Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl, L. T. Meade [drm ebook reader txt] 📗
- Author: L. T. Meade
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“I am thinking of going up to Dublin next week to see one or two old friends of mine; they are sure to help me at a pinch like this. They would never see Patrick O'Shanaghgan deprived of his acres. They know me too well; they know it would break my heart. I was thinking of going up next week.”
“But why next week, father? You have only three months. Why do you put it off to next week?”
“Why, then, you're right, colleen; but it's a job I don't fancy.”
“But you have got to do it, and you ought to do it at once.”
“To be sure—to be sure.”
“Take me with you, father; let us go tomorrow.”
“But I have not got money for us both. I must go alone; and then your mother must not be left. There's Terence gallivanting off to England to visit his fine relations, and that will take a good bit. I had to give him ten pounds this morning, and there are only forty now left in the bank. Oh, plenty to tide us for a bit. We shan't want to eat much; and there's a good supply of fruit and vegetables on the land; and the poor folk will wait for their wages. Of course there will be more rents coming in, and we'll scrape along somehow. Don't you fret, colleen. I declare it's light as a feather my heart is since I told you the truth. You are a comfort to me, Norrie.”
“Father,” said Nora suddenly, “there's one thing I want to say.”
“What is that, pet?”
“You know Andy Neil?”
“What! Andrew Neil—that scoundrel?” The Squire's brow grew very black. “Yes, yes. What about him? You have not seen him, have you?”
“Yes, father, I have.”
“Over at Murphy's? He knew he dare not show his face here. Well, what about him, Nora?”
“This,” said Nora, trembling very much; “he—he does not want you to evict him.”
“He'll pay his rent, or he'll go,” thundered the Squire. “No more of this at present. I can't be worried.”
“But, oh, father! he—he can't pay it any more than you can pay the mortgage. Don't be cruel to him if you want to be dealt with mercifully yourself; it would be such bad luck.”
“Good gracious, Nora, are you demented? The man pays his rent, or he goes. Not another word.”
“Father, dear father!”
“Not another word. Go in and see your mother, or she'll be wondering what has happened to you. Yes, I'll go off to Dublin to-morrow. If Neil doesn't pay up his rent in a week, off he goes; it's men like Andrew Neil who are the scum of the earth. He has put my back up; and pay his rent he will, or out he goes.”
CHAPTER IX. — EDUCATION AND OTHER THINGS.
The next day the Squire and Terence went off together. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan was very angry with her husband for going, as she expressed it, to amuse himself in Dublin. Dirty Dublin she was fond of calling the capital of Ireland.
“What do you want to go to Dirty Dublin for?” she said. “You'll spend a lot of money, and God knows we have little enough at the present moment.”
“Oh, no, I won't, Ellen,” he replied. “I'll be as careful as careful can be; the colleen can witness to that. There's a little inn on the banks of the Liffey where I'll put up; it is called the 'Green Dragon,' and it's a cozy, snug little place, where you can have your potheen and nobody be any the wiser.”
“I declare, Patrick,” said his lady, facing him, “you are becoming downright vulgar. I wish you wouldn't talk in that way. If you have no respect for yourself and your ancient family, you ought to remember your daughter.”
“I'm sure I'm not doing the colleen any harm,” said the Squire.
“That you never could, father,” replied Nora, with a burst of enthusiasm.
Mrs. O'Shanaghgan surveyed her coldly.
“Go upstairs and help Terence to pack his things,” she said; and Nora left the room.
The next day the travelers departed. As soon as they were gone Mrs. O'Shanaghgan sent for Nora to come and sit in the room with her.
“I have been thinking during the night how terribly neglected you are,” she said; “you are not getting the education which a girl in your position ought to receive. You learn nothing now.”
“Oh, mother, my education is supposed to be finished,” answered Nora.
“Finished indeed!” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan.
“Since Miss Freeman left I have had no governess; but I read a good bit alone. I am very fond of reading,” answered Nora.
“Distasteful as it all is to me,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, “I must take you in hand myself. But I do wish your Uncle George would invite you over to stay with them at The Laurels. It will do Terence a wonderful lot of good; but you want it more, you are so unkempt and undignified. You would be a fairly nice-looking girl if any justice was done to you; but really the other day, when I saw you with that terrible young person Bridget Murphy, it gave my heart quite a pang. You scarcely looked a lady, you were laughing in such a vulgar way, and quite forgetting your deportment. Now, what I have been thinking is that we might spend some hours together daily, and I would mark out a course of instruction for you.”
“Oh, mammy,” answered Nora, “I should be very glad indeed to learn; you know I always hated having my education stopped, but father said—”
“I don't want to hear what your father said,” interrupted Mrs. O'Shanaghgan.
“Oh, but, mother dear, I really must think of father, and I must respect what he says. He told me that my grandmother stopped her schooling at fourteen, and he said she was the grandest lady, and the finest and bonniest, in the country, and that no one could ever put her to shame; for, although she had not much learning to boast of, she had a smart answer for every single thing that was said to her. He said you never could catch her tripping in her words, never—never; and he thinks, mother,” continued Nora, sparkling and blushing, “that I am a little like my grandmother. There is her miniature upstairs. I should like to be like her. Father did love her so very, very much.”
“Of course, Nora, if those are your tastes, I have nothing further to say,” answered Mrs. O'Shanaghgan; “but while you are under my
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