“I have given you your bearings; that ought to be enough for you. Good-night, once more.” And with this the honest-hearted lieutenant threw his boat-cloak around him, and sallied forth to the door, before which a chaise was in waiting to convey him to Dublin.
As for Roland, his agitated and excited mind banished all desire for sleep, and he wandered out upon the beach, where, resolving many a good intention for the future, he walked to and fro till day was breaking.
CHAPTER XXX. MISS LEICESTER'S DREAM AND ITS FULFILMENT
Old walls have mouths as well as ears.
The Convent: a Play.
To us of the present day, who see what Genii are guineas, fairy tales are mere allegories. Your true sorcerer is a credit “on Coutts,” and anything may be esteemed within his power who reckons by tens of thousands.
Tom Linton was experimenting on this problem somewhat largely at Tubbermore, where the old, misshapen, ugly house had undergone such a series of transformations inside and out that the oldest inhabitant might have failed to recognize it. Roman cement and stucco—those cosmetics of architecture—had given to the front a most plausible air; and what with a great flagged terrace beneath and a balustrade parapet above, the whole had put on a wonderful look of solidity and importance. French windows and plate-glass, stuccoed architraves and richly traceried balconies, from which access was had to various terraces and flower-plats, contributed an appearance of lightness to the building; and what was lost in architectural elegance, was fully recompensed by convenience and facility of enjoyment.
Within, the arrangements were excellent, and, as regarded the object in view, perfect; various suites of apartments, so separated as to be actually like residences, abounded throughout, so that the guests might either indulge their solitude undisturbed, or mix in the wide circle of the general company. For the latter, a magnificent suite of rooms led along the entire basement story. Here, considering the shortness of the time and the difficulties encountered, Linton's skill was pre-eminently distinguished. Painting was too slow a process for such an emergency, and accordingly the walls were hung with rich silks and stuffs from the looms of Lyons, draped in a hundred graceful fashions, while the floors, laid down in the rough, were concealed by the massive texture of Persian carpets, the most costly ever brought to this country. The air of comfort and “livableness”—if we may coin a word—depicted on every side, took away the reproach of ostentatious splendor, which perhaps might have been applied to rich decorations and gorgeous details in a mere country house. And this was managed with no mean skill; and he must have been a stern critic who could have canvassed too rigidly the merit of appliances so manifestly provided for his own enjoyment. Books and pictures—the Penates of domesticity—were there, and everything possible was done to give a semblance of long habitation to that which but a few weeks back had been a dreary ruin.
A critical eye might have detected in many instances the evidences of a more refined taste than Mr. Linton's, and so was it Miss Leicester had frequently aided him by her advice and suggestions, and every day, when the weather permitted, saw old Mr. Corrigan and his granddaughter repair to Tubbermore, whose progress they watched with a degree of interest only felt by those whose retirement admits few sources of amusement There was a secret cause of pride, too, in seeing the old residence of the family—marred as had been its proportions by frequent and tasteless additions—resume something of its once grandeur. Mary, whose earliest lessons in infancy had been the tales of her powerful ancestors, who lorded over an almost princely tract, entered heart and soul into a course which favored so many of fancy's pleasantest fictions. Her greatest delight, however, was in the restoration of one part of the building, which all former innovators had apparently despaired of, and left as a species of storehouse for every kind of lumber. This was a great square tower, with an adjoining chapel, the floor of which was formed by the tombstones of her earliest ancestors. One compartment of a stained-glass window showed “the helmet and torch,” the arms of the O'Regans, from which the family, by a corruption, took the name of Corrigan; and various other mementos abounded to prove the high station they had once supported.
Strongly imbued with a knowledge of the tales and customs of the period, Mary restored the chapel to all the emblazoned splendor of the sixteenth century. The rich carvings that modern research has discovered and carried away from the châteaux of the Low Countries were adapted to the place, and speedily the interior put on an air of highly preserved and cherished antiquity.