Roland Cashel, Volume II (of II). Lever Charles James
counsel learned in law, I ask your presence with me in my library at ten o’clock. Till then,
Believe me yours,
R. C.
Now, of this very commonplace document, a few blackened, crumpled, frail fragments were all that remained; and these, even to the searching dark eyes of Miss Kennyfeck, revealed very little. Indeed, had they not been written in Cashel’s hand, she would have thrown them away at once, as unworthy of further thought. This fact, and the word “Olivia,” which she discovered after much scrutiny, however, excited all her zeal, and she labored now like an antiquarian who believes he has gained the clew to some mysterious inscription. She gathered up the two or three filmy black bits of paper which yet lay within the fender, and placing them before her, studied them long and carefully. The word “settlement” was clear as print.
“‘Olivia and ‘settlement’ in the same paper,” thought she; “what can this mean?
“Come here, mamma – Aunt Fanny – look at this for a moment,” said she, eagerly; and the two ladies approached at her bidding.
“What is that word?” she said to Mrs. Kennyfeck; “is it not ‘Olivia’? Don’t you see the end of the ‘l’ has been burned away, but the rest is quite plain?”
“So it is – upon my life! – and in Cashel’s hand, too!” exclaimed Mrs. Kennyfeck.
“And what is that?” asked Miss Kennyfeck, triumphantly, pointing to another word.
Aunt Fanny, with her spectacles on, bent down, and examined it long.
“‘Battlement.’ That is ‘battlement’ as clear as day,” said she.
“What nonsense, aunt – it is ‘settlement.’ Look at what you call a ‘b’ – it is an ‘s.’”
“Cary’s quite right. The word is ‘settlement,’” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, in a voice tremulous with joy.
“And there! – I hope you can read!” exclaimed Miss Kennyfeck, “even without your spectacles – ‘paying’ – ‘addresses.’”
“Show it to me, Cary,” said her mother, eagerly. “I declare I can read it perfectly. Is it possible? – can this be indeed true?”
“Of course it is, mamma. Will you tell me by what other coincidence you could find Olivia’s name coupled with the words ‘settlement’ and ‘addresses’ in the same note?”
“It is very suspicious, certainly,” said Aunt Fanny.
“I think it very convincing, aunt – not suspicious,” said Miss Kennyfeck, proudly. “Here is something about ‘friend,’ and another word I can’t make out.”
“That’s something about a ‘saw,’ my love,” said Aunt Fanny.
“How absurd, aunt; the word is ‘law.’ I have it. See – here is the name – it is the conclusion of the note, and ran, doubtless, thus: ‘Your present friend, and future son-in-law, – R. C.”
Mrs. Kennyfeck leaned forward, and kissed her daughter’s cheek with a degree of fervor she very rarely gave way to; and then, lying back in her chair, pressed her handkerchief to her face, while she, doubtless, revelled in a little excursion of fancy, not the less brilliant because tempered with anxiety.
If the moment was one of maternal ecstasy for Mrs. Kennyfeck, it was no less one of triumphant joy to her daughter. It was she who revealed the secret meaning; her skill and ingenuity had given light to the dark mystery, and consistency to its incoherence. What domination could be too great for such services? It was then, like a legitimate sovereign assuming the reins of government, she said, —
“I beg, Aunt Fanny, that you will not spoil the game this time, as most unquestionably you did before.”
“Let us see that there is one to be spoiled, my dear,” rejoined Aunt Fanny, snappishly.
“You are really too provoking, Fanny,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, removing her handkerchief from two very red eyelids. “You never are satisfied when you see us happy. Cary has shown you enough to convince any one – ”
“Anyone disposed to conviction, mamma,” broke in Miss Kennyfeck, haughtily. “Hush, here’s Olivia.”
“Mr. Meek is reading the ‘Post,’ ma,” said the young lady, entering; “and he has got the other papers in his pocket, but he says there’s really nothing of any interest in them.”
“I think Livy should be told, mamma,” whispered Miss Kennyfeck to her mother.
“I quite agree with you, Cary,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck; “I never was a friend to any secrecy in families. Your father, indeed, I grieve to say, does not participate in my sentiments; but much may be excused in him, from the habits of his profession, and, I will also say, from the class in life he sprang from.” Here Mrs. Kennyfeck, who had spoken like one delivering an oracle, stopped to drop a tear over the sad mésalliance which had condemned her to become the wife of an attorney. “Olivia, my dear, circumstances have disclosed the nature of the interview which Mr. Kennyfeck would not confide to us. It is one in which you are deeply concerned, my dear. Have you any suspicion to what I allude?”
Olivia assumed her very sweetest look of innocence, but made no reply.
“Mamma wants you to be candid enough to say, if there is anything in the way of particular attention you may have received lately, which should corroborate the impressions we entertain.”
Miss Kennyfeck delivered these words so categorically, that her sister well knew how, in the event of refusal, a searching cross-examination was reserved for her.
Olivia looked down, and a very slight embarrassment might be detected in the quickened heaving of her chest.
“Tell us, my darling,” said Aunt Fanny, “if – if any one has, in a manner so to say – you understand – eh?”
“Keep the blushes, Livy, for another time; they look beautiful with orange flowers in the hair,” said her sister; “but be candid with us.”
“If you mean attentions, mamma – ”
“We mean attentions, ‘and something more,’ as Lord Lyndburst says,” interposed Miss Kennyfeck, who felt that she was the proper person to conduct the inquiry.
“I cannot positively say, mamma, that we are engaged, but I believe that if you and pa made no obstacles – if, in fact, you are satisfied that his rank and fortune are sufficient for your expectations, as I own they are for mine – ”
“What humility!” exclaimed Miss Kennyfeck, holding up her hands.
“Hush, Cary – go on, Livy,” said her mother.
“I have no more to say, mamma. Sir Harvey told me – ”
“Sir Harvey!” cried Mrs. Kennyfeck.
“Sir Harvey Upton!” echoed Miss Kennyfeck.
“The man with the hair all over his face!” exclaimed Aunt Fanny, whose western habits had not accustomed her to mustaches.
Olivia stared from one to the other in mingled fear and astonishment. She suddenly saw that she had been betrayed into a confession to which they did not possess the slightest clew; she also perceived that the tidings, for which she anticipated a most joyous welcome, were received with coldness and almost disdain.
“He is a baronet, mamma, with very great expectations,” said she, proudly; for really, it was a large “bird” to bag, in the beginning of the season, too!
“Very possibly,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, looking to her elder daughter with that silent eloquence which the court occasionally bestows upon the crown counsel, meaning to say: “Have you anything to reply to that?”
“Mamma is aware that Sir Harvey is a baronet, and a captain of Hussars, and Jonas Upton of Somerton is his uncle, who may, or may not, leave him his large estates – a circumstance, most probably, mainly dependent on the alliance he may form in marriage.”
“Yes,