Light O The Morning | Page 2

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 Spanish as well as Celtic
blood in many of its women; and Nora's quantities of thick, soft,
intensely black hair must have come to her from a Spanish ancestor. So
also did the delicately marked black brows and the black lashes to her
dark and very lovely blue eyes; but the clear complexion, the cheeks
with the tenderest bloom on them, the softly dimpled lips red as coral,
and the little teeth white as pearls were true Irish characteristics.
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 somewhat
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 forehead, and her eyes became dim with tears.
"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 foreclose, 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 Englishman across the water who
would not give all he possesses 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 really like."
"I don't want to realize any home different from this," said the girl, a
cloud shading her bright eyes for the moment.
"You are silly and prejudiced," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. "It is a great
trial to me to have a daughter so unsympathetic."
"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 forehead, and the peevish
lines went out of her face. She began to talk with animation and
excitement. Nora knew exactly what she was going to say. She had
heard the story so often; but, although she had heard it