r,"
and with that he led the young man outside the door of the stable, and
whispered for some minutes, with the greatest earnestness, concluding in
a voice loud enough to be heard by Kerry--

"And after that, I'm sure I need say no more."

Mark made no answer, but leaned his back against the wall, and folded
his arms upon his breast.

"May I never if it is not the whole truth," said Lanty, with a most
eager and impassioned gesture; "and now I leave it all to yourself."

"Is he to take the mare?" asked Kerry, in anxious dread lest his enemy
might have carried the day.

"Yes," was the reply, in a deep hollow voice, as the speaker turned away
and left the stable.

While Lanty was engaged in placing his saddle on his new purchase, an
operation in which Kerry contrived not to afford him any assistance
whatever, Mark O'Donoghue paced slowly to and fro in the courtyard, with
his arms folded, and his head sunk upon his breast; nor was he aroused
from his reverie until the step of the horse was heard on the pavement
beside him.

"Poor Kittane," said he, looking up suddenly, "you were a great pet: I
hope they'll be as kind to you as I was; and they'd better, too," added
he, half-savagely, "for you've a drop of the Celt in your blood, and can
revenge harsh treatment when you meet with it. Tell her owner that she
is all gentleness, if not abused, but get her temper once up, and, by
Jove, there's not a torrent on the mountain can leap as madly! She knows
her name, too: I trust they'll not change that. She was bred beside
Lough Kittane, and called after it. See how she can follow;" and with
that, the youth sprang forward, and placing his hand on the top bar of a
gate, vaulted lightly over; but scarcely had he reached the ground,
when the mare bounded after him, and stood with her head resting on his
shoulder.

Mark turned an elated look on the others, and then surveyed the
noble animal beside him with all the pride and admiration of a master
regarding his handiwork. She was, indeed, a model of symmetry, and well
worthy of all the praise bestowed on her.

For a moment or two the youth gazed on her, with a flashing eye and
quivering lip, while the mare, catching excitement from the free air of
the morning, and the spring she had made, stood with swelled veins and
trembling limbs, his counterpart in eagerness. One spirit seemed to
animate both. So Mark appeared to feel it, as with a bound he sprung
into the saddle, and with