Nora

“ Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon
My Nora's lid that seldom rises;
Few its looks, but every one,
Like unexpected light, surprises!
Oh, My Nora Creina, dear,
My gentle, bashful Nora Creina,
Beauty lies
In many eyes,
But love in yours, My Nora Creina.
Lesbia wears a robe of gold,
But all so close the nymph hath laced it,
Not a charm of beauty's mould
Presumes to stay where nature placed it.
Oh! my Nora's gown for me,
That floats as wild as mountain breezes,
Leaving every beauty free
To sink or swell as Heaven pleases.
Yes, my Nora Creina, dear. ”

“ But whenever some whisper of romance did soften his hard, strong mind, or whenever moon or stars did charm his gaze from earth, Nora's bright Muse-like face, Nora's sweet loving eyes, were seen in moon and star-beam, Nora's low tender voice heard in the whisper of that which we call romance, and which is but the sound of the mysterious poetry that is ever in the air, would we but deign to hear it! ”

“ She seemed to live but to do something for Miss Barnes.
To Nora, life was like a dream—a dream of heaven, at that. Always warm, always fed, always safe from roughness, surrounded by things so beautiful she scarcely dared to touch them; every want attended to before it was felt. It was too wonderful to seem true. In dreams she would often return to the desolate shanty, where the winds blew through the cracks, and the rickety old stove was no better fed than her mother and herself. ”

“ You see, Nora, it is Chattaway and my mother's will balancing against all the hopes and prospects of my life. I know that my father charged me to obey my mother; but, on the other hand, I know that if he were alive he would be pained to see me here; would be the first to take me away. When these thoughts come forcibly upon me, I doubt whether I can remain."
"You must not encourage them," said Nora.
"I don't encourage them; they come in spite of me. The fear comes; it is always coming. Don't say anything at home, Nora. I have made up my mind to stop, and I'll try hard to do it. ”

“ Had Nora looked from heaven into her mother's heart Nora would not have thought so. A good name when the burial stone closes over dust is still a possession upon the earth; on earth it is indeed our only one! ”

“ Nora went back into the disordered little drawing-room, and set to work with a new will. The spirit of cheery content and selflessness had been left sitting on the sofa, and it seemed to chuckle in a peculiar, fat, comfortable way as Nora pushed the chairs backwards and forwards in the vain attempt to induce an air of elegance.
"Even if she does admire the furniture, and think the flat perfection, she has a good, kind heart," Nora thought. "I am glad we are going to be friends." ”

“ Nora gave a little involuntary cry, dropped her looking-glass, and colored crimson with vexation at finding that some one was watching her.
"What ought I to do, I wonder?" Such was the thought that flashed through the young man's mind. He was remarkably quick in receiving impressions and in drawing conclusions. "She is not a French girl, thank goodness, fresh from a convent, and afraid to open her lips! Neither is she the conventional young English lady, or she would not sit on a fence and look at herself in a pocket looking-glass. ”

“ Very slim and straight was Nora, with a skin as white as the foam flakes crisping over the sands, and eyes of the tremulous, haunting blue that deepens on the water after a fair sunset. But her hair was as black as midnight, and her lips blossomed out with a ripe redness against the uncoloured purity of her face. She was far and away the most beautiful of the harbour girls, but hardly the most popular. Men and women alike thought her proud. Even her friends felt themselves called upon to make excuses for her unlikeness to themselves. ”

“ Why did Vita come up? There was no draft from any window. Was there even a window?
“I tell you, baby,” the woman began, as if answering Nora’s silent questions, “you be a very good little girl and go down to the pretty sun-gold room; yes?”
The big warm arm was cuddling the little form in the bed, and Cap was so happy he put both paws gingerly on the coverlet, snapping a very short bark of a question right into Nora’s face.
“Quiet, boy!” whispered Nora. “We are having a lovely party but we must not wake our neighbors.” ”

