UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL Y^f llillllllil! 1±5LlJ^2 00022229063 3J5e JOHN SKALLY TERRY MEMORIAL COLLECTION ESTABLISHED BY THE FAMILY IN HONOR OF JOHN S. TERRY CLASS OF 1918 THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA LIBRARY Lihrttf Srhool w*-;/' V~tnni, 7^ This BOOK may be kept out TWO WEEKS W / J ONLY ' and is su °J ect to a fine of FIVE yO-^f^ CENTS a day thereafter. It is DUE on the I DAY indicated below: SHE FELL ON HER KNEES BEFORE HER UNCLE COULD PREVENT HER, TOOK HIS HAND, AND KISSED IT. P. 155. LIGHT O' THE MORNING The Story of an Irish Girl BY L. T. MEADE AUTHOR OF " THE GIRLS OF ST. WODE's," " WILD KITTY, "CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE," "GIRLS NEW AND OLD," " BETTY," ETC. THE MERSHON COMPANY RAHWAY, N. J. NEW YORK Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil http://www.archive.org/details/lightomorningstoOOmead CONTENTS. CHAPTER FAGE I. Nora, i II. " Some More of the Land Must Go,' 7 III. The Wild Murphys, • 13 IV. The Invitation, 22 V. "I Am Ashamed of You," . • 30 VI. The Cave of the Banshee, . 37 VII. The Murphys, . 51 VIII. The Squire's Trouble, . 58 IX. Education and Other Things, . 66 X. The Invitation, • 75 XI. The Diamond Cross, . 87 XII. A Feather-bed House, . . 103 XIII. "There's Molly," . ■ . 109 XIV. Bits of Slang, 115 XV. Two Letters, . 127 XVI. A Cheeky Irish Girl, . . 136 XVII. Two Descriptions, 144 XVIII. A Compact, .... 150 XIX. "She Will Soon Tame Down,** . 156 XX. Stephanotie, .... 162 XXI. The Rose-colored Dress, 175 XXII. Letters, 184 XXIII. The Box of Bon-bons, . . , 194 XXIV. The Telegram, .... 199 XXV. The Blow, 204 XXVI. Ten Pounds, 210 iii 599135 IV CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXVII. Adventures— and Home Again, .... 223 XXVIII. The Wild Irish, . 231 XXIX. Alterations, .... . 240 XXX. The Lion in His Cage, . 248 XXXI. Release of the Captive, . 258 XXXII. Andy . 265 XXXIII. The Cabin on the Mountain, . 273 XXXIV. A Daring Deed, . 284 XXXV. The Cot where He Was Born, . . 294 XXXVI. " I'm a Happy Man," . . 306 LIGHT O' THE MORNING. CHAPTER I. NORA. "Why, then, Miss Nora " "Yes, Hannah?" " You didn't see the masther going this way, miss ? " " What do you mean, Hannah ? Father is never at home at this hour." " I thought maybe " said Hannah. She spoke in a dubious voice, backing a little away. 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 net- work of wrinkles. She showed a gleam of snowy teeth now, as she looked full at the young girl whom she was addressing. " Ah, then, Miss Nora," she said, " it's I that am sorry for yez." Before Nora O'Shanaghgan could utter a word Han- nah had turned on her heel. " Come back, Hannah," said Nora in an imperious voice. 2 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " Presently, darlint ; it's the childer I hear calling me. Coming, Mike asthore, coming." 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. Han- nah 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. Castle O'Shanaghgan was a typical Irish home of the ancient regime. 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 distinc- tion 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. In the southwest of Ireland there are traces of Span- ish 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 complex- ion, 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. NORA. 3 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. "Where is mother, Pegeen?" she said to a rough- looking, somewhat slatternly servant who was crossing the hall. " In the north parlor, Miss Nora." " 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 some- what noisy bang, the dogs precipitated themselves into the room, and she followed. " Ah, then, mother dear ! and have I disturbed you ? " she said. 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. " 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." " 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?" 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 fore- head, and her eyes became dim with tears. 4 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " Have you heard the last thing, Nora ? " " There are so many last things, mother," said Nora. " 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 fore- close, as he calls it, within three months if that money is not paid in full. I know well what it means." Nora smiled. She took her mother's hand in hers, and began to stroke it gently. " 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 " "That what, child?" " That we O'Shanaghgans are the proudest and oldest family in the county, and that there is scarcely an Eng- lishman across the water who would not give all he pos- sesses to change places with us." " You talk like a silly child," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan ; " and please remember that I am English." " 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. " 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 ? " " 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 reallv like." NORA. 5 " I don't want to realize any home different from this," said the girl, a cloud shading her bright eyes for the mo- ment. " You are silly and prejudiced," said Mrs. O'Shanagh- gan. " It is a great trial to me to have a daughter so un- sympathetic." " 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." The frown cleared from Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's fore- head, and the peevish lines went out of her face. She be- gan 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. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan began the old tale to-night, telling it with a little more verve even than usual. She ended at last with a sigh. " Oh, the beautiful old times ! " she said. " 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." " Of course not, darling, and you make up for much ; 6 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. but, Nora dear, although I love my husband and my chil- dren, I hate this country. I hate it ! " " 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 : "Where's Light o' the Morning? Where have you hidden yourself, witch ? " " 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. CHAPTER II. " SOME MORE OF THE LAND MUST GO." 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 mus- tache. He entered the north parlor still more noisily than Nora had done. The dogs yelped with delight, and flung themselves upon him. " 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 ! " " 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." "Shut the door, won't you, Patrick?" said his wife. " 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. " Better, Eileen? " he said, looking at her anxiously. " I wish you would not call me Eileen," she said. " I hate to have my name Irishized." The Squire's eyes filled with suppressed fun. " 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 8 LIGHT O' THE MORNING. stables. I want to go as far as Murphy's place, and you might as well come with me." " And I too?" said Nora. " To be sure, child. Why not ? You run round to the stables, Norrie, and give the order." Nora instantly left the room, the dogs following her. " What ails her? " said the Squire, looking at his wife. " Ails her, Pat? Nothing that I know of." " 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 near- est table. " Don't, Pat. You quite shatter my nerves." " Bless you and your nerves, Ellen. I want to give them all possible consideration; but I won't have Light o' the Morning worried." " You'll spoil that girl ; you'll rue it yet." "Bless her heart! I couldn't spoil her; she's unspoil- able. Did you ever see a sweeter bit of a thing, sound to the core, through and through? " " 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." " You have been trying that on — eh ? " " Well, not exactly, Pat ; but you cannot expect me to keep all our troubles to ourselves. There's that mort- gage, you know." " Bother the mortgage ! " said the Squire. " Why do you harp on things the way you do? Til manage it right enough. I am going round to see Dan Murphy now ; he won't be hard on an old friend." " Yes ; but have you not to pay up ? " 'SOME MORE OF THE LAND MUST GO." 9 " Some day, I suppose." " Now listen, Patrick. Do be reasonable. When- ever I speak of money you fight shy of the subject." " 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." " No ; I won't have it. We'll have tea in the dining room presently. I thought you objected to afternoon tea." " 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." " Ring the bell, Patrick." 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. " Come right in, Margaret," said her mistress. " Aw ! then, I'm sorry, ma'am, I forgot," said the girl. She came in, hiding hiding both her hands under her apron. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan uttered an impatient sigh. " It is impossible to train these creatures," she said un- der her breath. Aloud, she gave her order in quiet, im- passive tones : " Tea as soon as possible in the west parlor, and sound the gong when it is ready." " Why, then, wasn't I getting it? " said Pegeen. She left the room, leaving the door wide open. " 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." 