"Come in here, Nora," I said, opening the door of the morning-room which
I usually had to myself for an hour or so after breakfast. "And how is
the child? Better, I hope."
"Little Katty is quite well again, Miss Bawn, and I've come to tell you,
please Miss Bawn, that I'd rather not come back. 'Tisn't that I'm
ungrateful, Miss. No young lady could be kinder and better than you. But
my uncle is going to marry again, and if you please, Miss Bawn, I think
I should like to go to America."
"Don't go to America, Nora," I said; "it's a terrible place. I'll look
after you. I'll speak to Miss Champion, and we'll see what we can do.
Miss Champion has so many friends. She'll easily get you another place,
away from this, in Dublin."
Suddenly the large tears filled Nora's eyes and trickled down her
cheeks. She wept in rivers as a child does, and as painlessly.
"Don't ask me to stay, Miss Bawn," she said brokenly. "I want to put
the ocean between me and him. I've done my best to pull him up out of my
heart, and I've prayed my best, but I go on caring for him still. I'd
better be away, Miss Bawn."
"Very well, Nora," I said, in a miserable perplexity. If she cared for
Richard Dawson so much it was she who ought to marry him, peasant girl
as she was.
Pages:
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195