“No, it is not for you, my lady, as it happens. It is for Nora. Here, Norrie, take it.”
Nora took it up. She was shivering now, and her hand could scarcely hold it. It was addressed to her, beyond doubt: “Miss O'Shanaghgan, Castle O'Shanaghgan,” etc.
“Read it at once, Nora,” said her mother. “I have not yet had any letter to speak of from Terry myself. If you read it aloud it will entertain us. It seems to be a thick letter.”
“I don't think—I don't think it—it is from Terence,” answered Nora.
“Nonsense, my dear.”
“Open it, Norrie, and tell us,” said the Squire. “It will be refreshing to hear a bit of outside news.”
Nora now opened the envelope, and took a very thick sheet of paper out. The contents of the letter ran as follows:
“My Dear Nora—Your brother Terence came here a week ago, and has told us a great deal about you. We are enjoying having him extremely; but he has made us all anxious to know you also. I write now to ask if you will come and pay us a visit at once, while your brother is here. Ask your mother to spare you. You can return with Terence whenever you are tired of us and our ways. I have business at Holyhead next Tuesday, and could meet you there, if you could make it convenient to cross that day. I inclose a paper with the hours that the boats leave, and when they arrive at Holyhead. I could then take you up with me to London, and we could reach here that same evening. Ask my sister to spare you. You will be heartily welcome, my little Irish niece.—Your affectionate uncle,
“George Hartrick.”
Nora could scarcely read the words aloud. When she had finished she let the sheet of paper flutter to the floor, and looked at her mother with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes.