“Has your father gone out by the back terrace?” resumed Mrs. Kennyfeck, one only theme occupying her thoughts. Olivia retired into an adjoining room, and soon returned, saying,-- “No, ma; there's no one there, except Sir Andrew and Lady Janet, taking their morning walk.” “Their run, rather, my dear,” chimed in Miss Kennyfeck, “for she chases the poor old man up and down with a cup of camomile tea, which either scalds or sets him a-coughing. I 'm sure that tiresome old couple have awoke me every day the last week with their squabbling.” “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.