The few pencilled lines by Cashel, which had summoned him to the meeting recorded in the last chapter, he threw into the fire as soon as he had read, and then arising from the breakfast-table, dryly observed,—
“Don't wait breakfast, Mrs. Kennyfeck; I shall not be back for some time.”
“Another secret, Mr. Kennyfeck?” said his wife, scoffingly.
He only smiled in reply.
“It ought to be a duel, at least, pa,” said his eldest daughter, “from the urgent haste of your departure.”
“Or a runaway couple, who wish to have the settlements—”
“Is that all you know of the matter, Livy?” said her sister, laughing heartily; “why, child, your Gretna Green folks never have settlements—never think of them till six months later, when they are wanting to separate.”
“Is there any occasion for mystery in this case?” rejoined Mrs. Kennyfeck, haughtily.
“To be sure there may, my dear,” broke in Aunt Fanny; “there 's many a dirty thing the lawyers have to do they 'd be ashamed to own before their families.”
Even this did not move Mr. Kennyfeck, and, although from the way he nestled his chin behind the folds of his white cravat, and a certain scarcely perceptible shake of the head, it was clear he longed to refute the foul aspersion.