Corny’s tirade against legacy-hunters was highly approved of by Ormond, but as to the rest, he knew nothing about Miss O’Faley’s fortune. He was now to learn that a rich relation of hers, a merchant in Dublin, whom living she had despised, because he was “neither _noble_, nor _comme il faut_,” dying had lately left her a considerable sum of money: so that after having been many years in straitened circumstances, she was now quite at her ease. She had a carriage, and horses, and servants; she could indulge her taste for dress, and make a figure in a country place. The Black Islands were, to be sure, of all places, the most unpromising for her purpose, and the first sight of Corny Castle was enough to throw her into despair. As soon as breakfast was over, she begged her brother-in-law would show her the whole of the chateau from the top to the bottom. With all the pleasure in life, he said, he would attend her from the attics to the cellar, and show her all the additions, improvements, and contrivances, he had made, and all he intended to make, if Heaven should lend him life to complete every thing, or any thing--there was nothing _finished_. “Nor ever will be,” said Dora, looking from her father to her aunt with a sort of ironical smile. “Why, what has he been doing all this life?” said mademoiselle. “Making a _shift_,” said Dora: “I will show you dozens of them as we go over this house. He calls them substitutes--_I_ call them make-shifts.” Ormond followed as they went over the house; and though he was sometimes amused by the smart remarks which Dora made behind backs as they went on, yet he thought she laughed too scornfully at her father’s _oddities_, and he was often in pain for his good friend Corny. His majesty was both proud and ashamed of his palace: proud of the various instances it exhibited of his taste, originality, and _daring_; ashamed of the deficiencies and want of comfort and finish. His ready wit had excuses, reasons, or remedies, for all Mademoiselle’s objections. Every alteration she proposed, he promised to get executed, and he promised impossibilities with the best faith imaginable. “As the Frenchman answered to the Queen of France,” said Corny, “if it is possible, it _shall_ be done; and if it is impossible, it _must_ be done.” Mademoiselle, who had expected to find her brother-in-law, as she owned, a little more difficult to manage, a little savage, and a little restive, was quite delighted with his politeness; but presuming on his complaisance, she went too far. In the course of a week, she made so many innovations, that Corny, seeing the labour and ingenuity of his life in danger of being at once destroyed, made a sudden stand.