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Show NORA CHREEMAN. A fresh young Irish voice rang out in merry song, a voice like a bird's; it was so full of trills and quiverings. ‘Twas the beauty of an Irish face which was raised laughingly to Lord Kilderm's. ‘Twas a pair of the bluest of Irish blue eyes which looked up to his as the sweet young voice continued.- "So you are going away, Lord Kilderm?" Lord Kilderm looked down into those blue eyes with a gaze of passionate longing. Had he not looked into them with passionate longing ever since he met this wild young Irish beauty, Nora Chreeman, three months before? Had he not begged with passionate longing, the joy of looking forever in those same blue eyes? But never so much as a word of love had little Nora's rosebud lips ever given him. <br><br> He looked at her now with dark eyes alight with such intense love as to startle even the laughing girl who had caused that love. He did not reply to her question, and before she could ask it again she felt herself encircled by a strong arm and pressed close to Lord Kilderm's heart. She could hear it beat with overpowering love for her as she lay there on his breast, lay there with such an exquisite sense of joy as to fairly conquer her-and Nora Creeman was not easily conquered; but-she owned it to herself with a sort of gasp-she loved him. But she would never let him know it; she thought, never, so long as she lived. With this thought she struggled free from his fond arms; and stood a little way off, looking at him with mischievous eyes. "Little Nora do you love me? I could have sworn it a moment ago, looking into your precious face. You will be my wife, little one?" he questioned eagerly. She laughed a low, little laugh, in which a close observer might have detected a ring of bitterness. "Love you? Nora Chreeman love you?" Again the silvery laugh floated forth. "What would Lord Kilderm's haughty and aristocratic parents say if they knew that their idolized son and heir was asking an humble little Irish girl to be his wife?" <br><br> Ah! So this is the reason she evaded him so long, Lord Kilderm said to himself. He would try and overcome that objection, although he knew every word the girl uttered was true. He could picture to himself his dainty mother's horror, his father's anger, if they knew the true state of affairs. But he would risk his father's anger ten times over if he could, by doing so, claim Nora Chreeman as his own. "I care not what they would think," he answered daringly. "Am I not my own master? Only say you will marry me, darling, and they may think what they may." <br><br> But the blue eyes never softened, the little feet did not come a step nearer; instead, they retreated farther away. "I fully appreciate the honor, my lord, but decline becoming Lady Kilderm," she replied in a mocking voice. "And by the way it is nearly three o'clock and I ought to have been home an hour ago." She picked up her pretty straw hat, now covered with wild flowers, as she spoke, and, shaking the flowers from her hair, and smoothing the wrinkles from her plain white dress, she turned to go. <br><br> "Nora, you will not leave me without one word of hope? Remember, I shall not see you again till I can get away from London, which will be a month at the very shortest," he implored, pleadingly. "Then I advise you not to come and see me again, as, once for all, Lord Kilderm, I will never be your wife," in a tone of firm decision. "Forget me!" she said, with sudden earnestness. "Go back to London, and marry some proudly reared and nobly born lady, whom your parents have chosen for you, and I prophesy that in a week you will have forgotten Nora Chreeman." <br><br> "I could not forget you, little Nora, and, by Heaven! you shall be mine, I swear it! Those sweet lips shall yet say you love me." She picked up her hat which had again fallen to the ground, and with a laughing "Time will tell, Lord Kilderm!" she was off over the fields, her taunting laugh floating back to where Lord Kilderm leaned gloomily against the trunk of the tree under which they both had been standing. He must go to London to-morrow, and leave these lovely Irish hills and dales and his fair Irish love behind him, and his heart rebelled hotly. <br><br> Little did Nora Chreeman know how near the truth her remark about his marrying some one of his own rank came. He thought now of all his parents' hopes and plans, laid upon his marriage to Lady Laura Belmont, a reigning London belle, and whose estate joined that of their own. He knew his father's heart was set upon this marriage, and he began to think he might as well marry Lady Laura, since he could not have the one true love of his heart. <br><br> And so next day, he was whirled away to London, and reached home just in time to great Lady Laura Belmont, who had been calling on his mother, and was making her adieu just as he arrived. When Lady Laura was gone, and his mother had languidly expressed her joy at his return, she said to him, with a little more animation than she generally used, "And now, Audley, do pay a little more attention to Laura Belmont, and try to come to an understanding with her, as you have been away from her side too long already. It is a wonder some one has not carried off the prize which you might claim as your own if you would but say the word." <br><br> He did not tell her he had said the "word" to a little girl away in Ireland, but instead made an impatient gesture as he went to dress, for to-night he was to attend Lady Laura and his mother to the opera, his mother having gained a reluctant consent from him, and with a sigh he resigned himself to fate. Away in the little Irish village in which was her home, Nora Chreeman sat in her chamber, with her head leaning on her hand, which rested on the sill of the open window. The scent of many flowers floated up to her as she sat there, thinking of those happy moments spent with Lord Kilderm. She gave him up bravely, but she found it much harder to bear than she thought. <br><br> But Nora Chreeman knew, and she knew rightly, too, that she could never have been happy as Lord Kilderm's wife. Happy in his love she might well have been, but she knew too well his aristocratic parents would never have opened their doors to one of so humble birth as hers, no matter how much of a lady she might be; and she was a lady to the ends of her fingertips; for had not Lord Kilderm told her time and again, that she was as much of a lady as any of the proud dames who swept through his mother's drawing room in silks and velvets? <br><br> But although of honest, respectable parentage, Nora had no blue blood in her veins, and she knew full well that she never could have reconciled her mind that she had been the cause of Audley Kilderm's separation from his parents. She knew if