Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (e book free reading TXT) 📖
- Author: L. T. Meade
Book online «Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (e book free reading TXT) 📖». Author L. T. Meade
“Quite sure.”
“When will you have?”
“Never.”
“Miss Nora, you don't mane it?”
“Yes, I do, Hannah. I have nothing to do with Andy Neil. I did what I could for him, but that little failed. You can tell him that if you like.”
“But is it in earnest you are, Miss Nora? Do you mane to say that you'll let the poor crayther have the roof taken off his cabin? Do you mane it miss?”
“I wouldn't have the roof taken off his cabin,” said Nora; “but father is away, and he is Andy's landlord, and Andy has done something to displease him. He had better come and talk to father himself. I kept my word, and spoke; but I couldn't do anything. Andy had better talk to father himself; I can do no more.”
“You don't guess as it's black rage is in the crayther's heart, and that there's no crime he wouldn't stoop to,” whispered Hannah in a low, awestruck voice.
“I can't help it, Hannah; I am not going to be frightened. Andy would not really injure me, not in cold blood.”
“Oh, wouldn't he just? The man's heart is hot within him; it's the thought of the roof being taken off his cabin. I have come as his messenger. You had best send some sort of message to keep him on the quiet for a bit. Don't you send a hard message of that sort, heart asthore; you'll do a sight of mischief if you do.”
“I can only send him a true message,” replied the girl.
“Whisht now, Miss Nora! You wouldn't come and see him yourself tonight by the Druid's Stone?”
Nora stood for a moment considering. She was not frightened; she had never known that quality. Even in the cave, when her danger was extreme, she had not succumbed to fear; it was impossible for her to feel it now, with the sunlight filling her eyes and the softest of summer breezes blowing against her cheeks. She looked full at Hannah.
“I won't go,” she said shortly.
“Miss Nora, I wouldn't ask yez if I could help myself. It's bothered I am entirely, and frightened too. You'll come with me, Miss Nora—won't yez?”
“I will not come,” answered Nora. “My mother is alone, and I cannot leave her; but I tell you what I will do. Just to show Andy that I am not afraid of him, when father returns I will come. Father will be back in a couple of days; when he returns I will speak to him once more about Andy, and I will bring Andy the message; and that is all I can promise. If that is all you want to say to me, Hannah, I will go home now, for mother is all alone.”
Hannah stood with her little, squat figure silhouetted against the sky; she had placed both her arms akimbo, and was gazing at Nora with a half-comical, half-frightened glance.
“You're a beauty,” she said, “and you has the courage of ten women. I'll tell Andy what you say; but, oh, glory! there's mischief in that man's eyes, or I'm much mistook.”
“You can't frighten me,” said Nora, with a laugh. “How are the children?”
“Oh, bless yez, they're as well and bonny as can be. Little Mike, he said he'd stand and wait till you passed by the gate, he's that took up with you, Miss Nora. You'd be concaited if you heard all he says about you.”
Nora thrust her hand into her pocket.
“Here,” she said, “is a bright halfpenny; give it to Mike, and tell him that Nora loves him very much. And now I am going home. Hannah, you'll remember my message to Andy, and please let him understand that he is not going to frighten me into doing anything I don't think right.”
CHAPTER X. — THE INVITATION.
Squire O'Shanaghgan came home in a couple of days. He entered the house in noisy fashion, and appeared to be quite cheerful. He had a great deal to say about Dublin, and talked much of his old friends during the evening that followed. Nora, however, try as she would, could never meet his eye, and she guessed, even before he told her, that his mission had been a failure. It was early the next morning that he gave her this information.
“I tried them, one and all, colleen,” he said, “and never were fellows more taken aback. 'Is it you to lose your property, O'Shanaghgan?' they said. They wouldn't believe me at first.”
“Well, father, and will they help?” said Nora.
“Bless you, they would if they could. There's not a better-natured man in the length and breadth of Ireland than Fin O'Hara; and as to John Fitzgerald, I believe he would take us all into his barrack of a house; but they can't help with money, Nora, because, bedad, they haven't got it. A man can't turn stones into money, even for his best and dearest friends.”
“Then what is to be done, father?”
“Oh, I'll manage somehow,” said Squire O'Shanaghgan; “and we have three months all but a week to turn round in. We'll manage by hook or by crook. Don't you fret your pretty little head. I wouldn't have a frown on the brow of my colleen for fifty O'Shanaghgans, and that's plain enough. I couldn't say more, could I?”
“No, father dear,” answered Nora a little sadly.
“And tell me what you were doing while I was away,” said the Squire. “Faith! I thought I could never get back fast enough, I seemed to pine so for you, colleen; you fit me down to the ground.”
Nora began to relate the small occurrences which had taken place. The Squire laughed at Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's sudden desire that Nora should be an educated lady.
“I don't hold with these new fashions about women,” he said; “and you are educated enough for me.”
“But, father, I like to read, I like to learn,” said the girl. “I am very, very anxious to improve myself. I may be good enough for you, dear father, for you love me with all my faults; but some day I may pine for the knowledge which I have not got.”
“Eh! is it that way with you?” said the Squire, looking at her anxiously. “They say it's a sort of a craze now amongst women, the desire to beat us men on our own ground; it's very queer, and I don't understand it, and I am sorry if the craze has seized my girleen.”
“Oh! never mind, father dear; I wouldn't fret you for all the learning in Christendom.”
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