g. Two wings are added at either
end of it. The half-ruined wing on the left (as you approach the
house) was once a place of residence standing by itself, and was built
in the fourteenth century. One of Sir Percival's maternal ancestors--I
don't remember, and don't care which--tacked on the main building, at
right angles to it, in the aforesaid Queen Elizabeth's time. The
housekeeper told me that the architecture of "the old wing," both
outside and inside, was considered remarkably fine by good judges. On
further investigation I discovered that good judges could only exercise
their abilities on Sir Percival's piece of antiquity by previously
dismissing from their minds all fear of damp, darkness, and rats. Under
these circumstances, I unhesitatingly acknowledged myself to be no
judge at all, and suggested that we should treat "the old wing"
precisely as we had previously treated the Elizabethan bedrooms. Once
more the housekeeper said, "I am quite of your opinion, miss," and once
more she looked at me with undisguised admiration of my extraordinary
common-sense.

We went next to the wing on the right, which was built, by way of
completing the wonderful architectural jumble at Blackwater Park, in
the time of George the Second.

This is the habitable part of the house, which has been repaired and
redecorated inside on Laura's account. My two rooms, and all the good
bedrooms besides, are on the first floor, and the basement contains a
drawing-room, a dining-room, a morning-room, a library, and a pretty
little boudoir for Laura, all very nicely ornamented in the bright
modern way, and all very elegantly furnished with the delightful modern
luxuries. None of the rooms are anything like so large and airy as our
rooms at Limmeridge, but they all look pleasant to live in. I was
terribly afraid, from what I had heard of Blackwater Park, of fatiguing
antique chairs, and dismal stained glass, and musty, frouzy hangings,
and all the barbarous lumber which people born without a sense of
comfort accumulate about them, in defiance of the consideration due to
the convenience of their friends. It is an inexpressible relief to
find that the nineteenth century has invaded this strange future home
of mine, and has swept the dirty "good old times" out of the way of our
daily life.

I dawdled away the morning--part of the time in the rooms downstairs,
and part out of doors in the great square which is formed by the three
sides