“ He won’t die, Nora; but still I’ll break his confidence, darling, and tell it you this evening.—O Nora, Nora! you say you wish to goodness you hadn’t got all these dreadful, wicked, West Indian feelings. You’re brave enough—I know that—no woman braver. Why don’t you have the courage to break through them, then, and come away with Edward and me to England, and accept poor Mr Noel, who would gladly give his very life a thousand times over for you, darling?’
Nora burst into tears once more, and nestled, sobbing, closer and closer upon Marian’s shoulder. ”

“ The lady had a beautiful face framed in white hair; she flashed a look on Nora in her shabby gown standing in the cruel sunlight—a wistful, pathetic little figure, with something worth remembering in her eager eyes. The young lady at her side was drawing on a long glove, and Nora saw the sparkle of her pretty rings. In spite of the lady's wan face, it all suggested comfort, and prosperity,' sunshine, warmth; the green things of life seemed to little Nora to be shut in, and to come out of that quaint old garden. ”

“ Therefore Nora knew no more of love than does the novice who has never left her convent! She could not comprehend the reason why after meeting with Herman Brudenell she had taken such a disgust at the rustic beaus who had hitherto pleased her; nor yet why her whole soul was so very strangely troubled; why at once she was so happy and so miserable; and, above all, why she could not speak of these things to her sister Hannah. She tossed about in feverish excitement.
"What in the world is the matter with you, Nora? You are as restless as a kitten; what ails you?" asked Hannah. ”

“ I like you in white, Nora. White, toned with lace and coloured ribbons, makes a charming dress for you. You have such a pretty face. It is so full of esprit—so piquant. Some day you will be a beautiful woman."
"As beautiful as you are?" asked Nora. "I don't desire to be more beautiful than you."
"In some ways you will be more beautiful," replied Annie. "I don't pretend that I am not pretty, I know I am; but in some ways you will be superior to me. You will have a greater air of distinction. Noblesse oblige will be abundantly manifested in you. ”

“ It is only—I am so silly and weak—and the music——" She broke off and looked up into Nora's face with a pathetic, twisted smile. And then, seeming to yield to a passionate impulse, she flung her thin arms about her companion's neck. "Oh, Nora, you are so pretty and good! Every one must love you—and I love you so!"
The words were an appeal, a confession, a cry breaking from an over-burdened heart. Nora drew the fair head against her shoulder, pitying and comforting a grief which she as yet but partly understood. ”

“ Nora said gently. To herself she was thinking how beautiful suffering can be. The face lifted to hers—the alabaster complexion, the great dark eyes and fine aristocratic features framed in a bright halo of disordered hair—seemed to her almost unearthly in its spiritualised loveliness. And then there was the expression, so void of all vanity, so eloquent with the appeal: "You are so strong, so beautiful in your youth and strength. Be pitiful to me!"
Governed by some secret impulse, Nora looked up and found that Frau von Arnim was watching her intently. ”

“ Silent, and strangely sick at heart, Nora followed Frau von Arnim from the room into the passage. There the elder woman took the troubled young face between her hands and kissed it.
"Hildegarde loves you," she said gravely. "I perhaps know best how much; but she has lost a great deal that makes life worth living, Nora, and sometimes bitterness rises above every other feeling. When that happens you must have pity and understanding. ”

“ It is Nora, of course. Good morning, dear child. I must have been indulging in what you call a day-dream, for when you came in I thought it was really poor little Hildegarde grown well and strong again." She held Nora at arm's length. "I do not think the resemblance will ever cease to startle me. The riding-habit makes you look so alike—though really you are quite, quite different."
She tried to laugh, but the hurried tone, the sudden colour that had rushed to the usually pale cheeks betrayed to Nora the painful impression she had caused. ”

“ She was admitted by her old friend Lucinda, who, between trouble and wonder, found a thousand things to say. Nora's beauty had never received warmer tribute than the affectionate marvellings of this old woman who had known her early plainness so well. She led her into the drawing-room, opened the windows and turned her about in the light, patted her braided tresses, and rejoiced with motherly unction in her tallness and straightness and elegance. Of Roger she spoke with tearful eyes. ”

