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Updated: June 20, 2025
You will probably spend the greater portion of your time there for the next few years, until you are really accomplished. But the holidays you, with your dear cousins and your uncle and aunt, will always spend at O'Shanaghgan. You must understand, dear, that the house really belongs to your uncle; the place is his, and we are simply his tenants, from whom he nobly asks no rent.
The Squire, however, seemed cheerful enough, plodding over his land, or arranging about the horses, or doing the thousand-and-one small things which occupied his life. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan seemed to have forgotten all about the mortgage, and was eagerly discussing ways and means with Terence. Terence avoided Nora's eyes, and rode off early in the evening to see the nearest tailor.
"Do come away," said Molly; "when Linda speaks in that prim voice she's intolerable. Come, Nora; come, Stephie we'll just have a run by ourselves." Nora was still looking rather pale. The shock of the morning had caused the color to fade from her cheeks; she could not get the utterly changed O'Shanaghgan out of her head. She longed to write to her father, and yet she did not dare.
She replied to him somewhat pertly, and he retired once more into his shell. "Pretty as my sister is," he soliloquized, "she really is such an ignorant girl that few fellows would care to speak to her. It is a sad pity." Terence, the last hope of the house of O'Shanaghgan, was heard to sigh profoundly. His aunt, Mrs. Hartrick, and his cousin Linda would, doubtless, sympathize with him.
It is true I have become accustomed to it now. But, Nora, if you only could realize what my old home was really like." "I don't want to realize any home different from this," said the girl, a cloud shading her bright eyes for the moment. "You are silly and prejudiced," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. "It is a great trial to me to have a daughter so unsympathetic." "Oh, mummy!
"So here goes; we'll look and see if there is anything inside here for you, my little Norrie." The Squire unlocked the bag and emptied the contents on the table. They were very meager contents; nothing but the newspaper and one letter. The Squire took it up and looked at it. "Here we are," he said; "it is for you, my dear." "For me," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, holding out her hand.
"I have heard of mortgages all my life; it seems to be the fashion at O'Shanaghgan to mortgage to any extent. There is nothing in that; father will give up a little more of the land." "How much land do you think is left?" "I am sure I can't say; not much, I presume."
Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, with all her English nerves, had plenty of pluck, and would scorn to show even a vestige of fear before the hangers-on, as she called the numerous ragged urchins who appeared from every quarter on each imaginable occasion.
O'Shanaghgan packed the precious cross into a little box, and took it out herself to register it, and to send it off to the jeweler who always bought the trinkets she sent him. She told him that she expected him to give her, without the smallest demur, seventy pounds for the cross, and hoped to have the money by the next day's post.
Why, it was on your own outside car that I came across country, and I cannot walk all the way back to Cronane. Oh, but what a truly beautiful house! I never saw anything like it. Why, it is a sort of palace!" Biddy's open admiration of the glories of O'Shanaghgan absolutely made the good mistress of the mansion smile. Mrs.
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