Roland Cashel, Volume II (of II)

“Is that all you know of the matter, Livy?” said her sister, laughing heartily; “why, child, your Gretna Green folks never have settlements – never think of them till six months later, when they are wanting to separate.”

“Is there any occasion for mystery in this case?” rejoined Mrs. Kennyfeck, haughtily.

“To be sure there may, my dear,” broke in Aunt Fanny; “there ‘s many a dirty thing the lawyers have to do they ‘d be ashamed to own before their families.”

Even this did not move Mr. Kennyfeck, and, although from the way he nestled his chin behind the folds of his white cravat, and a certain scarcely perceptible shake of the head, it was clear he longed to refute the foul aspersion.

“I suppose you will appear at dinner, sir?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with her grandest air.

“I hope so, Mrs. Kennyfeck,” was the mild answer.

“Without you should take it into your head, pa, to enter into rivalry with Mr. Linton, and stay away, heaven knows where or how long,” said Miss Kennyfeck.

Mr. Kennyfeck did not wait for more, but left the room with an air whose solemnity well suited any amount of secrecy.

“Is there a carriage at the door?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck.

“No, mamma; there are three saddle-horses – one with a side-saddle. That odious Miss Meek!” exclaimed Miss Kennyfeck; “what Lord Charles can see in her I cannot conceive. To be sure, she saves a stable-boy the more, and that to him is something.”

“Has your father gone out by the back terrace?” resumed Mrs. Kennyfeck, one only theme occupying her thoughts.

Olivia retired into an adjoining room, and soon returned, saying, —

“No, ma; there’s no one there, except Sir Andrew and Lady Janet, taking their morning walk.”

“Their run, rather, my dear,” chimed in Miss Kennyfeck, “for she chases the poor old man up and down with a cup of camomile tea, which either scalds or sets him a-coughing. I ‘m sure that tiresome old couple have awoke me every day the last week with their squabbling.”

“Step down into the library, my love,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck to her younger daughter, “and bring, me up the ‘Post’ or the ‘St. James’s Chronicle.’”

“And if you meet Phillis, Just ask if he saw your father, for he forgot his gloves.” And, suiting the action to the word, Aunt Fanny dived into a cavern of an apron-pocket, and drew out a pair of knitted things without fingers, which she offered to Olivia.

“Do no such thing, Miss Olivia Kennyfeck,” said her mamma, with an air of imposing grandeur.

“Ma wants the newspaper, Olivia, and is not thinking of papa,” said Miss Kennyfeck; and her eyes sparkled with a malicious fun she well knew how to enjoy.

As Miss Olivia Kennyfeck left the room, her sister approached the fireplace, where a small charred portion of the note thrown down by her father was yet lying. She took it, and walking toward the window, examined it carefully.

And while we leave her thus occupied, let us, for the reader’s information – albeit he may deem the matter trivial – give the contents as Cashel wrote them: —

Dear Mr. Kennyfeck, – Make my excuses to Mrs. Kennyfeck and the Demoiselles Cary and Olivia, if I deprive them of your society this morning at breakfast, for I shall want your counsel and assistance in the settlement of some difficult affairs. I have been shamefully backward in paying my respectful addresses to the ladies of your family; but to-day, if they will permit, I intend to afford myself that pleasure. It is as a friend, and not as my 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.