Every year, on the 1st of May, just as the
sun is rising, he rides across the lake on his beautiful white horse.
He is not always seen, but sometimes a few can see him. And it always
brings good luck to see O'Donoghue riding across the lake on May
morning. And I saw him."
Again there was a pause, but she had no look of dreaming now. Her eyes
were open and she seemed to be looking at something wonderful and
beautiful that was far off. Slowly and softly she began speaking
again. "I was a girl then. My father lived by the Lakes of Killarney.
On that May morning I was standing at the door as the sun was rising.
I was looking out upon the lake, far away to the east. The first that
I saw was that the water, far off toward the sun, was ruffled, and
then all at once a great, white-crested wave rose, as if a strong wind
had struck the water, only all the air was still, and no wind ever
raises such a wave as that on the lake. The wave came swiftly toward
me, and I drew back, in a kind of dread, though I knew that it could
not reach me where I stood.
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