Part 7 (1/2)

The stone walls were now in ruins. They were overgrown with moss and ivy. But hundreds and hundreds of years ago it was a great stronghold of Ireland's bravest warriors.

The chief of them all was the daring O'Donaghue. Even now he cannot rest easy in his grave. Every seven years he rises up, and, mounting a white horse, rides around Ross Castle. And as he rides every stone goes back into its old place, and the castle is once more as strong and grand as in its best days.

But this is only for the one night. When the sun s.h.i.+nes the next morning, a heap of ruins is standing there, where the owls and bats may keep house in comfort.

”How I should like to see the knight on his white horse!” said Norah.

”Yes, but I should be afraid, I'm sure,” said Mollie. ”After all, the day is the best time to be outdoors, and my bed at home is the safest place after dark.”

When the lunch was eaten, the whole party crossed a bridge that spanned the water to Ross Island. The children played games over the smooth lawns, picked flowers, and told fairy stories.

Then Mollie's brother rowed the girls out on the lake. Many a time he rested on his oars while the children called out and then listened for the echo to answer them.

”There it is, hark!” said Tim.

A party of travellers came rowing toward them. They had hired an Irish piper to go with them. As he played a slow tune, the answer came back.

Tim whistled, and the echo repeated it. Then Norah sang the first line of ”Come Back to Erin,” and the echo sang it back again.

But the afternoon was going fast, and the children could now hear Mollie's father calling to them from the sh.o.r.e. They must get back to land as soon as possible.

When they reached the car, they jumped in, and all started at once for Muckross Abbey, at the other end of the lake.

It had once been a great place of learning, but it was now in ruins. Ah!

but such beautiful ruins, covered with mosses and creeping vines. How the ivy seemed to love the old stone walls!

Some of Ireland's greatest men were buried here. Poets and soldiers and wise men lie in their tombs. Norah and Mollie stepped softly and spoke in low tones as they walked among them, half-buried in moss and ivy.

But they did not linger long. They loved the suns.h.i.+ne and the brightness outside, and were glad to get back to them.

They took their places in the jaunting-car once more, and started on their homeward way.

As they drove along, they pa.s.sed the grand home of a rich Englishman. A long and fine driveway led up to it from the road. It was almost hidden in a lovely grove.

Just as they drew near, a party of hors.e.m.e.n pa.s.sed them and turned into the driveway, blowing their horns. They had been out hunting and were now returning.

”Arrah! they have a jolly life,” said Mollie's mother. ”Hunting and fis.h.i.+ng and feasting. That is the way they pa.s.s their days. But, glory be to G.o.d, I have my husband and childer and our little farm, and I am content.”

She might have said, also:

”I live in the most beautiful part of beautiful Ireland. I can look to my heart's content at the lovely hills and lakes, the fields filled with flowers, and the cascades rippling down the mountainsides.”

Yes, let glory be to G.o.d that the poor can enjoy these blessings, and it costs them nothing.

CHAPTER VI.

HALLOWE'EN