LIBRARY OF THE University of California. Class J^. ^i^^-^^i/^^^/ ^yj/f€^^'r '^AA^ v/ '^^i'/ 1/^ y^////^ ■y?t^j^ ,<^4 jkk^i relalioo betir€«a ae-" -^I uu gjbd of thsLt. f<>r I nober fea jaaesua ? " '^ H€ wa* talking fbfmj>ewhskX big of 'erfMs^'^JoMrj rvlia^ sjDid I fteked him atlyxit hm et&btLe^ ubkI i£ Jbas esttlle fam Mfco*^ oa b^xke txcSLD blood- " - Mark- j . i^ BellA. ajncwariy, . r - ajod B-:_ - . ^ I feaid- * Yo* 9B«k£l kt iDie waLQt orer 6C jar^ a. look at jfxsr MLgs: forlkjftf/ir fr-.— „- «^^v ^. _ epeaJt of iM:«sefU«b I fettaJl B€!e feOdaaetJaiiitg epier/ " "Aixd -wijat ajasirer did iae BaaJtfe? " ajtked Befla, wtda aa eager look- "He got T€rT red- erijia«o«ia- iiAihfA. aiod «taBi0m(««d o^ot, * Yoa laaaj §|iare joarfeelf tfaie walk, sir: fo^- t^ o«iJt qroaiid' mped I Jmre k a gfcamkL aiod il^e k bdlod fr^jm age, asrwi -Who wag the saaob tlsMere, Mark?" said Kri- TjaJfoH, aaagrflj. "• AliEAR Skeffington, — Some one of your friends, last night, was kind enough to pay my share of the reckoning for me. Will you do me the favor to thank and repay him ? I am off to Ireland hui-riedly, or I 'd call and see you. 1 have not even time to wait for those examination papers, which were to be delivered to me either to-day or to-morrow. Would you send them by post, addressed ' T. Butler, Burnside, Coleraine '? i\Iy head is not very clear to-day, but it should be more stupid if I could forget all your kindness since we met. "Believe me, very sincerely, &c., " Tony Butler." The next was to his mother : — "Dearest IMother, — Don't expect me on Saturday; it may be two or three days later ere I reach home. I am all right, in rare A STRANGE MEETING AND PARTING. 139 health and capital spirits, and never in my life felt more completely your own " Tony Butler." One more note remained, but it was not easy to write it, nor even to deeidfe whether to address it to Dora or to Mr. M'Gruder. At length he decided for the latter, and wrote thus : — " Sir, — I beg to offer you the very humblest apology for the disturbance created last night before your house. We had all drunk too much wine, lost our heads, and forgotten good manners. If I had been in a fitting condition to express myself properly, I'd have made my excuses on the spot. As it is, I make the first use of my recovered brains to tell you how heartily ashamed I am of my con- duct, and how desirous I feel to know that you will cherish no un- generous feelings towards your faithful servant, " T. Butler." " I hope he '11 think it all right. I hope this will satisfy him. I trust it is not too humble, though I mean to be humble. If he's a gentleman, he'll think no more of it; but he may not be a gentleman, and will probably fancy that, because I stoop, he ought to kick me. That would be a mistake; and perhaps it would be as well to add, by way of P.S., ' If the above is not fully satisfactory, and that you prefer another issue to this affair, my address is T. Butler, Burnside, Coleraine, Ireland.' ''Perhaps that would spoil it all," thought Tony. "I want him to forgive an offence; and it 's not the best way to that end to say, ' If you like fighting better, don't balk your fancy.' No, no; I'll send it in its first shape. I don't feel very comfortable on my knees, it is true, but it is all my own fault if I am there. "And now to reach home again. I wish I knew how that was to be done! Seven or eight shillings are not a very big sum, but I 'd set off with them on foot if there was no sea to be traversed." To these thoughts there was no relief by the possession of any article of value that he could sell or pledge. He had neither watch nor ring, nor any of those fanciful trinkets which modern fashion affects. He knew not one person from whom he could ask the loan 140 TONY BUTLER. of a few pounds ; nor, worse again, could he be certain of being able to repay them within a reasonable time. To approach Skeffington on such a theme was impossible; any- thing rather than this. If he were once at Liverpool, there were sure to be many captains of Northern steamers that would know^ him, and give him a passage home. But how to get to Liverpool ? The cheapest railroad fare was above a pound. If he must needs walk, it would take him a week; and he could not afford himself more than one meal a day, taking his chance to sleep under a corn-stack or a hedgerow. Very dear, indeed, was the price that grand banquet cost him, and yet not deaier than half the extravagances men are daily and hourly committing ; the only difference being that the debt is not usually exacted so promptly. He wrote his name on a card, and gave it to the waiter, saying, "When I send to you under this name, you will give my portmanteau to the bearer of the message, for I shall prob- ably not come back, — at least, for some time." The waiter was struck by the words, but more still by the dejected look of one whom, but twenty-four hours back, he had been praising for his frank and gay bearing. " Nothing wrong, I hope, sir ? " asked the man, respect- fully. *'Not a great deal," said Tony, with a faint smile. ''I was afraid, sir, from seeing you look pale this morn- ing, I fancied, indeed, that there was something amiss. I hope you 're not displeased at the liberty 1 took, sir?" "Not a bit; indeed, I feel grateful to you for noticing that I was not in good spirits. I have so ver}' few friends in this big city of yours, your sympathy was pleasant to , me. Will you remember what I said about my luggage?" "Of course, sir, I '11 attend to it; and if not called for within a reasonable time, is there any address you 'd like me to send it to ? " Tony stared at the man, who seemed to flinch under the gaze; and it shot like a bolt through his mind, "He thinks I have some gloomy purpose in my head." "I believe I apprehend you," said he, laying his hand on the man's shoulder; "but you are all wrong. There is nothing more serious the matter with me than to have run myself out of A STRANGE MEETING AXD PARTING. 141 money, and I cannot conveniently wait here till I write and get an answer from home; there 's the whole of it." "Oh, sir, if you'll not be offended at a humble man like me, — if you 'd forgive the liberty 1 take, and let me as far as a ten-pound note ; " he stammered, and reddened, and seemed positively wretched in his attempt to explain himself without any breach of propriety. Nor was Tony, indeed, less moved as he said, — "I thank you heartily; you have given me something to remember of this place with gratitude so long as I live. But 1 am not so hard pressed as you suspect. Jt is a merely momentary inconvenience, and a few days will set it all right. Good-bye; I hope we'll meet again." And he shook the man's hand cordially in his own strong fingers, and passed out with a full heart and a very choking throat. When he turned into the street, he walked along without choosing his way. His mind was too much occupied to let him notice either the way or the passers-by ; and he saun- tered along, now musing over his own lot, now falling back upon that trustful heart of the poor waiter, whose position could scarcely have inspired such confidence. "I am certain that what are called moralists are unfaii censors of their fellow-men. I '11 be sworn there is more of kindness and generosity and honest truth in the world thar there is of knavery and falsehood; but as we have no rewards for the one, and keep up jails and hulks for the other, we have nothing to guide our memories. That 's the whole of it; all the statistics are on one side." While he was thus ruminating, he had wandered along, and was already deep in the very heart of the City. Nor did the noise, the bustle, the overwhelming tide of humanity arouse him, as it swept along in its ceaseless flow. So intently was his mind turned inward, that he narrowly escaped being run over by an omnibus, the pole of which struck him, and under whose wheels he had unquestionably fallen, if it were not that a strong hand grasped him by the shoulder, and swung him powerfully back upon the flag- way. "Is it blind you are, that you didn't hear the 'bus?" 142 TOXY BUTLEK. cried a somewhat gruff voice, with an accent that told of a laud he liked well ; and Tony turned and saw a stout, strongly built young fellow, dressed in a sort of bluish frieze, and with a bundle on a stick over his shoulder. He was good-looking, but of a more serious cast of features than is common with the lower-class Irish. "I see," said Tony, "that I owe this good turn to a countryman. You're from Ireland?" "Indeed, and I am, your honor, and no lie in it," said he, reddening, as if — alt! .ough there was nothing to be ashamed of by the avowal — popular prejudice lay rather in the other direction. "I don't know what I was thinking of," said Tony, again; and even yet his head had not regained its proper calm. "I forgot all about where I was, and never heard the horses till they were on me." "'Tis what I remarked, sir," said the other, as with his sleeve he brushed the dirt off Tony's coat. ''I saw you was like one in a dhream." "I wish I had anything worth offering you," said Tony, reddening, while he placed the last few shillings he had in the other's palm. ''What's this for?" said the man, half angrily; "sure you don't think it 's for money I did it; " and he pushed the coin back almost rudely from him. While Tony assuaged, as well as he might, the anger of his wounded pride, they walked on together for some time, till at last the other said, "I'll have to hurry away now, your honor; I 'm to be at Blackwall, to catch the packet for Derry, by twelve o'clock." "What packet do you speak of? " "The ' Fo3"le,' sir. She's to sail this evening, and I have my passage paid for me, and I mustn't lose it." "If I had my luggage, I 'd go in her too. I want to cross over to Ireland." "And where is it, sir, — the luggage, I mean?" "Oh, it 's only a portmanteau, and it 's at the Tavistock Hotel, Covent Garden." "If your honor wouldn't mind taking charge of this," said he, pointing to his bundle, "I'd be off in a jiffy, and A STRANGE MEETING AND PARTING. 148 get the trunk, and be back by the time you reached the steamer. " "Would you really do me this service? Well, here 's my card ; when you show this to the waiter, he '11 hand you the portmanteau; and there is nothing to pay." "All right, sir; the ' Foyle,' a big paddle-steamer, — you '11 know her red chimney the moment you see it ; " and without another word he gave Tony his bundle and hurried away. "Is not this trustfulness?" thought Tony, as he walked onward; "I suppose this little bundle contains all this poor fellow's worldly store, and he commits it to a stranger without one moment of doubt or hesitation." It was for the second time on that same morning that his heart was touched by a trait of kindness ; and he began to feel that if such proofs of brotherhood were rife in the world, narrow fortune was not half so bad a thing as he had ever believed it. It was a long walk he had before him, and not much time to do it in, so that he was obliged to step briskly out. As for the bundle, it is but fair to own that at first he carried it with a certain shame and awkwardness, affecting in various ways to assure the passers-by that such an occupa- tion was new to him; but as time wore on, and he saw, as he did see, that very few noticed him, and none troubled themselves as to what was the nature of his burden, he grew more indifferent, well consoled by thinking that nothing was more unlikely than that he should be met by any one he knew. When he got down to the river-side, boats were leaving in every direction, and one for the "Foyle," with two passen- gers, offered itself at the moment. He jumped in, and soon found himself aboard a large mercantile boat, her deck covered with fragments of machinery and metal for some new factory in Belfast. "Where's the captain?" asked Tony of a gruff-looking man in a tweed coat and a wide- awake. "I'm the captain; and what then?" said the other. In a few words Tony explained that he had found himself short of cash, and not wishing to be detained till he could write and have an answer from home, he begged he might have a deck passage. "If it should cost more than I have 144 TONY BUTLER. money for, I will leave my trunk with your steward till I remit my debt." ''Get those boats aboard; clear away that hawser there; look out, or you'll foul that collier," cried the skipper, his deep voice ringing above the din and crash of the escaping steam, but never so much as noticing one word of Tony's speech. Too proud to repeat his address, and yet doubting how it had been taken, he stood, occasionally buffeted about by the sailors as they hurried hither and thither; and now, amidst the din, a great bell rang out; and while it clattered away, some scrambled up the side of the ship, and others clambered down, while with shouts and oaths and impreca- tions on every side, the great mass swung round, and two slow revolutions of her paddles showed she was ready to start. Almost frantic with anxiety for his missing friend, Tony mounted on a bulwark, and scanned every boat he could see. "Back her!" screamed the skipper; "there, gently; all right. Go ahead;" and now with a shouldering, surging heave, the great black monster lazily moved forward, and gained the middle of the river. Boats were now hurrying wildly to this side and to that, but none towards the "Fojie." "What will become of me? What will he think of me ? " cried Tony ; and he peered down into the yellow tide, almost doubtful if he ought not to jump into it. "Go on," cried the skipper; and the speed increased, a long swell issuing from either paddle, and stretching away to either bank of the river. Far away in this rocking tide, tossing hopelessly and in vain, Tony saw a small boat wherein a man was standing, wildly waving his handker- chief by way of signal. "There he is, in one minute; give him one minute, and he will be here," cried Tony, not knowing to whom he spoke. "You'll get jammed, my good fellow, if you don't come down from that," said a sailor. '^ You'll be caught in the davits when they swing round ; " and seeing how inattentive he was to the caution, he laid a hand upon him and forced him upon deck. The ship had now turned a bend of the ■4?,I*:<' A STRANGE MEETING AND PARTING. 145 river, and as Tony turned aft to look for the boat, she was lost to him, and he saw her no more. For some miles of the way, all were too much occupied to notice him. There was much to stow away and get in order, the cargo having been taken in even to the latest moment before they started. There were some carriages and horses, too, on board, neither of which met from the sailors more deferential care than they bestowed on cast-metal cranks and iron sleepers, thus occasioning little passages between those in charge and the crew, that were the reverse of amicable. It was in one of these Tony heard a voice he was long familiar with. It was Sir Arthur Lyle's coachman, who was even more overjoyed than Tony at the recognition. He had been sent over to fetch four carriage-horses and two open carriages for his master, and his adventures and mishaps were, in his own estimation, above all human experience. "I'll have to borrow a five-pound note from you," said Tony ; "I have come on board without anything, — even my luggage is left behind." " Five-and-twenty, Mr.. Tony, if you want it. I'm as glad as fifty to see you here. You '11 be able to make these fellows mind what I say. There 's not as much as a spare tarpaulin to put over the beasts at night; and if the ship rocks, their legs will be knocked to pieces." If Tony had not the same opinion of his influence, he did not however hesitate to offer his services, and assisted the coachman to pad the horse-boxes, and bandage the legs with an overlaid covering of hay rope, against any acci- dents. " Are you steerage or aft? " asked a surly-looking steward of Tony, as he was washing his hands after his exertions. "There's a question to ask of one of the best blood in Ireland," interposed the coachman. "The best blood in Ireland will then have to pay cabin fare," said the steward, as he jotted down a mem. in his book ; and Tony was now easy enough in mind to laugh at the fellow's impertinence as he paid the money. The voyage was not eventful in any way; the weather was fine, the sea not rough, and the days went by as monoto- nously as need be. If Tony had been given to reflection, 10 146 TONY BUTLER. he would have had a glorious opportunity to indulge the taste, but it was the very least of all his tendencies. He would indeed, have liked much to review his life, and map out something of his future road ; but he could do nothing of this kind without a companion. Asking him to think for himself and by himself was pretty much like ask- ing him to play chess or backgammon with himself, where it depended on his caprice which side was to be the winner. The habit of self-depreciation had, besides, got hold of him, and he employed it as an excuse to cover his inertness. "What's the use of my doing this, that, or t 'other? I '11 be a stupid dog to the end of the chapter. It 's all waste of time to set me down to this or that. Other fellows could learn it, — it's impossible for me." It is strange how fond men will grow of pleading in forma ^pauperis to their own hearts, — even men constitutionally proud and high-spirited. Tony had fallen into this unlucky habit, and got at last to think it was his safest way in life to trust very little to his judgment. '' If I had n't been ' mooning,' I 'd not have walked under the pole of the omnibus, nor chanced upon this poor fellow, whose bundle 1 have carried away, nor lost my own kit, which, after all, was something to me." Worse than all these — infinitely worse — was the thought of how that poor peasant would think of him ! " What a cruel lesson of mis- trust and suspicion have I implanted in that honest heart ! What a terrible revulsion must have come over him, when he found I had sailed away and left him ! " Poor Tony's reasoning was not acute enough to satisfy him that the man could not accuse him for what was out of his power to pre- vent, — the departure of the steamer ; nor with Tony's own luggage in his possession, could he arraign his honesty, or distrust his honor. He bethought him that he would consult Waters, for whose judgment in spavins, thoroughpins, capped hocks, and navic- ular lameness, he had the deepest veneration. Waters, who knew horses so thoroughly, must needs not be altogether ignorant of men. " I say, Tom," cried he, " sit down here, and let me tell you something that 's troubling me a good deal, and perhaps A STRANGE MEETING AND PARTING. 147 you can give me some advice on it." They sat down ac- cordingly under the shelter of a horse-box, while Tony related circumstantially his late misadventure. The old coachman heard him to the end without inter- ruption. He smoked throughout the whole narrative, only now and then removing his pipe to intimate by an emphatic nod that the " court was with the counsel." Indeed, he felt that there was something judicial in his position, and as- sumed a full share of importance on the strength of it. »' There 's the whole case now before you," said Tony, as he finished, — " what do you say to it? " *'^Yell, there an't a great deal to say to it, Mr. Tony," said he, slowly. " If the other chap has got the best kit, by course he has got the best end of the stick ; and you may have an easy conscience about that. If there 's any money or val'able in his bundle, it is just likely there will be some trace of his name, and where he lives too ; so that, turn out either way, you're all right." " So that you advise me to open his pack and see if I can Qnd a clew to him." *' Well, indeed, I'd do that much out of cur'osity. At all events, you '11 not get to know about him from the blue hand- kercher with the white spots." Tony did not quite approve the counsel ; he had his scruples, i3ven in a good cause, about this investigation, and he walked the deck till far into the night, pondering over it. He tried to solve the case by speculating on what the countryman would have done with his pack. " He '11 have doubtless tried to find out where I am to be met with or come at. He '11 have ran- sacked my traps, and if so, there will be the less need of mfj investigating his. He's sure to trace we." This reasoning satisfied him so perfectly that he lay down at last to sleep with an easy conscience and so weary a brain that he slept pro- foundly. As he awoke, however, he found that Waters had already decided the point of conscience which had so troubled him, and was now sitting contemplating the contents of the peasant's bundle. " There an't so much as a scrap o' writing, Mr. Tony ; there an't even a prayer-book with his name in it, — but there 's a track to him for all that. I have him ! " and he winked with 148 TONY BUTLER. that self-satisfied knowingness which had so often delighted him in the detection of a splint or a bone-spavin. " You have him," repeated Tony. " Well, what of him ? " " He 's a jailer, sir, — yes, a jailer. I won't say he 's the chief, — he 's maybe second or third, — but he 's one of 'em." *' How do you know that? " '* Here's how I found it out; " and he drew forth a blue cloth uniform, with yellow cuffs and collar, and a yellow seam down the trousers. There were no buttons on the coat, but both on the sleeve and the collar were embroidered two keys, crosswise. " Look at them. Master Tony ; look at them, and say an't that as clear as day? It's some new regulation, I suppose, to put them in uniform ; and there 's the keys, the mark of the lock-up, to show who he is that wears them." Though the last man in the world to read riddles or unravel difficulties, Tony did not accept this information very willingly. In truth, he felt a repugnance to assign to the worthy country fellow a station which bears, in the appreciation of every Irishman, a certain stain. For, do as we will, reason how we may, the old estimate of the \slvi as an oppression surges up through our thoughts, just a& springs well up in an undrained soil. *' I 'm certain you 're wrong. Waters," said he, boldly ; " h^ had n't a bit the look of that about him : he was a fine, fresh- featured, determined sort of fellow, but without a trace o1 cunning or distrust in his face." "• I '11 stand to it I 'm right, Master Tony. What does keys mean? Answer me that. An't they to lock up? It must be to lock up something or somebody, — j^ou agree to that ? " Tony gave a sort of grunt, which the other took for con- currence, and continued. " It's clear enough he an't the county treasurer," said he, with a mocking laugh, — " nor he don't keep the Queen's private purse neither; no, sir. It's another sort of val'- ables is under his charge. It 's highwaymen and house- breakers and felony chaps." ' ' Not a bit of it ; he 's no more a jailer than I 'm a hangman . Besides, what is to prove that this uniform is his own? Why not be a friend's, — a relation's? Would a fellow trained to the ways of a prison trust the first man he meets in the street, A STRANGE MEETING AND PARTING. 149 and hand him over his bundle ? Is that like one whose daily life is passed among rogues and vagabonds?" " That 's exactly how it is," said Waters, closing one eye to look more piercingly astute. '^ Did you ever see anything trust another so much as a cat does a mouse? She hasn't no dirty suspicions at all, but lets him run here and run there, only with a make-believe of her paw letting him feel that he an't to trespass too far on her patience." " Pshaw ! " said Tony, turning away angrily ; and he mut- tered to himself as he walked off, " how stupid it is to take any view of life from a fellow who has never looked at it from a higher point than a hayloft ! " As the steamer rounded Fairhead, and the tall cliffs of the Causeway came into view, other thoughts soon chased away all memory of the poor country fellow. It was home was now before him, — home, tiiat no humility can rob of its hold upon the heart ; home, that appeals to the poorest of us by the self- same sympathies the richest and greatest feel ! Yes, yonder was Carrig-a-Rede, and there were the Skerries, so near and yet so far off. How slowly the great mass seemed to move, though it was about an hour ago she seemed to cleave the water like a fish ! How unfair to stop her course at Larne to land those two or three passengers, aud what tiresome leave- takings they indulge in ; and the luggage, too, they '11 never get it together ! So thought Tony, his impatience mastering both reason and generosity. " I '11 have to take the horses on to Derry, Master Tony," said Waters, in an insinuating tone of voice, for he knew well what able assistance the other could lend him in any difficulty of the landing. "Sir Arthur thought that if the weather was fine we might be able to get them out on a raft and tow them into shore, but it's too rough for that." " Far too rough," said Tony, his eyes straining to catch the well-known landmarks of the coast. "And with blood-horses too, in top condition, there's more danger." " Far more." "So, I hope, your honor will tell the master that I didn't ask the captain to stop, for I saw it was no use." "None whatever. I'll tell him, — that is, if I see him/* muttered Tony, below his breath. 150 TONY BUTLER. " Maybe, if there was too much sea ' on ' for youi' honor to land — " '' What?" interrupted Tony, eying him sternly. " I was saying, sir, that if your honor was forced to come on to Derry — " " How should I be forced? " ''By the heavy surf, no less," said Waters, peevishly, for he foresaw failure to his negotiation. "The tide will be on the flood till eleven, and if they can't lower a boat, I '11 swim it, that 's all. As to going on to Derry with you, Tom," added he, laughing, " I 'd not do it if you were to give me your four thoroughbreds for it." " Well, the wind 's freshening, anyhow/' grumbled Waters, not very sorry, perhaps, at the turn the weather was taking. " It will be the rougher for j^ou as you sail up the Lough," said Tony, as he lighted his cigar. Waters pondered a good deal over what he could not but regard as a great change in character. This young man, so gay, so easy, so careless, so ready to do anything or do nothing, — how earnest he had grown, and how resolute, and how stern too ! Was this a sign that the world was going well, or the reverse, with him? Here was a knotty problem, and one which, in some form or other, has ere now puzzled wiser heads than Waters's. For as the traveller threw off in the sunshine the cloak which he had gathered round him in the storm, prosperity will as often disclose the secrets of our hearts as that very poverty that has not wealth enough to buy a padlock for them. " You want to land here, young man," said the captain to Tony ; " and there 's a shore-boat close alongside. Be alive, and jump in when she comes near." "Good-bye, Tom," said Ton}^ shaking hands with him. " I '11 report well of the beasts, and say also how kindly you treated me." " You '11 tell Sir Arthur that the rub on the off shoulder won't signify, sir; and that Emperor's hock is going down every day. And please to say, sir, — for he '11 mind you more than me, — that there 's nothing will keep beasts from kicking when a ship takes to rollin' ; and that when the helpers got sea-sick, and could n't keep on deck, if it had n't A STRANGE MEETING AND PARTING. 151 been for yourself — Oh, he's not minding a word I'm saying," muttered he, disconsolately; and certainly this was the truth, for Tony was now standing on a bulwark, with the end of a rope in his hand, slung whip fashion from the yard, to enable him to swing himself at an opportune moment into the boat, all the efforts of the rowers being directed to keep her from the steamer's side. " Now's your time, my smart fellow," cried the Captain, — "off with you! " And, as he spoke, Tony swung him- self free with a bold spring, and, just as the boat rose on a wave, dropped neatly into her. " Well done for a landsman! " cried the skipper; ''port the helm, and keep away." "You're forgetting the bundle. Master Tony," cried Waters, and he flung it towards him with all his strength ; but it fell short, dropped into the sea, floated for about a second or so, and then sank forever. Tony uttered what was not exactly a blessing on his awk- wardness, and, turning his back to the steamer, seized the tiller and steered for shore. CHAPTER XVI. AT THE ABBEY. "Who said that Tony Butler had come back? "said Sir Arthur, as they sat at breakfast on the day after his arrival. " The gardener saw him last night, papa," said Mrs. Trafford ; *' he was sitting with his mother on the rocks below the cottage ; and when Gregg saluted him, he called out, ' All well at the Abbey, I hope ? ' " *' It would have been more suitable if he had taken the trouble to assure himself of that fact by a visit here," said Lady Lyle. " Don't you think so, Mr. Maitland?" " I am disposed to agree with you," said he, gravely. "Besides," added Sir Arthur, " he must have come over in the ' Foyle,' and ought to be able to bring me some news of my horses. Those two rough nights have made me very uneasy about them." "Another reason for a little attention on his part," said her Ladyship, bridling ; and then, as if anxious to show that so insignificant a theme could not weigh on her thoughts, she asked her daughter when Mark and Isabella purposed coming home. "They spoke of Saturdaj^, mamma; but it seems now that Mrs. Maxwell has got up — or somebody has for her — an archery meeting for Tuesday, and she writes a most pressing entreaty for me to drive over, and, if possible, persuade Mr. Maitland to accompany me." " Which I sincerely trust he will not think of." " And why, dearest mamma?" " Can you ask me, Alice? Have we not pushed Mr. Maitland's powers of patience far enough by our own dul- ness, without subjecting him to the stupidities of Tilney Park? — the dreariest old mansion of a dreary neighborhood/* AT THE ABBEY. 153 "But he might like it. As a matter of experimental research, he told us how he passed an autumn with the Mandans, and ate nothing but eels and wood-squirrels." " You are forgetting the prairie rats, which are really delicacies.'* " Nor did I include the charms of the fair Chachinhontas, who was the object of your then affections," said she, laughingly, but in a lower tone. " So, then," said he, " Master Mark has been playing traitor, and divulging my confidence. The girl was a marvellous horsewoman, which is a rare gift with Indian women. I 've seen her sit a drop-leap — I '11 not venture to say the depth, but certainl}^ more than the height of a man — with her arms extended wide, and the bridle loose and flowing." ' ' And you followed in the same fashion ? " asked Alice, with a roguish twinkle of the eye. "I see that Mark has betrayed me all through," said he, laughing. " I own I tried it, but not with the success that such ardor deserved. I came head-foremost to the ground before ray horse." " After all, Mr. Maitland, one is not obliged to ride like a savage," said Lady Lyle. " Except when one aspires to the hand of a savage princess, mamma. Mr. Maitland was ambitious in those days." " Very true," said he, with a deep sigh ; " but it was the only time in my life in which I could say that I suffered my affection to be influenced by mere worldly advantages. She was a great heiress ; she had a most powerful family connection." " How absurd you are ! " said Lady Lyle, good-humoredly. "Let him explain himself, mamma; it is so very seldom he will condescend to let us learn any of his sentiments on any subject. Let us hear him about marriage." "It is an institution I sincerely venerate. If I have not entered into the holy estate myself, it is simply from feeling I am not good enough. I stand without the temple, and only strain my eyes to catch a glimpse of the sanctuary." " Does it appear to you so very awful and appalling, then?" said my Lady. 154 TONY BUTLER. " Certainly it does. All the efforts of our present civiliza- tion seem directed to that end. We surround it with what- ever can inspire terror. We call in the Law as well as the Church, — we add the Statutes to the Liturgy ; and we close the whole with the most depressing of all festivities, — a wedding-breakfast." " And the Mandans, do they take a more cheerful view of matters?" asked Alice. '' How can you be so silly, Alice? " cried Lady L^^le. " My dear mamma, are you forgetting what a marvellous opportunity we enjoy of learning the geography of an un- known sea, from one of the only voyagers who has ever traversed it? " "Do you mean to go to Tilney, Alice?" asked her mother, curtly. " If Mr. Maitland would like to add Mrs. Maxwell to his curiosities of acquaintance." " I have met her already. I think her charming. She told me of some port, or a pair of coach-horses, I can't be certain which, her late husband purchased forty-two years ago ; and she so mingled the subjects together, that I fancied the horses were growing yellow, and the wine actually frisky." *' I see that you have really listened to her," said Mrs. Trafford. "Well, do you consent to this visit?" " Delighted. Tell me, by way of parenthesis, is she a near neighbor of the worthy Commodore with the charming daughters? Gambler Graham, I think his name is." " Yes ; she lives about twelve miles from his cottage : but why do you ask ? " " I have either promised, or he fancies I have promised, to pay him a flying visit." " Another case of a savage princess," whispered Mrs. Trafford ; and he laughed heartily at the conceit. "If we take the low road, — it 's very little longer and much prettier, — we pass the cottage ; and if your visit be not of great length, — more than a morning call, in fact, — I '11 go there with you." "You overwhelm me with obligations," said he, bowing low, to which she replied by a courtesy so profound as to throw an air of ridicule over his courtly politeness. AT THE ABBEY. 155 *' Shall we say to-morrow for our departure, Mr. Mait- land?" *' I am at your orders, madam." "Well, then, I'll write to dear old Aunt Maxwell — I suppose she'll be your aunt too before you leave Tiluey (for we all adopt a relation so very rich and without an heir) — and delight her by saying that I have secured Mr. Maitland, an announcement which will create a flutter in the neighborhood by no means conducive to good archery." "Tell her we only give him up till Wednesday," said Lady Lyle, " for I hope to have the Crayshaws here by that time, and I shall need you all back to receive them." " More beauties, Mr. Maitland," exclaimed Mrs. Trafford. ** What are you looking so grave about? " " I was thinking it was just possible that I might be called away suddenly, and that there are some letters I ought to write ; and, last of all, whether I should n't go and make a hurried visit to Mrs. Butler ; for in talking over old friends in Scotland, we have grown already intimate." " What a mysterious face for such small concerns! " said Mrs. Trafford. "Didn't you say something, papa, about driving me over to look at the two-year-olds ? " " Yes ; I am going to inspect the paddock, and told Giles to meet me there." ''What's the use of our going without Tony?" said she, disconsolately; "he's the only one of us knows anything about a colt." " I really did hope you were beginning to learn that this young gentleman was not an essential of our daily life here," said Lady Lyle, haughtily. " I am sorry that I should have deceived myself." '' My dear mamma, please to remember your own ponies that have become undrivable, and Selim, that can't even be saddled. Gregg will tell you that he does n't know what has come over the melon-bed, — the plants look all scorched and withered ; and it was only yesterday papa said that he 'd have the schooner drawn up till Tony came back to decide on the new keel and the balloon jib ! " " What a picture of us to present to Mr. Maitland ! but I trust, sir, that you know something of my daughter's talent 156 TONY BUTLER. for exaggerated description by this time, and you will not set us down for the incapables she would exhibit us." Lady Lyle moved haughtily away as she spoke ; and Sir Arthur, drawing Mrs. Trafford's arm within his own, said, " You're in a fighting mood to-day. Come over and torment Giles." '* There 's nothing I like better," said she. " Let me go for my hat and a shawl." '' And I'm off to my letter- writing," said Maitland. CHAPTER XVn. AT THE COTTAGE. What a calm, still, mellow evening it was, as Tony sat with his mother in the doorway of the cottage, their hands clasped, and in silence, each very full of thought, indeed, but still fuller of that sweet luxury, the sense of being together after an absence, — the feeling that home was once more home, in all that can make it a centre of love and affection. "I began to think you were n't coming back at all, Tony," said she, ''when first you said Tuesday, and then it was Friday, and then it came to be the middle of another week. ' Ah me! ' said I to the doctor, 'he '11 not like the little cot- tage down amongst the tall ferns and the heather, after all that grand town and its fine people.' " "If you knew how glad I am to be back here," said he, with a something like choking about the throat; "if you knew what a different happiness I feel under this old porch, and with you beside me 1 " " My dear, dear Tony, let us hope we are to have many such evenings as this together. Let me now hear all about your journey; for, as yet, you have only told me about that good-hearted country fellow whose bundle has been lost. Begin at the beginning, and try and remember everything." "Here goes, then, for a regular report. See, mother, you'd not believe it of me, but I jotted all down in a memorandum-book, so that there 's no trusting to bad memory; all's in black and white." "That ivds prudent, Tony. I 'm really glad that you have such forethought. Let me see it." "No, no. It's clean and clear beyond your reading. I shall be luck}' enough if I can decipher it myself. Here we begin: ' Albion, Liverpool. Capital breakfast, but dear. 158 TONY BUTLER. Wanted change for my crown-piece, but chaffed out of it by pretty barmaid, who said ' — Oh, that 's all stuff and non- sense," said he, reddening. " ' Mail-train to London; not allowed to smoke first-class; travelled third, and had my 'baccy.' I need n't read all this balderdash, mother; I '11 go on to business matters. ' Skefty, a trump, told me where he buys "birdseye" for one and nine the pound; and, mixed with cavendish, it makes grand smoking. Skeffy says he '11 get me the first thing vacant. ' " "Who is Skefty? I never heard of him before." "Of course you 've heard. He 's private secretary to Sir Harry, and gives away all the Otiice patronage. I don't think he 's five feet five high, but he 's made like a Hercules. Tom Sayers says Skeffy's deltoid — that's the muscle up liere — is finer than any in the ring, and he 's such an active devil. I must tell you of the day I held up the ' Times ' for him to jump through; but I see you are impatient for the serious things : well, now for it. "Sir Han-y, cruel enough, in a grand sort of overbearing way, told me my father was called Watty. I don't believe it; at least, the fellow who took the liberty must have earned the right by a long apprenticeship." " You are right there, Tony ; there were not many would venture on it." "Did any one ever call him Wat Tartar, mother? " "If they had, they 'd have caught one, Tony, I promise you. " "I thought so. Well, he went on to say that he had nothing he could give me. It was to the purport that I was fit for nothing, and I agreed with him." "That was not just prudent, Tony; the world is prone enough to disparage without helping them to the road to it/' "Possibly; but he read me like a book, and said that I only came to him because I was hopeless. He asked me if I knew a score of things he was well aware that I must be ignorant of, and groaned every time I said ' No! ' When he said, ' Go home and brush up your French and Italian,' I felt as if he said, ' Look over your rent roll, and thin your young timber.' He 's a humbug, mother." AT THE COTTAGE. 159 "Oh, Tony, you must not say that." "I will say it; he 's a humbug, and so is the other." "Who is the other you speak of?" "Lord Ledgerton, a smartish old fellow, with a pair of gray eyes that look through you, and a mouth that you can't guess whether he's going to eat you up or to quiz you. It was he that said, ' Make Butler a messenger.' They did n't like it. The Office fellows looked as sulky as night; but they had to bow and snigger, and say, ' Certainly, my Lord ; ' but I know what they intend, for all that. They mean to pluck me; that 's the way they '11 do it; for when I said I was nothing to boast of in English, and something worse in French, they grinned and exchanged smiles, as much as to say, ' There 's a rasper he '11 never get over.' " "And what is a messenger, Tony?" "He 's a fellow that carries the despatches over the whole world, — at least, wherever there is civilization enough to have a Minister or an Envoy. He starts off from Downing Street with half-a-dozen great bags as tall as me, and he drops one at Paris, another at Munich, another at Turin, and perhaps the next at Timbuctoo. He goes full speed, — regular steeple-chase pace, — and punches the head of the first postmaster that delays him; and as he is well paid, and has nothing to think of but the road, the life is n't such a bad one." "And does it lead to anything; is there any promotion from it? " "Not that I know, except to a pension; but who wants anything better? Who asks for a jollier life than rattling over Europe in all directions at the Queen's expense? Once on a time they were all snobs, or the same thing ; now they are regular swells, who dine with the Minister, and walk into the attaches at billiards or blind hookey ; for the dons saw it was a grand thing to keep the line for younger sons, and have a career where learning might be left out, and brains were only a burden! " "I never heard of such a line of life," said she, gravely. "I had it from the fellows themselves. There were five of them in the waiting-room, tossing for sovereigns, and cursing the first clerk, whoever he is; and they told me 160 TONY BUTLER. they 'd not change with the first secretaries of any legation in P^urope. But who is this, mother, that I see coming down the hill? — he 's no acquaintance of ours, I think?" "Oh, it 's Mr. Maitland, Tony," said she, in some con- fusion ; for she was not always sure in what temper Tony would receive a stranger. "And who may Mr. Maitland be?" "A very charming and a very kind person, too, whose acquaiutance I made since you left this; he brought me books and flowers, and some geranium slips; and, better than all, his own genial company." "Ue 's not much of a sportsman, I see; that short gun he carries is more like a walking-stick than a fowling-piece." And Tony turned his gaze seaward, as though the stranger was not worth a further scrutiny. "They told me I should find you here, madam," said Maitland, as he came forward, with his hat raised, and a pleasant smile on his face. "My son, sir," said the old lady, proudly, — "my son Tony, of whom I have talked to you." "I shall be charmed if Mr. Butler will allow me to take that place in his acquaintance which a sincere interest in him gives me some claim to," said Maitland, approaching Tony, intending to shake his hand, but too cautious to risk a repulse, if it should be meditated. Tony drew himself up haughtily, and said, "I am much honored, sir; but I don't see any reason for such an interest in me." "Oh, Tony," broke in the widow; but Maitland inter- rupted, and said: "It's easy enough to explain. Your mother and myself have grown, in talking over a number of common friends, to fancy that we knew each other long ago. It was, I assure you, a very fascinating delusion for me. I learned to recall some of the most cherished of my early friends, and remember traits in them which had been the delight of my childhood. Pray forgive me, then, if in such a company your figure got mixed up, and I thought or fancied that I knew you." There was a rapid eagerness in the manner he said these words that seemed to vouch for their sincerity; but their -5y'/feSr^:i-^.f^- -' c^/ ^^v// ,i^«^^ i^^i-^ A/'^tr^tr?/^ ^hc>^^.,^/^A cr// ^-^f-i/^i^i^^ -Y?z rn^^ AT THE COTTAGE. 161 only immediate effect was to make Tony very ill at ease and awkward. "Mr. Maitland has not told you, as he might have told you, Tony, that he came here with the offer of a substantial service. He had heard that you were in search of some pursuit or occupation." "Pray, madam, I entreat of you to say nothing of this now ; wait, at least, until Mr. Butler and I shall know more of each other." "A strange sort of a piece you have there," said Tony, in his confusion; for his cheek was scarlet with shame, — "something between an old duelling-pistol and a carbine." "It's a short Tyrol rifle, a peasant's weapon. It's not a very comely piece of ordnance, but it is very true and easy to carry. I bought it from an old chamois-hunter at Maltz ; and I carried it with me this morning with the hope that you would accept it." "Oh, I couldn't think of it; I beg you to excuse me. I 'm much obliged ; in fact, I never do — never did — take a present." "That's true, sir. Tony and I bear our narrow means only because there 's a sort of rugged independence in our natures that saves us from craving for whatever we can do without." "A pretty wide catalogue, too, I assure you," said Tony, laughing, and at once recovering his wonted good-humor. "We have made what the officials call the extraordinaries fill a very small column. There!" cried he, suddenly, "is the sea-gull on that point of rock yonder out of range for your rifle ? " "Nothing near it. Will you try?" asked Maitland, offering the gun. "I 'd rather see you." "I'm something out of practice latterly. I have been leading a town life," said Maitland, as he drew a small eye- glass from his pocket and fixed it in his eye. "Is it that fellow there you mean ? There 's a far better shot to the left, — that large diver that is sitting so calmly on the rolling sea. There he is again." 11 162 TONY BUTLER. "He 's gone now, ^ he has dived," said Tony; "there's nothing harder to hit than one of these birds, — what be- tween the motion of the sea and their own wariness. Some people say that they scent gunpowder." "That fellow shall!" said Maitland, as he fired; for just as the bird emerged from the depth, he sighted him, and with one flutter the creature fell dead on the wave. "A splendid shot; I never saw a finer! " cried Tony, in ecstasy, and with a look of honest admiration at the marks- man. ''I'd have bet ten — ay, twenty — to one you 'd have missed. I 'm not sure I 'd not wager against your doing the same trick again." "You 'd lose your money, then," said Maitland; "at least, if I was rogue enough to take you up." "You must be one of the best shots in Europe, then! " "No; they call me second in the Tyrol. Hans Godrel is the first. "VVe have had many matches together, and he has always beaten me." The presence of a royal prince would not have inspired Tony with the same amount of respect as these few words, uttered negligently and carelessly; and he measured the speaker from head to foot, recognizing for the first time his lithe and well-knit, well-proportioned figure. "I '11 be bound you are a horseman, too?" cried Tony. "If you hadn't praised my shooting, I 'd tell you that I ride better than I shoot." "How I 'd like to have a brush across country with you! " exclaimed Tony, warmly. "What easier? — what so easy? Our friend Sir Arthur has an excellent stable; at least, there is more than one mount for men of our weight. I suspect Mark Lyle will not join us ; but we '11 arrange a match, — a sort of home steeple-chase." '^ I 'd like it well," broke in Tony, "but I have no horses of my own, and I '11 not ride Sir Arthur's." "This same independence of ours has a something about it that won't let us seem very amiable, Mr. Maitland," said the old lady, smiling. "Pardon me, madam; it has an especial attraction for me. 1 have all my life long been a disciple of that school : iiii AT THE COTTAGE. 163 but I must say that in the present case it is not applicable. I have been for the last couple of weeks a guest at Lyle Abbey ; and if I were asked whose name came most often uppermost, and always in terms of praise, 1 should say — your son's." " " I have met with great kindness from Sir Arthur and his family," said Tony, half sternly, half sorrowfully. "I am not likely ever to forget it." "You have not seen them since your return, I think?'' said Maitland, carelessly. "No, sir," broke in the old lady; ''my son has been so full of his travels, and all the great people he met, that we have not got through more than half of his adventures. Indeed, when you came up he was just telling me of an audience he had with a Cabinet Minister — " *'Pooh, pooh, mother! Don't bore Mr. Maitland with these personal details." "I know it is the privilege of friendship to listen to these," said Maitland, "and I am sincerely sorry that I have not such a claim." "Well, sir, you ought to have that claim, were it only in consideration of your own kind offer to Tony." "Oh, pray, madam, do not speak of it," said Maitland, with something nearer confusion than so self-possessed a gentleman was likely to exhibit. "When I spoke of such a project, I was in utter ignorance that Mr. Butler was as much a man of the world as myself, and far and away beyond the reach of any guidance of mine." "What, then, were your intentions regarding me? " asked Tony, in some curiosity. "I entreat of you, madam," said Maitland, eagerly, "to forget all that we said on that subject." "I cannot be so ungrateful, sir. It is but fair and just that Tony should hear of your generous plan. Mr. Maitland thought he 'd just take you abroad — to travel with him — to go about and see the world. He 'd call you his secretary." "His what! " exclaimed Tony, with a burst of laughter. "His what, mother?" "Let me try and explain away, if I can, the presumption 164 TONY BUTLER. of such a project. Not now, however," said Maitland, look- ing at bis watch, "for I have ah-eady overstayed my time; and I have an appointment for this evening, — without you will kindly give me your company for half a mile up the road, and we can talk the matter over together." Tony looked hesitatingly for a moment at his mother; but she said, "To be sure, Tony. I '11 give Mr. Maitland a loan of you for half an hour. Go with him, by all means." AVith all that courtesy of which he was a master, Maitland thanked her for the sacrifice she was making, and took his leave. "You have no objection to walk fast, I hope," said Mait- land; "for I find I am a little behind my time." Tony assented with a nod, and they stepped out briskly; the device of the speed being merely assumed to give Mait- land an opportunity of seeing a little more of his companion before entering upon any serious converse. Tony, however, was as impenetrable in his simplicity as some others are in their depth ; and after two or thi-ee attempts to draw him on to talk of commonplaces, Maitland said abruptly: "You must have thought it a great impertinence on my part to make such a proposal to your mother as she has just told you of ; but the fact was, I had no other way of approaching a very difficult subject, and opening a question which to her, certainly, I could not explain myself fully upon. I heard a good deal about you up at the Abbey, and all that I heard confirmed me in the notion that you were just the man for an enterprise in which I am myself deeply in- terested. However, as I well knew, even if I succeeded in inducing you to become my comrade, it would be neces- sary to have a sort of narrative which would conceal the project from your mother, it occurred to me to get up this sill}^ idea of a secretaryship, which I own freely may have offended you." "Not offended; it only amused me," said Tony, good- humoredly. "I can't imagine a man less fitted for such an office than myself." "I'm not so sure of that," said Maitland, "though I'm quite certain it would be a very unprofitable use to make of AT THE COTTAGE. 165 you. You are, like myself, a man of action ; one to execute and do, and not merely to note and record. The fellows who write history very seldom make it, — isn't that true?" '"I don't know. I can only say I don't think I 'm very likely to do one or the other." "We shall see that. I don't concur in the opinion, but we shall see. It would be rather a tedious process to explain myself fully as to my project, but I '11 give you two or three little volumes." "No, no; don't give me anything to read; if you want me to understand you, tell it out plainly, whatever it is." "Here goes, then, and it is not my fault if you don't fully comprehend me; but mind, what I am about to reveal to you is strictly on honor, and never to be divulged to any one. I have your word for this ? " They pressed hands, and he continued: "There is a government on the Continent so undermined by secret treachery that it can no longer rely upon its own arms for defence, but is driven to enlist in its cause the brave and adventurous spirits of other countries, — men who, averse to ignoble callings or monotonous labor, would rather risk life than reduce it to the mere condition of daily drudgery. To this government, which in principle has all my sympathies, I have devoted all that I have of for- tune, hope, or personal energy. I have, in a word, thrown my whole future into its cause. 1 have its confidence in return ; and I am enabled not only to offer a high career and a noble sphere of action, but all that the world calls great rewards, to those whom I may select to join me in its defence." "Is it France?" asked Tony; and Maitland had to bite his lip to repress a smile at such a question. "No, it is not France," said he, calmly; "for France, under any rule, I 'd not shed one drop of my blood." "Nor I, neither! " cried Tony. "I hate Frenchmen; my father hated them, and taught me to do the same." "So far from enlisting you to serve France, it is more than probable that in the cause I speak of you '11 find your- self arrayed against Frenchmen." 166 TONY BUTLER. "All right; I 'd do that with a heart and a half; but what is the State? Is it Austria? — is it Russia?" "Neither. If you only give me to believe that you listen favorably to my plau, you shall hear everything ; and I '11 tell you, besides, what I shall offer to you, personally, — the command of a company in an Irish regiment, with the cer- tainty of rapid advancement, and ample means to supply yourself with all that your position requires. Is that sufficient?" "Quite so, if I like the cause I 'm to fight for." "I'll engage to satisfy you on that head. You need but read the names of those of our own countrymen who adopt it, to be convinced that it is a high and a holy cause. I don't suppose you have studied very deeply that great issue which our century is about to tr}^, — the cause of order versus anarchy, — the right to rule of the good, the virtuous, and the enlightened, against the tyranny of the unlettered, the degraded, and the base." "I know nothing about it." "Well, I '11 tax your patience some day to listen to it all from me ; for the present what say you to my plan ? " "I rather like it. If it had only come last week, I don't think I could have refused it." "And why last week? " " Because I have got a promise of an appointment since that." " Of what nature, — a commission in the army ? " "No," said he, shaking his head. "They 're not going to make a clerk of a fellow like you, I trust?" "They 'd be sorely disappointed if they did." "Well, what are they going to do with you?" "Oh, it's nothing very high and mighty. I am to be what they call a Queen's Messenger." "Under the Foreign Office?" "Yes." " Not bad things these appointments, — that is to say, gentlemen hold them, and contrive to live on them. How they do so it 's not very easy to say; but the fact is there, and not to be questioned." AT THE COTTAGE. 167 This speech, a random shot as it was, hit the mark ; and Maitlaud saw that Tony winced under it, and he went on. " The worst is, however, that these things lead to nothing. If a man takes to the h\w, he dreams of the Great Seal, or, at least, of the bench. If he be a soldier, he is sure to scribble his name with ' lieutenant-general ' before it. One always has an eye to the upper branches, whatever be the tree; but this messenger affair is a mere bush, w'hich does not admit of climbing. Last of all, it would never do for you." "And why not do for me? " asked Tony, half fiercely. "Simply because you could not reduce 3'ourself to the mere level of a piece of mechanism, — a thing wound up at Downing Street, to go ' down ' as it reached Vienna. To you life should present, with its changes of fortune, its variety, its adventures, and its rewards. Men like you confront dangers, but are alwa^^s conquered by mere drudgery. Am 1 right ? " "Perhaps there is something in that." "Don't fancy that I am talking at hazard; I have myself felt the very thing I am telling you of; and I could no more have begun life as a Cabinet postboy, than I could have taken to stone-breaking." "You seem to forget that there is a class of people in this world whom a wise proverb declares are not to be choosers." "There never was a sillier adage. It assumes that be- cause a man is poor he must remain poor. It presumes to affirm that no one can alter his condition. And who are the successful in life? The men who have energy to will it, — the felloe's who choose their place, and insist upon taking it. Let me assure you, Butler, you are one of these, if you could only throw off your humility and believe it. Only resolve to join us, and I '11 give you any odds you like that I am a true prophet; at all events, turn it over in your mind; give it a fair consideration, — of course, I mean your own consideration, for it is one of those things a man cannot consult his mother upon; and when we meet again, which will not be for a few da^^s, as I leave for a short absence to-morrow, you '11 give me your answer." "What day do you expect to be back here?'* 168 TONY BUTLER. "I hope, by Saturday; indeed, I can safely say by Saturday." " By that time I shall have made up my mind. Good- bye." "The mind is made up already," muttered Maitland, as he moved away, — "I have him." CHAPTER XVin. ON THE ROAD. A GREAT moralist and a profound thinker has left it on record that there were few pleasanter sensations than those of being whirled rapidly along a good road at the top speed of a pair of posters. Whether, had he lived in our age of express trains, the " rail " might not have qualified the judgment is not so sure. One thing is, however, certain, — the charm of a brisk drive on a fine breezy morning, along a bold coast, with a very beautiful woman for a companion, is one that belongs to all eras, independent of broad gauges and narrow, and deriving none of its enjoyment from steam or science. Maitland was to know this now in all its ecstasy, as he drove off from Lyle Abbey with Mrs. Trafford. There was something of gala in the equipage, — the four dappled grays with pink roses at their heads, the smartly dressed ^servants, and, more than all, the lovely widow herself, most becomingly dressed in a costume which, by favor of the climate, could combine furs with lace, — that forcibly struck him as resem- bling the accompaniments of a wedding ; and he smiled at the pleasant conceit. '^ What is it amuses you, Mr. Maitland? " said she, unable to repress her curiosity. " I am afraid to tell you, — that is, I might have told you a moment ago, but I can't now." " Perhaps I guess it?" " I don't think so." " Xo matter; let us talk of something else. Isn't that a very^beautiful little bay? It was a fancy of mine once to build a cottage there. You can see the spot from here, to the left of those three rocks." 