“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. Kennyfeck'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 Fanny, perhaps, perceived she had gone too far, for, reassuming 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. Kennyfeck, 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.”