10 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " They do that in England too, as far as I can tell," said the Squire, with a slightly nettled tone in his voice. " 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 ? " " I am sure, Ellen, it is more than I can tell you." " You will have to pay it, you know." " I suppose so, some day. I'll speak to Dan to-night. He is the last man to be hard on a chap." " 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." " 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." " 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. " Well, well ! he is Terence O'Shanaghgan, for all that, and he will inherit this old place some day." " Much there will be for him to inherit." Eager steps were heard on the gravel, and the next in- stant Nora entered by the open window. " I have given the order," she said ; " Angus will have the trap round in a quarter of an hour." " That's right, my girl ; you didn't let time drag," said her father. " Angus wants you and mother to be quite ready, for he says Black Bess is nearly off her head with spirit. "SOME MORE OF THE LAND MUST GO.* « Now, then, mother, shall I go upstairs and bring down your things ? " " I don't mind if you do, Nora ; my back aches a good bit." " We'll put the air-cushion in the trap," said the Squire, who, notwithstanding her fine-lady airs, had a great re- spect 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." "May I drive, father?" said Nora. " 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." " Do you think I would? " said the girl reproachfully. " Now, dad, that is about the crudest word you have said to your Nora for many a day." " Come and give me a hug, colleen," said the Squire. 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. "You are fretting about something?" " Not I — not I," said the girl ; but she flushed. " 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 me. I am going this very evening to have a talk with Dan." " Oh, if it is Dan Murphy you owe it to," said the girl. " 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 ? " " He wouldn't if he could help it," said Nora ; but the cloud had not left her sensitive face. Then, seeing that 12 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. her father looked at her with intense anxiety, she made a valiant effort. " Of course, I believe in you," she said ; " and, indeed, what does the loss of money matter while we are to- gether?" " 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 direc- tion," he said. CHAPTER III. THE WILD MURPHYS. 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 move- ments. 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. 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. The Squire made brilliant sally after sally, to which she responded with all an Irish girl's aptitude for repartee. Terence and his mother conversed in low tones. 14 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " 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 ? " " How long will you be away, Terence ? " " I don't know ; a couple of months, perhaps." " How much money will it cost ? " " I shall want an evening suit, and a new dress-suit, and something for everyday. These things are disgrace- ful," said the lad, just glancing at the frayed coat-sleeve, beneath which showed a linen cuff of immaculate white- ness. Terence was always the personification of fastidious- ness in his dress, and for this trait in his character alone Mrs. O'Shanaghgan adored him. " You shall have it," she said — " somehow." " Well, I must reply to-night," he continued. " Shall I ask the governor, or will you? " " We won't worry him, Terry ; I can manage." He looked at her a little anxiously. " You are not going to sell any more of them ? " he said. " 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." " You are the very best and noblest mother in the world," said the lad with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Nora and her father continued their gay conversation. " 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." THE WILD MURPHY S, 15 " Trust the girleen for that," said the Squire, and then they rose from table. " Ellen," he continued, addressing his wife, " have you and Terence done colloguing together? for I hear Black Bess coming to the front door." " Oh, hasten, mother ; hasten ! " said Nora. " The mare won't stand waiting; she is so fresh she is just ready to fly." The next few moments witnessed a scene of consider- able 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. " 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. " Are you going to drive ? " asked that lady. " 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. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan gave one hurried pant of sup- pressed 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 blamed with fun and hap- 1 6 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. piness. She looked back at her father, who nodded to her briefly. " 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 ! " 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. " I have not forgotten the basket, mammy," said the girl ; " and Hannah will put the eggs under the hen to- night." " I am quite certain that Hannah mismanaged the last brood," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan ; " but everything goes wrong at the Castle just now." " Oh, mother, hush ! he will hear," said Nora. " It is just like you, Nora; you wish to keep " " Oh, come, now," said the Squire ; " I hear the grum- bles 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 to- night." 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. THE WILD MURPHYS. 17 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. " Whoa ! whoa ! " he said. " Hullo, you, Mike ! Why aren't you in your place? Come and open the gate this minute, lad." 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 mead- ows were scarcely distinguishable from the avenue itself. The Squire ran after the dog-cart, and leaped up while the mare was going at full speed. " Well done, father ! " called back Nora. " Heaven preserve us ! " thought Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, who still sat speechless, and as if made of iron. At last they reached a long, rambling old house, with many small windows, interspersed with a few of enor- mous dimensions. These were called parliament win- dows, 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. " Now, mother, shall I help you down ? " " You had better find out first if Mrs. Murphy is in/' said the Squire's wife. 1 8 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. A ragged urchin, such as seemed to abound like mush- rooms 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 ? " The low words which came to his lips were not heard by anyone ; there was a frown, very like Nora's own, be- tween 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. "Hullo, O'Shanaghgan, is that yourself?" he called out. " How are you, Mrs. O'Shanaghgan? Right glad to see you. You'll rtep inside — won't you? I believe the wife is somewher . 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 in- doors this fine evening." " Where is she, Mr. Murphy? " asked the girl. " I do want to have a talk with her." " Ah ! what's the basket for ? " " I want her to give me some of the pretty brown eggs." " Well, go right down there by the sea-path, and you'll find her, as likely as not." " 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 pres- THE WILD MURPHYS. 19 ently saw a pair of laughing black eyes looking down at her from beneath the shelter of a huge oak tree. " Here I am. Will you climb up? " said the voice of Bridget Murphy. " Give me a hand, and I'll be up with you in a mo- ment," 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. ''Well, and what has brought you along here?" said Bridget. " I came with father and mother in the dog-cart," re- plied Nora. " Father let me drive Black Bess. I had a jolly time; but she did pull a bit — my wrists are quite stiff." " 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 ? " Before Nora could speak she began imitating the full liquid notes of the bird to perfection. " I declare you have a genius for it," said Nora. " But how are you yourself, Biddy?" " 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 al- annah ? " " It's that mortgage, you know," said Nora, dropping her voice. " What is your father going to do ? " " 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." 20 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " Your father, you mean ? " " I can't tell you ; don't question me. I am glad you have come. Can't you stay for the night ? " " 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." " I suppose he would. What do you want to coax out of me now ? Oh, Nora alannah ! don't let us talk of wor- ries. 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." "Do you mean the Sea-Nymphs' Cave?" said Nora. " But you can only get to that by crossing the bay." "Yes. Well, I am going to-morrow night; the moon is at the full. You will come over and go with me — won't you? " " Oh ! I wish I could." " But why can't you? Don't let us worry about fathers and mothers. WVre a pair of girls, and must have our own larks. There's Neil and there's Mike ; they will gel 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?" " I should like it of all things in the world," said Nora. " Well, why not? You can come over to-morrow af- ternoon, and stay the night here. Just say that I have asked you." " But mother does not much like my sleeping out." THE WILD MURPHYS. 21 " 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 com- pany 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 " " 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." " 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." CHAPTER IV. THE INVITATION. 