's a nice little bit of shelter under this tree, and there's no one + looking. I'll untie the ribbons; just hold the box, Rose.” + </p> + <p> + Rose held it. Stephanotie hastily pulled off the red ribbons and lifted + the cover. Oh, how delicious the inside did look!—rows upon rows of + every imaginable sweet—cream-colored sweets, rose-colored, green, + white; plums, apples, pears, figs, chocolates; every sort that the heart + of girl could desire lay before them in rows on rows. + </p> + <p> + “They are, every one of them, for Mrs. Hartrick,” said Stephanotie, “and + you mustn't touch them. But I have got two boxes in my pocket; they make + it bulge out; I should be glad to get rid of them. We'll tie this up, but + you'll each have one of my boxes.” + </p> + <p> + In a jiffy the big box was tied up again with its huge crimson bows, and + each of the Armitage girls possessed one of the American girl's boxes of + bon-bons. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't they pretty? Do have some; you don't know how long you may be kept + waiting for your tea,” said Stephanotie as she danced beside her + companions up the avenue. + </p> + <p> + In this fashion, therefore, did the three enter the house, for both of the + Armitages had yielded to temptation, and each girl was just finishing a + large bon-bon when they appeared on the scene. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick was standing in the great square central hall, waiting for + her guests. + </p> + <p> + Stephanotie ran up to her. + </p> + <p> + “It's very good of you indeed to ask me,” she said; “and please accept + this—won't you? It's from an American girl, a trophy to remember her + by.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” said Mrs. Hartrick, flushing very brightly. She stepped back a + little; the huge box of bon-bons was forced into her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Jehoshaphat!” exclaimed Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Molly!” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + Linda uttered a little sigh. Rose and Mabel immediately became as discreet + and commonplace and proper as they could be; but Stephanotie knew that the + boxes of bon-bons were reposing in each of their pockets and her spirits + rose higher than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Irish Nora?” she said. “It's she that is fond of a good sweet + such as they make for us in the States. But have the box—won't you, + Mrs. Hartrick? I have brought it to you as a token of my regard.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed? Thank you very much, Miss Miller,” said Mrs. Hartrick in a chilly + voice. She laid the box on a side-table. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — THE TELEGRAM, + </h2> + <p> + The girls went out into the grounds. The afternoon happened to be a + perfect one; the air was balmy, with a touch of the Indian summer about + it. The last roses were blooming on their respective bushes; the geraniums + were making a good show in the carefully laid out beds. There were clumps + of asters and dahlias to be seen in every direction; some late poppies and + some sweet-peas and mignonette made the borders still look very + attractive, and the chrysanthemums were beginning to appear. + </p> + <p> + “In a week's time they will be splendid,” said Linda, piloting her two + friends through the largest of the greenhouses. + </p> + <p> + “Do come away,” said Molly; “when Linda speaks in that prim voice she's + intolerable. Come, Nora; come, Stephie—we'll just have a run by + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Nora was still looking rather pale. The shock of the morning had caused + the color to fade from her cheeks; she could not get the utterly changed + O'Shanaghgan out of her head. She longed to write to her father, and yet + she did not dare. + </p> + <p> + Stephanotie looked at her with the curious, keen glance which an American + girl possesses. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Do say,” she said, linking her hand inside Nora's. “Is it + anything that a bon-bon will soothe, or is it past that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite past that; but don't ask me now, Stephie. I cannot tell you, + really.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't bother her,” said Molly; “she has partly confided in me, but not + wholly. We'll have a good time by ourselves. What game do you think we had + best play, Stephie?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not one for games at all,” answered Stephanotie. “Girls of my age + don't play games. They are thinking seriously of the business of life—the + flirtations and the jolly time they are going to have before they settle + down to their staid married life. You English are so very childish.” + </p> + <p> + “And we Irish are childish too,” said Nora. “It's lovely to be childish,” + she added. “I hate to put away childish things.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! so that is the Irish and English way,” said Stephanotie. “But + there, don't let us talk nationalities; let's be cozy and cheerful. I can + tell you I did feel annoyed at coming here such a dowd; it was not my + fault. I meant to make an impression; I did, really and truly. It was very + good of you, Molly, to ask me; and I know that proud lady, your mother, + didn't want to have me a bit. I am nothing but Stephanotie Miller, and she + doesn't know the style we live in at home. If she did, maybe she would + open her eyes a little; but she doesn't, and that's flat; and I am vulgar, + or supposed to be, just because I am frank and open, and I have no + concealment about me. I call a spade a spade.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hurrah! so do I,” said Molly, the irrepressible. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, I don't use your words; they wouldn't suit me at all,” + said the American girl. “I never call out Jehoshaphat the way you do, + whoever Jehoshaphat <i>is</i>; but I have my little eccentricities, and + they run to pretty and gay dresses—dresses with bright colors and + quantities of lace on them—and bon-bons at all hours, in season and + out of season. It's easy to content me, and I don't see why my little + innocent wishes should not be gratified.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are very nicely dressed now,” said Nora, looking with approval at + the gray cashmere. + </p> + <p> + “Me nicely dressed!” screamed Stephanotie. “Do you call this dress nice? + Why, I do declare it's a perfect shame that I should be made such a + spectacle. It don't suit my hair. When I am ordering a dress I choose + shades of red; they tone me down. I am fiery to-day—am I not, + Molly?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you certainly are,” said Molly. “But what—what did you do to + it?” + </p> + <p> + “To my locks, do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. They do stick out so funnily. I know mother was shocked; she likes + our heads to be perfectly smooth.' + </p> + <p> + “Like the Armitages', for instance,” said Stephanotie. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes; something like theirs. They are pretty girls, are they not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephanotie; “but don't they give you the quivers? Don't you + feel as if you were rubbed the wrong way the moment you speak to them?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't take to them,” said Molly; “but I think they're pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “They're just like what O'Shanaghgan is now,” thought Nora, who did not + speak. “They are all prim and proper; there's not a single wildness + allowed to come out anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “But they're for all the world like anybody else,” said Stephanotie. + “Don't they love sweeties just! If you' had seen them—the greedy way + they took the bon-bons out of the little boxes I gave them. Oh, they're + just like anybody else, only they are playing parts; they are little + actors; they're always acting. I'd like to catch them when they were not. + I'd like to have them for one wild week, with you, Molly, and you, Nora. I + tell you there would be a fine change in them both.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a telegraph-boy coming down the avenue,” cried Molly suddenly. + “I'll run and see what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Nora did not know why her heart beat. Telegrams arrived every day at The + Laurels. Nevertheless she felt sure that this was no ordinary message; she + stood now and stared at that boy as though her eyes would start from their + sockets. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” said Stephanotie. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You're vexed about something. Why should you be so distant with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not, Stephie. I am a little anxious; it is difficult always to be + just the same,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't I know it, my darling; and if you had as much to do with Aunt + Vi Truefitt as I have, you would realize how often <i>my</i> spirits turn + topsy-turvy. I often hope that I'll be Englishized quickly, so that I may + get back to my dear parents. But there, Molly is coming back.” + </p> + <p> + “The telegram was for mother,” she said. “Do let us play.” + </p> + <p> + Nora looked at Molly. Her face was red; it was usually pale. Nora wondered + what had brought that high color into her cheeks. Molly seemed excited, + and did not want to meet her cousin's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us have a race,” she said. “I don't want to put away childish + things. I want to have a good game while I am in the humor. Let us see who + will get first to the top of that hill. I like running uphill. I'm off; + catch me who may!” + </p> + <p> + Molly started. Her figure was stout, and she ran in a somewhat awkward + way. Nora flew after her. She soon reached her side. + </p> + <p> + “There, stop running,” she said. “What is up?” + </p> + <p> + “What is up?” echoed Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what was in that telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “The telegram was for mother.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know what was in it. I know you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—nothing, Nora. Come, our race isn't over yet. I'm off + again; you cannot catch me this time.” + </p> + <p> + Molly ran, panting as she did so. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell her; I won't,” she said to herself. “I wish her eyes were + not so sharp. She is sure to find out; but I have begged and prayed of + mother not to tell her, at least until after Stephanotie and the others + have gone. Then, I suppose, she must know.” + </p> + <p> + Molly reached the top of the hill. She was so blown that she had to fling + herself on the grass. Nora again reached her side. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Molly,” she said; “there is something the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a telegram for mother, and I cannot tell you anything whatever + about it,” said Molly in a cross voice. “There, I'm off once more. I + promised Linda that I would help her to look after the Armitage girls. + Prim and proper as they are, they are sometimes a little bit too much for + my dainty sister Linda. You take care of Stephie; she's right good fun. + Let me go, Nora; let me go.” + </p> + <p> + Molly pulled her hand almost roughly out of her cousin's grip, and the + next moment was rushing downhill as fast as she could in the direction of + the summer-house. There she knew she would find Linda and her two friends. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. — THE BLOW. + </h2> + <p> + Notwithstanding all the efforts of at least five merry girls, there was a + cloud over the remainder of that afternoon. Nora's face was anxious; her + gay laugh was wanting; her eyes wore an abstracted, far-away look. The + depression which the letters of the morning had caused was now increased + tenfold. If she joined in the games it was without spirit; when she spoke + there was no animation in her words. Gone was the Irish wit, the pleasant + Irish humor; the sparkle in the eyes was missing; the gay laughter never + rose upon the breeze. At tea things were just as bad. Even at supper + matters had not mended. + </p> + <p> + Molly now persistently avoided her cousin. Stephanotie and she were having + a wild time. Molly, to cover Nora's gloom, was going on in a more + extravagant way than usual. She constantly asked Jehoshaphat to come to + her aid; she talked of Holy Moses more than once; in short, she exceeded + herself in her wildness. Linda was so shocked that she took the Armitage + girls to a distant corner, and there discoursed with them in low whispers. + Now and then she cast a horrified glance round at where her sister and the + Yankee, as she termed Stephanotie, were going on together. To her relief, + toward the end of the evening, Mrs. Hartrick came into the room. But even + her presence could not suppress Molly now. She was beside herself; the + look of Nora sitting gloomily apart from the rest, pretending to be + interested in one of Sir Walter Scott's novels, was too much for her. She + knew that a bad time was coming for Nora, and her misery made her + reckless. Mrs. Hartrick, hearing some of her naughtiest words, said in an + icy tone that Miss Truefitt had sent a maid for Stephanotie; and a few + moments afterward the little party broke up. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the strange girls had departed, Mrs. Hartrick turned + immediately to Molly. + </p> + <p> + “I am shocked at your conduct,” she said. “In order to give you pleasure I + allowed Miss Miller to come here; but I should have been a wiser and + happier woman if I had taken dear Linda's advice. She is not the sort of + girl I wish either you or Nora ever to associate with again. Now, go + straight to your room, and don't leave it until I send for you.” + </p> + <p> + Molly stalked off with a defiant tread and eyes flashing fire; she would + not even glance at Nora. Linda began to talk in her prim voice. Before she + could utter a single word Nora had sprung forward, caught both her aunt's + hands, and looked her in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, “I must know. What did that telegram say?” + </p> + <p> + “What telegram, Nora? My dear child, you forget yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not forget myself, Aunt Grace. If I am not to go quite off my head, + I must know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot sit; please put me out of suspense. Please tell me the worst at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for you, dear; I really am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, please speak! Is anything—anything wrong with father?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope nothing serious.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I knew it,” said Nora; “there is something wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “He has had an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “An accident? An accident? Oh, what? Oh! it's Andy; it must be Andy. Oh, + Aunt Grace, I shall go mad; I shall go mad!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick did not speak. Then she looked at Linda. She motioned to + Linda to leave the room. Linda, however, had no idea of stirring. She was + too much interested; she looked at Nora as if she thought her really mad. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—tell me; is father killed?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my poor child; no, no. Do calm yourself, Nora. I will let you see + the telegram; then you will know all that I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, please!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick took it out of her pocket. Nora clutched it very hard, but + her trembling fingers could scarcely take the little flimsy pink sheet out + of its envelope. At last she had managed it. She spread it before her; + then she found that her dazed eyes could not see the words. What was the + misery of the morning to the agony of this moment? + </p> + <p> + “Read it for me,” she said in a piteous voice. “I—I cannot see.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, my dear; you will faint if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! everything is going round. Is he—is he dead?” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear; nothing very wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Read—read!” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick did read. The following words fell upon the Irish girl's + ears: + </p> + <p> + “O'Shanaghgan was shot at from behind a hedge this, morning. Seriously + injured. Break it to Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go to him,” said Nora, jumping up. “When is the next train? Why + didn't you tell me before? I must go—I must go at once.” + </p> + <p> + Now that the worst of the news was broken, she had recovered her courage + and some calmness. + </p> + <p> + “I must go to him,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I have telegraphed. I have been mindful of you. I knew the moment you + heard this news you would wish to be off to Ireland, so I have telegraphed + to know if there is danger. If there is danger you shall go, my dear + child; indeed, I myself will take you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I must go in any case,” repeated Nora. “Danger or no danger, he is + hurt, and he will want me. I must go; you cannot keep me here.” + </p> + <p> + Just then there came a loud ring at the hall-door. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless that is the telegram,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “Run, Linda, and + bring it.” + </p> + <p> + Linda raced into the hall. In a few moments she came back with a telegram. + </p> + <p> + “The messenger is waiting, mother,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick tore it open, read the contents, uttered a sigh of relief, + and then handed the paper on to Nora to read. + </p> + <p> + “There,” she said; “you can read for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Nora read: + </p> + <p> + “Better. Doctor anticipates no danger. Tell Nora I do not wish her to + come. Writing. + </p> + <p> + “HARTRICK.” + </p> + <p> + “There, my dear, this is a great relief,” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am going all the same,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “No; that I cannot possibly allow.” + </p> + <p> + “But he wants me, even if he is not in danger. It was bad enough to be + away from him when he was well; but now that he is ill——You + don't understand, Aunt Grace—there is no one can do anything for + father as I can. I am his Light o' the Morning.” + </p> + <p> + “His what?” said Mrs. Hartrick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is what he calls me; but I have no time to explain now. I must + go; I don't care.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an ungrateful girl, Nora. If you had lived through the misery I + have lived through the last few hours this telegram would fill you with + thankfulness. It is your duty to stay here. You are under a promise to + your kind uncle. He has rescued your father and mother from a most + terrible position, and your promise to him saying that you would stay + quietly here you cannot in all honor break. If your father were in danger + it would be a different matter. As it is, it is your duty to stay quietly + here, and show by your patience how truly you love him.” + </p> + <p> + Nora sat silent. Mrs. Hartrick's words were absolute. The good lady felt + that she was strictly following the path of duty. + </p> + <p> + “I can understand the shock you have had,” she continued, looking at the + girl, who now sat with her head slightly drooping, her hands clasped + tightly together, her attitude one of absolute despair. + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” she said, turning to her daughter, “fetch Nora a glass of wine. I + noticed, my dear, that you ate scarcely any supper.” + </p> + <p> + Nora did not speak. + </p> + <p> + Linda returned with a glass of claret. + </p> + <p> + “Now drink this off, Nora,” said her aunt; “I insist.” + </p> + <p> + Nora was about to refuse, but she suddenly changed her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go whether she gives me leave or not,” was her inward thought. “I + shall want strength.” She drank off the wine, and returned the empty glass + to her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “There now, that is better,” said Mrs. Hartrick; “and as you are + unaccustomed to wine you will doubtless sleep soundly after it. Go up to + your bedroom, dear. I will telegraph the first thing in the morning to + O'Shanaghgan, and if there is the slightest cause for alarm will promise + to take you there immediately. Be content with my promise; be patient, be + brave, I beg of you, Nora. But, believe me, your uncle knows best when he + says you are not to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Aunt Grace,” said Nora in a low voice. She did not glance at + Linda. She turned and left the room. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. — TEN POUNDS. + </h2> + <p> + Molly was standing by the open window of her room when Nora came in. She + entered quite quietly. Every vestige of color had left her face; her eyes, + dark and intensely blue, were shining; some of her jet-black hair had got + loosened and fell about her neck and shoulders. Molly sprang toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nora!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Nora. “I have heard; father is hurt—very badly hurt, + and I am going to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you indeed? Is mother going to take you?” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “No; she has refused. A telegram has come from my uncle; he says I am not + to go—as if a thousand telegrams would keep me. Molly, I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “But you cannot go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Now—this very minute.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense! There are no trains.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall leave the house and stay at the station. I shall take the very + next train to town. I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Nora, have you money?” + </p> + <p> + “Money?” said Nora. “I never thought of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother won't give you money if she does not wish you to go.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go to my room and see.” Nora rushed away. She came back in a few + moments with her purse; she flung the contents on Molly's bed. Molly took + up the silver coins as they rattled out of Nora's purse. Alack and alas! + all she possessed was eight shillings and a few coppers. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot go with that,” said Molly; “and I have nothing to lend you, or + I would; indeed, I would give you all I possess, but mother only gives me + sixpence a week. Nothing would induce her to give me an allowance. I have + sixpence a week just as if I were a baby, and you can quite understand I + don't save out of that. What is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + Nora looked nonplused. For the first time the vigorous intention, the + fierce resolve which was bearing her onward, was checked, and checked by + so mighty a reason that she could not quite see her way out of the present + difficulty. To ask her Aunt Grace for money would be worse than useless. + Nora was a sufficient reader of character to be quite certain that Mrs. + Hartrick when she said a thing meant it. She would be kind to Nora up to a + certain point. Were her father in what they called danger she herself + would be the first to help Nora to go to him. + </p> + <p> + “How little they know how badly he wants me!” thought the girl; “how all + this time he is pining for me—he who never knew illness in his life—pining, + pining for me! Nothing shall keep me from him. I would steal to go to him; + there is nothing I would not do.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora, how queer you look!” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking,” said Nora. “I wonder how I am to get that money? Oh, I + have it. I'll ask Stephanotie to lend it to me. Do you think she would?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I think it very likely. She is generous, and she has heaps + of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll go to her,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, Nora; if you really want to run away——” + </p> + <p> + “Run away?” said Nora. “If you like to call it so, you may; but I'm going. + My own father is ill; my uncle and aunt don't hold the same position to me + that my father holds. I will go to him—I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I tell you what it is,” said Molly, “you must do this thing + carefully or you'll be locked up in your bedroom. Mother would think + nothing of locking the door of your bedroom and keeping you there. You + don't know mother when once her back is up. She can be immensely kind up + to a certain point, and then—oh! I know it—immensely cruel.