Castle Mahun was the sort of old place which can be met in many parts of Ireland. It consisted of almost innumerable acres of land, some cultivated, some wild and barren, and of a large, rambling, and, in parts, tumble-down house. Castle Mahun stood on rising ground which faced due west. The ground was beautifully shaped, with many gentle undulations and many steep and bold descents. It was thickly wooded, and some of these forests of almost primeval trees sloped down to the edge of a deep, wide lake of nearly two miles in length and half a mile in width. This lake was the pride of Castle Mahun. In sunshiny weather it looked blue as the sea itself; in winter its waters became dark and turbid, the high waves tossed them and made themselves at times as angry as if they were really influenced by the many currents and the tides of ocean. The lake had two names. The owners of the property called it Lake Crena, but the poor people—and they abounded all over the lands of Castle Mahun—spoke of it as the Witch's Cauldron, and said that although it was fair enough, and pleasant enough to live by in summer, in winter it was haunted by a black witch, and woe betide anyone who attempted to boat on its surface or fish in its waters at that time of year.

The Castle, or rather old house—for it bore little pretensions to its name—hung partly over the lake. There were sloping lawns, badly tended, but very picturesque in appearance, running down to the waters, and a steep path, about three feet in width, with a sheer precipice at one side, and a thick, heavy belt of forest trees at the other, running right round the lake from one side of the old house.

This was called the terrace walk, and it was here Dennis O'Hara took his evening promenade, accompanied by the dogs.

He was a handsome, picturesque looking man, with silvery white hair, very piercing dark eyes, and aquiline features. He had a stentorian voice, which he used to good effect on all those who came within his reach; but he had also a kindly twinkle in those dark eyes, and a kindly expression round his handsome, well-cut lips, which kept the poor folks at Castle Mahun from fearing the master's indignant bursts of strong language, and which made him one of the most popular landlords all over the country.

To-night there was great excitement at Castle Mahun, for the banished princess, as the people chose to consider Bridget O'Hara, was coming home from foreign parts. Bonfires were lit all along the hills in her welcome. O'Hara had not gone himself to the nearest railway station, twenty miles off, to meet his daughter, but he knew by the thin smoke on a distant peak that the jaunting car, drawn by faithful Paddy, his favorite chestnut horse, and driven by Larry O'Connor, was bearing his darling back to him as quickly as the ill-kept roads would permit.

"She's coming, masther," shouted a ragged little urchin, dashing up to the squire, and then rushing frantically away again; "the first fire's built, and me and Molly can see the smoke. Oh, come along, Molly! and let's run down the road to ketch a sight of her. Oh, glory! the darlint! and won't we be glad to have her back again."

The child disappeared. There were some more wild shouts in the distance; a troop of children, all ragged and bronzed and barefooted, were seen rushing down the avenue, and then disappearing along the dusty road. They carried branches of trees and old kettledrums, and made a frantic noise as they ran in the direction which the jaunting car would take.

"Ah! here they are!" exclaimed Lady Kathleen from her seat on the car. "Here are your villagers, Bridget, rushing to welcome you. And do you see those fires lit in your honor? Watch the hills, child. There's a fire on every hilltop. Now you'll be yourself again."

Bridget's eyes were shining like stars. She turned and gripped Lady Kathleen's hand with a fierce embrace.

"I feel nearly mad with delight!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I say, Larry, do drive faster. Gee-up, Paddy! Gee-up, old dear! Don't you think I might take the reins, Larry? You can get down from your seat on the box, and sit here to balance Aunt Kathleen, and let me jump up and take the reins."

"To be sure, miss," said Larry. He sprang lightly from his seat, and Biddy, notwithstanding Lady Kathleen's bursts of laughter and futile objections, took the seat of honor, and with a light, smart touch of the whip sent Paddy spinning at a fine rate over the roads.