170 TONY BUTLER. ''Yes ; but there are walls there, — ruins, I think." '' No, not exactly ruins. They were the outer walls of my intended villa, which I abandoned after I had begun it ; and there they stand, — accusers of a change of mind, sad re- minders of other days and their projects." "Were they very pleasant days that you sigh over them, or are they sad reminiscences ? " "Both one and the other. I thought it would be such a nice thing to retire from the world and all its vanities, and live there ver^^ secluded and forgotten." " And how long ago was this? " " Oh, very long ago, — fully a year and a half." " Indeed ! " cried he, with a well- feigned astonishment. "Yes," said she, resuming. "I was very tired of being flattered and feted, and what people call ' spoiled ; ' for it is by no means remembered how much amusement is afforded to those who play the part of " spoilers ' in the wilfulness and caprice they excite ; and so I thought, ' I '11 show you all how ver}' eas}^ it is to live without you. I '11 let you see that I can exist without j^our homage.' " " And you really fancied this? " " You ask as if you thought the thing incredible." " Only difficult, — not impossible." " T never intended total isolation, mind. 1 'd have had my intimates, say two or three, — certainly not more, — dear friends, to come and go and stay as they pleased." "And do you know how j^ou 'd have passed your time, or shall I tell you? " " Yes. Let me hear your version of it." " In talking incessantly of that very world you had quitted, in greedily devouring all its scandals, and canvassing all its sins, — criticising, very possibly, its shortcomings and con- demning its frivolities ; but still following with a wistful eye all its doings, and secretly longing to be in the thick of them." " Oh, how wrong you are, how totally wrong! l^ou know very little about him who would have been m}^ chief adviser and Grand Vizier." " And who, pray, would have been so fortunate as to fill that post?" ON THE ROAD. 171 *' The son of that old lady to whom you devoted so many mornings, — the playfellow of long ago, Tony Butler." '' Indeed, I only made his acquaintance yesterday, and it would be rash to speak on such a short experience ; but I may be permitted to ask, has he that store of resources which enliven solitude? is he so full of life's experiences that he can afford to retire from the world and live on the interest of his knowledge of mankind?" " He knows nothing whatever of what is called life, — at least what Mr. Maitland would call life. He is the most simple-hearted young fellow in the world, with the finest nature, and the most generous." " What would I not give for a friend who would grow so enthusiastic about me ! " '' Are you so sure you'd deserve it? " *' If I did, there would be no merit in the praise. Credit means trust for what one may or may not have." '' Well, I am speaking of Tony as I know him ; and, true to the adage, there he is, coming down the hill. Pull up, George." '' Mr. Butler's making me a sign, ma'am, not to stop till I reach the top of the hill." The moment after, the spanking team stood champing their bits and tossing their manes on the crest of the ridge. " Come here, Tony, and be scolded ! " cried JMrs. Trafford ; while the young fellow, instead of approaching the carriage, busied himself about the horses. " Wait a moment till I let down their heads. How could you have suffered them to come up the long hill with the bearing-reins on, Alice?" cried he. " So, then, it is I that am to have the scolding," said she, in a whisper; then added aloud, "Come here and beg par- don. I 'm not sure you '11 get it, for your shameful desertion of us. Where have you been, sir? and why have not you reported yourself on your return?" Tony came up to the side of the carriage with an attempt at swagger that only increased his own confusion, and made him blush deeply. No sooner, however, had he seen Mait- land, of whose presence up to that he had been ignorant, 172 TONY BUTLER. than he grew pale, and bad to steady himself by catching hold of the door. ''I see you are ashamed," said she, " but I '11 keep you over for sentence. Meanwhile, let me present you to Mr. Maitland." " I know him," said Tony, gulping out the words. "Yes," chimed in Maitland, ''we made acquaintance yesterday; and if Mr. Butler be but of my mind, it will not be a mere passing knowledge we shall have of each other." " Get in, Tony, and come a mile or two with us. ITou know all the short cuts in the mountains, and can get back easily." "There's the short cut I mean to take now," said Tony, sternly, as he pointed to a path that led down to the sea- shore. "I am going home." " Y"es, sir," resumed she, with a well-feigned air of sever- ity ; " but mine is a command." "I have left the service, — I have taken my discharge," said he, with a forced laugh. "At least, you ought to quit with honor, — not as a de- serter," said she, softly but sadh\ "Perhaps he could not trust his resolution, if he were to see again the old flag he had served under," said Maitland. "Who made you the exponent of what I felt, sir?" said he, savagely. "I don't remember that in our one single conversation we touched on these things." " Tony ! *' cried Alice, in a low voice, full of deep feeling and sorrow, — " Tony ! " "Good-bye, Alice; I'm sorry to have detained you. but I thought — I don't know what I thought. Remember me to Bella, — good-bye ! " He turned away ; then suddenly, as if remembering himself, wheeled round and said, "Good- morning, sir," with a short quick nod of his head. The moment after he had sprung over the low wall at the road- side, and was soon lost to view in the tall ferns. "How changed he is ! I declare I can scarcely recognize him," said Mrs. Trafford. as they resumed their journey. " He used to be the gentlest, easiest, and softest of all natures, — never put out, never crossed by anything." ON THE ROAD. 173 *' And so I 've no doubt you 'd have found him to-day if I had not been here." *' What do you mean ? " " Surely you remarked the sudden change that came over his face when he saw me. He thought you were alone. At all events, he never speculated on finding me at your side." "Indeed!" said she, with an air of half-offended pride; "and are you reputed to be such a very dangerous person that to drive out with you should inspire all this terror? " "I don't believe I am," said Maitland, laughing; "but perhaps your rustic friend might be pardoned if he thought so." "How very subtle that is! Even in your humility you contrive to shoot a bolt at poor Tony." " And why poor? Is he poor who is so rich in defenders? Is it a sign of poverty when a man can afford to dispense with all the restraints that attach to others, and say and do what he likes, with the certainty that it will all be submitted to? I call that wealth unbounded, — at least, it is the one prize that money confers ; and if one can have it without the dross, I 'd say. Give me the privilege and keep the title- deeds." "Mr. Maitland," said she, gravely, "Tony Butler is not in the least like what you would represent him. In my life I never knew any one so full of consideration for others." "Go on," said he, laughing. "It's only another gold- mine of his you are displaying before me. Has he any other gifts or graces?" "He has a store of good qualities, Mr. Maitland; they are not, perhaps, very showy ones." "Like those of some other of our acquaintance," added he, as if finishing her speech for her. " My dear Mrs. Trafford, I would not disparage your early friend — your once playfellow — for the world. Indeed, I feel, if life could be like a half-holiday from school, he 'd be an admi- rable companion to pass it with ; the misfortune is that these men must take their places in the common tourna- ment with the rest of us, and then they are not so cer- 174 TONY BUTLER. taiu of making a distinguished figure as when seen in the old playground with bat and ball and wicket." ' ' You mean that such a man as Tony Butler will not be likely to make a great career in life?" His reply was a shrug of the shoulders. "And why not, pray?" asked she, defiantly. "What if you were to ask Mark this question? Let him give you his impressions on this theme." "I see what it is," cried she, warmly. "You two fine gentlemen have conspired against this poor simple boy, — for really, in all dealings with the world, he is a boy; and you would like us to believe that if we saw him under other circumstances and with other surroundings, we should be actually ashamed of him. Now, Mr. Maitland, I resent this supposition at once, and I tell you frankly I am very proud of his friendship." " Y"ou are pushing me to the verge of a great indiscre- tion ; in fact, you have made it impossible for me to avoid it," said he, seriously. " I must now trust you with a secret, or what I meant to be one. Here it is. Of course, what I am about to tell you is strictly to go no further, — never, never to be divulged. It is partly on this young man's account — chiefly so — that I am in Ireland. A friend of mine — that same Caffarelli of whom you heard — was commissioned by a very eccentric old Englishman who lives abroad, to learn if he could hear some tidings of this young Butler, — what sort of person he was, how brought up, how educated, how disciplined. The inquirj^ came from the desire of a person very able indeed to befriend him materially. The old man I speak of is the elder brother of Butler's father ; very rich and very influential. This old man, I suppose, repenting of some harshness or other to his brother in former days, wants to see Tony, — wants to judge of him for himself, — wants, in fact, without disclosing the relationship between them, to pronounce whether this young fellow is one to whom he could rightfully bequeath a con- siderable fortune, and place before the world as the head of an honored house ; but he wants to do this without exciting hopes or expectations, or risking, perhaps, disappointments. Now, I know very well by repute something of this eccen- ON THE ROAD. 175 trie old man, whose loug life in the diplomatic service has made him fifty times more lenient to a moral delinquency than to a solecism in manners, and who could forgive the one and never the other. If he were to see your diamond in the rough, he 'd never contemplate the task of polishing, — he 'd simply say, ' This is not what I looked for ; I don't want a gamekeeper, or a boatman, or a horse-breaker.' " "Oh, Mr. Maitland!" ''Hear me out. I am representing, and very faithfully representing, another ; he 'd say this more strongly too than I have, and he 'd leave him there. Now, I 'm not very cer- tain that he 'd be wrong ; permit me to finish. I mean to say that in all that regards what the old Minister-plenipoten- tiary acknowledges to be life, Master Tony would not shine. The solid qualities you dwelt on so favorably are like rough carvings ; they are not meant for gilding. Now, seeing the deep interest you and all your family take in this youth, and feeling as I do a sincere regard for the old lady his mother, in whose society I. have passed two or three de- lightful mornings, I conceived a sort of project which might possibly give the young fellow a good chance of success. I thought of taking him abroad, — on the Con- tinent, — showing him something of life and the world in a sphere in which he had not yet seen it; letting him see for himself the value men set upon tact and address, and making him feel that these are the common coinage daily intercourse requires, while higher qualities are title-deeds that the world only calls for on emergencies." "But you could never have persuaded him to such a position of dependence." "I'd have called him my private secretary; I'd have treated him as my equal." "It was very generous; it was nobly generous." " When I thought I had made him presentable anywhere, — and it would not take long to do so — I'd have con- trived to bring him under his uncle's notice, — as a stranger, of course : if the effect were favorable, well and good ; if it proved a failure, there was neither disappointment nor chagrin. Mrs. Butler gave me a half assent, and I was on the good road with her son till this morning, when that unlucky meeting has, I suspect, spoiled everythina:.*' 176 TONY BUTLEK. *' But why should it?" " AVhy should anything happen as men's passions or inipulses decide it? Why should one man be jealous of the good fortune that another man has not won?" She turned away her head and was silent. '' I 'd not have told you one word of this, Mrs. Trafford, if I had not been so sore pressed that I could n't afford to let you, while defending your friend, accuse me of want of gener- osity and unfairness. Let me own it frankly, — I was piqued by all your praises of this young man ; they sounded so like insidious criticisms on others less fortunate in your favor." "As if the great Mr. Maitland could care for any judg- ments of mine ! " said she ; and there was in her voice and manner a strange blending of levity and seriousness. " They are the judgments that he cares most for in all the world," said he, eagerly. " To have heard from your lips one half the praise, one tenth part of the interest you so lately bestowed on that young man — " "Where are we going, George? What river is this?" exclaimed she, suddenly. " To Tilney Park, ma'am; this is the Larne." " But it 's the upper road, and I told you to take the lower road, by Captain Graham's." " No, ma'am; you only said Tilney." " Is it possible? and did n't you tell him, Mr. Maitland?" "I? I knew nothing of the road. To tell you the truth," added he, in a whisper, " I cared very little where it led, so long as I sat at your side." " Very flattering, indeed ! Have we passed the turn to the lower road very far, George ? " " Yes, ma'am ; it's a good five miles behind us, and a bad bit of road too, — all fresh stones." "And you were so anxious to call at the cottage?" said she, addressing ]\Iaitland, with a smile of some significance. " Nothing of the kind. I made some sort of silly promise to make a visit as I passed. I 'm sure I don't know why, or to gratify whom." "Oh, cruel Mr. Maitland, false Mr. Maitland! how can you say this ? But are we to go back ? — that is the question ; ON THE ROAD. 177 for I see George is very impatient, and trying to make the horses the same." *' Of course not. Go back ! it was all the coachman's fault, — took the wrong turning, and never discovered his blunder till we were — I don't know where." '' Tilney, George, — go on," said she ; then turning to Maitland, '* and do you imagine that the charming Sally Graham or the fascinating Rebecca will understand such flimsy excuses as these, or that the sturdy old Commodore will put up with them ? " '^ T hope so, for their sakes at least; for it will save them a world of trouble to do so." "Ungrateful as well as perfidious! You were a great favorite with the Grahams. Beck told me, the night before they left the Abbey, that you were the only elegant — ex- quisite she called it — she ever met that was n't a fool." " The praise was not extravagant. I don't feel my cheek growing hot under it." "And Sally said that if she had not seen with her own eyes, she 'd never have believed that a man with such a diamond ring, and such wonderful pendants to his watch, could hook an eight-pound salmon, and bring him to land." "That indeed touches me," said he, laying his hand over his heart. " And old Graham himself declared to my father that if one of his girls had a fancy that way, though you were n't exactly his st3^le of man, nor precisely what he'd choose — " " Do spare me. I beseech you, have some pity on me." "That he'd not set himself against it; and that, in fact, with a good certificate as to character, and the approved guarantee of respectable people, who had known you some years — " " I implore you to stop." " Of course I'll stop when you tell me the theme is one too delicate to follow up ; but, like all the world, you let one run into every sort of indiscretion, and only cry Halt when it is too late to retire. The Grahams, however, are excellent people, — old G. G., as they call him, a distinguished officer. He cut out somebody or something from under the guns of a 12 178 TONY BUTLER. Spauisli fort, and the girls have refused — let me see whom they have not refused ; but I '11 make them tell you, for we 'II certainly call there ou our way back." The malicious drollery with which she poured out all this had heightened her color and given increased brilliancy to her eyes. Instead of the languid delicacy which usually marked her features, they shone now with animation and excitement, and became in consequence far more beauti- ful. So striking was the change that Maitland paid little attention to the words, while he gazed with rapture at the speaker. It must have been a very palpable admiration he bestowed, for she drew down her veil with an impatient jerk of the hand, and said, "Well, sir, doesn't this arrangement suit you, or would you rather make your visit to Port-Graham alone? " "I almost think I would," said he, laughing. "I suspect it would be safer." " Oh, now that I know your intentions, — that you have made me your confidante, — you '11 see that I can be a marvel of discretion." '^Put up your veil again, and you may be as mallgne as you please." "There! yonder is Tiluey," said she, hastily, "where you see those fine trees. Are the horses distressed, George?" "Well, ma'am, they 've had enough of it." "I mean, are they too tired to go round by the river-side and the old gate ? " "It's a good two miles round, ma'am." "Oh, I know what that means," said she, in a whisper. "If there should be anything amiss for the next three months, it will be that cruel day's work down at Tilney will be charged with it. Go in by the new lodge," added she, aloud; "and as they have innumerable carriages here, Mr. Maitland, I '11 take you a drive over there to-morrow. It 's a very nice thing, is n't it, to be as rich as old Mrs. Maxwell, and to be always playing the part of ' Good Fairy, ' giving splendid banquets, delicious little country-parties to all the world; offering horses to ride, boats to sail in? What are you looking at so fixedly?" ON THE ROAD. 179 "I think I recognize a conveyance I once had the hap- piness to travel in. Is n't that the Graham equipage before us ? " "I declare, it is!" cried she, joyfully. "Oh, lucky Mr. Maitland; they are going to Tilney." As she spoke, George, indignant at being dusted by a shambling old mare with long fetlocks, gathered up his team in hand, and sent them "spinning" past the lumbering jaunting-car, giving the Grahams only time to recognize the carriage and its two occupants. CHAPTER XIX. Tony's troubles. When Tony Butler met Mrs. Trafford's carriage, he was on his road, by a cross path, to the back entrance of Lyle Abbey. It was not his intention to pay a visit there at that moment, though he was resolved to do so later. His present errand was to convey a letter he had written to Maitland, accepting the proposal of the day before. He had not closed his eyes all night thinking of it. There was a captivation in its promise of adventure that he felt to be irresistible. He knew too well the defects of his nature and of his intelligence not to be aware that, in any of the ordinary and recognized paths in life, he must see himself overtaken and left behind by almost all. What were called the learned professions were strictly debarred to him. Had he even the means for the study he would not have the qual- ities to pursue them. He did not feel that he could take willingly to a trade; as little could he be a clerk. To be sure, he had obtained this appointment as messenger, but how disparagingly Maitland had spoken of it! He said, it is true they "weren't bad things," that "gentlemen somehow or other managed to live on them ; " but he hinted that these were gentlemen whose knowledge of life had taught them a variety of little accomplishments, — such as whist, billiards, and ecarte^ — which form the traffic of societ}^, and a very profitable traffic too, to him who knows a little more of them than his neighbors. Worst of all, it was a career, Maitland said, that led to nothing. You can become an "old messenger," if you live long enough, but nothing more; and he pictured the life of a traveller who had lost every interest in the road he journeyed, — who, in fact, only TONY'S TROUBLES. ' 181 thought of it with reference to the time it occupied, — as one of the dreariest of all imaginable things. "This monot- ony," added he, "will do for the fellow who has seen every- thing and done everything ; not for the fresh spirit of youth, eager to taste, to learn, and to enjoy. A man of your stamp ought to have a wider and better field, — a sphere wherein his very vitality will have fair play. Try it; follow it if you can, Butler," said he; "but I'm much mistaken in you, if you '11 be satisfied to sit down with a station that only makes you a penny-postman magnified." Very few of us have courage to bear such a test as this, — to hear the line we are about to take, the service we are about to enter, the colony we are about to sail for, disparaged, un- moved. The unknown has always enough of terror about it without the dark forebodings of an evil prophet. "I like Maitland's project better," said Tony, after a long night's refiection. "At all events, it 's the sort of thing to suit me. If I should come to grief, it will be a sad day for poor mother; but the same might happen to me when carrying a despatch-bag. I think he ought to have been more explicit, and let me hear for whom I am to fight, though, perhaps, it does n't much signify. I could fight for any one but Yankees! I think I '11 say ' done.' This Mait- land is a great ' Don ; ' has, apparently, fortune and station. It can't be a mistake to sail in the same boat with him, I'll certainly say ' done.'" With this resolve he jumped out of bed, and wrote the following brief note: — " BuRNSiDE, Tuesday morning. " Dear Sir, — I Ml not take the three days you gave me to consider your offer ; I accept it at once. — Yours truly, " ToxY Butler. "Norman Maitland, Esq., Lyle Abbey." "I'll have to write to Skeffy," said he to himself, "and say, you may tell my noble patron that I don't want the messengership, and that when next I call at the Office I '11 kick Willis for nothing. I don't suppose that this is the formal way of resigning; but I take it they '11 not be sorry to be quit of me, and it will spare the two old coves in 182 TONY BUTLER. white cravats all the trouble of having me plucked at the examination. Poor Skeffy won't be pleased, though; he was to have ' coached me ' in foreign tongues and the Rule of Three. Well, I 'm glad I 'm in for a line of life where nobody asks about Colenso's Arithmetic, nor has so much as heard of Ollendorf's Method. Oh dear! how much hap- pier the world must have been when people were n't so confoundedly well informed ! — so awfully brimful of all knowledge as they now are! In those pleasant days, instead of being a black sheep, I 'd have been pretty much like the rest of the flock." The speculations on this topic — this golden age of igno- rance and bliss — occupied him all the way, as he walked over the hills to leave his letter at the gate-lodge for Mr. Maitlaud. Resisting all the lodge-keeper's inducements to talk, — for he was an old friend of Tony's, and wanted much to know where he had been and what doing of late, and why he was n't up at the Abbey every day as of yore, — Tony refused to hear of all the sad consequences that had followed on his absence; how the " two three-year-olds had gone back in their training;" how "Piper wouldn't let a saddle be put on his back ; " how the carp were all dying in the new pond, nobody knew why, — there was even something gone wrong with the sun-dial over the stable, as though the sun himself had taken his departure in dudgeon, and would n't look straight on the spot since. These were, with many more, shouted after him as he turned away, while he, laughing, called out, "It will be all right in a day or two. Mat. I '11 see to everything soon." "That I '11 not," muttered he to himself when alone. "The smart hussar — the brave Captain — may tr}^ his hand now. I 'd like to see him on Piper. I only wish that he may mount him with the saddle tightly girthed; and if he does n't cut a somerset over his head, my name is n't Tony! Let us see, too, what he '11 do with those young dogs; they 're wild enough by this time! I take it he 's too great a swell to know anything about gardening or grafting ; so much the worse for my Lady's flower-pot! There 's one thing I 'd like to be able to do every morning of my life," TONY'S TROUBLES. 183 thought he, in sadder mood, — "just to give Alice's chest- nut mare one canter, to make her neck flexible and her mouth light, and to throw her back on her haunches. And then, if I could only see Alice on her! just to see her as she bends down over the mane and pats the mare's shoulder to coax her not to buck-leap! There never was a picture that equalled it! the mare snorting and with eyes flashing, and Alice all the while caressing her, and saying, ' How silly you are, Maida! come, now, do be gentle! ' " These thoughts set others in motion, — the happy, happy days of long ago; the wild, half-reckless gallops over the fern-clad hills in the clear bright days of winter; or the still more delightful saunterings of a summer's eve on the sea-shore ! — none of them — not one — ever to come back again. It was just as his reveries had reached so far that he caught sight of the four dappled grays — they were Alice's own — swinging smoothly along in that long easy stride by which thoroughbreds persuade you that work is no distress to them. It was only as they breasted the hill that he saw that the bearing-reins were not let down, — a violation of a precept on which he was inexorable; and he hastened, with all the speed he could, to catch them ere they gained the crest of the ridge. To say the truth, Tony was somewhat ashamed of himself for his long absence from the Abbey. If it was not ingrat- itude, it had a look of it. They knew nothing of what had passed between Mark and himself, and could only pronounce upon his conduct as fickleness, or worse; and he was glad of an opportunity to meet them less formally than by a regular morning visit. Either Alice and her sister, or Alice alone, were certain to be in the carriage; for Lady Lyle was too timid to trust herself with those "grays;" and so he bounded forward, his heart full of expectancy, and burning once more to hear that voice whose very chidings were as music to him. He was close to the carriage before he saw Maitland, — in- deed, the sight of Alice, as he drew near, had so entranced him that he saw nothing else; but when his eyes did fall on her companion, a pang shot through him as though he had been stabbed. In the raging jealousy of the moment every- 184 TONY BUTLER. thing was forgotten but his passion, — his hatred of that man. He 'd have given his right hand to be able to hurl at him a mortal defiance, to have dared him to the death. Indeed, so far as the insolence of his stare could convey his meaning, it declared an open war between them. Nor did Maitland's attitude assuage this anger; he lay back with a cool assumption of superiority — an air of triumphant satis- faction — that seemed to say, Each of us is in the place that befits him. So overcome was he by passion, that even Alice's invita- tion to get into the carriage sounded like an outrage to his ears. It was bitter enough to cast him off without making him witness the success of another. Maitland's daring to apologize for him — to explain away why he had or had not done this, that, or t' other — was more than his endurance could brook ; and as he hurried away from the spot, dashing recklessly down cliff and crag, and sprang from rock to rock without a thought of the peril, he almost accused himself of cowardice and cold-bloodedness for not having insulted him on the instant, and by some open outrage forced upon him a quarrel from which there could be no retreating. "If I 'd insulted him before her," cried he, "he never could have evaded me by calling me an angry boy." "I'll have no companionship with him, at all events," said he, suddenly checking himself in his speed; "he shall neither be leader nor comrade of mine. I '11 get my letter back before it reach him." With this resolve he turned his steps back again to the Abbey. Although he knew well that he must reach the lodge before they could return from their drive, he hurried along as though his life depended on it. The keeper was out, but Tony dashed into the lodge, and found, as he expected, the letter on the chimney; he tore it into fragments, and turned away. The day was already drawing to a close as he descended the little path to the Burnside, and saw his mother awaiting him in the porch. As he came nearer, he perceived that she held up a letter in her hand. " Something important, Tony dear," cried she. "It is printed at top, ' On H. M.'s Service, ' and marked ' Immediate * underneath. I have been very impatient all the day for your return." TONY'S TROUBLES. 185 Although Tony's mood at the moment did not dispose him to be on the very best terms with the world at large, nor even with himself, he felt a strange sort of vainglorious glow through him at being addressed on a great square- shaped envelope, "On Her Majesty's Service," and with a huge seal, the royal arms affixed. It imparted a sense of self-importance that was very welcome at such a moment. It was a spoonful of brandy to a man not far from fainting. With all this, he did n't like his mother to see how much this gratified or interested him ; and he tossed the letter to one side, and said, "I hope the dinner isn't far off; I'm very hungry." *'It will be on the table in a few minutes, Tony; but let us hear what Her Majesty wants with you." "It 's nothing that won't keep till I have eaten my din- ner, mother; at all events, I don't mean to inquire." "I suppose I may break the seal myself, then," said she, in a half-pique. "If you like, — if you have any curiosity in the matter." "That I have," said she, tearing open the envelope. "Why, it 's nothing, after all, Tony. It 's not from Her Majesty at all. It begins ' Dear Butler. ' " "It's from Skeffy," cried he, taking it from her hands, "and is far more interesting to me than if it came from the Premier." Mrs. Butler sat down, disappointed and sad. It was a reminiscence of long ago, that formally shaped document, with its big seal, reminding her of days when the Colonel — her Colonel — used to receive despatches from the War Office, — grave documents of which he seldom spoke, but whose importance she could read in the thoughtful lines of his face, and which always impressed her with his conse- quence. "Ah, dear!" sighed she, drearily, "who would have thought it ? " So is it very often in this same world of ours, that the outsides of things are only solemn cheats. The orderly, who terrifies the village as he dashes past at speed, is but the bearer of an invitation to dine. The ambassador's bag is filled not with protocols and treaties, but with fish-sauce or pickled walnuts; the little sack — marked "most impor- 186 TONY BUTLER. tant " — being choke-full of Russian cigarettes. Even lawn and lawyers' wigs are occasionally the external coverings to qualities that fall short of absolute wisdom; so that though Mrs. Butler exclaimed, "Who would have thought it?" one more conversant with life would have felt less surprise and less disappointment. A laugh from Tony — almost a hearty laugh — startled her from her musings. "What is it, Tony dear?" asked she, — "what is it that amuses you? " "I'll read it all for you, mother. It's from Skeffy, and you 'd think you heard him talking, it 's so like him. " ' F. O., Sunday morning. "'Dear Butler, — What a fright you have given us all, old fellow, to have levanted so suddenly, leaving your traps with the waiter, as we first thought, but, as we afterwards discovered, exchanging them with one Ror}^ Quin, who, apparently sorry for his bargain, came for three successive mornings to the hotel to find out your present whereabouts.' "Do you understand him, mother? " asked Tony at this. "Partly, — go on." He resumed: " ' Rory, however, would seem to have a private scrape of his own to occupy him now, for I found to-day that a policeman was waiting all the morning to arrest him, of which he seems to have had timely notice, for he did not appear, and "R. 960" says, with much so- lemnity, "he won't come no more." ' " "What does that mean, Tony?" "I can make nothing of it. I hope and trust that I am not the cause of the poor fellow's troubles. I '11 write about this at once. ' More of all this, however, when we meet, which, 1 rejoice to say, will be soon. I have got fourteen days' leave, and am going over to your immediate neigh- borhood, to visit an aunt, or a cousin, or a grandmother, — if she likes, — a certain Mrs. Maxwell of Tilney, who has lots of cash, and no one to leave it to, — five thousand a year in estate; I don't know what in the Threes; and is, they tell me, weighing all her relatives, real or imaginary, in the balance of her esteem, to decide who is to be the Lord of Tilney, and which of us would most worthily represent TONY'S TROUBLES. 187 her name and house. Preaching for a call is nothing to this ; and a C. S. examination is cakes and gingerbread to it. Just fancy a grand competitive dinner of both sexes, and the old lady watching who ate of her favorite dish, or who passed the decanter she "affectioned." Imagine your- self talking, moving, sneezing, smiling, or blowing your nose, with five thousand a year on the issue. Picture to your mind the tortures of a scrutiny that may take in any- thiug, from your complexion to your character, and which, though satisfied with your morals, might discover "some- thiug unpleasing about your mouth." " ' Worst news of all, I hear that the great Norman Mait- land is somewhere in your vicinity, and, of course, will be invited wherever anything is going on. If he cares to do it, I suppose he '11 cut us all out, and that the old lady would rather fancy she made a graceful exit from life if this illus- trious swell were to play chief mourner to her. By the way, do you know the man I 'm talking of? He 's a monstrous clever fellow, and a great mystery to boot. I know him very slightly; indeed, so slightly that I'm not sure he knows me. " ' As it would be invaluable to me to have a word of counsel from you, knowing nothing, or next to nothing, of my dear relative, I mean to start directly for you at once, and have one day with you before I go on to Tilney. Will this bore you, or inconvenience you? Is your house full? Most houses are at this time o' year.' " At this Tony laid down the letter and laughed immoder- ately; not so, however, his mother. She turned her head away, and sat, with her hands closely locked, in silence. "Isn't it good, — isn't it downright droll, mother, to ask if our house be so full of guests we have no room for another? I declare, though it has a sore side to it, the question overcomes me with its absurdity." "That 's not the way I 'm looking at it, Tony," said she, sadly. "But there 's no other way to look at it. If one can't take that view of it, one would — " He stopped suddenly, for he saw the old lady lift her handkerchief to her eyes, and hold it there. "But you are right, mother," said he, 188 TONY BUTLER. quickly. "To bear it well, one need n't laugh at it. At all events, what answer are we to make him ? " " "Finish the letter first." " Ah, this is all about putting him up — anywhere — in a dressing-room or a closet. ' At Carlscourt, last year, they had nothing to give me but a bathroom. They used to quiz me about sleeping in "marble halls," for I lay in the bath.'" "He seems a good-tempered creature," said the old lady, who could not repress a laugh this time. "The best in the world; and such spirits! I wish you saw him do the back-somersault over a chair, or the frog's leap across a table. For all that, mother," said he, with a change of tone, "he's a perfect gentleman; and though he 's very short, — only so high, — he looks a gentleman, too." "I am not likely to forget all his kindness to you, Tony," said she, feelingly. "If we could only receive him suit- ably, I 'd be happy and proud to do it; as it is, however, the man, being a gentleman, will put up all the better with our humble entertainment: so just tell him to come, Tony; but tell him, also, what he 's coming to. His room will be pretty much like the bathroom, and the company he '11 meet afterwards very unlike what he saw at the fine house." "He '11 take all in good part, or I'm much mistaken in him. So here goes for the answer : — "'Dear Skeff, — We live in a cottage with five rooms. We have one maidservant, and we dine at two. If you have courage to face all this, you '11 have the heartiest of welcomes from my mother and your sincere friend, " ' ToxY Butler. " ' The mail will drop you at Coleraine, and I '11 be on the look-out for you every morning from this forward.' "Won't that do, mother?" asked he. "I think you might have done it better; but I suppose you young folk understand each other best in your own fashion, so let it be." CHAPTER XX. THE minister's VISIT. While Tony was absent that morning from home, Mrs. Butler had a visit from Dr. Stewart; he came over, he said, to see Tony, and ask the news of what he had done in Eng- land. "I hope, ma'am," said he, — and there was some- thing di'y and reserved in his manner, — "I hope, ma'am, your son has brought you good tidings of his late journey. A big city is a big temptation, and we dinna want tempta- tions in this world of ours." "I know it well, doctor," said she, with a sigh; "and if it had been any other than Tony — Ah, doctor ! why do you shake your head? you make me think you 've heard some- thing or other. What is it, sir? " "It 's just nothing at all, Mrs. Butler, but your own fears, and very proper fears too they are, for a young lad that goes away from home for the first time in his life, and to such a place too. Ah me ! " cried he, in a sort of apos- trophe, "it 's not so easy to be in grace down about Charing Cross and the Haymarket." "You 're just frightening me, Dr. Stewart; that 's what it is you are doing." "And I say it again, ma'am, it 's yourself is the cause o' it all. But tell me what success he has had, — has he seen Sir Harry Elphinstone ? " "That he has, and seen a greater than Sir Harry; he has come back with a fine place, doctor; he 's to be one of the Queen's — I forget whether they call them couriers or mes- sengers — that bring the state despatches all over the world; and, as poor dear Tony says, it's a place that was made for him, — for they don't want Greek or Latin, or any more book-learning than a country gentleman should have. 190 TONY BUTLER. What are you sighing about, Dr. Stewart? There *s nothing to sigh over getting five, maybe six, hundred a year.'' ''I was not sighing; I w^as only thinkin'. And when is he to begin this new life? " "If you are sighing over the fall it is for a Butler, one of his kith and kin, taking a very humble place, you may just spare your feelings, doctor, for there are others as good as himself in the same employ." "And what does Sir Arthur say to it, ma'am? " asked he, as it were to divert her thoughts into another course. "Well, if you must know. Dr. Stewart," said she, draw- ing herself up and smoothing down her dress with dignity, "we have ventured to take this step without consulting Sir Arthur or any of his family." A somewhat long silence ensued. At last she said : " If Tony was at home, doctor, he 'd tell you how kindly his father's old friend received him, — taking up stories of long ago, and calling him Watty, just as he used to do. And so, if they did not give my poor boy a better place, it was because there was nothing just ready at the moment, per- haps, — or nothing to fit him; for, as Sir Harry said laugh- ingly, ' We can't make you a bishop, I fear.' " "I dinna see anything against it," muttered the old min- ister, not sorry for the chance of a shot against Episcopacy. "I'm thinking. Dr. Stewart," said she, tartly, "that your rheumatism must be troubling you to-day; and, indeed, I 'm ashamed to say I never asked you how the pains were ? " "I might be better, and I might be worse, ma'am," was the qualified reply; and again came a pause. "Tony was saying the other day, doctor," resumed she, "that if you will try a touch of what he calls the white oils." "I'm very much obliged to him, Mrs. Butler; he put a touch of the same white oils on my pony one day, and the beast that was always a lamb before just kicked me over his head when I got into the saddle." "You forget, doctor, you are not a beast of burden yourself." " We 're all beasts of burden, ma'am, — all of us, — evea THE MINISTER'S VISIT. 191 the best, if there be any best! heavy laden wi' our sins, and bent down wi' our transgressions. No, no," added he, with a slight asperity, ''I '11 have none of his white oils." ''Well, you know the proverb, doctor, ' He that winna use the means must bear the moans.' " "'Tis a saying that hasna much sense in it," said the doctor, crankily; "for who's to say when the means is blessed ? " Here was a point that offered so wide a field for discus- sion that the old lady did not dare to make a rejoinder. "I '11 be going to Derry to-morrow, Mrs. Butler," resumed he, "if I can be of any service to you." "Going to Derry, doctor? that 's a long road for you! " "So it is, ma'am; but I'm going to fetch back my dochter Dolly; she's to come by the packet to-morrow evening." " Dolly coming home ! How is that? You did not expect her, did you ? " "Not till I got her letter this morning; and that 's what made me come over to ask if Tony had, maybe, told you something about how she was looking, and what sort of spirits she seemed in; for her letter's very short; only says, ' I 've got a kind of longing to be back again, dear father; as the song says, "It's hame, and it's hame, and it's hame I fain wad be;" and as I know well there will be an open heart and an open door to greet me, I 'm off to- night for Liverpool. ' " " She 's a good girl, and whatever she does it will be surely for the best," said the old lady. "I know it well;" and he wiped his eyes as he spoke. "But I 'm sore troubled to think it 's maybe her health is breaking, and I wanted to ask Tony about her. D' ye re- member, ma'am, how he said she was looking? " Now, If there was anything thoroughly repugnant to the old lady's habits, it was untruthfulness; and yet, as Tony had not mentioned Dolly since his return, her only escape was by a little evasion, saying, "When he wrote to me his first letter from London, doctor, he said, ' I was sorry to find Dolly looking pale, and I thought thin also; besides,' added he, ' they have cut off her pretty brown hair.' " 192 TONY BUTLER. n- "Yes, she told me of that," sighed the doctor. "And in her last note she says again, * Dinna think me a frioht father dear, for it 's growing again, and 1 'm not half so ugly as I was three weeks ago ; ' for the lassie knows it was always a snare to me, and I was ever pleased wi' her bright, cheery face." "And a bright, cheery face it was! " "Ye mind her smile, Mrs. Butler. It was like hearing good news to see it. Her mother had the same." And the old man's lip trembled, and his cheek too, as a heavy tear rolled slowly down it. "Did it ever strike you, ma'am," added he, in a calmer tone, "that there's natures in this world gi'en to us just to heal the affections, as there are herbs and plants sent to cure our bodily ailments?" "It's a blessed thought, doctor." "Eh, ma'am, it's more than a thought; it's a solemn truth. But I 'm staying o'er-long; I 've to go over to John Black's and see his sister before I leave; and I 'd like, too, to say a word o' comfort to auld Matty McClintock." "Y^ou '11 be back for the Sabbath, doctor?" asked she. " Wi' His help and blessing, ma'am." " I was thinking if maybe you and dear Dolly would come and take dinner here — Saturday — there will be nothing ready for you at home ; and it would be such a pleasure to Tony before he goes away." *' I thank you heartily, Mrs. Butler; but our first evening under the auld roof we must e'en have it by ourselves. You '11 no think the worse o' us for this, I am sure, ma'am." "Certainly not; then shall we say Monday? Dolly will be rested by that time, and Tony talks of leaving me so soon." " I '11 just, wi' your good leave — I '11 just wait till I see Dolly ; for maybe she '11 no be ower-strong when she comes. There 's nothing I can do for you in Derry, is there ? " " Nothing, sir, — nothing that I think of at this moment," said she, coldly ; for the doctor's refusal of her second in- vitation had piqued her pride, and whether it was from his depression or some other cause, the doctor himself seemed less cordial than was his wont, and took his leave with more ceremony than usual. THE MINISTER'S VISIT. 193 The old lady watched him till he was out of sight, sorely perplexed to divine whether he had really unburdened his conscience of all he had to say, or had yet something on his mind unrevealed. Her kindly nature, however, in the end, mastered all other thoughts ; and as she sat down once more to her knitting, she muttered, ''Poor man! it's a sore stroke of poverty when the sight of one's only child coming back to them brings the sense of distress and want with it." The words were not well uttered when she saw Ton}- coming up the little pathway ; he was striding along at his own strong pace, but his hat was drawn down over his brows, and he neither looked right nor left as he went. "Did you meet the doctor, Tony?" said she, as she opened the door for him. •'No; how should I meet him? I've not been to the Burnside." " But he has only left the house this minute, — you must have passed each other." '' I came down the cliff. I was taking a short cut," said he, as he threw himself into a seat, evidently tired and weary. " He has been here to say that he 's off for Derry to-night with the mail to meet Dolly." ''To meet Dolly!" "Yes, she's coming back; and the doctor cannot say why, for she's over that fever she had, and getting stronger every day ; and yet she writes, ' You must come and fetch me from Derry, father, for I 'm coming home to you.' And the old man is sore distressed to make out whether she 's ill again, or what 's the meaning of it. And he thought, if he saw you, it was just possible you could tell him some- thing." " What could I tell him? Why should he imagine I could tell him ? " said Tony, as a deep crimson flush covered his face. "Only how she was looking, Tony, and whether you thought she seemed happy where she was living, and if the folk looked kind to her." "I thought she looked very sickly, and the people about her — the woman at least — not over-kind. I'm not very 13 194 TONY BUTLER. sure, too, that Dolly herself was n't of my mind, though she did n't say so. Poor girl ! " "It's the poor old father I pity the most, Tony; he's not far off seventy, if he 's not over it ; and sore work he finds it keeping body and soul together ; and now he has the poor sick lassie come back to him, wanting many a little comfort, belike, that he can't afford her. Ah, dear ! is n't there a deal of misery in this life ? " " Except for the rich," said Tony, with an almost savage energy. " They certainly have fine times of it. I saw that fellow, Maitland, about an hour ago, lolling beside Alice Lyle — Trafford, I mean, in her carriage, as if he owned the equipage and all it contained; and why? Just because he is rich." " He's a fine handsome man, Tony, and has fine manners, and I would not call him a fellow." " 1 would, then ; and if he only gives me the chance, I'll call him a harder name to his face." " Tony, Tony, how can 3^ou speak so of one that wanted to befriend you ? " " Befriend me, mother I You make me ashamed to hear 3^ou say such a word. Befriend me ! " "What's the matter with you, Tony? Y^ou are not talk- ing, no, nor looking like 3^ourself. What's befallen you, my dear Tony? You went out this morning so gay and light- hearted, it made me cheery to see you. Ay, and I did what I 've not done for many a day, I sang to myself over my work without knowing it, and now you 're come back as dark as night. What's in it, my bo}'? tell 3^our poor old mother. What's in it?" " There's nothing in it, my own little mother, except that I 'm a good-for-nothing, discontented dog, that sees himself in a very shabby condition without having the pluck to try and get out of it. I sa}^ mother, when are we to begin our lessons? That confounded river Danube goes between me and my rest. Whether it rises in the Black Sea or the Black Forest is just as great a puzzle to me as whether the word is spelt ' peo ' or ' poe ' in ' people.' " "Oh, Tony!" " It 's all very well saying, ' Oh, Tony ; ' but I tell you, THE MINISTER'S VISIT. 195 mother, a stupid fellow ought never to be told two ways for anything : never say to him, you can do it in this fashion or in that ; but, there 's the road straight before you ; take care you never go off it." " Mr. Maitland made that same remark to me last week.'* ** Then don't tell it to me, for I hate him. By the way, there's that gun of his. I forgot to take it back to Lyle Abbey. I think it was precious cool in him to suppose a stranger — a perfect stranger, as I am — would accept a present from him." "' If you are going to the Abbe}^, Tony, I wish 3'ou 'd leave these books there, and thank my Lady for all her kind attentions to me ; and say a word to Sir Arthur, too, to excuse my not seeing him when he called. Tell Gregg, the gardener, not to send me any more vegetables now ; it 's the scarce season, and they '11 be wanting them for themselves ; and if you should chance to see Mr. Lockyer, the steward, just mention to him that the new sluice is just no good at all, and when the rain comes heavy, and the mill is not working, the water comes up to the kitchen door. Are you minding me, Tony?" " I 'm not sure that I am," said he, moodily, as he stood examining the lock of the well-finished rifle. " I was to tell Lady Lyle something about cabbages or the mill-race, — which was it? " " You are not to make a fool of yourself, Tony," said she, half vexed and half amused. "I'll keep my message for another day." " And you '11 do well," said he ; " besides, I 'm not very sure that I '11 go further than the gate-lodge ; " and so say- ing, he took his hat, and, with the rifle on his shoulder, strolled out of the room. " Ah ! he 's more like his father every day ! " sighed she, as she looked after him ; and if there was pride in the memory, there was some pain also. CHAPTER XXI. A COMFORTABLE COUNTRY-HOUSE. If a cordial host and a graceful hostess can throw a won- drous charm over the hospitalities of a house, there is a feature in those houses where neither host nor hostess is felt which contributes largely to the enjoyment of the assembled company. I suspect, indeed, that republics work more smoothly domestically than nationally. Tilney was certainly a case in point. Mrs. Maxwell was indeed the owner, — the demesne, the stables, the horses, the gardens, the fish-ponds, were all hers ; but somehow none of the persons under her roof felt themselves her guests. It was an establishment in which each lived as he liked, gave his own orders, and felt very possibly more at home, in the pleasant sense of the phrase, than in his own house. Dinner alone was a "fix- ture ; " everything else was at the caprice of each. The old lady herself was believed to take great pride in the perfect freedom her guests enjoyed ; and there was a story current of a whole family who partook of her hospitalities for three weeks, meeting her once afterwards in a watering-place, and only recognizing her as an old woman they saw at Tilney. Other tales there were of free comments of strangers made upon the household, the dinners, and such-like to herself, in ignorance of who she was, which she enjoyed vastly, and was fond of relating, in strict confidence, to her few intimates. If there were a number of pleasant features in such a household, there were occasionally little trifling drawbacks that detracted slightly from its perfect working, — mere specks in the sun, it is true, and, after all, only such defects as are inseparable from all things where humanity enters and influences. One of these — perhaps the most marked one A COMFORTABLE COUNTRY-HOUSE. 197 — was the presumption of certain habitites to install them- selves in certain rooms, which, from long usage, they had come to regard as their own. These prescriptive rights were so well understood that the frequenters of Tilney no more thought of disturbing them than they would of contest- ing their neighbors' title-deeds, or appropriating to themselves some portions of theii' wardrobes. Occasionally, however, it did happen that some guest of more than ordinary pretension arrived, — some individual whose rank or station placed him above these conventionalities, — and in such cases some deviations from ordinary routine would occur, but so quietly and peacefully withal as never to disturb the uniform work- ing of the domestic machinery. *'I find my rooms always ready for me here," said Mrs. Trafford ; "and I have no doubt that Mrs. Maxwell has given orders about yours, Mr. Maitland ; but it's your own fault, remember, if you 're not lodged to your liking." Maitland was not long in making his choice. A little garden pavilion, which was connected with the house by a glass corridor, suited him perfectly ; it combined comfort and quiet and isolation, — who could ask for more? — within an easy access of society when it was wanted. There was the vast old garden, as much orchard and shrubbery as garden, to stroll in unobserved ; and a little bathroom into which the water trickled all day long with a pleasant drip, drip, that sounded most soothingly. "It's the Commodore's favorite place, sir, this garden- house," said the butler, who did the honors to Maitland, "and it's only a chance that he's not here to claim it. There was some mistake about his invitation, and I suppose he 's not coming." " Yes, I passed him a couple of miles off; he'll be here almost immediately." " We '11 put him up on the second floor, sir ; the rooms are all newly done up, and very handsome." "I'm sorry if I inconvenience him, Mr. Raikes," said Maitland, languidly; "but I've got here now, and I'm tired, and my traps are half taken out; and, in fact, I should be sorrier still to have to change. Y'ou understand me, — don't you?" 198 TONY BUTLER. "Perfectly, sir; and my mistress, too, gave orders that you were to have any room you pleased ; and your own hours, too, for everything." " She is most kind. When can I pay my respects to her?" " Before dinner, sir, is the usual time. All the new com- pany meet her in the drawing-room. Oh, there 's the Commodore now ; I hear his voice, and I declare they 're bringing his trunks here, after all 1 said." The old sailor was now heard, in tones that might have roused a main-deck, calling to the servants to bring down all his baggage to the pavilion, to heat the bath, and send him some sherry and a sandwich. " I see you're getting read}^ for me, Raikes," said he, as the somewhat nervous functionary appeared at the door. " Well, indeed, Commodore Graham, these rooms are just taken." " Taken ! and by whom? Don't you know, and have n't you explained, that they are always mine?" "We thought up to this morning, Commodore, that you were not coming." " Who are ' we,' — you and the housemaids, eh? Tell me who are ' we,' sir? " " My mistress was greatly distressed, sir, at George's mistake, and she sent him back late last night." "Don't bother me about that. Who 's here, — who has got my quarters, and where is he? I suppose it 's a man." " It's a Mr. Norman Maitland," " By George, I 'd have sworn it! " cried the Commodore, getting purple with passion. " I knew it before you spoke. Go in and say that Commodore Graham would wish to speak with him." " He has just lain down, sir; he said he did n't feel quite well, and desired he mightn't be disturbed." "He's not too ill to hear a message. Go in and say that Commodore Graham wishes to have one word with him. Do you hear me, sir? " A flash of the old man's eye and a tighter grasp of his cane — very significant in their way — sent Mr. Raikes on his errand, from which, after a few minutes, he came back, A COMFORTABLE COUNTRY-HOUSE. 199 sayiug, in a low whisper, "He's asleep, sir, — at least I think so ; for the bedroom door is locked, and his breathing conies very long." "This is about the most barefaced, the most outrageously impudent — " He stopped, checked by the presence of the servant, which he had totally forgotten. " Take my traps back into the hall, — do you hear me? — the hall." " If you 'd allow me, sir, to show the yellow rooms up- stairs, with the bow window — " " In the attics, I hope? " ''No, sir, — just over the mistress's own room on the second floor." " I'll save you that trouble, Mr. Raikes ; send Corrie here, my coachman, — send him here at once." While Mr. Raikes went, or affected to go, towards the stables, — a mission which his dignity secretly scorned, — the Commodore called out after him, " And tell him to give the mare a double feed, and put on the harness again, — do you hear me? — to put the harness on her." Mr. Raikes bowed respectfully ; but had the Commodore only seen his face, he would have seen a look that said, " What I now do must not be taken as a precedent, — I do it, as the lawyers say, ' w^ithout prejudice.' " In a glow of hot temper, to which the ascent of two pairs of stairs contributed something, the old Commodore burst into the room w^here his daughters were engaged unpacking. Sofas, tables, and chairs were already covered with articles of dress, rendering his progress a matter of very nice steer- ing through the midst of them. " Cram them in again, — stow them all away ! " cried he ; " we're going back." "Back where?" asked the elder, in a tone of dignified resistance years of strong opposition had taught her. "Back to Port-Graham, if you know such a place. I've ordered the car round to the door, and I mean to be off in a quarter of an hour." "But why — what has happened? what's the reason for this?" "The reason is that I'm not going to be packed up in the top story, or given a bed in a barrack room. That 200 TONY BUTLER. fellow Raikes, — I '11 remember it to him next Christmas, — that fellow has gone and given the garden-house to that Mr. Maitland." " Oh, is that all?" broke in Miss Graham. "All, all! Why, what more would 3^ou have? Did you expect that he had told me to brush his coat or fetch his hot water? What the d — 1 do you mean by ' all '? " " Then why don't you take Mrs. Chetwyn's rooms? They are on this floor. She 's going now. They are most com- fortable, and have a south aspect : by the way she w^as just talking of Maitland ; she knows all about him, and he is the celebrated Norman Maitland." "Ah, let us hear that. I want to unearth the fellow if I only knew how," said he, taking a chair. "There's nothing to unearth, papa," said the younger daughter. "Mrs. Chetwyn says that there's not a man in England so courted and feted as he is ; tliat people posi- tively fight for him at country-houses ; and it 's a regular bait to one's company to say, ' We 're to have Maitland with us.' " " And who is he? " " She does n't know." "What's his fortune?" " She does n't know." "Where is it?" "She's not sure. It must be somewhere abroad, — in India, perhaps." " So that this old woman knows just as much as we do ourselves, — which is simply nothing, but that people go on asking this man about to this dinner and that shooting just because they met him somewhere else, and he amused them." "'Tis pretty clear that he has money, wherever it comes from," said Miss Graham, authoritatively. " He came to Hamilton Court with four hunters and three hackneys, the like of which were never seen in the county." "Tell papa about his yacht," broke in the younger. "I don't want to hear about his 3^acht; I'd rather learn why he turned me out of my old quarters." " In all probability he never heard they were yours. A COMFORTABLE COUNTRY-HOUSE. 