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Updated: June 20, 2025
You will never endure life if you go on as you have begun, Nora." "Terence," said Nora, looking up at him, "when are you going home?" "When am I going home? Thank you, I am very comfortable here." "Don't you think that just at present, when father is in trouble, his only son, the heir of O'Shanaghgan, ought to be with him?"
When those she loved were happy, no one in all the world was happier than Nora O'Shanaghgan; but when any gloom fell on the home-circle, then Nora suffered far more than anyone gave her credit for. She had passed an anxious day at home, watching her father intently, afraid to question him, and only darting glances at him when she thought he was not looking.
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.
He resolved to treat her confidence with the respect it seemed to him it deserved; and, without hesitation, he wrote her the sort of letter she had asked him to write. She should pay him a visit, and he would find out for himself the true state of things at Castle O'Shanaghgan.
Squire O'Shanaghgan was a tall, powerfully built man, with deep-set eyes and rugged, overhanging brows; his hair was of a grizzled gray, very thick and abundant; he had a shaggy beard, too, and a long overhanging mustache. He entered the north parlor still more noisily than Nora had done. The dogs yelped with delight, and flung themselves upon him. "Down, Creena! down, Cushla!" he said.
It is true she was never grotesque like Biddy Murphy; but up to the present dress had scarcely entered at all as a factor into her life. The next few days passed in a whirl of bewildered excitement. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan received, as she expected, by return of post, seventy pounds from the Dublin jeweler for her lovely diamond cross. This man was rapidly making his fortune out of poor Mrs.
She hastily divested herself of her ragged cotton skirt, and put on the pale blue with the dirty silk flounces. "What are you looking so grave for?" she said, glancing up at Nora. "I declare you're too stately for anything, Nora O'Shanaghgan! You stand there, and I know you criticise me." "No; I love you too much," replied Nora. "You are Biddy Murphy, one of my greatest friends."
There, unlock the door." "But you are worse, father; you are worse." "What else can you expect? They don't chain up wild animals and expect them to get well. I never lived through anything of this sort before, and it's just smothering me." Mrs. O'Shanaghgan entered the room. "Patrick," she said, "would you like some sweetbread and a bit of pheasant for your dinner?"
"Go on, Nora; you describe the sea just like any other sea." "Oh, but it is like no other sea," said Nora. "And then there are the mountains, their feet washed by the waves." "Quite poetical," said Mrs. Hartrick. "It is; it is all poetry," said Nora. "You are not laughing at me, are you, Aunt Grace? I wish you could see those mountains and that sea, and then the home O'Shanaghgan itself."
As soon as they were gone Mrs. O'Shanaghgan sent for Nora to come and sit in the room with her. "I have been thinking during the night how terribly neglected you are," she said; "you are not getting the education which a girl in your position ought to receive. You learn nothing now." "Oh, mother, my education is supposed to be finished," answered Nora. "Finished indeed!" said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan.
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