“Will you not be here this evening?” said Olivia, as he passed 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 space, we must return.
On a sofa in one corner of the room sat Olivia Kennyfeck, pale and trembling, her eyes tearful, and her whole air bespeaking grief and agitation. At the window close by stood Miss Kennyfeck, the calm composure of her face, the ease of her attitude, 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. Kennyfeck 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. Kennyfeck, 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. Kennyfeck, bitterly. “No, no, Fanny, 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 Fanny's spinsterhood was too palpable to pass unnoticed, and she arose from the sofa with a face of outraged temper.