Bashful Fifteen by L.T. Meade — Read

Castle Mahun was the sort of old place which can be met in many parts of Ireland. It consisted of almost innumerable acres of land, some cultivated, some wild and barren, and of a large, rambling, and, in parts, tumble-down house. Castle Mahun stood on rising ground which faced due west. The ground was beautifully shaped, with many gentle undulations and many steep and bold descents. It was thickly wooded, and some of these forests of almost primeval trees sloped down to the edge of a deep, wide lake of nearly two miles in length and half a mile in width. This lake was the pride of Castle Mahun. In sunshiny weather it looked blue as the sea itself; in winter its waters became dark and turbid, the high waves tossed them and made themselves at times as angry as if they were really influenced by the many currents and the tides of ocean. The lake had two names. The owners of the property called it Lake Crena, but the poor people -- and they abounded all over the lands of Castle Mahun -- spoke of it as the Witch's Cauldron, and said that although it was fair enough, and pleasant enough to live by in summer, in winter it was haunted by a black witch, and woe betide anyone who attempted to boat on its surface or fish in its waters at that time of year.

The Castle, or rather old house -- for it bore little pretensions to its name -- hung partly over the lake. There were sloping lawns, badly tended, but very picturesque in appearance, running down to the waters, and a steep path, about three feet in width, with a sheer precipice at one side, and a thick, heavy belt of forest trees at the other, running right round the lake from one side of the old house.