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. Peeped into a turret
and was insolently asked what we meant by a splendid but ill-tongued
peacock; admired the ivy green that happed the bare walls and noticed
that the chickens roosted there in its shelter.
We drove home by another way, among gay, green woods under the shelter
of mighty rocks, passed more ruins. We stopped to examine these older
ruins of the ancient O'Ruarkes. A Milesian gentleman showed us through
them. It is the correct thing to have a ruin on your place; it is a kind
of patent of gentility. If a banshee could be thrown in along with a
ruin, a new man would give a great price for an old place.
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