“That is the ruined castle of Dunluce. It belonged to the Antrim family.”
“Good heavens! what a dreary region it all is!” cried he, interrupting. “I declare to you, South Africa is a garden compared to this.”
“Oh, Mark, for shame!” said his elder sister. “The kingdom has nothing grander than this coast-line from Portrush to Fairhead.”
“I 'm no judge of its grandeur, but I tell you one thing,—I 'd not live here,—no, nor would I contract to live six months in a year here,—to have the whole estate. This is a fine day, I take it.”
“It is a glorious day,” said Bella.
“Well, it's just as much as we can do to keep our legs here; and certainly your flattened bonnets and dishevelled hair are no allies to your good looks.”
“Our looks are not in question,” said the elder, tartly. “We were talking of the scenery; and I defy you to tell me where, in all your travels, you have seen its equal.”
“I 'll tell you one thing, Alice, it's deuced dear at the price we are looking at it; I mean, at the cost of this precious bit of road we stand on. Where did the governor get his engineer?”
“It was Tony planned this,—every yard of it,” said Bella, proudly.
“And who is Tony, pray?” said he, superciliously.