Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl, L. T. Meade [drm ebook reader txt] 📗

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 expected from an Englishman; and by-and-by you, at least, will thank me for having brought civilization to O'Shanaghgan.”

A moment later Mr. Hartrick went away, and Nora returned to the house. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan had left the room, and Nora found herself alone with her cousin Molly.

“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 you come for a drive with me this morning?”

“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, 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 Terry and I were tiny children, we came up here. Andy's wife was alive then, and she gave us a hot potato each and a pinch of salt. We ate the potatoes just here, and how good they tasted! Little Mike was a baby, such a pretty little boy, and dear Kathleen was so proud of him. Oh! it was a 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 Nora. “There! I have seen what I wanted to see, and we had best be going back. I want to drive to the village, and I want to see John Finnigan. I hope I shall find him at home.”

“Who is John Finnigan?” asked Molly.

“The man who does these sort of things,” said Nora, 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 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 husband in, Mrs. Finnigan?”

“To be sure, deary. Finnigan's abed still. He was out late last night. Why, listen; you can hear him snoring; the partition is thin. He snores loud enough to be heard all over the house.”

“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-peelings, and bacon-rinds. The children were untidy, like their mother, but had the bright, very dark-blue eyes and curly hair of their country. Nora knew them all, and was soon in the midst of a clamorous group, while Mrs. Finnigan went out to get her husband to rise. Finnigan himself appeared in about a quarter of an hour, and Nora went with him into his little study.

“Well, now,” said that worthy, “and what can I do for you, Miss O'Shanaghgan?”

Nora 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.”