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” said Nora. “I hate doing a thing in this kind of way—in + the dark, as it were.” + </p> + <p> + “You must listen to me,” said Molly; “you must be very careful. I have had + some little scampers in my time, and I know how to manage matters. There + is only one way for you to go.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “You and I must go off and see Stephanotie; but we cannot do so until + everyone is in bed.” + </p> + <p> + “How can we go then?” + </p> + <p> + “We can easily climb down from this window. You see this pear-tree; it + almost touches the window. I have climbed down by it more than once; we + can get in again the same way.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. If we must sneak out of the house like thieves,” said Nora, + “it's as good as any other way.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you it's the only way,” said Molly. “We must be off on our way to + London before mother gets up tomorrow morning. You don't know anything + whatever about trains.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can look them out,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go back to your room. Mother will not be going to bed for quite an + hour. We cannot help it; we can do nothing until she is safe in bed. Go + away at once, Nora; for if she finds you here talking to me she will + suspect something. I cannot tell you what mother is when once her + suspicions are aroused; and she has had good cause to suspect me before + now.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you really mean to say you'll come with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly mean to say I won't let you go alone. Now then, go away; just + pack a few things, and slip back to me when I knock on the wall. I know + when mother has gone to bed; it is necessary that she should be asleep, + and that Linda should be asleep also; that is all we require. Leave the + rest to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are certain Stephanotie can lend us the money?” + </p> + <p> + “We can but ask her. If she refuses we must only come back again and make + the best of things.” + </p> + <p> + “I will never come back,” said Nora. “I will go to the first pawnbroker's + and pawn everything of value I possess; but go to my father I will.” + </p> + <p> + “I admire your courage,” said Molly. “Now then, go back to your room and + wait for my signal.” + </p> + <p> + Nora returned to her room. She began to open and shut her drawers. She did + not care about being quiet. It seemed to her that no one could keep her + from her father against her will. She did not recognize the all-potent + fact that she had no money herself for the journey. Still, the money must + be obtained. Of course Stephanotie had it, and of course Stephanotie would + lend it; it would only be a loan for a few days. When once Nora got to + Ireland she would return the money immediately. + </p> + <p> + She opened her drawers and filled a little black bag which she had brought + with her from home. She put in the trifles she might need on her journey; + the rest of her things could stay; she could not be bothered with them one + way or the other. Then she sat quite still on the edge of her bed. How + earnestly she wished that her aunt would retire for the night, that Linda + would be quiet! Linda's room adjoined Nora's—it opened into Nora's—and + Linda, when occasions roused her suspicions, could be intensely watchful. + She did not seem to be going to bed; she kept moving about in her room. + Poor Nora could scarcely restrain herself from calling out, “Oh, do be + quick, Linda! What are you staying up for?” but she refrained from saying + the fatal words. Presently she heard the creak of Linda's bed as she got + into it. This was followed by silence. + </p> + <p> + Nora breathed a sigh of relief, but still the dangers were not past. Her + little black bag lay quite ready on the chair, and she herself sat on the + edge of her bed. Mrs. Hartrick's steps were heard coming up the stairs, + and the next moment the door of Nora's room was opened and the good lady + looked in. + </p> + <p> + “Not in bed, Nora,” she said; “but this is very wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I could not sleep,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick went up to her. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear child,” she said, “I cannot rest until I see you safe in + bed. Come, I must undress you myself. What a wan little face! My dear + girl, you must trust in God. Your uncle's telegram assures us that there + is no danger; and if there is the smallest occasion I will take you myself + to your father tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if you would only promise to take me,” said poor Nora, suddenly + rising to her feet, twining her arms round her aunt's neck, and looking + full into her face. “Oh! don't say you will take me to my father if there + is danger; say you'll take me in any case. It would break my heart to stay + away. I cannot—cannot stay away from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you are talking in an unreasonable way, Nora—in a way I cannot + for a moment listen to. Your uncle wishes you to stay where you are. He + would not wish that if there was the least occasion for you to go to + Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will not take me tomorrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless your father is worse. Come, I must help you to get your things + off.” + </p> + <p> + Nora felt herself powerless in Mrs. Hartrick's hands. The good lady + quickly began to divest her of her clothes, soon her night-dress was + popped on, and she was lying down in bed. + </p> + <p> + “What is that black bag doing here?” said Mrs. Hartrick, glancing at the + bag as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I was packing my things together to go to father.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear, we must only trust there will be no necessity. Now, + goodnight. Sleep well, my little girl. Believe me, I am not so + unsympathetic as I look.” + </p> + <p> + Nora made no reply. She covered her face with the bedclothes; a sob came + from her throat. Mrs. Hartrick hesitated for a moment whether she would + say anything further; but then, hoping that the tired-out girl would + sleep, she went gently from the room. In the passage she thought for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “Why did Nora pack that little bag?” she said to herself. “Can it be + possible—but no, the child would not do it. Besides, she has no + money.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hartrick entered her own room at the other end of the corridor and + shut the door. Then stillness reigned over the house—stillness + absolute and complete. + </p> + <p> + No light had been burning under Molly's door when Mrs. Hartrick had + passed. Molly, indeed, wiser than Nora, had got into bed and lay there, + dressed, it is true, but absolutely in the dark. Nora also lay in her bed; + every nerve was beating frantically; her body seemed to be all one great + pulse. At last, in desperation, she sprang out of bed—there came the + welcome signal from Molly's room. Nora struck a light and began to dress + feverishly. In ten minutes she was once more in her clothes. She now put + on the dark-gray traveling dress she had worn when coming to The Laurels. + Her hat and jacket were quickly put on, and, carrying the little black + bag, she entered Molly's room. + </p> + <p> + “What hour is it?” said Nora. “It must be long past midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; nothing of the kind. It is not more than eleven o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I thought it was one or two. Do you know that your mother came to see + me and insisted on my getting into bed?” + </p> + <p> + “You were a great goose, Nora. You should have lain down as I did, in your + clothes; that would have saved a little time. But come, mother has been + quite quiet for half an hour and more; she must be sound asleep. We had + better go.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we had better go,” said Nora. “I packed a few things in this bag; it + is quite light, and I can carry it. My money is in it, too—eight + shillings and fivepence. I do trust Stephanotie will be able to lend us + the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Molly had not been idle while Nora was in her room. She had taken care to + oil the hasp of the window; and now, with extreme caution, she lifted it + up, taking care that it did not make the slightest sound as she did so. + The next moment both girls were seated on the window-ledge. Molly sprang + on to the pear-tree, which creaked and crackled under her weight; but Mrs. + Hartrick was already in the land of dreams. Molly dropped on to the ground + beneath, and then it was Nora's turn. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I shut the window before I get on to the pear-tree?” whispered + Nora. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; leave it open. Come just as you are.” + </p> + <p> + Nora reached out her arms, grasped the pear tree, and slipped down to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, we must be off,” said Molly. “I hope Pilot won't bark.” She was + alluding to the big watchdog. “But there, I'll speak to him; he is very + fond of me.” + </p> + <p> + The girls stole across the grass. The dew lay heavy on it; their footsteps + made no sound. Presently they reached the front of the house, and Pilot, + with a deep bay, flew to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Pilot! Pilot! quiet; good dog!” said Molly. She went on her knees, flung + her arms round the dog, and began to whisper in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “He understands,” she said, looking up at Nora. The great creature seemed + to do so; he wagged his feathery tail from side to side and accompanied + the girls as far as the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Now, go home, go home,” said Molly. She then took Nora's hand, and they + ran down the road in the direction of the village. + </p> + <p> + “If it were not that you are so miserable I should enjoy this awfully,” + said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “But how do you mean to wake Stephie?” asked Nora at last. + </p> + <p> + “Well, luckily for us, her aunt, Miss Truefitt, is rather deaf. Miss + Truefitt has a bedroom at the back of the house, and Stephanotie sleeps in + front. I shall fling gravel at the window. There is not a soul, as you + see, in the streets. It's well that it is such a quiet place; it will + serve our purpose all the better.” + </p> + <p> + They now found themselves outside Miss Truefitt's house. Molly took up a + handful of gravel and flung it in a great shower at Stephanotie's window. + Both girls then waited eagerly for a response. At first there was none; + once again Molly threw the gravel. + </p> + <p> + “I do hope she will wake soon,” she said, turning to Nora; “that gravel + makes a great noise, and some of the neighbors may pop out their heads to + see what is the matter. There! I saw a flicker of light in the room. She + is thinking it is thieves; she won't for a single moment imagine that we + are here. I do hope Miss Truefitt won't awaken; it will be all up with us + if she does.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it won't,” said Nora; “there's not a person in this place I could + not get to help me in a cause like this. The one who is absolutely + invulnerable, who cannot be moved, because she imagines herself to be + right, is your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “There's Stephie at the window now,” said Molly. A little figure in a + night-dress was seen peeping out. + </p> + <p> + “It's us, Stephie. Let us in; it's most awfully important,” whispered + Molly's voice in deep sepulchral tones from below. + </p> + <p> + “But say, what's the matter?” called Stephanotie, opening her window and + popping out her curly head. + </p> + <p> + “I can't talk to you in the street. Slip down and open the hall-door and + let us in,” said Molly. “It's most vital.” + </p> + <p> + “It's life or death,” whispered Nora. There was something in Nora's + tremulous tones which touched Stephanotie, and at the same time stimulated + her curiosity to such an extent that she flew into her clothes, dashing + about perfectly reckless of the fact that she was making a loud noise; + but, luckily for her, Miss Truefitt was deaf and the servants slept in a + remote part of the old house. Soon Stephanotie was tumbling downstairs, + the chain was taken off the door, and the two girls were admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I take you?” said Stephanotie. “It's all as dark as pitch. + You know Aunt Vi won't hear of gas in the house. But stay, we can go into + the dining room. I suppose you can tell me by the light of a solitary + glim.” As she spoke she pointed to the candle which she was holding high + above her head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, or with no light at all,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + Stephanotie now opened the door of the dining room, and the three girls + entered. Stephanotie placed the candle on the table and turned and faced + them. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “what's up? What do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to lend me all the money you have,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “All the money I have—good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jehoshaphat! be quick about it,” said Molly. “We cannot stand here + talking; we want to catch the very next train to town.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should I lend you all the money I have?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll tell her, Nora; don't you speak,” said Molly. “Nora's father has + been awfully hurt; he was shot at from behind a hedge by some scoundrel in + Ireland. A telegram came to-day about him to mother, and mother won't take + Nora to Ireland unless her father is in danger, and Nora is determined to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'd about do the same,” said Stephanotie, nodding her head. “If + poppa was shot at from behind a hedge, I guess there's nothing would keep + me away from him. But is it for that you want the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Nora, plunging her hands into the depths of her black bag; + “there's only eight shillings and five-pence here, and I can't get to + Ireland with that.” + </p> + <p> + “Haul out the spoil,” said Molly; “make no bones about it. I'm going with + Nora, because the child isn't fit to travel alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You coming with me?” said Nora. “I didn't know that.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean to leave you, my dear, until I see you safe in the midst of + your family; besides, I have a bit of curiosity with regard to that + wonderful old place of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's lost, the place is quite lost,” said Nora, remembering for the + first time since the blow had fallen the feather-bed condition of Castle + O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “Well, lost or found, I'd like to have a peep at it,” said Molly; “so fork + out the spoil, Stephie, and be quick.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, of course,” said Stephanotie. “But how much do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “All you possess, my dear; you cannot give us more than all you possess.” + </p> + <p> + “And when am I likely to have it back?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as if that mattered,” said Molly; “the thing is to get Nora home. You + won't be any the worse for this, if that is what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am not really thinking of that; but my school fees have to be paid, + and the money only came from America two days ago for the purpose. You + know Aunt Vi is very poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor or rich, don't keep us waiting now,” said Molly. “Look at Nora. Do + you think for a single moment that your school bills matter when her heart + is breaking?” + </p> + <p> + “And you shall have the money back, Stephie, every farthing, if I die to + get it for you,” said Nora with sudden passion. + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt you, darling,” said the generous-hearted American girl. + “Well, I'll go up to my room and see what I can do.” She left the room, + ran upstairs, and quickly returned with a fat purse. It contained gold and + notes; and very soon Molly found, to her infinite delight, that it would + be by no means necessary for her and Nora to take all Stephie's wealth. + </p> + <p> + “Ten pounds will be sufficient,” said Molly. “I have not the slightest + idea what the fares to Ireland are, but I have no doubt we shall do nicely + with this sum. May we have these two five-pounds notes, Stephie?” + </p> + <p> + “You may and welcome,” said Stephanotie. “I have nearly thirty pounds + here; but it's on account of the school bills. As a rule, poppa is not + quite so generous. He says it is better for young girls like me not to + have too much money. I guess I'd eat too many bon-bons if I had a lot of + money at my disposal. But had you not better take it in gold? It is much + easier to change.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said Molly. “Holy Moses! it's you that have got the sense, + Stephie.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for the compliment,” replied Stephanotie. “Well, then, here you + are—ten sovereigns. Good luck to you both. What do you mean to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the station and find out about the trains, and start the very first + moment possible,” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “I do wish I was going with you. It would be no end of a lark.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you come?” asked Molly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I might; but there, I suppose I had better not. I must look + perfectly innocent to-morrow, or I may get into an awful scrape for this. + You must both go now, or Aunt Vi when she turns in her sleep may wake. She + turns in her sleep about three times during the night; and whenever she + turns she wakes, so she tells me. I guess it's about time for her first + turn now, so the sooner you are off the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, Stephie! I shall never, never forget your kindness,” said + Nora. She flung her arms impulsively round Stephanotie's neck, and the + next moment the girls left the house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. — ADVENTURES—AND HOME AGAIN. + </h2> + <p> + The girls now went straight to the railway station; the hour was a quarter + to twelve. They entered and asked at once if there was a train up to town. + Yes; the last train would be due in ten minutes. Molly now took the + management of affairs; she purchased a third-class ticket for herself and + another for Nora. + </p> + <p> + “If we go third-class we shall not be specially remarked,” she said. + “People always notice girls who travel first-class.” + </p> + <p> + The tickets being bought, the girls stood side by side on the platform. + Molly had put on her shabbiest hat and oldest jacket; her gloves had some + holes in them; her umbrella was rolled up in such a thick, ungainly + fashion that it looked like a gamp. Nora, however, exquisitely neat and + trim, stood by her companion's side, betraying as she did so traces of her + good birth and breeding. + </p> + <p> + “You must untidy yourself a bit when we get into the train,” said Molly. + “I'll manage it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind about my looks; the thing is to get off,” said Nora. “I'm + not a scrap afraid,” she added; “if Aunt Grace came to me now she could + not induce me to turn back; nothing but force would make me. I have got + the money, and to Ireland I will go.” + </p> + <p> + “I admire you for your determination,” said Molly. “I never knew that an + Irish girl could have so much spunk in her.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not? Aren't we about the finest race on God's earth?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, come,” said Molly; “you mustn't overdo it. Even you sometimes + carry things a trifle too far.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the train came in. There was the usual bustle of passengers + alighting and others getting in; the next moment the girls had taken their + seats in a crowded compartment and were off to town. They arrived in + London between twelve and one o'clock, and found themselves landed at + Waterloo. Now, Waterloo is not the nicest station in the world for two + very young girls to arrive at midnight, particularly when they have not + the faintest idea where to go. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go straight to the waiting room and ask the woman there what we + had best do,” said Molly, who still immensely enjoyed taking the lead. + </p> + <p> + Nora followed her companion quite willingly. Her worst fears about her + father were held in abeyance, now that she was really on her way to him. + The girls entered the waiting room. A tired-looking woman was busy putting + out the gas, and reducing the room to darkness for the night. She turned + round as the girls came in. + </p> + <p> + “I'm shutting up, ladies,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but please advise us,” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “How so, miss? What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be paid well,” said Molly, “so you need not look so angry. Can you + take us home to your place until the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” said the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll explain,” said Molly. “We're two runaways. I don't mind telling + you that we are, because it's a fact. It is important that we should leave + home. We don't want to be traced. Will you give us lodging?—any + sort. We don't mind how small the room is. We want to be at Euston at an + early hour in the morning; we are going to Holyhead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear!” said the woman; “and does this really mean money?” + </p> + <p> + “It means five shillings,” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Ten” was on Nora's lips; but Molly silenced her with a look. + </p> + <p> + “There's no use in overpaying her; she won't be half as civil,” whispered + Molly to Nora. + </p> + <p> + “It's five shillings you'll get,” she repeated in a firm voice. “Here, I + have got the change; you can look in my purse.” + </p> + <p> + “Molly opened her purse as she spoke. The woman, a Mrs. Terry by name, did + look in. She saw the shine of gold and several half-crowns. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to be sure!” she said. “But you'll promise not to get me into a + scrape?” + </p> + <p> + “We won't even ask you your name. You can let us out of the house in time + for us to catch the first train from Euston. We shall be off and away + before we are discovered.” + </p> + <p> + “And we'll remember you all our lives if you'll help us,” said Nora. Then + she added, tears filling her pretty eyes, “It's my father, please, kind + woman; he has been shot at and is very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “And who wants to keep you from your father, you poor thing?” said the + woman. “Oh, if it's that, and there's no lovers in the question, I don't + mind helping you both. It don't do for young girls to be wandering about + the streets alone at night. You come with me, honeys. I can't take you for + nothing, but I'll give you supper and breakfast, and the best bed I can, + for five shillings.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, in Mrs. Terry's company, the two girls left Waterloo Station. + She walked down a somewhat narrow side-street, crossed another, and they + presently found themselves in a little, old-fashioned square. The square + was very old indeed, belonging to quite a dead-and-gone period of the + world. The woman stopped at a house which once had been large and stately; + doubtless in days gone by it had sheltered goodly personages and had + listened to the laughter of the rich and well-to-do; but in its old age + the house was let out in tenements, and Mrs. Terry owned a couple of rooms + at the very top. + </p> + <p> + She took the girls up the dirty stairs, opened the door of a not + uncomfortable sitting room, and ushered them in. + </p> + <p> + “There now, honeys,” she said; “the best I can do for you both is the sofa + for one and my bed for the other.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Nora, “we would not dream of taking your bed; and, for that + matter, I could not sleep,” she added. “If you will let me have a couple + of chairs I shall lie down on them and wait as best I can until the + morning. Oh, I have often done it at home and thought it great fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must each have a bit of supper first; it don't do for young + girls to go to bed hungry, more particularly when they have a journey + before them. I'll get you some bread and cheese and a glass of milk each—unless, + indeed, you would prefer beer?