"And for goodness' sake don't look so sorrowfully at me, Nora; we
can talk, and we can act and do good deeds, without giving ourselves
away. I hate girls who wear their hearts on their sleeves."

"Oh! you will _never_ understand," said Nora, starting back
again; all her burst of feeling turned in upon herself. "I can't
imagine how you are father's son," she began. But then she stopped,
waited for a moment, and then said quietly, "There is a fresh
mortgage, and it is for a very big sum."

"Oh, is that all?" said Terence. "I have heard of mortgages all my
life; it seems to be the fashion at O'Shanaghgan to mortgage to any
extent. There is nothing in that; father will give up a little more
of the land."

"How much land do you think is left?"

"I am sure I can't say; not much, I presume."

"It is my impression," said Nora--"I am not sure; but it is my
impression--that there is _nothing_ left to meet this big thing
but the--the--the land on which"--her voice broke--"Terry, the land
on which the house stands."

"Really, Nora, you are so melodramatic. I don't know how you can
know anything of this."

"I only guess. Mother is very unhappy."

"Mother? Is she?"