201 Don't you know well what sort of house this is, — how everybody does what he likes ? " " Why did n't Alice Lyle — Mrs. Trafford, I mean — tell him that I always took these rooms." "Because probably she was thinking of something else," said Miss Graham, significantly. "Mrs. Chetwyn watched them as they drove up, and she declared that, if Maitland had n't his hand in her muff, her eyes have greatly deceived her." "And what if he had?" " Simply that it means they are on very excellent terms. Not that Alice will make any real conquest there : for, as Mrs. Chetwyn said, ' he has seen far too many of these fine- lady airs and graces to be taken by them ; ' and she added, *A frank, outspoken, natural girl, like your sister there, always attracts men of this stamp.'" "Why didn't he come over on Wednesday, then? It was his own appointment, and we waited dinner till seven o'clock, and have not had so much as one line — no, not one line of apology." "Perhaps he was ill, perhaps he was absent; his note might have miscarried. At all events, I 'd wait till we meet him, and see what explanation he '11 make." "Yes, papa," chimed in Beck, "just leave things alone. ' A strange hand on the rod never hooked the salmon,' is a saying of your own." "There's that stupid fellow brought the car round to the door ; just as if our splendid equipage had n't attracted criti- cism enough on our arrival," said Miss Graham, as she opened the window, and by a gesture more eloquent than graceful motioned to the servant to return to the stableyard ; "and there come the post-horses," added she, "for the Chetwj'ns. Go now and secure her rooms before you 're too late ; " and, rather forcibly aiding her counsel, she bundled the old Commodore out of the chamber, and resumed the unpacking of the wardrobe. "I declare, I don't know what he'll interfere in next," said Miss Graham. "Y"es," said Beck, with a weary sigh, "I wish he'd go back to the American war, and what we did or did not do at Ticonderoo;a." 202 TONY BUTLER. Leaving these young ladies to discuss, in a spirit more critical than affectionate, the old Commodore's ways and habits, let us for a moment return to Maitland, who had admitted young Lyle after two unsuccessful attempts to see him. "It 's no easy matter to get an audience of you," said Mark. "I have been here I can't say how many times, always to hear Fenton lisp out, ' In the bath, sir. ' " "Yes, I usually take my siesta that way. With plenty of eau-de-Cologne in it, there 's no weakening effect. Well, and what is going on here? any people that 1 know? I suppose not." "I don't think it very likely; they are all country families, except a few refreshers from the garrison at Newry and Duudalk." "And what do they do? " "Pretty much the same sort of thing you 'd find in an English country-house. There 's some not very good shoot- ing. They make riding-parties. They have archery when it's fine, and billiards when it rains; but they always dine very well at seven, that much I can promise you." "Not such a cook as your father's, Lyle, I 'm certain." "Perhaps not," said Mark, evidently flattered by the com- pliment. "But the cellar here is unequalled. Do you know that in the mere shadowy possibility of being one day her heir, 1 groan every time I see that glorious jNIadeira placed on the table before a set of fellows that smack their lips and say, 'It's good sherry, but a trifle too sweet for my taste.' " "And this same heritage, — how do the chances look? " "I shall want your power of penetration to say that. One day the old woman will take me aside and consult me about fifty things; and thp next she '11 say, ' Perhaps we 'd better make no changes, Mark. Heaven knows what ideas they may have who '11 come after me.' She drives me half distracted with these capricious turns." "It is provoking, no doubt of it." "I 'd not care so much if I thought it was to fall to Bella; though, to be sure, no good-looking girl needs such a for- tune as this. Do you know that the timber thrown down A COMFORTABLE COUNTRY-HOUSE. 203 by the late gales is worth eight thousand pounds? and Harris the steward tells me it 's not one fourth of what ought to be felled for the sake of the young wood." **And she has the whole and sole disposal of all this?" "Every stick of it, and some six thousand acres besides! " "I 'd marry her if I were you. I declare I would." "Nonsense! this is a little too absurd." *'Amram married his aunt, and I never heard that she had such a dower; not to say that the relationship in the present case is only a myth." " Please to remember that she is about thirty years older than my mother." "1 bear it most fully in mind, and I scout the vulgar impertinences of those who ridicule these marriages. I think there is something actually touching in the watchful care and solicitude of a youthful husband for the venerable object of his affections." ''Well, you shall not point the moral by 7ni/ case, I prom- ise you," said Mark, angrily. "That sublime spectacle that the gods are said to love — a great man struggling with adversity — is so beautifully depicted in these unions." "Then why not — " He was going to say, "Why not marry her yourself?" but the fear of taking such a liberty with his distinguished friend just caught him in time and stopped him. "I'll tell you why not," said Maitland, replying to the unuttered question. "If you have ever dined at a civic /e^e, you '11 have remarked that there is some one dish or other the most gluttonous alderman will suffer to pass untasted, — a sort of sacrifice offered to public opinion. And so it is, an intensely worldly man, as people are polite enough to regard me, must show, every now and then, that there are temptations which he is able to resist. Marrying for money is one of these. I might speculate in a bubble company, I might traffic in cotton shares, or even ' walk into ' my best friend at faro, but I mustn't marry for money, — that's positive." "But apparently I might," said Mark, sulkily. "You might," replied Maitland, with calm dignity of manner. 204 TONY BUTLER. "It is a privilege of which I do not mean to avail myself," said Mark, while his face was flushed with temper. "Do you know that your friends the Grahams are here ? " "Yes; I caught a glimpse of the fair Rebecca slipping sideways through life on a jaunting-car." "And there 's the old Commodore tramping over the house, and worrying every one with his complaints that you have turned him out of his rooms here, — rooms dedicated to his comfort for the last thirty j^ears." "Reason enough to surrender them now. Men quit even the Treasury benches to give the Opposition a turn of office.'*' "He 's a quarrelsome old blade, too," said Mark, "partic- ularly if he suspects he 's been ' put upon.' " "No blame to him for that." "A word or two, said as you well know how to say it, will set all right; or a line, perhaps, saying that having accidentally heard from me — " "No, no, Mark. Written excuses are like undated accept- ances, and they may be presented unexpectedly to you years after you 've forgotten them. I '11 tell the Commodore that 1 shall not inconvenience him beyond a day or two, for I mean to start by the end of the week." "They expect you to come back with us. Alice told me you had promised." ^^Uhomme 79?'o;:>ose," said he, sighing. "By the way, I saw that young fellow you told me about, — Butler; a good- looking fellow, too, well limbed and well set up, but not a marvel of good-breeding or tact." " Did he attempt any impertinences with yon ? " asked Mark, in a tone of amazement. "Not exactly; he was not, perhaps, as courteous as men are who care to make a favorable impression ; but he is not, as you suspected, — he is not a snob." "Indeed!" said Mark, reddening; for, though provoked and angry, he did not like to contest the judgment of Nor- man Maitland on such a point. "You '11 delight my sisters by this expression of your opinion ; for my own part, I can only say I don't agree with it." "The more reason not to avow it, Lyle. Whenever you A COMFORTABLE COUNTRY-HOUSE. 205 don't mean very well by a man, never abuse him, since, after that, all your judgments of him become suspect. Remember that where you praise you can detract; nobody has such unlimited opportunities to poison as the doctor. There, now, — there 's a bit of Machiavelism to think over as you dress for dinner, and I see it 's almost time to do so." CHAPTER XXII. THE DINNER AT TILNEY. When Maitland entered the drawing-room before dinner, the Commodore was standing in the window-recess ponder- ing over in what w^ay he should receive him ; while Sally and Beck sat somewhat demurely watching the various presentations to which Mrs. Maxwell was submitting her much-valued guest. At last Maitland caught sight of where they sat, and hurried across the room to shake hands with them, and declare the delight he felt at meeting them. "And the Commodore, is he here?" "Yes; I '11 find him for you," said Beck, not sorry to dis- play before her country acquaintance the familiar terms she stood on with the great Mr. Maitland. With what a frank cordiality did he shake the old sailor's hand, and how naturally came that laugh about nothing, or something very close to nothing, that Graham said, in allu- sion to the warm quarters they found themselves in. " Such Madeira I " whispered he, "and some old '34 claret. By the way, you forgot your promise to taste mine." "I'll tell you how that occurred when we've a quiet moment together," said Maitland, in a tone of such confi- dential meaning that the old man was reassured at once. "I 've a good deal to say to you; but we '11 have a morning together. You know every one here? Who is that with all the medals on his coat? " "General Carnwroth; and that old woman with the blue turban is his wife; and these are the Grimsbys; and that short man with the bald head is Holmes of Narrow Bank, and the good-looking girl there is his niece, — and heiress too." THE DINNER AT TILNEY. 207 *'"What red arms she has! " whispered Maitland. *'So they are, by Jove!" said Graham, laughing; "and I never noticed it before." "Take me in to dinner," said Mrs. Trafford, in a low voice, as she swept past Maitland. "I can't. Mrs. Maxwell has ordered me to give her my arm," said he, following her; and they went along for some paces, conversing. "Have you made your peace with the Grahams?" asked she, smiling half maliciously. "In a fashion; at least, I have put off the settling-day." "If you take to those morning rambles again with the fair Rebecca, I warn you it will not be so easy to escape an explanation. Here 's Mrs. Maxwell come to claim you." Heaving with fat and velvet and bugles and vulgar good- humor, the old lady leaned heavily on Maitland's arm, really proud of her guest, and honestly disposed to show him that she deemed his presence an honor. "It seems like a dream to me," said she, "to see you here after reading of your name so often in the papers at all the great houses in Eng- land. I never fancied tliat old Tilney would be so honored." It was not easy to acknowledge such a speech, and even Maitland's self-possession was pushed to its last limits by it; but this awkward feeling soon passed away under the genial influence of the pleasant dinner. And it was as pleasant a dinner as good fare and good wine and a well- disposed company could make it. At first a slight sense of reserve, a shade of restraint, seemed to hold conversation in check, and more particularly towards where Maitland sat, showing that a certain dread of him could be detected amongst those who would have fiercely denied if charged with such a sentiment. The perfect urbanity, tinctured, perhaps, with a sort of racy humor, with which Maitland acknowledged the old Commodore's invitation to take wine with him, did much to allay this sense of distrust. "I say, Maitland," cried he, from the foot of the table, "are you too great a dandy to drink a glass of wine with me? " A very faint flush colored Maitland's cheek, but a most pleasant smile played on his mouth as he said, "I am 208 TONY BUTLER. delighted, my dear Commodore, — delighted to repudiate the dandyism and enjoy the claret at the same time." "They tell me it's vulgar and old-fashioned, and I don't know what else, to take wine with a man," resumed the old sailor, encouraged by his success to engage a wider attention. "I only object to the custom when practised at a royal table," said Maitland, "and where it obliges you to rise and drink your wine standing." As some of the company were frank enough to own that they heard of the etiquette for the first time, and others, who affected to be conversant with it, ingeniously shrouded their ignorance, the conversation turned upon the various traits which characterize different courtly circles; and it was a theme Maitland knew how to make amusing, — not vaingloriously displaying himself as a foreground figure, or even detailing the experiences as his own, but relating his anecdotes with all the modest diffidence of one who was giving his knowledge at second-hand. The old General was alone able to cap stories with Mait- land on this theme, and told with some gusto an incident of his first experiences at Lisbon. "We had," said he, "a young attache to our Legation there; I am talking of, I regret to say, almost fifty years ago. He was a very good-looking young fellow, quite fresh from England, and not very long, I believe, from Eton. In passing through the crowd of the ball-room, a long streamer of lace which one of the Princesses wore in her hair caught in the attache's epaulette. He tried in vain to extricate himself, but, fear- ing to tear the lace, he was obliged to follow the Infanta about, his confusion making his efforts only the more hope- less. ' Where are you going, sir? What do you mean by this persistence?' asked a sour- faced old lady-of-honor, as she perceived him still after them. ' I am attached to her Royal Highness,' said he, in broken French, ' and I cannot tear myself away.' The Infanta turned and stared at him, and then instantly burst out a-laughing, but so good- humoredly withal, and with such an evident forgiveness, that the duenna became alarmed, reported the incident to the Queen, and the next morning our young countryman got his orders to leave Lisbon at once." THE DINNER AT TILNEY. 209 While the company commented on the incident, the old General sighed sorrovyfiilly, — over the long past, perhaps, — and then said, "He did not always get out of his entan- glements so easily." "You knew him, then?" asked some one. "Slightly; but I served for many years with his brother, Wat Butler, as good a soldier as ever wore the cloth." "Are you aware that his widow and sou are in this neigh- borhood?" asked Mrs. Trafford. "No; but it would give me great pleasure to see them. Wat and I were in the same regiment in India. I com- manded the company when he joined us. And how did he leave them ? " "On short rations," broke in old Graham. "Indeed, if it was n't for Lyle Abbey, I suspect very hard up at times." "Nothing of the kind. Commodore," broke in Mrs. Trafford. "You have been quite misinformed. Mrs. But- ler is, without affluence, perfectly independent ; and more so even in spirit than in fortune." A very significant smile from Maitland seemed to say that he recognized and enjoyed her generous advocacy of her friend. "Perhaps you could do something. General, for his son?" cried Mrs. Maxwell. "What sort of a lad is he?" "Don't ask me, for I don't like him; and don't ask my sisters, for they like him too well," said Mark. "Have you met him, Mr. Maitland?" asked the General. "Yes, but passingly. T was struck, however, by his good looks and manly bearing. The country rings with stories of his courage and intrepidity." "And they are all true," said Isabella Lyle. "He is the best and bravest creature breathing." "There's praise, — that's what I call real praise," said the General. "I'll certainly go over and see him after that." "I '11 do better. General," said Mrs. Maxwell; "I '11 send over and ask him here to-morrow. Why do you shake your head, Bella ? He '11 not come ? " "No," said she, calmly. 14 210 TONY BUTLER. "Not if you and Alice were to back my request?" "I fear not," said Alice. ''He has estranged himself of late from every one ; he has not been even once to see us since he came back from England." "Then Mark will go and fetch him for us," said Mrs. Maxwell, the most unobservant of all old ladies. "Not I, madam; nor would that be the way to secure mm." "Well, have him we must," said Mrs. Maxwell; while she added in a whisper to Mrs. Trafford, "It would never do to lose the poor boy such a chance." " Beck says, if some one will drive her over to the Cause- way," cried the Commodore, ''she'll vouch for success, and bring j^ouug Tony back with her." "Mr. Maitlaod offers himself," said Alice, whose eyes sparkled with fun, while her lips showed no trace of a smile. "Take the phaeton, then," said Mrs. Maxwell; "only there will be no place for young Butler ; but take a britscha, and order post-horses at Greme's Mill." And now a sharp discussion ensued which road was the shorter, and whether the long hill or the "new cut" was the more severe on the cattle. "This was most unfair of you," said Maitland to Mrs. Trafford, as they rose from the table; "but it shall not succeed." "How will 3'ou prevent it?" said she, laughing. "What can you do ? " "Rather than go I 'd say anything." - "As how, for instance?" He leaned forward and whispered a few words in her ear, and suddenly her face became scarlet, her eyes flashed pas- sionately, as she said, "This passes the limit of jest, Mr. Maitland." "Not more than the other would pass the limit of patience," said he; and now, instead of entering the drawing-room, he turned short round and sought his own room. CHAPTER XXni. THE FIRST NIGHT AT TILNEY. Maitland was not in the best of tempers when he retired to his room. "Whatever the words he had whispered in Alice's ear, — and this history will not record them, — they were a failure. They were even worse than a failure, for they produced an effect directly the opposite to that intended. "Have I gone too fast?" muttered he; "have I deceived myself? She certainly understood me well in what I said yesterday. She, if anything, gave me a sort of encourage- ment to speak. She drew away her hand, it is true, but without any show of resentment or anger; a sort of protest, rather, that implied, ' We have not yet come to this.' These home-bred women are hard riddles to read. Had she been French, Spanish, or Italian, — ay, or even one of our own, long conversant with the world of Europe, — I never should have blundered." Such thoughts as these he now threw on paper, in a letter to his friend Caffarelli. "What a fiasco I have made. Carlo mio^" said he, "and all from not understanding the nature of these creatures, who have never seen a sunset south of the Alps. I know how little sympathy any fellow meets with from you, if he be only unlucky. I have your face before me, — your eyebrows on the top of your forehead, and your nether lip quivering with malicious drollery, as you cry out, ' Ma per die ? perche? perche?' And I'll tell you why: because I be- lieved that she had hauled down her colors, and there was no need to continue firing. "Of course you'll say, ' Menn male^^ resume the action. But it won't do, Signor Conte, it won't do. She is not like one of your hardened coquettes on the banks of the Arno or the slopes of Castellamare, who think no more of a decla- 212 TONY BUTLER. ration of love than an invitation to dinner ; nor have the slightest diflSculty in making the same excuse to either, — a pre-engagement. She is English, or worse again, far worse, — Ii'ish. "I 'd give — I don't know what I would n't give — that I could recall that stupid speech. I declare I think it is this fearful language has done it all. One can no more employ the Anglo-Saxon tongue for a matter of delicate treatment, than one could paint a miniature with a hearth-brush. What a pleasant coinage for cajolery are the liquid lies of the sweet South, where you can lisp duplicity, and seem never to hurt the Decalogue." As he had written so far, a noisy summons at his door aroused him; while the old Commodore's voice called out, "Maitland! Maitland! I want a word with you." Maitland opened the door, and without speaking, returned to the fire, standing with his back to it, and his hands carelessly stuck in his pockets. "I thought I 'd come over and have a cigar with you here, and a glass of brandy-and-water," said Graham. "They 're hard at it yonder, with harp and piano, and, except holy- stoning a deck, 1 don't know its equal." " I 'm the more sorry for your misfortune, Commodore, that 1 am unable to alleviate it. I 'm deep in correspond- ence just now, as you see there, and have a quantity more to do before bedtime." "Put it aside, put it aside; never write by candlelight. It ruins the eyes ; and yours are not so young as they were ten years ago." "The observation is undeniable," said Maitland, stiffly. "You're six-and-thirty? well, five-and-thirty, I take it." "I 'm ashamed to say I cannot satisfy your curiosity on so natural a subject of inquiry." "Sally says forty," said he, in a whisper, as though the remark required caution. "Her notion is that you dye your whiskers; but Beck's idea is that you look older than you are." "I scarcely know to which of the young ladies I owe my deeper acknowledgments," said Maitland, bowing. "You're a favorite with both; and if it hadn't been for THE FIRST NIGHT AT TILNEY. 213 the very decided preference you showed, I tell you frankly they 'd have been tearing caps about you ere this." "This flattery overwhelms me; and all the more that it is quite unexpected." "None of j^our mock modesty with me, you dog! " cried the Commodore, with a chuckling laugh. "No fellow had ever any success of that kind that he did n't know it; and, upon my life, I believe the very conceit it breeds goes half- way with women." "It is no small prize to learn the experiences of a man like yourself on such a theme." ''Well, I '11 not deny it," said he, with a short sigh. "I had my share — some would say a little more than my share — of that sort of thing. You'll not believe it, perhaps, but I was a devilish good-looking fellow when I was — let me see — about six or eight years younger than you are now." "I am prepared to credit it," said Maitland, dryly. "There was no make-up about me^ — no lacquering, no paint, no padding; all honest scantling from keel to taffrail. I was n't tall, it 's true. I never, with my best heels on, passed five feet seven and a half." "The height of Julius Caesar," said Maitland, calmly. "I know nothing about Julius Caesar; but I'll say this, it was a good height for a sailor in the old gun-brig days, when they never gave you much head-room 'tween decks. It don't matter so much now if every fellow in the ward-room was as tall as yourself. What's in this jar here?" "Seltzer." "And this short one, — is it gin?" "No; it's Vichy." "Why, what sort of stomach do you expect to have with all these confounded slops? I never tasted any of these vile compounds but once, — what they called Carlsbad, — and, by Jove, it was bad, and no mistake. It took three fourths of a bottle of strong brandy to bring back the heat into my vitals again. Why don't you tell Raikes to send you in some sherry? That old brown sherry is very pleas- ant, and it must be very wholesome, too, for the doctor here alwavs sticks to it." 214 TONY BUTLER. "I never drink wine, except at my dinner," was the cold and measured reply. "You '11 come to it later on, — you '11 come to it later on," said the Commodore, with a chuckle, "when you '11 not be careful about the color of your nose or the width of your waistcoat. There 's a deal of vanity wrapped up in abstemi- ousness, and a deal of vexation of spirit too." And he laughed at his own drollery till his eyes ran over. "Y^ou 're saying to yourself, Maitlaud, ' What a queer old cove that is!' — ain't you? Out with it, man! I'm the best- tempered fellow that ever breathed, — with the men I like, mind you; not with every one. No, no; old G. G., as they used to call me on board the 'Hannibal,' is an ugly craft if you board him on the wrong quarter. I don't know how it would be now, with all the new-fangled tackle; but in the old days of flint-locks and wide bores I was a dead shot. I 've heard you can do something that way ? " "A little," said he, dryly. "Every gentleman ought; I've always maintained it; as poor old Bowes used to say, ' With a strong head for port, and a steady hand for a pistol, a man may go a long way in this world.' There, I think it 's your turn now at the pump. I 've had all the talk to myself since I came in ; and the most you 've done has been to grunt out ' Indeed ! ' or 'Really!'" "I have listened. Commodore, — listened most atten- tively. It has been my great privilege to have heard your opinions on three most interesting topics, — women, and wine, and the duel; and, I assure you, not unprofitably." "I 'm not blown, not a bit run off my wind, for all that, if I was n't so dry; but my mouth is like a lime-burner's hat. Would you just touch that bell and order a little sherry or Madeira? You don't seem to know the ways of the house here; but every one does exactly as he pleases." "I have a faint inkling of the practice," said Maitland, with a very peculiar smile. "What's the matter with you this evening? You 're not like yourself one bit. No life, no animation about you. Ring again; pull it strong. There, they'll hear that, I hope," cried he, as, impatient at Maitland's indolence, he THE FIRST NIGHT AT TILNEY. 215 gave such a jerk to the bell-rope that it came away from the wire. "I didn't exactly come in here for a gossip," said the Commodore, as he resumed his seat. "I wanted to have a little serious talk with you, and perhaps you are impatient that I have n't begun it, eh? " "It would be unpardonable to feel impatience in such company," said Maitland, with a bow. "Yes, yes; I know all that. That's what Y^ankees call soft sawder; but I'm too old a bird. Master Maitland, to be caught with chaff, and I think as clever a fellow as you are might suspect as much." "Y^ou are very unjust to both of us if you imply that I have not a high opinion of your acuteness." "I don't want to be thought acute, sir; 1 am not a law- yer, nor a lawyer's clerk, — I 'm a sailor." "And a very distinguished sailor." "That's as it may be. They passed me over about the good-service pension, and kept ' backing and filling' about that coast-guard appointment till I lost temper and told them to give it to the devil, for he had never been out of the Admiralty since I remembered it; and I said, ' Gazette him at once, and don't let him say, Y^ou 're forgetting an old friend and supporter.'" "Did you write that?" "Beck did, and I signed it; for I 've got the gout or the rheumatism in these knuckles that makes writing tough work for me, and tougher for the man it 's meant for. What ser- vants they are in this house! — no answer to the bell." "And what reply did they make you? " asked Maitland. "They shoved me on the retired list; and Curtis, the Sec- retary, said, ' I had to suppress your letter, or my Lords would certainly have struck your name off the Navy List,' — a thing I defy them to do; a thing the Queen couldn't do!" "Will you try one of these?" said Maitland, opening his cigar-case; "these are stronger than the pale ones." "No; I can't smoke without something to drink, which I foresee I shall not have here." "I deplore my inhospitality.'* 216 TONY BUTLER. "Inhospitality! why, you have nothing to say to it. It is old mother Maxwell receives us all here. You can be neither hospitable nor inhospitable, so far as I see, except- ing, perhaps, letting me see a little more of that fire than you have done hitherto, peacocking out the tail of your dressing-gown in front of me." "Pray draw closer," said Maitland, moving to one side; "m.ake yourself perfectly at home here." "So I used to be, scores of times, in these very rooms. It 's more than five-and-twenty years that I ever occupied any others." "I was thinking of going back to the dravring-room for a cup of tea before I resumed my work here." "Tea! don't destroy your stomach with tea. Get a little gin, — they 've wonderful gin here ; I take a glass of it every night. Beck mixes it, and puts a sprig of, not mint, but marjoram, I think they call it. I '11 make her mix a brew far you ; and, by the way, that brings me to what I came about." "Was it to recommend me to take gin? " asked Maitland, with a well-assumed innocence. "No, sir; not to recommend you to take gin," said the old Commodore, sternly. "I told you when I came in that I had come on an errand of some importance." "If you did, it has escaped me." "Well, you sha'n't escape me; that's all." "I hope I misunderstand you. I trust sincerely that it is to the dryness of your throat and the state of 3'our tonsils that T must attribute this speech. Will you do me the very great favor to recall it? " The old man fidgeted in his chair, buttoned his coat, and unbuttoned it, and then blurted out in an abrupt spasmodic way, "All right, — I didn't mean offence — I intended to say that as we were here now — that as we had this oppor- tunity of explaining ourselves — " " That's quite sufficient. Commodore. I ask for nothing beyond your simple assurance that nothing offensive was intended." " I '11 be hanged if I ever suffered as much from thirst in all my life. I was eighteen days on a gill of water THE FIRST NIGHT AT TILNEY. 217 a day in the tropics, and did n't feel it worse than this. I must drink some of that stuff, if I die for it. Which is the least nauseous?" "I think you'll find the Vichy pleasant; there is a little fixed air in it, too." " 1 wish there was a little cognac in it. Ugh ! it 's detest- able ! Let 's try the other. Worse ! I vow and declare — worse ! Well, Maitland, whatever be your skill in other mat- ters, I '11 be shot if I '11 back you for your taste in liquors." Maitland smiled, and was silent. "I shall have a fever — I know I shall — if I don't take something. There 's a singing in my head now like a chime of bells, and the back of my throat feels like a coal-bunker in one of those vile steamers. How you stand it I don't know; but to be sure you've not been talking as I have." The old Commodore rose, but when he reached the door, seemed suddenly to have remembered something ; for he placed his hand to his forehead, and said, " What a brain 1 have ! here was I walking away without ever so much as saying one word about it." " Could we defer it till to-morrow, my dear Commodore?" said Maitland, coaxingly. " I have not the slightest notion what it is, but surely we could talk it over after breakfast." ''But 3'ou '11 be off by that time. Beck said that there would be no use starting later than seven o'clock." "Off! and where to?" "To the Burnside, — to the widow Butler's, — where else! You heard it all arranged at dinner, didn't you?" " I heard something suggested laughingly and lightly, but nothing serious, far less settled positively." "Will you please to tell me, sir, how much of your life is serious, and how much is to be accepted as levity? for I suppose the inquiry I have to make of you amounts just to that, and no more." " Commodore Graham, it would distress me much if I were to misunderstand you once again to-night, and you will oblige me deeply if you will put any question you expect me to answer in its ver}^ simplest form." "That I will, sir; that I will! Now then, what are your intentions ? " 218 TONY BUTLER. "What are my intentions?" *' Yes, sir, — exactly so; what are your intentions?'* *' I declare I have so many, on such varied subjects, and of such different hues, that it would be a sore infliction on your patience were I only to open the budget; and as to either of us exhausting it, it is totally out of the question. Take your chance of a subject, then, and I'll do my best to enlighten you." "This is fencing, sir; and it doesn't suit me?" " If you knew how very little the whole conversation suits me, you 'd not undervalue my patience." " I ask you once again, what are your intentions as regards my youngest daughter, Miss Rebecca Graham ! That's plain speaking, I believe." "Nothing plainer; and my reply shall be equally so. I have none, — none whatever." "Do you mean to say you never paid her any particular attentions ? " " Never." "That you never took long walks with her when at Lyle Abbey, quite alone and unaccompanied?" " We walked together repeatedly. 1 am not so ungrate- ful as to forget her charming companionship." "Confound your gratitude, sir! it's not that I'm talk- ing of. Y^ou made advances. Y^ou — you told her — you said — in fact, you made her believe — ay, and you made me believe — that you meant to ask her to marry you." " Impossible ! " said Maitland ; " impossible ! " "And why impossible? Is it that our respective con- ditions are such as to make the matter impossible?" "I never thought of such an impertinence, Commodore. When I said impossible, it was entirely with respect to the construction that could be placed on all my intercourse with Miss Graham." "And didn't I go up to your room on the morning I left, and ask you to come over to Port-Graham and talk the matter over with me ? " " Y^ou invited me to your house, but I had not the faint- est notion that it was to this end. Don't shake your head as if you doubted me; I pledge you my word on it." THE FIRST NIGHT AT TILNEY. 219 *' How often have you done this sort of thing? for no fellow is as cool as you are that's not an old hand at it." " I can forgive a good deal — " *' Forgive ! I should think you could forgive the people you've injured. The question is, can / forgive? Yes, sir, can / forgive?" '' I declare it never occurred to me to inquire." " That 's enough, — quite enough ; you shall hear from me. It may take me twenty-four hours to find a friend ; but before this time to-morrow evening, sir, I'll have him." Maitland shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and said, " As 3'ou please, sir." " It shall be as I please, sir; I '11 take care of that. Are you able to say at present to whom my friend can address himself? " " If your friend will first do the favor to call upon me, I '11 be able by that time to inform him." " All right. If it 's to be Mark Lyle — " " Certainly not ; it could never occur to me to make choice of 3^our friend and neighbor's son for such an office." "Well, I thought not, — I hoped not; and I suspected, besides, that the little fellow with the red whiskers — that major who dined one day at the Abbey — " Maitland's pale cheek grew scarlet, his eyes flashed with passion, and all the consummate calm of his manner gave w^ay as he said, "With the choice of my friend, sir, you have nothing to do, and I decline to confer further with you." "Eh, eh! that shell broke in the magazine, did it? I thought it would. I '11 be sliot but I thought it would ! " And with a hearty laugh, but bitter withal, the old Commo- dore seized his hat and departed. Maitland was much tempted to hasten after the Commodore, and demand — imperiously demand — from him an explana- tion of his last words, whose taunt was even more in the manner than the matter. Was it a mere chance hit, or did the old sailor really know something about the relations between himself and M'Caskey? A second or two of thought reassured him, and he laughed at his own fears, 220 TONY BUTLER. and turned once more to the table to finish his letter to his friend. " You have often, my dear Carlo, heard me boast that amidst all the shifting chances and accidents of my life, I had ever escaped one signal misfortune, — in my mind, about the greatest that ever befalls a man. I have never been ridiculous. This can be my triumph no longer. The charm is broken ! I suppose, if I had never come to this blessed country, I might have preserved my immunity to the last; but you might as well try to keep your gravity at one of the Polichinello combats at Naples as preserve your dignity in a land where life is a perpetual joke, and where the few serious people are so illogical in their gravity, they are the best fun of all. Into this strange society I plunged as fearlessly as a man does who has seen a large share of life, and believes that the human crystal has no side he has not noticed ; and the upshot is, I am supposed to have made warm love to a young woman that I scarcely flirted with, and am going to be shot at to-morrow by her father for not being serious in my inten- tions ! You may laugh — you may scream, shout, and kick with laughter, and I almost think I can hear you; but it's a very embarrassing position, and the absurdity of it is more than I can face. " Why did I ever come here? What induced me ever to put foot in a land where the very natives do not know their own customs, and where all is permitted and nothing is tolerated? It is too late to ask you to come and see me through this troublesome affair; and indeed my present vacillation is whether to marry the young lady or run away bodily ; for I own to you I am afraid — heartily afraid — to fight a man that might be my grandfather ; and I can't bear to give the mettlesome old fellow the fun of shooting at me for nothing. And worse — a thousand times worse than all this, — Alice will have such a laugh at me ! Ay, Carlo, here is the sum of my affliction. " I must close this, as I shall have to look out for some one long of stride and quick of eye, to handle me on the ground. Meanwhile, order dinner for two on Saturday week, for I mean to be with you ; and, therefore, say THE FIRST NIGHT AT TILNEY. 221 nothing of those affairs which interest us, ultra montani. I write by this post to M'C. to meet me as I pass through Dublin ; and, of course, the fellow will want money. I shall therefore draw on Cipriani for whatever is necessary, and you must be prepared to tell him the outlay was indis- pensable. I have done nothing, absolutely nothing, here, — neither seduced man nor woman, and am bringing back to the cause nothing greater or more telling than ''Norman Maitland." CHAPTER XXIV. A STARLIT NIGHT IN A GARDEN. It was late at night, verging indeed on morning, when Maitland finished his letter. All was silent around, and in the great house the lights were extinguished, and apparentl}^ all retired to rest. Lighting his cigar, he strolled out into the garden. The air was perfectly still ; and although there was no moon, the sky was spangled over with stars, whose size seemed greater seen through the thin frosty atmosphere. It was pre-eminently the bright clear elastic night of a northern latitude, and the man of pleasure in a thousand shapes, the voluptuary, the viveur, was still able to taste the exquisite enjoyment of such an hour, as though his appetite for pleasure had not been palled by all the artifices of a life of luxury. He strolled about at random from alley to alley, now stopping to inhale the rich odor of some half-sleeping plant, now loitering at some old fountain, and bathing his temples with the ice-cold water. He was one of those men — it is not so small a category as it might seem — who fancy that the same gifts which win success socially, would be just as sure to triumph if employed in the wider sphere of the great ambitions of life. He could count the men he had passed, and easily passed, in the race of social intercourse, — men who at a dinner-table or in a drawing-room had not a tithe of his quickness, his versatility, his wit, or his geniality, and yet, plodding onwards and upwards, had attained station, eminence, and fortune ; while he — he, well read, accomplished, formed by travel and polished by cultivation — there he was ! just as he had begun the world, the only difference being those signs of time that tell as fatally on temperament as on vigor ; for the same law that makes the hair gray and the cheek wrinkled, renders wit sarcastic and humor malevolent. A STARLIT NIGHT IN A GARDEN. 223 Maitland believed — honestly believed — he was a better man than this one here who held a high command in India, and that other who wrote himself Secretary of State. He knew how little effort it had cost him, long ago, to leave "scores of such fellows" behind at school and at the university ; but he, unhappily, forgot that in the greater battle of life he had made no such efforts, and laid no tax on either his industry or his ability. He tried — he did his very best — to undervalue, to his own mind, their successes, and even asked himself aloud, ''Which of them all do I envy?" but conscience is stronger than casuistry, however crafty it be, and the answer came not so readily as he wished. While he thus mused, he heard his name uttered, so close to him, too, that he started, and, on looking up, saw that Mrs. Trafford's rooms were lighted, and one of the windows which " gave " upon a terrace was open. Voices came from the room within, and soon two figures passed out on the terrace, which he speedily recognized to be Alice and Mark Lyle. " You mistake altogether, Mark," said she, eagerly. *' It is no question whatever, whether your friend Mr. Maitland goes away disgusted with Ireland, and sick of us all. It is a much graver matter here. What if he were to shoot this old man? I suppose a fine gentleman as he is would deem it a very suitable punishment to any one who even passingly angered him." " But why should there be anything of the kind? It is to me Maitland would come at once if taere were such a matter in hand." " I'm not so sure of tliat ; and I am sure that Raikes overheard provocation pass between them, and that the Commodore left this half an hour ago, merely telling Sally that he had forgotten some lease or law paper that he ought to have sent off by post." '' If that be the case, there 's nothing to be done." " How do you mean nothing to be done? " " I mean, that as Maitland has not consulted me, I have no pretence to know anything about it." " But if you do know it, and if I tell it to you? " 224 TONY BUTLER. " All that would not amount to such knowledge as I could avail myself of. Maitlaud is not a man with whom any one can take liberties, Alice." '* What?" said she, haughtily, and as though she had but partly heard his speech. " I said that no man takes liberties with Maitland." A very insolent laugh from Alice was the answer. " Come, come," cried Mark, angrily. ** All these scornful airs are not in keeping with what you yourself wrote about Maitland to Bella just two days ago." " And had Bella — did she show you my letters? " *'I don't believe she intended me to see the turned-down bit at the end ; but I did see it, and I read a very smart sketch of Norman Maitland, but not done by an unfriendly hand." "It's not too late to revoke my opinion," said she, pas- sionately. "But this is all quite beside what I'm thinking of. Will you go down and see Mr. Maitland ? " " He 's in bed and asleep an hour ago." ^ ' He is not. I can see the light on the gravel from his windows ; and if he were asleep, he could be awakened, I suppose." " I have not the slightest pretext to intrude upon him, Alice." "What nonsense all this is! Who is he, — what is he, that he must be treated with all this deference ? " " It's somewhat too late in the day to ask who and what the man is of whom every society in Europe contests the possession." " My dear Mark, be reasonable. What have we to do just now with all the courtly flatteries that have been extended to your distinguished friend, or the thousand and one princesses he might have married? What I want is that he should n't, first of all, make a great scandal ; and sec- ondly, shoot a very worthy old neighbor, whose worst sin is being very tiresome." " And what I want is, first, that Maitland should n't carry away from this county such an impression that he'd never endure the thought of revisiting it ; and secondly, I want to go to bed, and so good-night." A STARLIT NIGHT IN A GARDEN. 225 *'Mark, one word, — only one," cried she; but he was gone. The bang of a heavy door resounded, and then a deep silence showed she was alone. Maitland watched her as she paced the terrace from end to end with impatient steps. There was a secret pleasure in his heart as he marked all the agitation that moved her, and thought what a share he himself had in it all. At last she withdrew within the room, but the opening and shutting of a door followed, and he surmised that she had passed out. While he was disputing with himself whether she might have followed Mark to his room, he heard a footstep on the gravel, and saw that she was standing and tapping with her finger on the window of his ciiamber. Maitland hurried eagerly back. "Is it possible that I see 3'ou here, Mrs. Trafford," cried he, "at this liour?" She started, and for a moment seemed too much overcome to answer, when she said: " You may believe that it is no light cause brings me ; and even now I tremble at what I am doing : but I have begun and I '11 go on. Let us walk this way, for I want to speak with you." "Will you take my arm?" said Maitland, but without anything of gallantry in his tone. "No, — yes, I will," said she, hurriedly; and now for some paces they moved along side by side in silence. " Mr. Maitland," said she at last, " a silly speech I made to-day at dinner has led to a most serious result, and Com- modore Graham and you have quarrelled." " Forgive me if I interrupt you. Nothing that fell from you has occasioned any rupture between Commodore Graham and myself ; for that I can pledge you my word of honor." " But you have quarrelled. Don't deny it." " We had a very stupid discussion, and a difference ; and 1 believe, if the Commodore would have vouchsafed me a patient hearing, he would have seen that he had really nothing to complain of on my part. I am quite ready to make the same explanation to any friend he will depute to receive it." " It was. however, what I said about your driving over with Miss Rebecca Graham to the Burnside that led to all this." 15 226 TONY BUTLER. " Nothing of the kind, I assure you." *' Well, I don't care for the reason," said she, impatiently ; '' but you have had a quarrel, and are about to settle it by a duel. I have no doubt," continued she, more rapidly, " that you, Mr. Maitland, can treat this sort of thing very lightly. I suppose it is part of your code as man of the world to do so ; but this old man is a father ; his life, however little you may think of it, is of very great consequence to his family ; he is an old friend and neighbor whom we all care for, and any mishap that might befall him would be a calamity to us all*" '' Pray continue," said he, softly; " I am giving you all my attention. Having given the sketch of one of so much value to his friends, I am waiting now to hear of the other whom nobody is interested for." "This is no time for sarcasm, however witty, Mr. Mait- land ; and I am sure your better feeling will tell you that I could not have come here to listen to it. Do not be offended with me for my bluntness, nor refuse what I have asked you." " You have not asked anything from me," said he, smiling. "Well, I will now," said she, with more courage in her tone ; "I will ask you not to go any further in this affair, — to pledge your word to me that it shall stop here." " Remember I am but one ; any promise I may make you can only take effect with the concurrence of another." "I know nothing — I want to know nothing — of these subtleties ; tell me flatly j^ou '11 not give this old man a meeting." " I will, if you '11 only say how I am to avoid it. No, no ; do not be angry with me," said he, slightly touching the hand that rested on his arm. " I'd do far more than this to win one, even the faintest smile that ever said, ' I thank you ; ' but there is a difficulty here. You don't know with what he charges me." "Perhaps I suspect it." "It is that after paying most marked attention to his daughter, I have suddenly ceased to follow up my suit, and declared that I meant nothing by it." " Well? " said she, quietly. A STARLIT NIGHT IX A GARDEN. 227 " Well," repeated he. " Surely no one knows better than you that there was no foundation for this." "I! how- should I know it? " '•^ At all events," replied he, with some irritation of man- ner, "you could n't believe it." "I declare I don't know," said she, hesitatingly, for the spirit of drollery had got the better even of the deep inter- est of the moment, — '' I declare I don't know, Mr. Maitland. There is a charm in the manner of an unsophisticated coun- try' girl which men of the world are often the very first to acknowledge." " Charming unsophistication ! " muttered he, half aloud. '' At all events, Mr. Maitland, it is no reason that because you don't admire a young lady, you are to shoot her papa." "How delightfully illogical you are!" said he; and, strangely enough, there was an honest admiration in the way he said it. " I don't want to convince, sir; I want to be obeyed. What I insist upon is, that this matter shall end here. Do you mind, Mr. Maitland, that it end here?" " Only show me how, and I obey you." " Do you mean to say that with all your tact and clever- ness, you cannot find a means of showing that you have been misapprehended, that you are deepl}^ mortified at being mis- understood, that by an expression of great humility — Do you know how to be humble ? " " I can be abject," said he, with a peculiar smile. " I should really like to see you abject! " said she, laugh- ingly. " Do so then," cried he, dropping on his knee before her, while he still held her hand, but with a very different tone of voice, — a voice now tremulous with earnest feeling, — continued : " There can be no humility deeper than that with which I ask your forgiveness for one word I spoke to you this evening. If you but knew all the misery it has caused me ! " " Mr. Maitland, this mockery is a just rebuke for my presence here. If I had not stooped to such a step, you would never have dared this." "It is no mockery to say what my heart is full of, and 228 TONY BUTLER. what you will not deny you have read there. No, Alice, you may reject my love ; you cannot pretend to ignore it." Though she started as he called her Alice, she said noth- ing, but only withdrew her hand. At last she said: "I don't think this is very generous of you. I came to ask a great favor at your hands, and you would place me in a position not to accept it." *' So far from that," said he, rising, " I distinctly tell you that I place all, even my honor, at your feet, and without one shadow of a condition. You say jou came here to ask me a favor, and my answer is that I accord whatever you ask, and make no favor of it. Now, what is it you wish me to do?" "It's very hard not to believe you sincere when you speak in this way," said she, in a low voice. " Don't try," said he, in the same low tone. " You promise me, then, that nothing shall come of this? " " I do," said he, seriously. "And that you will make any amends the Commodore's friend may suggest? Come, come," said she, laughing, "I never meant that you were to marry the young lady." " I really don't know how far you were going to put my devotion to the test." The pleasantness with which he spoke this so amused her that she broke again into laughter, and laughed heartily too. " Confess," said she at last, — " confess it's the only scrape you did not see your way out of ! " " I am ready to confess it's the only occasion in my life in which I had to place my honor in the hands of a lady." " Well, let us see if a lad}^ cannot be as adroit as a gen- tleman in such an affair ; and now, as you are in my hands, Mr. Maitland, — completely in m^/ hands, — I am peremptory, and my first orders are that you keep close arrest. Raikes will see that you are duly fed, and that you have your letters and the newspapers ; but mind, on any account, no visitors without my express leave : do you hear me, sir?" "I do; and all I would say is this, that if the tables should ever turn, and it would be my place to impose con- ditions, take my word for it, I '11 be just as absolute. Do you hear me, madam? " A STARLIT NIGHT IN A GARDEN. 229 "I do; and I don't understand, and I don't want to understand you," said she, in some confusion. *'Now, good-bye. It is almost day. I declare that gray streak there is daybreak ! " "Oh, Alice, if you would let me say one word — only one — before we part." "I will not, Mr. Maitlaud, and for this reason, that I intend we should meet again." "Be it so," said he, sadly, and turned away. After he had walked a few paces, he stopped and turned round ; but she was already gone, how and in what direction he knew not. He hurried first one way, then another, but without success. If she had passed into the house, — and, of course, she had, — with what speed she must have gone ! Thought- ful, but not unhappy, he returned to his room, if not fully assured that he had done what was wisest, well disposed to hope favorably for the future. CHAPTER XXV. JEALOUS TRIALS. When Mrs. Maxwell learned, in the morning, that Mr, Maitland was indisposed and could not leave his room, that the Commodore had gone off in the night, and Mark and Mrs. Trafford had started by daybreak, her amazement became so insupportable that she hastened from one of her guests to the other, vainly asking them to explain these mysteries. "What a fidgety old woman she is! " said Beck Graham, who had gone over to Bella Lyle, then a prisoner in her room from a slight cold. "She has been rushing over the whole house, inquiring if it be possible that my father has run away with Alice, that your brother is in pursuit of them, and Mr. Maitland taken poison in a moment of despair. At all events, she has set every one guessing and gossiping at such a rate that all thought of archery is forgotten, and even our private theatricals have lost their interest in pres- ence of this real drama." "How absurd! " said Bella, languidly. "Yes, it's very absurd to fill one's house with company, and give them no better amusement than the chit-chat of a boarding-house. I declare I have no patience with her." " Where did your father go? " "He went over to Port-Graham. He suddenly bethought him of a lease — I think it was a lease — he ought to have sent off by post, and he was so eager about it that he started without saying good-bye. And Mark, — what of him and Alice?" "There's all the information I can give you;" and she handed her a card with one line in pencil: "Good-bye till evening, Bella. You were asleep when I came in. — Alice." JEALOUS TRIALS. 231 *'How charmingly mysterious! And you have ho idea where they 've gone? " *'Not the faintest; except, perhaps, back to the Abbey for some costumes that they wanted for that ' great tableau.'" "I don't think so," said she, bluntly. "I suspect — shall I tell you what I suspect? But it's just as likely you '11 be angry, for you Lyles will never hear anything said of one of you. Yes, you may smile, my dear, but it 's well known, and I 'm not the first who has said it." "If that be true, Beck, it were best not to speak of people who are so excessively thin-skinned." "I don't know that. I don't see why you are to be in- dulged any more than your neighbors. I suppose every one must take his share of that sort of thing." Bella merely smiled, and Rebecca continued: "What I was going to say was this, — and, of course, you are at liberty to dissent from it if you like, — that, however clever a tactician your sister is, Sally and I saw her plan of campaign at once. Yes, dear, if you had been at dinner yesterday you 'd have heard a very silly project thrown out about my being sent over to fetch Tony Butler, under the escort of Mr. Norman Maitland. Not that it would have shocked me, or frightened me in the least, — I don't pre- tend that; but as Mr. Maitland had paid me certain atten- tion at Lyle Abbey, — you look quite incredulous, my dear, but it is simply the fact; and so having, as I said, made these advances to me, there would have been considerable awkwardness in our going off together a drive of several hours without knowing — without any understanding — " She hesitated for the right word, and Bella added, "J quol s'en teiiir, in fact." "1 don't know exactly what that means, Bella; but, in plain English, 1 wished to be sure of what he intended. My dear child, though that smile becomes you vastly, it also seems to imply that you are laughing at my extreme simplicity, or my extreme vanity, or both." Bella's smile faded slowl}^ away; but a slight motion of the angle of the mouth showed that it was not without an effort she was grave. 232 TONY BUTLER. " I am quite aware," resumed Beck, "that it requires some credulity to believe that one like lnyself could have attracted any notice when seen in the same company with Alice Lyle — Trafford, I mean — and her sister; but the caprice of men, my dear, will explain anything. At all events, the fact is there, whether one can explain it or not; and, to prove it, papa spoke to Mr. Maitland on the morning we came away from the Abbey ; but so hurriedly — for the car was at the door, and we were seated on it — that all he could manage to say was, that if Mr. Maitland would come over to Port-Graham and satisfy him on certain points, — the usual ones, I suppose, — that — that, in short, the matter was one which did not offer insurmountable obstacles. All this sounds very strange to your ears, my dear, but it is strictly true, every word of it." "I cannot doubt whatever you tell me," said Bella; and now she spoke with a very marked gravity. "Away we went," said Rebecca, who had now got into the sing-song tone of a regular narrator, — "away we went, our first care on getting back home being to prepare for Mr. Maitland' s visit. We got the little green-room ready, and cleared everything out of the small store-closet at the back, and broke open a door between the two so as to make a dressing-room for him, and we had it neatly papered, and made it really very nice. We put up that water-colored sketch of Sally and myself making hay, and papa leaning over the gate ; and the little drawing of papa receiving the French commander's sword on the quarter-deck of the ' Malabar: ' in fact, it was as neat as could be, — but he never came. No, my dear, — never." "How was that?" "You shall hear; that is, you shall hear what followed, for explanation I have none to give you. Mr. Maitland was to have come over, on the Wednesday following, to dinner. Papa said five, and he promised to be punctual; but he never came, nor did he send one line of apolog3\ This may be some new-fangled politeness, — the latest thing in that fashionable world he lives in, — but still I cannot believe it is practised by well-bred people. Be that as it may, my dear, we never saw him again till yesterday, when JEALOUS TRIALS. 233 he passed us in your sister's fine carriage-and-four, he lolling back this way, and making a little gesture, so, with his hand as he swept past, leaving us in a cloud of dust that totally precluded him from seeing whether we had returned his courtesy — if he cared for it. That 's not all," she said, laying her hand on Bella's arm. "The first thing he does on his arrival here is to take papa's rooms. Well, — you know what I mean, — the rooms papa always occupies here ; and when Raikes remarks, ' These are always kept for Commodore Graham, sir; they go by the name of the Com- modore's quarters,' his reply is, 'They'll be better known hereafter as Mr. Norman Maitland's, Mr. Raikes.' \Yord for word what he said; Raikes told me himself. As for papa, he was furious ; he ordered the car to the door, and dashed into our room, and told Sally to put all the things up again, — that we were going off. I assure you, it was no easy matter to calm him down. You have no idea how violent he is in one of these tempers; but we managed at last to persuade him that it was a mere accident, and Sally began telling him the wonderful things she had heard about Maitland from Mrs. Chetwyn, — his fortune and his family, and what not. At last he consented to take the Chetwyns' rooms, and down we went to meet Mr. Maitland, — I own, not exactly certain on what terms it was to be. Cordial is no name for it, Bella; he was — I won't call it affectionate, but I almost might: he held my hand so long that I was forced to draw it away ; and then he gave a little final squeeze in the parting, and a look that said very plainly, 'We, at least, understand each other.' It was at that instant, my dear, Alice opened the campaign." "Alice! What had Alice to do with it? " "Nothing, — nothing whatever, by right, but everything if you admit interference and — Well, I '11 not say a stronger word to her own sister. I '11 keep just to fact, and leave the commentary on this to yourself. She crosses the drawing-room, — the whole width of the large drawing- room, — and, sweeping grandly past us in that fine Queen- of-Sheba style she does so well,^she throws her head back, — it was that stupid portrait-painter, Hillyer, told her ' it gave action to the features,' — and says, 'Take me into 234 TONY BUTLER. dinDer, will you ? ' But she was foiled ; old Mrs. Maxwell had already bespoke him. I hope you 're satisfied now, Bella, that this is no dream of mine." "But I cannot see any great mischief in it, either." "Possibly not. I have not said that there was. Sally 's no fool, however, and her remark was, — ' There 's nothing so treacherous as a widow. ' " Bella could not contain herself any longer, but laughed heartily at this profound sentiment. "Of course we do not expect you to see this with our eyes, Bella, but we 're not blind, for all that. Later on came the project for fetching over Tony Butler, when Alice suggested that Mr. Maitland was to drive me over to the Burnside — " "Was that so very ungenerous, then?" "In the way it was done, my dear, — in the way it was done. In that ha, ha, ha! manner, as though to say, 'Had n't you both better go off on a lark to-morrow that will set us all talking of you? ' " "No, no! I'll not listen to this," cried Bella, angrily; "these are not motives to attribute to my sister." "Ask herself; let her deny it, that's all; but, as Sally says, ' There 's no plajung against a widow, because she knows every card in your hand.' " "I reall}^ had no idea they were so dangerous," said Bella, recovering all her good-humor again. "You may, perhaps, find it out one da3\ Mind, I 'm not sa^'ing Alice is not very handsome, and has not the biggest blue eyes in the world, which she certainly does not make smaller in the way she uses them; or that any one has a finer figure, though some do contrive to move through a room without catching in the harp or upsetting the china. Men, I take it, are the best judges, and they call her perfection." "They cannot think her more beautiful than she is." "Perhaps not, dear; and as you are so like as to be con- stantly mistaken — " "Oh, Beck! surely this is not fair," said she, and so im- ploringly that the other's voice softened down as she said, — JEALOUS TRIALS. 