Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl Part 19

This gracious English lady was very charming, and she felt at once that she would love her.

"The child is tired, Grace," said her husband to Mrs. Hartrick. "Where are the girls? Why are they not present?"

"Molly has been very troublesome, and I was obliged to send her to her room," was her reply; "but here is Terence. Terence, your sister has come."

"Oh, Terry!" cried Nora.

The next moment Terence, in full evening dress, and looking extremely manly and handsome, appeared upon the scene. Nora forgot everything else when she saw the familiar face; she ran up to her brother, flung her arms round his neck, and kissed him over and over.

"Oh, it is a sight for sore eyes to see you!" she cried. "Oh, Terry, how glad, how glad I am that you are here!"

"Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ Nonsense, Nora. Try to remember this is an English house,"

whispered Terence; but he kissed her affectionately. He was glad to see her, and he looked at her dress with marked approval. "She will soon tame down, and she looks very pretty," was his thought.

Just then Linda was seen coming downstairs.

"Has Nora come?" called out her sweet, high-bred voice. "How do you do, Nora? I am so glad to see you. If you are half as nice as Terence, you will be a delightful addition to our party."

"Oh, but I am not the least bit like Terence," said Nora. She felt rather hurt; she did not know why.

Linda was a very fair girl. She could not have been more than fifteen years of age, and was not so tall as Nora; but she had almost the manners of a woman of the world, and Nora felt unaccountably shy of her.

"Now take your cousin up to her room. Supper will be ready in a quarter of an hour," said Mrs. Hartrick. "Come, George; I have something to say to you."

Mr. and Mrs. Hartrick disappeared into the drawing-room. Linda took Nora's hand. Nora glanced at Terence, who turned on his heel and went away.

"See you presently, sis," he called out in what he considered a very manly tone; and Nora felt her heart, as she expressed it, sink down into her boots as she followed Linda up the richly carpeted stairs. Her feet sank into the velvety pile, and she hated the sensation.

"It is all a sort of feather-bed house," she said to herself, "and I hate a feather-bed house. Oh, I can understand my dad better than ever to-night; but how mother would enjoy this!"

CHAPTER XIII.

"THERE'S MOLLY."

As they were going upstairs Linda suddenly turned and looked full at her cousin.

"How very grave you are! And why have you that little frown between your brows? Are you vexed about anything?"

"Only I thought Terry would be more glad to see me," replied Nora.

"More glad!" cried Linda. "I saw you hugging him as I ran downstairs.

He let you. I don't know how any one could show gladness more. But come along; this is your room. It is next to Molly's and mine. Isn't it pretty? Molly and I chose it for you this morning, and we arranged those flowers. You will have such a lovely view, and that little peep of the Thames is so charming. I hope you will like your room."

Nora entered one of the prettiest and most lovely bedrooms she had ever seen in her life. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined anything so cozy. The perfectly chosen furniture, the elegant appointments of every sort and description, the view from the partly opened windows, the view of winding river and n.o.ble trees--all looked rich and cultivated and lovely; and the Irish girl, as she gazed around, found suddenly a great, fierce hatred rising up in her heart against what she called the mere prettiness. She turned and faced Linda, who was watching her with curiosity in her somewhat small blue eyes Linda was essentially English, very reserved and quiet, very self-possessed, quite a young lady of the world. She looked at Nora as if she meant to read her through.

"Well, don't you think the view perfect?" she said.

"Have you ever been in Ireland?" was Nora's answer.

"Never. Oh, dear me! have you anything as pretty as this in Ireland?"

"No," said Nora fiercely--"no." She left the window, turned back, and began to unpin her hat.

"You look as if you did not care for your room."

"It is a very, very pretty room," said Nora, "and the view is very, very pretty, but I am tired to-night. I did not know it; but I am. I should like to go to bed soon."

"So you shall, of course, after you have had supper. Oh, how awfully thoughtless of me not to know that you must be very tried and hungry!

Molly and I are glad you have come."

"But where is Molly? I should like to see her."

Linda went up to Nora and spoke in a low whisper.

"She is in disgrace."

"In disgrace? Has she done anything naughty?"

"Yes, fearfully naughty. She is in hot water as usual."

"I am sorry," said Nora. She instantly began to feel a strong sensation of sympathy for Molly. She was sure, in advance, that she would like her.

"But is she in such dreadful disgrace that I may not see her?" she asked after a pause.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose so."

Just then there was heard at the room door a gay laugh and a kind of scamper. A knock followed, but before Nora could answer the door was burst open, and a large, heavily made, untidy-looking girl, with a dark face and great big black eyes, bounded into the apartment.

"I have burst the bonds, and here I am," she said. "How do you do, Nora?

I'm Molly. I am always and always in hot water. I like being in hot water. Now, tell-tale-t.i.t, you can go downstairs and acquaint mother with the fact that I have burst the bonds, for kiss little Irish Nora I will."

"Oh, I am glad to see you," said Nora. Her depression vanished on the spot. She felt that, naughty as doubtless Molly was, she could get on with her.

"Come, let's take a squint at you," said the eldest Miss Hartrick; "come over here to the light."

Molly took Nora by both hands over to the window.

"Now then, let's have a category of your charms. Terence has been telling us that you are very pretty. You are. Come, Linda; come and look at her. Did you ever see such black hair? And it's as soft as silk."

Molly put up a rather large hand and patted Nora somewhat violently on the head.

"Oh, don't!" said Nora, starting back.

"My dear little cousin, I am a very rough specimen, and you must put up with me if you mean to get on at The Laurels. We are all stiff and staid here; we are English of the English. Everything is done by rule of thumb--breakfast to the minute, lunch to the minute, afternoon tea to the minute, dinner to the minute, even tennis to the minute. Oh! it's detestable; and I--I am expected to be good, and you know there's not a bit of goodness in me. I am all fidgets, and you can never be sure of me for two seconds at a time. I am a worry to mother and a worry to father; and as to Terence--oh, my dear creature, I am so truly thankful you are not like Terence! Here I drop a courtesy to his memory. What an awfully precise man he will make by and by! I did not know you turned out that kind of article in Ireland."