A detached portion of the ruins sitting on a rock overlooked
both us and the river. Was it in any part of this building that the
naughty lady watched for her lover?
A little further on we looked down some steps into gardens stretching
along beside the river--gardens blazing with flowers and sweet with
blossomed fruit trees. 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.
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