235 "I never meant to be rude; but my head is gone wild to-day; for, after all, when matters had gone so far, Alice had no right to come in in this fashion; and, as Sally says, ' Why did she never encourage him till she saw his atten- tions addressed to another? ' " "I never perceived that she gave Mr. Maitland any encouragement. Yes, you may hold up your hands, Beck, and open your eyes very wide; but I repeat what I have said." "That's a matter of taste, I suppose," said Beck, with some irritation. "There are various sorts of encourage- ments : as Sally says, ' A look will go further with one than a lock of your hair with another.' " "But, really, Sally would seem to have a wisdom like Solomon's on these subjects," said Bella. "Yes; and what's more, she has acquired it without any risk or peril. She had neither to drive half over a county with a gentleman alone, or pass a good share of a night walking with him in the alleys of a garden." "What do you mean by this?" asked Bella, angrily. "Ask Alice; she '11 be here, I suppose, this evening; and I 'm sure she '11 be delighted to satisfy all your sisterly anxiety." "But one word. Beck, — just one word before you go." " Not a syllable. I have said now what I rigidl}^ prom- ised Sally not to mention when I came in here. You got it out of me in a moment of irritation, and I know well what's in store for me when I confess it, — so good-bye." "But, Beck — " "Don't make yourself cough, dear; lie down and keep your shawl round you. If I 'd thought you were so feverish, I 'd not have come over to torment you, — good-bye; " and, resisting all Bella's entreaties and prayers, Beck arose and left the room. CHAPTER XXVI. BESIDE THE HEARTH. As Tony sat at tea with his mother, Janet rushed in to say that Dr. Stewart had just come home with his daughter, and that she seemed very weak and ill, — "daunie-like," as Janet said, "and naethiug like the braw lassie that left this twa years ago. They had to help her out o' the stage ; and if it hadna been that Mrs. Harley had gi'en her a glass o' gooseberry wine, she wad hae fainted." Janet saw it all, for she had gone into Coleraine, and the doctor gave her a seat back with himself and his daughter. "Poor girl! And is she much changed?" asked Mrs. Butler. , "She's no that changed that I wudna know her," said Janet, "and that's all. She has no color in her cheeks nor mirth in her een ; and instead of her merry laugh, that set everybody off, she 's just got a little faint smile that 's mair sad than onything else." "Of course she 's weak; she's had a bad fever, and she 's now come off a long journey," said Tony, in a sort of rough discontented voice. "Ay," muttered Janet; "but I doubt she '11 never be the same she was." "To be sure you do," broke in Tony, rudely. "You would n't belong to your county here if you did n't look at the blackest side of everj^thing. This end of our island is as cheerful in its population as it is in scenery; and when- ever we have n't a death in a cabin, we stroll out to see if there 's no sign of a shipwreck on the coast." "No such a thing. Master Tony. He that made us made us like ither folk; and we 're no worse or better than our neighbors." BESIDE THE HEARTH. 237 "What about the letters, Janet? Did you tell the post- master that they 're very irregular clowu here? " asked Mrs. Butler. "I did, ma'am, and he said ye 're no warse off than others; that when the Lord sends floods, and the waters rise, human means is a' that we have; and if the boy eouldna swim, the leather bag wi' the letters would hae gi'en him little help." ''And could n't he have told ye all that without cant- ing — " "Tony! Tony!" broke in his mother, reprovingly. "This is not the way to bear these things, and I will not hear it." "Don't be angry, little mother," said he, taking her hand between both his own. "I know how rough and ill- tempered I have grown of late; and though it frets me sorely, I can no more throw it off than I could a fever." "You '11 be soon yourself again, my poor Tony. Your dear father had his days when none dare go near him but myself; and I remember well Sir Archy Cole, who was the General, and commanded in Stirling, saying to me, ' I wish, Mrs. Butler, you would get me the sick-return off Wat's table, for he 's in one of his tantrums to-day, and the adjutant has not courage to face him.' Many and many a time I laughed to myself over that." "And did you tell this to my father?" "No, Tony," said she, with a little dry laugh, "I didn't do that; the Colonel was a good man, and a God-fearing man; but if he had thought that anything was said or done because of certain traits or marks in his own nature, he 'd have been little better than a tiger." Tony pondered, or seemed to ponder, over her words, and sat for some time with his head between his hands. At last he arose hastily, and said, "I think I'll go over to the Burnside and see the doctor, and I '11 take him that brace of birds I shot to-day." "It's a cold night, Tony." "What of that, mother? If one waits for fine weather in this climate, I 'd like to know when he 'd go out." "There, you are railing again, Tony; and you must not 238 TONY BUTLER. fall into it as a habit, as people do with profane swearing, so that they cannot utter a word without blaspheming." "Well, the country is beautiful; the weather is more so; the night is a summer one, and I myself am the most jolly, light-hearted young fellow from this to anywhere you like. Will that do, little mother?" and he threw his arm around her, and kissed her fondly. "They 've got a colt up there at Sir Arthur's that no one can break; but if you saw him in the paddock, you 'd say there was the making of a strong active horse in him ; and Wylie, the head groom, says he 'd just let him alone, for that some horses ' break themselves.' Do you know, mother, I half suspect I am myself one of these unruly cattle, and the best way would be never to put a cavesson on me ? " Mrs. Butler had not the vaguest conception of what a caves- son meant, but she said, "I'll not put that nor anything like it on you, Tony; and I '11 just believe that the son of a loyal gentleman will do nothing to dishonor a good name." "That's right; there you've hit it, mother; now we understand each other," cried he, boldly. "I'm to tell the doctor that we expect him and Dolly to dine with us on Monday, ain't I? " "Monday or Tuesday, or whenever Dolly is well enough to come." "I was thinking that possibly Skeffy would arrive by Tuesday." " So he might, Tony, and that would be nice company for him, — the doctor and Dolly." There was something positively comic in the expression of Tory's face as he heard this speech, uttered in all the simplicity of good faith; but he forbore to reply, and, throwing a plaid across his shoulders, gave his habitual little nod of good-bye, and went out. It was a cold starlit night, — far colder on the sea-shore than in the sheltered valleys inland. Tony, however, took little heed of this; his thoughts were bent upon whither he was going; while between times his mother's last words would flash across him, and once he actually laughed aloud as he said, "Nice company for Skeify! Poor mother little knows what com- pany he keeps, and what fine folk he lives with." BESIDE THE HEARTH. 239 The minister's cottage lay at the foot of a little hill, beside a small stream or burn, — a lonesome spot enough, and more than usually dreary in the winter season ; but, as Tony drew nigh, he could make out the mellow glow of a good fire as the gleam, stealing between the ill-closed shut- ters, fell upon the gravel without. "I suppose," muttered Tony, "she 's right glad to be at home again, humble as it is ; " and then came another, but not so pleasant thought, "But why did she come back so suddenly? why did she take this long journey in such a season, and she so weak and ill? " He had his own dark misgivings about this, but he had not the courage to face them, even to himself; and now he crept up to the window and looked in. A good fire blazed on the hearth; and at one side of it, deep in his old leather chair, — the one piece of luxury the room possessed, — the minister lay fast asleep, while oppo- site to him, on a low stool, sat Dolly, her head resting on the arm of a chair at her side. If her closely cropped hair and thin, wan face gave her a look of exceeding youthful- ness, the thin hand that hung down at her side told of suffer- ing and sickness. A book had fallen from her fingers, but her gaze was bent upon the burning log before her — may- hap in unconsciousness ; mayhap she thought she read there something that revealed the future. Lifting the latch — there was no lock, nor was any needed — of the front door, Tony moved stealthily along the little passage, turned the handle of the door, and on tiptoe moved across the room, unseen by Dolly, and unheard. As his hand touched the chair on which her head leaned, she looked up and saw him. She did not start nor cry out, but a deep crimson blush covered her face and her temples, and spread over her throat. "Hush I" said she, in a whisper, as she gave him her hand without rising; "hush! he's very tired and weary; don't awake him." "I '11 not awake him," whispered Tony, as he slid into the chair, still holding her hand, and bending down his head till it leaned against her brow. "And how are you, dear Dolly? Are you getting quite strong again? " "Not yet awhile," said she, with a faint shadow of a 240 TONY BUTLER. smile, "but I suppose I shall soon. It was very kind of you to come over so soon; and it 's a severe night too. How is Mrs. Butler?" ''TTell and hearty; she sent you scores of loves, — if it was like long ago, I 'd have said kisses too," said he, laughing. But Dolly never smiled; a grave, sad look, indeed, came over her, and she turned her head awa3\ *' I was so glad to hear of your coming home, dear Dolly. I can't tell you how dreary the Burnside seems without you. Ay, pale as you are, you make it look bright and cheer}^ at once. It was a sudden thought, was n't it? " "I believe it was; but we '11 talk of it all another time. Tell me of home. Janet says it's all as I left it: is it so?" "I suspect it is. What changes did you look for? " "I scarcely know. I believe when one begins to brood over one's own thoughts, one thinks the world without ought to take on the same dull cold coloring. Have n't you felt that?" "I don't know — I may; but I'm not much given to brooding. But how comes it that you, the lightest-hearted girl that ever lived — What makes you low-spirited ? " ''First of all, Tony, I have been ill; then, I have been away from home; but come, I have n(>t come back to com- plain and mourn. Tell me of your friends and neighbors. How are all at the Abbey? We'll begin with the grand folk." "I know little of them; I have n't been there since I saw you last." "And how is that, Tonj^? You used to live at the Abbey when I was here long ago." "Well, it is as I tell you. Except Alice Trafford, — and that only in a carriage, to exchange a word as she passed, — I have not seen one of the Lyles for several weeks." "And didn't she reproach you? Didn't she remark on your estrangement?" "She said something, — I forget what," said he, impa- tiently. "And what sort of an excuse did you make? " "I don't remember. I suppose I blundered out some- ' f 1 ^i^. ^.^ _^ 1^''^. m ^.S^: :A. V % '^i li^^^ / d^Sy . if \ \^E - I— jlj^ff^t ' n^ ^0 1 .^^■P^' h0^j\: ■ 'f\r di «« ^ ^^ H^'^V^p, f4 ^ ^ \ ^^M Wm^^MmSi . »■ ' Jr^J^^jw^.'m/ i ■; if mm... V I -^ w»m ii^ r ^7^ v^S^^^B^ '/'ii^^. ■a^^m^ ^y^^z^tm. BESIDE THE HEARTH. 241 thing about being engaged or occupied. It was not of much consequence, anyhow, for she didn't attach any importance to my absence." "Don't say that, Tonj^ for I remember mj^ father saying, in one of his letters, that he met Sir Arthur at the fair of Ballymena, and that he said, ' If you should see Tony, doctor, tell him I 'm hunting for him everywhere, for 1 have to buy some young stock. If I do it without Tony Butler's advice, I shall have the whole famil}^ upon me.' " "That's easy enough to understand. I was very useful and they were very kind ; but 1 fancy that each of us got tired of his part." "They were stanch and good friends to you, Tony. I 'm sorry 3'ou 've given them up," said she, sorrowfully. "What if it was tliey that gave me up? I mean, what if I found the conditions upon which I went there were such as I could not stoop to? Don't ask me any more about it; I have never let a word about it escape my lips, and I am ashamed now to hear myself talk of it." "Even to me^ Tony, — to sister Dolly?" "That's true; so you are my dear, dear sister," said he, and he stooped and kissed her forehead; "and you shall hear it all, and how it happened." Tony began his narrative of that passage with Mark Lyle with which our reader is already acquainted, little noticing that to the deep scarlet that at first suffused Dolly's cheeks, a leaden pallor had succeeded, and that she lay with half-closed eyes, in utter unconsciousness of what he was saying. "This, of course," said Tony, as his story flowed on, — "this, of course, was more than I could bear, so I hurried home, not quite clear what was best to be done. I had n't you^ Dolly, to consult, you know; " he looked down as he said this, and saw that a great tear lay on her cheek, and that she seemed fainting. "Dolly, my dear, — my own dear Dolly," whispered he, "are you ill, — are you faint?" "Lay my head back against the wall," sighed she, in a weak voice; "it's passing off." "It was this great fire, I suppose," said Tony, as he knelt down beside her, and bathed her temples with some cold 16 242 TONY BUTLER. water that stood near. "Coming out of the cold air, a fire will do that." "Yes," said she, trying to smile, "it was that." "I thought so," said he, rather proud of his acuteness. "Let me settle you comfortably here;" and he lifted her up in his strong arms, and placed her in the chair where he had been sitting. "Dear me, Dolly, how light you are ! " She shook her head, but gave a smile, at the same time, of mingled melancholy and sweetness. "I 'd never have believed you could be so light; but you '11 see what home and native air will do," added he, quickly, and ashamed of his own want of tact. "My little mother, too, is such a nurse, I '11 be sworn that before a month 's over you '11 be skipping over the rocks, or helping me to launch the coble, like long ago, — won't you, Dolly? " "Go on with what you were telling me," said she, faintly. "Where was I? I forget where I stopped. Oh, yes; I remember it now. I went home as quick as I could, and I wrote Mark Lyle a letter. 1 know you '11 laugh at the notion of a letter by my hand; but I think I said what I wanted to say. I did n't want to disclaim all that I owed his family; indeed I never felt so deeply the kindness they had shown me as at the moment I was relinquishing it forever; but I told him that if he presumed, on the score of that feeling, to treat me like some humble hanger-on of his house, I 'd beg to remind him that by birth at least I was fully his equal. That was the substance of it, but I won't say that it was conveyed in the purest and best st^'le." "What did he reply?" "Nothing, — not one line. I ought to say that I started for England almost immediately after; but he took no notice of me when I came back, and we never met since." "And his sisters, — do you suspect that they know of this letter of yours? " "I cannot tell, but I suppose not. It's not likely Mark would speak of it." " How, then, do they regard your abstaining from calling there?" BESIDE THE HEARTH. 243 "As a caprice, I suppose. They always thought me a wayward, uncertain sort of fellow. It's a habit your well- off people have, to look on their poorer friends as queer and odd and eccentric, — eh, Dolly?" "There's some truth in tlie remark, Tony," said she, smiling; " but I scarcely expected to hear you come out as a moralist." "That's because, like the rest of the world, you don't estimate me at my true value. I have a great vein of reflection or reflectiveness — which is it, Dolly? but it's the deepest of the two — in me, if people only knew it." " You have a great vein of kind-heartedness, and you are a good son to a good mother," said she, as a pink blush tinged her cheek, " and I like that better." It was plain that the praise had touched him, and deeply too, for he drew his hand across his eyes, and his lip trem- bled as he said, " It was just about that dear mother I wanted to speak to you, Dolly. You know I'm going away ? " " My father told me," said she, with a nod of her head. " And though, of course, I may manage a short leave now and then to come over and see her, she '11 be greatly alone. Now, Dolly, you know how she loves j^ou, — how happy she always is when you come over to us. Will you promise me that you'll often do so? You used to think nothing of the walk long ago, and when you get strong and hearty again, you '11 not think more of it. It would be such a comfort to me, when I am far away, to feel that you were sitting beside her, — reading to her, perhaps, or settling those flowers she's so fond of. Ah, Dolly, I'll have that window that looks out on the white rocks in my mind, and you sitting at it, many and many a day, when I '11 be hundreds of miles off." "I love your mother dearly, Tony; she has been like a mother to myself for many a year, and it would be a great happiness to me to be with her ; but don't forget, Tony," — and she tried to smile as she spoke, — "don't forget that I'll have to go seek my fortune also." " And are n't you come to live at home now for good? " She shook her head with a sorrowful meaning, and said : 244 TONY BUTLER. "I'm afraid not, Tony. My dear, dear father does not grow richer as he grows older, and he needs many a little comfort that cannot come of his own providing, and you know he has none but me." The intense sadness of the last few words were deepened by the swimming eyes and faltering lips of her that uttered them. " And are you going back to these M'Gruders? " She shook her head in negative. " I 'm glad of that. I 'm sure they were not kind." " Nay, Tony, they were good folk, but after their own fashion ; and they always strove to be just." " Another word for being cruel. I 'd like to know what 's to become of any of us in this world if we meet nothing better than justice. But why did you leave them? — I mean leave them for good and all." She changed color hastily, and turned her head away, while in a low confused manner she said: "There were several reasons. I need n't tell you I was n't strong, Tony, and strength is the first element of governess life." " I know how it came about," broke in Tony. " Don't deny it, — don't, Dolly. It was all my fault." " Don't speak so loud," whispered she, cautiously. " It all came of that night I dined at Richmond. But if he had n't struck at me — " "Who struck at you, Tony, my man?" said the old minister, waking up. " He wasna over-gifted with prudence whoever did it, that I maun say ; and how is Mrs. Butler and how are you yourself? " " Bravely, sir, both of us. I've had a long chat with Dolly over the fire, and I fear I must be going now. I Ve brought you a brace of woodcocks, and a message from my mother about not forgetting to dine with us on Monday." " I don't know about that, Tony. The lassie yonder is very weak just yet." "But after a little rest, eh, Dolly? Don't you think you 'd be strong enough to stroll over by Monday ? Then Tuesday be it." " We '11 bide and see, Tony, — we '11 bide and see. I'll be able, perhaps, to tell you after meeting to-morrow ; not BESIDE THE HEARTH. 245 that You're very reg'lar in attendance, Maister Tony; I mean to have a word or two with you about that one of these days." "All right, sir." said Tony. "If you and Dolly come over to us on Monday, you may put me on the cutty-stool if you like afterwards ; " and with that he was gone. '•And all this has been my doing." thought Tony, as he wended his way homewards. ** I have lost to this poor girl the means by which she was earning her own livelihood, and aiding to make her father's life more comfortable ! I must make her tell me how it all came about, and why they made her pav the penalty of my fault. Not very fair that for people so just as they are." '* And to think," added he, aloud, after a pause. — "to think it was but the other day I was saying to myself, ' What can people mean w^hen they talk of this weary world, — this life of care and toil and anxiety? ' — and already I feel as if I stood on the threshold, and peeped in, and saw it all ; but, to be sure, at that time I was cantering along the strand with Alice, and now — and now I am plodding along a dark road, with a hot brain and a heavy heart, to tell me that sorrow is sown broadcast, and none can escape it." All was still at the cottage when he reached it. and he crept gently to his room, and was soon asleep, forgetting cares and gi'iefs. and only awaking as the strong sunlight fell upon his face and proclaimed the morning. CHAPTER XXVII. AN UNWELCOME LETTER. The doctor had guessed aright. Tony did not present him- self at meeting on Sunday. Mrs. Butler, indeed, was there, though the distance was more than a mile, and the day a raw and gusty one, with threatenings of snow in the air. "Are you coming with me, Tony, to hear the minister? It will be an interesting lecture to-day on the character of Ahab," said she, opening his door a few inches. ''I'm afraid not, mother; I'm in for a hard day's work this morning. Better lose Ahab than lose my examination." Mrs. Butler did not approve of the remark, but she closed the door and went her way, while Tony covered his table with a mass of books, arranged paper and pens, and then, filling the bowl of a large Turkish pipe, sat himself down, as he fancied, to work, but in reality to weave thoughts about as profitable and as connected as the thin blue wreaths of smoke that issued from his lips, and in watching whose way- ward curls and waftings he continued to pass hours. I have often suspected — indeed, my experience of life leads me much to the conviction — that for the perfect enjo}^- ment of what is called one's own company, the man of many resources must yield the palm to him of none ; and that the mere man of action, whose existence is stir, move- ment, and adventure, can and does find his occasional hours of solitude more pleasurable than he who brings to his reve- ries the tormenting doubts and distrusts, the casuistical indecisions, and the dreary discontents, that so often come of much reading. Certainly in the former there is no strain, — no wear and tear. He is not called on to breast the waves and stem the tide, but to float indolently down the stream without even remarking the scenery that clothes the banks. AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 247 Tony, I fancy, was a master of this art ; he knew how to follow up any subject in thought till it began to become painful, and then to turn his attention to the sea and some far-off white sail, or to the flickering leaflet of falling snow, tossed and drifted here and there like some castaway, — a never- failing resource. He could follow with his eyes the azure circles of smoke, and wonder which would outstrip the other. To fit him for the life of a '' messenger," he had taken down "Cook's Voyages;" but after reading a few pages, he laid down the book to think how far the voyager's experiences could apply to the daily exigencies of a Foreign Office official, and to ask himself if he were not in reality laying down too wide and too extensive a foundation for future acquirement. " No," thought he, " I '11 not try to be any better or smarter than the rest. I '11 just stick to the practical part, and here goes for Ollendorf." Three or four sentences read, — he leaned back, and wondered whether he would not rather undertake an excursion on foot to Jeru- salem than set out on an expedition into the French lan- guage. As if a whole life could master that bulky diction- ary, and transfer its contents to his poor brain ! To be sure, Alice knew it ; but Alice could learn what she pleased. She learned to skate in three lessons, — and how she did it too ! Who ever glided over the ice with such a grace, — so easy, so quiet, but with such a perfection of movement! Talk of dancing, — it was notliing to it. And could n't she ride? See her three fields off. and you'd know the ground just by the stride of her horse. Such a hand she had ! But who was like Alice? Ah ! there was the boundless prairie, to his thoughts, on which he might ramble forever ; and on that wide swelling savannah, roaming and straying, we shall now leave him, and turn our glance elsewhere. The morning service of the meeting-house over, Dr, Stewart proposed to walk home with Mrs. Butler. The exposition about Ahab had neither been as full or as able as he had intended, but it was not his fault, — at least, only in part his fault ; the sum of which consisted in the fact that he had broken through a good rule, which up to that hour had never met with infraction, — he had opened 248 TONY BUTLER. a post-letter on the Sabbath-morn. "This comes," said he, plaintively, "of letting the siufu' things of this warld mingle wi' the holier and higher ones of the warld to come. Corruption is aye stronger than life ; and now I maun tell you the whole of it." If we do not strictly follow the good minister, and tell what he had to say in his own words, it is to spare our reader some time on a matter which may not possess the amount of interest to him it had for the person who narrated it. The matter was this : there came that morning a letter from Mrs. M'Gruder to Dr. Stewart, — a letter that almost overwhelmed him. The compensation to humility of station is generally this, that the interests of the humble man are so lowly, so unpretending, and so little obtrusive that they seldom or never provoke the attention of his more fortunate neighbors. As with the rivulet that can neither float a barque nor turn a mill- wheel none meddles, so with the course of these lowly lives few concern themselves, and they ripple along un- heeded. Many and many a time had the old minister hugged this thought to his heart, — many and many a time had he felt that there were cares and troubles in this life so proud and so haughty that they disdained the thatched cabin and the humble roof-tree, but loved to push their way through crowds of courtiers up marble stairs and along gilded corridors. It was then with a perfect shock that he came to learn that even they, in all their lowliness, could claim no exemption from common calamity. The letter began by stating that the writer, before putting pen to paper, had waited till Miss Stewart should have reached her home, so that no anxieties as to her health should be added to the pain the communication might cause. After this louring commencement the epistle went on to state that the satisfaction which Dolly had at first given by her general good temper and strict attention to her duties, "compensating in a great measure for the defects in her own education and want of aptitude as a teacher," soon ceased to be experienced, as it was found that she was subject to constant intervals of great depres- sion, and even whole days, when she seemed scarcely equal to her duties. The cause was not very long a secret. AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 249 It was an attachment she had formed to a brother of Mr. M'Gruder's, who, some years younger than hmiself, had been established m Italy as a partner, and had now come over to England on business. It was not necessary to say that the writer had never encouraged this sentiment ; on the contrary, she had more than remonstrated with her brother-in-law on the score of his attentions, and flatly declared that, if he persisted, she would do her utmost to have the partnership with his brother dissolved, and all future intercourse at 'an end between them. This led to scenes of a very violent nature, in which she was obliged to own her husband had the cruelty to take his brother's side against her, and avow that Samuel was earning his own bread, and if he liked to share it with an " untochered lassie," it should be far from him, Robert M'Gruder, that any reproach should come, — a sarcasm that Mrs. M'Gruder seemed keenly to appreciate. The agitation caused by these cares, acting on a system ' already excited, had brought on a fever to Dolly ; and it was only on her convalescence, and while still very weak, that a young man arrived in London and called to see her, who suddenly seemed to influence all her thoughts and plans for the future. Sam, it appeared, had gone back to Italy, relying on Dolly's promise to consult her father and give him a final reply to his offer of marriage. From the day, however, that this stranger had called, Dolly seemed to be- come more and more indifferent to this project, declaring that her failing health and broken spirits would render her rather a burden than a benefit, and constantly speaking of home, and wishing to be back there. " Though I wished," con- tinued the writer, "that this resolve had come earlier, and that Miss Stewart had returned to her father before she had thrown discord into a united family, I was not going to oppose it, even late as it occurred. It was therefore arranged that she was to go home, ostensibly to recruit and restore herself in her native air ; but I, I need hardly tell you, as firmly determined she should never pass this threshold again, blatters were in this state, and Miss Stew- art only waiting for a favorable day to begin her journey — 250 TONY BUTLER. an event I looked for with the more impatience as Mr. M'G. and myself could never, I knew, resume our terms of affection so long as she remained in our house, — when one night, between one and two o'clock, we were awoke by the sound of feet in the garden under our window. I heard them first, and, creeping to the casement, I saw a figure clamber over the railing and make straight for the end of the house where Miss Stewart slept, and immediately begin a sort of low moaning kind of song, evidently a signal. Miss Stewart's window soon opened, and on this I called Mr. M'Gruder. He had barely time to reach the window, when a man's voice from below cried out, ' Come down ; are you coming?' On this, Mr. M'Gruder rushed down- stairs and into the garden. Two or three loud and angry words succeeded, and then a violent struggle, in which my husband was twice knocked down and severely injured. The man, however, made his escape, but not unrecognized ; for your daughter's voice cried out, ' Oh, Tony, I never thought you 'd do this,' or, ' Why did you do this? ' or some words to that effect. " The terms on which, through Miss Stewart's behavior, I have latterly lived with Mr. M'Gruder, gave me no oppor- tunity to learn anything from him. Indeed, he never so much as spoke of an incident which confined him two days to his room and five days to the house ; but, as if bent on exasperation, redoubled his kind inquiries about your daugh- ter, who was now, as she said, too ill to leave her room. *' No other course was then open to me than to write the present letter to you and another to my brother-in-law. He, at least, I am determined, shall know something of the young lady with whom he wishes to share his fortune, though I trust that a minister of the Gospel will have no need of any promptings of mine to prevent such a casualty. ]My last words, on parting with your daughter, were to ask if the man I saw that night was the same who had called to see her, and her reply was, ' Yes, the same.' I will not disguise that she had the grace to cry as she said it. "That she is never to return here, I need not sa3\ Ay, more than that ; no reference to me will be responded to in terms that can serve her. But this is not all. I require AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 251 that you will send, and send open for m}" inspection, such a letter to Mr. S. M'Gruder as may finally put an end to any engagement, and declare that, from the circumstances now known to you, you could neither expect, or even desire, that he would make her his wife. Lastly, I demand — and I am in a position to enforce a demand — that you do not communicate with my husband at all in this affair ; sufficient unpleasantness and distrust having been already caused by our unhappy relations with your family." A few moral reflections closed the epistle. They were neither very novel nor very acute, but they embodied the sense of disapppointment experienced by one who little thought, in taking a teacher from the manse of a minister, she was incurring a peril as great as if she had sent over to France for the latest refinement in Parisian depravity. "Keep her at home with yourself, Dr. Stewart," wrote she, " unless the time comes when the creature she called Tony may turn up as a respectable man, and be willing to take her." And with a gracefully expressed hope that Dolly's ill health might prove seasonable for self-examination and correction, she signed herself, " Your compassionate friend, Martha M'Gruder." "What do you say to that, Mrs. Butler? Did ever you read as much cruelty in pen and ink, I ask you? Did you ever believe that the mother of children could write to a father of his own daughter in such terms as these ? " "I don't know what it means, doctor; it's all confusion to me. Who is Tony? It's not our Tony, surely?" "I'm not so sure of that, Mrs. Butler. Tony was up in London and he called to see Dolly. You remember that he told in his letter to you how the puir lassie's hair was cut short — " " I remember it all, Dr. Stewart ; but what has all that to do with all this dreadful scene at night in the garden?" The doctor shook his head mournfully, and made no reply. "If you mean. Dr. Stewart, that it was my Tony that brought about all these disasters, I tell you I will not — I cannot believe it. It would be better to speak your mind out, sir, than to go on shaking your head. We 're not altogether so depraved that our disgrace is be3'ond words." 252 TONY BUTLER. ''There's nothing for anger here, my dear old friend," said he, calmly, "though maybe there's something for sor- row. When you have spoken to your son, and I to my daughter, y^e '11 see our way better through this thorny path. Good-bye." " You are not angry with me, doctor? " said she, holding out her hand, while her eyes were dimmed with tears, — "■you are not angry with me?" "That I am not," said he, grasping her hand warml}- in both his own. " We have no other treasures in this world, either of us, than this lad and this lassie, and it 's a small fault if we cling to them the more closely. I think I see Tony coming to meet you, so I'll just turn home again." And with another and more affectionate good-bye, they parted. CHAPTER XXVIII. AT THE MANSE. In no small perturbation of mind was it that Mrs. Butlei passed her threshold. That a word should be breathed against her Tony, was something more than she could en- dure ; that he could have deserved it, was more than she could believe. Tony, of whom for years and years she had listened to nothing but flatteries, how clever and ready- witted he, was, how bold and fearless, how kind-hearted, and how truthful, — ay, how truthful ! and how is it then, asked she of herself, that he has told me nothing of all this mischance, and what share he has had in bringing misfortune upon poor Dolly? "Is Master Tony at home, Jenny?" said she, as she entered. ''Yes; he's reading a letter that has just come wi' the post." The old lady stopped, with her hand on the handle of the door, to draw a full breath, and regain a calm look ; but a merry laugh from Tony, as he sat reading his letter, did more to rally her, though her heart smote her to think how soon she might have to throw a shadow across his sunshine. " AYho's your letter from, Tony?" said she, dryly. " From Skeffy ; he'll be here to-morrow; he's to arrive at Coleraine by six in the morning, and wants me to meet him there." " And what 's the other sealed note in your hand? " "This? — this is from another man, — a fellow you've never heard of; at least, you don't know him." "And what may be his name, Tony?" asked she, in a still colder tone. "He's a stranger to you, mother. Skeffy found the note at my hotel, and forwarded it, — that 's all." 254 TONY BUTLER. " You were n't wont to have secrets from me, Tony," said she, tremulously. *'Nor have I, mother; except it may be some trifling annoyance or worry that I don't care to tease you about. If I had anything heavier on my mind, you may trust me, I'd very soon be out with it." "But I 'm not to hear who this man is? " said she, with a strange pertinacity. "Of course you are, if you want to hear; his name is there, on the corner of his note, — ■ Robt. M'Gruder, — and here 's the inside of it, though I don't think you '11 be much the wiser when you 've read it." "It 's for yourself to read your own letter, Tony," said she, waving back the note. "I merely asked who was your correspondent." Tony broke the seal, and ran his eye hastily over the lines. "I 'm as glad as if 1 got a hundred pounds! " cried he. "Listen to this, mother: — " ' Dear Sir, — When I received your note on Monday — ' "But wait a bit, mother; I must tell you the whole story, or you '11 not know why he wrote this to me. Do you remember my telling you, just at the back of a letter, that I was carried off to a dinner at Richmond? " "Yes, perfectly." "Well, I wish I hadn't gone, that's all. Not that it was n't jolly, and the fellows very pleasant and full of fun, but somehow we all of us took too much wine, or we talked too much, or perhaps both; but we began laying wagers about every imaginable thing, and I made a bet, — I '11 be hanged if I could tell what it was; but it was something about Dolly Stewart. I believe it was that she was hand- somer than another girl. I forgot all about her hair being cut off, and her changed looks. At all events, off we set in a body, to M'Gruder's house. It was then about two in the morning, and we all singing, or what we thought was singing, most uproariously. Yes, you may shake your head. I 'm ashamed of it now, too, but it was some strange wine — I think it was called Marcobrunner — that completely upset me; and the first thing that really sobered me was AT THE MANSE. 255 seeing that the other fellows ran away, leaving me all alone in the garden, while a short stout man rushed out of the house with a stick to thrash me. I tried to make him hear me, for I wanted to apologize; but he wouldn't listen, and so I gave him a shake. I didn't strike him; but I shook him off, roughly enough perhaps, for he fell, and then I sprang over the gate, and cut off as fast as I could. When I awoke next morning, I remembered it all, and heartily ashamed I was of myself; and I thought that perhaps I ought to go out in person and beg his pardon ; but 1 had no time for that; I wanted to get away by that day's packet, and so I wrote him a few civil lines. I don't remember them exactly, but they were to say that I was very sorry for it all, and I hoped he 'd see the thing as it was, — a stupid bit of boyish excess, of which I felt much ashamed; and here 's his answer: — " ' Dear Sir, — When I received your note on Monday morning, I was having leeches to my eye, and could n't answer it. Yesterday both eyes were closed, and it is only to-day that I can see to scratch these lines. If I had had a little more patience on the night I first met you, it would have been better for both of us. As it is, 1 re- ceive all your explanation as frankly as it is given ; and you '11 be lucky in life if nobody bears you more ill-will than — Yours truly, ' RoBT. M' Gruder. " 'If you come up to town again, look in on me at 27 Cannon Street, City. 1 do not say here, as Mrs. M'G, has not yet forgiven the black eye.' " "Oh, Tony! my own, dear, dear, true-hearted Tony!" cried his mother, as she flung her arms around him, and hugged him to her heart. "I knew my own dear boy was as loyal as his own high-hearted father." Tony was exceedingly puzzled to what precise part of his late behavior be owned all this enthusiastic fondness, and was curious also to know if giving black eyes to Scotch- men had been a trait of his father's. "And this was all of it, Tony?" asked she, eagerly. "Don't you think it was quite enough? I'm certain Dolly did; for she knew my voice, and cried out, ' Oh, Tony, how could you? ' or something like that from the 256 TONY BUTLER. window. And that's a thing, mother, has been weighing heavily on my mind ever since. Has this unlucky freak of mine anything to do with Dolly's coming home?" "We '11 find that out later on, Tony; leave that to me," said she, hurriedly ; for with all her honesty, she could not bear to throw a cloud over his present happiness, or dash with sorrow the delight he felt at his friend's coming. "I don't suspect," continued he, thoughtfully, ''that I made a very successful impression on that Mrs. M'Gruder the day I called on Dolly; and if she only connected me with this night's exploit, of course it 's all up with me." "Her husband bears you no grudge for it at all, Tony." "That 's clear enough; he 's a fine fellow; but if it should turn out, mother, that poor Dolly lost her situation, — it was no great thing, to be sure; but she told me herself, it was hard enough to get as good ; and if, I say, it was through me she lost it — " "You mustn't give yourself the habit of coining evil, Tony. There are always enough of hard and solid troubles in life without our conjuring up shadows and spectres to frighten us. As I said before, I '11 have a talk with Dolly herself, and I '11 find out everything." "Do so, mother; and try and make her come often over here when I'm gone; she'll be very lonely yonder, and you '11 be such good company for each other, won't you? " "I '11 do my best, for I love her dearly! She has so many ways, too, that suit an old body like myself. She 's so quiet and so gentle, and she '11 sit over her work at the window there, and lay it down on her knee to look out over the sea, never saying a word, but smiling a little quiet smile when our eyes meet, as though to sa}^ ' This is very peaceful and happy, and we have no need to tell each other about it, for we can feel it just as deeply.' " Oh, if she 'd only let Alice come to see her and sit with her, thouoht Tony; how she would love her! Alice could be all this, and would, too; and then, what a charm she can throw around her with that winning smile! Was there ever sunshine like it? And her voice — no music ever thrilled through me as that voice did. "I say, mother," cried he, aloud, "don't say No; don't refuse her if she begs AT THE MANSE. 257 to come over now and then with a book or a few flowers ; don't deny her merely because she 's very rich and much courted and flattered. I j^ledge you my word the flattery has not spoiled her." "Poor Dolly! it's the first time I ever heard that you were either rich or run after! What 's the boy di'eaming of, with his eyes staring in his head ? " "I 'm thinking that I '11 go into Coleraine to-night, so as to be there when the mail arrives at six in the morning," said Tony, recovering himself, though in considerable con- fusion. "Skeffy's room is all read}', isn't it?" "To be sure it is; and very nice and comfortable it looks too;" and as she spoke, she arose and went into the little room, on which she and Jenny had expended any amount of care and trouble. "But, Tony dear," she cried out, "what 's become of Alice Lyle's picture? I put it over the fireplace myself, this morning." "And I took it down again, mother. Skeffy never knew Alice, — never saw her." "It was n't for that I put it there; it was because she was a handsome lassie, and it 's always a pleasant sight to look upon. Just bring it back again; the room looks nothing without it." "No, no; leave it in your own room, in which it has always been," said he, almost sternly. "And now about dinner to-morrow; I suppose we'd better make no change, but just have it at three, as we always do." "Your grand friend will think it's luncheon, Tony." "He '11 learn his mistake when it comes to tea-time; but I '11 go and see if there 's not a salmon to be had at Carrig- a-Rede b-^fore T start; and if I 'm lucky, I '11 bring you a brace of snipe back with me." " Do so, Tony ; and if Mr. Gregg was to offer you a little seakale, or even some nice fresh celery — Eh, dear, he 's off, and no minding me! He's a fine true-hearted lad," muttered she, as she reseated herself at her work; "but I wonder what's become of all his high spirits, and the merry ways that he used to have." Tony was not successful in his pursuit of provender. There was a heavy sea on the shore, and the nets had been 17 258 TONY BUTLER. taken up ; and during his whole walk he never saw a bird. He ate a hurried dinner when he came back, and, taking one more look at Skeffy's room to see whether it looked as comfortable as he wished it, he set out for Coleraine. Now, though his mind was very full of his coming guest, in part pleasurably, and in part with a painful conscious- ness of his inability to receive him handsomely, his thoughts would wander off at every moment to Dolly Stewart, and to her return home, which he felt convinced was still more or less connected with his own freak. The evening service was going on in the meeting-house as he passed, and he could hear the swell of the voices in the last hymn that pre- ceded the final prayer, and he suddenly bethought him that he would take a turn by the Burnside and have a few min- utes' talk with Dolly before her father got back from meeting. "She is such a true-hearted, honest girl," said he to him- self, "she '11 not be able to hide the fact from me; and I will ask her flatly. Is this so? was it not on my account you left the place ? " All was still and quiet at the minister's cottage, and Tony raised the latch and walked through the little passage into the parlor unseen. The parlor, too, was empty. A large old Bible lay open on the table, and beside it a handker- chief — a white one — that he knew to be Dolly's. As he looked at it, he bethought him of one Alice had given him once as a keepsake; he had it still. How different that fragment of gossamer with the frill of rich lace from this homely kerchief! Were they not almost emblems of their owners ? and if so, did not his own fortunes rather link him with the humbler than with the higher? With one there might be companionship; with the other, what could it be but dependence? While he was standing thus thinking, two ice-cold hands were laid over his eyes, and he cried out. "Ay, Dolly, those frozen fingers are yours ; " and as he removed her hands, he threw one arm round her waist, and, pressing her closely to him, he kissed her. "Tony, Tony!" said she, reproachfully, while her eyes Bwam in two heavy tears, and she turned away. AT THE MANSE. 259 "Come here and sit beside me, Dolly. I want to ask you a question, and we have n't much time, for the doctor will be here presently, and I am so fretted and worried thinking over it that I have nothing left but to come straight to your- self and ask it." "Well, what is it?" said she, calmly. "But you will be frank with me, Dolly, — frank and honest, as j^ou always were, — won't you?" "Yes, I think so," said she, slowly. "Ay, but you must be sure to be frank, Dolly, for it touches me very closely ; and to show you that you may, I will tell you a secret, to begin with. Your father has had a letter from that Mrs. M'Gruder, where you lived." "From her?" said Dolh^, growing so suddenly pale that she seemed about to faint; "are you sure of this? " "My mother saw it; she read part of it, and here 's what it implies, — that it was all my fault — at least, the fault of knowing me — that cost you your place. She tells, not very unfairly, all things considered, about that unlucky night when I came under the windows and had that row with her husband; and then she hints at something, and I'll be hanged if I can make out at what; and if my mother knows, which I suspect she does not, she has not told me; but whatever it be, it is in some way mixed up with your going away; and knowing, my dear Dolly, that you and I can talk to one another as few people can in this world, — is it not so? Are you ill, dear, — are you faint?" "No; those are weak turns that come and go." "Put your head down here on my shoulder, my poor Dolly. How pale you are! and your hands so cold. What is it you say, darling? I can't hear." Her lips moved, but without a sound, and her eyelids fell lazily over her eyes, as, pale and scarcely seeming to breathe, she leaned heavily towards him, and fell at last in his arms. There stood against the opposite wall of the room a little horse-hair sofa, a hard and narrow bench, to which he carried her, and, with her head supported by his arm, he knelt down beside her, helpless a nurse as ever gazed on sickness. "There, you are getting better, my dear, dear Dolly," he 260 TONY BUTLER. said, as a long heavy sigh escaped her. "You will be all right presently, my poor dear." "Fetch me a little water," said she, faintly. Tony soon found some, and held it to her lips, wonder- ing the while how it was he had never before thought Dolly beautiful, so regular were the features, so calm the brow, so finely traced the mouth, and the well-rounded chin beneath it. How strange it seemed that the bright eye and the rich color of health should have served to hide rather than heighten these traits! "I think I must have fainted, Ton}^," said she, weakly. "I believe you did, darling," said he. "And how was it? Of what were we talking, Tony? Tell me what I was saying to you." Tony was afraid to refer to what he feared might have had some share in her late seizure; he dreaded to recur to it. "I think I remember it," said she, slowly, and as if struggling with the difficulty of a mental effort. "But stay; is not that the wicket I heard? Father is coming, Tony;" and as she spoke, the heavy foot of the minister was heard on the passage. "Eh, Tony man, ye here? I'd rather hae seen ye at the evening lecture; but ye 're no fond of our form of worship, I believe. The Colonel, your father, I have heard, was a strong Episcopalian." "I was on my way to Coleraine, doctor, and I turned off at the mill to see Dolly, and ask her how she was." "Y^e winna stay to supper, then?" said the old man, who, hospitable enough on ordinary occasions, had no wish to see the Sabbath evening's meal invaded by the presence of a guest, even of one so well known as Tony. Tony muttered some not very connected excuses, while his eyes turned to Dolly, who, still pale and sicklj'-looking, gave him one little brief nod, as though to sa}^ it were better he should go; and the old minister himself stood erect in the middle of the floor, calmly and almost coldly waiting the words "Good-bye." "Am I to tell mother you '11 come to us to-morrow, doc- tor, — you and Dolly?" asked Tony, with his hand on the door. AT THE MANSE. 261 "It's no on the Sabbath evening we should turn our thoughts to feastin', Master Tony; and none know that better than your worthy mother. I wish you a good- evening and a pleasant walk." *' Good-night," said Tony, shutting the door sharply; "and," muttered he to himself, "if you catch me crossing your threshold again. Sabbath or week-day — " He stopped, heaved a deep sigh, and, drawing his hand across his eyes, said, "My poor dear Dolly, hasn't my precious temper done you mischief enough already, that I must let it follow you to your own quiet fireside? " And he went his way, w4th many a vow of self-amend- ment, and many a kind wish, that w^as almost a prayer, foi the minister and his daughter. CHAPTER XXIX. DEPARTURES. All was confusion and dismay at Tilney. Bella Lyle's cold turned out to be scarlatina, and Mark and Alice brousrht back tidinors that old Commodore Graham had been seized with a fit, and was seriously, if not dangerously, ill. Of course, the company scattered like an exploded shell. The Graham girls hastened back to their father, while the other guests sought safety in flight, the great struggle now being who should soonest secure post-horses to get away. Like many old people rich in this world's comforts, Mrs. Maxwell had an especial aversion to illness in any shape. It was a topic she never spoke on ; and, if she could, would never have mentioned before her. Her intimates understood this thoroughly, and many were the expressions employed to imply that Mr. Such-a-one had a fever, or Mrs. So-and-so was given over by her doctors. As to the fatal result itself, it was always veiled in a sort of decent mystery, as though it would not be perfectly polite to inquire whither the missing friend had retired to. "Dr. Reede says it is a very mild case of the malady, and that Bella will be up in a day or two, aunt," said Alice. "Of course she will," replied the old lady, pettishly. "It 's just a cold and sore throat, — they had n't that fine name for it long ago, and people got well all the sooner. Is he gone ? " "No; he's talking with Mark in the library; he'll be telling him, I think, about the Commodore." "Well, don't ask him to stop to dinner; we have sorrow enough without seeing a doctor." "Oh, here comes Mark! Where is Dr. Reede?" "He's gone over to see Maitland. Fenton came to say that he wished to see him." DEPARTURES. 263 *' Surely he 's not ill," said Alice. "Ob, dear! what a misfortune that would be! " cried the old lady, w^ith real affliction in her tone; "to think of Mr. Norman Maitland taking ill in one's house." "Haven't you been over to ask after him, Mark?" "No. I was waiting till Reede came back: he 's one of those men that can't bear being inquired after; and if it should turn out that he was not ill, he 'd not take the anxiety in good part." "How he has contrived to play the tyrant to you all, I can't imagine," said Alice; "but I can see that every whim and caprice he practises is studied as courtiers study the moods of their masters." "To be sure, darling, naturally," broke in Mrs. Max- well, who always misunderstood everybody. "Of course, we are only too happy to indulge him in a whim or fancy; and if the doctor thinks turtle would suit him — turtle is so light; I took it for several weeks for luncheon — we can have it at once. Will you touch the bell, Mark, and I'll tell Raikes to telegraph? Who is it he gets it from ? " Mark pulled the bell, but took no notice of her question. "I wish," muttered he below his breath, "we had never come here. There 's Bella now, laid up, and here 's Mait- land. I 'm certain he 's going away, for I overheard Fenton ask about the distance to Dundalk." "I suppose we might survive even that misfortune," said she, haughtily. "And one thing I'll swear to," said Mark, walking the room with impatience, — "it's the last Ireland will see of him." "Poor Ireland! the failure in the potato-crop was bad enough, but th,is is more than can be endured." "That's all very fine, Alice, but I 'm much mistaken if you are as indifferent as you pretend." "Mark! what do you mean?" said she, angrily. "Here 's Raikes now; and will some one tell him what it is we want?" said Mrs. Maxwell; but the others were far too deeply engaged in their own whispered controversy now to mind her. 264 TONY BUTLER. "Captain Lyle will tell you by and by, Raikes," said she, gathering up the mass of loose impedimenta with which she usually moved from one room to the other, and by which, as they fell at every step, her course could always be tracked. "He'll tell you," added she, moving awa3\ "I think it was caviare, and you are to telegraph for it to Swan and Edgar's — but my head is confused to-day; I'll just go and lie down." As Mrs. Maxwell left by one door, Alice passed out by another; while Mark, whose temper evinced itself in a flushed cheek and a contracted brow, stood at a window, fretfully tapping the ground with his foot. "Have you any orders, sir?" asked Raikes. "Orders! No — stay a moment. Have many gone away this morning?" " Nearly all, sir. Except your family and Mr. Maitland, there 's nobody left but Major Clough, and he 's going, I believe, with Dr. Reede." "You 've heard nothing of Mr. Maitland going, have you?" "Oh, yes, sir! his man sent for post-horses about an hour ago." Muttering impatiently below his breath, Mark opened the window and passed out upon the lawn. What an unlucky turn had everything taken ! It was but a week ago, and his friend Maitland was in high delight with all around him. The country, the scenery, the people were all charming; indeed, in the intervals between the showers, he had a good word to say for the climate. As for Lyle Abbey, he pro- nounced it the perfection of a country-house; and Mark actually speculated on the time when these opinions of his distinguished friend would have acquired a certain currency, and the judgment of one that none disputed would be re- corded of his father's house. And all these successes were now to be reversed by this stupid old sailor's folly, — in- sanity he might call it; for what other word could charac- terize the pretension that could claim Norman Maitland for a son-in-law? — Maitland, that might have married, if the law would have let him, half a score of infantas and arch- duchesses, and who had but to choose throughout Europe the DEPARTURES. 