As what? The history is unable to record; for a shrill cry from her
niece, and an exclamation nearly as loud, and we fear far less polite,
from Roland, cut short the speech.

Shriek followed shriek from Olivia, who, partly from the shock, and
still more from shame, was thrown into an attack of hysterics.

"What the--" he was very nigh saying something else--"what have you
done, madam?" said Roland, in a state of mingled anger and terror.

"It's only your Aunt Fanny; it's me, my pet. Livy, darling, don't be
frightened; and here, too, is Mr. Cashel."

In this, however, the good lady was mistaken; for Roland had hastened
upstairs to Mrs. Kennyfeck's room, which finding locked, he flew down
to the great drawing-room, thence to the library, and was making for the
garden, when he saw that lady and her daughter crossing the hall.

"I 'm afraid, madam," said he, with all the composure he could summon,
"Miss Olivia Kennyfeck is not well; nothing serious, I trust; but a
sudden fright--a shock--Miss O'Hara somewhat imprudently--"

"Oh, Fanny again!" screamed Mrs. Kennyfeck; and without waiting for
more, rushed upstairs, followed by her daughter, while Roland, in a
state of mind we dare not dwell upon, hastened from the house, and
mounting his horse, galloped off into the wood.

There were times when Cashel would have laughed, and laughed heartily,
at the absurdity of this adventure. He would have even treasured up
the "tableau" as a thing for future ridicule among his friends; but his
better feelings, born of a more manly pride, rejected this now; he was
sorry, deeply, sincerely sorry that one with so much to fascinate and
charm about her, could lend herself to a mere game like this. "Where are
these deceptions to end?" said he, in passionate warmth. "Have candor,
good faith, and honesty fled the world? or, are they only to be found
among those whose vices make the foil to such humble virtues?"

Nor were these his only painful reflections. He was obliged to see
himself--the thing of all others he despised--"a dupe;" the mark for
every mean artifice and every ignoble scheme. The gambler, the flirt,
the adventurer in every walk, regarded him as a prey. Wealth had done
this for him--and it had done no more! None cared for him as a friend or
companion. Even as a lover, his addresses were heralded by his gold, not
enhanced by qualities of his own. What humiliation!

Mary Leicester alone seemed unimpressed by his great fortu