Cornelius O'Reilly was the friend and countryman of my father, who had known him from his boyhood, and helped to rear and educate him. He came down every autumn to spend ten days or a fortnight at Rock Cottage. He never failed to bring me a present; but this did not render his visits more welcome to me. Whilst he was in the house, I was less petted, less indulged, and, above all, less noticed by my father. It was this I could not forgive the young man.
On noticing the unamiable look with which I heard the news of his arrival, Sarah indignantly exclaimed, "You ought to blush, Miss, you ought, for being so jealous of your poor Pa! Do you think he is to look at nobody but you? Suppose he were to marry again?"
"He won't, you know he won't," I interrupted, almost passionately; "and you know he said you were not to say it."
This was true; for Sarah, once feeling more than usually "aggravated" with me, had chosen to inform me "that if my Pa went every day to see Miss Murray, it was not all because she was poorly, but because he was going to marry that lady; and that I and her nephew William were to be got rid of by being sent to school as soon as the wedding was over."
She spoke positively. I believed her, and took the matter so much to heart that my father perceived it, learned the cause, and, after relieving me with the assurance that he was quite determined never to marry a second time, and that I was to be his only pet and darling, called in Sarah, and in my presence administered to her a short and severe reprimand, which she resentfully remembered as one of my many offences. Being now beaten on this point, she sharply observed, "Well, Miss, is it a reason, because our Pa won't marry again, that we are to be rude to our Pa's friend?"
I did not answer.
"I am sure he is kind," she continued, "it's in his face."
No reply.
"I never saw a better-tempered looking gentleman."
I was obstinately silent.