wings of the wind.

Mrs. O'Shanaghgan gave one hurried pant of suppressed anguish, and
then sat perfectly still, her lips set, her hands tightly locked
together. She endured these drives almost daily, but had never yet
got accustomed to them. Nora, on the contrary, as they spun through
the air, felt her spirits rising; the hot young blood coursed through
her veins, and her eyes blazed with fun and happiness. She looked
back at her father, who nodded to her briefly.

"That's it, Nora; keep her well in. Now that we are going uphill you
can give her her head a bit. Whoa, Black Bess! Whoa!"

The mare, after her first wild canter, settled into a more jog-trot
gait, and the dog-cart did not sway so violently from side to side.
They were soon careering along a wide, well-made road, which ran for
many miles along the top of some high cliffs. Below them, at their
feet, the wild Atlantic waves curled and burst in innumerable
fountains of spray; the roar of the waves came up to their ears, and
the breath of the salt breeze, the freshest and most invigorating in
the world, fanned their cheeks. Even Mrs. O'Shanaghgan felt her
heart beating less wildly, and ventured to put a question or two to
Nora with regard to the clucking hen, Mrs. Perch.

"I have not forgotten the basket, mammy," said the girl; "and Hannah
will put the eggs under the hen tonight."

"I am quite certain that Hannah mismanaged the last brood," said
Mrs. O'Shanaghgan; "but everything goes wrong at the Castle just
now."