"So Caroline may do with the twenty thousand?"——This was Mrs. O'Sullivan's reflection as her carriage, for the last time, drove out of the demesne of Ballinamoyle. How she came to this conclusion, the reader must now be informed. Neither Miss Wildenheim nor her grandfather was visible for the remainder of the day, on which the trying scenes, that have just been related, occurred. But immediate steps were taken to prevent the celebration of Caroline's birthday, as had been intended, on the following morning; and Mr. Dermoody waited on her mother, to explain the reasons for this disappointment. He accomplished this task with much difficulty, as she interrupted him every three minutes with, "I can't understand nothing about it, Sir. She's an odorous imposter—I tell you, Sir, she's an abominable imposter." And she, in fine, threatened to take the law of Mr. O'Sullivan:—she'd see her child righted, cost what it would, and bring that artful baggage to shame. Mr. Dermoody then reminded her, that Caroline had no right to her uncle's estate, who had given her father a large sum to cut off the entail; so that if Miss Wildenheim's claims were absolutely nugatory, it was entirely in his own disposal; but that as this transaction had taken place since her birth, it was invalid, as Adelaide was the heir at law in preference to Caroline's father; but that, to put the matter beyond doubt, the present proprietor intended to bequeath his estate immediately to his grandaughter, who would thus inherit it by a double tenure. He was too much incensed at that moment to tell her his belief, that Mr. O'Sullivan would also provide for his favourite little Caroline. "Wery vell, Sir, wery vell, I see how it is; she has set you up to cheat me. All these outgoings for nothing! I'd have seen your shabby old place at the dickens before I'd have come so far, if I'd guessed how it would have turned out. Me and mine will be off to-morrow, Sir;" so saying, she flounced out of the room.

Father Dermoody had scarcely finished this discussion with one unreasonable woman, when he had to encounter a second with another. Miss Fitzcarril way-laid him in the passage from Mrs. O'Sullivan's apartment, to remonstrate on the folly of suffering all the expense and trouble, which had been incurred in the preparations made to entertain the tenantry, to go for nothing: "Why put off the meeting?—Wasn't Adelaide as good an heiress as Caroline? Another sort, on my conscience! I vow and declare I think it's very hard there shouldn't be just as much made of her as the other." "But you don't consider the indelicacy of such a thing; Mrs. O'Sullivan's feelings are sufficiently mortified." "Indelicacy, indeed!" retorted Theresa, sputtering, as she always did in the heat of an argument; "she knows just as much about delicacy as my foot does; and I should like to see her mortified just for her impertinence." The priest muttered something about an unchristian spirit, and rather gravely said, "If you won't listen to reason, madam, I must inform you in brief, that Mr. O'Sullivan won't suffer it; his pleasure you know is final." Theresa walked off, gesticulating with both her hands, and muttering, "Good Lord! was there ever any thing half so provoking! These men never have the least consideration, after all the trouble I have had! I'm sure I don't know what's to be done with the loads of things that have been got!"

The following morning Caroline did not, as usual, come to Adelaide's room. She rightly guessed she had been prohibited; but as she was proceeding to obey a message from Mr. O'Sullivan, to breakfast with him in his study, as he was too unwell to see more than one or two people at a time, she saw the little girl leaning over the bannisters of the stairs, sobbing as if her heart would break. "What's the matter, my darling?" said she, taking her fondly in her arms. "Unkind Adele!" sobbed out the afflicted child, "I wouldn't have hurt you for the world; and mama says you're my bitterest enemy. This is a dismal birthday to me; mama's going away, and I shall never see you again, Adele; and nobody loves me but you." Here the poor child, throwing her arms about her friend's neck, cried bitterly. "Dearest little Caroline, every body loves you." "No, no, Adele, my heart will break when I leave you." "We will not part," said Adelaide, straining her to her heart; "come with me." And taking Caroline to her grandfather, she placed her on his knee, and drew forth a repetition of her artless tale. "Mr. Dermoody has told me," said the generous girl, "that you have changed your intentions in her favour. How it would grieve me to injure her prospects! I am amply provided for; I do not desire any increase of fortune; all my heart requires is some being whom I may securely love and be cherished by; and in you is not all this granted? Look at this little angel, and pity her, my dear parent. Oh! her heart will be either broken, or I should never forgive myself the destruction of this lovely creature, whom Providence has, I trust, employed me to save. On condition of your giving her your estate, I'm sure her mother would resign her to my charge till her minority expires." "Adelaide," said the old man, whilst the tears stood in her eyes, "you are as like your mother in mind as in person. Till now I thought no mortal could be as perfect as she was. Caroline shall stay with us, if I can accomplish it. My estate I cannot, will not, give her; but I have much to bestow besides, which I will offer her mother, on the conditions you mention." He proceeded immediately to Mrs. O'Sullivan, to execute this benevolent commission. Pride, and some remains of natural affection, made her hesitate to accept his offers. She retired to consult her elder children, and promised to return an answer in an hour. When she informed them of Mr. O'Sullivan's proposition, Mr. Webberly said, "As far as a few thousands goes, I have no objection to humour the old Don; and Caroline would be welcome to live with us. You needn't fret, mother; if this new heiress marries me, isn't the estate ours after all?" "That's true, so it is, Jack; you'd best make her an offer with all speed." "Do, brother," said Miss Cecilia Webberly, with an eagerness that little accorded with her usual languid delivery; "as I understand the matter, you'd be nephew to Lord Osselstone, and then Meely and I would be fier ton." When Mr. Webberly went in search of Miss Wildenheim, he was told she was in her own room, and could not be seen. "What was to be done?" As there was no time to lose, it was then settled in the family conclave, that Mrs. O'Sullivan should endeavour to gain admittance to the lady, who was now, like Dr. Lenitive's mistress, possessed of "ten thousand charms," for the purpose of soliciting that hand for her son, which four and twenty hours before she had so openly disdained!

