Hopes and Fears or, scenes from the life of a spinster

Rashe was better, and was up and dressed.  Hopes of departure produced amity, and they were almost lively over their veal broth, when sounds of arrival made Lucilla groan at the prospect of cockney tourists obstructing the completion of her drawing.

‘There’s a gentleman asking to see you, Miss.’

‘I can see no one.’

‘Cilla, now do.’

‘Tell him I cannot see him,’ repeated Lucy, imperiously.

‘How can you be so silly? he may have heard of our boxes.’

‘I would toss them into the lake rather than take them from him.’

‘Eh! pray let me be present when you perform the ceremony!  Cilla in the heroics!  Whom is she expecting?’ said a voice outside the door, ever ajar, a voice that made Lucilla clasp her hands in ecstasy.

‘You, Owen! come in,’ cried Horatia, writhing herself up.

‘Owen, old Owen! that’s right,’ burst from Cilla, as she sprang to him.

‘Right!  Ah! that is not the greeting I expected; I was thinking how to guard my eyes.  So, you have had enough of the unprotected dodge!  What has Rashe been doing to herself?  A desperate leap down the falls of Niagara.’

Horatia was diffuse in the narration; but, after the first, Lucy did not speak.  She began by arming herself against her brother’s derision, but presently felt perplexed by detecting on his countenance something unwontedly grave and preoccupied.  She was sure that his attention was far away from Rashe’s long story, and she abruptly interrupted it with, ‘How came you here, Owen?’

He did not seem to hear, and she demanded, ‘Is anything the matter?  Are you come to fetch us because any one is ill?’

Starting, he said, ‘No, oh no!’

‘Then what brought you here? a family council, or Honor Charlecote?’

‘Honor Charlecote,’ he repeated mistily: then, making an effort, ‘Yes, good old soul, she gave me a vacation tour on condition that I should keep an eye on you.  Go on, Rashe; what were you saying?’

‘Didn’t you hear me, Owen?  Why, Calthorp, the great Calthorp, is in our wake.  Cilly is frantic.’

‘Calthorp about!’ exclaimed Owen, with a start of dismay.  ‘Where?’

‘I’ve disposed of him,’ quoth Lucilla; ‘he’ll not trouble us again.’

‘Which way is he gone?’

‘I would not tell you if I knew.’

‘Don’t be such an idiot,’ he petulantly answered; ‘I want nothing of the fellow, only to know whether he is clean gone.  Are you sure whether he went by Bray?’

‘I told you I neither knew nor cared.’

‘Could you have believed, Owen,’ said Rashe, plaintively, ‘that she was so absurd as never even to tell him to inquire for our boxes?’

‘Owen knows better;’ but Lucilla stopped, surprised to see that his thoughts were again astray.  Giving a constrained smile, he asked, ‘Well, what next?’

‘To find our boxes,’ they answered in a breath.

‘Your boxes?  Didn’t I tell you I’ve got them here?’

‘Owen, you’re a trump,’ cried Rashe.

‘How on earth did you know about them?’ inquired his sister.

‘Very simply; crossed from Liverpool yesterday, reconnoitred at your hotel, was shown your telegram, went to the luggage-office, routed out that the things were taking a gentle tour to Limerick, got them back this morning, and came on.  And what are you after next?’

‘Home,’ jerked out Lucy, without looking up, thinking how welcome he would have been yesterday, without the goods.

‘Yes, home,’ said Horatia.  ‘This abominable sprain will hinder my throwing a line, or jolting on Irish roads, and if Cilla is to be in agonies when she sees a man on the horizon, we might as well never have come.’

‘Will you help me to carry home this poor invalid warrior, Owen?’ said Lucilla; ‘she will permit you.’

‘I’ll put you into the steamer,’ said Owen; ‘but you see, I have made my arrangements for doing Killarney and the rest of it.’

‘I declare,’ said Rashe, recovering benevolence with comfort, ‘if they would send Scott from the castle to meet me at Holyhead, Cilly might as well go on with you.  You would be sufficient to keep off the Calthorps.’

‘I’m afraid that’s no go,’ hesitated Owen.  ‘You see I had made my plans, trusting to your bold assertions that you would suffer no one to approach.’

‘Oh! never mind.  It was no proposal of mine.  I’ve had enough of Ireland,’ returned Lucy, somewhat aggrieved.

‘How soon shall you be sufficiently repaired for a start, Ratia?’ asked Owen, turning quickly round to her.  ‘To-morrow?  No!  Well, I’ll come over and see.’

‘Going away?’ cried the ladies, by no means willing to part with their guardian.

‘Yes, I must.  Expecting that we should be parallels never meeting, I had to provide for myself.’

‘I see,’ said Rashe; ‘he has a merry party at Newragh Bridge, and will sit up over whist and punch till midnight!’

‘You don’t pretend to put yourselves in competition,’ said he, snatching at the idea hastily.

‘Oh! no,’ said his sister, with an annoyed gesture.  ‘I never expect you to prefer me and my comfort to any one.’

‘Indeed, Cilla, I’m sorry,’ he answered gently, but in perplexity, ‘but I never reckoned on being wanted, and engagements are engagements.’

‘I’m sure I don’t want you when anything pleasanter is going forward,’ she answered, with vexation in her tone.

‘I’ll be here by eleven or twelve,’ he replied, avoiding the altercation; ‘but I must get back now.  I shall be waited for.’

‘Who is it that can’t wait?’ asked Rashe.

‘Oh! just an English acquaintance of mine.  There, goodbye.  I wish I had come in time to surprise the modern St. Kevin!  Are you sure there was no drowning in the lake?’

‘You know it was blessed to drown no one after Kathleen.’

‘Reassuring!  Only mind you put a chapter about it into the tour.’  Under the cover of these words he was gone.