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' de- cidedly dilapidated residence. They had to cross a court- yard 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 hay- rick 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 whin- nied with delight. " There you are," said Bridget. " What right have you to give our hay to that pony ? " " 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 im- peded their path ; one of them was the redoubtable Xeil, the other Mike. " Is it to-morrow night you want the boat, Miss Biddy ? " said Xeil. THE INVITATION. 23 Bridget dropped her voice to a whisper. " 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." Neil cast a bashful and admiring glance at handsome Nora, as she stood very erect by Biddy's side. " All right, miss," he said. " At ten o'clock," said Bridget ; " have the boat in the cove then, and we'll be down there and ready." " But they say, miss, that the Banshee is out on the nights when the moon is at the full." " 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 abun- dantly visible. She was saying to herself : " I would give all -the world to speak to the Banshee alone — to ask her to get father out of his difficulty." She was half-ashamed of these thoughts, although she knew and almost gloried in the fact that she was super- stitious to her heart's core. She and Biddy soon entered the house by the back en- trance, 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 desti- tute of any curtain or even blind ; they stared blankly out across the lovely summer landscape as hideous as win- dows could be. 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. Biddy, who was quite accustomed to her room and / 24 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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. " Oh, you are not going to put that on," said Nora, whose own training had made her sensitive to incon- gruity in dress. " Yes, I am," said Biddy. " How can I see your lady- mother in this style of thing?" She went and stood in front of Nora with her arms akimbo. " Look," she said, " my frock has a rent from here to here, and this petticoat is none of the best, and my stock- ings — well, I know it is my own fault, but I won't darn them, and there is a great hole just above the heel. Now, this skirt will hide all blemishes." " But what will your mother say ? " " Bless her ! " said Biddy, " she won't even notice. Here, let's whip on the dress." She hastily divested herself of her ragged cotton skirt, and put on the pale blue with the dirty silk flounces. " What are you looking so grave for? " she said, glanc- ing up at Nora. " I declare you're too stately for any- thing, Nora O'Shanaghgan ! You stand there, and I know you criticise me." " No ; I love you too much," replied Nora. " You are Biddy Murphy, one of my greatest friends." " Ah, it's sweet to hear her," said Biddy. " But, all the same," continued Nora, " I don't like that dress, and it's terribly unsuitable. You don't look lady- like in it." " Ladylike, and I with the blood of " " Oh, don't begin that," said Nora ; " every time I see THE INVITATION. 25 you you mention that fact. I have not the slightest doubt that the old kings were ruffians, and dressed abominably." " 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. Nora burst into a merry laugh. " 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. 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 droll- ery in her face, and when she laughed, showing her milk- white teeth, there were people who even thought her at- tractive. Nora really loved her, although the two, stand- ing side by side, were, as far as appearances were con- cerned, as the poles asunder. " Now, come along," said Biddy. " I know T I look per- fectly charming. Oh, what a sweet, sweet blue it is, and these ducky little flounces ! It was Aunt Mary O'Flanna- gan 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." 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 26 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. was an enormous apartment, but bore the same traces of neglect and clirt 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. Standing on the hearth, with his elbow resting on the marble mantelpiece close to a unique vase of antique de- sign, 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. 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. 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. " Yes, madam,'' he was saying, " it's turnips we are go- THE INVITATION. 27 ing 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." " I hate the very name of that root," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan in her most drawling tones. " Why, then, ma'am, you don't say so," answered Mur- phy ; " it seems hard on the poor things that keep us all going. The potheen and the potatoes — what would Ire- land be without 'em? Glory be to goodness, it's quite awful to hear you abusing the potato, ma'am." " I am English, you know," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. 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 ac- tion smote upon Nora, who colored painfully. Biddy, taking her courage in her hand, went straight up to the august lady. " How do you do ? " she said. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan extended her hand with a limp action. " Oh, dear ! " panted Biddy. " 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 an- other, I can tell you, for six months." " 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." 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 28 LIGHT 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." " You must tell me how you were hurt, father, and where." " 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.'' " 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 ? " " Now, don't you be fishing." " But you were — wern't you ? " " 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? " " No, not they," said Nora. " And you ran away to see your old dad ? Why, then, you have the spirit of the old O'Shanaghgans in you." " Horses would not have kept me from you," said Nora. " 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 THE WILD IRISH. 239 that, Ellen ; and then she went out, and I heard her talk- ing 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 ! " Nora nestled up to her father, squeezing his hand now and then, and looking into his face. " 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 ? " " 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." " 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." " Oh, Nora, couldn't we get a bit of a place just like the old place, all to ourselves ? " " I'll think it over," said Nora ; " we'll manage some- how. We can't stand feather-beds for ever and ever, father." " Hark to her," said the Squire ; " you're a girl after my own heart, Light o' the Morning, and it's glad I 3m to see you, and to have you back again." CHAPTER XXIX. ALTERATIONS. While Nora and her father were talking together there came a sound of a ponderous gong through the house. " What's that?" said Nora, starting. " You may well ask ' What's that? ' " replied the Squire. " It's the dinner-gong. There's dinner now in the even- ing, 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 won- derful ; 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, Xorrie." " Not I. I am going to stay here," said Nora. " 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." So, unwillingly. Nora went. In the corridor outside she met her cousin Alollv. ALTERATIONS. 241 " Why, you haven't begun to dress yet," said Molly ; " and I'm going down to dinner." " 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 w r ith 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 ex- quisitely as well. 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. Nora stood and gazed at it, and her heart sank. " 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." So Nora washed her face and hands, and ran down- 242 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. stairs. 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. Molly, nicely dressed in her dinner-frock, was quite in keeping with the elder pair ; but wild Nora, still wear- ing 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 dis- approval. " 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 dis- appoints me in this way, life will really not be worth living." 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. 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. " 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 ac- cept too." She looked with kindness at Molly, who, if only Nora had been happy, would have thoroughly en- joyed herself. A L TERA TIONS. 243 " 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." " 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." 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. Xora could scarcely suppress her yawns of utter weariness. She be- gan to think of nothing but lying down, shutting her eyes, and going into a long and dreamless slumber. 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. " 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, Xora ? " " I thought father looked very bad indeed," said Xora. She could not add another word ; she went out into the hall. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan took her hand, squeezing it up in a tight pressure. " 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." " Oh, I know all that, mother ; I know all that," said Nora. She did not add, " But for me he would never 244 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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. " Well, dear," she said, " your Uncle George has taken a great fancy to you. Notwithstanding your eccentrici- ties, Xora — 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." 