Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (best ereader for pdf .TXT) 📗

“Finished!” said Mrs. Hartrick. She paused for a moment and stared full at Nora. “I was astonished,” she continued, “when your uncle suggested that you should pay us a visit now. I said, as September had begun, you would be going back to school; but you accepted the invitation, or rather your mother did for you, without any allusion to your school. You must have got on very well, Nora, to be finished by now. How many languages do you know?”

“I can chatter in Irish after a fashion,” said Nora; “and I am supposed, after a fashion also, to know my own tongue.”

“Irish!” said Mrs. Hartrick in a tone of quivering scorn. “I don't mean anything of that sort. I allude to your acquaintance with French, German, and Italian.”

“I do know a very little French,” said Nora; “that is, I can read one or two books in French. Mother taught me what I know; but I do not know any German or any Italian. I don't see that it matters,” she continued, a flush coming into her cheeks. “I should never talk German or Italian in Ireland. I wouldn't be understood if I did.”

“That has nothing to do with it, Nora; and your tone, my dear, without meaning it, of course, was just a shade pert just now. It is essential in the present day that all well-educated women should be able to speak at least in three languages.”

“Then I am sorry, Aunt Grace, for I am afraid you will despise me. I shall never be well educated in that sense of the word.”

Mrs. Hartrick was silent.

“I will speak to your uncle,” she said after a pause. “While you are here you can have lessons. It would be possible to arrange that you went to school with Linda and Molly, and had French and German lessons while there.”

“But I don't expect to be very long in England,” said Nora, a note of alarm in her voice.

“Oh, my dear child, now that we have got you, we shall not allow you to go in a hurry. It is such a nice change for you, too; this is your first visit to England, is it not?”

“Yes, Aunt Grace.”

“We won't let you go for some time, little Nora. Your brother is a dear fellow; your uncle and I admire him immensely, and he is quite well educated and so adaptable; and I am sure you would be the same, my dear, when you have had the many chances which will be offered to you here. You must look upon me as your real aunt, dear, and tell me anything that you wish. Don't be shy of me, my love; I can quite understand that a young girl, when she first leaves her mother, is rather shy.”

“I never felt shy at home,” answered Nora; “but then, you know, I was more with father than with mother.”

“More with your father! Does he stay at home all day, then?”

“He is always about the place; he has nothing else to do.”

“Of course he has large estates.”

“They are not so very large, Aunt Grace.”

“Well, dear, that is a relative term, of course; but from your uncle's description, and to judge from your mother's letters, it must be a very large place. By the way, how does she manage her servants? She must have a large staff at Castle O'Shanaghgan.”

“I don't think we manage our servants particularly well,” said Nora. “It is true they all stay with us; but then we don't keep many.”

“How many, dear?”

“There's Pegeen—she is the parlor-maid—and there's the cook—we do change our cook sometimes, for mother is rather particular; then there is the woman who attends to the fowls, and the woman who does the washing, and—I think that is about all. Oh, there's the post-boy; perhaps you would consider him a servant, but I scarcely think he ought to be called one. We give him twopence a week for fetching the letters. He is a very good little boy. He stands on his head whenever he sees me; he is very fond of me, and that is the way he shows his affection. It would make you laugh, Aunt Grace, if you saw Michael standing on his head.”

“It would make me shudder, you mean,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “Really, Nora, your account of your mother's home is rather disparaging; two or three very rough servants, and no more. But I understood you lived in castle.”

“Oh, a castle may mean anything; but it is not fair for you and Uncle George to think we are rich, for we are very poor. And,” continued Nora, “for my part, I love to be poor.” She stood up abruptly. In her excitement all her bits of silk tumbled to the floor. “May I go out and have a run, Aunt Grace?” she said. “I feel quite stiff. I am not accustomed to being indoors for so long at a time.”

“You can go out, Nora, if you like,” said her aunt in a displeased tone; “but, first, have the goodness to pick up all those bits you have dropped.”

Nora, with flushed cheeks, stooped and picked up the bits of silk. She wrapped them in a piece of paper and put them on the table.

“You can stay out for an hour, my dear; but you are surely not going without a hat.”

“I never wear a hat at home,” said Nora.

“You must run upstairs and fetch your hat,” said Mrs. Hartrick.

Poor Nora never felt more tried in the whole course of her life.

“I shall get as bad as Molly if this goes on,” she thought to herself.