When she entered, Adelaide naturally supposing she came on no very friendly errand, received her with a curtsy of the most repulsive dignity; and with a cold gravity of manner, that made her visitor feel she had undertaken a commission she should find great difficulty in executing. She fluttered, and coloured, and hemmed, and played with the costly seals of the watch she always ostentatiously wore on the most conspicuous part of her person, till Adelaide, advancing towards her, said, "May I beg to know your commands, Madam? I own, I scarcely expected the honor of this visit." "Why, Miss Wildenheim, I just vanted to speak to you about my little Carline." "I shall be happy to hear any thing you have to say regarding my dear Caroline, Madam: will you do me the favour to sit down?" Adelaide, taking a chair opposite to the one on which Mrs. O'Sullivan deposited herself, fixed her dark eyes attentively on her face, whilst the former, in a style and dialect that almost conquered her command of countenance, proposed that she should not only take charge of Caroline, but commit herself to the guidance of Mr. Webberly. Offering her as a douceur, to have all her grandfather's estate settled on herself; and also half the sum he intended to give Caroline; and promising moreover to "make Jack a fit husband for ere a duchess in the land." The astonished girl, rather doubting her ability to fulfil this latter gracious promise, and highly amused by the attempt to bribe her with Mr. O'Sullivan's fortune, replied, as soon as she could speak with proper decorum of feature and tone, "I cannot pretend to say that I have not perceived the polite attentions which Mr. Webberly has been in the habit of favouring me with; you will, I hope, Madam, do me the justice to acknowledge that I have never encouraged them: you might have been spared much unnecessary uneasiness, if you had looked on my conduct with unprejudiced eyes; for, (pardon me, Mrs. O'Sullivan,) your son was not a man that I could, under any circumstances, have married. I should not make these observations, but that I am anxious you should understand, that the occurrences of yesterday have made no change in my sentiments; and though—" "Forget and forgive ought to be the word amongst friends," hastily interrupted her auditor. "Some things I cannot forget," returned Adelaide; "I can never forget, that you are the widow of an uncle from whom I received so much affectionate kindness; nor, that to yourself I owe many personal obligations, for affording me an asylum in my hour of adversity, when I had none other to fly to!" And then, in all the winning charms of her captivating manner, she held out her hand, saying, "Though I cannot consent to any nearer connexion, whenever you are inclined to consider yourself my aunt, I shall be happy to show you the duty of a niece."

Mrs. O'Sullivan, quite overcome, said, "You were always a good girl; I wasn't as kind to you as I ought to have been, but—" "I do not wonder," interrupted Adelaide, "that you should have been inclined to dislike me; it was very natural, under all the circumstances; but we are quite cordial now; so pray don't distress me, by referring to a period when you were less my friend than at this moment. If you will confide in me, so far as to resign Caroline to my care, I shall owe you an everlasting obligation." "I will leave her with you," replied the poor woman, bursting into tears; "for I know you will breed her up to be more dutiful to me than the rest; but that's all my own fault. God bless you, if you make my child a comfort to me in my old age." Adelaide said every thing to console her; and Mrs. O'Sullivan, on retiring to her children, addressed her son, with "She wont have you, Jack, and I'm sorry for it; she's the best girl in the world, after all; but your cousin Hannah Leatherly, is a sweet cretur too." When the hour appointed for the departure of the Webberly family arrived, Caroline, while she held fast hold of Adelaide with one hand, lest she should be torn from her, clung with the other to "her own mama," weeping to part with her; and perhaps, if her mother had not been hurried away by her elder daughters, she could not have withstood this demonstration of her child's awakened affection; but they took care she should not have time to reflect on what she was doing. Adelaide, and her quondam guardian separated in perfect amity, but the Miss Webberlys to the last kept up their envious dislike, and scarcely curtsied whilst they refused her offered hand. Their brother, on the contrary, could not conceal his sorrow, as he bid her good bye; and, touched by it, she cordially shook his hand, and with much sincerity, wishing him every happiness, thanked him for the good-natured attention he had always shown her. When Miss Fitzcarril saw him depart, she said to herself, "Well, well! Judy Stewart didn't spey it all right, after all; but, to be sure, winter is not come yet!" At the moment in which Mrs. O'Sullivan made the reflection with which this chapter commences, Colonel Desmond rode past, and her son's spirits were not much enlivened, as he pictured to himself his mission to Ballinamoyle, and its probable success.