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, we would much rather have milk,” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + The woman bustled about, and soon came in with a jug of milk, a couple of + glasses, some bread, and some indifferent butter. + </p> + <p> + “You can have the cheese if you really want it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No; this will do beautifully,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Well then, my dears, I'll leave you now for the night. The lamp will burn + all night. It will be lonely for young girls to be in the dark; and I'll + promise to call you at five o'clock. There's a train leaves Euston between + six and seven that you had better catch, unless you want them as is + hindering you from flight to stop you. I am interested in this poor young + lady who wants to see her father.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you; you are a perfect darling!” said Nora. “I'll come and see + you some day when I am happy again, and tell you all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless your kind heart, honey! I'm glad to be able to do something for + those who are in trouble. Now then, lie down and have a bit of sleep. I'll + wake you sure and certain, and you shan't stir, the two of you, until you + have had a hot cup of tea each.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Terry was as good as her word. She called the girls in good time, and + gave them quite a comfortable breakfast before they started. The tea was + hot; the bread was good—what else did they want? + </p> + <p> + Nora awoke from a very short and broken slumber. + </p> + <p> + “Soon I shall be back again,” she thought. “No matter how changed and + ruined the place is, I shall be with him once more. Oh, my darling, my + heart's darling, I shall kiss you again! Oh! I am happy at the thought.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Terry herself accompanied them to Euston. It was too early to get a + cab; she asked them if they were good walkers. They said they were. She + took them by the shortest routes; and, somewhat tired, but still full of a + strange exultation, they found themselves at the great station. Mrs. Terry + saw them into their train, and with many loudly uttered blessings started + them on their journey. She would not touch anything more than the five + shillings, and tears were in her eyes as she looked her last at them. + </p> + <p> + “God bless them, and particularly that little Irish girl. Haven't she just + got the cunningest, sweetest way in all the world?” thought the good + woman. “I do hope her father will be better when she gets to him. Don't + she love him just!” + </p> + <p> + Yes, it had been the most daring scheme, the wildest sort of adventure, + for two girls to undertake, and yet it was crowned with success. They were + too far on their journey for Mrs. Hartrick, however much she might wish + it, to rescue them. She might be as angry as she pleased; but nothing now + could get them back. She accordingly did the very best thing she could do—telegraphed + to Mr. Hartrick to say that they had absolutely run away, but begged of + him to meet them in Dublin. This the good man did. He met them both on the + pier, received them quietly, without much demonstration; but then, looking + into Nora's anxious face, his own softened. + </p> + <p> + “You have come, Nora, and against my will,” he said. “Are you sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit, Uncle George,” she answered. “I would have come against the + wills of a thousand uncles if father were ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have nothing to say,” he answered, with a smile, “at least to you; + but, Molly, I shall have something to talk to you about presently.” + </p> + <p> + “It was very good of you to meet us, father. Was mother terribly angry?” + </p> + <p> + “What could you expect her to be? You have behaved very badly.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so. I did the only possible thing to save Nora's heart from + breaking.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” said Mr. Hartrick slowly, “that you all think of nothing + but the heart of Nora. I am almost sorry now that I ever asked her to come + to us in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's home again; it's home again!” cried the Irish girl as she paced + up and down the platform. “Molly, do listen to the brogue. Isn't it just + delicious? Come along, and let's talk to this poor old Irish beggar.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but he doesn't look at all pleasant,” said Molly, backing a little. + </p> + <p> + “Bless the crayther, but he is pleasant,” said Nora. “I must go and have a + chat with him.” She caught hold of Molly's hand, and dragged her to the + edge of the pavement, where an old man, with almost blind eyes, was seated + in front of a large basket of rosy apples. + </p> + <p> + “And how are you this morning, father?” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, it's the top of the morning to yez, honey,” was the instant + reply. “And how is yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well indeed,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Then it's I that am delighted to see yez, though see yez I can't. Oh, + then, I hope that it's a long life and plenty you'll have before you, my + sweet, dear, illigant young lady—a good bed to lie on, and plenty to + eat and drink. If you has them, what else could ail yez? Good-by to yez; + good-by to yez.” + </p> + <p> + Nora slipped a couple of pence into his hand. + </p> + <p> + “The blessings of the Vargin and all the Saints be on your head, miss. Oh! + it's I that am glad to see yez. God's blessing on yez a thousand times.” + </p> + <p> + Nora took the old man's hand and wrung it. He raised the white little hand + to his lips and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “There now,” he said, “I have kissed yez; and these lips shan't see wather + again for many a long day—that they shan't. I wouldn't wash off the + taste of your hand, honey, for a bag of yellow gold.” + </p> + <p> + “What an extraordinary man!” said Molly. “Have you known him all your + life?” + </p> + <p> + “Known him all my life!” said Nora. “Never laid eyes on him before; that's + the way we always talk to one another. Oh, I can tell you we love each + other here in Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems so,” answered Molly, in some astonishment. “Dear me! if you + address a total stranger so, how will you speak to those you really love?” + </p> + <p> + “You wait and see,” answered Nora, her dark-blue eyes shining, and a mist + of tears dimming their brightness; “you wait and see. Ah, it's past words + we are sometimes; but you wait and you'll soon see.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. O'Shanaghgan was pronounced better, although Mr. Hartrick had to admit + that he was weak and fretful; and, now that Nora had come, it was + extremely likely that her presence would do her father a sight of good. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it, Uncle George,” she answered as they seated themselves in the + railway carriage preparatory to going back to O'Shanaghgan—“I knew + it, and that was why I came. You, uncle, are very wise,” she added; “and + yours is a beautiful, neat, orderly country; and you are very kind, and + very clever; and you have been awfully good to the Irish girl—awfully + good; and she is very ignorant; and you know a great deal; but one thing + she does know best, and that is, the love and the longing in the heart of + her own dear father. Oh, hurrah! I'm home again; I'm home again! Erin go + bragh! Erin go bragh!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE WILD IRISH. + </h2> + <p> + The somewhat slow Irish train jogged along its way; it never put itself + out, did that special train, starting when it pleased, and arriving when + it chose at its destination. Its guard, Jerry by name, was of a like mind + with itself; there was no hurry about Jerry; he took the world “aisy,” as + he expressed it. + </p> + <p> + “What's the good of fretting?” he used to say. “What can't be cured must + be endured. I hurry no man's cattle; and my train, she goes when she + likes, and I aint going to hurry her, not I.” + </p> + <p> + On one occasion Jerry was known to remark to a somewhat belated traveler: + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, miss, is it hurrying ye are to meet the train? Why, then, you + can take your time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jerry!” said this anxious person, fixing her eyes on his face in + great excitement, “I forgot a most important parcel at a shop half a mile + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Run and fetch it, then, honey,” replied Jerry, “and I'll keep her a bit + longer.” + </p> + <p> + This the lady accordingly did. When she returned, the heads of all the + other angry passengers were out of the windows expostulating with Jerry as + to the cause of the delay. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up, miss,” he said then. He popped her into a compartment, and she, + as he called the train, moved slowly out of the station. + </p> + <p> + At times, too, without the smallest provocation, Jerry would stop this + special train because a little “pigeen” had got off one of the trucks and + was running along the line. He and the porter shouted and raced after the + animal, caught it, and brought it back to the train. On another occasion + he calmly informed a rather important passenger, “Ye had best get out + here, for she's bust.” “She” happened to be the engine. + </p> + <p> + Into this train now got English Molly and Irish Nora. Mr. Hartrick + pronounced it quite the vilest service he had ever traveled by. He began + to grumble the moment he got into the train. + </p> + <p> + “It crawls,” he said; “and it absolutely has the cheek to call itself an + express.” + </p> + <p> + But Nora, with her head out of the window, was shouting to Jerry, who came + toward her full of blessings, anxious to shake her purty white hand, and + telling her that he was as glad as a shower of gould to have her back + again in the old country. + </p> + <p> + At last, however, the slow, very slow journey came to an end; and just + after sunset the party found themselves at the little wayside station. + Here a sight met Nora's eyes which displeased her exceedingly. Instead of + the old outside car which her father used to drive, with the shabby old + retainer, whose livery had long ago seen its best days, there arrived a + smart groom, in the newest of livery, with a cockade in his hat. He + touched his hat respectfully to Mr. Hartrick, and gave a quick glance + round at Nora and Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Is the brougham outside, Dennis?” was Mr. Hartrick's response. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; it has been waiting for half an hour; the train is a bit late, + as usual, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not tell me that this train is ever in time,” said Mr. Hartrick. + “Well, girls, come along; I told Dennis to meet us, and here we are.” + </p> + <p> + Molly thought nothing at all of the neat brougham, with its pair of + spirited grays; she was accustomed to driving in the better-class of + carriage all her life; but Nora turned first pale and then crimson. She + got into the carriage, and sat back in a corner; tears were brimming to + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “This is the first. How am I to bear all the rest?” she said to herself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick, who had hoped that Nora would be pleased with the brougham, + with Dennis himself, with the whole very stylish get-up, was mortified at + her silence, and, taking her hand, tried to draw her out. + </p> + <p> + “Well, little girl,” he said, “I hope you will like the improvements I + have made in the Castle. I have done it all at your instigation, + remember.” + </p> + <p> + “At my instigation?” cried Nora. “Oh, no, Uncle George, that you have + not.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in some amazement, then closed his lips, and said nothing + more. Molly longed to get her father alone, in order to explain Nora's + peculiar conduct. + </p> + <p> + “It is difficult for an Englishman to understand her,” thought Molly. “I + do, and I think her altogether charming; but father, who has gone to this + enormous expense and trouble, will be put out if she does not show a + little gratitude. I will tell her that she must; I will take the very + first opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + And now they were turning in at the well-known gates. These gates were + painted white, whereas they had been almost reduced to their native wood. + The avenue was quite tidy, no weeds anywhere; but Nora almost refused to + look out. One by one the familiar trees seemed to pass by her as she was + bowled rapidly along in the new brougham, as if they were so many ghosts + saying good-by. But then there was the roar—the real, real, grand + roar—of the Atlantic in her ears. No amount of tidiness, nothing + could ever alter that sound. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hurrah for the sea!” she said. She flung down the window and popped + out her head. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick nodded to Molly. “She will see a great deal more to delight + her than just the old ocean,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Molly was silent. They arrived at the house; the butler was standing on + the steps, a nice, stylish-looking Englishman, in neat livery. He came + down, opened the carriage door, let down the steps, and offered his arm to + Nora to alight; but she pushed past him, bounded up the steps, and the + next moment found herself in her mother's arms. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, my dear Nora?” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. “I am glad to see + you, dear, but also surprised. You acted in your usual headstrong + fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, another time, mother. Mummy, how are you? I am glad to see you again; + but don't scold me now; just wait. I'll bear it all patiently another + time. How is the dad, mummy?—how is the dad?” + </p> + <p> + “Your father is doing nicely, Nora; there was not the slightest occasion + for you to hurry off and give such trouble and annoyance.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose I have given annoyance to father,” said Nora. “Where is + he—in his old room?” + </p> + <p> + “No; we moved him upstairs to the best bedroom. We thought it the wisest + thing to do; he was in considerable pain.” + </p> + <p> + “The best bedroom? Which is the best bedroom?” said Nora. “Your room, + mummy?” + </p> + <p> + “The room next to mine, darling. And just come and have a look at the + drawing room, Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to father first,” said Nora. “Don't keep me; I can't stay.” + </p> + <p> + She forgot Molly; she forgot her uncle; she even forgot her mother. In a + moment she was bounding upstairs over those thick Axminster carpets—those + awful carpets, into which her feet sank—down a corridor, also + heavily lined with Axminster, past great velvet curtains, which seemed to + stifle her as she pushed them aside, and the next instant she had burst + open a door. + </p> + <p> + In the old days this room had been absolutely destitute of furniture. In + the older days again it had been the spare room of Castle O'Shanaghgan. + Here hospitality had reigned; here guests of every degree had found a + hearty welcome, an invitation to stay as long as they pleased, and the + best that the Castle could afford for their accommodation. When Nora had + left O'Shanaghgan, the only thing that had remained in the old room was a + huge four-poster. Even the mattress from this old bed had been removed; + the curtains had been taken from the windows; the three great windows were + bare of both blinds and curtains. Now a soft carpet covered the entire + floor; a neat modern Albert bed stood in a recess; there were heavy + curtains to the windows, and Venetian blinds, which were so arranged as to + temper the light. But the light of the sunset had already faded, and it + was twilight when Nora popped her wild, excited little face round the + door. + </p> + <p> + In the bed lay a gaunt figure, unshaven, with a beard of a week's growth. + Two great eyes looked out of caverns, then two arms were stretched out, + and Nora was clasped to her father's breast. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then, I have you again; may God be praised for all His mercies,” said + the Squire in a great, deep hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + Nora lay absolutely motionless for nearly half a minute in his arms, then + she raised herself. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she said, “that was good. I hungered for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And I also hungered for it, my darling,” said the Squire. “Let me look at + you, Light o' the Morning; get a light somehow, and let me see your bonny, + bonny, sweet, sweet face.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there's a fire in the grate,” said Nora. “Are there any matches?” + </p> + <p> + “Matches, bedad!” said the Squire; “there's everything that's wanted. It's + perfectly horrible. They are in a silver box, too, bedad! What do we want + with it? Twist up a bit of paper, do, Nora, like a good girl, and light + the glim the old way.” + </p> + <p> + Nora caught at her father's humor at once. She had already flung off her + hat and jacket. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I will,” she said, “and with all the heart in the world.” She + tore a long strip from the local paper, which was lying on a chair near + by, twisted it, lit it in the fire, and then applied it to a candle. + </p> + <p> + “Only light one candle, for the love of heaven, child,” said the Squire. + “I don't want to see too many of the fal-lals. Now then, that's better; + bring the light up to the bed. Oh, what I have suffered with curtains, and + carpets, and—-” + </p> + <p> + “It's too awful, father,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “That's it, child. That's the first cheery word I have heard for the last + six weeks—too awful I should think it is. They are smothering me + between them, Nora. I shall never get up and breathe the free air again; + but when you came in you brought a breath of air with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's open the window. There's a gale coming up, We'll have some air,” + said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, Light o' the Morning, they say I'll get bronchitis if the + window is opened.” + </p> + <p> + “They! Who are they?” said Nora, with scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you wouldn't believe it, but they had a doctor down from Dublin to + see me. I don't believe he had a scrap of real Irish blood in him, for he + said I was to be nursed and messed over, and gruels and all kinds of + things brought to my bedside—I who would have liked a fine potato + with a pinch of salt better than anything under the sun.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have your potato and your pinch of salt now that I am back,” said + Nora. “I mean to be mistress of this room.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire gave a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it lovely to hear her?” he said. “Don't it do me a sight of good? + There, open the window wide, Nora, before your mother comes in. Oh, your + mother is as pleased as Punch, and for her sake I'd bear a good deal; but + I am a changed man. The old times are gone, never to return. Call this + place Castle O'Shanaghgan. It may be suitable for an English nobleman to + live in, but it's not my style; it's not fit for an Irish squire. We are + free over here, and we don't go in for luxuries and smotherations.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, father, I had to go through a great deal of that in England,” said + Nora. “It's awful to think that sort of life has come here; but there—there's + the window wide open. Do you feel a bit of a breeze, dad?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do; let me breathe it in. Prop me up in bed, Nora. They said + I was to lie flat on my back, but, bedad! I won't now that you have come + back.” + </p> + <p> + Nora pushed some pillows under her father, and sat behind him to support + him, and at last she got him to sit up in bed with his face turned to the + wide-open window. + </p> + <p> + The blinds were rattling, the curtains were being blown into the room, and + the soft, wild sound of the sea fell on his ears. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I'm better now,” he said; “my lungs are cleared at bit. You had best + shut the window before your lady-mother comes in. And put the candle so + that I can't see the fal-lals too much,” he continued; “but place it so + that I can gaze at your bonny face.” + </p> + <p> + “You must tell me how you were hurt, father, and where.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad! then, I won't—not to-night. I want to have everything as + cheerful as possible to-night. My little girl has come back—the joy + of my heart, the light of my eyes, the top of the morning, and I'm not + going to fret about anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't—you needn't,” said Nora. “Oh! it is good to see you + again. There never was anybody like you in all the world. And you were + longing for Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't you be fishing.” + </p> + <p> + “But you were—wern't you?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure—to be sure. Here, then, let me grip hold of your little + hand. I never saw such a tiny little paw. And so they haven't made a fine + English lady of you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not they,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “And you ran away to see your old dad? Why, then, you have the spirit of + the old O'Shanaghgans in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Horses would not have kept me from you,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “I might have known as much. How I laughed when your mother brought in the + telegram from your Aunt Grace this morning! And weren't they in a fuss, + and wasn't your Uncle George as cross as he could be, and your mother + rampaging up and down the room until I said, 'If you want to bring on the + fever, you'll go on like that, Ellen; and then she went out, and I heard + her talking to your uncle in the passage. Clap, clap went their tongues. I + never knew anything like English people; they never talk a grain of + anything amusing; that's the worst of it. Why, it's the truth I'm telling + you, darling; I haven't had a hearty laugh since you left home. I'll do + fine now. When they were out of the room didn't I give way! I gave two + loud guffaws, that I did, when I thought of the trick you had played them. + Ah, you're a true daughter of the old race!” + </p> + <p> + Nora nestled up to her father, squeezing his hand now and then, and + looking into his face. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have a fine time to-morrow, and the next day, and the next day, and + the next,” she said. “Oh! I am determined to be near you. But isn't there + one little place in the house left bare, father, where we can go and have + a happy moment?” + </p> + <p> + “Never a square inch,” said the Squire, looking at her solemnly. “It's too + awful; even the attics have been cleared out and put in order, for the + servants, forsooth! says your Uncle George.” + </p> + <p> + “What do we want so many retainers for? I am sure, now, if they would take + a good houseful of some of the poor villagers and plant them up in those + attics, there would be some sense in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nora, couldn't we get a bit of a place just like the old place, all + to ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll think it over,” said Nora; “we'll manage somehow. We can't stand + feather-beds for ever and ever, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Hark to her,” said the Squire; “you're a girl after my own heart, Light + o' the Morning, and it's glad I am to see you, and to have you back + again.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. — ALTERATIONS. + </h2> + <p> + While Nora and her father were talking together there came a sound of a + ponderous gong through the house. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” said Nora, starting. + </p> + <p> + “You may well ask 'What's that?'” replied the Squire. “It's the + dinner-gong. There's dinner now in the evening, bedad! and up to seven + courses, by the same token. I sat out one or two of them; but, bless my + soul! I couldn't stand too much of that sort of thing. You had best go and + put on something fine. Your mother dresses in velvet and silk and jewels + for dinner. She looks wonderful; she is a very fine woman indeed, is your + mother. I am as proud as Punch of her; but, all the same, it is too much + to endure every day. She is dressed for all the world as though she were + going to a ball at the Lord-Lieutenant's in Dublin. It's past standing; + but you had best go down and join 'em, Norrie.