Janet enjoyed the feeling that Bridget was now in her power. She had something of the cat nature, and she liked to torture this very fine and rare specimen of mouse which she had unexpectedly caught. She was so clever, however, that no one suspected her of anything but the heartiest friendship for Bridget. Even the squire, whose eyes were more or less opened by Evelyn's talk, and who watched Janet now with intense scrutiny, could see nothing to object to in her.

"It is a pity that other nice colleen should have those jealous thoughts," he said to himself; "that little Miss May is as nice and good-hearted a bit of a thing as I have come across for many a day. I can see by the very way she walks, and eats, and looks, that she's just devoted to Biddy; and, for the matter of that, who can wonder, for everybody likes my colleen."

The weather was very beautiful just now, and the young people spent almost all their time in the open air. Bridget, who had avoided the society of the other young folks yesterday, seemed quite to have recovered her good spirits to-day, and merry laughter made the beautiful old place seem more gay and cheerful than ever. Patrick, however, and Gerald, for some reason or other, as the day advanced, did not look quite at ease. Supper was at eight at Castle Mahun, and it was arranged that immediately after that meal the boys should row Janet over to the island and leave her there. The secret was to be revealed to no one, but for some reason it did not give them the complete satisfaction it had done yesterday.

They were kind-hearted lads, and although they had plenty of mischief in their composition, would not willingly hurt anyone. They were as superstitious as Irish lads could be, and as the fateful hour approached Patrick called his younger brother aside.

"Have you anchored the boat quite snug under the big willow," he asked, "where Uncle Dennis won't get a glimpse of it? He'd be sure to be mad if he thought we were going on Lake Crena to-night."

"And why to-night," asked Gerald, "more than any other night? The lake is as safe a place as your bed, except from September to March. Why shouldn't we have a row on Lake Crena to-night, Pat?"

"For the best of good reasons," said Pat. "The full moon is just beginning to wane to-night; that is the only night in the month when the Witch gets restless. I am sorry, for my part, that I asked Miss May to go to the island. I made sure, of course, that she'd funk it when it came to the point; I never guessed that she'd go on with it. Whatever she is, she's plucky; I'll say that for her."

"I don't see that she's so plucky," retorted Gerry; "she doesn't believe in the Witch, you know—she laughs when we speak about her."

"But suppose—suppose she—she sees her," said Patrick, his big black eyes growing full of gloom, and even fear. "Gerry, I'd never forgive myself if I did such a dastardly thing as to give a poor girl like that a real fright."

Gerald looked reflective.

"I don't think the Witch walks about until past eleven," he said, "and why shouldn't we go back for Janet at eleven? She'll have spent two hours on the island then, and will be quite satisfied with herself."

"Yes, that's all very fine, and then she'll boast to the end of her days that we haven't got a witch."

"Well, even that is better than to give her such a rousing fright that she'll be deprived of her senses. There's the supper gong, Pat; we must go into the house. Uncle Dennis will suspect something if we are not tucking-in as hard as possible in a minute or two from now."

"I can't help it, I am too anxious to eat," said Pat. "I wish I hadn't thought of the thing. Of course, I see we must go through with it now; she'd brag all her days that we had only pretended about the Witch if we didn't. But I vow I'll—I'll stay somewhere near and—and watch—I vow I will. Come along into the house, Gerry, and keep your own counsel, if you can; you have such a way of getting your face full of your thoughts that people can almost read them."

"If there is roley-poley pudding for supper," said Gerry, "I'll get my thoughts packed full of that, and my face too. The roley-poley pudding expression is innocent enough, isn't it?"

Pat gave his brother a playful cuff on the ear, and they went into the house together.

Janet was seated near Lady Kathleen. Her face was absolutely tranquil. So unconcerned and serene was its expression that Gerry, as he passed her chair, could not forbear bending forward and whispering in her ear:

"I guess you're funking it."

Janet's blue-gray eyes looked calmly up at him.

"I have nothing to funk," she replied, in the same low tone.

The squire shouted to Gerald to take his seat, and the meal proceeded.

Very soon after supper Gerald and Patrick disappeared. They ran down a shady walk, and soon reached the old willow tree under which the boat was moored.

"She'll funk it for sure and certain," said Gerry again.

"No, that's not her," replied Patrick; "and, hark! do you hear her footstep? Here she comes! For my part, I wish we were well out of this."

"There's no help for it now," retorted Gerald; "she'd laugh at us all our born days if we didn't go on with it. Well, Miss May, and so your ladyship is pleased to accept our escort to the Witch's Island."

Gerry made a low bow as he spoke, and pulling off his somewhat tattered straw hat, touched the ground with it ere he replaced it on the back of his curly head.

Janet was seen leisurely approaching. She carried a little white shawl over her arm, and a yellow-backed novel in her other hand.

"I say," exclaimed Patrick, coming up to her, "you don't mean to tell me you are going to read?"

"And why not?" replied Janet; "it would be rather dull work sitting for three hours in that island doing nothing. See what I have also brought—a box of matches and a piece of candle. You say there's a little old summerhouse there—in that summerhouse I'll sit and read 'Pretty Miss Neville.' I assure you, boys, the time will pass very quickly and agreeably."

"You have some spunk in you," said Patrick, in a tone of genuine admiration. His black eyes flashed fire with the admiration he felt for the slim pale girl who was brave enough to despise the superstitious terrors which overmastered himself.