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 artis- tic 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. Xora 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. " It makes you happy, mummy," she said, " and " " But what do you think of it, my darling? " " It is a very beautiful room." " 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 terriblv angry." ALTERATIONS. 245 " No, you are not, mummy ; you are pleased to see me again." " 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." Nora did not say anything; but a stubborn look came into her face which her mother knew of old. 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. " 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 ? " Nora said " Yes " in a somewhat dreamy voice. They then went to her mother's morning-room, and then on to the Squire's smoking-room. " 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." 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. At last the terrible ordeal of going through the — to her, utterly ruined — house was over, and she and Molly found themselves alone. 246 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " 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 pos- sible." When they were back again in the big drawing room Nora gave Molly a wild look. " Come out," she said ; " at least out of doors the air is the same as of old." Molly caught up a shawl and wrapped it round her head; but Nora went out just as she was. " You'll catch cold," said English Molly. " 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." 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 back- ground. " 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." "Oh Nora, it is such a lovely, lovely place !" said Molly. " Cannot you be happy in it with its modern dress? " " 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 vou will." A L TERA TIONS. 247 " 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 Ele- phants, and all the rest. What do you want me to do, Nora?" " We must get him out of that room," said Nora. " Him ? You mean your father ? " " Yes ; he will never recover there. I have been think- ing 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." " But what is it ? " said Molly. " I'll tell you in the morning; you wait and see." CHAPTER XXX. THE LION IN HIS CAGE. The Squire was better, and not better. He had re- ceived 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. 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. " I didn't see the man," he said after a pause. " Some- body 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." And the neighbors and the ~ountry 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; 248 THE LION IN HIS CAGE. 249 and his own face looked more miserable than ever. Still, he came daily up to the big kitchen to inquire for the Squire. 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 ap- pearance, 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. " 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 suc- cumbing 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. " 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 sin- gle 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 im- mensely." " 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. " Well, my dear girl," he said, " what about coming back with me to England when I go next w r eek ? " 250 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " It is not to be thought of, Uncle George. How can I leave my father while he is ill ? " " 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." " I don't think so," said Nora. " What do you mean, my dear girl? " " You might do all that sort of thing for an eagle, you know," said Xora, 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. " My dear little Xora, I don't in the least see the re- semblance," 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." " Oh, forgive me, Uncle George," said Xora. " I don't really mean to say anything against you, for you are just splendid." Mr. Hartrick did not reply; he looked puzzled and thoughtful. Xora, after a moment's silence, spoke again. " 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." THE LION IN HIS CAGE. 251 " Which it does," muttered Mr. Hartrick under his breath. " 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." " 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." " 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." " Of course things will be different," said Mr. Hart- rick. " A new doctor is coming to see your father next week, and he will probably change the regime; 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 " " Except that he has everything wrong," said Nora. " Well, well, my dear child, I will think over your sug- gestion that Molly should stay with you ; and in the mean- time remember that we are all coming to O'Shanaghgan for Christmas." " All of you ! " said Nora in dismay. " 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." *5 2 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " You are so kind," she said. She clasped his hands in both of hers, and then turned away. " 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. 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. " Just come in here," he said to Nora. " Don't make much noise ; lock the door — will you, pet ? " Nora obeyed. " Now fling the window wide open ; let me get a breath of air." 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. " There, child, there," he said ; " it's the lungs begin- ning 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." " But you are worse, father ; you are worse." " 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 smoth- ering me." Mrs. O'Shanaghgan entered the room. " Patrick," she said, " would you like some sweetbread and a bit of pheasant for your dinner? " " Do you know what I'd like?" roared the Squire. " A great big mealy potato, with a pinch of salt." Mrs. O'Shanaghgan uttered a sigh, and the color rushed into her pale cheeks. THE LION IN HIS CAGE. 253 " Upon my word," she said, " you are downright vul- gar." The Squire gave a feeble guffaw. Nora's heart beat as she noticed how feeble it was. She left the room, be- cause 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. " Well," said Molly, " how is he? " " Very bad indeed," said Nora ; " there's not a moment to lose. Something must be done, and quickly." " What can be done? " " Come out with me ; I have a thought in my head." Nora and Molly went outside. They crossed the av- enue, 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. Nora gave a sigh of relief. " I dreamed of this barn last night," she said. " I think it is the very place." " For what, Nora ; for what ? " " I am going to have father moved here to-day." " Nora, what nonsense you are talking ! You will kill him." " Save his life, you mean," said Nora. " I am going to get a bedstead, a straw paillasse, and an old hard mat- tress, 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 win- dow so that he needn't have too much draught, the dar- ling ; and there shall be nothing else in the room except a 254 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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." " What a girl you are ! But how will you do it ? " " Leave it to me. Do you mind driving with me on the outside car as -far as Cronane? " " The outside car? I have never been on it yet." "Oh, come along; I'll introduce you to the sweetest conveyance in the world." Xora's spirits rose at the thought of immediate ac- tion. "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. " What can I do for you, miss? " he said. " I want Angus," answered Nora. " Where is he? " Angus was one of the few old Irish servants who were still left at Castle O'Shanaghgan. He now came for- ward in a sheepish kind of way; but when he saw Nora his face lit up. " Put one of the horses to the outside car at once — Black Bess if you can," said Nora. " Yes, miss," said the man, " with all the pleasure in life." " 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." 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. THE LION IN HIS CAGE. 255 " Nora, as sure as Jehoshaphat and Elephants, I'll be flung out on to the highroad ! " cried Molly. " Sit easy and nothing will happen," said Nora, who was seated comfortably herself at the other side and was driving with vigor. Presently they reached Cronane, which looked just as dilapidated as ever. "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." They dashed up the avenue and stopped before the hall door. 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. " Why, my bit of a girl, it's good to see you ! " he cried. " And who is this young lady ? " " This is my cousin, Molly Hartrick. Molly, may I in- troduce you to Squire Murphy ? " " Have a grip of the paw, miss," said Squire Murphy, holding out his great hand and clasping Molly's. " 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." " 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? " " To be sure. Dan, you spalpeen ! come forward this minute. Now then, hold Black Bess, and look alive, lad. Well, Nora, what is it?" 256 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. Molly stood on the gravel sweep. Nora and the Squire walked a few paces away. " It's this," said Nora ; " you haven't asked yet how father is." " 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." " Oh ! they would never mean that," said Nora, in dis- tress. "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." " 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 ? " " Why so, Nora? Upon my word, you're a very hand- some girl, Nora." " Oh, never mind about my looks now. My father is ill because — because of all the luxury and the riches." " 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? " " That's about it," said Nora. " He must be rescued." " I'll do what I can," said Squire Murphy. THE LION IN HIS CAGE. 257 " 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." 