"Yes; I thought her exactly the kind of person you 'd like to have."

"Oh, she is charming--most delightful; but she is a woman of the world, Mr. Cashel." said Aunt f.a.n.n.y, shaking her head.

"Indeed!" muttered Roland, not in the least guessing the drift of the remark.

"No, no, Mr. Cashel, that would never do. These sweet children have no knowledge of such people, further than the common intercourse of society. Lady Kilgoff and Mrs. White--"

"Is she another?"

"She is another, Mr. Cashel," said Aunt f.a.n.n.y oracularly.

"Then I see nothing for it but limiting the party to myself and my yacht commander,--Lieutenant Sickleton of the Navy,--and I believe we have as little of the world about us as any one could desire."

It was full a minute or two before Miss O'Hara could satisfy herself that this speech was not uttered ironically; but the good-natured and frank look of the speaker at last dispelled the fear, and she said,--

"Well, if you really ask my opinion, I'd say, you are right. For our parts--that is, for the girls and myself, I mean--we should like it all the better, and if you would n't find us too tiresome companions--"

Miss O'Hara was interrupted here by Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, who, with considerable agitation in her manner said, "I must beg pardon for disturbing your agreeable _tete-a-tete_, Mr. Cashel, but I wish to say one word to my sister."

As they retired together, Frobisher came up, and, drawing his arm within Roland's, led him to a window: "I say, old fellow, you are going too fast here; hold in a bit, I advise you."

"How do you mean?--what have I done?"

"It's no affair of mine, you know, and you may say I'm devilish impertinent to mix myself up in it, but I don't like to see a fellow 'sold,' notwithstanding."

"Pray be explicit and frank; what is it?"

"Well, if you 'll not take it ill--"

"I promise I shall not--go on."

"Do you mean to marry that little girl yonder, with the blue flower in her hair?"

"I cannot say that I do, or that I do not," said Roland, getting very red.

"Then, you 're making a very bad book, that's all."

"Oh, you 're quite mistaken; I don't suspect her of the slightest feeling towards me--"

"What has that to say to it, my dear fellow?" interrupted Frobisher. "I did n't imply that she was in love with you! I wanted to warn you about the mess you 're getting into,--the family fracas; the explanation asking; the sermonizing; the letter-writing; the tears, reproaches, distractions,--ay, and the damages, too!--devilish heavy they'd be against one like you, with plenty of 'ready.' Hush! they 're coming."

Miss O'Hara advanced towards Cashel, and Frobisher retired; her mien and carriage were, however, statelier and more imposing, with less of cordiality than before. "We cannot agree upon the details of this excursion, I find, sir; my sister's scruples, Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k's doubts,--the difficulties, in short, of every kind, are such, that I fear we must relinquish it."

Cashel bowed deeply, without uttering a word; the insinuations of Frobisher were added in his mind to the suspicion that some secret game was being played against him, and his manly nature was insulted by the doubt.

Aunt f.a.n.n.y, perhaps, perceived she had gone too far, for, rea.s.suming her former smile, she said, "Not that we despair of one day or other taking a pleasure-trip in your beautiful vessel."

"You do me too much honor by expressing such a hope," said Cashel, gravely; and then turning to Frobisher, added, "Will you drive me down to Kingstown? I want to go on board for a few minutes."

"We see you at seven o'clock I hope?" said Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, in a whisper.

"I regret to have made an engagement for to-day, madam," replied Cashel, stiffly. "Good-morning, ladies. Very sorry, Miss O'Hara, our sea intentions have been a failure. Let me hope for better luck on land."

"Will you not be here this evening?" said Olivia, as he pa.s.sed close to her, and there was in the swimming eye and tremulous voice enough to have melted a harder heart than Roland's; but this time he was proof against all blandishments, and with a very cold negative, he departed.

"There is hope for you yet, old fellow," said Lord Charles, as he walked downstairs beside him; "you did that extremely well."

Now, although Roland was far from knowing what he had done, or how to merit the praises, he was too well pleased with the momentary repose the flattery afforded to question further. Meanwhile, a very excited scene took place in the house they had just quitted, and to which, for a brief s.p.a.ce, we must return.

On a sofa in one corner of the room sat Olivia Kennyf.e.c.k, pale and trembling, her eyes tearful, and her whole air bespeaking grief and agitation. At the window close by stood Miss Kennyf.e.c.k, the calm composure of her face, the ease of her att.i.tude, the very types of internal quiet. She looked out, up the square, and playing on the woodwork of the window an imaginary pianoforte air, while in the back drawing-room sat Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k and Miss O'Hara, side by side on a sofa, their excited looks and heightened complexions attesting the animation of the controversy, for such in reality it was.

"I thought you would go too far--I knew you would," said Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, with an angry gesture of the hand.

"What do you mean by too far?" rejoined her sister. "Is it in the face of a letter like this that you would permit him to continue his attentions, and, worse still, let the girls go off for an excursion of maybe a week or two? Read that."

"The letter is anonymous, and may be untrue from end to end."

"Then why not let me test its truth by some allusion to its contents?"

"And banish him from the house ever after," rejoined Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, bitterly. "No, no, f.a.n.n.y, you mistake him very much; he isn't like one of your old County Clare admirers, that can be huffed to-day, and asked to dinner to-morrow,--not that, indeed, you showed much judgment in your management even of them."

This allusion to Aunt f.a.n.n.y's spinsterhood was too palpable to pa.s.s unnoticed, and she arose from the sofa with a face of outraged temper.

"It might be a question, my dear, between us, which had the least success,--I, who never got a husband, or you, who married that one."

If Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k had intended by a tableau to have pointed the moral of this allusion, he could not have succeeded better, as he sat bolt upright in his chair, endeavoring through the murky cloud of his crude ideas to catch one ray of light upon all he witnessed; he looked the very ideal of hopeless stupidity. Miss O'Hara, like a skilful general, left the field under the smoke of her last fire, and Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k sat alone, with what Homer would call "a heart-consuming rage," to meditate on the past.

CHAPTER XXVII. LIEUTENANT SICKLETON'S PATENT PUMP.

The mariner's chart He knew by heart, And every current, rock, and sh.o.r.e, From the drifting sand Off Newfoundland, To the son-split cliffs of Singapore.

Captain Pike.

Lord Charles Frobisher was never a very talkative companion, and as Cashel's present mood was not communicative, they drove along, scarcely interchanging a sentence, till the harbor of Kingstown came in sight, and with it the gay pennons that fluttered from the mast of Roland's schooner.

"I suppose that is your yacht,--the large craft yonder?"

"I hope so," said Cashel, enthusiastically; "she sits the water like a duck, and has a fine rakish look about her."

"So, then, you never saw her before?"

"Never. I purchased her from description, taking her crew, commander, and all, just as she sailed into Southampton from Zante, a month ago.

They sent me a drawing of her, her measurement, tonnage, and draught of water, as also the log of her run in the Mediterranean;--yes, that's she, I can recognize the water-line from the sketch."