265 alliance that would suit him. And Alice — what could Alice mean by this impertinent tone she was taking towards him? Had the great man's patience given way under it all, and was he really going away, wearied and tired out? While 3Iark thus doubted and reasoned and questioned, Maitland was seated at his breakfast at one side of the fire, while Dr. Reede confronted him at the other. Though Maitland had sent a message to say he wished to see the doctor, he only gave him now a divided attention, being deeply engaged, even as he talked, in deciphering a telegram which had just reached him, and which was only intelligible through a key to the cipher. "So, then, doctor, it is simply the return of an old attack, — a thing to be expected, in fact, at his time of life?" "Precisely, sir. He had one last autumn twelve month, brought on by a fit of passion. The old Commodore gives way, rather, to temper." "Ah! gives way, does he?" muttered Maitland, while he mumbled below his breath, " ' seventeen thousand and four D + X, and a gamba, ' — a very large blood-letting. By the way, doctor, is not bleeding — bleeding largely — a critical remedy with a man of seventy-six or seven ? " "Very much so, indeed, sir; and, if you observe, I only applied some leeches to the ymchce. You misapprehended me in thinking I took blood from him freely." "Oh, yes, very true," said Maitland, recovering himself. "I have no doubt you treated him with great judgment. It is a case, too, for much caution. Forty-seven and two G's," and he hastily turned over the leaves of his little book, muttering continually, "and two G's, forty-six, forty-seven, with two B's, two F's. Ah! here it is. Shivering attacks are dangerous — are they — in these cases ? " "In which cases? ", asked the doctor; for his shrewd in- telligence at once perceived the double object which Mait- land was trying to contemplate. "In a word, then," continued Maitland, not heeding the doctor's question, but bending his gaze fixedly on the piece of paper before him, scrawled over and blotted by his own hand, — "in a word, then, a man of seventy, seized with 266 TONY BUTLER. paralysis, and, though partially rallied by bleeding, attacked with shivering, is in a very critical state? But how long might he live in that way?" "We are not now speaking of Commodore Graham, I apprehend ? " asked the doctor, slyly. "No; I am simply putting a case, — a possible case. Doctors, I know, are not fond of these imagined emergen- cies; lawyers like them." "Doctors dislike them," broke in Reede, "because they are never given to them in any completeness, — every important sign of pulse and tongue and temperature omitted — " "Of course you are right," said Maitland, crumpling up the telegram and the other papers; "and now for the Com- modore. You are not apprehensive of anything serious, I hope? " "It 's an anxious case, sir, — a very anxious case; he 's eighty-four." "Eighty-four!" repeated Maitland, to whom the words conveyed a considerable significance. "Eighty-four! " repeated the other, once more. "No one would suspect it. Why, Sally Graham is the same age as my wife ; they were at school together. " Too polite to push a question which involved a double- shotted answer, Maitland merely said, "Indeed!" and, after a slight pause, added, "You said, I think, that the road to Dundalk led past Commodore Graham's cottage? " "By the very gate." "May 1 offer you a seat with me? I am going that way. I have received news which calls me suddenly to England." "I thank you much, but I have some visits yet to make before I return to Port-Graham. I promised to stop the night there." Having charged the doctor to convey to the Commodore's daughters his sincere regret for their father's illness, and his no less sincere hope of a speedy recovery, Maitland endeavored, in recognition of a preliminary question or two about himself, to press the acceptance of a fee; but the doctor, armed with that self-respect and tact his profession so eminently upholds, refused to accept it, and took his DEPARTURES. 267 leave, perhaps well requited in having seen and spoken with the great Mr. Norman Maitland, of whom half the country round were daily talking. "Mr. Maitland is not ill, I hope?" said Alice, as she met the doctor on his way through the garden. ''No, Mrs. Trafford; I have been making a friendly call — no more," said the doctor, rather vain that he could thus designate his visit; and with a few words of advice about her sister, he went his way. Alice, meanwhile, saw that Maitland had observed her from his window, and rightly guessed that he would soon be in search of her. With that feminine instinct that never deceives in such cases, she determined that whatever was to pass between them should be undisturbed. She selected a most unfre- quented path, bordered on one side by the high laurel-hedge, and on the other by a little rivulet, beyond which lay some rich meadows, backed in the distance by a thick plantation. She had not gone far when she heard a short quick foot- step behind her, and in a few minutes Maitland was at her side. ''You forgot to liberate me," said he, "so I had to break my arrest." ''^Signor mio, you must forgive me; we have had such a morning of confusion and trouble : first, Bella ill, — not seriously, but confined to bed ; and then this poor old Com- modore, — the doctor has told you all about it ; and, last of all, Mark storming about the house, and angry with every one for having caught cold or a fever, and so disgusted (the great) Mr. Maitland that he is actually hurrying awa}^, with a vow to heaven nevermore to put foot in Ireland." " Be a little serious, and tell me of your mission this morning," said he, gravely. ''Three words will do it. We reached Port-Graham just as the doctor arrived there. The Commodore, it seemed, got home all safe by about four o'clock in the morning ; and instead of going to bed, ordered a fire in his dressing-room, and a bottle of mulled port ; with which aids to comfort he sat down to write. It would not appear, however, that he had got far in his correspondence, for at six, when his man entered, he found but two lines, and his master, as he thought, fast asleep ; but which proved to be a fit of some 288 TONY BUTLER. kind, for he was perfectly insensible. He rallied, however, and recognized his servant, and asked for the girls. And DOW Dr. Reede thinks that the danger has in a great measure passed off, and that all will go well." ''It is most unhappy, — most unhappy," muttered Mait- land. "I am sincerely sorry for it all." " Of course you are, though perhaps not really to blame, — at least, not blamable in a high degree." " Not in any degree, Mrs. Trafford." "That must be a matter of opinion. At all events, your secret is safe, for the old man has totally forgotten all that occurred last night between you ; and lest any clew to it should remain, I carried away tjie beginning of the letter he was writing. Here it is." " How thoughtfully done ! " said he, as he took the paper and read aloud : " ' Dear Triphook, come over and help me to a shot at a rascal ' — not civil, certainly — ' at a rascal ; that because he calls himself — ' It was well he got no further," added he, with a faint smile. " A good, bold hand it is too for such an old man. I declare, Mr. Maitland, I think your usual luck must have befriended you here. The fingers that held the pen so steadily might have been just as unshaken with the pistol." There was something so provocative in her tone that Mait- land detected the speech at once, and became curious to trace it to a cause. At this sally, however, he only smiled in silence. " I tried to persuade Mark to drive over and see Tony Butler," continued she, " but he would n't consent : in fact, a general impulse to be disobliging would appear to have seized on the world just now. Don't you think so?" " By the way, I forgot to tell you that your prot'^ge Butler refuses to accept my offer. I got three lines from him, very dry and concise, saying ' no ' to me. Of course I trust to your discretion never to disclose the negotiation in any way. I myself shall never speak of it; indeed, I am very little given to doing civil things, and even less accus- tomed to finding them ill-received, so that my secrecy is insured." " He ought not to have refused," said she, thoughtfully. DEPARTURES. 2G9 "Perhaps not." " He ought certainly to have given the matter more con- sideration. I wish I could have been consulted by him. Is it too late yet ? " '' I suspect it is," said he, dryly. " First of all, as I told you, I am little in the habit of meeting a repulse; and, secondly, there is no time to renew the negotiation. I must leave this to-day." "To-day?" "Within an hour," added he, looking at his watch; "I must manage to reach Dublin in time to catch the mail- packet to-morrow morning." " This is very sudden, this determination." " Yes, I am called away by tidings I received awhile ago, — tidings of, to me, the deepest importance." " Mark will be extremely sorry," said she, in a low tone. "Not sorrier than I am," said he, despondently. "We all counted on your coming back with us to the Abbey ; and it was only awhile ago Bella begged that we should wait here for a day or two, that we might return together, a family party." "What a flattery there is in the phrase!" said he, with deep feeling. " You don't know," continued she, "what a favorite you are with my mother. I dare not trust myself to repeat how she speaks of you." " Why will you multiply my regrets, Mrs. Trafford ? Why will you make my parting so very, very painful ? " " Because I prefer that you should stay ; because I speak in the name of a whole house who will be afflicted at your going." " You have told me of all save one," said he, in a voice of deepest feeling; " I want to learn what she thinks." "She thinks that if Mr. Maitland's good-nature be only on a par with his other qualities, he would sooner face the tiresomeness of a stupid house than make the owners of it feel that they bored him." " She does not think anything of the kind," said he, with a peculiar smile. " She knows that there is no question of good nature or of boredom in the matter at all ; but there is 270 TONY BUTLER. something at stake far more touching than either." He waited to see if she would speak, but as she was silent he went on : "I will be honest, if yoii will not. I am not going away of my freewill. T have been called by a telegram this morning to the Continent ; the matter is so pressing that — shall I confess it? — if this stupid meeting with the Commodore had been arranged, I should have been a de- faulter. Yes, I 'd have made I don't well know what explanation to account for my absence. I can imagine what comments would have been passed upon my conduct. I feel very painfully, too, for the part I should have left to such of my friends liere as would defend me, and yet have not a fragment to guide their defence. And still, with all these before me, 1 repeat, I would have gone away, so imminent is the case that calls me, and so much is the matter one that involves the whole future of my life. And now," said he, while his voice became fuller and bolder, " that I have told you this, I am ready to tell you more, and to say that at one word of yours — one little word — I '11 remain." "And what may that word be?" said she, quietly; for while he was speaking she had been preparing herself for some such issue. " I need not tell you," said he, gravely. " Supposing, then, that I guess it, — I am not sure that I do, — but suppose that, — and could it not be just as well said by another, — by Bella, for instance ? " " Y^ou know it could not. This is only fencing, for you know it could not." " Y^ou mean, in fact, that I should say, ' don't go? ' " "Tdo." "Well, I 'm willing enough to say so, if my words are not to convey more than I intend by them." " I '11 risk even that," said he, quickly. " Put your name to the bond, and we '11 let lawyers declare what it is worth after." " You frighten me, Mr. Maitland," said she, and her tone showed that now at least she was sincere. "Listen to me for one moment, Alice," said he, taking ber hand as he walked beside her. " You are fully as much the mistress of your fate as I am master of mine. Y^ou may ^ OF THE UNIVERSITY }) CF J ^*^^54i££gS^^^EPAIlTURES. 271 consult, but you need not obey. Had it been otherwise, I never would have dared on a hardihood that would probably have wrecked my hopes. It is just as likely I never could satisfy the friends about you on the score of my fortune, — my means, — my station, and so on. It is possible, too, that scandal, which makes free with better men, may not have spared 7ne, and that they who would have the right to advise you might say, ' Beware of that dreadful man.' I repeat, this is an ordeal my pride would feel it hard to pass through ; and so I come to you, in all frankness, and declare I love 3"ou. To you — you alone — I will give every guarantee that a man may give of his honor and honesty. I will tell all my past, and so much as I mean for the future ; and in return, I only ask for time, — nothing but time, Alice. I am not asking you for any pledge, simply that you will give me — what you would not have refused a mere acquaintance — the happiness of seeing j^ou daily ; and if — if, I say, you yourself should not deem the hand and the love I offer beneath you, — if you should be satisfied with the claims of him who would share his fortune with you, — that then — not till then — others should hear of it. Is this too much for me to ask, or you to give, Alice?" " Even now I do not know what you ask of me." " First of all, that you bid me stay." " It is but this moment you have declared to me that what calls you away is of the very last importance to you in life." "The last but one, Alice, — the last is here;" and he kissed her hand as he spoke, but still with an air so deferent that she could not resent it. "I cannot consent that it shall be so," said she, with energy. " It is true I am my own mistress, and there is but the greater reason why I should be more cautious. We are almost strangers to each other. All the flattery of your pro- fessions — and of Course, I feel it as flattery — does not blind me to the fact that I scarcely know you at all." " Why not consent to know me more? " asked he, almost imploringly. " I agree, if no pledge is to accompany my consent." " Is not this a somewhat hard condition? " said he, with a 272 TONY BUTLER. voice of passionate meaning. "You bid me, in one word, place all that I have of hope on the issue, — not even on that, but simply for leave to play the game. Is this gener- ous, Alice, — is it even just?" " You bewilder me with all these subtleties, and I might ask if this were either just or generous ; but at least, I will be frank. I like you very well. I think it not at all impossible that I might like you better ; but even after that, Mr. Mait- land, there would be a long stage to travel to that degree of regard which you profess to desire from me. Do I make myself understood?" " Too well for me and m^^ hopes ! " said he, despondingly. " You are able, however, to impose hard conditions." " I impose none, sir. Do not mistake me." " You leave none others open to me, at least, and I accept them. To give me even that faint chance of success, how- ever, I must leave this to-day. Is it not better I should ? " "I really cannot advise," said she, with a well-assumed coldness. " Even contingently, Mrs. Trafford will not involve herself in my fortunes," said he. half haughtily. " Well, my journej' to Ireland, amongst other benefits, has taught me a lesson that all my wanderings never imparted. I have at last learned something of humility. Good-b3^e." "Good-bye, Mr. Maitland," said she, with calm, but evidently not without effort. He stooped and kissed her hand, held it for a moment or two in his own, and with a very faint "Good-bye," turned away and left her. He turned suddenl}^ around after a few paces, and came back. "May I ask one question, Alice, before I go?" " I don't know whether I shall answer it," said she, with a faint smile. "I cannot afford to add jealousy to my other torments. Tell me, then — " "Take care, sir, take care; your question ma}^ cost 3'ou more than you think of." "Good-bye, — good-bye," said he, sadly, and departed. "Are the horses ready, Fenton? " asked he, as his servant came to meet him. DEPARTURES. 273 *' Yes, sir ; and Captain Lyle has been looking for you all over the garden." "He's going, — he's off, Bella," said Alice, as she sat down beside her sister's bed, throwing her bonnet care- lessly down at her feet. "Who is going? — who is off?" asked Bella, eagerly. " Of course," continued Alice, following up her own thoughts, "to say 'Stay' means more than I like to be pledged to, — I couldn't do it." " Poor Tony ! — give him my love, Alice, and tell him I shall often think of him, — as often as ever I think of bygone days and all their happiness." " And why must it be Tony that I spoke of? " said Alice, rising, while a deep crimson flush covered her face and brow. " I think Master Tony has shown us latterly that he has for- gotten the long ago, and has no wish to connect us with thoughts of the future." 18 CHAPTER XXX. CONSPIRATORS. In one of those low-ceilinged apartments of a Parisian hotel which modern luxury seems peculiai'ly to affect, decorating the walls with the richest hangings, and gathering together promiscuously objects of art and vlrth,^ along with what can minister to voluptuous ease, Maitland and Caffarelli were now seated. They had dined, and their coffee stood before them on a table spread with a costly dessert and several bottles, whose length of neck and color indicated choice liquor. They lounged in the easiest of chairs in the easiest of atti- tudes, and, as they puffed their havannahs, did not ill-repre- sent in tableau the luxurious self-indulgence of the age we live in. For let us talk as we will of progress and mental activity, be as boastful as we may about the march of science and discovery, in what are we so really conspicuous as in the inventions that multiply ease, and bring the means of indulgence within the reach of even moderate fortune? As the wood fire crackled and flared on the ample hearth, a heavy plash of hail struck the window, and threatened almost to smash it. " AYhat a night! "said Maitland, drawing closer to the blaze. "I say, Carlo mio, it's somewhat cosier to sit in this fashion than be toddling over the Mont Cenis in a shabby old sledge, and listening to the discussion whether you are to spend the night in the ' Refuge No. One, or No. Two.' " " Yes," said Caffarelli, " it must have been a great relief to you to have got my telegram in Dublin, and to know that you need not cross the Alps." " If I could only have been certain that I understood it aright, I 'd have gone straight back to the north from whence CONSPIRATORS. 275 I came ; but there was a word that puzzled me, — the word calamita. Now we have not yet arrived at the excelleuce of accenting foreign words in our telegraph offices ; and as your most amiable and philosophical of all nations has but the same combination of letters to express an attraction and an affliction, I was sorely puzzled to make out whether you wrote with or without an accent on the last syllable. It made all the difference in the world whether you say events are a ' loadstone ' or a ' misfortune.' I gave half an hour to the study of the passage, and then came on." "Per Bacco! I never thought of that; but what, under any circumstances, would have induced 3^ou to go back again ? " '' I fell in love ! " Caffarelli pushed the lamp aside to have a better view of his friend, and then laughed long and heartily. " Maso Arretini used often to say, ' Maitland will die a monk ; ' and I begin now to believe it is quite possible." " Maso was a fool for his prediction. Had I meant to be a monk, I 'd have taken to the cowl when I had youth and vigor and dash in me, the qualities a man ought to bring to a new career. Ha ! what is there so strange in the fact that I should fall in love? " " Don't ask as if you were offended with me, and I'll try and tell you." *' I am calm; go on." " First of all, Maitland, no easy conquest would satisfy your vanity, and you 'd never have patience to pursue a difficult one. Again, the objects that really have an attrac- tion for you — such as Ambition and Power — have the same fascination for you that high play has for a gambler. You do not admit nor understand any other ; and, last of all, — one is nothing if not frank in these cases, — you 'd never believe any woman was lovely enough, clever enough, or graceful enough to be worthy of Norman Maitland." "The candor has been perfect. I'll try and imitate it," said Maitland, filling his glass slowly, and slightly wetting his lips. "All you have just said, Carlo, would be unim- peachable if all women were your countrywomen, and if love were what it is understood to be in an Italian city ; but 276 TONY BUTLER. there are such things in this dreary laud of fog and snow- drift as women who do not believe intrigue to be the chief object of human existence, who have fully as much self- respect as they have coquetry, and who would regard no addresses so offensive as those that would reduce them to the level of a class with which they would not admit com- panionship." ''Bastions of virtue that I never ask to lay siege to!" broke out the other, laughing. " Don't believe it, Carlo. You'd like the campaign well, if you only knew how to conduct it. Why, it's not more than a week ago I quitted a country-house where there were more really pretty women than you could number in the crowd of one of your ball-rooms on either Arno or Tiber." "And, in the name of Heaven, why didn't you bring over one of them at least, to strike us with wonderment and devotion ? " "Because I would not bring envy, malice, and jealousy to all south of tlie Alps ; because I would not turn all 3^our heads, or torment your hearts ; and lastly, because — she would n't come. No, Carlo, she would n't come." " And you really asked her?" "Yes. At first I made the lamentable blunder of address- ing her as I should one of your own dark-skinned damsels, but the repulse I met taught me better. I next tried the serious line, but I failed there also ; not hopelessly, how- ever, — at least, not so hopelessly as to deter me from another attempt. Yes, yes ; I understand your smile, and I know your theory, — there never was a bunch of grapes yet that was worth going on tiptoe to gather." " Not that, but there are scores within reach quite as good as one cares for," said Caffarelli, laughing. " What are you thinking of?" asked he, after a pause. " I was thinking what possible hope there was for a nation of twenty millions of men, with temperament like yours, — fellows so ingrained in indolence that the first element they weigh in every enterprise was, how little trouble it was to cost them." "I declare," said the Italian, with more show of energy, CONSPIRATORS. 277 •' I 'd hold life as cheaply as yourself if T had to live in your country, — breathe only fogs, and inhale nothing pleasanter than coal- smoke." "It is true," said Maitland, gravely, "the English have not got climate, — they have only weather ; but who is to say if out of the vicissitudes of our skies we do not derive that rare activity which makes us profit by every favorable emergency? " " To do every conceivable thing but one." " And what is that one? " " Enjoy yourselves ! Oh, caro amico^ you do with regard to your pleasures what you do with your music, — you steal a little from the Continent, and always spoil it in the adaptation." ]Maitland sipped his wine in half-sullen silence for some minutes, and then said, "You think then, really, we ought to be at Naples?" " I am sure of it. Baretti. — do you forget Baretti? he had the wine-shop at the Qnd of the Contrada St. Lucia." " I remember him as a Camorrista." " The same; he is here now. He tells me that the Court is so completely in the hands of the Queen that they will not hear of any danger ; that they laugh every time Cavour is mentioned ; and now that both France and England liave withdrawn their envoys, the King says openly, ' It is a pleasure to drive out on the Chiaja when one knows they '11 not meet a French gendarme or an English detective.' " " And what does Baretti say of popular feeling? " "He says the people would like to do something, though nobody seems to know what it ought to be. They thought that Milano's attempt t 'other day was clever, and they think it might n't be bad to blow up the Emperor, or perhaps the Pope, or both ; but he also says that the Camorra are open to reason, and that Victor Emmanuel and Cavour are as legitimate food for an explosive shell as the others; and, in fact, any convul- sion that will smash the shutters and lead to pillage must be good." " You think Baretti can be depended on? " "I know he can. He has been Capo Camorrista eight 278 TONY BUTLER. years in one of the vilest quarters of Naples ; and if there were a suspicion of him, he 'd have been stabbed long ago." " And what is he doing here? " "He came here to see whether anything could be done about assassinating the Emperor." "I'd not have seen him, Carlo. It was most unwise to have spoken with him." " What would you have?" said the other, with a shrug of his shoulders. "He came to set this clock to rights, — it plays some half-dozen airs from Mercadante and Verdi, — and he knows how to arrange them. He goes every morning to the Tuileries, to Moquard, the Emperor's secretary : he, too, has an Italian musical clock, and he likes to chat with Baretti." " I distrust these fellows greatly." " That is so English ! " said Caffarelli ; " but we Italians have a finer instinct for knavery, just as we have a finer ear for music ; and as we detect a false note, so we smell a treachery, where you John Bulls would neither suspect one or the other. Baretti sees the Prince Napoleon, too, almost every day, and with Pietri he is like a brother." " But we can have no dealings with a fellow that harbors such designs." " Caro amico^ don't you know by this time that no Italian of the class of this fellow ever imagines any other disentanglement in a political question than by the stiletto? It is you, or I, or somebody else, must, as they phrase it, ' pay with his skin.' Fortunately for the world, there is more talk than action in all this ; but if you were to oppose it, and say, ' None of this,' you VI only be the first victim. We put the knife in politics just as the Spanish put garlic in cookery : we don't know any other seasoning, and it has always agreed with our digestion." " Can Giacomo come in to wind up the clock, Eccel- lenza?" said Caffarelli's servant, entering at the moment; and as the Count nodded an assent, a fat, large, bright- eyed man of about forty entered, with a mellow frank coun- tenance, and an air of happy joyous contentment that might have sat admirably on a well-to-do farmer. CONSPIRATORS. 279 "Come over and have a glass of wine, Giacomo," said the Count, filling a large glass to the brim with Burgundy ; and the Italian bowed with an air of easy politeness first to the Count and next to Maitland, and then, after slightly tasting the liquor, retired a little distance from the table, glass in hand. "My friend here," said the Count, with a motion of his band towards Maitland, " is one of ourselves, Giacomo, and you may speak freely before him." " I have seen the noble signor before," said Giacomo, bowing respectfully, "at Naples, with His Royal Highness the Count of Syracuse." "The fellow never forgets a face; nobody escapes him," muttered Caffarelli ; while he added, aloud, " Well, there are few honester patriots in Italy than the Count of Syracuse." Giacomo smiled, and showed a range of white teeth, with a pleasant air of acquiescence. "And what is stirring? — what news have you for us, Giacomo?" asked Caffarelli. " Nothing, Eccellenza, — positively nothing. The French seem rather to be growing tired of us Italians, and begin to ask, 'What, in the name of wonder, do we really want?* and even his Majesty the Emperor t'other day said to one of ours, ' Don't be importunate.' " "And will you tell me that the Emperor would admit to his presence and speak with fellows banded in a plot against his life?" asked Maitland, contemptuously. "Does the noble signor know that the Emperor was a Carbonaro once, and that he never forgets it? Does the noble signor know that there has not been one plot against his life — not one — of which he has not been duly apprised and warned ? " " If I understand you aright, Master Giacomo, then, it is that these alleged schemes of assassination are simply plots to deliver up to the Emperor the two or three amongst 3'ou who may be sincere in their blood thirstiness. Is that so?" Far from seeming offended at the tone or the tenor of this speech, Giacomo smiled good-naturedly, and said, "I per- ceive that the noble sis:nor is not well informed either as 280 TONY BUTLER. to our objects or our organization ; nor does he appear to know, as your Excellency knows, that all secret societies have a certain common brotherhood." "What! does he mean when opposed to each other?" "He does, and he is right, Maitland. As bankers have their changing-houses, these fellows have their appointed places of meeting ; and you might see a Jesuit in talk with a Garibaldian, and a wild revolutionist with one of the Pope's household." " The real pressure of these fellows." whispered the Count, still lower, " is menace! Menace it was brought about the war with Austria, and it remains to be seen if menace can- not undo its consequences. Killing a king is trying an unknown remedy ; threatening to kill him is coercing his policy. And what are you about just now, Giacomo?" added he, louder. "Little jobs here and there, signor, as I get them; but this morning, as I was mending a small organ at the Due de Broglie's, an agent of the police called to say I had better leave Paris." " And when? " " To-night, sir. I leave by the midnight mail for Lyons, and shall be in Turin by Saturday." " And will the authorities take his word, and suffer him to go his road without surveillance? " whispered Maitland. " -S'i, signor!'' interposed Giacomo, whose quick Italian ear had caught the question. " I won't say that they'll not telegraph down the whole line, and that at every station a due report will not be made of me ; but I am prepared for that, and I take good care not even to ask a light for my cigar from any one who does not wear a French uniform." " If I had authority here. Master Giacomo," said Mait- land, "it's not you, nor fellows like you, I'd set at liberty." "And the noble signor would make a great mistake, that's all." "Why so?" " It would be like destroying the telegraph wires because one received an unpleasant despatch," said Giacomo, with a grin. CONSPIRATORS. 281 *' The fellow avows, then, that he is a spy, and betrays his fellows," whispered Maitlaud. " I 'd be very sorry to tell him so, or hear you tell him so," whispered the Count, with a laugh. "Well, Giacomo," added he, aloud, " I'll not detain you longer. We shall probably be on t' other side of the Alps ourselves in a few daj^s, and shall meet again. A pleasant journey and a safe one to you ! " He adroitly slipped some napoleons into the man's hand as he spoke. '' Tuntl salutl to all our friends, Giacomo," said he, waving his hand in adieu ; and Giacomo seized it and kissed it twice with an almost rapturous devotion, and withdrew. " Well," cried Maitland, with an irritable vibration in his tone, " this is clear and clean beyond me. What can you or I have in common with a fellow of this stamp ; or supposing that we could have anything, how should we trust him ? " •'Do you imagine that the nobles will ever sustain the monarchy, my dear Maitland ; or in what country have you ever found that the highest in class were freest of their blood? It is Giacomo, and the men like him, who defend kings to-day that they may menace them to-morrow. These fellows know well that with what is called a constitutional government and a parliament the king's life signifies next to nothing, and their own trade is worthless. They might as well shoot a President of the Court of Cassation ! Besides, if we do not treat with these men, the others will. Take my word for it, our king is wiser than either of us, and he never despised the Camorra. But I know what you 're afraid of, Maitland," said he, laughing, — "what you and all 3'our countrymen tremble before, — that precious thing you call public opinion, and your 'Times' newspaper! There's the whole of it. To be arraigned as a regicide, and called the companion of this, that, or t' other creature, who was or ought to have been guillotined, is too great a shock for your Anglican respectability ; and really I had fancied you were Italian enough to take a different view of this." Maitland leaned his head on his hand, and seemed to muse for some minutes. " Do you know. Carlo," said he, at last, " I don't think I 'm made for this sort of thing. This frater- nizing with scoundrels — for scoundrels they are — is a 282 TONY BUTLER. rude lesson. This waitiug for the mot Wordre from a set of fellows who work in the dark is not to my humor. I had hoped for a fair stand-up fight, where the best man should win; and what do we see before us? Not the cause of a throne defended by the men who are loyal to their king, but a vast lottery, out of which any adventurer is to draw the prize. So far as I can see it, we are to go into a revolution to secure a monarchy." Caffarelli leaned across the table and filled Maitland's glass to the brim, and then replenished his own. " Caro mio^'' said he, coaxingly, '' don't brood and despond in this fashion, but tell me about this charming Irish beauty. Is she a brunette ? " "No; fair as a lily, but not like the blond damsels you have so often seen, with a certain timidity of look that tells of weak and uncertain purpose. She might by her air and beauty be a queen." " And her name?" " Alice — Alicia, some call it." " Alice is better. And how came she to be a widow so very young? What is her story?" "I know nothing of it; how should I? I could tell nothing of my own," said Maitland, sternly. " Rich as well as beautiful, — what a prize, Maitland ! I can scarcely imagine why you hesitate about securing it." Maitland gave a scornful laugh, and with a voice of bitter- ness said: "Certainly my pretensions are great. I have fortune — station — family — name — and rank to offer her. Can you not remind me. Carlo, of some other of my immense advantages?" "I know this much," said the other, doggedly, "that I never saw you fail in anything you ever attempted." "I had the trick of success once," said Maitland, sor- rowfully, " but I seem to have lost it. But, after all, what would success do for me here, but stamp me as an adventurer? " " You did not argue in that fashion two years ago, when you were going to marry a Spanish princess, and the half- sister of a queen." "Well, I have never regretted that I broke off the match. CONSPIRATORS. 283 It estranged me, of course, from him; and indeed he has never forgiven me." " He might, however, now, if he saw that you could estab- lish your fortunes so favorably, — don't you think so?" " No, Carlo. It is all for rank and title, not for money, that he cares ! His whole game in life was played for the Peerage. He wanted to be ' My Lord ; ' and though repeat- edly led to believe he was to have the title, the Minister put off, and put off, and at last fell from power without keeping his pledge. Now in this Spanish business he bargained that I was to be a Duke, — a Grandee of Spain. The Queen declared it impossible. Munos himself was refused. The dukedom, however, I could have. With the glitter of that ducal coronet before his eyes, he paid three hundred thou- sand francs I lost at the Jockey Club in Paris, and he merely said, ' Your luck in love has been somewhat costly, — don't play such high stakes again.' " "He is tres (jrand seigneur!'* said the Italian, with a voice of intense admiration and respect. ''Yes," said Maitland; ''in every case where mere money enters, he is princely. I never met a man who thought less of his gold. The strange thing is, that it is his ambition which exhibits him so small! " "Adagio, adagio, caro mio!" cried Caffarelli, laughing. "I see where you are bound for now. You are going to tell me, as you have some score of times, that to all English estimation our foreign titles are sheer nonsense; that our pauper counts and beggarly dukes are laughing matter for even your Manchester folk; and that in your police code baron and blackleg are synonyms. Now spare me all this, caro Maitland, for I know it by heart." "If one must say such impertinences, it is well to say them to a cardinal's nephew." The slight flush of temper in the Italian's cheek gave way at once, and he asked good-humoredly, as he said, " Better say them to me, certainly, than to my uncle. But, to be practical, if he does attach so much importance to rank and title, why do you not take that countship of Amalfi the King offered you six months ago, and which, to this day, he is in doubt whether you have accepted or refused ? " 284 TONY BUTLER. "How do you know that?" asked Maitland, eagerly. "I know it in this wise; that when his Majesty mentioned your name t' other day to Filangieri, he said, ' The Chevalier Maitlan(^ or Count of Amalfi, — I don't know by which name he likes to call himself.'" "Are you sure of this? " "I heard it; I was present when he said it." "If I did not accept when it was offered, the reason was this: I thought that the first time I wrote myself Count of Amalfi, old Santarelli would summon me before him to show birth and parentage, and fifty other particulars which I could have no wish to see inquired after; and as the title of Amalfi was one once borne by a cadet of the royal family, he 'd have been all the more exacting in his perquisitions before inscribing my name in that precious volume he calls the ' Libro d'Oro.' If, however, you tell me that the King considers that I have accepted the rank, it gives the matter another aspect." "I suspect poor old Santarelli has very little heart for herakhy just now. He has got a notion that the first man the Revolutionists will hang will be himself, representing, as he does, all the privileges of feudalism." "There is one way to do it if it could be managed," said Maitland, pondering. "Three lines in the King's hand, addressing me ' The Chevalier Maitland, Count of Amalfi! ' With these I 'd defy all the heralds that ever carried a painted coat in a procession." "If that be all, I'll promise you it. I am writing to Filangieri to-morrow. Let me have some details of what men you have recruited and what services you have ren- dered, briefly, not formally; and I'll say, 'If our master would vouchsafe in his own hand a line, a word even, to the Count of Amalfi, it would be a recompense he would not exchange for millions.' I '11 say ' that the letter could be sent to Ludolf at Turin, where we shall probably be in a week or two.' " "And do you think the King will accede?" "Of course he will. We are not asking for a pension, or leave to shoot at Caserta. The thing is the same as done. Kings like a cheap road out of their indebtedness as well CONSPIRATORS. ' 285 as humbler people. If not, they would never have invented crosses and grand cordons." "Now, let us concoct the thing regularly," said Maitland, pushing the decanters from before him, as though, by a gesture, to show that he had turned from all conviviality to serious considerations. '"You," continued he, "will, first of all, write to Filangieri." "Yes. I will say, half incidentally, as it were, Maitland is here with me, as eager as the warmest of us in the cause. He has been eminently successful in his recruitment, of which he will soon send you details — " "Ay, but how? That fellow M'Caskey, who has all the papers, did not meet me as I ordered him, and I cannot tell where he is." "I am to blame for this, Maitland, for I ordered him to come over here, as the most certain of all ways of seeing you." "And he is here now?" "Yes. Arrived last night. In the hope of your arrival, I gave him a rendezvous here — any hour from ten to one or two to-night — and we shall soon see him." "I must confess, I don't care how brief the interview be: the man is not at all to my liking." "You are not likely to be much bored by him here, at least." "How do you mean? " "The police are certain to hear of his arrival, and to give him a friendly hint to arrange his private affairs with all convenient despatch and move off." "With what party or section do they connect him? " "With how many? you might perhaps ask; for I take it he has held office with every shade of opinion, and intrigued for any cause from Henry V. to the reddest republicanism. The authorities, however, always deal with a certain cour- tesy to a man of this sort. They intimate, simply. We are aware you are here, — we know pretty well for what; and so don't push us to any disagreeable measures, but cross over into Belgium or Switzerland. M'Caskey himself told me he was recognized as he drew up at the hotel, and, in conse- quence, thinks he shall have to go on in a day or two." 286 TONY BUTLER. "Is uot the fellow's vanity in some measure a reason for this? Does he not rather plume himself on being Vhonime dangereux to all Europe ? " " In conversation he would certainly give this idea, but not in fact. He is marvellously adroit in all his dealings with the authorities, and in nothing is he more subtle than in the advantage he takes of his own immense conceit. He invariably makes it appear that vanity is his weak point; or, as he phrases it himself, ' I always show my adversary so much of my hand as will mislead him.' " ''And is he really as deep as all this would imply?" "Very deep for an Englishman; fully able to cope with the cunningest of his own people, but a child amongst ours, Maitland." Maitland laughed scornfully as he said, "For the real work of life all your craft avails little. No man ever cut his way through a wood with a penknife, were it ever so sharp." "The Count M'Caskey, Eccellenza, desires to know if you receive?" said Caffarelli's servant, in a low tone. "Yes, certainly; but do not admit any one else." Very significant — but very differently significant — were the looks that passed between Maitland and Caffarelli in the brief interval before M'Caskey entered. At last the door was flung wide, and the distinguished Major appeared in full evening dress, one side of his coat a blaze of stars and crosses, while in front of his cravat he wore the ribbon and collar of some very showy order. Nothing could be easier than his entree; nothing less embarrassed than his saluta- tion to each in turn, as, throwing his white gloves into his hat, he drew over to the table, and began to search for an unused wine-glass. "Here is a glass," said Caffarelli. " What will 3'ou drink ? This is Bordeaux, and this is some sort of Hock; this is Moselle." "Hand me the sherry; I am chilly. I have been chilly all day, and went out to dine against my will." "Where did you dine?" "With Plon-Plon," said he, languidly. "With the Prince Napoleon?" asked Maitland, incredu- lously. CONSPIRATORS. 287 **Yes; he insisted on it. I wrote to him to say that La Verrier, the sous-prefect, had invited me to make as short a delay at Paris as was consistent with my perfect conven- ience, — the police euphuism for twenty-four hours ; and I said, ' Pray excuse me at dinner, for I shall want to see Caffarelli. ' But he would n't take any apology, and I went, and we really were very pleasant." "Who was there?" asked Caffarelli. ''Only seven altogether: Bagration and his pretty niece; an Aldobrandini Countess, — bygone, but still handsome; Joseph Poniatowsky; Botrain of 'La Patrie;' and your humble servant. Fould, I think, was expected, but did not come. Fearfully hot, this sherry, — don't you think so?" Maitland looked superbly defiant, and turned his head away without ceremony. Caffarelli, however, came quickly to the rescue by pushing over a bottle of Burgundy, and saying, "And it was a pleasant party? " "Yes, decidedly pleasant," said M'Caskey, with the air of one pronouncing a judicial opinion. "The women were nice, very well dressed, — the little Russian, especially; and then we talked away as people only do talk in Paris, where there is none of that rotten cant of London, and no subject discussed but the little trivialities of daily life." Caffarelli's eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as he watched the expansive vanity in M'Caskey's face, and the disgust that darkened in Maitland' s. "We had a little of everything," said M'Caskey, with his head thrown back and two fingers of one hand jauntily stuck in his waistcoat pocket- "We had politics, — Plon-Plon's own peculiar politics, — Europe a democracy, and himself the head of it. We discussed dinners and dinner-givers, — a race fast dying out. We talked a little finance, and, lastly, women." "Your own theme! " said Caffarelli, with a slight inclina- tion of the head. "Without vanity I might say it was. Poor old D'Orsay always said, ' Scratch M'Caskey, and I'll back myself for success against any man in Europe.' " Maitland started as if a viper had bitten him; but by an effort he seemed to restrain himself, and, taking out his cigar-case, began a diligent search for a cigar. 288 TONY BUTLER. *'Ha, cheroots, I see? " cried M'Caskey; "cheroots are a weakness of mine. Pick me out a well-spotted one, will you ? " Maitland threw the case as it was across the table to him without a word. M'Caskey selected some six or eight, and laid them beside him. "You are low, depressed, this evening, Maitland," said he; "what 's the matter with you? " "No, sir, not depressed, — disgusted." "Ah, disgusted!" said M'Caskey, slowly; and his small eyes twinkled like two balls of fire. "Would it be indis- creet to ask the cause? " "It would be very indiscreet, Count M'Caskey," inter- posed Caffarelli, " to forget that you are here purely on a grave matter of business, — far too grave to be compromised by any forgetfulness on the score of temper." "Yes, sir," broke in Maitland; "there can alwa^-s be found a fitting time and place to arrange any small ques- tions outstanding between you and me. We want now to learn something of what you have done in Ireland lately, for the King's service." M'Caskey drew from his pocket a much- worn pocket-book, crammed to bursting with a variety of loose papers, cards, and photographs, which fell about as he opened it. Not heeding the disorder, he sought out a particular page, and read aloud: "Embarked this twenty-second of September, at Gravesend, on board the ' Ocean Queen,' bound for Messina with machinery, two hundred and eleven laborers — laborers engaged for two years — to work on the State railroads, twenty-eight do. do. on board of the ' Star of Swansea,' for Molo de Gaeta with coals, — making, with three hundred and eighty-two already despatched, within about thirty of the first battalion of the Cacciatori of St. Patrick." "Well done! bravissimo!" cried Caffarelli, right glad to seize upon the opportunity to restore a pleasanter under- standing. "There 's not a man amongst them would not be taken in the Guards ; and they who regard height of stature as the first element of the soldier — amongst whom I am not one — would pronounce them magnificent! " CONSPIRATORS. 289 "And are many more available of the same sort?" asked Caffarelli. "Ten thousand, sir, if you like to pay for them." "Do these men understand that they are enlisted as sol- diers, not engaged as navvies?" asked Maitland. "As well as you do. Whatever our friend Caffarelli may think, I can tell him that my countrymen are no more defi- cient in acuteness than his own. These fellows know the cause just as well as they know the bounty." "I was not inquiring as to their sympathies," said Mait- land, caustically; "I merely wanted to hear how they under- stood the contract." "They are hirelings, of course, as I am, and as you are," said M'Caskey. "By what presumption, sir, do you speak of me?" said Maitland, rising, his face dark with passion. "If the acci- dents of life range us in the same cause, is there any other tie or bond between us ? " "Once more I declare I will have none of this," said Caffarelli, pushing Maitland down into his chair. "Count M'Caskey, the Central Committee have placed you under my orders. These orders are that you report yourself to General Filangieri at Naples as soon as you can arrive there ; that you duly inform the Minister at War of what steps you have already taken in the recruitment, putting your- self at his disposition for further service. Do you want money ? " added he in a lower tone, as he drew the Major aside. "A man always wants money, sir," said M'Caskey, sententiously. "I am your banker: what shall it be?" said Caffarelli, drawing out his pocket-book. "For the present," said M'Caskey, carelessly, "a couple of thousand francs will suffice. I have a rather long bill against his Majesty, but it can wait." He pocketed the notes without deigning to look at them, and then, drawing closer to Caffarelli, said, in a whisper, " You '11 have to keep your friend yonder somewhat ' better in hand,' — you will, really. If not, I shall have to shoot him." 19 290 TONY BUTLER. "The Chevalier Maitlaud is your superior officer, sir," said Caffarelli, haughtily. "Take care how you speak of him to any oue, but more especially to me, who am his friend." "I am at his ' friend's' orders, equally," said the Major; "my case contains two pistols." Caffarelli turned away with a shrug of the shoulder, and a look that unmistakably bespoke disgust. "Here goes, then, for the stirrup-cup!" said M'Caskey, filling a large goblet with Burgundy. "To our next meet- ing, gentlemen," and he bowed as he lifted it to his lips. "Won't you drink to my toast?" said he, stopping. Caffarelli filled his glass, and touched it to his lips; but Maitland sat with his gaze bent upon the fire, and never looked up. " Present my homage to the pretty widow when you see her, Maitland, and give her that;" and he flung down a photograph on the table. "It's not a good one, but it will serve to remind her of me." Maitland seized the card and pitched it into the fire, pressing down the embers with his boot. Caffarelli sprang forward, and laid his hands on M'Cas- key's shoulders. "When and where?" said the Major, calmly. "Now — here — if you like," said Maitland, as calmh\ "At last," said a deep voice; and a brigadier of the gen- darmerie entered, followed by two of his men. "M. le Comte," said he, addressing the Major, "I have been in search of you since eleven o'clock. There 's a spe- \ cial train waiting to convey you to Macon; pray don't I lose any more time." "I shall be at Naples within a fortnight," whispered Maitland. "All right," replied M'Caskey. "M, le Brigadier, a ros orclres. Good-bye, Count. By the way, I was forgetting my cheroots, which are really excellent ; " and so saying, he carefully placed them in his cigar-case; and then, giving his great-coat to one of the gendarmes to assist him while he drew it on, he waved a little familiar adieu with his hand and departed. CONSPIRATORS. 291 "My dear Maitland, bow could you so far forget yourself, and with such a man?" said Caffarelli, laying his hands on his shoulder. "With any other man I could not have forgotten myself," said he, sternly. "Let us think no more of him." CHAPTER XXXI. TWO FRIENDS. It was like a return to his former self — to his gay, happy, careless nature — for Tony Butler to find himself with his friend Skeffy. As painters lay layers of the same color on, one over the other, to deepen the effect, so does youth double itself by companionship. As for Skeffy, never did a schoolboy exult more in a holiday; and, like a schoolboy, his spirits boiled over in all manner of small excesses, practical jokes on his fellow-passengers, and all those glorious tomfooleries, to be able to do which with zest is worth all the enjoyment that ever cynicism yielded twice told. "I was afraid you would n't come. I did n't see you when the coach drove into the inn-yard; and I was so disap- pointed," said Tony, as he surveyed the mass of luggage which the guard seemed never to finish depositing before his friend. "Two portmanteaus, sir," said the guard, "three carpet- bags, a dressing-case, a hat-box, a gun-case, bundle of sticks and umbrellas, and I think this parrot and cage are yours." "A parrot, Skeffy!" "For Mrs. Maxwell, you dog; she loves parrots, and I gave ten guineas for that beggar, because they assured me he could positively keep up a conversation; and the only thing he can say is, ' Don't you wish you may get it? ' " No sooner had the bird heard the words than he screamed them out with a wild and scornful cry that made them sound like a bitter mockery. " There, — that 's at m^," whispered Skeffy, — "at me and my chance of Tilney. I 'm half inclined to wring his neck when I hear it." TWO FRIENDS. 293 "Are you looking for any one, Harris? " asked Tony of a servant in livery who had just ridden into the yard. "Yes, sir; I have a letter from my mistress for a gentle- man that was to have come by the mail." "Here he is," said Tony, as he glanced at the address. "This is Mr. Skellhigton Darner." While Skeffy broke the seal, Tony muttered in his ear, "Mind, old fellow, you are to come to us before you go to Tilney, no matter how pressing she may be." "Here's a business," said Skeffy; "as well as I can make out her old pothooks, it is that she can't receive me. 'My dear,' — she first wrote 'Nephew,' but it's smudged out, — ' My dear Cousin Damer, I am much distressed to tell you that you must not come here. It is the scarlatina, which the doctors all think highly infectious, though we burn cinnamon and that other thing through all the rooms. My advice would be to go to Harrogate, or some nice place, to amuse yourself, and I enclose this piece of thin paper.' Where is it, though?" said he, opening the letter and shaking it. "Just think of the old woman forgetting to put up the enclosure ! " " Try the envelope ! " cried Tony, eagerly ; but, no, the envelope was also empty, and it was plain enough she had omitted it. Skeffy read on: "'I had a very pretty pony for you here ; and I remember Lydia Damer told me how nice you looked riding, with the long curls down your back.' Why, that was five-and-twenty years ago!" cried he, with a scream of laughter, — "just fancy, Tony! " and he ran his fingers through his hair. "How am I ever to keep up the illusion with this crop I ' But,' " — he went on to read, — " ' but T suppose I shall not see that now. I shall be eighty-one next November. Mind that you drink my health on the 22nd, if I be alive. I could send you the pony if you thought it would not be too expensive to keep him in London. Tilney is looking beautiful, and the trees are budding as if it were spring. Drop me a line before you leave the neighborhood; and believe me, your affectionate godmother, *' 'Dinah Maxwell.' 294 TONY BUTLER. "I think I had better say I'll send an answer," said Skeffy, as he crumpled up the letter; "and as to the enclosure — " A wild scream and some unintelligible utterance broke from the parrot at this instant. "Yes, you beggar, ' you wish I may get it.' By the way, the servant can take that fellow back with him; I am right glad to be rid of him." "It 's the old adage of the ill wind," said Tony, laughing. " How so ? What do you mean ? " "I mean that your ill-luck is our good fortune; for as you can't go to Tilney, you '11 have to stay the longer with us.^ Skeffy seized his hand and gave it a cordial shake, and the two young fellows looked fully and frankly at each other, as men do look before the game of life has caught too strong a hold upon their hearts, and taught them over- anxiety to rise winners from it. "Now, then, for your chateau," said Skeffy, as he leaped up on the car, already half hidden beneath his luggage. "Our chateau is a thatched cabin," said Tony, blushing in spite of all his attempts to seem at ease. "It is only a friend would have heart to face its humble fare." Not heeding, if he even heard the remark, Skeffy rattled on about everything, — past, present, and future ; talked of their jolly dinner at Richmond, and of each of their com- panions on that gay day ; asked the names of the various places they passed on the road, what were the usual for- tunes of the proprietors, how they spent them; and, seldom waiting for the answer, started some new query, to be for- gotten in its turn. "It is a finer country to ride over," said Tony, anxious to say something favorable for his locality, "than to look at. It is not pretty, perhaps, but there 's plenty of grass, and no end of stone walls to jump, and in the season there 's some capital trout-fishing too." "Don't care a copper for either. I'd rather see a new pantomime than the best stag-hunt in Europe. I 'd rather see Tom Salter do the double spring backwards than I 'd see them take a whale." TWO FRIENDS. 295 "I 'm not of your mind, then," said Tony. "I 'd rather be out on the hillside of a dull, good-scenting day, — well mounted, of course, — and hear the dogs as they rushed yelping through the cover." "Yoics, yoics, yoics! I saw it all at Astley's, and they took a gate in rare style. But, I say, what is that tower yonder, topping the trees?" "That is Lyle Abbey, — Sir Arthur Lyle's place." "Lyle, — Lyle. There was such a picture in the Exhibi- tion last year of two sisters, Maud, or Alice, or Bella Lyle, and another, by Watts. I used to go every morning, before I went down to the office, to have a look at them, and I never was quite certain which I was in love with." "They are here I they are Sir Arthur's daughters." "You don't say so! And do you know them, Tony?" "As well as if they were my sisters." "Ain't I in luck!" cried Skeffy, in exultation. "I'd have gone to Tarnoff, — that 's the place Holmes was named consul at, — and wrote back word that it did n't exist, and that the geography fellows were only hoaxing the office! just fancy, hoaxing the office ! HuUoa ! — what have we here ? A four-horse team, by all that's stunning." "Mrs. Trafford's. Draw up at the side of the road till they pass, Peter," said Ton}^, hurriedly. The servant on the box of the carriage had, however, apparently announced Tony Butler's presence, for the postilions slackened their pace, and came to a dead halt a few paces in front of the car. " My mistress, sir, would be glad to speak to you," said the servant, approaching Tony. "Is she alone, Coles?" asked he, as he descended from the car. "Yes, sir." Somewhat reassured by this, but at the same time not a little agitated, Tony drew nigh the carriage. Mrs. Trafford was wrapped up in a large fur mantle, — the day was a cold one, — and lay back without making any movement to salute, except a slight bend of the head as he approached. " I have to apologize for stopping you," said she, coldly; " but I had a message to give you from Mr. Maitland, who left this a couple of days ago." 296 TONY BUTLER. *'Is he gone, — gone for good?" asked Tony, not really knowing what he said. "1 don't exactly know what 'for good' means," said she, smiling faintly; " but I believe he has not any inten- tion to return here. His message was to say that, being much pressed for time, he had not an opportunity to reply to your note." "I don't think it required an answer," broke in Tony, sternly. "Perhaps not as regarded you, but possiblj' it did as respected himself." " I don't understand you." *' What 1 mean is, that, as you had declined his offer, you might possibly, from inadvertence or any other cause, allude to it ; whereas he expressly wished that the subject sbould never be mentioned." "You were apparently very much in his confidence?" said Tony, fixing his eyes steadily on her. " When I learn by what right you ask me that question, I '11 answer it," said she, just as defiantly. Tony's face became crimson, and he could not utter a word. At last he stammered out, " I have a friend here, — Mr. Damer : he is just come over to pay a visit at Tilney, and ^Irs. Maxwell sends him a note to say that they are all ill there." " Only Bella, and she is better." " And was Bella ill? " asked Tony, eagerly. " Yes, since Tuesday or Wednesday, and even up to Fri- day, very ill. There was a time this could scarcely have happened without your coming to ask after her." "Is it my fault, Alice? First of all, I never knew it. You know well I go nowhere. I do not mix with those who frequent grand houses. But tell me of Bella." "She was never alarmingly ill; but the doctor called it scarlatina, and frightened every one away ; and poor ]Mrs. Maxwell has not yet recovered the shock of seeing her guests depart and her house deserted, for Bella and mj^self are all that remain." " May I present my friend to you? — he would take it as such a favor," asked Tony, timidly. TWO FRIENDS. 