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. CHAPTER XXXI. RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVE. 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. Molly helped, also Biddy and Nora, in all the prepa- rations, and at last the three girls jumped upon the out- side 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. " 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." " 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." " We are that," cried Biddy; "we are just wishing you would keep your English manners to yourself." RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVE. 259 Molly flushed rather indignantly. " I did not know that I was doing anything," she said. " 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 her- self. I see that you have neat, straight features ; but you have not got a scrap of royal blood in you — now, have you? " " 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." 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. " 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 annoy- ance. " How do you do, Miss Murphy? " she said. " 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." " 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'Shanagh- gan in her dirty pink dress with the flounces. " But, Miss Murphy," she continued, " I am sorry that 260 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. I cannot ask you to stay. The Squire is too unwell to admit of our having friends at present." " 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 ! " Biddy's open admiration of the glories of O'Shan- aghgan 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 her- self to say pretty things which she did not feel. Molly, of course, had always lived in a beautiful and well-fur- nished 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 re- mark, therefore, was most fortunate. Even wild, un- kempt, untaught Irish Biddy was better than no one. " 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." " 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 RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVE. 261 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." 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. Hannah proved herself a most valuable ally. She whisked about, dashing here and there, raising a whirl- wind 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. " Ah, then," he said ; " it's this will do the masther good. Oh, then, Miss Nora, it's you that has the 'cute ways." 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. " You will bring them in — the potatoes, I mean — in their jackets," said the Irish girl, " and have them hot as hot can be." " 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." Accordingly, when the long cart arrived from Cronane, 262 LIGHT O' THE MORNING. accompanied by the Squire and his factotum, Mike, the barn was ready to receive the bedstead, the straw paillasse, and the mattress. Xora managed to convey, from the depths of the Castle, sheets, blankets, pillows, and a coun- terpane, and everything was in apple-pie order by the time the family was supposed to assemble for afternoon tea. This was the hour that Xora had selected for hav- ing 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 be- came 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 de- lighted to honor. 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 Xora and her mother that the former would not appear to afternoon tea. Xora had made her sick father her excuse. On the present occa- sion she took good care not even to show her face inside the house. But Molly kept watch, just behind the planta- tion, and soon rushed into the yard to say that the car- riages were beginning to appear. " 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." " Why, it must be the coach of the O'Rorkes," cried Xora. "Fancy Madam coming to see mother! Why, RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVE, 263 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/' 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. The old Squire was lying, half-dozing, in his luxurious bed. The fire had been recently built up. The room felt close. " 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." 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. " I am bad, Murphy — very bad," said the Squire ; " it's killing me they are amongst them." " 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 ? " 264 LIGHT 0* THE MORNING. "It's forbid I am," said the Squire. "Ah, Murphy! it's killing me, it's killing me." " 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 ? " "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." " Xot 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." The wonder-stricken Squire now had to listen to Nora's plan. "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." " 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 go- ing. 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." 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. CHAPTER XXXII. ANDY. 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. " 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." " 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 265 266 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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 man- age 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." The Squire had a great color in his face as he spoke; his eyes were shining as they had not shone since his ac- cident, and his voice was quite strong. Squire Murphy, who was standing near, clapped him on the shoulder. " Why, Patrick," he said, " it's proud of you I am ; you're like your old self again — blest if you're not." 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 ANDY. 267 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. 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 : " This will never do ; you must get back to your own comfortable room, my dear sir — that is, if I am to con- tinue to attend you." " 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." 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. The Squire, however, spoke sadly. " 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." " Have a dhrop of the crayther, your honor," said 268 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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." " Pour me out a little," said the Squire. He drank off the spirit, which was absolutely pure and unadulterated, and smacked his lips. " 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 deliv- erance." 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. " 'Twas himself that put them down," said Hannah. " Ah, but he is a grand man, is O'Shanaghgan." Mrs. O'Shanaghgan spent a very unhappy night. Xo comfort could she derive even from Air. Hartrick's words. Nora was an out-and-out rebel, and must be treated ac- cordingly ; and as to the Squire — well, when Nora at- tended his funeral her eyes might be opened. The good lady was quite certain that the Squire would have devel- oped 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 even' ordinary comfort, was so soothing to his soul that it began to have an equally good effect upon his body. 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 rncc again ANDY. 269 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 neigh- borhood, 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 rab- bits 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 de- scribed 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. The grand fact of all, however, was this: the Squire was getting well again. About a week after his removal to the barn Nora was out rather late by herself. She had been visiting her fa- vorite haunts by the seashore, and was returning laden with seaweeds and shells, when she was startled by hear- ing 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. "Yes. What is it?" she said. The next moment a long and skinny hand and arm were protruded, Nora's own arm was forcibly taken pos- session of, and she was dragged, against her will, into 27° LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. the underwood. Her first impulse was to cry out ; but be- ing 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. " Yes, Andy, I knew it was you," said Nora. " What do you want with me now ? How r dare you speak to me ? " " How dare I ! What do you mane by that, Miss Nora ? " " 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." " 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." '* You know why I said it," answered Nora. " There was a time when I pitied you, but not now. You have ANDY. 271 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." " 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." Nora was strong and fearless, but she had not Andy's brute strength. With a clutch, now so fierce and desper- ate that she wondered her arm was not broken, the man, who was half a madman, dragged her deeper into the shade of the underwood. " 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 ? " " I did my best for you," said Nora. " 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 272 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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." Having uttered these words, the miserable man dropped Xora's arm and vanished into the depths of the planta- tion. Xora stood still for a moment, then returned thoughtfully and slowly to the house. