which ran rather deeply into the land. The sand here was of that
silvery sheen which, at low tide, shone like burnished silver. The
cove was noted for its wonderful shells, producing many cowries and
long shells called pointers.

In the days of her early youth Nora had explored the treasures of
this cove, and had secured a valuable collection of shells, as well
as very rare seaweeds, which she had carefully dried. Her mother had
shown her how to make seaweeds and shells into baskets, and many of
these amateur productions adorned the walls of Nora's bedroom.

All the charm of these things had passed away, however; the time had
come when she no longer cared to gather shells or collect seaweeds.
She felt that she was turning very fast into a woman. She had all an
Irish girl's high spirits; but she had, added to these, a peculiarly
warm and sensitive heart. When those she loved were happy, no one in
all the world was happier than Nora O'Shanaghgan; but when any gloom
fell on the home-circle, then Nora suffered far more than anyone
gave her credit for.

She had passed an anxious day at home, watching her father intently,
afraid to question him, and only darting glances at him when she
thought he was not looking. The Squire, however, seemed cheerful
enough, plodding over his land, or arranging about the horses, or
doing the thousand-and-one small things which occupied his life.

Mrs. O'Shanaghgan seemed to have forgotten all about the mortgage,
and was eagerly discussing ways and means with Terence. Terence
avoided Nora's eyes, and rode off early in the evening to see the
nearest tailor. It was not likely that this individual could make a