Author: Julia Kavanagh

Publisher:

Published: 2015-07-08

Total Pages: 310

ISBN-13: 9781330969755

Excerpt from Dora The autumn wind swept with a long wail over the broad bay of Dublin, then went and died, still moaning, and lamenting, amongst the distant mountains. In its occasional intervals of silence, gusts of rain came and beat against the window-panes with a pitiful, impatient sound, as if claiming to be heard, till the clamorous wind rose again and drowned every voice save its own tempestuous roar. Dusk was gathering in Mrs. Courtenay's bare parlor, and very chill and cheerless as well as bare it would have looked on this evening, if Dora Courtenay had not been standing by the window with her work hanging loosely in her hand, and her eyes fastened on the prospect of sea and mist and cloudy mountains, which was all that she could see through the slanting rain. Mrs. Courtenay's parlor was, as we said, a very bare one. The chairs, the table, the black hearth, the low ceiling, sadly in need of whitewash, the dull grey paper on the walls, gave it a desolate look: but you forgot that when you saw Dora. No room with a sunbeam, or a Titian, or a Giorgione in it would seem cold and desolate to you were it a garret; and no room in which this girl appeared could fail being brightened by her gay young presence. She was not beautiful, she was not handsome, she was not even very pretty - but she was bright, wonderfully bright. If there were such a thing as brown gold, Dora's hair might be said to be of that color. If roses ever bloomed on a maiden's cheek, they were to be found on hers. If joy ever beamed in mortal eyes, it surely shone in Dora's. When you looked at her you forgot her half-shabby black dress, her mother's cold parlor - you forgot even that Dora was young, and had a charming figure - you forgot all save the shining hair and the happy eyes, and the genial smile and the young warm voice which matched with them so well; and these you remembered for evermore. "I can't stand this, you know," suddenly said Dora, flinging down her work; "I must see if Paul is coming." Mrs. Courtenay, who was gently falling asleep in her arm-chair, awoke with a start: but before her remonstrative, "Don't get wet," was fairly uttered, the bright head and the brighter face of Dora had passed through the parlor door, and the parlor itself looked very much like a cellar whence a sunbeam has departed. "She is so quick," said Mrs. Courtenay, still amazed and a little plaintive. "I always do feel for hens who hatch ducks' eggs." This remark was directed to her sister-in-law, Mrs. Luan. Very different of aspect were these two ladies. Mrs. Courtenay was a charming lady of sixty. She had the whitest hair, the mildest blue eyes, the pleasanter smile, and the softest plump hands a lady of sixty ever had. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.