"Hurrah!" she shouted when she came in sight of the motley crowd. "Here I am back again, and driving Paddy as if I'd never set foot off Irish soil. Welcome to you all! Good-evening, Dan; how's your lame foot? Good-evening Molly, acushla macree. Good-evening, good-evening, Jane and Susan and Norah. Now, then, let me drive quickly. I must get to my daddy before I touch the hands of one of you."

Bridget stood up on the driving seat, tightened the reins with energy, gave Paddy another well-aimed delicate stroke just where it would quicken his movements without irritating either his skin or his temper, and the laughing, shouting, joking cavalcade—for the children and the men and women were rushing after the car, and some of them even clinging on to it—turned in at the gates, and up the steep avenue which led to the Castle.

"Now, then; three cheers for the old home! Let every one of us shout with a will!" exclaimed Bridget. "Oh, it is nice to be back again."

"You'll frighten the horse, Biddy!" exclaimed Lady Kathleen. "I do think you have taken leave of your senses, child. Oh, don't set them off shouting; Paddy really won't stand it; and at this steep part, too!"

"Paddy is Irish," said Bridget, with some contempt. "He knows what an Irish shout is worth. Now, then! Three cheers—Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!"

Bridget held the reins with one hand, the other was waved high in the air. She looked like a radiant, victorious young figure standing so, with the crowd of welcoming, delighted faces surrounding her. Her traveling hat had long ago disappeared, and her chestnut curls were tumbling about her face and shoulders.

"Hip, hip, hurrah!" she shouted again. "Three cheers for the Castle! Three cheers for the master! Three cheers for the dogs! Three cheers for old Ireland! and three cheers for the boys and girls who live at Castle Mahun!"

Frantic yells responded to Bridget's eager words. These were intermingled by the yelping and barking of about a dozen dogs, who rushed on the scene, and jumped all over Bridget in their ecstasy, nearly dragging her from her eminence on the car.

"Take the reins, Larry!" she exclaimed, tossing them to her satellite. "Now then, do get out of the way, Bruin! Clear out, Mustard, my pet, or I'll tread on you. Now then for a spring!"

She vaulted lightly to the ground, and the next instant was in the arms of her white-headed old father.

"Eh, my colleen, my colleen," he murmured. He pressed her to his heart; a dimness came over his eyes for a minute; his big, wrinkled hand touched her sunny forehead tenderly. "You have come back," he said. "I have had a fine share of the heart-hunger without you, my girleen."

Bridget laid her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, daddy," she exclaimed, in a sort of choked voice, "it is too good to feel your arms about me again; I am too happy."

"Don't you want to see Minerva's pups, miss?" asked the small and rather officious little ragged girl called Molly.

"Yes, to be sure. And she has had four, the darling; the dear, noble pet. Do take me to the litter at once, won't you, father?"

The mention of Minerva and her progeny was so intensely exciting that even sentiment was put aside, and the Squire, Biddy, Lady Kathleen, and all the retainers went in a motley procession to the stables, where the little red-tipped pups were huddled together, and the proud Minerva was waiting to show off their many beauties.

Biddy made several appropriate observations; not a point about the four little dogs was lost upon her. She and her father grew almost solemn in the earnestness with which they discussed the virtues and charms of the baby pups.

Minerva was petted and praised; hunger and fatigue were alike forgotten in the exciting and delicious task of examining the valuable puppies. Bridget knelt on the ground, regardless of her pretty and expensive traveling dress. A pup's short, expressive nose rubbed her cool cheek, Minerva's head lay on her knee; the animal's beautiful, expressive eyes were raised to hers, full of maternal pride and melting love. Another little pup lay on the Squire's big palm, a third nestled on Biddy's shoulder; a fourth tried to yelp feebly as it was huddled up in Molly's ragged apron.

Lady Kathleen stood over the group of adorers laughing and ejaculating. Somebody screamed in the distance that supper was ready, and that a feast was waiting in the kitchen for all the retainers in honor of Miss Bridget's return.

There was a scamper at this; even Molly put the cherished pup back into its basket, and Bridget, her father, and aunt entered the house arm in arm.