297 *' I think not," said she, with an air of indolence. *' Do let me; he saw your picture — that picture of you and Bella at the Exhibition — and he is wild to see yourself. Don't refuse me, Alice." "If you think this a favor, I wonder you have courage to ask it. Come, you need not look cross. Master Tony, par- ticularly as all the fault is on your own side. Come over to Tiluey the day after to-morrow with your friend." *' But I don't know Mrs. Maxwell." *' That does not signify in the least; do what I bid you. I am as much mistress there as she is while I stay. Come early. I shall be quite alone, for Mark goes to-morrow to town, and Bella will scarcely be well enough to see you." "And you'll not let me introduce him now?" " No ; I shall look more like my picture in a house dress ; and perhaps — though I '11 not promise — be in a better temper too. Good-bye." "Won't you shake hands with me, Alice?" " No ; it 's too cold to take my hand out of my muff. Re- member, now, Saturday morning, without fail." "Alice!" said he, with a look at once devoted and reproachful. "Tony! " said she, imitating his tone of voice to perfec- tion, " there's your friend getting impatient. Good-bye." As the spanking team whirled past, Skeffy had but a second or two to catch a glance at the veiled and muffied figure that reclined so voluptuously in the corner of the carriage ; but he was ready to declare that she had the most beautiful eyes in the world, and " knew what to do with them besides." "You 're in love with her, Tony," cried he, fixing a steadfast stare on the pale and agitated features at his side. " I see it, old fellow ! I know every shade and tint of that blessed thing they miscall the tender passion. ^lake me no confessions; I don't want them. Your heart is at her feet, and she treats it like a football." Tony's cheeks grew purple. "There 's no shame in that, my boy. Women do that with better men than either of us; ay, and will continue to do it centuries after you and T shall be canonized as saints. It's that same contempt of us that makes them worth the 298 TONY BUTLER. winning; but, I say, why is the fellow drawing up here? — Is he going to bait his beast? " ''Xo," muttered Ton}-, with a certain confusion; "but we must get down and walk here. Our road lies by that path yonder: there 's no carriage-way up to our ' chateau; ' " and he gave a peculiar accent to the last word. "All right," said Skeffy, gayly. "I'm good for ten miles of a walk." "I '11 not test your powers so far; less than a quarter of an hour will bring us home. Take down the luggage, and I'll send up for it," said he to the driver. "What honest poor devils you must be down here! " said Skeffy, as he saw the carman deposit the trunks on the road and drive off. "I 'd not like to try this experiment in Char- ing Cross." "You see there is some good in poverty, after all," said Tony, laughing. "Egad, I've tried it for some years without discovering it," said Skeffy, gravely. "That," continued he, after a brief pause, "it should make men careless, thoughtless, reckless if you like, I can conceive; but why it should make them honest, is clean bej'ond me. What an appetite this sharp air is giving me. Master Tony! I'll astonish that sirloin or that saddle of yours, whichever it be." "More likely neither, Skeffy. You 're lucky if it be a rasher and eggs." "Oh, that it may be," cried the other, "and draught beer! Have you got draught beer? " "I don't think we have any other. There 's our crib, — that little cabin under the rocks yonder." "How pretty it is, — the snuggest spot I ever saw! " "Y^ou're a good fellow to say so," cried Tony; and his eyes swam in tears as he turned away. What a change has come over Tony Butler within the last twenty-four hours! All his fears and terrors as to what Skeffy would think of their humble cottage and simple mode of life have given way, and there he goes about from place to place, showing to his friend how comfortable everj^thing is, and how snug. "There are grander dining-rooms, no TWO FRIENDS. 299 doubt, but did you ever see a warmer or a ' cosier ' ? And as to the drawing-room, — match the view from the window in all Europe ; between that great bluff of Fairhead and the huge precipice yonder of the Causeway there is a sweep of coast unrivalled anywhere. Those great rocks are the Skerries ; and there, where you see that one stone-pine tree, — there, under that cliff, is the cove where I keep my boat; not much of a boat," added he, in a weaker voice, "because I used always to have the cutter, — Sir Arthur's yacht. Round that point there is such a spot to bathe in; twenty feet water at the very edge, and a white gravel bottom, with- out a weed. Passing up that little pathway, you gain the ledge yonder; and there — do you mark the two stones, like gate-piers? — there you enter Sir Arthur Lyle's demesne. You can't see the shrubberies, for the ground dips, and the trees will only grow in the valleys here! " And there was a despondent tenderness in the last words that seemed to say, "If it were not for that, this would be paradise! " Nor was it mere politeness, and the spirit of good breed- ing, that made Skeffy a genial listener to these praises. What between the sense of a holiday, the delight of what cockneys call an "outing," the fine fresh breezy air of the place, the breadth and space, — great elements of expan- siveness, — Skeffy felt a degree of enjo^^ment that amounted to ecstasy. "I don't wonder that you like it all, Tony," said he. "You '11 never, in all your wanderings, see anything finer." "I often say as much to myself," replied Tony. "As I sit here of an evening, with my cigar, I often say, ' Why should I go over the world in search of fortune, when I have all that one wants here, — here at my very hand ? ' Don't you think a fellow might be content with it?" "Content! I could be as happy as a king here! " and for a moment or two Skeffy really revelled in delighted thoughts of a region where the tinkle of a minister's hand-bell had never been heard, where no "service messengers " ever came, where no dunning tailors invaded ; a paradise that knew not the post nor dreamed of the telegraph. "And as to money," continued Tony, "one does not want to be rich in such a place. I 'm as well off here with, we '11 300 TONY BUTLER. say, two hundred a year — we haven't got so much, but I 'II say that — as I should be in London with a thousand.'* "Better! decidedly better! " said Skeffy, puffing his cigar, and thinking over that snowstorm of Christmas bills which awaited him on his return. "If it were not for one thing, Skeffy, I 'd never leave it," said he, with a deep sigh, and a look that said as plainly as ever words spoke, "Let me open my heart to you." "I know it all, old fellow, just as if you had confessed it to me. I know the whole stor}'." "What do you know, or what do you suspect you know? " said Tony, growing red. "I say," said Skeffy, with that tone of superiority that he liked to assume, — "I say that I read you like a book." "Read aloud, then, and I '11 say if you 're right." "It's wrong with you here, Butler," said Skeffy, laying his hand on the other's heart; and a deep sigh was all the answer. "Give me another weed," said Skeffy, and for some seconds he employed himself in lighting it. "There 's not a man in England," said he, slowly, and with the delib- erateness of a judge in giving sentence, — "not a man in England knows more of these sort of things than I do. You, I 'm certain, take me for a man of pleasure and the world, — a gay, butterfl}' sort of creature, flitting at will from flower to flower; or j^ou believe me — and in that with more reason — a fellow full of ambition, and determined to play a hi^-h stake in life; but 3'et, Tony Butler, within all these there is another nature, like the holy of holies in the sanctuary. Ay, my dear friend, there is the — what the poet calls the ' crimson heart within the rose.' Isn't that it?" "I don't know," said Tony, bluntly. And now Skeffy smoked on for some minutes without a word. At length he said, in a solemn tone, "It has not been for nothing, Butler, that I acquired the gift I speak of. If I see into the hearts of men like you, I have paid the price of it." "I'm not so certain that you can do it," said Tony, half doubting his friend's skill, and half eager to provoke an exercise of it. TWO FRIENDS. 801 "I '11 show whether I can or not. Of course, if you like to disclaim or deny — " "I '11 disclaim nothing that I know to be true." "And I am to speak freely? " **As freely as you are able." "Here it is, then, in five words: You are in love, Tony, — in love with that beautiful widow." Tony held his head down between his hands, and was silent. "You feel that the case is hopeless, — that is to say, that you know, besides being of rank and wealth, she is one to make a great match, and that her family would never con- sent to hear of your pretensions ; and yet all this while you have a sort of lurking suspicion that she cares for you? " "No, no!" muttered Tony, between his hands. "Well, that she did once, and that not very long ago." "Not even that," said Tony, drearily. "I know better, — you do think so. And I'll tell you more; what makes you so keenly alive to her change — per- fidy, you would like to call it — is this, that you have gone through that state of the disease yourself." "I don't understand you." "Well, you shall. The lovely Alice — isn't that the name?" Tony nodded. "The lovely Alice got your own heart only- at second hand. You used to be in love with the little girl that was governess at Richmond." "Not a word of it true, — nothing of the kind," broke out Tony, fiercely. "Dolly and I were brother and sister, — we always said we were." "What does that signify? I tried the brother-and-sister dodge, and I know what it cost me when she married Mac- cleston;" and Skeffy here threw his cigar into the sea, as though an emblem of his shipwrecked destiny. "Mind me well, Butler," said he, at last; "I did not say that you ever told your heart you loved her; but she knew it, take my word for it. She knew, and in the knowing it was the attraction that drew you on." "But I was not drawn on." 302 TONY BUTLER. "Don't tell me, sir. Answer me just this: Did any man ever know the hour, or even the day, that he caught a fever? Could he go back in memory, and say, it was on Tuesday last, at a quarter to three, that my pulse rose, my respiration grew shorter, and my temples began to throb? So it is with love, the most malignant of all fevers. All this time that you and What's-her-name were playing brother and sister so innocently, your hearts were learning to feel in unison, — just as two pendulums in the same room acquire the same beat and swing together. You 've heard that ? " "I may; but you are all wrong about Dolly." "What would she say to it? " "Just what I do." "Well, we cannot ask her, for she 's not here." "She is here, — not two miles from where we are stand- ing; not that it signifies much, for, of course, neither of us would do that.'' "Not plump out, certainly, in so many words." "Not in any way, Skeffy. It is because I look upon Dolly as my own dear sister, I would not suffer a word to be said that could offend her." "Offend her! -Oh dear, how young you are in these things ! " "What is it, Jenny?" cried Tony to the servant-girl, who was shouting not very intelligibly, from a little knoll at a distance. "Oh, she's saying that supper is ready, and the kippered salmon getting cold, as if any one cared! " ''Don't they care!" cried Skeffy. "Well, then, they haven't been inhaling this sea-breeze for an hour, as I have. Heaven grant that love has carried off your appetite, Tony, for I feel as if I coi*ld eat for six." CHAPTER XXXII. ON THE ROCKS. It was a rare thing for Tony Butler to lie awake at night, and yet he did so for full an hour or more after that conver- sation with Skeffy. It was such a strange blunder for one of Skeffy's shrewdness to have made, — so inexplicable. To imagine that he, Tony, had ever been in love with Dolly! Dolly, his playfellow since the time when the "twa had paidled i' the burn;" Dolly, to whom he went with every little care that crossed him, never shrinking for an instant from those avowals of doubt or difficulty that no one makes to his sweetheart. So, at least, thought Tony. Atid the same Dolly to whom he had revealed once, in deepest secrecy, that he was in love with Alice ! To be sure, it was a boyish confession, made years ago; and since that Alice had grown up to be a woman, and was married, so that the story of the love was like a fairy tale. "In love with Dolly! " muttered he. "If he had but ever seen us together, he would have known that could not be." Poor Tony! he knew of love in its moods of worship and devotion, and in its aspect of a life-giving impulse, — a soul-filling, engrossing sentiment, — inspiring timidity when near, and the desire for boldness when away. With such alternating influence Dolly had never racked his heart. He sought her with a quiet conscience, untroubled by a fear. "How could Skeffy make such a mistake! That it is a mistake, who would recognize more quickly than Dolly her- self; and with what humorous drollery — a drollery all her own — would she not treat it! A rare punishment for your blunder. Master Skeffy, would it be to tell Dolly of it all in your presence ; " and at last, wearied out with thinking, he fell asleep. 304 TONY BUTLER. The day broke with one of those bright breezy mornings which, though "trying" to the nerves of the weak and delicate, are glorious stimulants to the strong. The sea plashed merrily over the rocks, and the white streaky clouds flew over the land with a speed that said it blew hard at sea. "Glorious day for a sail, Skeffy; we can beat out, and come back with a stern- wind whenever we like." "I'll anticipate the wish by staying on shore, Tony." "I can't offer you a mount, Skeffy, for I am not the owner of even a donkey.'* "Who wants one? Who wants anything better than to go down where we were yesterday evening, under that big black rock, with the sea before us, and the whole wide world behind us, and talk? When a fellow lives as I do, cooped up within four walls, the range of his view some tiers of pigeon-holes, mere freedom and a sea-breeze are the grand- est luxuries in creation;" and off they set, armed with an ample supply of tobacco, the life-buoy of those strugglers in the sea of thought who only ask to float, but not to reach the shore. How delightfully did the hours pass over! At least, so Tony felt, for what a wonderful fellow was Skeffy I What had he not seen or heard or read? AVhat theme was new, what subject unknown to him? But, above all, what a mar- vellous insight had he into the world, — the actual world of men and women! Great people were not to Jiis eyes mighty gods and goddesses, seated loftily on a West-End Olympus, but fallible mortals, with chagrins about the court and griev- ances about invitations to Windsor. Ministers, too, whose nods shook empires, were humanities, very irritable under the gout, and much given to colchicum. Skeffy "knew the whole thing," — he was not one of the mere audience. He lived in the green-room or in the "flats." He knew all the secrets of state, from the splendid armaments that existed on paper, to the mock thunders that were manufactured and patented by F. O. These things Skeffy told like confidences, — secrets he would not have breathed to any one he held less near his heart than Tony. But somehow commonplaces told by the lips of authority will assume an immense authority, and ON THE ROCKS. 305 carry with them a stupendous weight; and Tony listened to the precious words of wisdom as he might have listened to the voice of Solomon. But even more interesting still did he become as he sketched forth, very vaguely indeed, — a sort of Turner in his later style of cloud and vapor, — his own great future. Not very clear and distinct the steps by which he was fated to rise, but palpable enough the great elevation he was ultimately to occupy. *' Don't imagine, old fellow," said he, laying his hand on Tony's shoulders, ''that I am going to forget you when that time comes. I 'm not going to leave you a Queen's messenger." '• What could you make of me? " said Tony, despondently. "Fifty things," said the other, with a confidence that seemed to say, ''I, Skeffy, am equal to more than this;" "fifty things. You, of course, cannot be expected to know it, but I can tell you, it 's far harder to get a small place than a big one, — harder to be a corporal than a lieutenant-general." "How do you explain that?" asked Tony, with an eager curiosity. "You can't understand it without knowing life. I cannot convey to j^ou how to win a trick where 3'ou don't know the game." And Skeffy showed, by the impatient way he tried to light a fresh cigar, that he was not fully satisfied with the force or clearness of his own explanation; and he went on: "You see, old fellow, when you have climbed up some rungs of the ladder with a certain amount of assurance, many will think you are determined to get to the top." "Well, but if a man's ladder has only one rung, as I imagine is the case with mine! " broke in Ton3\ Skeffy looked at his companion for a moment, half sur- prised that he should have carried out the figure, and then laughed heartily, as he said, ' Splice it to mine, my boy; it will bear us both." It was no use that Tony shook his head and looked despondingly; there was a hopeful warmth about Skeffy not to be extinguished by any discouragement. In fact, if a shade of dissatisfaction seemed ever to cloud the brightness of his visions, it was the fear lest, even in his success, 20 306 TONY BUTLER. some other career might be neglected wherein the rewards were greater and the prizes more splendid. He knew, and he did not scruple to declare that he knew, if he had been a soldier he 'd have risen to the highest command. If he 'd have gone to the bar, he 'd have ended on the woolsack. Had he "taken that Indian appointment," he 'd have been high up by this time on the Council, with his eye on Govern- ment House for a finish. "That 's what depresses me about diplomacy, Tony. The higher you go, the less sure you are. They — I mean your own party — give you Paris or St. Petersburg, we '11 say; and if they go out, so must you." "Why must 3^ou?" asked Tony. "For the reason that the well-bred dog went downstairs when he saw certain preparations that betokened kicking him down. "After all, I think a new colony and the gold-fields the real thing, — the glorious independence of it; you live how you like, and with whom you like. No Mrs. Grundy to say, ' Do you know who dined with Skeffington Darner yester- day? ' ' Did 3'ou remark the young woman who sat beside him in his carriage?' and such-like." "But you cannot be always sure of your nuggets," mut- tered Tony. "I 've seen fellows come back poorer than they went." "Of course you have; it 's not every horse wins the Derby, old boy. And I'll tell you another thing, too; the feeling, the instinct, the inner consciousness that you carry success in your nature, is a rarer and a higher gift than the very power to succeed. You meet with clever fellows every day in the week who have no gauge of their own cleverness. To give an illustration; you write a book, we '11 say." "No, I don't," blurted out Tony. "Well, but you might; it is at least possible." "It is not." "Well, let us take something else. You are about to try something that has a great reward attached to it, if success- ful ; you want, we '11 suppose, to marry a woman of high rank and large fortune, very beautiful, — in fact, one to whom, according to every-day notions, you have not the slightest pretensions. Is n't that a strong case, eh?'* ON THE ROCKS. 307 "Worse than the book. Perhaps I 'd better try author- ship," said Tony, growing very red; "but make the case your own, and I '11 listen just as attentively." "Well, here goes; I have only to draw on memory," said he, with a sigh; "I suppose you don't remember seeing in the papers, about a year and a half ago, that the Prince of Cobourg Cohari — not one of our Cobourgs, but an Austrian branch — came over to visit the Queen. He brought his daughter Olga with him; she was called Olga after the Empress of Russia's sister. And such a girl! She was nearly as tall as you, Tony, — I '11 swear she was, — with enor- mous blue eyes, and masses of fair hair that she wore in some Russian fashion that seemed as if it had fallen loose over her neck and shoulders. And were n't they shoulders! I do like a large woman ! a regular Cleopatra, — indolent, voluptuous, dreamy. I like the majestic languor of their walk; and there is a massive grandeur in their slightest gesture that is very imposing." "Go on," muttered Tony, as the other seemed to pause for a sentiment of concurrence. "I was in the Household in those days, and I was sent down with old DoUington to Dover to meet them; but some- how they arrived before we got down, and were comfortably installed at the ' Lord Warden ' when we arrived. It did not matter much ; for old Cohari was seized with an attack of gout, and could not stir; and there I was, running back and forward to the telegraph office all da}^ reporting how he was, and whether he would or would not have Sir James This or Sir John That dow^n to see him! DoUington and he were old friends, fortunately, and had a deal to say to each other, so that I was constantly with Olga. At first she was supremely haughty and distant, as j^ou may imagine; a regu- lar Austrian Serene Highness grafted on a beauty, — fancy that! but it never deterred me ; and I contrived that she should see mine was the homage of a heart she had capti- vated, not of a courtier that was bound to obey her. She saw it, sir, — saw it at once ; saw it with that instinct that whispers to the female heart, ' He loves me,' ere the man has ever said it to himself. She not only saw, but she did not discourage, my passion. Twenty little incidents of our daily 308 TONY BUTLER. life showed this, as we rambled across the downs together, or strolled along the shore to watch the setting sun and the arrival of the mail-boat from Calais. "At last the Prince recovered sufficiently to continue his journey, and I went down to order a special train to take us up to town the following morning. By some stupid arrangement, however, of the directors, an earlier announce- ment should have been given, and all they could do was to let us have one of the royal carriages attached to the express. I was vexed at this, and so was Dolliugton, but the Prince did not care, in the least; and when I went to speak of it to Olga, she hung down her head for an instant, and then, in a voice and with an accent I shall never forget, she said, ' Ah, Monsieur Damer, it would appear to be your destiny to be always too late ! ' She left me as she spoke, and we never met after ; for on that same evening I learned from Dolliug- ton she was betrothed to the Duke Max of Hohenhammels- braten, and to be married in a month. That was the mean- ing of her emotion, — that was the source of a sorrow that all but overcame her ; for she loved me, Tony, — she loved me! not with that headlong devotion that belongs to the warmer races, but with a Teutonic love ; and when she said, 'I was too late,' it was the declaration of a heart whose valves worked under a moderate pressure, and never risked an explosion." ''But how do you know that she was not alluding to the train, and to your being late to receive them on the land- ing ? " asked Tony. "Ain't you prosaic, Tony, — ain't you six-and-eight- pence! with your dull and commonplace interpretation! I tell you, sir, that she meant, ' 1 love you, but it is in vain, — I love you, but another is before you, — I love you, but you come too late! ' " "And what did you do?" asked Tony, anxious to relieve himself from a position of some awkwardness. "1 acted with dignity, sir. I resigned in the Household, and got appointed to the Colonial." "And what does it all prove, except it be something against your own theory, that a man should think there is nothing too high for his reach?" ON THE ROCKS. 809 "Verily, Tony, I have much to teach you," said Skeffy, gravely, but good-naturedly. "This little incident shows by what slight casualties our fortunes are swa^^ed: had it not been for Max of Hammelsbraten, where might not I have been to-da}^? It is by the flaw in the metal the strength of the gun is measured, — so it is by a man's failures in life you can estimate his value. Anotlier would not have dared to raise his eyes so high ! " "That I can well believe," said Tony, dryly. "You, for instance, would no more have permitted your- self to fall in love with her, than you 'd have thought of tossing for half-crowns with the Prince her father." "Pretty much the same," muttered Tony. "That 's it, — that is exactly what establishes the differ- ence between men in life. It is by the elevation given to the cannon that the ball is thrown so far. It is b}' the high purpose of a man that you measure his genius." "All the genius in the world won't make you able to take a horse over seven feet of a stone wall," said Tony; "and whatever is impossible has no interest for me." "You never can say what is impossible," broke in Skeffy. "I '11 tell you experiences of mine, and you '11 exclaim at every step, ' How could that be ? ' " Skeffy had now thor- oughly warmed to his theme. — the theme he loved best in the world, — himself; for he was one of those who "take out " all their egotism in talk. Let him only speak of him- self, and he was ready to act heartily and energetically in the cause of his friends. All that he possessed was at their service, — his time, his talents, his ingenuity, his influence, and his purse. He could give them everything but one; he could not make them heroes in his stories. No, his romance was his own realm, and he could share it with none. Listen to him, and there never was a man so traded on, — so robbed and pilfered from. A Chancellor of the Ex- chequer had caught up that notion of his about the tax on domestic cats. It was on the railroad he had dropped that hint about a supply of cordials in all fire-escapes. That clever suggestion of a web livery that would fit footmen of all sizes was his ; he remembered the day he made it, and 310 TONY BUTLER. the fellow that stole it, too, on the chain-pier at Brighton. What leaders in the "Times," what smart things in the '"Saturday," what sketches in "Punch" were constructed out of liis dinner-talk! Poor Tony listened to all these with astonishment, and even confusion, for one-half, at least, of the topics were totally strange and new to him. *'Tell me," said he at last, with a bold effort to come back to a land of solid reality, "what of that poor fellow whose bundle 1 carried away witli me? Your letter said sometliing mysterious about him, which I could make nothing of." "Ah, yes, — a dangerous dog, — a friend of Mazzini's, and a member of I can't say how many secret societies. The Inspector, hearing that I had asked after him at the hotel, came up to F. O. t' otlier morning to learn what I knew of him, and each of us tried for full half an hour to puni}) the other." "I '11 not believe one word against him," said Tony, stur- dily; "an honester, franker face I never looked at." "No doubt! Who would wish to see a better-looking fellow than Orsini?" "And what has become of him, — of Quin, T mean? " "Got away, clean away, and no one knows how or where. I'll tell you., Tony," said he, "what I would not tell another, — that they stole that idea of the explosive bombs from me." "You don't mean to say — " "Of course not, old fellow. I 'm not a man to counsel assassination; but in the loose way I talk, throwing out notions for tliis and hints for that, they caught up this idea just as Blakeney did that phxn of mine for rifling large guns." Tony fixed his eyes on him for a moment or two in silence, and then said gravely, "I think it must be near dinner- time; let us saunter towards home." CHAPTER XXXIII. A MORNING CALL AT TILNEY. On the morning after this conversation, the two friends set out for Tiluey ; Sketify, as usual, full of himself, and con- sequently in high spirits, — happy in the present, and con- fident for the future. Tony, indeed, was delighted with his companion, and thoroughly enjoyed the volatile gayety of one who seemed to derive pleasure from everything. With all a school-boy's zest for a holiday, Skeffy would be for- ever at something. Now he would take the driver's seat on the car and play coachman till, with one wheel in the ditch and the conveyance nearly over, he was summarily deposed by Tony, and stoutly rated for his awkwardness. Then it was his pleasure to "chaff" the people on the road, — a population the least susceptible of drollery in all Europe ! — a grave, saturnine race, who, but for Tony's intervention, would have more than once resented such lib- erties very practically. As they saw the smoke from the chimney of a little cottage under the hill, and heard it was there Dolly Stewart lived, it was all Tony could do to pre- vent Skeffy running down to " have a look at her," just as it required actual force to keep him from jumping off as they passed a village school, where Skeffy wanted to examine a class in the Catechism. Then he would eat and drink everywhere, and, with a mock desire for information, ask the name of every place they passed, and as invaria- bly miscall them, to the no small amusement of the carman, this being about the limit of his appreciation of fun. " What a fidgety beggar yon are ! " said Tony, half angry and half laughing at the incessant caprices of his vivacious companion. "Do yon know it's now going on to eleven o'clock, and we have fourteen miles yet before us?" 312 TONY BUTLER. *'One must eat occasionally, my dear friend. Even in the ' Arabian Niglits ' the heroine takes a slight refection of dates now and then." "But this is our third 'slight refection' this morning, and we shall probably arrive at Tilney for luncheon." " You can bear long fasts, I know. I have often heard of the ' starving Irish ; ' but the Anglo-Saxon stomach re- quires a ' retainer,' to remind it of the great cause to be tried at dinner-time. A mere bite of bread and cheese, and I'm with you." At last the deep woods of Tilney came in sight ; and evidence of a well-cared-for estate — trim cottages on the roadside, and tasteful little gardens — showed that they were approaching the residence of one who was proud of her tenantr}'. "What's the matter with you?" asked Tony, struck by a momentary silence on his companion's part. " I was thinking, Tony," said he, gravely, — "I was just thinking whether I could not summon up a sort of emo- tion at seeing the woods under whose shade my ancestors must have walked for heaven knows what centuries." " Your ancestors ! Why, they never lived here." "Well, if they did n't, they ought. It seems a grand old place, and I ah-eady feel my heart warming to it. By the way, where 's Maitland ? " "Gone; I told you he was off to the Continent. What do you know about this man, — anything?" " Not much. When I was at school, Tony, whenever in our New Testament examination they asked me who it was did this or said that, I always answered John the Baptist, and in eight times out of ten it was a hit ; and so in secular matters, whenever I was puzzled about a fellow's parentage, I in- variably said — and 3'ou '11 find as a rule it is invaluable — he's a son of George IV., or his father was. It accounts for everything, — good looks, plent}^ of cash, air, swagger, mystery. It explains how a fellow knows every one, and is claimed by none." "And is this Maitland's origin?" "I can't tell; perhaps it is. Find me a better, or, as the poet says, ' has accipe mecum.' I say, is that the gate- A MORNING CALL AT TILNEY. 813 lodge? Tony, old fellow, I hope I'll have you spending your Christmas here one of these days, with Skeff Darner your host ! " "More unlikely things have happened!" said Ton}^ quietly. "What a cold northernism is that! "VVhy, man, what so likely — what so highly probable — what, were I a sanguine fellow, would I say so nearly certain? It was through a branch of the Damers — no, of the Nevils, I mean — who in- termarried with us, that the Maxwells got the estate. Paul Nevil was Morton Maxwell's mother — aunt, I should say — " " Or uncle, perhaps," gravely interposed Tony. "Yes, uncle, — you 're right ! but you've muddled my genealogy for all that ! Let us see. Who was Xoel Skef- fington? Noel was a sort of pivot in our family-engine, and everything seemed to depend on him ; and such a re- spect had we for his intentions, that we went on contest- ing the meaning of his last will till we found out there was nothing more left to fight for. This Noel was the man that caught King George's horse when he was run away with at the battle of Dettingen ; and the King wanted to make him a baronet, but with tears in his eyes, he asked how he had ever incurred the royal displeasure to be visited with such a mark of disgrace? 'At all events,' said he, ' my innocent child, who is four years old, could never have offended your Majesty. Do not, therefore, involve him in my shame. Commute the sentence to knighthood, and my dishonor will die with me.' " " I never heard of greater insolence," said Tony. "It saved us, though; but for this, I should have been Sir Skeflfington to-day. Is that the house I see yonder?" "That's a wing of it." " ' Home of my fathers, how my bosom throbs ! ' What 's the next line? 'Home of my fathers, through my heart there runs ! ' That 's it, — ' there runs ' — runs. I forget how it goes, but I suppose it must rhyme to ' duns.' " "Now, try and be reasonable for a couple of minutes," said Tony. " I scarcely am known to Mrs. Maxwell at all. I don't mean to stop here ; I intend to go back to-night. What are your movements ? " 314 TONY BUTLER. "Let the Fates decide; that is to say, I'll toss up, — heads, and I am to have the estate, and therefore remain ; tails, — I'm disinherited, and go back with you." " I want you to be serious, Skeffy." "Very kind of you, when I've only got fourteen days' leave, and three of them gone already." " I 'd rather you'd return with me ; but I 'd not like you to risk your future to please me." "Has jealousy no share in this? Be frank and open : ' Crede Damer ' is our proud motto ; and by Jove, if certain tailors and bootmakers did not accept it, it would be an evil day for your humble servant ! " " I don't understand you," said Tony, gravely. " You fear I '11 make love to ' your widow,' Tony. Don't get so red, old fellow, nor look as if you wanted to throw me into the fish-pond." " I had half a mind to do it," muttered Tony, in some- thing between jest and earnest. "I knew it, — I saw it. Y^ou looked what the Y^ankees call mean-ugly ; and positively I was afraid of you. But just reflect on the indelible disgrace it would be to you if I was drowned." "You can swim, I suppose?" "Not a stroke ; it 's about the only thing I cannot do." " Wh3% you told me yesterday that you never shoot, you could n't ride, never handled a fishing-rod." "Nor hemmed a pocket-handkerchief," broke in Skeffy. " I own not to have any small accomplishments. What a noble building ! I declare I am attached to it already. No, Tony ; I pledge you ray word of honor, no matter how pressed I may be, I'll not cut down a tree here." " Y'ou may go round to the stable-yard," said Tony to the driver, — " they '11 feed you and your horse here." "Of course they will," cried Skeffy; and then, grasping Tony's two hands, he said, " Y"ou are welcome to Tilney, my dear boy ; I am heartily glad to see you here." Tony turned and pulled the bell ; the deep summons echoed loudly, and a number of small dogs joined in the uproar at the same time. "There's 'the deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near A MORNING CALL AT TILNEY. 315 home,'" said Skeffy, while he threw the end of his cigar away. A servant soon appeared and ushered them into a large low-ceilinged room, with fireplaces of antique fashion, the chimney-pieces of dark oak, surmounted by massive coats of arms glowing in all the colors of heraldry. It was eminently comfortable in all its details of fat low ottomans, deep easy- chairs, and squat cushions ; and although the three windows which lighted it looked out upon a lawn, the view was bounded by a belt of trees, as though to convey that it was a room in which snugness was to be typified, to the exclusion of all that pretended to elegance. A massive and splendidly bound Bible, showing little signs of use, lay on a centre table; a very well-thumbed "Peerage" was beside it. "I say, Tony, this is evidently Aunt Maxwell's own drawing-room. It has all the peculiar grimness of an old lady's sanctum ; and I declare that fat old dog, snoring away on the rug, looks like a relation." While he stooped down to examine the creature more closely, the door opened, and Mrs. Maxwell, dressed in bonnet and shawl, and with a small garden watering-pot in her hand, entered. She only saw Tony ; and, running towards him with her open hand, said, "You naughty boy, didn't I tell you not to come here?" Tony blushed deeply, and blurted something about being told or ordered to come by Mrs. Trafford. "Well, well; it does n't matter now; there's no danger. It's not 'catching,' the doctor says, and she'll be up to- morrow. Dear me ! and who is this ? " The latter ques- tion was addressed to Skeffy, who had just risen from his knees. "Mr. Skeffington Damer, ma'am," said Tony. " And who are you, then? " " Tony Butler : I thought you knew me." " To be sure I do, and delighted to see you too. And this Pickle is Skeff, is he?" " Dear aunt, let me embrace you," cried Skeffy, rushing rapturously into her arms. "Well, I declare!" said the old lady, looking from one to the other ; "I thought, if it was you, Skeff, what a great 316 TONY BUTLER. fine tall man you had grown ; and there you are, the same little creature I saw you last.*' "Little, aunt! what do you mean by little? Standard of the Line ! In France I should be a Grenadier ! " The old lady laughed heartily at the haughty air with which he drew himself up and threw forward his chest as he spoke. " What a nice parrot you have sent me ! but I can't make out what it is he says." " He says, ' Don't you wish you may get it? ' aunt." "Ah! so it is; and he means luncheon, I'm sure, which is just coming on the table. I hope you are both very hungry? " " I ought to be, aunt. It 's a long drive from the Cause- way here. — Hold your tongue, you dog," whispered he to Tony; " say nothing about the three breakfasts on the road, or I shall be disgraced." " And how is your mother, Mr. Tony ? I hope she has good health. Give me your arm to the dining-room ; Pickle will take care of himself. This is a sickly season. The poor dear Commodore fell ill ! and though the weather is so severe, woodcocks very scarce, — there 's a step here, — and all so frightened for fear of the scarlatina that they run away ; and I really wanted you here to introduce you to — who was it? — not Mrs. Craycroft, was it? Tell Mrs. Trafford luncheon is ready. Groves, and say Mr. Butler is here. She does n't know you, Pickle. Maybe you don't like to be called Pickle now?'* " Of course I do, aunt; it reminds me of long ago," said he, with an air of emotion. " By the way, it was George, and not you, I used to call Pickle, — poor George, that went to Bombay." "Ah, yes; he was India Pickle, aunt, and you used to call me Piccalilli ! " " Perhaps I did, but I forget. Here, take the head of the table ; Mr. Tony, sit by me. Oh dear ! what a small party ! This day last week we were twenty-seven ! Oh, he '11 not find Alice, for I left her in my flower-garden ; I '11 go for her myself." " Make yourself at home, Tony," said Skeffy, as soon as A MORNING CALL AT TILNEY. 317 the old lady left the room. " Believe me, it is with do com- mon pleasure that I see you under my roof." *' I was going to play parrot, and say, ' Don't you wish you may?'" muttered Tony, dryly. *' Unbeliever, that will not credit the mutton on his plate, nor the sherry in his glass! Hush! here they are." Alice sailed proudly into the room, gave her hand to Tony with a pretended air of condescension, but a real cordiality, and said, ^' You're a good boy, after all; and Bella sends you all manner of kind forgivenesses." '' My nephew Damer, Alice," said Mrs. Maxwell, never very formal in her presentations of those she regarded as little more than children. *'l suppose he'll not mind being called Pickle before you?" Even Tony — not the shrewdest, certainly, of observers^ was struck by the well-bred ease with which his friend con- ducted himself in a situation of some difficulty, managing at the same time neither to offend the old lady's susceptibilities nor sacrifice the respect he owed himself. In fact, the pres- ence of Alice recalled Skeffy, as if by magic, to every obser- vance of his daily life. She belonged to the world he knew best, — perhaps the only one he knew at all ; and his conver- sation at once became as eas}^ and as natural as though he were once more back in the society of the great city. Mrs. Maxwell, however, would not part with him so easily, and proceeded to put him through a catechism of all their connections — Skeffingtons, Darners, Maxwells, and Nevils — in every variety of combination. As Skeffy avowed after- wards, " The ' Little Go' was nothing to it." With the inten- tion of shocking the old lady, and what he called " sluinting her " off all her inquiries, he reported nothing of the family but disasters and disgraces. The men and women of the house inherited, according to him, little of the proud boast of the Bayards ; no one ever before heard such a cata- logue of rogues, swindlers, defaulters, nor so many narra- tives of separations and divorces. What he meant for a shock turned out a seduction ; and she grew madly eager to hear more, — more even than he was prepared to in- vent. " Ugh ! " said he at last to himself, as he tossed off a glass 318 TONY BUTLER. of sherry, "I'm coming fast to capital offences, and if she presses me more I '11 give her a murder." These family histories, apparently so confidentially im- parted, gave Alice a pretext to take Tony off with her, and show him the gardens. Poor Tony, too, was eager to have an opportunity to speak of his friend to Alice. '' Skeffy was such a good fellow ; so hearty, so generous, so ready to do a kind thing ; and then, such a thorough gentle- man ! If you had but seen him, Alice, in our little cabin, so very different in every way from all he is accustomed to, and saw how delighted he was with everything ; how pleas- antly he fell into all our habits, and how nice his manner to my mother. She reads people pretty quickly ; and I '11 tell you what she said, — ' He has a brave big heart under all his motley.' " " I rather like him already," said Alice, with a faint smile at Tony's eagerness ; " he is going to stop here, is he not? " " I cannot tell. I only know that Mrs. Maxwell wrote to put him off." *' Yes, that she did a couple of days ago; but now that Bella is so much better, — so nearly well, I may say, — I think she means to keep him, and you too, Tony, if you will so far favor us." " I cannot, — it is impossible." "I had hoped, Tony," said she, with a malicious sparkle in her eyes, " that it was only against Lyle Abbey you bore a grudge, and not against every house where I should happen to be a visitor." ''Alice, Alice!" said he, with trembling lips, "surely this is not fair." "If it be true, is the question; and until you have told me why you ceased to come to us, — why 3'ou gave up those who always liked you, — I must, I cannot help believing it to be true." Tony was silent : his heart swelled up as if it would burst his chest; but he struggled manfully, and hid his emotion. "I conclude," said she, sharply, "it was not a mere caprice which made you throw us off. Y^ou had a reason, or something that you fancied was a reason." " It is only fair to suppose so," said he, gravely. £ A MORNING CALL AT TILNEY. 319 " Well, I '11 give you the benefit of that supposition ; and I ask you, as a matter of right, to give me your reason." '' I cannot, Alice, — I cannot," stammered he out, while a deadly paleness spread over his face. "Tony," said she, gravely, " if you were a man of the world like your friend Mr. Damer, for instance, I would probably say that in a matter of this kind you ought to be left to your own judgment ; but you are not. You are a kind-hearted simple-minded boy. Nay, don't blush and look offended ; I never meant to offend you. Don't you know that? " and she held out to him her fair white hand, the taper fingers trembling with a slight emotion. Tony stooped and kissed it with a rapturous devotion. " There, I did not mean that. Master Tony," said she, blushing; "1 never intended your offence was to be condoned ; I only thought of a free pardon." ''Then give it to me, Alice," said he, gulping down his emotion; "for I am going away, and who knows when I shall see you again ? " " Indeed," said she, with a look of agitation ; " have you reconsidered it, then? have you resolved to join Maitland?" " And were you told of this, Alice? " " Yes, Tony : as one who feels a very deep interest in you, I came to hear it; but, indeed, partly by an accident." "Will you tell me what it was you heard?" said he, gravely; "for I am curious to hear whether you know more than myself." "You were to go abroad with Maitland, — you were to travel on the Continent together." "And I was to be his secretary, eh?" broke in Tony, with a bitter laugh ; ' ' was n't that the notable project ? " " You know well, Tony, it was to be only in name." "Of course I do; my incapacity would insure that much." " I must say, Tony," said she, reproachfully, " that so far as I know of Mr. Maitland's intentions towards you, they were both kind and generous. In all that he said to me, there was the delicacy of a gentleman towards a gentleman." " He told you, however, that I had refused his offer? " " Yes; he said it with much regret, and 1 asked his leave 320 TONY BUTLER. to employ any influence I might possess over you to make you retract the refusal, — at least to think again over his offer." *' And of course he refused you nothing? " said Tony, with a sneering smile. " Pardon me, — he did not grant my request." "Then I think better of him than I did before." " I suspect, Tony, that, once you understood each other, you are men to be friends." '^ You mean by that to flatter me, Alice, — and of course it is great flattery ; but whether it is that I am too conscious of my own inferiority, or that I have, as 1 feel I have, such a hearty hatred of your accomplished friend, I would detest the tie that should bind me to him. Is he coming back here ? " *'I do not know." " Y"ou do not know!" said he, slowly, as he fixed his eyes on her. "Take care, sir, take care; you never trod on more dan- gerous ground than when you forgot what was due to me. I told you r did not know ; it was not necessary I should repeat it." " There was a time when 3'ou rebuked my bad breeding less painfully, Alice,'' said he, in deep sorrow; " but these are days not to come back again. I do not know if it is not misery to remember them." "John Anthony Butler, Esq.," cried a loud voice, and Skeffy sprang over a box-hedge almost as tall as himself, flourishing a great sealed packet in his hand. " A despatch on Her Majest^^'s service just sent on here ! " cried he ; "and now remember, Tony, if it's Viceroy you're named, I insist on being Ciiief Sec. ; if you go to India as Governor- General, I claim Bombay or Madras. "\Yliat stuff is the fellow made of? Did you ever see such a stolid indifference? He doesn't want to know what the Fates have decreed him." " I don't care one farthing," said Ton\% dogged h^ "Here goes, then, to see," cried Skeffy, tearing open the packet and reading: " ' Downing Street, Friday, oth. — ]Mr. Butler will report himself for service as F. O. Messenger on A MORNING CALL AT TILXEY. 321 Tuesday morning, 9th. By order of the Under-Secretary of State.' " "There's a way to issue a service summons. It was Graves wrote that, I 'd swear. All he ought to have said was, ' Butler for service, F. O., to report immediately.* " "I suppose the form is no great matter," said Mrs. Traf- ford, whose eyes now turned with an anxious interest towards Tony. '' The form is everything, I assure you. The Chief Sec= retary is a regular Tartar about style. One of our fellows, who lias an impediment in his speech, once wrote, ' I had had,' in a despatch, and my Lord noted it with, ' It is in- excusable that he should stutter in writing.' " " I must be there on Wednesday, is it? " asked Tony. *' Tuesday — Tuesday, and in good time too. But ain't you lucky, you dog ! The}' 're so hard pressed for messen- gers, they 've got no time to examine you. You are to enter official life ^ja?' la petite porte^ but you get in without knocking." " I cannot imagine that the examination would be much of a difficulty," said Mrs. Trafford. Ton}^ shook his head in dissent, and gave a sad faint sigh. *'I'd engage to coach him in a week," broke in Skeffy. *' It was I ground Vyse in Chinese, and taught him that glorious drinking-song, ' Tehin Tehan Ili-Ta ! ' that he offered to sing before the Commissioners if they could play the accompaniment." Leaving Skeffy to revel in his gratifying memories of such literary successes, Alice turned away a few steps with Tony. *' Let us part good friends, Tony," said she, in a low tone. " You '11 go up to the Abbey, I hope, and wish them a good-bye, won't you? " '' I am half ashamed to go now," muttered he. *' No, no, Tony; don't fancy that there is any bi-each in our friendship ; and tell me another thing : would you like me to write to 3'ou? I know you're not very fond of writ- ing yourself, but I '11 not be exacting. You shall have two for one, — three, if you deserve it." He could not utter a word ; his heart felt as if it would 21 322 TONY BUTLER. burst through his side, and a sense of suffocation almost choked him. He knew, if he tried to speak, that his emo- tion would break out, and in his pride he would have suffered torture rather than shed a tear. With a woman's nice tact she saw his confusion, and has- tened to relieve it. " The first letter must, however, be from you, Tony. It need be only half a dozen lines, to say if you have passed your examination, what you think of your new career, and where you are going." "I couldn't write!" stammered out Tony; " I could not!" "Well, I will," said she, with a tone of kind feeling. "Your mother shall tell me where to address you." " You will see mother, then? " asked he, eagerly. " Of course, Tony. If Mrs. Butler will permit me, I will be a frequent visitor." "Oh, if I thought so!" " Do think so, — be assured of it; and remember, Tony, whenever you have courage to think of me as your own old friend of long ago, w^ite and tell me so." These words were not said without a certain ditiiculty. "There, don't let us appear foolish to your smart friend, yonder. Good- bye." " Good-b^^e, Alice," said he, and now the tears rushed fast, and rolled down his cheeks ; but he drew his hand roughly across his face, and, springing upon the car, said, " Drive on, and as hard as you can ; I am too late here." Skeffy shouted his adieux, and waved a most picturesque farewell ; but Tony neither heard nor saw either. Both hands were pressed on his face, and he sobbed as if his very heart was breaking. "Well, if that's not a melodramatic exit, I'm a Dutch- man," exclaimed Skeffy, turning to address Alice; but she too was gone, and he was left standing there alone. " Don't be angry with me, Bella ! don't scold, and I '11 tell you of an indiscretion I have just committed," said Alice, as she sat on her sister's bed. "I think I can guess it," said Bella, looking up in her face. " No, you cannot, — you are not within a thousand miles A MORNING CALL AT TILNEY. 323 of it. I know perfectly what you mean, Bella ; you suspect that I have opened a flirtation with the distinguished Londoner, the wonderful Skeffington Darner." Bella shook her head dissentingly. "Not but one might," continued Alice, laughing, "in a dull season, with an empty house and nothing to do ; just as I "ve seen you trying to play that twankling old harpsichord in the Flemish drawing-room, for want of better; but you are wrong, for all that." " It was not of him I was thinking, Alice, — on my word, it was not. I had another, and, I suppose, a very different person in my head." "Tony!" ^' Just so." "Well, what of him; and what the indiscretion with which you would charge me ? " "With which you charge yourself, Alice dearest! I see it all in that pink spot on your cheek, in that trembling of your lips, and in that quick impatience of your manner." "Dear me! what can it be which has occasioned such agitation, and called up such terrible witnesses against me?" "I'll tell you, Alice. You have sent away that poor boy more in love than ever. You have let him carry away a hope which you well know is only a delusion." " I protest this is too bad. I never dreamed of such a lecture, and I '11 just go downstairs and make a victim of Mr. Damer." Alice arose and dashed out of the room ; not, however, to do as she said, but to hurry to her own room, and lock the door after her as she entered it. CHAPTER XXXIV. TONY ASKS COUNSEL. It was just as Bella said ; Alice had sent off that poor boy '•twice as much in love as ever." Poor fellow! what a strange conflict was that that raged within him ! — all that can make life glorious, give ecstasy to the present and hope to the future, mingled with everything that can throw a gloom over existence, and make it a burden and a task. Must it be ever thus? — must the most exquisite moments of our life, when we have youth and hope and health and energy, be dashed with fears that make us forget all the blessings of our lot, and deem ourselves the most wretched of created beings? In this feverish alternation he travelled along homeward, — now thinking of the great things he could do and dare to win her love, now foreshadowing the time when all hopes should be extinguished, and he should walk the world alone and forsaken. He went over in memory — who has not done so at one time or other? — all she had said to him at their last meeting, asking what ground there might be for hope in this, what reason for belief in that. With what intense avidity do we. seek for the sands of gold in this crushed ar.d crumbled rock I how eagerly do we peer to catch one glitter- ing grain that shall whisper to us of wealth hereafter! Surely, thought he, Alice is too good and too true- hearted to give me even this much of hope if she meant me to despair. Why should she offer to write to me if she intended that I was to forget her? "I wonder," muttered he, in his dark spirit of doubt, — "I wonder if this be simply the woman's way of treating a love she deems beneath her? " He had read in some book or other that it is no uncommon thing for those women whose grace and beauty TONY ASKS COUNSEL. 325 win homage and devotion thus to sport with the affections of their worshippers, and that in this exercise of a cruel power they find an exquisite delight. But Alice was too proud and too high-hearted for such an ignoble pastime. But then he had read, too, that women sometimes fancy that, by encour- aging a devotion they never mean to reward, they tend to elevate men's thoughts, ennobling their ambitions, and inspiring them with purer, holier hopes. What if she should mean this, and no more than this? Would not her very hatred be more bearable than such pity? For a while this cruel thought unmanned him, and he sat there like one stunned and powerless. For some time the road had led between the low furze-clad hills of the country, but now they had gained the summit of a ridge, and there lay beneath them that wild coast-line, broken with crag and promontory towards the sea, and inland swelling and falling in every fanciful undulation, yellow with the furze and the wild broom, but grander for its wide expanse than many a scene of stronger features. How dear to his heart it was! How inexpressibly dear the spot that was interwoven with every incident of his life and every spring of his hope ! There the green lanes he used to saunter with Alice; there the breezy downs over which they can- tered; yonder the little creek where they had Once sheltered from a storm: he could see the rock on which he lit a fire in boyish imitation of a shipwrecked crew! It was of Alice that every crag and cliff, every bay and inlet spoke. "And is all that happiness gone forever? " cried he, as he stood gazing at the scene. "I wonder," thought he, "could Skeffy read her thoughts and tell me how she feels towards me? I wonder will he ever talk to her of me, and what will they say? " His cheek grew hot and red, and he muttered to himself, "Who knows but it may be in pity? " and with the bitterness of the thought the tears started to his eyes, and coursed down his cheeks. That same book, — how it rankled, like a barbed arrow, in his side! — that same book said that men are always wrong in their readings of woman, — that they cannot under- stand the finer, nicer, more subtle springs of her action; and in their coarser appreciation they constantly destroy the 326 TONY BUTLER. interest they would give worlds to create. It was as this thought flashed across his memory the car-driver exclaimed aloud, "Ah, Master Tony, did ever you see as good a pony as yon? he 's carried the minister these eighteen years, and look at him how he jogs along to-day ! " He pointed to a little path in the valley where old Dr. Stewart ambled along on his aged palfrey, the long mane and flowing tail of the beast marking him out though nigh half a mile away. "Why didn't I think of that before?" thought Tony. "Dolly Stewart is the very one to help me. She has not been bred and brought up like Alice, but she has plenty of keen woman's wit, and she has all a sister's love for me, besides. I '11 just go and tell her how we parted, and I '11 ask her frankly what she says to it." Cheered by this bright idea, he pursued his way in better spirits, and soon reached the little path which wound off from the high-road through the fields to the Burnside. Not a spot there unassociated with memories, but they were the memories of early boyhood. The clump of white thorns they used to call the Forest, and where they went to hunt wild beasts ; the little stream they fancied a great and rapid river, swarming with alligators ; the grassy slope, where they had their house, and the tiny garden whose flowers, stuck down at daybreak, were withered before noon ! — too faith- ful emblems of the joys they illustrated ! " Surely," thought he, "no boy had ever such a rare play- fellow as Dolly; so ready to take her share in all the rough vicissitudes of a boy's pleasures, and yet to bring to them a sort of storied interest and captivation which no mere boy could ever have contributed. What a little romance the whole was, — just because she knew how to impart the charm of a story to all they did and all they planned ! " It was thus thinking that he entered the cottage. So still was everything that he could hear the scratching noise of a pen as a rapid writer's hand moved over the paper. He peeped cautiously in and saw Dolly seated, writing busily >^ at a table all strewn over with manuscript: an open book, \ supported by other books, lay before her, at which from time to time she glanced. TONY ASKS COUNSEL. 327 Before Tony had advanced a step she turned round and saw him. '^Was it not strange, Tony?" said she, and she flushed as she spoke. "I felt that you were there before I saw you ; just like long ago, when I always knew where 3^ou were hid." "I was just thinking of that same long ago, Dolly," said he, taking a chair beside her, ''as I came up through the fields. There everything is the same as it used to be when we went to seek our fortune across the sandy desert, near the Black Lake." "Xo," said she, correcting; "the Black Lake was at the foot of Giant's Rock, beyond the rye-field." "So it was, Dolly; you are right." "Ah, Master Tony, I suspect I have a better memory of those days than you have. To be sure, I have not had as many things happening in the mean while to trouble these memories." There was a tone of sadness in her voice, very slight, very faint, indeed, but still enough to tinge these few words with melancholy. "And what is all this writing about?" said he, moving his hands through the papers. "Are you composing a book, Dolly?" "No," said she, timidly; "I am onl}^ translating a little German story. When I was up in London, I was lucky enough to obtain the insertion of a little fairy tale in a small periodical meant for children, and the editor encour- aged me to try and render one of Andersen's stories; but I am a very sorry German, and, I fear me, a still sorrier prose writer; and so, Tony, the work goes on as slowly as that bridge of ours used long ago. Do you remember when it was made, we never had the courage to pass over it! May- hap it will be the same with m}^ poor story, and when fin- ished, it will remain unread." "But why do you encounter such a piece of labor?" said he. "This must have taken a week or more." "A month yesterday, m}^ good Tony; and very proud I am, too, that I did it in a month." "And for what, in heaven's name?" "For three bright sovereigns, Master Tony!" said she, blushing. 