pretty young thing like you. But there, let me go on. It was five
years ago I mortgaged some of the place, a good bit, to my old
friend Dan Murphy. He lent me ten thousand pounds--not a penny more,
I assure you. It just tided me over, and I thought, of course, I'd
pay him back, interest and all, by easy stages. It seemed so easy to
mortgage the place to Murphy, and there was nothing else to be
done."

The Squire had been walking slowly; now he stopped, dropped Nora's
hand from his arm, and faced her.

"It seemed so easy to mortgage the land to Dan Murphy," he said,
dropping his voice, "so very easy, and that money was so handy, and
I thought--"

"Yes, father?" said Nora in a voice of fear. "You said these words
before. Go on--it was so easy. Well?"

"Well, a month ago, child, I got a letter from Murphy's lawyer in
Dublin, to say that the money must be paid up, or they would
foreclose."

"Foreclose, father. What is that?"

"Take possession, child--take possession."

"A month ago you got that letter? They would take possession--possession
of the land you have mortgaged. Does that mean that it would belong
to Squire Murphy, father?"