There was no horse in the country round about that Patrick O'Mahony would not have mounted; the most terrible danger could not have daunted his spirit. His physical courage had never known the point where fear could conquer it; but he owned to himself that he would have shrunk in abject terror from the very simple feat of sitting for three hours alone in the Witch's Island.

"If you'd like to get out of it," he said suddenly, "Gerry and I will never tell—will we, Gerry?"

"No, truth and honor!" replied Gerald.

"You see you have proved your pluck," continued Patrick. "It would be awfully dull for you staying for three hours alone on the island."

"Not at all, I assure you," replied Janet; "I have my book and my candle. Help me into the boat, please, gentlemen, or I shall begin to think you are a fine pair of little humbugs."

"Oh, if that is your way of putting it," said Patrick, his quick temper easily roused, "we had better start at once. Come along, Gerry; help me to unmoor the boat. Now, Miss Janet, jump in, if you please."

Five minutes later, Janet May found herself alone on the tiny patch of ground which went by the name of the Witch's Island.

It consisted of a thickly wooded piece of land rising up in the very center of Lake Crena, and about three-quarters of an acre in size. There was a little landing-place where some of the thick trees had been cleared away. Here, high and dry, and well out of reach of the water, stood a rude summerhouse. Janet waited alone on the little strip of quay until the boat, turning a tiny headland, was lost to view; then she went into the summerhouse, and lighting her candle sat down on a broken-down bench, placed the candle securely on a small stone slab by her side, and opening her novel began to read. The courage she had shown was not in the least assumed. This enterprise simply amused her; she expected to find the time dull—dullness was the worst enemy that could possibly visit her.

"Pretty Miss Neville," however, was quite to her taste, and turning its leaves quickly, she soon lost herself in a world far away from the Witch's Island, and much more in harmony with her own ambitious and eager spirit. She, too, would win her triumphs, and have her lovers in the not too distant future. Oh, how splendidly she had managed everything! How nice it was to have a girl like Bridget O'Hara completely in her power! Janet's thoughts after all proved more delightful than her book. She closed it, and coming out of the little stuffy summerhouse stood on the tiny quay and looked around her. The moon was getting up slowly, and was shedding silver paths of shimmery light over beautiful Lake Crena. The scene was so lovely, so exquisitely soothing and peaceful, that a girl with a different order of mind might have felt her thoughts rise as she looked at that moonlight path, and some aspirations for the good, the true, the noble, might have filled her breast. Janet was not without imagination as she looked at that long silver path which stretched away from her very feet onward to the distant horizon, but it only brought to her visions of Paris and Lady Kathleen, and what she would do to aggrandize herself in the delightful future which was so near.

Her meditations were suddenly disturbed by a slight noise to her right.

She looked around her carelessly. "Can the Witch be coming?" she said, with a slight laugh.

At that moment the great clock in the stable at Castle Mahun struck ten; the deep notes swelled and died away on the evening breeze.

"That noise can't be caused by the Witch," thought Janet, "for the boys say that she seldom deigns to put in an appearance before eleven o'clock; oh, dear! oh, dear! have I two more hours to spend on this detestable spot? When will they have passed away? What shall I do to kill time? I had better go back and go on with my book." She was about to re-enter the little summerhouse when the distinct splash of an oar on the water reached her ears.

She could not help giving a start, and then exclaimed with a sigh of relief:

"Is that you, Pat? But you need not come back yet. I assure you I am thoroughly comfortable. I am waiting in state for her majesty Mrs. Witch to visit me."

There was no reply whatever to Janet's gay sally. She entered the summerhouse and, rearranging her candle, opened her book, and went on reading.

Again there was a sound on the island; this time it was the cracking of a bough.

"A bird or a rabbit, or some small inoffensive creature of that sort," murmured the girl; but, for the first time, her heart beat a little more quickly.

"It is absurd," she said to herself. "One would absolutely suppose, to look at me now, that I gave credence to the boys' ridiculous tales. Well, this is a very dull escapade at best, and catch me going in for anything of the kind again. I must make the best of it now, however."

She turned another page of her book, found that the plot was thickening and the situation becoming more exciting, and forgot herself in Miss Neville's sorrows.

She was soon startled back to consciousness of present things, however. She not only heard another bough crack, and a low, thick shrub rustle, but she also distinguished a sure and unmistakable "Whist! whist!" in a man's deep tones. It was plain, therefore, that she was not alone on the island. Even now she was not afraid of the witch; but she had a very substantial fear of human foes, and she already guessed that more than one of Bridget's lawless friends would be quite capable of doing her an ill turn.

With a sudden feeling of satisfaction she remembered that she had a dog-whistle fastened to her watch-chain. If she blew a shrill blast with the whistle it would frighten any concealed enemies away, and bring the boys quickly to her rescue.

She stepped out of the hut, therefore, and put the whistle to her lips.

"No, none of that!" said a voice. "You'll come with me, miss, and the fewer questions you axes the better."

A rough man of powerful build, with a piece of crape tied across his eyes, rushed suddenly forward in the moonlight. He drew a thick cloth over the girl's head and shoulders, a pair of strong arms encircled her waist; she found herself lifted from the ground, and knew that she was being carried rapidly away.