Light O The Morning | Page 6

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 suppressed anguish, and
then sat perfectly still, her lips set, her hands tightly locked together.
She endured these drives almost daily, but had never yet got
accustomed to them. Nora, on the contrary, as they spun through the air,
felt her spirits rising; the hot young blood coursed through her veins,
and her eyes blazed with fun and happiness. She looked back at her
father, who nodded to her briefly.
"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 tonight."
"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 grumbles beginning. No
grumbles when we are having our ride--eh, Ellen? I want you to come
back with a hearty appetite for dinner, and a hearty inclination to sleep
tonight."
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.
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 meadows 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 enormous dimensions. These were
called parliament windows, and had been put into many houses of that
period in order to avoid the window-tax. Most of the windows were
open, and out of some of them ragged towels were drying in the
evening breeze. About half a dozen dogs, most of which were of
mongrel breed, rushed forward at the sound of the wheels, barking
vociferously. Nora, with a dexterous touch of her hand, drew the mare
up just in front of the mansion, and then sprang lightly to her feet.'
"Now, mother, shall I help you down?"
"You had better find out first if Mrs. Murphy is in," said the Squire's
wife.
A ragged urchin, such as seemed to abound like mushrooms in the
place, came and held the reins close to the horse's mouth. The creature
stood trembling from the violence of her exertions, and pouring down
moisture at every pore. "She wants to be well rubbed down," said the
Squire. "She doesn't get half exercise enough; this will never do. What
if I have to make money on her, and she is spoiled?"
The low words which came to his lips were not heard by anyone; there
was a frown, very like Nora's own, between his brows. The next
moment a small man, with reddish hair, in a very shabby suit of

half-worn tweed,