It Was So Unexpected, So Splendidly Beautiful, It
Surpassed A Dream Of Fairy-Land.
We passed on, saw a shadowy lady among
the flowers on the lawn, knew it was the wraith of the unhappy and
guilty Dearvorgill.
Stole out of the farther gate - at least I did -
feeling naughty and intrusive. Found ourselves in the clean little town
of Drumahaire, a pretty little village, straggled over a hillside among
the trees.
Went into a shop to enquire for the veritable Brefni Castle. A sad and
hungry-looking man scenting a possible sixpence started forward as
guide. He piloted us back by the way we came into the ruins we had
passed. Was determined to see visions and dream dreams amid these
historical ruins. Alas, it was a disgraceful failure. Not only was the
back of the modern tyrannical cottage laid up against the tyrannical
castle of history, but the ancient and modern were dovetailed into one
another, trying to bewilder you as to where ancient history and legend
ended, and modern anecdote began. We looked into the great hall with its
deep fire-place at the side, and upwards where another stately apartment
had once been, a lofty presence room over the great hall, but the week's
wash of the La Touches was flapping in the wind that moaned through the
deserted halls of the O'Ruarke. Looked into a tower to find a peat
stack, climbed over a load of coal to see the withdrawing room of the
departed, but not forgotten great lady, or the kitchen that cooked for
the men-at-arms, who waited on the lord's behest.
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