eleven o'clock
She had seen the outside of the Castle very often : a vast feudal pile it seemed , seen across the bright river that flowed beneath its outward wall -- a little darksome and gloomy at the best , Clarissa had thought , and something too grand to make a pleasant habitation . She had never seen the inner quadrangle , in all its splendour of modern restoration -- sparkling freestone , fresh from the mason 's chisel ; gothic windows , glowing with rare stained glass ; and the broad fertile gardens , with their terraces and banks of flowers , crowded together to make a feast of colour , sloping down to the setting sun . It was still the same bright midsummer weather -- a blue sky without a cloud , a look upon earth and heaven as if there would never be rain again , or anything but this glow and glory of summer . At eleven o'clock the carriage came from the Castle ; Clarissa 's trunks and travelling-bag were accommodated somehow ; and the girl bade her father good-bye . `` I daresay I shall be asked to dinner while you are there , '' he said , as they were parting , `` and I may possibly come ; I shall be curious to see how you get on . '' `` O , pray do come , papa ; I 'm sure it will do you good . '' And then she kissed him affectionately , emboldened by that softer manner which he had shown towards her lately ; and the carriage drove off .