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. 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 fero- cious and half-savage temperament. Added to his natural fierceness of character, he now undoubtedly was pos- sessed by temporary insanity. This had been brought on by hunger, cold, and great misery. The man was desper- ate, and would think little of desperate deeds. After all, his life was of small value to him compared to his re- venge. 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. He would get accustomed to the grandeur of the re- stored 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 273 274 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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 de- clared that not all the Land Leagues in Ireland, not all the Fenians, not all the Whiteboys, were they banded to- gether in one great insurrection, should frighten him from his purpose. 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 THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. 275 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. But now the man himself had come to her and threat- ened fresh mischief. She hated to denounce the poor, starved creature to the police, and yet she must 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 276 LIGHT O' THE MORNING. 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 deter- mined 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. 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 return- ing to them. Xo doubt Andy's cabin would be now inac- cessible ; 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 Xora's entrance on the scene caused Mrs. O'Shan- aghgan to speak fretfully. " Late as usual, Xora," 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.' 5 THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. 277 " 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." " 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." " 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." Nora hesitated for a moment, the color flamed into her face, and her eyes grew very bright. " Tell her, Uncle George," she said, speaking slowly and with great emphasis, " that I did what I did for father. 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." " I will take her your message, my dear," said Mr. Hartrick, and then he stooped and kissed his niece. A moment later he was about to step into the carriage, when Nora rushed up to him. " 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 anx- ieties at present or I would say more. You have done splendidly, only " 278 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. "Only what, Nora?" said her uncle. " 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 did want the old bare rooms and the lack of fur- niture, 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." " 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 ex- pected from an Englishman ; and by-and-by you, at least, will thank me for having brought civilization to O'Shan- aghgan." A moment later Mr. Hartrick went away, and Nora re- turned to the house. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had left the room, and Nora found herself alone with her cousin Molly. "What is it, Nora?" said Molly. " You look quite pale and anxious." " I look what I feel," said Nora. " But can I help you in any way, Nora? " " Yes. Will vou come for a drive with me this morn- ing?" " Of course I will. You know well that I should like nothing better." " 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." " All right," replied Molly, running off on her errand. Nora did not stay long with her father that morning, THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. 279 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. " Forgive me," said Nora ; " I sometimes forget that you are not an Irish girl." " 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." " 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." 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. " Oh, dear ! " said Nora. " It makes me cry to look at the place. Once, long, long ago, when Tern- and I were tiny children, we came up here. Andy's wife was 280 LIGHT 0" THE MORNING. 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 home then, whereas now it is a desolation." " 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." " 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, only I had money." " 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." " But not Irish people who were born here," said Xora. " 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." "Who is John Finnigan?" asked Molly. " The man who docs these sort of things," said Xora, the red, angry blood rushing to her cheeks. She turned and quickly walked down the mountain. Molly racing and stumbling after her. Black Bess was THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. 281 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 savoir-faire of her countrywomen. " Aw, then, Miss Nora," she said, " I am glad to see you. And how's the Squire?" " Much better, thank you," said Nora. " Is your hus- band in, Mrs. Finnigan ? " " To be sure, deary. Finnigan's abed still. He was out late last night. Why, listen ; you can hear him snor- ing; the partition is thin. He snores loud enough to be heard all over the house." " Well, do wake him, please, Mrs. Finnigan," said Nora. " I want to see him on a most important matter at once." " Then, that being the case, honey, you just step into the parlor while I go and get Finnigan to rise and dress himself." 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-peel- ings, and bacon-rinds. The children w r ere 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. 282 LIGHT O y THE MORNING. " Well, now," said that worthy, " and what can I do for you, Miss O'Shanaghgan ? " Xora looked very earnest and pleading. " 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." " 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." " Well," said Nora restlessly, " I know nothing about the matter. I am sorry ; but I am afraid I am powerless to interfere."" " 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." " I will speak to father by-and-by," said Nora; "but I doubt if I can do anything. But I have come today to ask you to do something for me." " And what is that, Miss Nora? I am sure I'd be proud to help such a beautiful young lady in any way." " I dislike compliments," said Nora, coloring with an- noyance. " Please listen. You know the man you evicted from the cabin on the side of Slieve Nagorna — Andy Neil ? " " Perfectly well, perfectly well," answered Finnigan. THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. 283 " You had my father's orders ? " "I had that, Miss Nora." " 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." " 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." " But he has no money to pay his rent." " Then he must stay out, Miss Nora." " 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." " What ! " said Finnigan, going up to her and staring into her face ; " has that scoundrel threatened ? Is it pos- sible?" " No, no, no; you are mistaken," said Nora eagerly. " I only meant that I — I — pitied him so much." " 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 no cir- cumstances, except the payment of the rent, can Andy Neil g§t back his cabin." CHAPTER XXXIV. A DARING DEED. 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. " 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." " 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." 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. " 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." " I think Nora is very busy to-day," answered Molly. " May I read the paper to you, Squire ? " 2 8 4 A DARING DEED. 285 " 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 try- ing 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? " " I cannot tell you," answered Molly, coloring slightly as she spoke. The Squire looked annoyed and suspicious. " You go and call her to me," he said. " Tell her to come along this blessed minute ; say it's wanting her I am." 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! " " Nora," said Molly, " will you go to your father? He wants you immediately." " Have you let out anything? " said Nora, turning and looking anxiously at Molly. " No ; but he asked after you, and I said you were busy. The Squire said then, ' I hope she is not poking her lit- tle finger into other people's pies.' " " Well, I will go to him," said Nora. " I'll manage him. You stay where you are, Molly." 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 286 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. her lips than she had ever perhaps worn before as she now entered the Squire's room. " Well, father? " she said. 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. " Kneel down by me, colleen," he said. 