Lord Kilderm had been sure of her love for him he would never have left her till she consented to become his, and so she had resolved never to let him know how wholly her heart was his. <br><br> There was a pitiful little droop about the corners of her sweet mouth since Lord Kilderm left her, and she performed her tasks with a patient heart, and in a manner devoid of all the old, laughing way which characterized her before she ever saw Lord Kilderm. <br><br> Lord Kilderm was holding Lady Laura Belmont's fan, opera-glass, and divers other articles belonging to that fashionable young lady, in a private box at the opera, and looking with languid interest on the scene being enacted on the stage below. The play was Faust, and although every one was raving about Marguerite's beauty and exquisite acting, his thoughts were far away in a little Irish village. <br><br> He could endure it no longer, and, although Nora had, that day, bidden him not to come again, he was going to see her once more; once again to plead for her love, once again to look in her dear eyes, and if she refused, then-why, then, and a look of utter misery came into his handsome dark eyes, he would ask Lady Laura to be his wife before the season was over. He might as well make some one happy, for he knew Laura Belmont did not look upon him with unfavorable eyes; and since they all wished it, if Nora Chreeman would not marry him, why La-.<br><br> "Lord Kilderm, this is the third time I have spoken to you without receiving a reply. What are you dreaming of?" Lady Laura's voice broke in upon his revery. He gave a sudden start, and then put his absorbing thoughts out of his mind, and was devoted attention to Laura Belmont for the rest of the evening. Probably if he had never seen the beautiful face of Nora Chreeman he might have loved Laura Belmont; he liked her very much as it was, for although Laura Belmont had turned half the heads of London with her lovely blonde beauty, under her satins beat one of the truest and best of hearts. <br><br> The next day Lord Kilderm told his valet to prepare for a run over to Ireland, and that he should not need his services, all of which information the valet received with a smile, thinking of that other run over to Ireland, and had his own suspicions why his master did not need him. But what his valet thought did not trouble Lord Kilderm, and he hastened away to the train, which would take him to his little love among the Irish hills, and his eyes suddenly grew misty with a tender light as he thought of the future meeting. <br><br> Lord Kilderm lifted the latch of the vine-covered gate which led up the path to the flower-covered cottage where Nora Creeman lived. There was a curious stillness around the place which for a moment made his heart stop beating as a sudden thought flashed through his brain. How odd there was no fresh Irish voice trilling sparkling Irish songs as in days of yore! As the remembrances of those days came back to him he forgot all else, and mounted the steps and knocked with a light heart. <br><br> Nora's aunt opened the door-Nora's aunt who had ever had a kindly regard for Lord Kilderm. She guessed the reason of his coming, and, thinking what was in store for him, there came into her eyes a look of pity, and sorrow as she greeted him. He caught the look, and cried out, "Nora! she is well?" And then his thoughts above the stillness of the place came back to him, and he gasped out, "She is not dead?" "No," Nora's aunt replied; "But she has been very ill, and I am afraid-" She could go no further, as the tears came and blinded her eyes and choked her utterance. <br><br> "Take me to her!" hurriedly said Lord Kilderm. And she led him to the room where Nora Chreeman lay dying, and, softly shutting the door, left them alond. Audley Kilderm crossed the room to meet Nora Chreeman's blue eyes, the blue eyes he loved so well, and, as he looked into them his heart gave a great throb, for he knew at last that Nora Chreeman loved him. He forgot that the knowledge of that love would never do him any good; forgot that she would never carol Irish melodies for him again; forgot everything except his own great love, and that his love was returned; he clasped her unresistingly to his heart. <br><br> She closed her eyes wearily as a tired child who had found rest, and a look of peace came over her face while she smiled up into his eyes. "My darling, my darling!" he murmured, and for a moment Nora Chreeman wished she had never sent him way from her; but she put the thought resolutely away, for she knew it was best as it was, best she should die, although it was so hard, just as she had found her one great joy. <br><br> At last Lord Kilderm remembered she would never be aught to him in this world, and he buried his head in his arms and sobbed like a child. "No, Audley," and Nora lifted his head and smoothed back his hair with her wan little hands, "it is better so. I never could have lived and been your wife, knowing your parents' wishes. I thought I could get over my love after awhile, but I was never very strong, and one day I caught a heavy cold, and I never seemed to get my strength back after that. But, love, we will meet over there, where all is right. Kiss me, Audley, once more, I am so weary." <br><br> And as Lord Kilderm pressed one last lingering kiss upon the dewy lips, Nora Chreeman's head drooped on his shoulder, and she was at rest. The Countess of Kilderm wondered what kept her son, Lord Audley, abroad so long-wondered why he could not come home and settle down as he should do, and impatiently tapped her dainty, slippered foot as she thought of her son's waywardness. He had been traveling for the past two years, writing home occasionally, but never saying a word of return. She often wondered what made him go off on such an extended tour, so very suddenly. If he would only come home now, at once, all might yet be well. <br><br> Lady Laura had never married and everything might yet turn out as she had hoped it would two years ago, before Lord Kilderm took that absurd and unnecessary trip abroad, and- The door opened quickly and her long-absent son crossed the room and tenderly kissed her. She looked at him fondly, for, in spite of her worldliness, the Countess of Kilderm was very fond of her son. Lord Kilderm was welcomed by society with open arms as one of the best catches of the season. He soon fell into his old way; but he was never quite the same man again. He met Lady Laura many times in society, and at last the marriage upon which his mother's heart was fixed took place. Although Lord Kilderm has now one of the most beautiful wives in England, who is good as well as beautiful, his thoughts often wander to Irish hills, and he sees two Irish blue eyes, and hears a sweet Irish voice caroling songs for him.-Waverley. |