" cried Pixie wildly, pinching Mademoiselle's arm in her
excitement. "It's illumined! Oh, Bridgie, Bridgie, did I ever see!
Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, did ye ever have a castle illumined for you
before? Did they ever give you such a welcome in your own country?"

"Never, never!" cried Mademoiselle. She was almost as excited as Pixie
herself, craning forward to peer out of the windows, counting
breathlessly the long line of lights, and reflecting that she had not
sufficiently realised the grandeur of the household, to which she was
coming. Another moment and a still brighter light shone through an
opened doorway, and a chorus of voices sang out welcome. Then the fly
stopped, someone helped her to alight, a hand clasped hers
affectionately, and a rich, soft voice spoke in her ears.

"Are you destroyed? The journey you've been having, poor creatures, in
the wind and the rain! Are you destroyed altogether?"

This was Castle Knock indeed, and Bridgie O'Shaughnessy's fair face
beamed a welcome upon her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

KNOCK CASTLE ONCE MORE.

Mademoiselle was so exhausted that she begged to retire at once, and was
forthwith escorted to a huge cavern of a room, which boasted tapestried
walls, an oaken ceiling, and a four-poster bed large enough to have
accommodated the whole fifth-form at a pinch. It looked cheery enough,
however, in the light of a great peat fire, and the visitor was feeling
so unwell after her stormy crossing that her one overpowering desire was
to lay her head upon the pillows, and revel in the consciousness that
her journeyings were at an end. Her tact suggested also that this
affectionate family would be glad to have their baby to themselves for
the first meeting; but when she woke up refreshed and vigorous the
following morning, she was full of eagerness to get downstairs, and make
the acquaintance of the O'Shaughnessys in their own home. The night
before she had been so faint and dazed that she had gone automatically
through the various introductions, and as the lights inside the rooms
were by no means as bright as those at the windows, even the very faces
seemed seen through a mist. But Bridget had mentioned eight o'clock as
the breakfast-hour, so Mademoiselle leaped out of bed, and, wondering a
little why no one appeared to bring tea, hot water, or a bath, made the
best work of her toilet which was possible under the circumstances.

Truth to tell, the room did not appear so