Geld kann vieles in der Welt.
—Wiener Lied.
(Money can do much in this world.)
When Cashel descended the stairs to breakfast, he took a peep into the drawing-room as he went, some slight hope of seeing Olivia, perhaps, suggesting the step. He was disappointed, however; except a servant arranging candies in the lustres, the room was empty. The same fate awaited him in the breakfast-room, where a small table, most significantly laid for two, showed that a tête-à-tête with his host was in store for him. No wonder, then, if Mr. Kennyfeck saw something of impatience in the air of his young guest, whose eyes turned to the door each time it opened, or were as hastily directed to the garden at each stir without,—evident signs of thoughts directed in channels different from the worthy solicitor's.
Confess, my dear reader,—if you be of the sex to judge of these matters,—confess it is excessively provoking when you have prepared your mind, sharpened your wit—perhaps, too, curled your whiskers—with a latent hope that you are to meet and converse with two very handsome and sprightly girls, that the interview is converted into a scene with “Papa.” For ourselves, who acknowledge to have a kind of Catholicism in these affairs, who like the dear creatures in all the flaunting dash of a riding-hat and habit, cantering away of a breezy day, with laughing voice and half-uncurled hair; who delight to see them lounging in a britzska or lolling in a phaeton; who gaze with rapture on charms heightened by the blaze of full-dress, and splendid in all the brilliancy of jewels and flowers,—we own that we have a kind of fondness, almost amounting to a preference, for the prim coquettishness of a morning-dress—some light muslin thing, floating and gauzy—showing the figure to perfection, and in its simplicity suiting well the two braids of hair so innocently banded on the cheeks. There is something of conscious power in the quiet garb, a sense of trustfulness; it is like the warrior advancing without his weapons to a conference that is exceedingly pleasing, seeming to say, You see that I am not a being of tulle, and gauze, and point de Bruxelles, of white satin, and turquoise, and pink camellias, but a creature whose duties may be in the daily round of life, meant to sit beside on a grassy slope as much as on a velvet ottoman, to talk with as well as flirt with.
We have no means of knowing if Cashel was of our mind, and whether these demi-toilette visions were as suggestive to his as they are to our imagination, but that he bore his disappointment with a very bad grace we can perfectly answer for, and showed, by his distracted manner and inattentive air, that the papa's companionship was a very poor substitute for the daughters'.
It must be owned, too, that Mr. Kennyfeck was scarcely a brilliant converser, nor, had he been so, was the matter under consideration of a kind to develop and display his abilities. The worthy solicitor had often promised himself the pleasure he now enjoyed of recounting the whole story of the law proceedings. It was the great event of his own life, “his Waterloo,” and he dwelt on every detail with a prosy dalliance that was death to the listener. Legal subtleties, shrewd and cunning devices of crafty counsellors, all the artful dodges of the profession, Cashel heard with a scornful indifference or a downright apathy, and it demanded all Mr. Kennyfeck's own enthusiasm in the case to make him persist in a narrative so uninteresting to its only auditor.
“I fear I weary you, Mr. Cashel,” said the solicitor, “with these details, but I really supposed that you must feel desirous of knowing not only the exact circumstances of your estate, but of learning the very singular history by which your claim was substantiated.”
“If I am to be frank,” said Cashel, boldly, “I must tell you that these things possess not the slightest interest for me. When I was a gambler—which, unfortunately, I was at one time—whether I won or lost, I never could endure to discuss the game after it was over. So long as there was a goal to reach, few men could feel more ardor in the pursuit. I believe I have the passion for success as strong as my neighbors, but the struggle over, the prize won, whether by myself or another it mattered not, it ceased to have any hold upon me. I could address myself to a new contest, but never look back on the old one.”
“So that,” said Kennyfeck, drawing a long breath to conceal a sigh, “I am to conclude that this is a topic you would not desire to renew. Well, I yield of course; only pray how am I to obtain your opinion on questions concerning your property?”
“My opinions,” said Cashel, “must be mere arbitrary decisions, come to without any knowledge; that you are well aware of. I know nothing of this country,—neither its interests, its feelings, nor its tastes. I know just as little of what wealth will do, and what it will not do. Tell me, therefore, in a few words, what other men, situated as I am, would pursue,—what habits they would adopt, how live, and with whom. If I can conform, without any great sacrifice of personal freedom, I 'll do so, because I know of no slavery so bad as notoriety. Just then give me your counsel, and I ask, intending to follow it.”
Few men were less able than Mr. Kennyfeck to offer a valuable opinion on these difficult subjects, but the daily routine of his professional life had made him acquainted with a certain detail that seemed, to himself at least, an undeviating rule of procedure. He knew that, to the heir of a large estate coming of age, a wife and a seat in Parliament were the two first objects. He had so often been engaged in drawing up settlements for the one, and raising money for the other contingency, that they became as associated in his mind with one-and-twenty years of age as though intended by Nature to denote it.