328 TONY BUTLER. "Oh, I didn't mean that," said he, in deep shame and confusion. "1 meant only, why did you engage on such a hard task." "I know you did n't mean it, Tony; but I was so proud of my success as an author it would out. Yes," said she, with a feigned air of importance, "I have just disposed of my copyright; and you know, Tony, Milton did not get a great deal more for ' Paradise Lost.' You see," added she, seriously, "what with poor papa's age and his loneliness, and my own not over-great strength, I don't think I shall try (at least, not soon) to be a governess again ; and it behoves me to be as little as I can of a burden to him; and after thinking of various things, I have settled upon this as the best." "What a good girl you are!" said he, and he fixed his eyes full upon her; nor did he know how admiringly, till he saw that her face, her forehead, and even her neck were crimson with shame and confusion. "There is no such great goodness in doing what is simply one's duty," said she, gravely. "I don't know that, Dolly." "Come, come, Tony, you never fancied yourself a hero, just because you are willing to earn your bread, and ready to do so by some sacrifice of your tastes and habits." The allusion recalled Tony to himself and his own cares, and after a few seconds of deep thought, he said, " I am going to make the venture now, Dolly. I am called away to London by telegraph, and am to leave to-morrow morning." "Are you fully prepared, Tony, for the examination? " "Luckily for me, they do not require it. Some acci- dental want of people has made them call in all the available fellows at a moment's warning, and in this way 1 may chance to slip into the service unchallenged." "Nay, but, Tony," said she, reproachfully, "you surely could face the examination?" "I could face it just as I could face being shot at, of course, but with the same certainty of being bowled over. Don't you know, Dolly, that I never knew my grammar lonoj ago till you had dinned it into my head; and as you never TONY ASKS COUNSEL. 329 come to my assistance now, I know well what my fate would be." *'My dear Tony," said she, "do get rid once for all of the habit of underrating your own abilities; as my dear father says, people very easily make self-depreciation a plea of indolence. There, don't look so dreary; I 'm not going to moralize in the few last minutes we are to have together. Talk to me about yourself." "It was for that I came, Dolly," said he, rising and taking a turn or two up and down the room ; for, in truth, he was sorely puzzled how to approach the theme that engaged him. "I want your aid; I want your woman's wit to help me in a difficulty. Here 's what it is, Dolly," and he sat down again at her side, and took her hand in his own. "Tell me, Dolly," said he, suddenly, "is it true, as I have read some- where, that a woman, after having made a man in love with her, will boast that she is not in the least bound to requite his affection if she satisfies herself that she has elevated him in his ambition, given a higher spring to his hope, — made him, in fact, something better and nobler than his own unin- spired nature had ever taught him to be? I 'm not sure that I have said what I meant to say; but you '11 be able to guess what I intend." "You mean, perhaps, will a woman accept a man's love as a means of serving him without any intention of re- turning it?" Perhaps he did not like the fashion in which she put his question, for he did not answer, save by a nod. "I say 3^es; such a thing is possible, and might happen readily enough if great difference of station separated them." "Do you mean if one was rich and the other poor?" "Not exactly: because inequalities of fortune may exist between persons of equal condition." "In which case," said he, hurriedly, "you would not call their stations unequal, would you? " "That would depend on how far wealth contributed to the habits of the wealthier. Some people are so accustomed to affluence, it is so much the accompaniment of their daily lives, that the world has for them but one aspect." 330 TONY BUTLER. "Like our neighbors here, the Lyles, for instance?" said he. Dolly gave a slight start, like a sudden pang of pain, and grew deadly pale. She drew away her hand at the same time, and passed it across her brow. "Does your head ache, dear Dolly?" asked he, compas- sionately. "Slightly; it is seldom quite free of pain. You have chosen a poor guide, Tony, when there is a question of the habits of fine folk. None know so little of their ways as I do. But surely you do not need guidance. Surely you are well capable of understanding them in all their moods." With all her attempts to appear calm and composed, her lips shook and her cheeks trembled as she spoke; and Tou}^, more struck by her looks than her words, passed his arm round her, and said, in a kind and affectionate voice, "I see you are not well, my own dear Dolly; and that I ought not to come here troubling you about my own selfish cares; but I can never help feeling that it 's a sister I speak to." "Yes, a sister," said she, in a faint whisper, — "a sister! " "And that your brother Tony has the right to come to you for counsel and help." "So he has," said she, gulping down something like a sob; "but these days, when my head is weary and tired, and when — as to-da}^ Tony — I am good for nothing — Tell me," said she, hastily, "how does your mother bear your going away? Will she let me come and sit with her often? I hope she will." "That she will, and be so happy to have 3'ou too; and only think, Dolly, Alice Lyle — Mrs. Trafford, I mean — has offered to come and keep her company sometimes. I hope you '11 meet her there; how 3'ou 'd like her, Dolly! " Dolly turned away her head; and the tears, against which she had struggled so long, now burst forth, and slowly fell along her cheek. "You must not fancy, Dolly, that because Alice is rich and great you will like her less. Heaven knows, if humble fortune could separate us, ours might have done so." TOXY ASKS COUNSEL. 331 *'My head is splitting, Tony dear. It is one of those sudden attacks of pain. Don't be angry if I say good-bye; there 's nothing for it but a dark room, and quiet." "My poor dear Dolly," said he, pressing her to him, and kissing her twice on the cheek. "Xo, no!" cried she, hysterically, as though to some- thing she was answering; and then, dashing away, she rushed from the room, and Tony could hear her door shut and locked as she passed in. " How changed from what she used to be ! " muttered he, as he went his way; "I scarcely can believe she is the same! And, after all, what light has she thrown on the difficulty I put before her? Or was it that I did not place the matter as clearly as I might? Was I too guarded, or was I too vague? Well, well. I remember the time when, no matter how stupid / was, she would soon have found out my meaning ! What a dreary thing that life of a governess must be, when it could reduce one so quick of apprehension and so ready-witted as she was to such a state as this! Oh, is she not changed ! " And this was the burden of his musings as he wended his way towards home. CHAPTER XXXV. SIR ARTHUR ON LIFE AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL. "Here it is at last, mother," said Touy, holding up the " despatch " as he entered the cottage. "The order for the examination, Tony! " said she, as she turned pale. "No, but the order to do without it, mother dear! — the order for Anthony Butler to report himself for service, without any other test than his readiness 'to go wherever they want to send him. It seems that there 's a row some- where — or several rows — just now. Heaven bless the fel- lows that got them up, for it gives them no time at the Office to go into any impertinent inquiries as to one's French, or decimal fractions, or the other qualifications deemed essential to carrying a letter-bag, and so they 've sent for me to go off to Japan." "To Japan, Tony, — to Japan? " "I don't mean positively to Japan, for Skeffy says it might be Taganrog, or Timbuctoo, or Tamboff, or some other half-known place. But no matter, mother; it's so much a mile, and something besides, per day; and the short and long of it is, I am to show myself on Tuesday, the 9th, at Downing Street, there to be dealt with as the law may direct." "It's a hasty summons, my poor Tony — " "It might be worse, mother. What would we say to it if it were, ' Come up and be examined ' ? I think I 'm a good- tempered fellow; but I declare to 3'ou frankly, if one of those * Dons ' were to put a question to me that I could n't answer, — and I 'm afraid it would not be easy to put any other, — I 'd find it very hard not to knock him down! 1 mean, of course, mother, if he did it offensively, with a chuckle over ON LIFE AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL. 333 my ignorance, or something that seemed to say, ' There 's a blockhead, if ever there was one!' I know I couldn't help it!" "Oh, Tony, Tony!" said she, deprecatingly. *'Yes, it 's all very well to say Tony, Tony; but here 's how it is. It would be ' all up ' with me. It would be by that time decided that I was good for nothing, and to be turned back. The moment would be a triumphant one for the fellow that ' plucked ' me, — it always is, I 'm told, — but I '11 be shot if it should be all triumph to him ! " "I won't believe this of you, Tony," said she, gravely. "It 's not like your father, sir! " "Then I 'd not do it, mother, — at least, if I could help it," said he, growing very red. "I say, mother, is it too late to go up to the Abbey and bid. Sir Arthur good-bye? Alice asked me to do it, and I promised her." "Well, Tony, I don't know how you feel about these things now, but there was a time that you never thought much what hour of the day or night it was when you went there." "It used to be so! " said he, thoughtfully; and then added, "but I '11 go, at all events, mother; but I '11 not be long away, for I must have a talk with you before bed- time." "I have a note written to Sir Arthur here; will you just give it to him, Tony, or leave it for him when you 're com- ing away, for it wants no answer?" "All right, mother; don't take tea till I come back, and I '11 do my best to come soon." It was a well-worn path that led from the cottage to Lyle Abbey. There was not an hour of day or night Tony had not travelled it; and as he went now, thoughts of all these long-ao:os would crowd on his memor}', making him ask him- self, Was there ever any one had so much happiness as I had in those days? Is it possible that my life to come will ever replace to me such enjoyment as that? He was not a very imaginative j'outh, but he had that amount of the quality that suffices for small castle-building; and he went on, as he walked, picturing to himself what would be the boon he would ask from Fortune if some 334 TONY BUTLER. benevolent fairy were to start out from the tall ferns and grant him his wish. Would it be to be rich and titled and great, so that he might propose to make Alice his wife with- out any semblance of inordinate pretension? or would it not be to remain as he was, poor and humble in condition, and that Alice should be in a rank like his own, living in a cot- tage like Dolly Stewart, with little household cares to look after? It was a strange labyrinth these thoughts led him into, and he soon lost his way completely", unable to satisfy him- self whether Alice might not lose in fascination when no longer surrounded by all the splendid appliances of that high station she adorned, or whether her native gracefulness would not be far more attractive when her life became ennobled by duties. A continual comparison of Alice and Dolly would rise to his mind; nothing could be less alike, and yet there they were, in incessant juxtaposition ; and while he pictured Alice in the humble manse of the minister, beautiful as he had ever seen her, he wondered whether she would be able to subdue her proud spirit to such lowly ways, and make of that thatched cabin the happy home that Dolly had made it. His experiences of life were not very large, but one lesson they had certainly taught him, — it was, to recognize in persons of condition, when well brought up, a great spirit of accommodation. In the varied company of Sir Arthur's house he had constantly found that no one submitted with a better grace to accidental "hardships than he whose station had usually elevated him above the risks of their occurrence, and that in the chance roughings of a sportsman's life it was the born gentleman — Sybarite it might be at times — whose temper best sustained him in all difficulties, and whose gallant spirit bore him most trium- phantly over the crosses and cares that beset him. It might not be a ver}^ logical induction that led him to apply this reasoning to Alice, but he did so, and in so doing he felt very little how the time went over, till he found himself on the terrace at L^^le Abbey. Led on by old habit, he passed in without ringing the bell, and was already on his way to the drawing-room when he met Hailes the butler. ON LIFE AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL. 335 In the midst of a shower of rejoicings at seeing him again, • — for he was a great favorite with the household, — Ilailes hastened to show him into the dining-room, where, dinner over, Sir Arthur sat in an easy-chair at the fire, alone, and sound asleep. Roused by the noise of the opening door, Sir Arthur started and looked up; nor was he, indeed, very full awake while Tony blundered out his excuses for disturbing him. "My dear Tony, not a word of this. It is a real pleasure to see you. I was taking a nap, just because I had nothing better to do. We are all alone here now, and the place feels strange enough in the solitude. Mark gone — the girls away — and no one left but Lady Lyle and myself. There's your old friend; that's some of the '32 claret; fill your glass, and tell me that you are come to pass some days with us." "I wish I was, sir; but I have come to say good-bye. I 'm off to-morrow for London." "For London! What! another freak, Tony ? " "Scarcely a freak, sir," said he, smiling. '^They've telegraphed to me to come up and report myself for service at the Foreign Office." "As a Minister, eh'" " No, sir; a Messenger." " An excellent thing, too; a capital thing. A man must begin somewhere, you know. Every one is not as lucky as I was, to start with close on twelve hundred a year. I was n't twenty when I landed at Calcutta, Tony, — a mere boy ! " Here the baronet filled his glass, and drank it off with a solemnity that seemed as if it were a silent toast to his own health, for in his own estimation he merited that honor, very few men having done more for themselves than he had ; not that he had not been over-grateful, however, to the fortune of his early days in this boastful acknowl- edgment, since it was in the humble capacity of an admiral's secretary — they called them clerks in those daj^s — he had first found himself in the Indian Ocean, a mere accident leading to his appointment on shore and all his subsequent good fortune. "Yes, Tony," continued he, "I started at what one calls a high rung of the ladder. It was then I' 336 TONY BUTLER. first saw your father; he was about the same age as you are now. He was on Lord Dollington's staff. Dear me, dear me ! it seems like yesterday ; " and he closed his eyes, and seemed lost in revery ; but if he really felt like yester- day, he would have remembered how insolently the superb aide-de-camp treated the meek civilian of the period, and how immeasurably above Mr. Lyle of those days stood the haughty Captain Butler of the Governor-General's staff. "The soldiers used to fancy they had the best of it, Tony ; but, I take it, we civilians won the race at last ; " and his eyes ranged over the vast room, with the walls covered by pictures, and the sideboard loaded with massive plate, while the array of decanters on the small spider-table beside him suggested largely of good living. "A very old friend of mine, Jos. Hughes — he was salt assessor at Bussorabad — once remarked to me, ' Lyle,' said he, ' a man must make his choice in life, whether he pre- fers a brilliant start or a good finish, for he cannot have both.' Take your pleasure when young, and 3'ou must con- sent to work when old ; but if you set out vigoroush', deter- mined to labor hard in early life, when you come to my age, Tony, you may be able to en jo}^ your rest " — and here he waved his hand round, as though to show the room in which they sat, — "to enjoy 3'our rest, not without dignity." Tony was an attentive listener, and Sir Arthur was flat- tered, and went on. "I am sincerely glad to have the opportunity of these few moments with you. I am an old pilot, so to say, on the sea you are about to venture upon ; and really, the great difficulty j^oung fellows have in life is, that the men who know the whole thing from end to end will not be honest in giving their experiences. There is a certain ' snobbery ' — I have no other word for it — that prevents their confessing to small beginnings. They don't like telling how humble they were at the start; and what is the consequence? The value of the whole lesson is lost! Now, I have no such scruples, Tony. Good fam- ily connections and relatives of influence I had ; I cannot deny it. I suppose there are scores of men would have coolly sat down and said to their right honorable cousin ON LIFE AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL. 337 or their noble uncle, ' Help me to this, — get me that ; ' but such was not my mode of procedure. No, sir ; I resolved to be my own patron, and 1 went to India." When Sir Arthur said this, he looked as though his words were: "I volunteered to lead the assault. It was I that was first up the breach." "But, after all, Tony, I can't get the boys to believe this." Now these boys were his three sons, two of them middle-aged, white-headed, liverless men in Upper India, and the third that gay dragoon with whom we have had some slight acquaintance. *' I have always said to the boys, ' Don't lie down on your high relations.' " Had he added that they would have found them a most uncomfortable bed, he would not have been beyond the truth. " ' Do as I did, and see how gladly, ay, and how proudly, they will recognize you.' I say the same to you, Tony. You have, I am told, some family con- nections that might be turned to account?" "None, sir; not one," broke in Tony, boldly. "Well, there is that Sir Omerod Butler. I don't sus- pect he is a man of much actual influence. He is, I take it, a bygone." " I know nothing of him; nor do I want to know any- thing of him," said Tony, pushing his glass from him, and looking as though the conversation were one he would gladly change for any other topic ; but it was not so easy to tear Sir Arthur from such a theme, and he went on. " It would not do for you, perhaps, to make any advances towards him." " I should like to see myself! " said Tony, half choking with angry impatience. "I repeat, it would not do for you to take this step; but if you had a friend — a man of rank and station — one whose position your uncle could not but acknowledge as at least the equal of his own — " "He could be no friend of mine w^ho should open any negotiations on my part with a relation who has treated my mother so uncourteously, sir." " I think you are under a mistake, Tony. Mrs. Butler told me that it was rather her own fault tlian Sir Omerod's that some sort of reconciliation was not effected. Indeed, 22 338 TONY BUTLER. she once showed me a letter from your uncle when she was in trouble about those Canadian bonds." "Yes, yes, I know it all," said Tony, rising, as if all his patience was at last exhausted. " I have read the letter you speak of ; he offered to lend her five or six hundred pounds, or to give it, I forget which ; and he was to take me " — here he burst into a fit of laughter that was almost hysterical in its harsh mockery — "to take ine, I don't know what he was to do with me, for I believe he has turned Papist, Jesuit, or what not ; perhaps 1 was to have been made a priest or a friar ; at all events, I w^as to have been brought up dependent on his bounty, — a bad scheme for each of us. He would not have been very proud of his protege ; and, if I know myself, I don't think I 'd have been very grateful to my protector. My dear mother, however, had too much of the mother in her to listen to it, and she told him so, perhaps too plainly for his refined notions in matters of phraseology ; for he trumped and wrote no more to us." " AYhich is exactly the reason wh}^ a friend, speaking from the eminence which a certain station confers, might be able to place matters on a better and more profitable footing." *' Not with 7ny consent, sir, depend upon it," said Tony, fiercely. " My dear Tony, there is a vulgar adage about the impolicy of quarrelling with one's bread-and-butter; but how far more reprehensible would it be to quarrel with the face of the man who cuts it? " It is just possible that Sir Arthur was as much mystified by his own illustration as was Tony, for each continued for some minutes to look at the other in a state of hopeless bewilderment. The thought of one mN'ster}^ however, re- called another, and Tony remembered his mother's note. ^' By the way, sir, I have a letter here for you from my mother," said he, producing it. Sir Arthur put on his spectacles leisurely, and began to peruse it. It seemed very brief, for in an instant he had returned it to his pocket. ''I conclude you know nothing of the contents of this?" said he, quietly. ON LITE AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL. 339 '* XothiDg whatever." "It is of no consequence. You may simply tell Mrs. Butler from me that I will call on her by an early day ; and now, won't you come and have a cup of tea ? Lady Lyle will expect to see you in the drawing-room." Tony would have refused, if he knew how ; even in his old days he had been less on terms of intimacy with Ladj' Lyle than any others of the family, and she had at times a sort of dignified stateliness in her manner that checked him greatly. " Here's Tony Butler come to take a cup of tea with you, and say good-bye," said Sir Arthur, as he led him into the drawing-room. "Oh, indeed! I am too happy to see him," said she, laying down her book ; while, with a very chilly smile, she added, "and where is Mr. Butler bound for this time?" And simple as the words were, she contrived to impart to them a meaning as though she had said, " AVhat new scheme or project has he now? What wild-goose chase is he at present engaged in?" Sir Arthur came quickly to the rescue, as he said, " He 's going to take up an appointment under the Crown ; and, like a good and prudent lad, to earn his bread, and do some- thing towards his mother's comfort." " I think you never take sugar," said she, smiling faintly; " and for a while you made a convert of Alice." Was there ever a more common-place remark? and yet it sent the blood to poor Tony's face and temples, and over- whelmed him with confusion. " You know that the girls are both away ? " '• It's a capital thing they 've given him," said Sir Arthur, trying to extract from his wife even the semblance of an interest in the young fellow's career. " What is it? " asked she. "How do they call you? Are you a Queen's messenger, or a Queen's courier, or a Foreign Office messenger? " "I'm not quite sure. I believe we are messengers, but whose I don't remember." "They have the charge of all the despatches to the various embassies and legations in every part of the world," said Sir Arthur, pompously. , 340 TONY BUTLER. " How addling it must be, — how confusing ! " "Why so? You don't imagine that they have to retain them, and report them orally, do you?" ^' Well, I'm afraid I did," said she, with a little simper that seemed to say, What did it signify either way? "They'd have made a most unlucky selection in my case," said Tony, laughing, " if such had been the duty." " Do you think you shall like it? " " I suppose I shall. There is so very little I 'm really fit for, that I look on this appointment as a piece of rare luck." " I fancy I 'd rather have gone into the army, — a cavalry regiment, for instance." "The most wasteful and extravagant career a young fellow could select," said Sir Arthur, smarting under some recent and not over-pleasant experiences. " The uniform is so becoming too," said she, languidly. "It is far and away beyond any pretension of my humble fortune. Madam," said Tony, proudly, for there was an im- pertinent carelessness in her manner that stung him to the quick. "Ah, yes," sighed she; "and the army, too, is not the profession for one who wants to marry." Tony again felt his cheek on fire, but he did not utter a word as she went on, " And report says something like this of you, Mr. Butler." " What, Tony ! how is this? I never heard of it before," cried Sir Arthur. " Nor I, sir." "Come, come. It is very indiscreet of me, I know," said Lady Lyle ; " but as we are in such a secret committee here at this moment, I fancied I might venture to offer my con- gratulations." "Congratulations! on what would be the lad's ruin! Why, it would be downright insanity. I trust there is not a word of truth in it." " I repeat, sir, that I hear it all for the first time." " I conclude, then, I must have been misinformed." " Might I be bold enough to ask from what quarter the rumor reached you, or with whom they mated me? " " Oh, as to your choice, I hear she is a very nice girl ON LIFE AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL. 341 indeed, admirably brought up and well educated, — every- thing but rich; but of course that fact was well known to you. Men in her father's position are seldom affluent." '^ And who could possibly have taken the trouble to weave all this romance about me?" said Tony, flushing not the less deeply that he suspected it was Dolly Stewart who was indi- cated by the description. "One of the girls, I forget which, told me. Where she learned it, I forget, if I ever knew; but I remember that the story had a sort of completeness about it that looked like truth." Was it accident or intention that made Lady Lyle fix her eyes steadily on Tony as she spoke? As she did so, his color, at first crimson, gave way to an ashy paleness, and he seemed like one about to faint. "After all," said she, "perhaps it was a mere flu'tation that people magnified into marriage." " It was not even that," gasped he out, hoarsely. " I am overstaying my time, and my mother will be waiting tea for me," muttered he; and with some scarcely intelligible at- tempts at begging to be remembered to Alice and Bella, he took his leave, and hurried away. While Tony, with a heart almost bursting with agony, wended his way towards home. Lady Lyle resumed her novel, and Sir Arthur took up the "Times." After about half an hour's reading he laid down the paper, and said, " I hope there is no truth in that story about young Butler." " Not a word of it," said she, dr^dy. " Not a word of it ! but I thought you believed it." '* Nothing of the kind. It was a lesson the young gentle- man has long needed, and I was only waiting for a good opportunity to give it." "I don't understand you. What do you mean by a lesson?" " I have very long suspected that it was a great piece of imprudence on our part to encourage the intimacy of this young man here, and to give him that position of familiarity which he obtained amongst us ; but I trusted implicitly to the immeasurable distance that separated him from our girls, to secure us against danger. That clever man of the world, Mr. Maitland, however, showed me I was wrong. He was 842 TONY BUTLER. not a week here till he saw enough to induce him to give me a warning ; and though at first he thought it was Bella's favor he aspired to, he afterwards perceived it was to Alice he du-ected his attentions." ''I can't believe this possible. Tony would never dare such a piece of presumption." "You forget two things, Sir Arthur. This young fellow fancies that his good birth makes him the equal of any one ; and, secondly, Alice, in her sense of independence, is exactly the girl to do a folly, and imagine it to be heroic ; so Maitland himself said to me, and it was perfectly mirac- ulous how w^ell he read her whole nature. And indeed it was he who suggested to me to charge Tony Butler with being engaged to the minister's daughter, and told me — and as I saw, with truth — how thoroughly it would test his suspicions about him. I thought he was going to faint, — he really swayed back and forwards when I said that it was one of the girls from whom I had the story." " If I could only believe this, he should never cross the threshold again. Such insolence is, however, incredible." " That's a man's way of regarding it; and however you sneer at our credulity, it enables us to see scores of things that your obstinacy is blind to. I am sincerely glad he is going away." "So am I — now; and I trust, in my heart, we havo seen the last of him." " How tired you look, my poor Tony ! " said his mother, as he entered the cottage and threw himself heavily and wearily into a chair. '■'lam tired, mother, — very tired and jaded." " I wondered what kept you so long, Tony ; for I had time to pack 3'our trunk, and to put awa}^ all your things ; and when it was done and finished, to sit down and sorrow over your going away. Oh, Tony dear, are n't we ungrateful creatures, when we rise up in rebellion against the very mercies that are vouchsafed us, and say. Why was my prayer granted me? I am sure it was many and many a night, as I knelt down, I begged the Lord would send you some calling or other, that you might find means of an honest living ; and a line of life* that would n't disgrace ON LIFE AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL. 343 the stock you came from ; and now that He has graciously heard me, here 1 am repining and comphiining just as if it was n't my own supplication that was listened to." Perhaps Tony was not in a humor to discuss a nice question of ethical meaning, for he abruptly said, " Sir Arthur Lyle read 3'our note over, and said he 'd call one of these days and see you. I suppose he meant with the answer." " There was no answer, Tony ; the matter was just this, — I wanted a trifle of an advance from the bank, just to give you a little money when you have to go away ; and Tom M* El wain, the new manager, not knowing me perhaps, referred the matter to Sir Arthur, which was not what I wished or intended, and so I wrote and said so. Perhaps I said so a little too curtly, as if I was too proud, or the like, to accept a favor at Sir Arthur's hands ; for he wrote me a very beautiful letter — it went home to my heart — about his knowing your father long ago, when they were both lads, and had the wide world before them ; and allud- ing very touchingly to the Lord's bounties to himself, — blessing him with a full garner." " I hope you accepted nothing from him," broke in Tony, roughly. *'No, Tony; for it happened that James Hewson, the apothecary, had a hundred pounds that he wanted to lay out on a safe mortgage, and so I took it, at six per cent, and gave him over the deeds of the little place here." '' For a hundred pounds ! AYhy, it 's worth twelve hundred at least, motlier ! " " What a boy it is ! " said she, laughing. " I merely gave him his right to claim the one hundred that he advanced, Tony dear ; and my note to Sir Arthur was to ask him to have the bond, or whatever it is called, rightly drawn up and witnessed, and at the same time to thank him heartily for his own kind readiness to serve me." '' I hate a mortgage, mother. I don't feel as if the place was our own any longer." " Your father's own words, eighteen years ago, when he drew all the money he had out of the agent's hands, and paid off the debt on this little spot here. ' Nelly,' said he, ' I can 344 TONY BUTLER. look out of the window now, and not be afraid of seeing a man coming up the road to ask for his interest.' " ''It's the very first thing I '11 try to do, is to pay off that debt, mother. Who knows but I may be able before the year is over ! But I am glad you did n't take it from Sir Arthur." "You're as proud as your father, Tony," said she, with her eyes full of tears ; ' ' take care that you 're as good as he was too." CHAPTER XXXVI. A CORNER IN DOWNING STREET. When Tony Butler found himself inside of the swinging glass-door at Downing Street,. and in presence of the august Mr. Willis, the porter, it seemed as if all the interval since he had last stood in the same place had been a dream. The head-porter looked up from his "Times," and with a sever- ity that showed he had neither forgotten nor forgiven, said, "Messengers' room — first pair — corridor — third door on the left." There was an unmistakable dignity in the manner of the speaker which served to show Tony not merely that his former offence remained unpardoned, but that his en- trance into public life had not awed or impressed in any way the stern official. Tony passed on, mounted the stairs, and sauntered along a very ill-kept corridor, not fully certain whether it was the third, fourth, or fifth door he was in search of, or on what hand. After about half an hour passed in the hope of see- ing one to direct him, he made bold to knock gently at a door. To his repeated summons no answer was returned, and he tried another, when a shrill voice cried, "Come in." He entered, and saw a slight, sickly-looking youth, very elaborately dressed, seated at a table, writing. The room was a large one, very dirty, ill-furnished, and disorderly. "Well, what is it?" asked the j'oung gentleman, without lifting his head or his eyes from the desk. "Could you tell me," said Tony, courteously, "where I ought to go? I 'm Butler, an extra messenger, and I have been summoned to attend and report here this morning." "All right; we want you," said the other, still writing; "wait an instant." So saying, he wrote on for several min- utes at a rapid pace, muttering the words as his pen traced 346 TONY BUTLER. them; at last he finished, and, descending from his high seat, passed across the room, opened a door, which led into another room, and called out, — "The messenger come, sir! " " Who is he ? " shouted a very harsh voice. "First for Madrid, sir," said the youth, examining a slip of paper he had just taken from his pocket. "His name?" shouted out the other again. "Poynder, sir." "I beg your pardon," suggested Tony, mildly. "I'm Butler, not Poynder." Who's talking out there, — what's that uproar screamed the voice, very angrily. "He says he's not for Madrid, sir. It's a mistake," cried the youth. "No; you misunderstand me," whispered Tony. "I only said I was not Poynder." "He says he 's in Poynder's place." "I'll stop this system of substitutes!" cried the voice. "Send him in here." "Go in there," said the youth, with a gesture of his thumb, and his face at the same time wore an expression which said as plain as any words could have spoken, "And you '11 see how you like it." As Tony entered, he found himself standing face to face to the awful official, Mr. Brand, the same who had reported to the Minister his intended assault upon Willis, the porter. "Aw! what's all this about?" said Mr. Brand, pompously. "You are Mr. —Mr.—" "Mr. Butler," said Tony, quietly, but with an air of determination. "And instead of reporting yourself, you come here to say that you have exchanged with Poynder." "I never heard of Poynder till three minutes ago." "You want, however, to take his journey, sir. Y^ou call yourself first for Madrid?" "I do nothing of the kind. I have come here because I got a telegram two days ago. I know nothing of Poynder, and just as little about Madrid." "Oh — aw! you're Butler! I remember all about you A CORNER IN DOWNING STREET. 347 now; there is such a swarm of extras appointed, that it 's impossible to remember names or faces. You 're the young gentleman who — who — yes, yes, I remember it all; but have you passed the civil-service examiners?" "No; I was preparing for the examination when I re- ceived that message, and came off at once." "Well, you '11 present yourself at Burlington House. Mr. Blount will make out the order for you; you can go up the latter end of this week, and we shall want yo\i immediately.'* ''But lam not ready. I was reading for this examination when your telegram came, and I set off at the instant." "Blount, Mr. Blount!" screamed out the other, angrily; and as the affrighted youth presented himself, all pale and trembling, he went on^ "What's the meaning of this, sir? You first attempt to pass this person off for Poynder : and when that scheme fails, you endeavor to slip him into the service without warrant or qualification. He tells me him- self he knows nothing." "Very little, certainly, but I don't remember telling you so," said Tony. "And do you imagine, sir, that a bravado about your ignorance is the sure road to advancement? I can tell you, young gentleman, that the days of mighty patronage are gone by; the public require to be served with competent officials. We are not in the era of Castlereaghs and Van- sittarts. If you can satisfy the Commissioners, you may come back here ; if you cannot, you may go back to — to whatever life you were leading before, and were probably most fit for. As for you, Mr. Blount, I told you before that on the first occasion of your attempting to exercise here that talent for intrigue on which you pride yourself, and of which Mr. Vance told me you were a proficient, I should report you. I now say, sir, — and bear in mind I say so openly, and to yourself, and in presence of your friend here, — I shall do so this day." "May I explain, sir?" "You may not, sir, — withdraw! " The wave of the hand that accompanied this order evidently included Tony; but he held his ground undismayed, while the other fell back, overwhelmed with shame and confusion. 348 TONY BUTLER. Not deigning to be aware of Tony's continued presence in the room, Mr. Brand again addressed himself to his writing materials, when a green-cloth door at the back of the room opened, and Mr. Vance entered, and, advancing to where the other sat, leaned over his chair and whispered some words in his ear. "You '11 find I 'm right," muttered he, as he finished. "And where 's the Office to go to? " burst out the other, in a tone of ill-repressed passion; "will you just tell me that? Where 's the Ofiice to go — if this continues? " "That's neither your affair nor mine," whispered Vance. "These sort of things were done before we were born, and they will be done after we 're in our graves ! " "And is he to walk in here, and say, 'I'm first for service ; I don't care whether you like it or not ' ? " "He's listening to you all this while, — are you aware of that?" whispered Vance; on which the other grew very red in the face, took off his spectacles, wiped and replaced them, and then, addressing Ton}^, said, "Go away, sir, — leave the Office." "Mr. Brand means that you need not wait," said Vance, approaching Tony. "All you have to do is to leave ^^our town address here, in the outer office, and come up once or twice a day." "And as to this examination," said Tony, stoutly, "it 's better I should say once for all — " "It 's better you should just say nothing at all," said the other, good-humoredly, as he slipped his arm inside of Tony's and led him away. "Y^ou see," whispered he, "my friend Air. Brand is hasty." "I should think he is hasty ^ " growled out Tony. "But he is a warm-hearted — a truly warm-hearted man — " "Warm enough he seems." "When you know him better — " "I don't want to know him better! " burst in Tony. "I got into a scrape already with just such another: he was collector for the port of Derry, and I threw him out of the window, and all the blame was laid upon me ! " "Well, that certainly was hard," said Vance, with a droll twinkle of his eye, — "I call that very hard." A CORNER IN DOWNING STREET. 349 "So do I, after the language be used to me, saying all the while, ' I 'm no duellist, — I 'm not for a saw-pit, with coffee and pistols for two,' — and all that vulgar slang about murder and such-like." "And was he much hurt? " *'No; not much. It was only his collar-bone and one rib, I think, — I forget now, — for I had to go over to Skye, and stay there a good part of the summer." "Mr. Blount, take down this gentleman's address, and show him where he is to wait; and don't — " Here he lowered his voice, so that the remainder of his speech was inaudible to Tony. "Not if I can help it, sir," replied Blount; "but if you knew how hard it is ! " There was something almost piteous in the youth's face as he spoke ; and, indeed, Vance seemed moved to a certain degree of compassion as he said, "Well, well, do your best, — do your best, none can do more." "It 's two o'clock. I '11 go out and have a cigar with you, if you don't mind," said Blount to Tony. "We're quite close to the Park here; and a little fresh air will do me good." "Come along," said Tony, who, out of compassion, had already a sort of half-liking for the much-suffering young fellow. "I wish Skeffy was here," said Tony, as they went down- stairs. "Do you know Skefif Damer, then? " "Know him! I believe he 's about the fellow I like best in the world.'* "So do I," cried the other, warmly; "he hasn't his equal living; he 's the best-hearted and he's the cleverest fellow I ever met." And now they both set to, as really only young friends ever do, to extol a loved one with that heartiness that neither knows limit nor measure. What a good fellow he was, — how much of this, without the least of that, — how unspoiled, too, in the midst of the flattery he met with! "If you just saw him as I did a few days back," said Tonj^ calling up in memory Skeffy's hearty enjoyment of their humble cottage-life. 850 TONY BUTLER. "If you but knew how they think of him in the Office,*' said Blount, whose voice actually trembled as he touched on the^ holy of holies. "Confound the Office!" cried Tony. "Yes; don't look shocked. I hate that dreary old house, and I detest the grim old fellows inside of it." "They 're severe, certainly," muttered the other, in a deprecatory tone. "Severe isn't the name for it. They insult — they out- rage — that 's what they do. I take it that you and the other young fellows here are gentlemen, and I ask, Why do you bear it, — why do you put up with it? Perhaps you like it, however." "No; we don't like it," said he, with an honest sim- plicity. "Then, I ask again, why do you stand it? " "I believe we stand it just because we can't help it." "Can't help it!" "What could we do? What would you do?" asked Blount. "I 'd go straight at the first man that insulted me, and say, Retract that, or I '11 pitch you over the banisters." "That's all very fine with you fellows who have great connections and powerful relatives ready to stand by you and pull you out of any scrape, and then, if the worst comes, have means enough to live without work. That will do very well for you and Skeffy. Skeffy will have six thousand a year one of these days. No one can keep him out of Digby Damer's estate; and you, for aught I know, may have more." "I have n't sixpence, nor the expectation of sixpence in the world. If I am plucked at this examination I may go and enlist, or turn navvy, or go and sweep away the dead leaves like that fellow yonder." "Then take my advice, and don't go up.'* "Go up where?" "Don't go up to be examined; just wait here in town; don't show too often at the office, but come up of a morning about twelve, — I 'm generally down here by that time. There will be a great press for messengers soon, for they A CORNER IN DOWNING STREET. 351 have made a regulation about one going only so far, and another taking up his bag and handing it on to a third; and the consequence is, there are three now stuck fast at Mar- seilles, and two at Belgrade, and all the Constantinople despatches have gone round by the Cape. Of course, as I say, they '11 have to alter this, and then we shall suddenly want every fellow we can lay hands on ; so all you have to do is just to be ready, and I '11 take care to start you at the first chance." "You're a good fellow," cried Tony, grasping his hand; *'if you only knew what a bad swimmer it was you picked out of the water." *'0h, I can do that much, at least," said he, modestly, "though I'm not a clever fellow like Skeffy; but I must go back, or I shall ' catch it. ' Look in the day after to-morrow." "And let us dine together; that is, you will dine with me," said Tony. The other acceded freely, and they parted. That magnetism by which young fellows are drawn instantaneously towards each other, and feel something that, if not friendship, is closely akin to it, never repeats itself in after life. We grow more cautious about our con- tracts as we grow older. I wonder do we make better bargains ? If Tony was then somewhat discouraged by his reception at the Office, he had the pleasure of thinking he was com- pensated in that new-found friend who was so fond of Skeffy, and who could talk awa}" as enthusiastically about him as himself. "Now for M'Gruder and Cannon Row. wherever that may be," said he, as he sauntered along; "I '11 certainly go and see him, if only to shake hands with a fellow that showed such ' good blood. ' " There was no one quality which Tony could prize higher than this. The man who could take a thrashing in good part, and forgive him who gave it, must be a fine fellow, he thought; and I 'm not disposed to say he was wrong. The address was 27 Cannon Street, City; and it was a long way off, and the day somewhat spent when he reached it. 352 TONY BUTLER. ''Mr. M'Gruder?" asked Tony of a blear-eyed man, at a small faded desk in a narrow office. "Inside!" said he, with a jerk of his thumb j and Tony pushed his way into a small room, so crammed with reams of paper that there was barely space to squeeze a passage to a little writing-table next the window. "Well, sir, your pleasure?" said M'Gruder, as Tony came forward. "You forget me, I see; my name is Butler." "Eh! what! I ought not to forget you," said he, rising, and grasping the other's hand warmly; "how are you? when did you come up to town? You see the eye is all right; it was a bit swollen for more than a fortnight, though. Hech, sirs! but you have hard knuckles of your own." It was not easy to apologize for the rough treatment he had inflicted, and Tony blundered and stammered in his attempts to do so; but M'Gruder laughed it all off with per- fect good-humor, and said, "My wife will forgive you, too, one of these days, but not just yet; and so we'll go and have a bit o' dinner our two selves down the river. Are you free to-day ? " Tony was quite free and ready to go anywhere; and so away they went, at first by river steamer, and then by a cab, and then across some low-lying fields to a small soli- tary house close to the Thames, — "Shads, chops, and fried-fish house," over the door, and a pleasant odor of each around the premises. "Ain't we snug here? no tracking a man this far," said M'Gruder, as he squeezed into a bench behind a fixed table in a very small room. "I never heard of the woman that ran her husband to earth down here." That this same sense of security had a certain value in M'Gruder' s estimation was evident, for he more than once recurred to the sentiment as they sat at dinner. The tavern was a rare place for "hollands," as M'Gruder said; and they sat over a peculiar brew for which the house was famed, but of which Tony's next day's experiences do not encourage me to give the receipt to my readers. The albeit innocent of duty, might have been better; A CORNER IN DOWNING STREET. 353 but all these, like some other pleasures we know of, ouly were asvsociated with sorrow in the future. Indeed, in the cordial freedom that bound them they thought very little of either. They had grown to be very confidential; and M'Gruder, after inquiring what Tony proposed to himself by way of a livelihood, gave him a brief sketch of his own rise from very humble beginnings to a condition of reason- ably fair comfort and sufficiency. *'l 'm in rags, ye see, Mr. Butler," said he, "my father was in rags before me." "In rags! " cried Tony, looking at the stout sleek broad- cloth beside him. "1 mean," said the other, "I 'm in the rag trade, and we supply the paper-mills; and that's why my brother Sam lives away in Italy. Italy is a rare place for rags, — I take it they must have no other wear, for the supply is inexhaustible, — and so Sam lives in a seaport they call Leghorn; and the reason I speak of it to you is that if this messenger trade breaks down under you, or that ye 'd not like it, there 's Sam there would be ready and willing to lend you a hand ; he 'd like a fellow o' your stamp, that would go down amongst the wild places on the coast, and care little about the wild people that live in them. Mayhap this vrould be beneath you, though?" said he, after a moment's pause. "I 'm above nothing at this moment except being depend- ent; I don't want to burden my mother." "Dolly told us about your fine relations,, and the high and mighty folk ye belong to." "Ay, but they don't belong to me, — there 's the differ- ence," said Tony, laughing; then added, in a more thought- ful tone, "1 never suspected that Dolly spoke of me." "That she did, and very often too. Indeed, I may say that she talked of very little else. It was Tony this and Tony that; and Tony went here and Tony went there; till one day Sam could bear it no longer — for you see Snm was mad in love with her, and said over and over again that he never met her equal. Sam saj^s to me, ' Bob,' says he, ' I can't bear it any more.' ' What is it,' says I, ' that you can't bear?' — for I thought it was something about the drawback duty on mixed rags he was meaning. But no, 354 TONY BUTLER. sirs ; it was that he was wild wi' jealousy, and could n't bear her to be a-talkin' about you. ' I think, ' says he, ' if I could meet that same Tony, I 'd crack his neck for him.' " "That was civil, certainly! " said Tony, dryly. '" And as I can't do that, I '11 just go and ask her what she means by it all, and if Tony 's her sweetheart? ' " "He did not do that! " Tony cried, half angrily. "Yes, but he did, though; and what for no? Y"ou wouldn't have a man lose his time pricing a bale of goods when another had bought them? If she was in treaty with you, Mr. Butler, where was the use of Sam spending the day trying to catch a word wi' her? So, to settle the matter at once, he overtook her one morning going to early meeting with the children, and he had it out." "Well, well?" asked Tony, eagerly. "Well, she told him there never was anj'thing like love between herself and you; that you were aye like brother and sister; that you knew each other from the time you could speak; that of all the wide world she did not know any one so well as you; and then she began to cry, and cried so bitterly that she had to turn back home again, and go to her room as if she was taken ill ; and that 's the way Mrs. M'Gruder came to know what Sam was intending. She never suspected it before; but, hech sirs! if she didn't open a broadside on every one of us! And the upshot was, Dolly was packed off home to her father; Sam went back to Leghorn; and there's Sally and Maggie going back in everything ever they learned ; for it ain't every day j^ou pick up a lass like that for eighteen pounds a year, and her washing." "But did he ask her to marry him? " cried Tony. "He did. He wrote a letter — a ver}^ good and sensible letter too — to her father. He told him that he was only a junior, with a small share, but that he had saved enough to furnish a house, and that he hoped, with industry and care and thrifty ways, he would be able to maintain a wife decently and well ; and he referred to Dr. Forbes of Auchter- lonie for a character of him ; and I backed it myself, saying, in the name of the house, it was true and correct." "What answer came to this? " A CORNER IN DOWNING STREET. 355 *'A letter from the minister, saj'ing that the lassie was poorl}', and in so delicate a state of health it would be better not to agitate her by any mention of this kind for the pres- ent; meanwhile he would take up his information from Dr. Forbes, whom he knew well ; and if the reply satisfied him, he 'd write again to us in the course of a week or two; and Sam 's just waiting patiently for his answer, and doing his best, in the mean while, to prepare, in case it 's a favorable one." Tony fell into a revery. That story of a man in love with one it might never be his destiny to win had its own deep significance for him. Was there any grief, was there any misery, to compare with it? And although Sam M'Gruder, the junior partner in the rag trade, was not a very romantic sort of character, yet did he feel an intense sympathy for him. They were both sufferers from the same malady, — albeit Sam's attack was from a very mild form of the complaint. "You must give me a letter to your brother," said he at length. "Some day or other I'm sure to be in Italy, and I 'd like to know him." "Ay, and he 'd like to know ijou^ now that he ain't jealous of you. The last thing he said to me at parting was, ' If ever I meet that Tony Butler, I '11 give him the best bottle of wine in my cellar.' " "AVhen you write to him next, say that I 'm just as eager to take him by the hand, mind that. The man that 's like to be a good husband to Dolly Stewart is sure to be a brother to me." And they went back to town, talking little by the way, for each was thoughtful, — M'Gruder thinking much over all they had been saying ; Tony full of the future, yet not able to exclude the past. CHAPTER XXXVII. MR. BUTLER FOR DUTY ON - *'I SUPPOSE M'Gruder's right," muttered Tony, as he sauntered away drearily from the door at Downing Street, one day in the second week after his arrival in London. " A man gets to feel very like a ' flunke}^,' coming up in this fashion each morning ' for orders.' 1 am more than half disposed to close with his offer and go ' into rags ' at once." If he hesitated, he assured himself, very confidently too, that it was not from the name or nature of the commercial operation. He had no objection to trade in rags any more than in hides or tallow or oakum, and some gum which did not "breathe of Araby the blest." He was sure that it could not possibly affect his choice, and that rags were just as legitimate and just as elevating a speculation as sherry from Cadiz or silk from China. He was ingenious enough in his self-discussions ; but somehow, though he thought he could tell his mother frankly and honestly the new trade he was about to embark in, for the life of him he could not summon courage to make the communication to Alice. He fancied her, as she read the avowal, repeating the word " rags," and, while her lips trembled with the coming laughter, saying, " What in the name of all absur- dity led him to such a choice?" And what a number of vapid and tasteless jokes would it provoke! "Such snob- bery as it all is," cried he, as he walked the room angrily ; "as if there was any poetry in cotton bales, or anything romantic in molasses, and 3^et I might engage in these without reproach, without ridicule. I think I ought to be above such considerations. I do think my good blood might serve to assure me that in whatever I do honorably, honestly, and avowedly there is no derogation." MR. BUTLER FOR DUTY ON — . 357 But the snobbery was stronger than he wotted of ; for, do what he would, he could not frame the sentence in which he should write the tidings to Alice, and yet he felt that there would be a degree of meanness in the non-avowal infinitely more intolerable. While he thus chafed and fretted, he heard a quick step mounting the stair, and at the same instant his door was flung open, and Skeffy Damer rushed towards him and grasped both his hands. "Well, old Tony, you scarcely expected to see me here, nor did I either thirty hours ago, but they telegraphed for me to come at once. I 'm off for Naples." " And why to Naples? " " I '11 tell you, Tony," said he, confidentially ; " but remem- ber this is for yourself alone. These things mustn't get abroad ; they are Cabinet secrets, and not known out of the Privy Council." " You may trust me," said Tony ; and Skeffy went on. *' I'm to be attached there," said he, solemnly. " What do you mean by attached? " " /'m going there officially. They want me at our Lega- tion. Sir George Home is on leave, and Mecklam is Charge d'Affaires ; of course every one knows what that means." "But /don't," said Tony, bluntly. "It means being bullied, being jockeyed, being out- manoeuvred, laughed at by Brennier, and derided by Ca- raffa. Mecklam 's an ass, Tony, that 's the fact, and they know it at the Office, and I 'm sent out to steer the ship." " But what do you know about Naples? " " I know it just as I know the Ecuador question, — just as I know the Mouth of the Danube question, — as I know the slave treaty with Portugal, and the Sound dues with Den- mark, and the right of search, and the INIosquito frontier, and everything else that is pending throughout the whole globe. Let me tell you, old fellow, the others — the French, the Italians, and the Austrians — know me as well as they know Palmerston. What do you think Walewski told Lady Pancroft the day Cavour went down to Vichy to see the Emperor? They held a long conversation at a 358 TONY BUTLER. table where there were writing-materials, and Cavour has an Italian habit of scribbling all the time he talks, and he kept on scratching with a pen on a sheet of blotting-paper, and what do you think he wrote? — the one word, over and over again, Skeff, Skeff, — nothing else. ' Which led us,' says Walewski, ' to add, Who or what was Skeff? when they told us he was a young fellow ' — these are his own words — ' of splendid abilities in the Foreign Office ; ' and if there is anything remarkable in Cavour, it is the way he knows and finds out the coming man." *' But how could he have heard of you? " '' These fellows have their spies everywhere, Tony. Gort- chakoff has a photograph of me, with two words in Russian underneath, that I got translated, and that mean ' infernally dangerous ' — tanskl serateztrakoff, infernall}- dangerous ! — over his stove in his study. You 're behind the scenes now, Tony, and it will be rare fun for you to watch the newspapers, and see how differently things will go on at Naples after I arrive there." " Tell me something about home, Skeffy ; I want to hear about Tilney. Whom did you leave there when you came away ? " '- 1 left the Lyles, Alice and Bella, — none else. I was to have gone back with them to Lyle Abbey if I had stayed till Monday, and I left them, of course, very disconsolate, and greatly put out." " I suppose you made up to Alice. I thought you would," said Tony, half sulkily. " No, old fellow, you do me wrong ; that 's a thing I never do. As I said to Ernest Palfi about Pauline Esterhazy, I '11 take no unfair advantage, — I '11 take no steps in your absence ; and Alice saw this herself." "How do you mean? Alice saw it?" said Tony, red- dening. " She saw it, for she said to me one day, ' Mr. Damer. it seems to me you have very punctilious notions on the score of friendship.' " ' I have,' said I; ' you're right there.' " ' I thought so,' said she." " After all," said Tony, in a half -dogged tone, " I don't *MR. BUTLER FOR DUTY ON . 