“Step down into the library, my love,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck to her younger daughter, “and bring, me up the 'Post' or the 'St. James's Chronicle.'”
“And if you meet Phillis, Just ask if he saw your father, for he forgot his gloves.” And, suiting the action to the word, Aunt Fanny dived into a cavern of an apron-pocket, and drew out a pair of knitted things without fingers, which she offered to Olivia.
“Do no such thing, Miss Olivia Kennyfeck,” said her mamma, with an air of imposing grandeur.
“Ma wants the newspaper, Olivia, and is not thinking of papa,” said Miss Kennyfeck; and her eyes sparkled with a malicious fun she well knew how to enjoy.
As Miss Olivia Kennyfeck left the room, her sister approached the fireplace, where a small charred portion of the note thrown down by her father was yet lying. She took it, and walking toward the window, examined it carefully.
And while we leave her thus occupied, let us, for the reader's information—albeit he may deem the matter trivial—give the contents as Cashel wrote them:—
Dear Mr. Kennyfeck,—Make my excuses to Mrs. Kennyfeck
and the Demoiselles Cary and Olivia, if I deprive them of
your society this morning at breakfast, for I shall want
your counsel and assistance in the settlement of some
difficult affairs. I have been shamefully backward in paying
my respectful addresses to the ladies of your family; but
to-day, if they will permit, I intend to afford myself that
pleasure. It is as a friend, and not as my counsel learned
in law, I ask your presence with me in my library at ten
o'clock. Till then,
Believe me yours,
R. C.
Now, of this very commonplace document, a few blackened, crumpled, frail fragments were all that remained; and these, even to the searching dark eyes of Miss Kennyfeck, revealed very little. Indeed, had they not been written in Cashel's hand, she would have thrown them away at once, as unworthy of further thought. This fact, and the word “Olivia,” which she discovered after much scrutiny, however, excited all her zeal, and she labored now like an antiquarian who believes he has gained the clew to some mysterious inscription. She gathered up the two or three filmy black bits of paper which yet lay within the fender, and placing them before her, studied them long and carefully. The word “settlement” was clear as print.
“'Olivia and 'settlement' in the same paper,” thought she; “what can this mean?
“Come here, mamma—Aunt Fanny—look at this for a moment,” said she, eagerly; and the two ladies approached at her bidding.