“ CHAPTER III—A BROKEN DREAM
It was evening at the Nest, and the quiet settling down on the woodlands vibrated with a melody, at once silent and musical.
Little Nora fairly trembled with expectation. What would the night bring? She was determined to sleep in that attic under the big, dark rafters. As a matter of fact Nora was fascinated with fear; just as one may stop on a river bridge and feel like jumping in.
“Just pound on the floor, Kitten, if you get scared. We’ll run up and get you, quickly enough,” declared Jerry, secretly proud of Nora’s pluck. ”

“ A pat of the cap, a brash of the tie and a swish of the flying scarf gave the finishing touches.
Really Nora made “a perfectly stunning” little Lord Fauntleroy. Had she been more accustomed to the sayings of the day she might well have exclaimed, “All dressed up and no place to go,” but her culture admitted of no such expressive parlance. Instead, she asked herself in the looking glass: “Wonder if I dare go outside? It is so comfortable to wear this style”; and she skipped around as every other girl on earth has ever done the very moment she felt relieved of the trammel of skirts. ”

“ Then modulating his voice, he said more tenderly, "Dear Nora, can you not have pity on me? I love you as no one else can love you. I would make you my wife; and instead of living in a pauper's cabin, giving away your precious life for a mere morsel of bread, you would be the equal of any lady in the land, and live in a fine house, and have servants to attend you slightest wish." ”

“ Nora. No, indeed you mustn’t. Of course you must come and go as you’ve always done. You know very well that Torvald can’t do without you.
Rank. Yes, but you?
Nora. Oh, you know I always like to have you here.
Rank. That is just what led me astray. You are a riddle to me. It has often seemed to me as if you liked being with me almost as much as being with Helmer.
Nora. Yes; don’t you see? There are people one loves, and others one likes to talk to. ”

“ Lady Jane was at first very angry with Nora for the rejection of a suitor whom she had presented as eligible. But the pathetic grace of this wonderful girl had crept into her heart, and softened it even against family prejudice; and she gradually owned to herself that Nora was worthy of some one better than Mr. Levy.
Now, Harley had ever believed that Nora returned his love, and that nothing but her own sense of gratitude to his parents, her own instincts of delicacy, made her deaf to his prayers. ”

“ Next came the evening hymn, which the mother sang, sitting by the crib. Poor little Nora was almost benumbed with cold; but this singing was so sweet, she must stop just a few moments longer. Wrapping her thin shawl tightly about her, she stood bending over, her ear close to the window, that not a note might be lost.
And soon, almost without knowing it, she, too, was singing. But, as Nora had never learned any hymns, she could only sing what was in her mind: “Nora is cold; Nora has no blanket; Nora cannot kiss any mother.” ”

“ Nora obeyed willingly, and whilst the white, delicate hands were busy with the cups standing on the low tray, she had opportunity to study the woman upon whom the weal or woe of perhaps a whole long year depended. "She is not as beautiful as my mother," Nora thought, but the criticism was no disparagement. If Frau von Arnim was not actually beautiful, she at least bore on every feature marked refinement, and the expression of the whole face, pale and slightly haughty though it was, had a certain indefinable fascination which held Nora's attention riveted. ”

“ Everything was so still, but Nora was not lonely—her own reflections kept her such noisy company that isolation had no terror for her. Just outside the cedar grove a strip of road waited for traffic. Few persons passed, but even woodlands must have roads, just as skies must have clouds.
Feeling more at home in her costume every moment, Nora stepped proudly outside the grove into the clearance. A fat little hoptoad crossed the path, but otherwise the prince was lord of all he surveyed. The whole world was busy, evidently, and even a visiting prince attracted no attention in the wild woodlands. ”

“ The temptation was strong within Nora to tell Alma just why she wanted to go up close to the big women with hoes and rakes; but the memory of Lucia’s dark eyes, that looked so like dewy pansies when the child begged: “You will never tell,” that memory sealed Nora’s lips, while she eagerly sought out any small figure that might be that of the little slave of labor.
“I don’t like those horrid women,” said Alma. “Why don’t you want to go over the other way, out into the pretty woodlands, Nora? Come on and let’s run back. ”