“He's at least two hours away, now,” said she, addressing her eldest daughter.
“Very nearly. It wanted only a few minutes to eleven when Mr. Cashel sent for him.”
“I hope, Caroline, that he will remember what is due, not to himself,—I cannot say that,—but to me, on this occasion. It is impossible that Cashel can avoid the acknowledgment of his attentions; nothing but your father's incompetence could permit of his escape.”
“It's too late, mamma,—altogether too late. When Aunt Fanny—”
“Don't speak of her; don't even mention her name in my presence,” cried Mrs. Kennyfeck, with an accent of bitter anguish.
“I was merely going to observe, mamma, that her conduct has involved us in such ridicule, that reparation of the mischief is out of the question.”
“I wish we were away; I cannot bear to stay another day here,” said Olivia, with a deep sigh.
“If Aunt—”
“Don't call her your aunt, Caroline,—I forbid it; she is no sister of mine; she has been the evil genius of our family all her life long. But for her and her wiles I had never been married to your father! Just fancy what a position you might have had now, but for that cruel mishap.”
The problem, to judge from Miss Kennyfeck's face, seemed difficult to solve; but she prudently held her peace.