Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (best chinese ebook reader .TXT) 📕

have got a little bit of the English in me after all—I know it will not be paid, that no one will lend it to him, not any of his old friends and cronies; and he will have to go, and it will break his heart, unless, unless you help him. I thought of you; I guessed you must be rich. I see now that you are very rich. Oh, how rich!—rich enough for carriages, and thick carpets, and easy-chairs, and tables, and grand dresses, and—and all those sort of things; and you will help—won't you? Please, do! please, do! You'll be so glad some day that you helped the old king, and saved him from dying of a broken heart. Please, help him, Uncle George.”

“My dear little girl!” said Mr. Hartrick. He was really affected by Nora's speech; it was wild; it was unconventional; there was a great deal of false sentiment about it; but the child herself was true, and her eyes were beautiful, and she looked graceful, and young, and full of passion, almost primeval passion, as she stood there before him. Then she believed in him. If she did not believe in anyone else in the house, she believed in him. She thought that if she asked him he would help.

“Now, tell me,” he said after a pause, “does your mother know what you have come here for?”

“Mother? Certainly not; I told you in my letter that you must not breathe a word of it to mother; and father does not know. No one knows but I—Nora, I myself.”

“This has been completely your own idea?”

“Completely.”

“You are a brave girl.”

“Oh, I don't know about being brave. I had to do something. If you belonged to Patrick O'Shanaghgan you would do something for him too. Have you ever seen him, Uncle George?”

“Yes, at the time of my sister's wedding, but not since.”

“And then?”

“He was as handsome a fellow as I ever laid eyes on, and Irish through and through.”

“Of course. What else would he be?”

“I have not seen him since. My sister, poor Ellen, she was a beautiful girl when she was young, Nora.”

“She is stately, like a queen,” said Nora. “We all admire her very, very much.”

“And love her, my dear?”

“Oh yes, of course I love mother.”

“But not as well as your father?”

“You could not, Uncle George, if you knew father.”

“Well, I shall not ask any more. You really do want me to help?”

“If you can; if it will not cost you too much money.”

“And you mean that your father is absolutely, downright poor?”

“Oh, I suppose so. I don't think that matters a bit. We wouldn't like to be rich, neither father nor I; but we do want to keep O'Shanaghgan.”

“Even without carpets and chairs and tables?” said Mr. Hartrick.

“We don't care about carpets and chairs and tables,” said Nora. “We want to keep O'Shanaghgan, the place where father was born and I was born.”

“Well, look here, Nora. I can make you no promises just now; but I respect you, my dear, and I will certainly do something—what I cannot possibly tell you, for I must look into this matter for myself. But I will do this: I will go to O'Shanaghgan this week and see my sister, and find out from the Squire what really is wrong.”

“You will?” said Nora. She thought quickly. Her father would hate it; but, after all, it was the only chance. Even she had sufficient common sense to know that Mr. Hartrick could not help unless he went to the old place.

“Oh, you will do it when you see it,” she said, with sudden rapture. “And you'll take me home with you?”

“Well, I think not, Nora. Now that you are here you must stay. I am fond of you, my little girl, although I know very little about you; but I do think that you have very mistaken ideas. I want you to love your English cousins for your mother's sake, and to love their home for your mother's sake also; and I should like you to have a few lessons, and to take some hints from your Aunt Grace, for you are wild, and need training. If I go to O'Shanaghgan for you, will you stay at The Laurels for me?”

“I will do anything, anything for you, if you save father,” said Nora. She fell on her knees before her uncle could prevent her, took his hand, and kissed it.

“Then it is a compact,” said Mr. Hartrick; “but remember I only promise to go. I cannot make any promises to help your father until I have seen him.”