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. " You're after something, mavoureen," he said. " What's up, little girl ? iWhat's fretting that tender heart of yours ? " " Something, father," said Nora then. " And you won't tell your old dad? " " I would rather not. Won't you trust me ? " "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." " Then do trust me, father, and don't ask me any ques- tions. I'll tell you by and by — yes, I faithfully prom- ise, 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 ? " " 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 A DARING DEED. 287 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. ,, Nora kissed her father very gravely; she then went out of the barn, and returned to where Angus and Han- nah, and also Molly, were waiting for her. " 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." " 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." " To be sure," said Hannah. " You lave it to me, me beautiful young lady." 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 pro- visions, etc., all placed in the bottom. " Jump in, Molly," said Nora. 288 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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'Shan- aghgan a couple of miles, they were met by John Finni- gan driving on his outside car. "Why, then, Miss Nora, what are you doing now?" he said. " Having a drive for my own pleasure," replied Nora, nodding gayly. 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 him- self, being very sure-footed and quite willing to be turned into a beast of burden for the nonce. The heavy tarpau- lin, therefore, was fastened on his back, and, with Angus leading and Hannah following with the basket of pro- visions, and the two girls making up the rear, the little cavalcade started forward. Oh, how hot it seemed, and A DARING DEED. 289 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 remain- der 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 deso- late 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. At the appointed hour that evening Nora went down to the shore. She fully expected to find Andy Neil wait- ing 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. 290 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. " Andy — Andy Neil," called the girl, but no Andy re- sponded. 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 re- verse 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 in- sane 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 Xora? 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 for- give him, seeing that he was so desperate and life had been so hard. Yes, Nora felt that God was very merci- ful — far more merciful than man. But to-night — how was to-night to be got through? She hac 1 now reached the yard, and found herself face to face with Angus. A DARING DEED. 29 1 " Is there nothing I can do for you, miss?" said the young man, touching his hat respectfully to the girl. " If you could be near somewhere, Angus, and if it were necessary, and we wanted the long cart to-night, could we get it ? " " 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 mo- ment'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." " Then that's all right," answered Nora. She went into the barn. The Squire had now con- trived 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 ex- pressed it, when Nora appeared. " Good-night, father," she said. She went up to him, and bent down over him, to give him her accustomed kiss. " 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?" " That they are, father," replied the girl ; " but I am a 29 2 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. little tired ; and if Angus is coming to help you, and you do not want anything more from me, I will go to bed my- self." " Do that," said the Squire. " Your voice sounds peaky ; you have been doing too much." Xora lingered another moment or two. How thank- ful 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 good- night, and parted with her with one of his usual jokes. Nora then went into the house. The hour for late din- ner 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 wo- man, stared when she saw the young lady of the Castle appear in the great kitchen. "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 her- self by coming so freely into the servants' premises? " I want to know, Mrs. Shaw," said Nora, " if you will oblige me? " " Of course I will, Miss O'Shanaghgan ; if I can." " 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 ? " " Well, there is a fresh pigeon pie in the larder," an- swered the cook; " but why should you want it? " " Oh ! please, Mrs. Shaw," answered Nora, " will you give it to me without asking questions? I will love you for all the rest of mv life if vou will." A DARING DEED. 293 " Love me, is it ? " thought the cook. " A pretty crea- ture like that love me ! " " 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." " 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 light- est of kisses on the astonished Mrs. Shaw's forehead. 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." CHAPTER XXXV. THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. Nora avoided Molly that night. On reflection, it oc- curred to her that it would be best for Molly to know nothing of her design. If she were in complete igno- rance, no amount of questioning could elicit the truth. Xora 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 Airs. 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 endear- ing 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 regime that sward was hard, and knotty tufts of weed as well as grass grew THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. 295 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. Nora hated to feel such softness ; she disliked every- thing 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 re- ceived 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. " 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." 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 net now enter the yard, in all probability he was already 296 LIGHT a THE MORNING. 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, yet, been removed from the tower. It struck solemnly now the hour of midnight " 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." Nora thought these thoughts ; but then the feeling that Someone 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 turn- ing once or twice in the creaky old wooden bed. She was glad to feel that, unknown to him, she was his guar- dian 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 THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. 297 of heavy sound could not possibly see her. She waited, her breath coming hard and fast. For a minute, or per- haps 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 gloriouslv, 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. 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 win- dow 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 him- self 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 suf- fering. " Andy," said Nora in a low, very low whisper. But this low tone was as startling: to the madman on 298 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. the window as though a pistol shot had been sounded in his ears. " 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. Xora 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. " Before you do anything more, eat," she said ; " eat quickly ; make no noise." 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. " You have not had enough yet," she said. " You have fasted long, and are very hungry ; there is more where this came from." She took his hand quite unresistingly, and led him round to the entrance of the barn. " I am up," she said, " but no one else. No one else knows of this. You have come without a gun? " " I have a knife instead," he said. His eye glittered strangely. THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. 299 " Give me your knife," said the girl. " I will give you food in exchange for it." The famished creature began to gibber now in the most horrible manner; he pointed to his breast and uttered a laugh. " 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." The man looked at the food, and now his eyes softened. They became full not only of rapture, but also of laugh- ter. He gave a low guttural sound, sank down on the ground, and held out both his hands imploringly for some of the nourishment. " The knife," said Nora. 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. " It's wake I am, it's wake I am — it's wake I am en- toirely," 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." " I knew that," said Nora, " and I thought I would prevent you. Why did you not meet me this evening down by the shore ? " The miserable creature now raised his hand and 30° LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. pushed back a gray lock of unkempt hair from his fore- head. " Why, then," he said, " it was bothered I was en- toirely. 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 any- thing except to keep me word and have me victory." " Well, you have had it." said Nora. " What do you mane now, missie ? " " You have conquered yourself ; that is the best vic- tory 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 will see that you are not interfered with." " The old cot in which I was born," said Neil very slowly. " The old cot, and I'll see it again. Is it a-jok- ing me you are, Miss Nora ? " " Would I joke with you just now, Andy? Would I ? " " 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 father I wanted to kill — t'ould Squire? There, I have said it! " " 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 ni^ht. When THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. 