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I. I am going to stay here,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, darling pet; you had best go down, enjoy your dinner, and come + back and tell me about it. It will be fun to hear your description. You + mimic 'em as much as you like, Norrie; take 'em off. Now, none of your + coaxing and canoodling ways; off you go. You shall come back later on, and + tell me all about it. Oh, they are stiff and stately, and they'll never + know you and I are laughing at 'em up our sleeves. Now, be off with you.” + </p> + <p> + So, unwillingly, Nora went. In the corridor outside she met her cousin + Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you haven't begun to dress yet,” said Molly; “and I'm going down to + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Bother dress!” said Nora. “I am home again. Mother can't expect me to + dress.” She rushed past her cousin. She was too excited to have any + sympathy then with English Molly. She ran up to her own room, and stood + with a sense of dismay on the threshold. It had always been a beautiful + room, with its noble proportions and its splendid view; and it was now + furnished exquisitely as well. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had great taste. She had taken immense pains with Nora's + room; had thought it all out, and got it papered and painted after a + scheme of color of her own. The furniture was of light wood—the room + was fit to be the bower of a gracious and lovely maiden; there were new + books in the little bookcase hanging up by the bedside. Everything was new + and everything was beautiful. There was no sense of bad taste about the + room; it was furnished harmoniously. + </p> + <p> + Nora stood and gazed at it, and her heart sank. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is kind of mother; it is beautiful,” she said to herself; “but am + I never, never, never to lie down in the little old bed again? Am I never + to pour water out of the cracked old jug? Am I never to look at myself in + the distorted glass? Oh, dear! oh, dear! how I did love looking at myself + in the old glass, which made one cheek much more swollen than the other, + and one eyebrow went up a quarter of an inch above the other, and my mouth + was a little crooked! It is perfectly horrid to know one's self all one's + life long with a swollen cheek and a crooked mouth, and then see classical + features without a scrap of fun in them. Oh, dear! But I suppose I had + best get ready.” + </p> + <p> + So Nora washed her face and hands, and ran downstairs. The dining room + looked heavy and massive, and the footman and the butler attended + noiselessly; and Mr. Hartrick at the foot of the table and Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan at the head looked as stately a pair as could be found in the + length and breadth of the land. + </p> + <p> + Molly, nicely dressed in her dinner-frock, was quite in keeping with the + elder pair; but wild Nora, still wearing her gray traveling-dress, felt + herself out of place. Her cheeks were flushed with the excitement of + seeing her father; her hair was wild and disarranged. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan + looked at her all over with marked disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she looks scarcely pretty,” thought the mother to herself. “How + tired and fagged she appears! Dear, dear! if after all the trouble I have + gone to, Nora disappoints me in this way, life will really not be worth + living.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. O'Shanaghgan could scarcely suppress the joy which was now + filling her life. She was the mistress of a noble home; she was at the + head of quite the finest establishment in the county. Already all the best + county folk had called upon her several times. + </p> + <p> + It is sad to state that these great and rich people had rather neglected + the lady of the Castle during the last few years; but now that she drove + about behind a pair of horses, that her house was refurnished, that wealth + seemed to have filled all her coffers, she was certainly worth attending + to. + </p> + <p> + “Now that you have come back, Nora,” said her mother in the course of the + meal, “I wish to say that I have several invitations for you, and that + Molly can accept too.” She looked with kindness at Molly, who, if only + Nora had been happy, would have thoroughly enjoyed herself. + </p> + <p> + “I must show you the drawing room after dinner, my dear,” said her mother. + “It is really a magnificent room. And I must also show you my morning + room, and the library, and your father's smoking room.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a splendid house, you know, Ellen,” said Mr. Hartrick to his + sister, “and pays for doing up. Why, a house like this in any habitable + part of England would fetch a colossal fortune.” + </p> + <p> + Nora sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Molly glanced at her, and the word + “Jehoshaphat!” was almost trembling on her lips. She kept it back, + however; she was wonderfully on her good behavior to-night. At last the + long and dreary meal came to an end. Nora could scarcely suppress her + yawns of utter weariness. She began to think of nothing but lying down, + shutting her eyes, and going into a long and dreamless slumber. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan rose from the table and sailed out of the room. A + footman flung open the door for her, and Nora and Molly followed in her + wake. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be with you presently in the drawing room, Ellen,” said Mr. Hartrick + to his sister; “but first of all I'll just go up and have a smoke with + O'Shanaghgan. You found your father much better to-night, did you not, + Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought father looked very bad indeed,” said Nora. She could not add + another word; she went out into the hall. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan took her hand, squeezing it up in a tight pressure. + </p> + <p> + “You ought not to speak in that tone to your uncle,” she said; “you can + never, never know all that he has done for us. He is the noblest, the most + generous, the best man in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know all that, mother; I know all that,” said Nora. She did not + add, “But for me he would never have done it. It was I who inserted the + thin edge of the wedge.” Her tone was gentle; her mother looked at her + with a softening of her own face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear,” she said, “your Uncle George has taken a great fancy to you. + Notwithstanding your eccentricities, Nora—and they are considerable—he + says you have the making of a fine girl. But come, we must not neglect + your cousin. Come here, dear Molly; you and Nora will be interested in + seeing what a beautiful place Castle O'Shanaghgan is now.” + </p> + <p> + Molly took hold of Nora's other hand, and they entered the drawing room. + It was lit with soft candles in many sconces; the blinds were down; across + the windows were drawn curtains of Liberty silk of the palest, softest + shade of rose. On the floor was a carpet of many soft colors cunningly + mingled. The walls were painted a pale artistic green, large mirrors were + introduced here and there, and old family portraits, all newly framed, of + dead and gone O'Shanaghgans, hung on the painted walls. There were new + tables, knick-knacks—all the various things which constitute the + drawing room of an English lady. + </p> + <p> + Nora felt for one brief, passionate, angry moment that she was back again + at The Laurels; but then, seeing the light in her mother's eyes, the pink + flush of happiness on her cheeks, she restrained herself. + </p> + <p> + “It makes you happy, mummy,” she said, “and——” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you think of it, my darling?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very beautiful room.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is right. I thought my little wildflower would appreciate all + these things when she came back again. Ah, Nora! you have been a naughty, + wild imp; but your father was delighted when he heard what you had done. + Of course I am terribly angry.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are not, mummy; you are pleased to see me again.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to have you back, Nora; but as to being pleased, how could I + be? However, you can stay here for a fortnight or so now that you have + come; and then, when your dear uncle leaves us, you and Molly can go back + with him.” + </p> + <p> + Nora did not say anything; but a stubborn look came into her face which + her mother knew of old. + </p> + <p> + From the drawing room they went to the library, which had also undergone + complete rejuvenation. The walls were laden with standard works of + different kinds; but some of the shelves were still empty. + </p> + <p> + “The old books, your uncle says, were of great value,” said Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan, “and he sent them all to Dublin to be rebound. They have not + come back yet. They are to be bound in old calf, and will suit the rest of + the room. Is it not a magnificent apartment?” + </p> + <p> + Nora said “Yes” in a somewhat dreamy voice. + </p> + <p> + They then went to her mother's morning-room, and then on to the Squire's + smoking-room. + </p> + <p> + “They might at least have left this alone,” thought the girl. “They might + at least have left this one room, where he could retire when he felt quite + choked by all the furniture in the rest of the place.” + </p> + <p> + But even the Squire's smoking-room was changed into the smoking-room of an + English gentleman. There were deep easy-chairs covered with leather; there + were racks for pipes, and great brass dogs before the fireplace; on the + floor was a thick carpet. Nora felt as if she longed to give it a savage + kick. + </p> + <p> + At last the terrible ordeal of going through the—to her, utterly + ruined—house was over, and she and Molly found themselves alone. + </p> + <p> + “I will go up to your father for a few minutes,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, + nodding to Nora. “You and your cousin will like to have a chat; and then, + my dears, I should recommend you both to go to bed as early as possible.” + </p> + <p> + When they were back again in the big drawing room Nora gave Molly a wild + look. + </p> + <p> + “Come out,” she said; “at least out of doors the air is the same as of + old.” + </p> + <p> + Molly caught up a shawl and wrapped it round her head; but Nora went out + just as she was. + </p> + <p> + “You'll catch cold,” said English Molly. + </p> + <p> + “I catch cold in my native land!” replied Irish Nora. “How little you know + me! Oh, come, Molly, I am going to be wild; I am going to give way.” + </p> + <p> + They both stepped outside on the broad gravel sweep. The moon was up, and + it was shining over everything. In the moonlight Castle O'Shanaghgan + looked very much as it had done before. The moon had always glorified the + old place, and it glorified it still. Nora stood and gazed around her; up + to the tops of the mountains, with their dark summits clearly defined + against the evening sky; across the wide breadth of the Atlantic; over the + thick plantations, the fields, and the huge trees in the background. + </p> + <p> + “It's all the same,” she said, with a glad laugh; “thank God it is all the + same. Even your father, Molly, cannot destroy the place outside, at + least.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh Nora, it is such a lovely, lovely place!” said Molly. “Cannot you be + happy in it with its modern dress?” + </p> + <p> + “Happy,” said Nora, suddenly brought back to her sense of misery by the + word. “I am thankful that my father is not so ill; but—but you must + help, Molly. Promise that you will.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I'd do anything in the world,” said Molly. “I think I have been + very good to-day. I have kept in my naughty words, Jehoshaphat and Moses + and Elephants, and all the rest. What do you want me to do, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “We must get him out of that room,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Him? You mean your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he will never recover there. I have been thinking and thinking, and + I'll have my plan ready by the morning; only you must help me. I'll get + Hannah Croneen to come in, and we'll do it between us if you can help me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it?” said Molly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you in the morning; you wait and see.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. — THE LION IN HIS CAGE. + </h2> + <p> + The Squire was better, and not better. He had received a very nasty + flesh-wound in the thigh; but the bullet had been extracted. There was not + the slightest clew to the identity of his would-be murderer. The Squire + himself had said nothing. He had been found almost bleeding to death by + the roadside; the alarm had been given, and in terror and consternation + his own tenants had brought him home. + </p> + <p> + The Squire could have said a good deal, but he said nothing. The police + came and asked him questions, but he kept his lips closed. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't see the man,” he said after a pause. “Somebody fired, of course; + but I can't tell who, for I saw no one; it was from behind the hedge. Why + the scoundrel who wanted to do for me didn't shoot a little higher up + puzzles me. But there, let it rest—let it rest.” + </p> + <p> + And the neighbors and the country had to let it rest, for there was no + evidence against anyone. Amongst those who came to inquire after the + Squire was Andy Neil. He came often, and was full of commiseration, and + loudly cursed the brute who had very nearly done for his old landlord. But + the neighbors had suspicions with regard to Andy, for he had been turned + out of his cot in the mountains, and was living in the village now. They + scowled at him when he passed, and turned aside; and his own face looked + more miserable than ever. Still, he came daily up to the big kitchen to + inquire for the Squire. + </p> + <p> + The doctor said there was no reason whatever why Mr. O'Shanaghgan should + not get quite well. He was by no means old—not more than fifty; + there was not the slightest occasion for a break-down, and yet, to all + appearance, a break-down there was. The Squire got morose; he hardly ever + smiled; even Nora's presence scarcely drew a hearty guffaw from his lips. + The doctors were puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “What can be wrong?” they said. But Nora herself knew very well what was + wrong. She and her father were the only ones who did know. She knew that + the old lion was dying in captivity; that he was absolutely succumbing to + the close and smothered life which he was now leading. He wanted the free + air of his native mountains; he wanted the old life, now gone for ever, + back again. + </p> + <p> + “It is true the place is saved, Norrie,” he said once to his daughter, + “and I haven't a word to say. I would be the most ungrateful dog in + existence if I breathed a single word of complaint. The place is saved; + and though it nominally belongs now to your Uncle George, to all intents + and purposes it is my place, and he gives me to understand that at my + death it goes to my boy. Yes, he has done a noble deed, and of course I + admire him immensely.” + </p> + <p> + “And so do I, father,” said Nora; but she looked thoughtful and troubled; + and one day, after she had been in her father's room for some time, when + she met her uncle in the avenue she spoke to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear girl,” he said, “what about coming back with me to England + when I go next week?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not to be thought of, Uncle George. How can I leave my father while + he is ill?” + </p> + <p> + “That is true. I have been thinking about him. The doctors are a little + distressed at his growing weakness. They cannot quite understand it. + Tonics have been given to him and every imaginable thing has been done. He + wants for nothing; his nourishment is of the best; still he makes no way. + It is puzzling.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, my dear girl?” + </p> + <p> + “You might do all that sort of thing for an eagle, you know,” said Nora, + raising her clear eyes and fixing them on her uncle's face. “You might + give him everything in his prison, much more than he had when he was free; + but, all the same, he would pine and—and he would die.” Tears rose + to the girl's eyes; she dashed them away. + </p> + <p> + “My dear little Nora, I don't in the least see the resemblance,” said Mr. + Hartrick, who felt, and perhaps justly, rather nettled. “You seem to imply + by your words that I have done your father an injury when I secured the + home of his ancestors for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, forgive me, Uncle George,” said Nora. “I don't really mean to say + anything against you, for you are just splendid.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartrick did not reply; he looked puzzled and thoughtful. Nora, after + a moment's silence, spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “I am most grateful to you. I believe you have done what is best—at + least what you think best. You have made my mother very happy, and Terence + will be so pleased; and the tenants—oh! they will get their rights + now, their cabins will be repaired, the roofs mended, the windows put in + fresh, the little gardens stocked for them. Oh, yes, you are behaving most + generously. Anyone would suppose the place belonged to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Which it does,” muttered Mr. Hartrick under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “You have made a great many people happy, only somehow—somehow it is + not quite the way to make my father happy, and it is not the way to make + me happy. But I have nothing more to say, except that I cannot leave my + father now.” + </p> + <p> + “You must come to us after Christmas, then,” said Mr. Hartrick. “I must go + back next week, and I shall probably take Molly with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! leave her with me here,” said Nora suddenly. “I do wish you would; + the air here is so healthy. Do let her stay, and then perhaps after + Christmas, when things are different, we might both go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course things will be different,” said Mr. Hartrick. “A new doctor is + coming to see your father next week, and he will probably change the <i>rĂ©gime</i>; + he may order him fresh air, and before long we shall have him strong and + well amongst us again. He has absolutely nothing wrong except——” + </p> + <p> + “Except that he has everything wrong,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, my dear child, I will think over your suggestion that Molly + should stay with you; and in the meantime remember that we are all coming + to O'Shanaghgan for Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “All of you!” said Nora in dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all of us. Your aunt has never spent a real old-fashioned Christmas + in her life, and I mean her to have it this year. I shall bring over some + of our English habits to this place. We will roast an ox whole, and have + huge bonfires, and all kinds of things, and the tenantry shall have a + right good time. There, Nora, you smile; that pleases you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are so kind,” she said. She clasped his hands in both of hers, and + then turned away. + </p> + <p> + “There never was anyone kinder,” thought the girl to herself; “but all the + same he does not understand.” She re-entered the house and went up to her + father's room. + </p> + <p> + The Squire was lying on his back. The days were now getting short, for + November had begun. There was a big fire in the grate; the Squire panted + in the hot room. + </p> + <p> + “Just come in here,” he said to Nora. “Don't make much noise; lock the + door—will you, pet?” + </p> + <p> + Nora obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Now fling the window wide open; let me get a breath of air.” + </p> + <p> + Nora did open the window, but the air was moist and damp from the + Atlantic, and even she, fearless as she was, hesitated when she heard her + father's cough. + </p> + <p> + “There, child, there,” he said; “it's the lungs beginning to work properly + again. Now then, you can shut it up; I hear a step. For Heaven's sake, + Nora, be quick, or your mother may come in, and won't she be making a + fuss! There, unlock the door.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are worse, father; you are worse.” + </p> + <p> + “What else can you expect? They don't chain up wild animals and expect + them to get well. I never lived through anything of this sort before, and + it's just smothering me.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Patrick,” she said, “would you like some sweetbread and a bit of pheasant + for your dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I'd like?” roared the Squire. “A great big mealy potato, + with a pinch of salt.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan uttered a sigh, and the color rushed into her pale + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” she said, “you are downright vulgar.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire gave a feeble guffaw. Nora's heart beat as she noticed how + feeble it was. She left the room, because she could not stay there another + moment. The time had come to act. She had hesitated long, but she would + hesitate no longer. She ran downstairs. The first person she saw was + Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Molly, “how is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Very bad indeed,” said Nora; “there's not a moment to lose. Something + must be done, and quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “What can be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Come out with me; I have a thought in my head.” + </p> + <p> + Nora and Molly went outside. They crossed the avenue, went along the + plantation at the back, and soon found themselves in the huge yard which + flanked the back of the house. In a distant part of the yard was a barn, + and this barn Nora now entered. It was untidy; the doors fitted badly; the + floor was of clay. It was quite empty. + </p> + <p> + Nora gave a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “I dreamed of this barn last night,” she said. “I think it is the very + place.” + </p> + <p> + “For what, Nora; for what?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to have father moved here to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Nora, what nonsense you are talking! You will kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “Save his life, you mean,” said Nora. “I am going to get a bedstead, a + straw paillasse, and an old hard mattress, and I am going to have them put + here; and we'll get a bit of tarpaulin to put on the floor, to prevent the + damp coming up; and I'll put a curtain across this window so that he + needn't have too much draught, the darling; and there shall be nothing + else in the room except a wooden table. He shall have his potatoes and + salt, and his bit of salt bacon, if he wishes, and he shall have his great + big bare room. I tell you what it is, Molly, he'll never get well unless + he is brought here.” + </p> + <p> + “What a girl you are! But how will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to me. Do you mind driving with me on the outside car as far as + Cronane?” + </p> + <p> + “The outside car? I have never been on it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come along; I'll introduce you to the sweetest conveyance in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + Nora's spirits rose at the thought of immediate action. + </p> + <p> + “Won't it surprise and delight him?” she said. She went up to one of the + grooms. He was an English groom, and was somewhat surprised at the + appearance of the young lady in the yard. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, miss?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I want Angus,” answered Nora. “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + Angus was one of the few old Irish servants who were still left at Castle + O'Shanaghgan. He now came forward in a sheepish kind of way; but when he + saw Nora his face lit up. + </p> + <p> + “Put one of the horses to the outside car at once—Black Bess if you + can,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss,” said the man, “with all the pleasure in life.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't take it round to the front door. Miss Molly and I want to drive to + Cronane. You needn't come with us, Angus; just put the horse to, and I'll + drive myself.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, in less than ten minutes' time the two girls were driving in + the direction of Cronane. Molly, brave as she was, had some difficulty in + keeping on. She clung to the sides of the car and panted. + </p> + <p> + “Nora, as sure as Jehoshaphat and Elephants, I'll be flung out on to the + highroad!” cried Molly. + </p> + <p> + “Sit easy and nothing will happen,” said Nora, who was seated comfortably + herself at the other side and was driving with vigor. + </p> + <p> + Presently they reached Cronane, which looked just as dilapidated as ever. