Enough for watering Eden, obviously
She had not thought about his love at all.
The cataracts of her soul had poured themselves,
And risen self-crown’d in rainbow; would she ask
Who crown’d her?—it sufficed that she was crown’d.
E. B. Browning.
Redmond Hall was a curious old house; it had been built originally in Gothic style, but an aspiring Redmond, who was ignorant of the laws of architecture and not possessed with the spirit of uniformity, had thrown out windows and added wings that savored strongly of the Tudor style, while here and there a buttress or arch was decidedly Norman in its tendency.
To a connoisseur this medley of architecture was a great eye-sore, but to the world in general the very irregularity of the gray old pile added to its picturesque entirety, and somehow the effect was very pleasing.
The various owners of the Hall, holding all modern innovations in abhorrence, had preserved its antiquity as far as possible by restoring the old carvings and frescoes that were its chief ornaments. The entrance-hall was of noble dimensions, with a painted ceiling, and a great fire-place surrounded by oaken carvings of fruit and flowers, the work of Gibbon, with the Redmond motto, “Fideles ad urnam,” in the center.
The walls were adorned with stags’ antlers, and other trophies of the chase, while implements of warfare, from the bow and arrow to the modern revolver, were arranged in geometrical circles round the battered suits of armor.