“There, I hope you are content now,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, as Olivia fell fainting into her arms; and the window was thrown open, and all were busied in employing the wonted restoratives for such attacks. Meanwhile, hostilities were continued, but in a less rigorous fashion. “You know you've ruined everything—you know well how your officious meddling has destroyed this poor child's fortune; rub her temples, Cary.”
“I know that he is a dissipated, abandoned wretch, that would desert her to-morrow as he has done that unhappy—”
“Hush, she is coming to. You want to kill her.”
“Humph!” muttered Aunt Fanny; “this scene might be very effective with the young gentleman, but is quite thrown away upon me.”
“Aunt, aunt!” cried Miss Kennyfeck, reprovingly.
“If we had just followed our own counsels, we should have this very hour been on the way to Tubbermore, perhaps never to leave it!”
Aunt Fanny shook her head.
“Yes. You may affect to doubt and hesitate, and all that, but where is the wonderful condescension in a Mr. Cashel proposing for the grand-niece of Roger Miles O'Hara, of Kilmurray O'Hara of Mayo, the second cousin of Lawrence O'Hara Kelly, that ought to be Lord Bally Kelly?”
“Fairly enough, if that was all,” slipped in Miss O'Hara, hoping to escape from all danger by climbing up the genealogical tree whereon her sister was perched.
“If that was all!” repeated Mrs. Kennyfeck, indignantly, catching at the last words, “and what more is wanting, I 'd be glad to ask? But, to be sure, it was rather a mistake to call to our counsels, in such a case, one that never could succeed in her own.”