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the darling place! Isn't it a relief to see it?” said Nora. “Don't I + love that gate off its hinges! It's a sight for sore eyes—that it + is.” + </p> + <p> + They dashed up the avenue and stopped before the hall door. + </p> + <p> + Standing on the steps—where, indeed, he spent most of his time—and + indulging in the luxury of an old church-warden pipe, was Squire Murphy. + He raised a shout when he saw Nora, and ran down the steps as fast as he + could. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my bit of a girl, it's good to see you!” he cried. “And who is this + young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “This is my cousin, Molly Hartrick. Molly, may I introduce you to Squire + Murphy?” + </p> + <p> + “Have a grip of the paw, miss,” said Squire Murphy, holding out his great + hand and clasping Molly's. + </p> + <p> + “And now, what can I do for you, Nora alannah? 'Tis I that am glad to see + you. There's Biddy in the house, and the wife; they'll give you a hearty + welcome, and no mistake. You come along right in, the pair of yez; come + right in.” + </p> + <p> + “But I cannot,” said Nora. “I want to speak to you alone and at once. Can + you get one of the boys to hold the horse?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure. Dan, you spalpeen! come forward this minute. Now then, hold + Black Bess, and look alive, lad. Well, Nora, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Molly stood on the gravel sweep, Nora and the Squire walked a few paces + away. + </p> + <p> + “It's this,” said Nora; “you haven't asked yet how father is.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is doing fine, they tell me. I see I'm not wanted at O'Shanaghgan; + and I'm the last man in the world to go there when the cold shoulder is + shown to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! they would never mean that,” said Nora, in distress. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't they mean it, my dear? Haven't I been up to the Castle day + after day, and asking for the Squire with my heart in my mouth, and ready + to sit by his side and to colleague with him about old times, and raise a + laugh in him, and smoke with him; and haven't I been repelled?—the + Squire not well enough to see me; madam herself not at home. Oh, I know + their ways. When you were poor at O'Shanaghgan, then Squire Murphy was + wanted; but now that you're rich, Squire Murphy can go his own way for + aught you care.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not true, Mr. Murphy,” said the girl, her bright blue eyes filling + with tears. “Oh!” she added, catching his hand impulsively, “don't I know + it all? But it's not my father's fault; he would give the world to see you—he + shall see you. Do you know why he is ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, Nora? Upon my word, you're a very handsome girl, Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind about my looks now. My father is ill because—because + of all the luxury and the riches.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, then, I'm glad to hear it,” said the Squire of Cronane. He slapped + his thigh loudly. “It's the best bit of news I have heard this many a day; + it surprised me how he could put up with it. And it's killing him?” + </p> + <p> + “That's about it,” said Nora. “He must be rescued.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do what I can,” said Squire Murphy. “Will you do this? Will you this + very day get out the long cart and have an old bedstead put into it, and + an old paillasse and an old mattress; and will you see that it is taken + over this very afternoon to O'Shanaghgan? I'll be there, and the bedstead + shall be put up in the old barn, and father shall sleep in the barn + to-night, and you and I, Squire, and Hannah Croneen, and Molly, will help + to move him while the rest of the family are at tea.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire stared at Nora so long after she had made these remarks that + she really thought he had taken leave of his senses; then he burst into a + great loud laugh, clapped his hand to his side, and wrung Nora's until she + thought he would wring it off. Then he turned back to the house, walking + so fast that Nora had to run after him. But she knew that she had found + her ally, and that her father would be saved. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. — RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVE. + </h2> + <p> + All Nora's wishes were carried into effect. The long cart was got out. An + old mattress was secured, also an old bedstead. The mattress happened to + be well aired, for, indeed, it was one on which the Squire himself had + slept the previous night; but, as he remarked, he would gladly give the + bed from under him for the sake of his old friend O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + Molly helped, also Biddy and Nora, in all the preparations, and at last + the three girls jumped upon the outside car and returned to O'Shanaghgan. + Biddy felt that she was anything but welcome. She was certainly not + looking her best. Her dress was of the shabbiest, and her turned-up nose + looked more celestial than ever. Molly was gazing at her just as if she + were a sort of curiosity, and finally Biddy resented this close scrutiny, + and turned to Nora, grasping her by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her,” said Biddy, “that it is very rude to stare in that sort of + stolid way. If she were an Irish girl she would give a flashing glance and + then look away again; but that way of staring full and stiff puts a body + out. Tell her it is not true Irish manners.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jehoshaphat!” exclaimed Molly, “I hear you both whispering together. + What is it all about? I am nearly wild trying to keep myself on this awful + car, and I know you are saying something not in my favor.” + </p> + <p> + “We are that,” cried Biddy; “we are just wishing you would keep your + English manners to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Molly flushed rather indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know that I was doing anything,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” cried Biddy, “is it nothing when you are bringing the blushes + to my cheeks and the palpitation to my heart; and is it nothing to be, as + it were, exposed to the scorn of the English? Why, then, bedad! I have got + my nose from the old Irish kings, from whom I am descended, as true as + true. Blue is my blood, and I am as proud of my ancestry as if I was Queen + Victoria herself. I see that you have neat, straight features; but you + have not got a scrap of royal blood in you—now, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” answered Molly, laughing in spite of herself. “Well, + if it offends you, I will try not to look at you again.” + </p> + <p> + The drive came to an end, and Nora entered the big, splendidly furnished + hall, accompanied by Molly and Biddy. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan happened to be + standing there. She came hurriedly forward. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Nora,” she began, but then her eyes fell upon Biddy. Her brows + went up with a satirical action; she compressed her lips and kept back a + sigh of annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Miss Murphy?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I am fine, thank you kindly, ma'am,” replied Biddy; “and it is sorry I am + that I had not time to change my dress and put on the pink one with the + elegant little flounces that my aunt sent me from Dublin.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, your present dress will do very well,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, + suppressing an internal shudder at the thought of Biddy at the renovated + Castle of O'Shanaghgan in her dirty pink dress with the flounces. + </p> + <p> + “But, Miss Murphy,” she continued, “I am sorry that I cannot ask you to + stay. The Squire is too unwell to admit of our having friends at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, glory!” cried Biddy, “and how am I to get back again? Why, it was on + your own outside car that I came across country, and I cannot walk all the + way back to Cronane. Oh, but what a truly beautiful house! I never saw + anything like it. Why, it is a sort of palace!” + </p> + <p> + Biddy's open admiration of the glories of O'Shanaghgan absolutely made the + good mistress of the mansion smile. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan felt that Nora did + not really care for the beautiful place—the grandly furnished rooms + had brought no enthusiasm or delight to her heart. Nora had tried very + hard to keep in her real feelings; but her mother was quite sharp enough + to know what they were. There was little pleasure in taking a girl round + rooms, corridors, and galleries when she was only forcing herself to say + pretty things which she did not feel. Molly, of course, had always lived + in a beautiful and well-furnished house; therefore there was nothing + exciting in showing her the present magnificence of O'Shanaghgan, and half + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's pleasure was showing the place in its now regal state + to her friends. Biddy's remark, therefore, was most fortunate. Even wild, + unkempt, untaught Irish Biddy was better than no one. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what it is,” said the good lady, with quite a gracious + expression stealing over her features, “if you will promise to walk + softly, and not to make any loud remarks, I will take you through the + suite of drawing rooms and the big dining room and my morning room; but + you must promise to be very quiet if I give you this great pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is glad I'll be, and as mum as a mouse. I'll hold my hands to my + heart, and keep in everything; but, oh, Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, if I am fit to + burst now and then, you will let me run to the window and give a big sigh? + It is all I'll ask, to relieve myself; but mum's the word for everything + else.” + </p> + <p> + On these terms Mrs. O'Shanaghgan conducted her unwelcome guest through the + rooms, and after a brief tour Biddy joined her companions in the yard. + Nora was busy sweeping out the barn herself, and, with the aid of Hannah + Croneen and Molly, was already beginning to put it to rights. Biddy was + now free to join the other conspirators, and the girls quickly became + friends under these conditions. + </p> + <p> + Hannah proved herself a most valuable ally. She whisked about, dashing + here and there, raising a whirlwind of dust, but, in Nora's opinion, + effecting wonders. Angus also was drawn into the midst of the fray. His + delight and approval of Nora's scheme was almost beyond bounds. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then,” he said; “it's this will do the masther good. Oh, then, Miss + Nora, it's you that has the 'cute ways.” + </p> + <p> + A tarpaulin was found and laid upon the floor. From Hannah's cottage a + small deal table was fetched. A washstand was given by Angus; a cracked + basin and jug were further secured; and Nora gave implicit directions with + regard to the boiling of the mealy potatoes and the little scrap of bacon + on which the Squire was to sup. + </p> + <p> + “You will bring them in—the potatoes, I mean—in their + jackets,” said the Irish girl, “and have them hot as hot can be.” + </p> + <p> + “They shall screech, that they shall,” replied Hannah; “and the bacon, it + shall be done as tasty and sweet as bacon can be. I'll give the last bit + of my own little pigeen, with all the heart in the world, for the Squire's + supper.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, when the long cart arrived from Cronane, accompanied by the + Squire and his factotum, Mike, the barn was ready to receive the bedstead, + the straw paillasse, and the mattress. Nora managed to convey, from the + depths of the Castle, sheets, blankets, pillows, and a counterpane, and + everything was in apple-pie order by the time the family was supposed to + assemble for afternoon tea. This was the hour that Nora had selected for + having the Squire removed from his feather-bed existence to the more + breezy life of the barn. It was now the fashion at O'Shanaghgan to make + quite a state occasion of afternoon tea. The servants, in their grand + livery, were all well to the fore. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, dressed as became + the lady of so beautiful a place, sat in her lovely drawing room to + receive her guests; and the guests came up in many conveyances—some + in carriages, some on outside cars, some on dog-carts, some on foot; but, + come as they would, they came, day after day, to show their respects to + the lady whom now the whole country delighted to honor. + </p> + <p> + On these occasions Mr. Hartrick sat with his sister, and helped her to + entertain her visitors. It had been one of the sore points between Nora + and her mother that the former would not appear to afternoon tea. Nora had + made her sick father her excuse. On the present occasion she took good + care not even to show her face inside the house. But Molly kept watch, + just behind the plantation, and soon rushed into the yard to say that the + carriages were beginning to appear. + </p> + <p> + “A curious party have come just now,” said Molly, “in such a droll + carriage, with yellow wheels and a glass body. It looks like a sort of a + Lord Mayor's coach.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it must be the coach of the O'Rorkes,” cried Nora. “Fancy Madam + coming to see mother! Why, Madam will scarcely pay a visit to royalty + itself. There is no doubt that mother is thought a lot of now. Oh, dear, + oh, dear, what a frightfully society life we shall have to lead here in + future! But I have no time to think of mother and her friends just now. + Squire, will you come upstairs with me to see father? Hannah, please wait + down here to be ready to help? Angus, you must also come upstairs, and + wait in the passage outside the Squire's room until I send for you.” + </p> + <p> + Having given her directions, Nora entered the house. All was quiet and + peaceful. The well trained English servants were, some of them, in the + kitchen premises, and some of them attending in the hall and drawing + rooms, where the guests were now arriving thick and fast. Nora had chosen + her hour well. She entered her father's room, accompanied by Squire + Murphy. + </p> + <p> + The old Squire was lying, half-dozing, in his luxurious bed. The fire had + been recently built up. The room felt close. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear!” said Squire Murphy, “it is difficult to breathe here! And + how's yourself, O'Shanaghgan, my man? Why, you do look drawn and pulled + down. I am right glad to see ye, that I am.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire of Cronane grasped the hand of the Squire of O'Shanaghgan, and + the Squire of O'Shanaghgan looked up at the other man's weather-beaten + face with a pathetic expression in his deep-set, hawk-like, dark eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I am bad, Murphy—very bad,” said the Squire; “it's killing me they + are amongst them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, it looks like it,” said Squire Murphy. “I never was in such a + smotheration of a place before. Faix, then, why don't you have the window + open, and have a bit of air circulating through the room?” + </p> + <p> + “It's forbid I am,” said the Squire. “Ah, Murphy! it's killing me, it's + killing me.” + </p> + <p> + “But it shall kill you no longer, father,” said Nora. “Oh, father! Squire + Murphy and I have made up such a lovely, delicious plan. What would you + say to a big, bare room again, father; and a hard bed again, father; and + potatoes and a pinch of salt and a little bit of bacon again, father?” + </p> + <p> + “What would I say?” cried the Squire. “I'd say, glory be to Heaven, and + all the Saints be praised; but it is too good luck to be true.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” said Squire Murphy; “it is going to be true. You just + do what you are bid, and you will be in the hoight of contentment.” + </p> + <p> + The wonder-stricken Squire now had to listen to Nora's plan. + </p> + <p> + “We have done it,” she cried, in conclusion; “the barn is ready. It makes + a lovely bedroom; there are no end of draughts, and you'll get well in a + jiffy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let's be quick,” said the Squire, “or your lady-mother will be up + and prevent me. Hurry, Nora, for Heaven's sake! For the life of me, don't + give me a cup of cold water to taste, and then dash it from my lips. If we + are not quick, we'll be caught and prevented from going. I am ready; wrap + me up in a rug, and carry me out. I am ready and willing. Good-by to + feather bed-dom. I don't want ever to see these fal-lals again.” + </p> + <p> + The next few moments were ones of intense excitement; but before ten + minutes had elapsed the Squire was lying in the middle of the hard bed, + gazing round him with twinkling eyes and a smile on his lips. The + appearance of Hannah Croneen, with a dish of steaming potatoes and a piece + of boiled bacon, was the final crown to his rapture. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. — ANDY. + </h2> + <p> + Are there any words in the language to describe the scene which took place + at O'Shanaghgan when Mrs. O'Shanaghgan discovered what Nora had done? She + called her brother to her aid; and, visiting the barn in her own august + person, her company dress held neatly up so as to display her trim ankles + and pretty shoes, solemnly announced that her daughter Nora was guilty of + the murder of her own father, and that she, Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, washed her + hands of her in the future. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nora,” said the irate lady, “you can go your own way from this time. + I have done all that a mother could do for you; but your wildness and + insubordination are past bearing. This last and final act crowns all. The + servants shall come into the barn, and bring your poor father back to his + bedroom, and you shall see nothing of him again until the doctor gives + leave. Pray, George,” continued Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, “send one of the grooms + at once for Doctor Talbot. I doubt if my poor husband has a chance of + recovery after this mad deed; but we must take what steps we can.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Ellen,” said the Squire; “if you can't be aisy, be as + aisy as you can. There's no sort of use in your putting on these + high-falutin airs. I was born an Irishman. I opened my eyes on this world + in a good, sharp draught, and, if I am to die, it's in a draught I'll + leave the world; but, once for all, no more smotherations for me. I've had + too much of 'em. You say this child is likely to be the death of me. Why, + then, Ellen—God forgive yer ignorance, my poor wife—but it's + the life of me she'll be, not the death. Isn't it in comfort I'm lying for + the first time since that spalpeen behind the hedge tried to fell me to + the earth? Isn't it a good meal I've just had?—potatoes in their + jackets, and a taste of fat bacon; and if I can wash it down, as I mean to + later on, with a drop of mountain-dew, why, it's well I'll slumber + to-night. You're a very fine woman, me lady, and I'm proud as Punch of + you, but you don't know how to manage a wild Irishman when he is ill. Now, + Nora, bless her pretty heart, saw right through and through me—the + way I was being killed by inches; the hot room and the horrid carpets and + curtains; and the fire, not even made of decent turf, but those ugly black + coals, and never a draught through the chamber, except when I took it + unbeknownst to you. Ah, Nora guessed that her father was dying, and there + was no way of saving him but doing it on the sly. Well, I'm here, the + girleen has managed it, and here I'll stay. Not all the doctors in the + land, nor all the fine English grooms, shall take me back again. I'll walk + back when I'm fit to walk, and I'll do my best to bear all that awful + furniture; but in future this is my bedroom, and now you know the worst.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire had a great color in his face as he spoke; his eyes were + shining as they had not shone since his accident, and his voice was quite + strong. Squire Murphy, who was standing near, clapped him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Patrick,” he said, “it's proud of you I am; you're like your old + self again—blest if you're not.” + </p> + <p> + Nora, who was kneeling by her father's bed, kept her face slightly turned + away from her mother; the tears were in her eyes, but there was a well of + thanksgiving in her heart. In spite of her mother's angry reproaches, she + knew she had done the right thing. Her father would get well now. After + all, his Irish daughter knew what he wanted, and she must bear her English + mother's anger. + </p> + <p> + In an incredibly short space of time two or three of the men-servants + appeared, accompanied by Dr. Talbot. They stood in the entrance to the + barn, prepared to carry out orders; but now there stole past them the + Irish groom, Angus, and Hannah Croneen. These two came and stood near Nora + at the head of the bed. Dr. Talbot examined the patient, looked round the + cheerless barn, and said, with a smile, glancing from Mrs. O'Shanaghgan to + O'Shanaghgan's own face: + </p> + <p> + “This will never do; you must get back to your own comfortable room, my + dear sir—that is, if I am to continue to attend you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, for God's sake, leave off attending me, Talbot,” said the Squire. + “You must be a rare ignoramus not to see that your treatment is killing me + out and out. It's fresh air I want, and plenty of it, and no more + fal-lals. Is it in my grave you'd have me in a fortnight's time? You get + out of this, and leave me to Mother Nature and the nursing of my Irish + colleen.” + </p> + <p> + This was the final straw. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan left the barn, looking more + erect and more stately even than when she had entered it. Mr. Hartrick + followed her, so did the enraged Dr. Talbot, and lastly the English + servants. Squire Murphy uttered the one word, “Routed!” and clapped his + hand on his thigh. + </p> + <p> + The Squire, however, spoke sadly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to vex your lady mother, Nora,” he said; “and upon my soul, + child, you must get me well as quick as possible. We must prove to her + that we are in the right—that we must.” + </p> + <p> + “Have a dhrop of the crayther, your honor,” said Hannah, now coming + forward. “It's truth I'm telling, but this is me very last bottle of + potheen, which I was keeping for me funeral; but there, his honor's + wilcome to every drain of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pour me out a little,” said the Squire. + </p> + <p> + He drank off the spirit, which was absolutely pure and unadulterated, and + smacked his lips. + </p> + <p> + “It's fine I'll be to-night,” he said; “it's you that have the 'cute ways, + Nora. You have saved me. But, indeed, I thank you all, my friends, for + coming to my deliverance.” + </p> + <p> + That night, in her smoke-begrimed cabin, Hannah Croneen described with + much unction the way madam and the English doctor had been made to know + their place, as she expressed it. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas himself that put them down,” said Hannah. “Ah, but he is a grand + man, is O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan spent a very unhappy night. No comfort could she derive + even from Mr. Hartrick's words. Nora was an out-and-out rebel, and must be + treated accordingly; and as to the Squire—well, when Nora attended + his funeral her eyes might be opened. The good lady was quite certain that + the Squire would have developed pneumonia by the morning; but when the + reports reached her that he looked heartier and better than he had since + his illness, she could scarcely believe her ears. This, however, was a + fact, for Mother Nature did step in to cure the Squire; and the draughty + barn, with its lack of every ordinary comfort, was so soothing to his soul + that it began to have an equally good effect upon his body. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding that it poured rain outside, and that great eddies of wind + came from under the badly-fitting doors and in at the cracks of the small + windows, the Squire ate his food with appetite, and began once again to + enjoy life. In the first place, he was no longer lonely. It was impossible + for his old friends and retainers to visit him in the solitude of his + grand bedroom; but it was perfectly easy, not only for Squire Murphy and + Squire Fitzgerald, and half the other squireens of the neighborhood, to + slip into the barn and have a “collogue,” as they expressed it; but also + the little gossoons in their ragged trousers and bare feet, and the + girleens, with their curly hair, and roguish dark-blue eyes, to scuttle in + also. For could they not dart under the bed like so many rabbits if + madam's step was heard, and didn't the Squire, bless him! like to have + them with him when madam was busy with her English friends? Then Nora + herself, the darling of his heart, was scarcely ever away from him now. + Didn't she sit perched like a bird on the foot of the hard bed and cause + him to roar with laughter as she described the English and their ways? + Molly, too, became a prime favorite with the Squire. It is sad to relate + that he encouraged her in her naughty words, and she began to say + “Jehoshaphat!” and “Elephants!” and “Holy Moses!” more frequently than + ever. + </p> + <p> + The grand fact of all, however, was this: the Squire was getting well + again. + </p> + <p> + About a week after his removal to the barn Nora was out rather late by + herself. She had been visiting her favorite haunts by the seashore, and + was returning laden with seaweeds and shells, when she was startled by + hearing her name spoken in a low tone just behind her. The sound issued + from a plantation of thick underwood. The girl paused, and her heart beat + a little faster. