Miss Kennyfeck did not wait for more; but, throwing off the turban and mantle, hastened out to catch her father, who, at the same instant, was issuing from the library..
“Now, pa,” said she, slipping her arm within his, “how is it to be? Pray, now, don't affect the mysterious, but say at once,—has he proposed?”
“Who? has who proposed?”
“Mr. Cashel, of course. How could I mean any other?”
“For you, my dear?” said he, for once venturing upon a bit of raillery.
“Pshaw, pa; for Olivia!”
“Nothing of the kind, my dear. Such a subject has never been alluded to between us.”
“Poor thing! she has been badly treated, then, that's all! It would, however, have saved us all a world of misconception if you had only said so at first; you must own that.”
“But you forget, Miss Kennyfeck, that I never supposed you entertained this impression. Mr. Cashel's conversation with me related exclusively to the affairs of his property.”
“Poor Livy!” said Miss Kennyfeck, letting go his arm and ascending the stairs. As Miss Kennyfeck drew near the door of the drawing room, she began to sing sufficiently loud to be heard by those within, and thus, judiciously heralding her approach, she opened the door and entered. Sir Harvey had been standing beside the chimney-piece with Olivia, but turned hastily round, his countenance exhibiting that state of mingled doubt, fear, and satisfaction, which vouched for the cleverness of the young lady's tactics. Nothing, in truth, could have been more adroit than her management; performing a feat which among naval men is known as “backing and filling,” she succeeded in manoeuvring for nigh an hour, without ever advancing or retiring. We should be unwilling to deny our reader the value of a lesson, did we not feel how the fairer portion of our audience would weary over a recital, in every detail of which they could instruct our ignorance.