30 1 he is stronger I will plead with him. Come, Andy, come; your home is ready for you. Go back to it." The man tottered to his feet, and began to stagger across the barn. " Stay ! you are not strong enough," said the girl. "Come outside the yard, here; come with me." She walked across the yard, reached the little postern gate, and opened it. " 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." " Angus ! ay, he is a true Irish boy. Aw, I'd trust him." " You well may ; he is a broth of a boy," said Nora. " Sit there. I will soon be back with you." 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 Xora 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. "Is it me you're wanting, Miss Nora?" " 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." 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. 302 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. "Why, Nora, you have lain undressed all night! What — what has happened ? " " Do not ask me," said Nora. " Do not ask me. I have done what I wanted to do, and I am thankful." "And you won't really tell me?" " No, I won't. I cannot ever. There is more to at- tend to, Molly ; you and I have got to go to Slieve Na- gorna immediately after breakfast." Molly did not ask anything further. " I brought your hot water," she said. " You do not want any of the grand English servants to see you look like this.'* " What a dear old thing you are ! " said Nora. " I am so grateful to you." 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. Airs. O'Shanaghgan was a little more fretful than ever, and told Nora that her conduct was making her mother quite ridiculous in the neighbor- hood. " I met those remarkably nice people, the Setons of Seton Court, yesterday," said Airs. O'Shanaghgan — " charming English people — and they asked me if it was really true that my husband, the owner of Castle O'Shan- aghgan, was sleeping in a barn." "And what did you answer, mother?" asked Nora, her dark-blue eyes bright with sudden fun. " 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 ad- mission. If this sort of thing goes on I shall ask your uncle to let the place, and allow us all to live in Eng- land." THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. 303 " 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." " Tired ! " said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, alarmed and sur- prised 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?" " Never mind, mother," said Nora. " Only do be thankful, do thank God for His mercies ; and oh, mother, do give me that kiss ! " " There, child ! of course you shall have it." Mrs. O' Shanaghgan pressed her lips lightly to Nora's cheek. " 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 ridicu- lous way you are doing." Nora did not say any more. She sat down to the breakfast table. Was her mother right? Was she in- deed exciting herself over every hand's turn, and was that thing which had happened last night — which, now 304 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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 ! 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. " 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.'' " But how has he got back again? You will remember you never told me what happened last night." " 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." "And you were frightened? You look, Nora, as if you had gone through a great deal.'' " I went through more than anyone will ever know," said Nora: "but I am very thankful." The girls had now reached the old cabin. The tarpau- lin was over the roof, but there was no smoke issuing from the hole. " 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? " " I'll co in with you," said Molly stoutly. " If you are not afraid, neither will I be." THE COT WHERE HE WAS BORN. 305 " I afraid now ? " said Nora, with a smile. " Come, Molly, I hope the poor creature is not very ill." Both girls entered the cabin. The tarpaulin had been so contrived that a piece hung over, and formed a tempo- rary 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. CHAPTER XXXVI. " i'm a happy man ! " 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 tilings, for Light o' the Morning, as he called his beloved Xora, 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 re- quest 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. " Rugs indeed ! " said the Squire, snorting almost like a wild beast when his wife ventured to suggest a few of n VM A HAPPY MAN!" 307 these comforts. " It is tripping me up you'd be? Rugs indeed ! I know better." But compared to its condition when the Squire first oc- cupied it, the barn was now a fairly comfortable bed- room, and Squire Murphy, Squire Fitzgerald, Squire Ter- ence 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, laugh- ing at the best jokes, and adding sundry witticisms on their own account. It was now, however, Christmas Eve, and Mrs. O'Shan- aghgan'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'Shan- aghgans to have money of their own in the future, rather than to depend on him to keep up the old place. In- wardly the Squire was fretting and fuming a good bit at Mr. Hartrick really owning Castle O'Shanaghgan. " I must say, after all's said and done, the man is a gen- tleman," he remarked to his daughter ; " but it frets me sore, Nora, that I should hold the place under him." " It's better, surely, than not having it at all," answered Nora. " 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 308 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. dreadful bedroom before you came, mavourneen, I almost wished that I had sold the place out and out." " 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." " If I thought that, there'd not be another grumble out of me," said the Squire. " I declare to you, Nora, Tel 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." " 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 even* 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." " 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 can- not say more. Did you tell me the things were sent to every cabin, Nora — all over the place, alannah?" " Every cabin, father," answered his daughter. " Then, that being the case, I'll truss myself up to- night. I will truly. Mortal man couldn't do more." 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 11 I'M A HAPPY MAN!" 3°9 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 ex- citedly 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. Notwithstand- ing 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 com- ing round Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. She did this by her simple and undisguised admiration. " 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. " Why, then, it's proud me ancestors, the old Irish kings, would be of me - now," she was even heard to say. 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 310 LIGHT y THE MORNING. girl could possibly conjecture; but they both felt that it was the final crown of their happiness. " Can I ever forget," said Nora, " that but for Stephan- otie 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? " But the sound of wheels was at last heard without. " Come, girleens, and let's give them a proper Irish wel- come/' said the Squire, standing on the steps of the old house. Nora ran to him, and he put his arm round her waist. " Now then, Nora, as the carriage comes up, you help me with the big Irish cheer. Hip, hip, hurrah ! and Caed Mille a Faitha. Now then, let every one who has got a drop of Irish blood in him or her raise the old cheer." Poor gentle English Mrs. Hartrick turned quite pale when she heard these sounds ; but Air. Hartrick was al- ready 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. " 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'Shan- aghgan, for I guess that you are the man to enjoy it." " 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." " Oh, come along in, Stephanotie, do," said Molly. " I see that you are just as eccentric and as great a darling as ever." " I guess I'm not likely to change," answered Stephan- otie. " I was born with a love of bon-bons, and I'll keep it to the end of the chapter." "IMA HAPPY MAN!" 311 But now Mrs. Hartrick and Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had met. The two English ladies immediately began to un- derstand 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. 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. " I would not have known the old place," he said, turn- ing to Nora. Nora gave a quick sigh. " Where is my mother? " said the lad then. " She has gone upstairs with Aunt Grace ; but run after her, Terry, do," said his sister. 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. " Why, then," said the Squire, " it's cramped and both- ered 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." " 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." " Ah ! it's she has done it," said the Squire, drawing Nora forward and pressing her close to his heart. " She's 312 LIGHT 0' THE MORNING. 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." THE END. Three Strong Stories for Boys Ralph of the Roundhouse; Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man By Allen Chapman Railroad stories are always dear to the heart of the American ^oy, and here we have one which is clean and clever from start to finish. Ralph is bound to become a railroad man, and starts in at the very foot of the ladder. He makes both friends and enemies, but " wins out " in the best meaning of that term. Cloth. i2mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 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