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What is it?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The next moment a long and skinny hand and arm were protruded, Nora's own + arm was forcibly taken possession of, and she was dragged, against her + will, into the underwood. Her first impulse was to cry out; but being as + brave a girl as ever walked, she quickly suppressed this inclination, and + turned and faced the ragged and starved-looking man whom she expected to + meet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Andy, I knew it was you,” said Nora. “What do you want with me now? + How dare you speak to me?” + </p> + <p> + “How dare I! What do you mane by that, Miss Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I mean,” answered the girl. “Oh, I have been patient and + have not said a word; but do you think I did not know? When all the + country, Andy Neil, were looking for my father's would-be murderer, I knew + where I could put my hand on him. But I did not say a word. If my father + had died I must—I must have spoken; but if he recovered, I felt that + in me which I cannot describe as pity, but which yet prevented my giving + you up to the justice you deserve. But to meet me here, to dare to waylay + me—it is too much.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, when you speak like that you near madden me,” replied Andy. “Look at + me, Miss Nora; look well; look hard. Here's the skin tight on me arums, + and stretched fit to burst over me cheek-bones; and it's empty I am, Miss + Nora, for not a bite nor sup have I tasted for twenty-four hours. The + neighbors, they 'as took agen me. It has got whispering abroad that it's + meself handled the gun that laid the Squire on what might have been his + deathbed, and they have turned agen me, and not even a pitaty can I get + from 'em, and I can't get work nowhere; and the roof is took off the + little bit of a cabin in which I was born, and two of the childers have + died from cowld and hunger. That's my portion, Miss Nora; that's my bitter + portion; and yet you ashk me, miss, why I spake to ye.” + </p> + <p> + “You know why I said it,” answered Nora. “There was a time when I pitied + you, but not now. You have gone too far; you have done that which no + daughter can overlook. Let me go—let me go; don't attempt to touch + me, or I shall scream out. There are neighbors near who will come to my + help.” + </p> + <p> + “No, there are not,” said Andy. “I 'as took good care of that. You may + scream as loud as you please, but no one will hear; and if we go farther + into the underwood no one will see. Come, my purty miss; it's my turn now. + It's my turn at last. Come along.” + </p> + <p> + Nora was strong and fearless, but she had not Andy's brute strength. With + a clutch, now so fierce and desperate that she wondered her arm was not + broken, the man, who was half a madman, dragged her deeper into the shade + of the underwood. + </p> + <p> + “There now,” said Andy, with a chuckle of triumph; “you has got to listen. + You're the light o' his eyes and the darlin' o' his heart. But what o' + that? Didn't my childer die of the cowld and the hunger, and the want of a + roof over them, and didn't I love them? Ah! that I did. Do you remember + the night I said I'd drown ye in the Banshee's pool, and didn't we make a + compact that if I let ye go you'd get the Squire to lave me my bit of a + cabin, and not to evict me? And how did ye kape your word? Ah, my purty, + how did ye kape your word?” + </p> + <p> + “I did my best for you,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Yer bhest. A poor bhest when I've had to go. But now, Miss Nora, I aint + waylaid you for nothin'. The masther has escaped this time, and you has + escaped; but as shure as there is a God in heav'n, if you don't get Squire + to consint to let me go back, there'll be mischief. There now, Miss Nora, + I've spoken. You're purty, and you're swate, and 'tis you has got a tinder + heart; but that won't do you no good, for I'm mad with misery. It's me bit + of a cabin I want to die in, and nothing less will contint me. You may go + back now, for I've said what I come to say; but it's to-morrow night I'll + be here waiting for ye, and I warn ye to bring me the consint that I + crave, for if you don't come, be the powers! ye'll find that you've played + with fire when you neglected Andy Neil.” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered these words, the miserable man dropped Nora's arm and + vanished into the depths of the plantation. Nora stood still for a moment, + then returned thoughtfully and slowly to the house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. — THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. + </h2> + <p> + Nora slept little that night. She had a good deal to think of, and very + anxious were her thoughts. She knew the Irishman, Andy Neil, well, and she + also knew his ferocious and half-savage temperament. Added to his natural + fierceness of character, he now undoubtedly was possessed by temporary + insanity. This had been brought on by hunger, cold, and great misery. The + man was desperate, and would think little of desperate deeds. After all, + his life was of small value to him compared to his revenge. Whenever did + an Irishman, at moments like the present, consider life? Revenge came + first, and there was that in the man's gleaming dark eyes, in his high + cheek-bones, in his wild, unkempt, starved appearance, which showed that + he would, if something was not quickly done, once again attempt the + Squire's life. What was she to do? Nora wondered and wondered. Her father + was getting better; the open air treatment, the simple food, and the + company of his friends were effecting the cure which the luxurious life in + the heavily furnished chamber had failed to do. The Squire would soon be + well and strong again. If he were careful, he would once again stand in + health and strength on his ancestral acres. + </p> + <p> + He would get accustomed to the grandeur of the restored Castle + O'Shanaghgan; he would get accustomed to his English relatives and their + ways. He would have his barn to retire to and his friends to talk to, and + he would still be the darling, the best-loved of all, to his daughter + Nora; but at the present moment he was in danger. In the barn, too, he was + in much greater danger than he had been when in the safe seclusion of the + Castle. It would be possible for any one to creep up to the barn at night, + to push open the somewhat frail windows or equally frail door, and to + accomplish that deed which had already been attempted. Nora knew well that + she must act, she must do something—what, was the puzzle. Squire + O'Shanaghgan was one of the most generous, open-hearted, and affectionate + of men. His generosity was proverbial; he was a prime favorite with his + tenants; but he had, like many another Irishman of his type, a certain + hard phase in his character—he could, on occasions, be almost cruel. + He had taken a great dislike to Andy Neil and to some other tenants of his + class; he had been roused to stronger feeling by their open resistance, + and had declared that not all the Land Leagues in Ireland, not all the + Fenians, not all the Whiteboys, were they banded together in one great + insurrection, should frighten him from his purpose. + </p> + <p> + Those tenants who defied him, who refused to pay the scanty rent which he + asked for their humble cabins, should go out; they should, in short, be + evicted. The other men had submitted to the Squire's iron dictation. They + had struggled to put their pence and shillings together, and with some + difficulty had met the question of the rent; but Andy Neil either could + not or would not pay; and the Squire had got the law, as he expressed it, + to evict the man. There had come a day when the wild tenant of the little + cabin on the side of the bare mountain had come home to find his household + goods exposed to the airs of heaven, the roof off his cabin, the door + removed from its hinges; the hearth, it is true, still warm with the ashes + of the sods of turf which were burning there in the morning, but the whole + home a ruin. The Squire had not himself witnessed this scene of + desolation, but had given his stern orders, and they had been executed by + his agent. When Andy saw the ruins of his home he gave one wild howl and + rushed down the side of the mountain. His sick children—there were + two of them in the cabin at the time—had been taken pity on by some + neighbors almost as poor as himself; but the shock (or perhaps their own + bad health) had caused the death of both boys, and the man was now + homeless and childless. No wonder his brain gave way. He vowed vengeance. + Vengeance was the one last thing left to him in life; he would revenge his + wrongs or die. So, waiting his opportunity, he had crouched behind a + hedge, and, with an old gun which he had stolen from a neighbor, had fired + at the Squire. In the crucial moment, however, his hand shook, and the + shot had lodged, not in the Squire's body, but in his leg, causing a nasty + but scarcely a dangerous wound. The only one in all the world who + suspected Andy was the Squire's daughter Nora; but it was easy for her to + put two and two together. The man's words to her in the cave, when he + threatened to drown her, returned to her memory. She suspected him; but, + with an Irish girl's sympathy, she would not speak of her suspicions—that + is, if her father's life was spared. + </p> + <p> + But now the man himself had come to her and threatened fresh mischief. She + hated to denounce the poor, starved creature to the police, and yet she <i>must</i> + protect her father. The Squire was much better; but his temper could be + roused to great fury at times, and Nora dreaded to mention the subject of + Andy Neil. She guessed only too well that fear would not influence the + fierce old Squire to give the man back his cabin. The one thing the + wretched creature now craved was to die under the shelter of the roof + where he had first seen the light; but this natural request, so dear to + the heart of the Squire himself, under altered circumstances, would not + weigh with him under existing conditions. The mere fact that Andy still + threatened him would make him more determined than ever to stick to his + purpose. Nora did not dare to give her father even a hint with regard to + the hand which had fired that shot; and yet, and yet—oh, God help + her! she must do something, or the consequences might be too fearful to + contemplate. + </p> + <p> + As she was dressing on the following morning she thought hard, and the + idea came to her to take the matter into her own hands, and herself give + Andy leave to go back to his cabin; but, on reflection, she found that + this would be no easy matter, for the cabins from which the tenants were + evicted were often guarded by men whose business it was to prevent the + wretched creatures returning to them. No doubt Andy's cabin would be now + inaccessible; still, she might go and look at it, and, if all other means + failed, might venture to beg of her father's agent to let the man return + to it; but first of all she would see the place. Somewhat cheered as this + determination came to her, she ran downstairs. Mr. Hartrick was returning + to England by an early train, and the carriage, which was to convey him to + the station, was already at the door. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan was almost tearful + at the thought of parting with her beloved brother. Molly, delighted at + being allowed to stay on at the Castle, was also present; but Nora's + entrance on the scene caused Mrs. O'Shanaghgan to speak fretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Late as usual, Nora,” said that lady, turning and facing her daughter as + she appeared. “I am glad that you condescended to appear before your uncle + starts for England. I wonder that you have taken the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not scold her, Ellen,” said Mr. Hartrick, kindly. “I begin to + understand something of the nature of my Irish niece. When the Squire is + well again she will, I am sure, return to England and resume her studies; + but at present we can scarcely expect her to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come back some time, Uncle George,” said Nora; “and oh!” she + added, “I do thank you for all your great and real kindness. I may appear + ungrateful, but indeed, indeed I am not so in my heart, and it is very + good of you to allow Molly to stay; and I will promise to take great care + of her, and not to let her get too wild.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Any message for your aunt, Nora?” said Mr. Hartrick gravely. + “I should like you, my dear,” he added, coming up to the girl, and laying + his hand on her shoulder and looking with his kind eyes into her face, “to + send your Aunt Grace a very special message; for you did try her terribly, + Nora, when you not only ran away yourself, but induced Molly to accompany + you.” + </p> + <p> + Nora hesitated for a moment, the color flamed into her face, and her eyes + grew very bright. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her, Uncle George,” she said, speaking slowly and with great + emphasis, “that I did what I did for <i>father</i>. Tell her that for no + one else but father would I hurt her, and ask her to forgive me just + because I am an Irish girl; and I love—oh! I love my father so + dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take her your message, my dear,” said Mr. Hartrick, and then he + stooped and kissed his niece. + </p> + <p> + A moment later he was about to step into the carriage, when Nora rushed up + to him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by; God bless you!” she cried. “Oh, how kind you have been, and how + I love you! Please, please, do not misunderstand me; I have many cares and + anxieties at present or I would say more. You have done splendidly, only——” + </p> + <p> + “Only what, Nora?” said her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Only, Uncle George,” answered the girl, “you have done what you have done + to please my mother, and you have done it all in the English way; and oh! + the English way is very fine, and very noble, and very generous; but—but + we <i>did</i> want the old bare rooms and the lack of furniture, and the + place as it always has been; but we could not expect—I mean father + and I could not expect—you and mother to remember that.” + </p> + <p> + “It was impossible, Nora,” said her uncle. “What I did I did, as you + express it, my dear, in the English way. The retrograde movement, Nora, + could not be expected from an Englishman; and by-and-by you, at least, + will thank me for having brought civilization to O'Shanaghgan.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later Mr. Hartrick went away, and Nora returned to the house. + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had left the room, and Nora found herself alone with her + cousin Molly. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Nora?” said Molly. “You look quite pale and anxious.” + </p> + <p> + “I look what I feel,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “But can I help you in any way, Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Will you come for a drive with me this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will. You know well that I should like nothing better.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Molly dear, run round to the yard and tell Angus put Black Bess to + the outside car, and to bring it round to the corner of the plantation. I + do not want any one to know, and tell Angus that I will drive Black Bess + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” replied Molly, running off on her errand. + </p> + <p> + Nora did not stay long with her father that morning, and soon after ten + o'clock she and Molly were flying through the boreens and winding roads in + the direction of Slieve Nagorna. At the foot of the mountain they + dismounted. Nora fastened Black Bess's reins to the trunk of a tree which + stood near, and then she and Molly began to ascend the mountain. It was a + glorious winter's day; the air was mild, as it generally is in the west of + Ireland, and the sun shone with power. Nora and Molly walked quickly. + Nora, who was accustomed to climbing from her earliest years, scaled the + rocks, and jumped from one tiny projection in the ground to another; but + Molly found her ascent more difficult. She was soon out of breath, and + called in laughing tones to Nora to wait for her. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” said Nora; “I sometimes forget that you are not an Irish + girl.” + </p> + <p> + “You also forget that I am practically a London girl,” answered Molly. “I + have seldom or never climbed even a respectable hill, far less a mountain + with sides like this one.” + </p> + <p> + “We will reach the spot which I am aiming for before long,” said Nora; + “but if you are tired, do sit down, and I'll go on alone.” + </p> + <p> + This, however, Molly would not hear of, and presently the girls reached a + spot where once a small cabin had stood. The walls of the cabin were still + there, but the thatched roof had disappeared, the doors and windows had + been removed, and the blackened earth where the hearth had been alone bore + evidence to the fact that fires had been burnt there for long generations. + But there was no fire now on the desolate hearth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” said Nora. “It makes me cry to look at the place. Once, long, + long ago, when Terry and I were tiny children, we came up here. Andy's + wife was alive then, and she gave us a hot potato each and a pinch of + salt. We ate the potatoes just here, and how good they tasted! Little Mike + was a baby, such a pretty little boy, and dear Kathleen was so proud of + him. Oh! it was a <i>home</i> then, whereas now it is a desolation.” + </p> + <p> + “A very poor sort of home I should say,” answered Molly. “What a truly + desolate place! If anybody ever lived here, that person must be glad to + have got away. It makes me shudder even to think of any human being + calling this spot a home.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” answered Nora, “it was a very pretty home, and the one who lived in + it is broken-hearted—nay, more, he is almost crazed, all and + entirely because he has been driven away. He deserved it, I know; but it + has gone very hard with him; it has torn out his heart; it has turned him + from a man into a savage. Oh! if I had only money, would not I build up + these walls, and put back the roof, and light the fire once more, and put + the man who used to have this house as a home back again? He would die in + peace then. Oh! if only, <i>only</i> I had money.” + </p> + <p> + “How queer you look!” said Molly. “How your eyes shine! I don't understand + you. I love you very much, but I confess I don't understand you. Why, this + desolate spot would drive most people mad.” + </p> + <p> + “But not Irish people who were born here,” said Nora. “There! I have seen + what I wanted to see, and we had best be going back. I want to drive to + the village, and I want to see John Finnigan. I hope I shall find him at + home.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is John Finnigan?” asked Molly. + </p> + <p> + “The man who <i>does</i> these sort of things,” said Nora, the red, angry + blood rushing to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + She turned and quickly walked down the mountain, Molly racing and + stumbling after her. Black Bess was standing motionless where her mistress + had placed her. Nora unfastened the reins and sprang upon the car, Molly + followed her example, and they drove almost on the wings of the wind back + to the village. There they were fortunate enough to find John Finnigan. + Leaving Molly holding Black Bess's reins, Nora went into the house. It was + a very small and shabby house, furnished in Irish style, and presided over + by Mrs. Finnigan, a very stout, untidy, and typical Irishwoman, with all + the good nature and <i>savoir-faire</i> of her countrywomen. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, then, Miss Nora,” she said, “I am glad to see you. And how's the + Squire?” + </p> + <p> + “Much better, thank you,” said Nora. “Is your husband in, Mrs. Finnigan?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, deary. Finnigan's abed still. He was out late last night. + Why, listen; you can hear him snoring; the partition is thin. He snores + loud enough to be heard all over the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do wake him, please, Mrs. Finnigan,” said Nora. “I want to see him + on a most important matter at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, that being the case, honey, you just step into the parlor while I + go and get Finnigan to rise and dress himself.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Finnigan threw open the door of a very untidy and small room. Several + children were having breakfast by a table which bore traces of fish-bones, + potato-peelings, and bacon-rinds. The children were untidy, like their + mother, but had the bright, very dark-blue eyes and curly hair of their + country. Nora knew them all, and was soon in the midst of a clamorous + group, while Mrs. Finnigan went out to get her husband to rise. Finnigan + himself appeared in about a quarter of an hour, and Nora went with him + into his little study. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” said that worthy, “and what can I do for you, Miss + O'Shanaghgan?” + </p> + <p> + Nora looked very earnest and pleading. + </p> + <p> + “My father is better,” she said, “but not well enough yet to be troubled + with business. I understand that you are doing some of his business for + him, Mr. Finnigan.” + </p> + <p> + “Some, it is true,” answered the gentleman, frowning as he spoke, “but not + all, by no means all. Since that English fine gentleman, Mr. Hartrick, + came over, he has put the bulk of the property into the hands of Steward + of Glen Lee. Steward is a Scotchman, and why he should get work which is + rightly my due is hard on me, Miss Nora—very hard on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Nora restlessly, “I know nothing about the matter. I am + sorry; but I am afraid I am powerless to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Nora!” said Finnigan, “you know very well that you have kissed + the Blarney Stone, and that no one can resist you. If you were to say a + word to the Squire he would give me my due; and now that so much money has + been put into O'Shanaghgan, it would be a very fine thing for me to have + the collecting of the rents. I am a poor man, Miss Nora, and this business + ought not to be given over my head to a stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to father by-and-by,” said Nora; “but I doubt if I can do + anything. But I have come to-day to ask you to do something for me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that, Miss Nora? I am sure I'd be proud to help such a + beautiful young lady in any way.” + </p> + <p> + “I dislike compliments,” said Nora, coloring with annoyance. “Please + listen. You know the man you evicted from the cabin on the side of Slieve + Nagorna—Andy Neil?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly well, perfectly well,” answered Finnigan, + </p> + <p> + “You had my father's orders?” + </p> + <p> + “I had that, Miss Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you, Mr. Finnigan, now to take my orders and to give Andy back his + cabin. Put a bit of roof over it—anything, even an old tarpaulin—anything, + so that he may sleep there if he likes to-night. I want you to do this for + me, and allow me to take the risk of offending my father.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Finnigan, “and risk myself all chance of getting the agency. + No, no, Miss Nora. Besides, what would all the other tenants say who have + been evicted in their time? The man shall get his cabin back and a fresh + roof and new windows, by the same token, when he pays his rent, and not + before.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has no money to pay his rent.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he must stay out, Miss Nora.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, I wish,” said Nora, clasping her hands and speaking with passion, + “that you would oblige me in this. Indeed, it is of the utmost + importance.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Finnigan, going up to her and staring into her face; “has + that scoundrel threatened? Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no; you are mistaken,” said Nora eagerly. “I only meant that I—I—pitied + him so much.” + </p> + <p> + “That being the case, Miss Nora, I will say nothing further. But the fact + is, I have before had my suspicions as to the hand which pulled that + trigger which sent the shot into the Squire's leg, and it would be an + extremely graceful act on my part to have that person arrested, and would + doubtless insure the agency for me. But I will say no more; only, please + understand, under <i>no</i> circumstances, except the payment of the rent, + can Andy Neil get back his cabin.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. — A DARING DEED. + </h2> + <p> + Having failed to get any help from John Finnigan, Nora returned to the + Castle. As she drove quickly home she was very silent. Even loquacious + Molly did not care to interrupt her thoughts. As soon as they reached the + Castle she turned to her cousin and spoke quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Go to the barn and look after father, Molly. Talk as many naughty words + as ever you like; make him laugh; keep him occupied. After dinner I shall + probably want your aid again. In the meantime you will help me best by + taking father off my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “And I desire nothing better,” answered Molly. “I love the Squire; it is + the height of entertainment, as he would call it, to talk to him.” + </p> + <p> + Molly accordingly ran off. The Squire was now well enough to sit up in a + great easy-chair made of straw, which had been carted over from Cronane + for his special benefit, for the padded and velvet-covered chairs of the + Castle would not at all have suited his inclinations. He sat back in the + depths of his chair, which creaked at his every movement, and laughed long + and often at Molly's stories. + </p> + <p> + “But where's Light o' the Morning herself?” he said after a pause. “Why + don't she come to visit her old father? Why, it's craving for a sight of + her I am.” + </p> + <p> + “I think Nora is very busy to-day,” answered Molly, “May I read the paper + to you, Squire?” + </p> + <p> + “You read the paper to me?” answered Squire O'Shanaghgan. “Why, bless yer + little heart, my pretty girleen, but I must decline with thanks. It is + perfect torture to listen to your English accent when you are trying to do + the rich Irish brogue. Irish papers should be read by Irish colleens, and + then you get the flavor. But what did you say my colleen was after—business, + is it? She's very fond of poking that little finger of hers into other + people's pies. What is she after now at all, at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you,” answered Molly, coloring slightly as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + The Squire looked annoyed and suspicious. + </p> + <p> + “You go and call her to me,” he said. “Tell her to come along this blessed + minute; say it's wanting her I am.” + </p> + <p> + Molly ran out of the barn. She found Nora in earnest conversation with + Angus, while Hannah Croneen stood close by plucking now and then at the + girl's skirt, looking eagerly into her face, and uttering such + ejaculations as “Oh, glory!” “Be the powers!” “Did ye ever hear the like?” + “Well, well, that beats all!” + </p> + <p> + “Nora,” said Molly, “will you go to your father? He wants you + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you let out anything?” said Nora, turning and looking anxiously at + Molly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but he asked after you, and I said you were busy. The Squire said + then, 'I hope she is not poking her little finger into other people's + pies.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will go to him,” said Nora. “I'll manage him. You stay where you + are, Molly.” + </p> + <p> + Nora's black hair was curling in crisp waves all round her beautiful white + forehead. Her dark-blue eyes were darker and more shining than ever, there + was a richer bloom on her cheeks, and there were sweeter smiles on her + lips than she had ever perhaps worn before as she now entered the Squire's + room. + </p> + <p> + “Well, father?” she said. + </p> + <p> + Squire O'Shanaghgan, who had been sitting wrapped in thought, roused + himself on her entrance, gave her a smile, and motioned her to come to his + side. + </p> + <p> + “Kneel down by me, colleen,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Nora knelt. The Squire took his big hand and put it under her chin; he + raised her blooming face and looked into her eyes, which looked back again + at him. As he did so he uttered a quick sigh. + </p> + <p> + “You're after something, mavoureen,” he said. “What's up, little girl? + What's fretting that tender heart of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Something, father,” said Nora then. + </p> + <p> + “And you won't tell your old dad?” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather not. Won't you trust me?” + </p> + <p> + “Trust her, is it?” cried the Squire. “I'd trust her with all I possess. + I'd trust her with my hopes of heaven itself. Trust her, is it? Nora, you + fret me when you talk like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then <i>do</i> trust me, father, and don't ask me any questions. I'll + tell you by and by—yes, I faithfully promise, but I shall be busy + to-day. I may have to be away from you for a great part of to-day, and I + may want Molly to help me. Can you do without me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, now, the conceit of the creature,” said the Squire. “As if I cannot + do without you, you little piece of impertinence. To be sure, and to be + sure I can. Why, there is your lady mother; she'll come and sit with me + for an hour or so, and let out at me all her grumbles. Nora, my heart, it + is dreadful to hear her; but it's good penance too, and maybe it's too + comfortable you have been making me, and I ought to have a bit of what I + do not like to keep me humble. You go along now, and come back when you + have done that which is filling your heart to the brim.” + </p> + <p> + Nora kissed her father very gravely; she then went out of the barn, and + returned to where Angus and Hannah, and also Molly, were waiting for her. + </p> + <p> + “I have thought how I can manage, Miss Nora,” said Angus. “When those + Englishmen—bad cess to 'em!—are at dinner I'll get the long + cart out of the yard, and I'll put the white pony to it, and then it's + easy to get the big tarpaulin that we have for the hayrick out of its + place in the west barn. I have everything handy; and if you could come + along with me, Miss Nora, and the other young lady, and if Hannah here + will lend a hand, why we'll do up the place a bit, and the poor forsaken + crayther can die there at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not forget the basket of provisions, Hannah,” said Nora, “the + potatoes, and the bacon, and a tiny bottle of potheen; and do not forget + some fagots and bits of turf to kindle up the fire again. Oh, and, Hannah, + a blanket if you can manage it; and we might get a few wisps of straw to + put in the bottom of the cart. The straw would make a fine bed.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said Hannah. “You lave it to me, me beautiful young lady.” + </p> + <p> + The two servants now departed, and Nora and her cousin went into the + house. The early dinner, or rather lunch, as it was now called, was served + soon afterwards; and almost immediately after the meal was over Nora and + Molly ran down to the bottom of the plantation, where they found Angus, + Hannah, the long cart with the pony harnessed to it, and the tarpaulin, + straw, basket of provisions, etc., all placed in the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “Jump in, Molly,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + Molly scrambled in as best she could; Nora followed her; and Hannah, + climbing in over the left wheel, sat down at the bottom of the cart. Angus + jumped on the driver's seat, and whipped up the pony. The pony was stout + and very strong, and well accustomed to Irish hills. They were off. Molly + had never been so rattled and bumped and shaken in the whole course of her + life, but she enjoyed it, as she said, immensely. Only, what was Nora + doing? The tarpaulin had been carefully hidden from view by the straw + which Angus had cunningly placed over and not under it; and it was well + that this was the case, as after the little party had left O'Shanaghgan a + couple of miles, they were met by John Finnigan driving on his outside + car. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, Miss Nora, what are you doing now?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Having a drive for my own pleasure,” replied Nora, nodding gayly. + </p> + <p> + Finnigan looked with suspicion at the party, but as there was nothing + contraband in anybody driving in a long cart, and as he could not possibly + guess what they were doing, he drove on his own way without saying + anything further. After less than an hour's driving they reached the foot + of Slieve Nagorna, and here the real toil began, for it was quite + impossible for the pony, willing as he was, to lug the cart up the + mountain. Where there is a will, however, there is generally a way; and + although the pony could not drag the cart up, he could go up himself, + being very sure-footed and quite willing to be turned into a beast of + burden for the nonce. The heavy tarpaulin, therefore, was fastened on his + back, and, with Angus leading and Hannah following with the basket of + provisions, and the two girls making up the rear, the little cavalcade + started forward. Oh, how hot it seemed, and oh, how tired Molly got! But + never mind; they were making progress. After a time they reached the site + of Andy's cabin, and then Angus and Hannah developed strength which fairly + took Molly's breath away, for the tarpaulin was absolutely lifted up and + deposited as a sort of temporary roof over the roofless walls; and when + this had been done Angus managed to cut a hole in the center to make a + chimney; then the fagots were placed on the hearth and the turf put on top + of them, and the remainder of the turf laid handy near by; and the straw + was ready, soft and inviting, in a corner not too far away from the fire, + and the blankets were spread over it; and the basket of provisions, cold + boiled potatoes, cold bacon, and the little bottle of potheen were all + left handy. It was indeed a miserable home, but, compared to the desolate + appearance it had presented, it now looked almost comfortable. Nora + laughed with pleasure. “He shall come back here. It is better than + nothing. He shall stop here. I will explain things to my father by and + by,” said the girl; and then they all turned their steps homeward. + </p> + <p> + At the appointed hour that evening Nora went down to the shore. She fully + expected to find Andy Neil waiting for her. Wild and half-insane as he + was, he kept his selfmade appointments, as a rule. She wandered about, + fearing that someone would notice her; for she knew that if John Finnigan + thought for a single moment that she was secretly befriending Andy, he + would not leave a single stone unturned to circumvent her. He was very + proud of his powers of evicting tenants, and, as he had the Squire's + permission to do his worst on this occasion, would be the last man in the + world to relax his iron grip. Nora, however, wandered about in vain; there + was no sign of Andy. She even ventured to go to the borders of the + plantation and softly call his name. + </p> + <p> + “Andy—Andy Neil,” called the girl, but no Andy responded. She now + felt really nervous. Why was Andy not there? What could possibly have + happened? She returned slowly and thoughtfully to the house. It would not + do to show any alarm, but she certainly felt the reverse of comfortable. + What had happened to the man? She did not for a moment think that he could + be dead; on the contrary, she pictured him alive and still more insane + than the night before, still more desperate in his mind, still more darkly + pursued by the grim phantom of revenge. Was Andy now so really insane that + he had even forgotten his appointment with Nora? This was probably the + case. But although the man was too insane to think of meeting the girl, he + was probably not at all too insane to make another attempt on the Squire's + life. He was perhaps so desperate now that his one idea was to carry out + his revenge before he died. What was Nora to do? She thought and thought, + and walked up to the house with more and more lagging footsteps. Finally + she made up her mind. There was nothing whatever left for it but for her + to sit up with the Squire that night; she herself must be his guardian + angel, for he must not be alarmed, and yet most certainly he must be + protected. Nora carefully considered this idea. She had made the little + cabin quite ready for Andy's reception; he could creep into it once more, + light his fire, eat his food, and lie down on the bed at least, as good as + any other bed he had ever slumbered on; and if death came to him, it would + find him in his old house, and perhaps God would forgive him, seeing that + he was so desperate and life had been so hard. Yes, Nora felt that God was + very merciful—far more merciful than man. But to-night—how was + to-night to be got through? She had now reached the yard, and found + herself face to face with Angus. + </p> + <p> + “Is there nothing I can do for you, miss?” said the young man, touching + his hat respectfully to the girl. + </p> + <p> + “If you could be near somewhere, Angus, and if it were necessary, and we + wanted the long cart to-night, could we get it?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask me, Miss Nora, what we could get and what we could not get at + O'Shanaghgan,” answered Angus; “and I answer ye back that what ye want, + Miss Nora, ye shall have, if it is the heart out of me body. The long + cart, is it? To be sure, me pretty lady, and at a moment's notice, too. + Why, it's meself will slape in the bottom of the long cart this blessed + night, and all you has to do is to come and pull the front lock of me + hair, and I'll be up in a jiffy. You give it a sharp tug, Miss Nora, for I + slapes heavy; but if you come, the long cart and the powny will be there.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that's all right,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + She went into the barn. The Squire had now contrived to renew all his old + accustomed habits. On the little wooden table was a small lamp which + smoked badly; the local paper was laid on the table, and the pipe which + the Squire best loved lay near. He had been enjoying a good smoke, and was + thinking of turning in, as he expressed it, when Nora appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, father,” she said. She went up to him, and bent down over + him, to give him her accustomed kiss. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, it's sleepy I am,” said the Squire. “I am thinking of turning + into bed. I am getting on fine; and Angus, boy that he is, always comes + and gives me a helping hand on to my bed. I cannot see your face with the + smoke of that lamp, mavoureen; but things are all right—aren't + they?” + </p> + <p> + “That they are, father,” replied the girl; “but I am a little tired; and + if Angus is coming to help you, and you do not want anything more from me, + I will go to bed myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do that,” said the Squire. “Your voice sounds peaky; you have been doing + too much.” + </p> + <p> + Nora lingered another moment or two. How thankful she felt that that smoky + lamp prevented her father reading the anxiety in her eyes! She could not + keep all the tiredness out of her voice, but she could at least keep + anxiety from it; and the Squire bade her a hearty goodnight, and parted + with her with one of his usual jokes. Nora then went into the house. The + hour for late dinner was over; she herself had not been present, but Molly + had managed to appear as usual. Nora ran down to the kitchen premises. The + cook, a very stately English woman, stared when she saw the young lady of + the Castle appear in the great kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Miss O'Shanaghgan?” she said, gazing at Nora all over. What + did this wild and eccentric girl want? How was it possible that she could + demean herself by coming so freely into the servants' premises? + </p> + <p> + “I want to know, Mrs. Shaw,” said Nora, “if you will oblige me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will, Miss O'Shanaghgan; if I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you pack a little basket with some cold pie, and anything else tasty + and nourishing which you have got; and will you put a tiny bottle of + brandy into the basket, and also a bottle of water; and can I have it at + once, for I am in a great hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is a fresh pigeon pie in the larder,” answered the cook; “but + why should you want it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! please, Mrs. Shaw,” answered Nora, “will you give it to me without + asking questions? I will love you for all the rest of my life if you + will.” + </p> + <p> + “Love me, is it?” thought the cook. “A pretty creature like that love me!” + </p> + <p> + “Your love is cheaply purchased, miss,” she said aloud, and then went + without a word into the larder, and soon returned with a well-filled + basket, which she placed in Nora's hand. “And I added some fruit, a little + cup of jelly, and a knife and fork and a spoon, and some salt; but why + you, Miss Nora, should need a picnic in the middle of the night beats me.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember our compact,” said Nora. “You say nothing of this, and—I + love you;” and then, overcome by a sudden impulse, she bent forward and + laid the lightest of kisses on the astonished Mrs. Shaw's forehead. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Shaw felt slightly overawed. “Bless her! What a beautiful young lady + she is!” thought the good woman. “But the ways of the Irish beat all + comprehension.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. — THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. + </h2> + <p> + Nora avoided Molly that night. On reflection, it occurred to her that it + would be best for Molly to know nothing of her design. If she were in + complete ignorance, no amount of questioning could elicit the truth. Nora + went into her bedroom, and changed her pretty jacket and skirt and neat + sailor hat for a dark-blue skirt and blouse of the same material. Over + these she put a long, old-fashioned cloak which at one time had belonged + to her mother. Over her head she tied a little red handkerchief, and, + having eaten a small portion of Mrs. Shaw's provisions, she left the room. + It was already night-time; and Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, Molly, and the servants + had gone to bed. Nora now locked her door from the outside, slipped the + key into her pocket, and her basket of provisions partly hidden under the + falls of her cloak, ran downstairs. The dogs generally slept in the big + hall; but they knew Nora's step, and rose slowly, wagging their heavy + tails. Nora patted them on their heads, gave them each an endearing word, + and stooped to kiss pretty Cushla on her black forehead. She then softly + unbolted one of the windows, lifted the sash, and got out. She carefully + shut the window as noiselessly as she had opened it. She now found herself + on the grassy sward in the neighborhood of the drawing-room. Under the old + <i>rĂ©gime</i> that sward was hard, and knotty tufts of weed as well as + grass grew up here and there in profusion; but already, under the English + government, it was beginning to assume the velvet-like appearance which a + properly kept lawn ought to have. + </p> + <p> + Nora hated to feel such softness; she disliked everything which seemed to + her to flavor of the English and their ways. There was a hot, rebellious + feeling in her heart. Why should these things be? Why should not her Irish + land and her Irish people be left in their wild freedom? She ran round to + the yard. Angus had received instructions to leave the little postern door + on the latch, and Nora now opened it and went softly in. The moon was + beginning to rise, but was not at the full. There was, however already + sufficient light for her to see each object with distinctness. She went + and sat down in the shadow made by the great barn. She sat on the step to + the barn, wrapping her warm cloak tightly round her, and keeping her + basket of provisions by her side. Here she would sit all night, if + necessary. Her vigil might have no result, but at any rate it would insure + her father from danger. For now only over Nora's dead body could the wild + Andy Neil approach the Squire. + </p> + <p> + “Andy shall kill me first,” she thought; “and if I die, I will scream and + father will awaken. Angus is on the watch; the alarm will be given; at + least my father's life will be spared. But why do I think of danger of + this sort? Andy will not kill me. I place my trust in God. I am doing the + right thing—I know I am doing the right thing.” + </p> + <p> + When Nora had let herself in at the postern door she had immediately drawn + the bolt at the other side, thus preventing anyone else from entering the + great yard by the same way; but she knew that, although Andy could not now + enter the yard, in all probability he was already hiding there. There were + no end to the ways and devices of a wild Irishman of Andy's sort. He was + so thin and emaciated, too, that he could squeeze himself into the tiniest + space. It lay in his power to remain motionless all night, until the + moment when his revenge was ripe. Nora sat on. She heard the old clock in + the ancient tower of the Castle strike the hours. That old clock had been + severely animadverted on by Mrs. O'Shanaghgan on account of the cracked + sound in the bell; but Nora felt relieved to find that, amongst all the + modern innovations, the old clock still held its own; it had not, at + least, <i>yet</i>, been removed from the tower. It struck solemnly now the + hour of midnight. + </p> + <p> + “The witching hour,” thought the girl. “The hour when the Banshee walks + abroad. I wonder if I shall see her. I should like to see her. Did she + hear me when I called to her in the cave? Would she help me if she came to + my rescue now? She belongs to us; she is our own Banshee; she has belonged + to our family for many, many generations.” + </p> + <p> + Nora thought these thoughts; but then the feeling that <i>Someone</i> else + who never fails those who trust Him was also watching her during this + silent hour came to her with a sense of comfort. She could hear her father + turning once or twice in the creaky old wooden bed. She was glad to feel + that, unknown to him, she was his guardian angel. She began to think about + the future, and almost to forget Andy and the possible and very great + peril of the present, when, shortly before the hour of one, all her senses + were preternaturally excited by the sound of a footfall. It was a very + soft footfall—the noise made by a bare foot. Nora heard it just + where the shadow was deepest. She stood up now; she knew that, from her + present position, the one who was making this dead sort of heavy sound + could not possibly see her. She waited, her breath coming hard and fast. + For a minute, or perhaps more, there was again absolute and complete + silence. The night was a breathless one; there was not a sound abroad; + overhead the sky was of an inky blue-black, the stars were shining + gloriously, and the moon was growing brighter and more clear, and more + nearly approaching her meridian each moment. The girl stood with her hand + pressed against her beating heart; she had flung aside her little red + handkerchief, and her hair had fallen loose and was tumbling over her + shoulders; she raised her other hand to her left ear to listen more + intently—she was in the attitude of one about to spring. + </p> + <p> + Again there came the sound which she expected, and which, now that it had + arrived, caused her heart to beat no longer with fear, but with a sort of + wild exultation. Her suspicions had been right—the danger was real; + her father's most precious life was in peril. The steps came quicker and + more quick; they approached the other window of the barn. This window lay + in complete shadow. Nora now stepped out of her hiding place, and, going + with two or three quick strides down the yard, waited within a foot or two + of the man, who now proceeded to lift himself up by the window ledge + preparatory to opening the barn window. With the aid of a claspknife he + could very easily push back the quaint and imperfect fastening; then it + was but to push in the glass, and he could enter the barn. He sat on the + window ledge with his back to Nora. His huge, gaunt form looked larger + than ever, intensified now by the light of the moon. He breathed quickly; + his breathing proclaimed that he himself was in physical suffering. + </p> + <p> + “Andy,” said Nora in a low, very low whisper. + </p> + <p> + But this low tone was as startling to the madman on the window as though a + pistol shot had been sounded in his ears. + </p> + <p> + “Be the powers!” he said, and he tumbled so quickly off the window sill + that Nora herself held out her hand to help him. Then he turned fiercely + and faced the girl. She saw the light of madness gleaming in his sunken + eyes; his wild face looked more cadaverous than ever; his great, skinny, + long hand shook. He raised it as if to fell the girl to the ground, but + paused to look in her face, and then his hand hung feebly to his side. + </p> + <p> + Nora had enacted all this scene beforehand to herself; she now thrust into + Andy's face, within an inch or two of his nose, a great lump of bread and + a slab of cold pie. + </p> + <p> + “Before you do anything more, eat,” she said; “eat quickly; make no + noise.” + </p> + <p> + It was as impossible for the famished man to resist the good and tempting + food as it would have been impossible for a needle to resist the influence + of a powerful magnet. He grasped the bread, thrust the knife into his + wretched shirt, and, tearing the bread in fragments, began to stuff it + into his mouth. For a couple of minutes there was no sound but that of the + starved creature tearing the bread and feeding himself. When he had + slightly satisfied the first cravings of his starved body Nora took his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “You have not had enough yet,” she said. “You have fasted long, and are + very hungry; there is more where this came from.” + </p> + <p> + She took his hand quite unresistingly, and led him round to the entrance + of the barn. + </p> + <p> + “I am up,” she said, “but no one else. No one else knows of this. You have + come without a gun?