Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (e book free reading TXT) 📖

“Bedad, then, it does that,” replied Biddy. “I believe I got it sound and safe from one of the old——”

“You needn't go on,” cried Nora. “I know what you are going to say.”

“And why shouldn't I say it? You would be proud enough to be descended from——”

“Oh, I have a very fine descent of my own,” answered Nora, with spirit.

“Now, if I was like you,” began Biddy, “wouldn't I be proud, just? But dear, dear! there never were two Irish girls farther asunder as far as appearance goes. See here, let me describe myself, feature by feature. Oh, here's a clear pool. I can get a glimpse of myself in it. You come and look in too, Nora. Now, then, we can see ourselves. Oh, holy poker! it's cruel the difference between us. Here's my forehead low and bumpy, and my little nose, scarcely any of it, and what there is turned right up to the sky; and my wide mouth, and my little eyes, and my hair just standing straight up as rakish as you please. And look at you, with your elegant features and your—oh, but it's genteel you are!—and I love you, Nora alannah; I love you, and am not a bit jealous of you.”

Here the impulsive girl threw her arms round her friend's neck and kissed her.

“All the same,” she added, “I wish those clouds were not coming up. It has been so precious hot all day that I should not be the least surprised if we had a thunderstorm.”

“A thunderstorm while we are in the cave would be magnificent,” said Nora.

“Does anything ever frighten you, Nora?”

“I don't think anything in nature could frighten me; but there are some things I am frightened at.”

“What? Do tell me. I should like to know.”

“You'll keep it a secret—won't you, Biddy?”

“To be sure I will. When did I ever blaze out anything you told me? If I am plain, I am faithful.”

“Well, I am afraid of pain,” said Nora.

“Pain! You? But I have seen you scratch yourself ever so deep and not so much as wink; and I mind that time when you twisted your ankle and you didn't even pretend you were hurt.”

“Oh, it is not that sort of pain. I am terrified of pain when it affects those I love. But there! don't ask me any more. Here are the boys; we'll jump into the boat and be off. Why, it is half-past ten, and it will take half-an-hour's good rowing to cross the bay, and then we have to enter the cave and——”

“I don't like those clouds,” said Biddy. “I wonder if it is safe to go.”

“Safe?” said Nora. “We must go. Mother won't allow me to spend another night here, and I shall lose my chance. I am determined to speak to the Banshee or die in the attempt.”

The splash of oars was now distinctly audible, and the next moment a four-oared gig swiftly turned the little promontory and shot with a rapid movement into the bay.

“Why,” said Biddy, running forward, “who's in the boat?”

A lad and a man now stood upright and motioned to the girls.

“Where's Neil?” said Biddy.

“Neil could not come, Miss Biddy, so I'm taking his place,” said the deep voice of a powerful-looking man. He had a black beard down to his waist, flashing black eyes, a turned-up nose, and a low forehead. A more bull-dog and ferocious-looking individual it would be hard to find. Biddy, however, knew him; he was Neil's father—Andy Neil, as he was called. He was known to be a lawless and ferocious man, and was very much dreaded by most of the neighbors around. Neither Nora nor Biddy, however, felt any reason to fear him and Nora said almost cheerfully:

“As we are to have such a stiff row, it is just as well to have a man in the boat.”

“Faix, now, young ladies, come along, and don't keep me waiting,” said Andy, rising and brandishing one of his oars in a threatening way. “There's a storm coming on, and I want to be out of this afore it overtakes us. Oh, glory be to goodness, there's a flash of lightning!”

There came a flash on the edge of the horizon, lighting up the thick bank of rapidly approaching clouds.

“Nora, had we better go tonight?” said Biddy. She had as little fear as her friend, but even she did not contemplate with pleasure a wild storm in the midst of the Atlantic.

The man Neil looked gravely round.

“Och! good luck to ye now, young ladies; don't be kaping me waiting after the botheration of coming to fetch yez. Come along, and be quick about it.”

“To be sure,” said Nora. She splashed bravely into the surf, for the boat could not quite reach the shore. The waves reached high above her pretty, rosy ankles as she stepped into the boat.

Biddy followed in her wake; and then Nora, producing a rough towel, began to dry her feet. Both girls put on their shoes and stockings again in absolute silence.

Neil had now faced the boat seaward, and with great sweeps with a pair of sculls was taking it out to sea. The tide was in their favor, and they went at a rapid rate. The man did not speak at all, and his face was in complete shadow. Nora breathed hard in suppressed excitement and delight. Biddy crouched at the bottom of the boat and watched the clouds as they came up.

“I wish I hadn't come,” she muttered once or twice.

The boy Mike sat at the stern. The two girls had nothing whatever to do.

“Shall I take an oar, Andy?” said Nora at last.

“You, miss?”

“I can take a pair of oars and help you,” said the girl.

“If it plazes you, miss.” The man hastily stepped to the back of the boat. Nora took her place, and soon they were going at greater speed than ever. She was a splendid oarswoman, and feathered her oars in the most approved fashion.

In less than the prescribed half-hour they reached the entrance to the great cave.

They were safe. A hollow, booming noise greeted them as they came close. Andy bent forward and gave Nora a brief direction.

“Ship your oars now, miss. Aisy now; aisy now. Now, then, I'll take one pull; pull your left oar again. Now, here we are.”

He spoke with animation. Nora obeyed him implicitly. They entered the shadow of the cave, and the next instant found themselves in complete darkness. The boat bobbed up and down