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a knife instead,” he said. His eye glittered strangely. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your knife,” said the girl. “I will give you food in exchange for + it.” + </p> + <p> + The famished creature began to gibber now in the most horrible manner; he + pointed to his breast and uttered a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Laugh again, and I will call those who will soon put a stop to your wild + and terrible purposes, Andy,” said the girl, “Here's food—fruit, + jelly, bread. You shall have them all—all, when you give me that + knife.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at the food, and now his eyes softened. They became full + not only of rapture, but also of laughter. He gave a low guttural sound, + sank down on the ground, and held out both his hands imploringly for some + of the nourishment. + </p> + <p> + “The knife,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + He thrust his hands into his bosom and held the knife out to her. It was a + huge clasp knife, and Nora noticed with a shudder that it had all the + appearance of having been newly sharpened. The moment she got it she put + it in her pocket, and then invited the man to feed. He sat now quite + humbly. Nora helped him to pie. She had already taken the precaution to + hide the knife which Mrs. Shaw had supplied her with. The man ate and ate, + until his consuming hunger was satisfied. Nora now gave him a very little + of the brandy mixed with water. He lay back at last, exhausted and also + satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “It's wake I am, it's wake I am—it's wake I am entoirely,” said he. + “Why are you so good to me, Miss Nora? It was to take the life of the + Squire I was afther to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew that,” said Nora, “and I thought I would prevent you. Why did you + not meet me this evening down by the shore?” + </p> + <p> + The miserable creature now raised his hand and pushed back a gray lock of + unkempt hair from his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” he said, “it was bothered I was entoirely. I knew there was + something I had got to do. It was waker and waker I was getting, for I did + not touch bite nor sup since I saw you last, except a morsel of a cold + pitatie; and there was not much of the nourishment in that; and as the + night came, I could not think of anything except to keep me word and have + me victory.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have had it,” said Nora. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mane now, missie?” + </p> + <p> + “You have conquered yourself; that is the best victory of all. But come, + you made a bargain with me last night, and I am prepared to keep it. I + went down to the shore to tell you that I would do what you wanted me to + do. The cabin is ready on Slieve Nagorna; we have made it fairly + comfortable for you; and I will do better—yes, I will try to do + better by and by. I will speak to my father when he is strong enough. Go + to Slieve Nagorna now, and you will find the old cot in which you were + born. You can sleep there, and—and <i>I</i>—I will see that + you are not interfered with.” + </p> + <p> + “The old cot in which I was born,” said Neil very slowly. “The old cot, + and I'll see it again. Is it a-joking me you are, Miss Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Would I joke with you just now, Andy? Would I?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it's saft you are making me. There was a lump of ice in me; but, + somehow, it's melted. It's the food and your bonny face, and yer ways. But + do you know that it was your <i>father</i> I wanted to kill—t'ould + Squire? There, I have said it!” + </p> + <p> + “I know—and I have saved him,” answered Nora. “But come, he may hear + us speaking; he would wonder. I do not want him to know anything of this + night. When he is stronger I will plead with him. Come, Andy, come; your + home is ready for you. Go back to it.” + </p> + <p> + The man tottered to his feet, and began to stagger across the barn. + </p> + <p> + “Stay! you are not strong enough,” said the girl. “Come outside the yard, + here; come with me.” + </p> + <p> + She walked across the yard, reached the little postern gate, and opened + it. + </p> + <p> + “Come out and wait,” she said in a mysterious voice. “You cannot walk to + Slieve Nagorna, and yet you must get there; but I will get Angus to take + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Angus! ay, he is a true Irish boy. Aw, I'd trust him.” + </p> + <p> + “You well may; he is a broth of a boy,” said Nora. “Sit there. I will soon + be back with you.” + </p> + <p> + She shut Andy out, bolting the little gate. The man heard the bolt being + drawn, but did not move; he had not the slightest fear but that Nora would + keep her word. She ran across the yard and opened the door of the barn at + the farther end. Angus was already awake; he heard her light step. + </p> + <p> + “Is it me you're wanting, Miss Nora?” + </p> + <p> + “Angus, all is well,” she said. “What I wanted to do I have succeeded in + doing. It is Andy Neil who is without; he is broken down and is very weak. + Get the long cart and take him to the foot of Slieve Nagorna, help him up + the mountain, and see him into the old cot where he was born. Good-night, + Angus, and God bless you.” + </p> + <p> + Nora returned to her own bedroom. She unlocked the door and let herself + in. Without waiting even to undress, she flung herself on the bed, curled + herself up, and went off into dreamless slumber. When she woke again it + was broad daylight, and Molly was standing over her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nora, you have lain undressed all night! What—what has + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not ask me,” said Nora. “Do not ask me. I have done what I wanted to + do, and I am thankful.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won't really tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't. I cannot ever. There is more to attend to, Molly; you and I + have got to go to Slieve Nagorna immediately after breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Molly did not ask anything further. + </p> + <p> + “I brought your hot water,” she said. “You do not want any of the grand + English servants to see you look like this.” + </p> + <p> + “What a dear old thing you are!” said Nora. “I am so grateful to you.” + </p> + <p> + She got up, took off her clothes, indulged in a hot bath, and came down to + breakfast looking exactly as if she had spent an ordinary night. Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan was a little more fretful than ever, and told Nora that her + conduct was making her mother quite ridiculous in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + “I met those remarkably nice people, the Setons of Seton Court, + yesterday,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan—“charming English people—and + they asked me if it was really true that my husband, the owner of Castle + O'Shanaghgan, was sleeping in a barn.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you answer, mother?” asked Nora, her dark-blue eyes bright + with sudden fun. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, I made the best of it. I could not deny such a patent + fact. I said that the eccentricities of Irish squires were proverbial. But + you can imagine, my dear Nora, my mortification as I had to make this + admission. If this sort of thing goes on I shall ask your uncle to let the + place, and allow us all to live in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, mother,” said her daughter. “You ought to be thankful this + morning—you ought to be. Oh, mother! do give me a loving kiss. It is + so long, so long since you have done so, and somehow I am tired, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Tired!” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, alarmed and surprised by the new tone in + Nora's voice. “You look tired. How black those shadows are under your + eyes! and you have lost some of your color. There! of course I will kiss + you, and I hope I am thankful, for we certainly have had wonderful mercies + since your dear Uncle George came over and delivered us all. But what do + you mean by special thankfulness this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, mother,” said Nora. “Only <i>do</i> be thankful, <i>do</i> + thank God for His mercies; and oh, mother, do give me that kiss!” + </p> + <p> + “There, child! of course you shall have it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Shanaghgan pressed her lips lightly to Nora's cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Now eat your breakfast,” she said. “These eggs are quite fresh, and the + honey was bought only yesterday—you know you are fond of honey—and + these hot cakes are made in a new and particularly nice way. Eat plenty, + Nora, and do, my dear, try to restrain your emotions. It is quite terrible + what wear and tear you give yourself over these feelings. It is really, my + dear girl, unladylike; and let me tell you another thing, that when you + lose your fresh wild-rose color, you will lose the greater part of your + beauty. Dear me! it will not stay long with you if you excite yourself + about every hand's turn in the ridiculous way you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + Nora did not say any more. She sat down to the breakfast table. Was her + mother right? Was she indeed exciting herself over every hand's turn, and + was that thing which had happened last night—which, now that it was + over, caused her heart to beat a trifle too fast, and brought that tired, + that very tired feeling into her sensitive frame—was that indeed but + a trifling thing? Thank God—oh, thank God—she had been in + time! + </p> + <p> + Soon after breakfast Nora and Molly started once more for Slieve Nagorna. + They went on the outside car this time, and Nora found her strength and + courage returning as she handled the reins and urged Black Bess to speed. + They presently reached their destination. Nora fastened up the horse as + she had done on the previous day, and the girls began to climb the + mountain. + </p> + <p> + “You must not be afraid when you see Andy,” said Nora. “He was very weak + last night, and will in all probability be in his house. I am going to + arrange to have provisions sent to him every day. He will stay there now + that he has got back again.” + </p> + <p> + “But how has he got back again? You will remember you never told me what + happened last night.” + </p> + <p> + “And you must not ask me, Molly. What happened last night can never be + told by me to any human being. Only Angus knows something of it; and Angus + will not tell anyone else.” + </p> + <p> + “And you were frightened? You look, Nora, as if you had gone through a + great deal.” + </p> + <p> + “I went through more than anyone will ever know,” said Nora, “but I am + very thankful.” + </p> + <p> + The girls had now reached the old cabin. The tarpaulin was over the roof, + but there was no smoke issuing from the hole. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder he did not light his fire,” said Nora in an anxious voice. “Will + you go in with me, Molly, or shall I go alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go in with you,” said Molly stoutly. “If you are not afraid, neither + will I be.” + </p> + <p> + “I afraid now?” said Nora, with a smile. “Come, Molly, I hope the poor + creature is not very ill.” + </p> + <p> + Both girls entered the cabin. The tarpaulin had been so contrived that a + piece hung over, and formed a temporary door. Nora now pushed it aside, + and they both stepped into the miserable cabin. Andy was lying on the + straw; the basket of provisions had not yet been touched, nor was the fire + lit. Andy lay very still and quiet on the straw. Nora went up to him; his + eyes were shut, and his head was slightly turned round, so that she could + not at first get a proper glimpse of his face. She went on her knees, then + presently touched his forehead with her own slim hand, calling his name + softly at the same time. There was no answer—there would never be an + answer again, for the wild Irishman was dead. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. — “I'M A HAPPY MAN!” + </h2> + <p> + It was just before Christmas, and the preparations for the festive season + were great at Castle O'Shanaghgan. The Squire was quite well again. Once + more he walked all over his estate; once more he talked to his tenants; + once more he joked and laughed with the other squires of the neighborhood. + To a certain extent he had grown accustomed to the grand house with its + grand furniture; to the terrible late dinner, at which he stoutly declined + to appear in evening dress; to the English servants who knew none of his + ways. He began to bear with these things, for Light o' the Morning, as he + called his beloved Nora, was always by his side, and at night he could + cast off the yoke which was so burdensome, and do what he liked in the + barn. At Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's earnest request this barn was now rendered a + tolerably comfortable bedroom; the walls had been papered, and the worst + of the draughts excluded. A huge fireplace had been built out at one end, + and the Squire did not object at all to a large turf fire on a cold night; + but the old bedstead from Cronane still occupied its old place of honor in + the best position in the room, the little deal table was destitute of + cloth or ornament of any kind, and the tarpaulin on the floor was not + rendered more luxurious by the presence of rugs. + </p> + <p> + “Rugs indeed!” said the Squire, snorting almost like a wild beast when his + wife ventured to suggest a few of these comforts. “It is tripping me up + you'd be? Rugs indeed! I know better.” + </p> + <p> + But compared to its condition when the Squire first occupied it, the barn + was now a fairly comfortable bedroom, and Squire Murphy, Squire + Fitzgerald, Squire Terence Malone, and the other squires of the + neighborhood had many a good smoke there, and many a hearty laugh, as they + said, quite “unbeknownst” to the English lady and her grand friends. And + Nora, Molly, and even Biddy Murphy often shared in these festive times, + laughing at the best jokes, and adding sundry witticisms on their own + account. + </p> + <p> + It was now, however, Christmas Eve, and Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's nearest + English relatives were coming to spend the festive season at the Castle. + Mrs. Hartrick, for the first time in her life, was to find herself in Old + Ireland. Linda was also accompanying her mother, and Terence O'Shanaghgan + was coming back for a brief visit to the home which one day would be his. + Terence was now permanently settled in his uncle's office, and was likely + to make an excellent man of business. Mr. Hartrick was glad of this, for + he would much prefer the O'Shanaghgans to have money of their own in the + future, rather than to depend on him to keep up the old place. Inwardly + the Squire was fretting and fuming a good bit at Mr. Hartrick really + owning Castle O'Shanaghgan. + </p> + <p> + “I must say, after all's said and done, the man is a gentleman,” he + remarked to his daughter; “but it frets me sore, Nora, that I should hold + the place under him.” + </p> + <p> + “It's better, surely, than not having it at all,” answered Nora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, be the powers! it is that,” said the Squire; “but when I say so, + it's about all. But I'll own the truth to you now, Nora: when they were + smothering me up in that dreadful bedroom before you came, mavourneen, I + almost wished that I had sold the place out and out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but, father, that time is long over,” answered Nora; “and I believe + that, after all, it will be good for the poor people round here that you + should stay with them, and that there should be plenty of money to make + their cabins comfortable, and to give them a chance in life.” + </p> + <p> + “If I thought that, there'd not be another grumble out of me,” said the + Squire. “I declare to you, Nora, I'd even put on that abominable dinner + suit which your lady mother ordered from the best Dublin tailors. My word! + but it's cramped and fussed I feel in it. But I'd put it on, and do more + than that, for the sake of the poor souls who have too little of this + world's goods.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father, do believe that it is so,” said Nora; and now she put one + of her soft arms round his neck, and raised herself on tiptoe and kissed + his cheek. “Believe that it is so, for this morning I went round to the + people, and in every cabin there was a bit of bacon, and a half-sack of + potatoes, and fagots, and a pile of turf; and in every cabin they were + blessing you, father; they think that you have sent them these Christmas + gifts.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” said the Squire, “it's sore to me that I have not done it; but I + must say it's thoughtful of George Hartrick—very thoughtful. I am + obliged to him—I cannot say more. Did you tell me the things were + sent to every cabin, Nora—all over the place, alannah?” + </p> + <p> + “Every cabin, father,” answered his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Then, that being the case, I'll truss myself up tonight. I will truly. + Mortal man couldn't do more.” + </p> + <p> + The preparations, not only outside but inside, for the arrival of the + English family were going on with vigor. Pretty suites of rooms were being + put into their best holiday dress for the visitors. Huge fires blazed + merrily all over the house. Hothouse flowers were in profusion; hothouse + fruit graced the table. The great hall quite shone with firelight and the + gleam of dark old oak. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan dressed herself in her most regal + black velvet dress for this auspicious occasion; and Nora, Molly, and even + Biddy Murphy, all in white, danced excitedly in the hall. For Biddy + Murphy, at Nora's special suggestion, had been asked to spend Christmas at + the Castle. It was truly good to see her. Notwithstanding her celestial + nose and very wide mouth, it would have been difficult to have looked at a + happier face than hers. And, Irish as Biddy was, she had got the knack of + coming round Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. She did this by her simple and undisguised + admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. O'Shanaghgan!” Biddy would cry, “it is the very most lovely + thing I have ever clapped eyes on. I never saw anything so magnificent as + this room. It's fairyland; the whole place is fairyland;” and as Biddy + spoke her eyes would twinkle, and her big mouth would open, showing her + immaculate white teeth. So much did she contrive to win over Mrs. + O'Shanaghgan that that lady presented her with a soft white muslin dress + for the present occasion. If Biddy was proud before, she was almost + rampant with pleasure now. She twirled round, and gazed at herself in the + long mirrors which had been inserted in the hall between the oak panels. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, it's proud me ancestors, the old Irish kings, would be of me + now,” she was even heard to say. + </p> + <p> + But, all things being ready, the time at last approached when the tired + travelers would arrive. At the eleventh hour there had come a great + surprise to Nora and Molly; for Mrs. Hartrick and Linda were bringing + Stephanotie with them. How this came to pass was more than either girl + could possibly conjecture; but they both felt that it was the final crown + of their happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Can I ever forget,” said Nora, “that but for Stephanotie lending us that + money I should not have been able to run away to Ireland, and my dear, + dearest father might not now have been alive?” + </p> + <p> + But the sound of wheels was at last heard without. + </p> + <p> + “Come, girleens, and let's give them a proper Irish welcome,” said the + Squire, standing on the steps of the old house. + </p> + <p> + Nora ran to him, and he put his arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, Nora, as the carriage comes up, you help me with the big Irish + cheer. Hip, hip, hurrah! and <i>Caed Mille a Faitha</i>. Now then, let + every one who has got a drop of Irish blood in him or her raise the old + cheer.” + </p> + <p> + Poor gentle English Mrs. Hartrick turned quite pale when she heard these + sounds; but Mr. Hartrick was already beginning to understand his Irish + relatives; and as to Stephanotie, she sprang from the carriage, rushed up + the steps, and thrust a huge box of bon-bons into Squire O'Shanaghgan's + face. + </p> + <p> + “I am an American girl,” she said; “but I guess that, whether one is Irish + or American, one likes a right-down good sweetheart. Have a bon-bon, + Squire O'Shanaghgan, for I guess that you are the man to enjoy it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why then, my girl, I'd like one very much,” said the Squire; “but don't + bother me for a bit, for I have to speak to my English relatives.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come along in, Stephanotie, do,” said Molly. “I see that you are just + as eccentric and as great a darling as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'm not likely to change,” answered Stephanotie. “I was born with + a love of bon-bons, and I'll keep it to the end of the chapter.” + </p> + <p> + But now Mrs. Hartrick and Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had met. The two English + ladies immediately began to understand each other. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, + without a word, slipped her hand inside her sister-in-law's arm, and they + walked slowly across the magnificent hall and up the wide stairs to the + palatial bedroom got ready for the traveler. + </p> + <p> + Then the fun and excitement downstairs became fast and furious. The Squire + clapped his brother-in-law, George Hartrick, on the shoulder; the Squire + laughed; the Squire very nearly hallooed. Terence looked round him in + undisguised amazement. + </p> + <p> + “I would not have known the old place,” he said, turning to Nora. + </p> + <p> + Nora gave a quick sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Where is my mother?” said the lad then. + </p> + <p> + “She has gone upstairs with Aunt Grace; but run after her, Terry, do,” + said his sister. + </p> + <p> + Terence gave another glance round, in which pride for the home where he + was born kindled once more in his dark eyes. He then rushed up the stairs + three steps at a time. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” said the Squire, “it's cramped and bothered I am in these + clothes. What possesses people to make Merry-andrews of themselves night + after night beats my comprehension. In my old velveteen jacket and + knee-breeches I am a man—in this tomfoolery I do not feel as good as + my own footman.” + </p> + <p> + “You look very well in your dinner dress all the same, O'Shanaghgan,” said + Mr. Hartrick. And he added, glancing from Nora to her father, “I am glad + to see you quite recovered.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it's she has done it,” said the Squire, drawing Nora forward and + pressing her close to his heart. “She's a little witch. She has done fine + things for me, and I am a happy man to-night. Yes, I will own to it now, + I'm a happy man; and perhaps there are more things in the world than we + Irish people know of. Since I have my barn to sleep in I can bear the + house, and I am much obliged to you, George—much obliged to you. + But, all the same, it's downright I'd have hated you, when you altered + this old place past knowing, had it not been for my little girl, Light o' + the Morning, as I call her.” + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Light O' The Morning, by L. T. 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