359 see that the speech had auy reference to ??ie, or to auy peculiar delicacy of yours with respect to me." '' Ah, my poor Tony, you have a deal to learn about women and their ways ! By good luck fortune has given you a friend — the one man — 1 declare I believe what I say — the one man in Europe that knows the whole thing ; as poor Balzac used to say, ' Cher Skeffy, what a fellow you would be if you had my pen ! ' He was a vain creature, Balzac ; but what he meant was, if I could add his descriptive power to my own knowledge of life ; for you see, Tony, this was the difference between Balzac and me. He knew Paris and the salons of Paris, and the women who frequent these salons. I knew^ the human, heart. It was w^oman, as a creature, not a mere conventionality, that she appeared to me." "Well, I take it," grumbled out Tony, "you and your friend had some points of resemblance too." "Ah! you would say that we were both vain. So we were, Tony, — so is every man that is the depository of a certain power. Without this same conscious thought, which you common folk call vanit}^ how should w^e come to exer- cise the gift! The little world taunts us with the very quality that is the essence of our superiority." "Had Bella perfectly recovered? was she able to be up and about ? " "Yes, she was able to take carriage airings, and to be driven about in a small phaeton by the neatest whip in Europe." "Mr. Skeff Damer, eh?" "Tlie same. Ah, these drives, these drives! What delicious memories of woodland and romance ! I fell des- perately in love with that girl, Tony — I pledge you my honor I did. I 've thought a great deal over it all since I started for Ireland, and I have a plan, a plan for us both." "What is it?" " Let us marry these girls. Let ns be brothers in law as well as in love. You prefer Alice, — I consent. Take her, take her, Tony, and may you be happy with her ! " And as he spoke, he laid his hand on the other's head with a reverend solemnit}^ " This is nonsense, and worse than nonsense," said Tony, 360 TONY BUTLER. angrily ; but the other's temper was imperturbable, and he went on: "You fanc}' this is all dreamland that I'm promising you : but that is because you, my dear Tony, with many good qualities, are totally wanting in one, — you have no imagination, and, like all fellows denied this gift, you never can conceive anything happening to you except what has already happened. You like to live in a circle, and you do live in a circle, — you are the turnspits of humanity." " I am a troublesome dog, though, if you anger me," said Tony, half fiercely. " Very possibly, but there are certain men dogs never attack." And as Skeffy said this, he threw forward his chest, held his head back, and looked with an air of such proud defiance that Tony lay back in a chair and laughed heartily. " I never saw a great hulking fellow yet' that was not im- pressed with the greatness of his stature," said Skeffy. '' Every inch after five feet six takes a foot off a man's intellectual standard. It is Skeff Damer says it, Tony, and you may believe it." " I wish you 'd tell me about Tilne}^," said Tony, half irritably. " I appreciate you, as the French say. You want to hear that I am not your rival, — you want to know that I have not taken an}^ ungenerous advantage of your absence. Tonino mio^ be of good comfort, — I preferred the sister; shall I tell you why ? " " I don't want to hear anything about it." "What a jealous dog it is, even after I have declared, on the word of a Damer, that he has nothing to apprehend from me ! It was a lucky day led me down there, Tony. Don't you remember the old woman's note to me, mentioning a hundred pounds, or something like it, she had forgotten to enclose? She found the bank-note afterwards on her table, and after much puzzling with herself, ascertained it was the sum she had meant to remit me. Trifling as the incident was she thought it delicate, or high-minded, or something or other, on my part. She said ' it was so nice of me ; ' and she wrote to my uncle to ask if he ever heard such a pretty trait, and my uncle said he knew scores of spendthrifts MR. BUTLER FOR DUTY ON . 361 would have done much the same ; whereupon the old lady of Tilney, regarding me as ill-used by my relatives, declared she would do something for me ; but as her good intentions were double-barrelled, and she wanted to do something also for Bella, she suggested that we might, as the Oberland peasants say, ' put our eggs in the same basket.' A day was named, too, in which we were all to have gone over to Lyle Abbey, and open negotiations with Sir Arthur, when came this confounded despatch ordering me off to Naples ! At first I determined not to go, — to resign, — to give up public life forever. ' "What 's Hecuba to him ? ' said I ; that is, ' AVhat signifies it to me how Europe fares? Shall I not think of Skeff Damer and his fortunes?' Bowling down dynasties and setting up ninepin princes may amuse a man, but, after all, is it not to the tranquil enjoyments of home he looks for happiness? I consulted Bella, but she would not agree with me. Women, my dear Tony, are more am- bitious than men, — I had almost said, more worldly. She would not, she said, have me leave a career wherein I had given such great promise. ' You might be an ambassador one day,' said she. ' Must be ! ' interposed I, — ' must be ! ' My unfortunate admission decided the question, and I started that night." "I don't think I clearly understand you," said Tony, passing his hand over his brow. ''Am I to believe that you and Bella are engaged ? " '• I know what's passing in your mind, old fellow; I read you like large print. You won't, you can't, credit the fact that I would marry out of the peerage. Say it frankly ; out with it." "Nothing of the kind; but I cannot believe that Bella - " "Ay, but she did," said Skeffy, filling up his pause, while he smoothed and caressed his very young moustaches. "Trust a woman to find out the coming man! Trust a woman to detect the qualities that insure supremacy ! I was n't there quite three weeks in all, and see if she did not discover me. What 's this? Here comes an order for you, Tony," said he, as he looked into the street and rpcopfnized one of the porters of the Foreign Office. " This is the place, 362 TONY BUTLER. Trumins," cried he, opening the window and calling to the man. " You 're looking for Mr. Butler, are n't you? " " Mr. Butler on duty, Friday, 21," w^as all that the slip of paper contained. " There," cried Skeffy, " who knows if we shall not cross the Channel together to-night? Put on your hat and we'll walk down to the Office." CHAPTER XXXVin. TONY WAITING FOR ORDERS. Tony Butler was ordered to Brussels to place himself at the disposal of the Miuister as an ex-messenger. He crossed over to Calais with Skeffy in the mail-boat; and after a long night's talking, for neither attempted to sleep, they parted with the most fervent assurances of friendship. "I'd go across Europe to thrash the fellow would say a hard word of him," muttered Tony ; while Skeffy, with an emotion that made his lip tremble, said, " If the world goes bard with you, I '11 turn my back on it, and we '11 start for New Zealand or Madagascar, Tony, remember that, — I give it to you as a pledge." When Tony presented himself at the Legation, he found that nobody knew anything about him. They had some seven or eight months previous requested to have an addi- tional messenger appointed, as there were cases occurring which required frequent reference to home ; but the emer- gency had passed over, and Brussels was once again as undisturbed by diplomatic relations as any of the Channel Islands. "Take a lodging and make yourself comfortable, marry, and subscribe to a club if you like it," said a gray-headed attache, with a cynical face, "for in all likelihood they'll never remember you 're here." The speaker had some expe- riences of this sort of official forgetfulness, with the added misfortune that, when he once had summoned courage to remonstrate against it, they did remember him, but it was to change him from a first to a second-class mission — in Irish phrase, promoting him backwards — for his temerity. Tony installed himself in a snug little quarter outside the town, and set himself vigorously to study French. In 364 TONY BUTLER. Knickerbocker's " History of New York," we read that the sittings of the Council were always measured and recorded by the number of pipes smoked by the Cabinet. In the same way might it be said that Tony Butler's progress in Ollendorf was only to be computed by the quantity of tobacco consumed over it. The pronouns had cost two boxes of cigars ; the genders a large packet of assorted cavendish and bird's-eye ; and he stood fast on the frontier of the irregular verbs, waiting for a large bag of Turkish that Skeffy wrote to say he had forwarded to him through the Office. Why have we no statistics of the influence of tobacco on education? AVhy will no one direct his attention to the inquiry as to how far the Tony Butlers — a large class in the British Islands — are more moved to exertion, or hope- lessly muddled in intellect, by the soothing influences of smoke ? Tony smoked on and on. He wrote home occasionally, and made three attempts to write to Alice, who, despite his silence, had sent him a very pleasant letter about home matters. It was not a neighborhood to afford much news; and indeed, as she said, "they have been unusually dull of late; scarcely any visitors, and few of the neighbors. We miss your friend Skeff greatly ; for, with all his oddities and eccentricities, he had won upon us imraensel}^ by real traits of generosity and liigh-mindedness. There is another friend of yours here I would gladly know well, but she — Miss Stewart — retreats from all my advances, and has so posi- tively declined allour invitations to the Abbey that it would seem to imply, if such a thing were possible, a special deter- mination to avoid us. I know j^ou well enough, ^Master Tony, to be aware that you will ascribe all my ardor in this pursuit to the fact of there being an obstacle. As 3'ou once told me about a certain short cut from Portrush, the only real advantage it had was a stiff four-foot wall which must be jumped ; but j^ou are wrong, and j^ou are unjust, — two things not at all new to you. jMj^ intentions here were really good. I had heard from your dear mother that Miss Stewart was in bad health, — that fears were felt lest her chest was affected. Now, as the doctors concurred in de- TONY WAITING FOR ORDERS. 365 daring that Bella must pass one winter, at least, in a warm climate, so I imagined how easy it would be to extend the benefit of genial air and sunshine to this really interesting girl, by offering, to take her as a companion. Bella was charmed with my project, and we walked over to the Bum- side on Tuesday to propose it in all form. "To the shame of our diplomacy we failed completely. The old minister, indeed, was not averse to the plan, and professed to think it a most thoughtful attention on our part ; but Dolly, — I call her Dolly, for it is by that name, so often recurring in the discussion, I associate her best with the incident, — Dolly was peremptory in her refusal. I wanted, — perhaps a little unfairly, — I wanted to hear her reasons. I asked if there might not possibly be something in her objec- tions to which we could reply. I pressed her to reconsider the matter, — to take a week, two if she liked, to think over it ; but no, she would not listen to my compromise ; she was steady and resolute, and yet at the same time much moved. She said ' No ! ' but she said it as if there was a reason she should say so, while it was in direct violence to all her wishes. Mind, this is mere surmise on my part. I am speaking of one of whose nature and temperament I know nothing. I may just as easily be wrong as right. She is, indeed, a puzzle to me ; and one little trait of her has com- pletel}' routed all my conceit in my own power of reading character. In my eagerness to overcome her objections, I was picturing the life of enjoyment and interest Italy would open to her, — the charm of a land that realizes in daily life what poets and painters can onl}' shadow forth ; and in my ardor I so far forgot myself as to call her Dolly, — ' dear Dolly,' I said. The words overcame her at once. She grew pale, so sickly pale that I thought she would have fainted ; and as two heav}^ tears stood in her eyes, she said in a cold quiet voice : ' I beg you will not press me any more. I am very grateful to you ; but I cannot accept your offer.' "Bella insisted on our going over to your mother, and enlisting her advocacy in the cause. I did not like the notion, but I gave way. Your dear mother, all kind as she ever is, went the same evening to the Burnside ; but a short 366 TONY BUTLER. note from her the next morning showed she had no better success than ourselves. "Naturally, — you at least will say so, — I am ten times more eager about my plan now that it is pronounced im- practicable. I have written to Dr. Stewart. I have sent papa to him; mamma has called at the cottage. I have made Dr. Reede give a written declaration that Miss Stew- art's case, — I quote him, — 'as indicated by a distinct "Bronchoffany " in the superior portion of the right luug, imperatively demands the benefit of a warm and genial climate ; ' and with all these jjieces de conviction I am beaten, turned out of court, and denied a verdict. "Have you any explanation to offer about this. Master Tony ? Dolly was an old playfellow of yours, your mother tells me. What key can you give us as to her nature? Is she like what she was in those old da3^s; and when did 3^ou cease to have these games together? I fancied — was \i mere fancy? — that she grew a little red when we spoke of you. Mind, sir, I want no confessions. I want nothing from you but what may serve to throw light upon her. If you can suggest to me any means of overcoming the objec- tion she seems to entertain to our plan, do so; and if you cannot, please to hold your peace on this matter ever after. 1 wrote yesterday to Mark, who is now at Milan, to make some inquiries about Italian villa life. I was really afraid to speak to yowY friend Skeff, lest, as mamma said, he should immediately offer us one of the royal palaces as a residence. No matter, he is a dear good fellow, and I have an un- bounded reliance on his generosity. "Now, a word about yourself. Why are you at Brussels? Wh}^ are you a fixed star, after telling us 3'ou were engaged as a planet? Are there any m^^sterious reasons for 3^our residence there? If so, I don't ask to hear them; but yowv mother naturally would like to know something about 3^ou a little mpre explanatory than your last bulletin, that said, ' I am here still, and likely to be so.' "I had a most amusing letter from Mr. Maitland a few days ago. I had put it into this envelope to let you read it, but I took it out again, as I remembered 3"our great and very unjust prejudices against him. He seems to know TONY WAITING FOR ORDERS. 367 every one and everything, and is just as familiar with the great events of politics as with the great people who mould them. I read for your mother his description of the life at Fontainebleau, and the eccentricities of a beautiful Italian Countess Castagnolo, the reigning belle there; and she was much amused, though she owned that four changes of raiment daily was too much even for Delilah herself. "Do put a little coercion on yourself, and write me even a note. I assure you I would write you most pleasant little letters if you showed you merited them. I have a budget of small gossip about the neighbors, no particle of which shall you ever see till you deserve better of your old friend, "Alice Trafford." It may be imagined that it was in a very varying tone of mind he read through this letter. If Dolly's refusal was not based on her unwillingness to leave her father, — and if it were, she could have said so, — it was quite inexplicable. Of all the girls he had ever known, he never saw one more likely to be captivated by such an offer. She had that sort of nature that likes to invest each event of life with a certain romance; and where could anything have opened such a vista for castle-building as this scheme of foreign travel? Of course he could not explain it; how should he? Dolly was only partly like what she used to be long ago. In those days she had no secrets, — at least, none from him ; now she had long dreary intervals of silence and reflection, as though brooding over something she did not wish to tell of. This was not the Dolly Stewart he used to know so well. As he re-read the letter, and came to that passage in which she tells him that if he cannot explain what Dolly's refusal is owing to without making a confession, he need not do so, he grew almost irritable, and said, "What can she mean by this?" Surely it is not possible that Alice could have listened to any story that coupled his name with Dolly's, and should thus by insinuation charge him with the allegation? Lady Lyle had said to himself, "I heard the story from one of the girls." Was it this, then, that Alice referred to? Surely she knew him better; surely she 368 TONY BUTLER. knew how he loved her, no matter how hopelessly it might be. Perhaps women liked to give this sort of pain to those whose heart they owned. Perhaps it was a species of tor- ture they were given to. Skeffy could tell if he were here. Skeffy could resolve this point at once, but it was too much for Jtim. As to the passage about Maitland, he almost tore the paper as he read it. By what right did he correspond with her at all? Why should he write to her even such small matter as the gossip of a court? And what could Alice mean by telling him of it, unless — and oh, the bitterness of this thought! — it was to intimate by a mere passing word the relations that subsisted between herself and Maitland, and thus convey to him the utter hopelessness of his own pretensions? As Tony walked up and down his room, he devised a very strong, it was almost a fierce, reply to this letter. He would tell her that as to Dolly he could not say, but she might have some of his own scruples about that same position called companion. When he knew her long ago, she was independent enough in spirit, and it was by no means impossible she might prefer a less brilliant condition if unclogged with observances that might savor of homage. At all events, he was no fine and subtle intelligence to whom a case of difficulty could be submitted. As for Maitland, he hated him ! he was not going to con- ceal it in any way. His air of insolent superioj'ity he had not forgotten, nor would he forget till he had found an opportunity to retort it. Alice might think him as amusing as she pleased. To himself the man was simply odious, and if the result of all his varied gifts and accomplishments was only to make up such a being as he was, then would he welcome the most unlettered and uninformed clown that ever walked, rather than this mass of conceit and self- sufficiency. He sat down to commit these thoughts to paper, and though he scrawled over seven sheets in the attempt, noth- ing but failure came of it. Maitland came in, if not by name, by insinuation, everywhere; and, in spite of himself, he found he had got into a tone not merely querulous, but TONY WAITING FOR ORDERS. 369 actually aggressive, and was using towards Alice an air of reproof that be almost trembled at as he re-read it. "This will never do," cried he, as he tore up the scrib- bled sheets. "I'll wait till to-morrow, and perhaps I shall do better." When the morrow came, he was despatched on duty, and Alice remained unanswered. 24 CHAPTER XXXIX. THE major's mission. If my reader has been as retentive as I could wish him, he will have borne in mind that on the evening when Major M'Caskey took a very menacing leave of Norman Maitland at Paris, Count Caffarelli had promised his friend to write to General Filangieri to obtain from the King a letter addressed to Maitland in the royal hand by the title of Count of Amalfi, — such a recognition being as valid an act of ennoblement as all the declarations and registrations and emblazonments of heralds and the colleges. It had been originally intended that this letter should be enclosed to Count Ludolf, the Neapolitan envoy at Turin, where Maitland would have found it; but seeing the spirit which had now grown up between Maitland and M'Caskey, and foreseeing well what would occur whenever these two men should meet, Caffarelli, with that astuteness that never fails the Italian, determined to avert the peril by a strata- gem which lent its aid to the object he had in hand. He begged the General would transmit the letter from the King, not to Turin, but to the Castello di Montanara, where Mait- land had long resided, in a far-away part of Calabria, and employ as the messenger M'Caskey himself; by which means this very irritable and irritating individual might be, for a time at least, withdrawn from public view, and an immediate meeting with Maitland prevented. It was not very difficult, without any breach of confi- dence, for Caffarelli to convey to Filangieri that his choice of M'Caskey for this mission was something stronger than a caprice, and that his real wish was that this fiery personage should not be at Naples when they arrived there. THE MAJOR'S MISSION. 371 A very brief note, which reached Caffarelli before he had left Paris, informed him that all he had requested had been duly done. "He gave it," — it was of the King he spoke, — " he gave it at once, Carlo ; only saying, with a laugh, ' One of my brothers may dispute it with him some of these days, for it gives some privilege; but whether it be to claim the rights of the Church after high treason, or to have two wives in Lower Calabria, I don't remember; but tell your friend to avoid both murder and matrimony, at least till he returns to a more civilized region. ' "I shall send the Irish Major with the despatch, as you wish. If I understand you aright, you are not over-anxious he should come back with the answer. But why not be more explicit? If you want remember Calabria is Calabria, — you understand." At first Caffarelli had intended not to show this note to Maitland; but the profound contempt which his friend exhibited for M'Caskey, proved that no sense of a debt of honor outstanding between them would lessen Maitland's satisfaction at hearing that this troublesome " cur " — so he called him — should not be yelping at his heels through the streets of Naples. Maitland, in fact, declared that he knew of no misfortune in life so thoroughly ruinous as to be confronted in a quarrel with a questionable antagonist. From the ridicule of such a situation, he averred, the only escape was in a fatal ending; and Maitland knew nothing so bad as ridicule. Enmity in all its shapes he had faced, and could face again. Give him a foe but worthy of him, and no man ever sprang into the lists with a lighter heart; the dread of a false position was too much for him. Leaving these two friends then at Paris, to talk, amid their lives of many dissipations, of plots and schemes and ambitions, let us betake ourselves to a very distant spot, at the extreme verge of the Continent, — a little inlet on the Calabrian coast below Reggio; where, on a small promon- tory separating two narrow bays, stands the lone castle of Montanara. It had been originally a convent, as its vast size indicates, but was purchased and converted into a royal residence by a former king of Naples, who spent incredible 372 TONY BUTLER. sums on the buildings and the gardens. The latter, espe- cially, were most costly, since they were entirely artificial, — the earth having been carried from the vicinity of Naples. The castle itself was the most incongruous mass that could be conceived, embracing the fortress, the convent, the ornate style of Venice, and the luxurious vastness of an Oriental palace, all within its walls. It may be ima- gined that no private fortune, however ample, could have kept in perfect order a place of such immense size, the gar- dens alone requiring above thirty men constantly at work, and the repairs of the sea-wall being a labor that never ended. The present occupant, Sir Omerod Butler, lived in one small block called the "Molo," which projected into the sea at the very end of the promontory, and was approach- able on the land side by a beautiful avenue of cedars. They were of great age, and, tradition said, had been brought from Lebanon. If ruin and neglect and desolation charac- terized all around, no sooner had the traveller entered this shady approach than all changed to the most perfect care and culture, — flowery shrubs of every kind, beds of gor- geous flowers, percjolati of vines leading down to the sea, and orange groves dipping their golden balls in the blue Mediterranean at every step, till the ample gate was reached ; passing into which you entered a spacious court paved with variegated marble, with a massive fountain in the centre. From this court, under a pillared archwa^^ led off all the lower rooms, -r- great spacious chambers, with richly painted ceilings and tessellated floors. Into these was gathered the most costly furniture of the whole palace ; tables and consoles of malachite and porphyry, gorgeously inlaid slabs of loins lazuli and agate, cabinets of rare beauty, and objects of ancient art. Passing through these again, you gained the rooms of daily habitation, arranged with all the taste and luxury of modern refinement, and distinctively marking that the cold splendor without could not attain to that sense of comfort and voluptuous ease which an age of greater indulgence requires. The outer gate of the castle, which opened by a draw- THE MAJOR'S MISSION. 373 bridge over a deep moat, on the Reggio road, was little less than a mile off; and it may give some idea of the vast size of the place to state that, from that entrance to the Molo, there was a succession of buildings of one kind or other, only interrupted by areas of courtyard or garden. When, at the close of a sultry day. Major M'Caskey presented himself at this gate, summoning the porter with a vigorous pull of the bell, he was not admitted till a very careful scrutiny showed that he was alone, and did not, besides, exhibit anything very formidable in his appearance. He was told, as he passed in, that he must leave his horse at the stables beside the gate, and make the rest of his vray on foot. The Major was both tired and hungry; he had been in the saddle since daybreak, had twice missed his way, and tasted no food since he set out. " Is there much more of this confounded way to go ? " asked he of his guide, as they now mounted a terrace, only to descend again. "About a quarter of an hour will bring you to the Molo," said the other, just as ill-pleased to have the duty of escort- ing him. A quick glance at the fellow's face showed the Major how hopeless it would be to expect any information from him; and though he was burning to know who inhab- ited this lonesome place, and why he lived there, he forebore all questioning, and went along in silence. "There!" said his guide, at last, as they reached a great archway standing alone in a sort of lawn, — "there! you follow that road to the little gate yonder, pass in, cross the garden, and you will be at the side entrance of the ]Molo. I don't suppose you want to enter by the grand gate? " Major M'Caskey was not much in the habit of suffering an insolence to pass unresented ; but he seemed to control himself as he drew forth his purse and took out a crown piece. "This is for your trouble, my worthy fellow," said he; "go and look for it yonder;" and he jerked the piece of money over the low parapet, and sent it skimming along the sea a hundred yards off. Though the man's lips murmured in passion, and his dark eyes flashed anaer, one look at the face of his com- panion assured him that the safer policy was to restrain his 374 TONY BUTLER. wrath, and, touching his hat in salute, he retired without a word. As though he felt in better temper with himself for having thus discharged this little debt, the Major stepped more briskly forward, gained the small postern, and entered a large and formal garden, the chief avenue of which showed him the gate at the extremity. It lay open, and he found himself in a large vaulted hall, from which doors led off. In doubt which course to take, he turned to seek for a bell, but there was none to be found ; and after a careful search on every side, he determined to announce himself by a stout knocking at one of the doors before him. The hollow clamor resounded through the whole building, and soon brought down two men in faded livery, half terri- fied, half angry at the summons. M'Caskey, at once assuming the upper hand, a habit in which practice had made him proficient, demanded haugh- tily to see "the Count," their master. "He is at dinner," said they both together. "I wish I were so too," said the Major. "Go in and tell him that I am the bearer of a royal despatch, and desire to see him immediately." They held counsel together in whispers for a few minutes, during which the name Maria occurred frequently between them. "We will tell the Signora Maria you are here," said one, at last. "And who may she be?" said M'Caskey, haughtily. " She is the Cameriera of the Countess, and the chief of all the household." "My business is not with a waiting-woman. I have come to see the Count of Amalfi," said the Major, sternly. The men apparently knew their own duties best, and, civilly asking him to follow, they led the way up a small flight of stairs, and after traversing some scantily furnished rooms, showed him into a pretty decorated little chamber, with two windows looking on the sea. Having politely begged him to be seated, they left him. The Major, besides being hungry and jaded, was irritable and angry. Filangieri had told him his mission was one of importance and high trust; in fact, so much so, that it THE MAJOR'S MISSION. 375 could not be confided to one less known than himself. And was this the way they received a royal envoy, sent on such an errand? While he thus fumed and chafed, he heard a door open and close, and shortly after the sweep of a woman's dress coming along the corridor; and now the step came nearer, and the door opened, and a tall, sickly- looking woman entered ; but scarcely had she advanced one pace within the room, when she uttered a faint scream and fainted. The Major's first care was to turn the key in the lock; his second was to lift up the almost lifeless figure, and place her on a sofa. As he did so, any emotion that his features betrayed was rather of displeasure than astonishment; and in the impatient way he jerked open the window to let the fresh air blow on her, there was far more of auger than surprise. "So, then, you are the Signora Maria, it would seem," were the first words she heard as she rallied from her swoon. "Oh, Miles!" cried she, with an intense agony, "why have you tracked me here? Could you not have let me drag out my few years of life in peace? " It was difficult to guess how these words affected him, or, rather, in how many different ways ; for though at first his e3^es flashed angrily, he soon gave a short jeering sort of laugh, and, throwing himself down into a chair, he crossed his arms on his breast and gazed steadily at her. The look seemed to remind her of b3'gone suffering, for she turned her head away, and then covered her face with her hands. "Signora Maria," said he, slowly, — "unless, indeed, you still desire I should call you Mrs. M'Caskey." "No, no, — Maria," cried she, wildly; "I am but a servant — I toil for my bread ; but better that than — " She stopped, and, after an effort to subdue her emotion, burst into tears and sobbed bitterly. "It matters little to me, madam, what the name. The chain that ties us is just as irrevocable, whatever we choose to call ourselves. As to anything else, I do not suppose you intend to claim me as your husband." 376 TONY BUTLER. "No, no, never," cried she, impetuously. "Nor am I less generous, madam. None shall ever hear from me that you were my wife. The contract was one that brought little credit to either of us." "Nothing but misery and misfortune tome!" said she, bitterly; "nothing else, — nothing else! " "You remind me, madam," said he, in a slow, deliberate voice, as though he were enunciating some long-resolved sentiment, — "you remind me much of Josephine." " Who is Josephine ? " asked she, quickly. "I speak of the Empress Josephine, so you may perceive that I have sought your parallel in high places. She, like you, deemed herself the most unhappy of women, and all because destiny had linked her with a greatness that she could not measure." Though her vacant stare might have assured him either that she did not understand his words, or follow their meaning, never daunted, he went on. "Yes, madam; and, like her husband, yours has had much to bear, — levity, frivolity, and — worse." "What are you here for? Why have you come after me?" cried she, wildly. "I swore to you before, and I swear it again, that I will never go back to you." "Whenever you reduce that pledge to writing, madam, call on me to be your security for its due performance ; be it known to you, therefore, that this meeting was an unex- pected happiness to me." She covered her face, and rocked to and fro like one in the throes of a deep suffering. " I should be a glutton, madam, if I desired a repetition of such scenes as these ; they filled eight years — eight mortal years — of a life not otherwise immemorable." "And what have they done for me?" cried she, roused ahnost to boldness by his taunting manner. "Made you thinner, paler, a trifle more aged, perhaps," said he, scanning her leisurely; "but always what French- men would call a, femme charmante." The mockery seemed more than she could bear, for she sprang to her feet, and, in a voice vibrating with passion, said, "Take care, Miles M'Caskey, — take care; there are THE MAJOR'S MISSION. 377 men here, if they saw me insulted, would throw you over that sea-wall as soon as look at you." '•Ring for your bravos, madam, — summon your eon- dottieri at once," said he, with an impudent laugh; ''they '11 have some warmer work than they bargained for." "Oh, why not leave me in peace? — why not let me have these few years of life without more of shame and misery? " said she, throwing herself on her knees before him. "Permit me to offer you a chair, madam," said he, as he took her hands, and placed her on a seat; ''and let me beg that we talk of something else. Who is the Count? — ' The Ouoratissimo e Pregiatissimo Signor Conte, ' " for he read now from the address of a letter he had drawn from his pocket, — " ' Signor Conte d'Amalfi,' — is that the name of the owner of this place? " "No; it is the Chevalier Butler, formerly minister at Naples, lives here, — Sir Omerod Bramston Butler." "Ah, then, I perceive it is realh^ meant for another per- son! I thought it was a mode of addressing him secretly. The Count of Amalfi lives here, perhaps?" "I never heard of him." "Who lives here besides Sir Omerod?" "My Lady, — that is, the Countess; none else." "Who is the Countess? Countess of what, and where?" "She is a Milanese; she was a Brancaleone." "Brancaleone, Brancaleone! there were two of them. One went to Mexico with the Duke of Sommariva, — not his wife." "This is the other; she is married to Sir Omerod." "She must be Virginia Brancaleone," said M'Caskey, trying to remember, — "the same Lord Byron used to rave about." She nodded an assent, and he continued, — "Nini Brancaleone was a toast, I remember, with Wraxall and Trelawney, and the rest of us. She was the ' reason fair ' of many a good glass of claret which Byron gave us, in those days before he became stingy." "You had better keep your memories to yourself in case you meet her," said she, warningly. "Miles M'Caskey, madam, requires very little advice or 378 TONY BUTLER. admonition in a matter that touches tact or good breeding." A sickly smile of more than half-derision curled the woman's lip, but she did not speak. "And now let us come back to this Count of Amalfi: who is he? where is he?" ''I have told you already I do not know." "There was a time, madam, you would have required no second intimation that it was j^our dut}^ to find out." "Ah, I remember those words but too well," cried she, bitterly. "Finding out was my task for many a year." "Well, madam, it was an exercise that might have put a fine edge on your understanding, but, like some other ad- vantages of your station, it slipped by you without profit. I am generous, madam, and I forbear to say more. Tell me of these people here all that you know of them, for they are my more immediate interest at present." " I will tell you everything, on the simple condition that you never speak to me nor of me again. Promise me but this, Miles M'Caske}^, and I swear to j^ou I will conceal nothing that I know of them." "You make hard terms, madam," said he, with a mock courtesy. " It is no small privation to be denied the pleas- ure of 3^our agreeable presence, but I comply." "And this shall be our last meeting? " asked she, with a look of imploring meaning. "Alas, madam, if it must be! " "Take care," cried she, suddenly; "you once by your mockery drove me to — " "Well, madam, your memory will perhaps record what followed. I shot the friend who took up your cause. Do you chance to know of another who would like to imitate his fortune?" "Gracious Heaven! " cried she, in an agony, "has nothing the power to change your cruel nature; or are you to be hard-hearted and merciless to the end?" "I am proud to say, madam, that Miles M'Caskey comes of a house whose motto is ' Semper M'Caskey.' " A scornful curl of her lip seemed to show what respect she felt for the heraldic allusion; but she recovered herself quickly, and said, " I can stay no longer. It is the hour the THE MAJOR'S MISSION. 379 Countess requires me; but I will come back to-morrow, without you would let me buy off this meeting. Yes, Miles, I am in earnest; this misery is too much for me. I have saved a little sum, and I have it by me in gold. You must be more changed than I can believe, or you will be in want of money. You shall have it all, every ducat of it, if you only pledge me your word never to molest me, — never to follow me, — never to recognize me again ! " "Madam," said he, severely, "this menial station you have descended to must have blunted your sense of honor rudely, or you had never dared to make me such a proposal. Let me see you to-morrow, and for the last time." And haughtily waving his hand, he motioned to her to leave; and she turned away, with her hands over her face, and quitted the room. CHAPTER XL. THE MAJOR S TRIALS. Major Miles M'Caskey 'is not a foreground figure in this our story, nor have we any reason to suppose that he pos- sesses any attractions for our readers. When such men — and there are such to be found on life 's highway — ai-e met with, the world usually gives them what sailors call a " wide berth and ample room to swing in," sincerely trusting that they will soon trip their anchor and sail off again. Seeing all this, I have no pretension, nor indeed any wish, to impose his company any more than is strictly indispensable, nor dwell on his sojourn at the Molo of Montanara. Indeed, his life at that place was so monotonous and weary to him- self, it would be a needless cruelty to chronicle it. The Major, as we have once passingly seen, kept a sort of brief journal of his daily doings ; and a few short extracts from this will tell us all that we need know of him. On a page of which the upper portion was torn away, we find the following : — " Arrived at M on the 6th at sunset. Ruined old rookery. Open at land side, and sea defences all carried away ; never could have been strongs against artillery. Found Mrs. INI'C. in the style of waiting-woman to a Countess Butler, formerly Nini Brancaleone. A warm interview ; difficult to persuade her that I was not in pursuit of herself, — a feminine delusion I tried to dissipate. She" — hence- forth it is thus he always designates ^Irs. ]\rCaskey — " she avers that she knows nothing of the Count d' Amalfi, nor has ever seen him. Went into a long story about Sir Omerod Butler, of whom I know more myself. She pretends that Xini is married to him — leo^ally married ; don't believe a word of it. Have my own suspi- cions that the title of Amalfi has been conferred on B. himself, for he lives estranged from England and Englishmen. Will learn all, how- ever, before I leave. THE MAJOR'S TRIALS. 381 "Roast pigeons, with tomato, a strange fish, and omelette, with Capri to wash it down ; a meagre supper, but they say it shall be better to-morrow. " llh, Wednesday. — Slept soundly and had a swim ; took a sea view of the place, but could see no one about. Capital breakfast ' Frutli di luare ' boiled in Rhine wine ; fellow who waited said a favorite dish of his Excellency's, meaning Sir. O. B. Best chocolate I ever tasted out of Paris. Found the ynenu for dinner on the treble all right ; the wine is au choix, and I begin with La Rose and La Veuve Cliquot. A note from her referring to something said last night ; she is ill and cannot see me, but encloses an order on Parodi of Genoa, in favor of the nobile Signor il jNIaggiore M'Caskey. for three thousand seven hundred and forty-eight francs, and a small tortoise-shell box, containing eighty-six double ducats in gold, so that it would seem I have fallen into a ' vral Cali/ornie ' here. Reflected, and replied with a refusal ; a M'Caskey cannot stoop to this. Re- proved her for ignoring the character to whom she addressed such a proposal, and reiterated my remark of last night, that she never rose to the level at which she could rightly take in the native chivalry of my nature. " Inquired if my presence had been announced to Sir O., and learned it had. Orders given to treat me with distinguished con- sideration, but nothing said of an audience. " Pigeons again for supper, with apology ; quails had been sent for to Messina, and expected to- morrow. Shot at a champagne-flask in the sea, and smoked. Sir O.'s tobacco exquisite, and the supply so ample, I am making a petite provision for the future. " Full moon. Shot at the camellias out of my window. Knocked off seventeen, when T heard a sharp cry, — a stray shot, I suppose. Shut the casement and went to bed. " Thursda?/. — Gardener's boy — flesh wound in the calf of the leg ; hope Sir O. may hear of it and send for me. " A glorious capon for dinner, stuffed with oysters, — veritable oysters. Drank j\Irs, M'C.'s health in the impression that this was a polite attention on her part. No message from Sir O. ^'■Friday. — A general fast; a lentil soup and a fish; good but meas, that 's it. Just send some one to show me the way, and I '11 be back immediately. I suspect my unlucky break- fast must be prorogued to luncheon-time." "Not a bit of it! " cried a fine, fresh-looking, handsome THE MESSENGER'S FIRST JOURNEY. 415 man, who entered the room with a riding-whip in his hand; "come in and take share of mine." "He has to go over to Feder's for the bags, Sir Joseph," whispered the attache, submissively. "Send the porter, — send Jasper, — send any one you like. Come along," said he, drawing his arm within Tony's. "You 've not been in Italy before, and your first impression ought to be favorable; so I '11 introduce you to a Mont Cenis trout." "And I '11 profit by the acquaintance," said Tony. "I have the appetite of a wolf." CHAPTER XLY. A SHOCK FOR TONY. If Tony Butler took no note of time as he sat at breakfast with Sir Joseph, he was only sharing the fortune of every man who ever found himself in that companionship. From one end of Europe to the other his equal could not be found. It was not alone that he had stores of conversation for the highest capacities and the most cultivated minds, but he possessed that thorough knowledge of life so interesting to men of the world, and with it that insight into character which is so often the key to the mystery of statecraft; and with all these he had a geniality and a winning, grace of look, voice, and demeanor that sent one from his presence with the thought that if the world could but compass a few more like him, one would not change the planet for the brightest in the firmament. Breakfast over, the}' smoked; then they had a game at billiards ; after that they strolled into the garden, and had some pistol -firing. Here Ton}^ acquitted himself creditably, and rose in his host's esteem; for the minister liked a man who could do an^'thing — no matter what — very well. Tony, too, gained on him. His own fine jo3'ous nature understood at once the high-hearted spirit of a young fellow who had no affectations about him, thoroughly at his ease without presumption; and yet, through that gentleman element so strong in him, never transgressing the limits of a freedom so handsomely' accorded him. While the hours rolled over thus delightfully, a messenger returned to say that he had been at each of the great hotels, but could find no trace of Colonel Chamberlayne, nor of the missing bags. "Send Moorcap," said the minister. A SHOCK FOR TONY. 417 Moorcap was away two hours, and came back with the same story. "I suspect how it is," said Tony. "Chamberlayne has been obliged to start suddenly, and has carried off my bags with his own; but when he discovers his mistake, he '11 drop them at Naples." Sir Joseph smiled, — perhaps he did not think the expla- nation very satisfactory ; and perhaps, — who knows? — but he thought that the loss of a despatch-bag was not amongst the heaviest of human calamities. " At all events," he said, " we '11 give you an early dinner, Butler, and 3^ou can start by the late train to Genoa, and catch the morning steamer to Naples." Tony asked no better ; and I am afraid to have to confess that he engaged at a game of " pool" with all the zest of one who carried no weighty care on his breast. When the time for leave-taking came. Sir Joseph shook his hand with cordial warmth, telling him to be sure to dine with him as he came through Turin. " Hang up your hat here, Butler ; and if I should be from home, tell them that you are come to dinner." Ver}^ simple words these. They cost little to him who spoke them, but what a joy and happiness to poor Tony ! Oh, ye gentlemen of high place and station, if you but knew how your slightest words of kindness — your two or three syllables of encouragement — give warmth and glow and vigor to many a poor wayfarer on life's high-road, imparting a sense not alone of hope, but of self-esteem, to a nature too distrustful of itself, mayhap you might be less chary of that which, costing you so little, is wealth unspeakable to him it is bestowed upon. Tony went on his way rejoicing ; he left that threshold, as many others had left it, thinking far better of the world and its people, and without knowing it, very proud of the notice of one whose favor he felt to be fame. "Ah," thought he, " if Alice had but heard how that great man spoke to me, — if Alice only saw how familiarly he treated me, — it might show her, perhaps, that others at least can see in me some qualities not altogether hopeless." If, now and then, some thought of that "unlucky bag" — so he called it to himself — would invade, he dismissed it 27 418 TONY BUTLER. speedily, with the assurance that it had already safely reached its destination, and that the Colonel and Skeffy had doubtless indulged in many a hearty laugh over his embar- rassment at its loss. " If they knew but all," muttered he; " I take it very coolly. I 'm not breaking my heart over the disaster." And so far he was right, — not, however, from the philosophical indifference that he imagined, but simply because he never believed in the calamity, nor had realized it to himself. When he landed at Naples, he drove off at once to the lodgings of his friend Damer, which, though at a consider- able height from the ground, in a house of the St. Lucia Quarter, he found were dignified with the title of British Legation ; a written notice on the door informed all the readers that " H. B. M.'s Charge d' Affaires transacted busi- ness from twelve to four every day." It was two o'clock when Tony arrived, and, notwithstanding the aforesaid announcement, he had to ring three times before the door was opened. At length a sleepy-looking valet appeared to Bay that "His Excellency" — he styled him so — was in his bath, and could not be seen in less than an hour. Ton^ sent in his name, and speedily received for answer that he would find a letter addressed to him in the rack over the chimney, and Mr. Damer would be dressed and with him by the time he had read it. Poor Tony's eyes swam with tears as he saw his mother's handwriting, and he tore open the sheet with hot impatience. It was very short, as were all her letters, and so we give it entire : — " My own darling Tony, — Your beautiful present reached me yesterday, and what shall I say to my poor reckless boy for such an act of extraA'agance ? Surely, Tony, it was made for a queen, and not for a poor widow that sits the day long mending her stock- ings at the window. But ain't I proud of it, and of him that sent it ! Heaven knows what it has cost you, my dear boy, for even the carriage here from London, by the Royal Parcel Company, Limited, came to thirty-two and fourpence. Why they call themselves * Limited ' after that, is clean beyond my comprehension. [If Tony smiled here, it was with a hot and flushed cheek, for he had for- gotten to prepay the whole carriage, and he was vexed at his thoughtlessness.] A SHOCK FOR TONY. 419 " As to my wearing it going to meeting, as you say, it 's quite impossible. The thought of its getting wet would be a snare to take my mind off the blessed words of the minister ; and I 'm not sure, my dear Tony, that any congregation could sit profitably within sight of what — not knowing the love that sent it — would seem like a temptation and a vanity before men. Sables, indeed, real Kussian sables, appear a strange covering for these old shoulders. ♦• It was about two hours after it came that Mrs. Trafford called in to see me, and Jeanie would have it that I 'd go into the room wiih my grand new cloak on me ; and sure enough I did, Tony, trying all the while not to seem as if it was anything strange or uncommon, but just the sort of wrapper I 'd tlirow round me of a cold morning. But it would n't do, my dear Tony. I was half afraid to sit down on it, and I kept turning out the purple-satin lining so often that Mrs. Trafford said at last, ' Will you forgive my admiration of your cloak, Mrs. Butler, but I never saw one so beautiful before ; ' and then I told her who it was that sent it ; and she got very red and then very pale, and then walked to the window, and said something about a shower that was threatening; though, sooth to say, Tony, the only threat of rain I could see was in her own blue eyes. But she turned about gayly and said, ' We are going away, Mrs. Butler, — going abroad ; ' and before I could ask why or where, she told me in a hurried sort of way that her sister Isabella had been ordered to pass a winter in some warm climate, and that they were going to try Italy. She said it all in a strange quick voice, as if she did n't like to talk of it, and wanted it over; but she grew quite herself again when she said that the gardener would take care that my flowers came regularly, and that Sir Arthur and Lady Lyle would be more than gratified if I would send up for anything I liked out of the garden. ' Don't forget that the melons were all of Tony's sow- ing, Mrs. Butler,' said she, smiling ; and I could have kissed her for the way she said it. " There were many other kind things she said, and in a way, too, that made them more than kind ; so that when she went away, I sat thinking if it was not a temptation to meet a nature like hers, — so sweet, so lovely, and yet so worldly ; for in all she spoke, Tony, there was never a word dropped of what sinful creatures we are, and what a thorny path it is that leads us to the better life before us. " I was full of her visit, and everything she said, when Dr. Stewart dropped in to say that they had been down again at the Burnside to try and get him to let Dolly go abroad with them. 'I never liked the notion, Mrs. Butler,' he said ; ' but I was swayed here and swayed there by my thoughts for the lass, what was best for her body's health, and that other health that is of far more value ; when there 420 TONY BUTLEK. came a letter to me, — it was anonymous, — saving', "Before you suffer your good and virtuous daughter to go away to a foreign land, just ask the lady that is to protect her if she still keeps up the habit of moonlight walks in a garden with a gentleman for her companion, and if that be the sort of teaching she means to inculcate." Mrs. Trafford came to the door as I was reading the letter, and I said, "What can you make of such a letter as this?" and as she read it her cheek grew purple, and she said, " There is an end of our pro- posal. Dr. Stewart. Tell your daughter I shall importune her no more; but this letter I mean to keep : it is in a hand I know well." And she went back to the carriage without another word ; and to- morrow they leave the Abbey, some say not to come back again.' " I cried the night through after the doctor went away, for what a world it is of sin and misery ; not that I will believe wrong of her, sweet and beautiful as she is, but what for was she angry ? and why did she show that this letter could give her such pain ? And now, my dear Tony, since it could be no other than yourself she walked alone with, is it not your duty to write to the doctor and tell him so? The pure heart fears not the light, neither are the good of con- science afraid. That she is above your hope is no reason that she is above your love. That I was your father's wife may show that ! Above all, Tony, think that a Gospel minister should not harbor an evil thought of one who does not deserve it, and whose mightiest sin is perchance the pride that scorns a self-defence. " The poor doctor is greatly afflicted : he is sorry now that he showed the letter, and Dolly cries over it night and day. " Is it not a strange thing that Captain Graham's daughters, that never were used to come here, are calling at the Burnside two or three times a week ? " Write to me, my dear Tony, and if you think well of what I said, write to the doctor also, and believe me your ever loving mother, "Eleanor Butler. " Dolly Stewart has recovered her health again, but not her spirits. She rarely comes to see me, but I half suspect that her reason is her dislike to show me the depression that is weighing over her. So is it, dear Tony, go where you will ; there is no heart with- out its weary load, no spirit without that touch of sorrow that should teach submission. Reflect well over this, dear boy ; and never for- p;et that though at times we put off our troubles as a wayfarer lays down his pack, we must just strap on the load again when we take to the road, for it is a burden we have to bear to the journey's end." Not all the moral reflections of this note saved it from be- A SHOCK FOR TONY. 421 ing crushed passionately in his hand as he finished reading it. That walk, that moonlight walk, with whom could it have been? with whom but Maitland? And it was by her — by her that his whole heart was filled, — her image, her voice, her gait, her smile, her faintest whisper, that made up the world in which he lived. Who could love her as he did? Others would have their hopes and ambitions, their dreams of worldly success, and such like ; but he, — he asked none of these ; her heart was all he strove for. With her he would meet any fortune. He knew she was above him in every way, — as much by every gift and grace as by every accident of station; but what did that signify? The ardor of his love glowed only the stronger for the difficulty, — just as his courage would have mounted the higher, the more hazardous the feat that dared it. These were his reason- ings, — or rather some shadowy shapes of these flitted through his mind. And was it now all over ? Was the star that had guided him so long to be eclipsed from him ? Was he never again to ask himself in a moment of difficulty or doubt, What will Alice say ? — what will Alice think ? As for the scandalous tongues that dared to asperse her, he scorned them ; and he was indignant with the old minister for not making that ver}^ letter itself the reason of acceptmg a proposal he had been until then averse to. He should have said, '•^Noir there can be no hesitation, — Dolly must go with you now.*' It was just as his musings got thus far that Skeffy rushed into the room and seized him by both hands. "Ain't I glad to see your great sulky face again? Sit down and tell me everything — how you came — when — — how long you 're to stay — and what brought you here." " I came with despatches, — that is, 1 ought to have had them." '' AVhat do you mean ? " *'I m.ean that some of the bags I left at Turin; and one small fellow, which I take to have been the cream of the correspondence, Chamberlayne carried on here, — at least I hope so. Have n't you got it ? " "What infernal muddle are your brains in? Who is Chamberlayne ? " 422 TONY BUTLER. *'Come, come, Skeffy, I'm not in a joking mood; " and he glanced at the letter in his hand as he spoke. " Don't worry me, old fellow, but say that you have got the bag all right." " But I have not, I never saw it, — never heard of it.** " And has the Colonel not been here?" "Who is the Colonel?" *' Chamberlayne." *' And who is Chamberlayne." "That is cool, certainly; I think a man might acknowl- edge his godfather." " Whose godfather is he? " *' Yours, — your own. Perhaps you '11 deny that you were christened after him, and called Chamberlayue? " Skeffy threw up his embroidered cap in the air at these words, and, flinging himself on a sofa, actually screamed with laughter. " Tony," cried he at last, "this will immortalize you. Of all the exploits performed by messengers, this one takes the van." " Look here, Damer," said Tony, sternly; "I have told you already I 'm in no laughing humor. I 've had enough here to take the jollity out of me " — and he shook tlie letter in his hand — " for many a day to come; so that whatever 3^ou have to say to me, bear in mind that you say it to one little disposed to good-humor. Is it true that you have not received these despatches?" " Perfectly true." "Then how are we to trace him? His name is Colonel Moore Chamberlayne, aide-de-camp to the Lord High Com- missioner, Corfu." Skeffy bit his lip, and by a great effort succeeded in re- pressing the rising temptation to another scream of laughter, and, taking down a bulky red-covered volume from a shelf, began to turn over its pages. " There," said he at last, — ■ "there is the Whole staff at Corfu: Hailes, Winchester, Corbett, and Ainslie. No Chamberlayne amongst them." Tony stared at the page in hopeless bewilderment. " AYhat do 3'ou know of him? Who introduced you to each other? Where did you meet? " asked Skeffy. "We met at the foot of the Mont Cenis, where, seeing A SHOCK FOR TONY. 423 that I had despatches, and no means to get forward, he offered me a seat in his caliche. I accepted gladly, and we got on capitally ; he was immense fun ; he knew everybody, and had been everywhere ; and when he told me that he was your godfather — " "Stop, stop! for the love of Heaven, will you stop, or you '11 kill me ! " cried Skeffy ; and, throwing himself on his back on the sofa, he flung his legs into the air, and yelled aloud with laughter. "Do 3'ou know. Master Damer, I'm sorely tempted to pitch you neck and crop out of the window?" said Tony, savagely. "Do so, do so, by all means, if you like; only let me have my laugh out, or I shall burst a blood-vessel." Tony made no reply, but walked up and down the room with his brow bent and his arms folded. "And then?" cried Skeff, — " and then? What came next?" " It is your opinion, then," said Tony, sternly, " that this fellow was a swindler, and not on the Staff at all? " *'No more than he was my godfather!" cried Damer, wiping his eyes. " And that the whole was a planned scheme to get hold of the despatches ? " " Of course. Filangieri knows well that we are wait- ing for important instructions here. There is not a man calls here who is not duly reported to him by his secret police." " And why did n't Sir Joseph think of that when I told him what had happened ? All he said was, ' Be of good cheer, Butler ; the world will go round even after the loss of a despatch-bag.' " " So like him," said Skeffy; "the levity of that man is the ruin of him. They all say so at the OMice." "I don't know what they say at the Office; but I can declare that so perfect a gentleman and so fine a fellow I never met before." Skeffy turned to the glass over the chimney, smoothed his moustaches, and pointed their tips most artistically, smiling gracefully at himself, and seeming to say, " You and I, if we 424 TONY BUTLER. were not too modest, could tell of some one fully his equal." " And what 's to be done, — what's to come of this?" asked Tony, after a short silence. " I '11 have to report you. Master Tony. I '11 have to write home : ' My Lord, — The messenger Butler arrived here this morning to say that he confided your Lordship's despatches and private instructions to a most agreeable gentleman, whose acquaintance he made at St. Jean de Maurienne ; and that the fascinating stranger, having apparently not mastered their contents up to the present — '" "Go to the — " " No, Tony, I shall not; but I think it not at all improb- able that such will be the destination his Lordship will assign assistant-messenger Butler. The fact is, my boy, your career in our department is ended." "With all my heart! Except for that fine fellow I saw at Turin, I think I never met such a set of narrow-minded snobs." " Tony, Tony," said the other, " when Moses, in the ' Vicar of Wakefield,' — and I take it he is more familiar to you than the other of that name, — was ' done ' by the speculator in green spectacles, he never inveighed against those who had unfortunately confided their interests to his charge. Now, as to our department — " " Confound the department ! I wish I had never heard of it. You say it 's all up with me, and of course I suppose it is ; and, to tell you the truth, Skeffy, I don't think it signifies a great deal just now, except for that poor mother of mine." Here he turned away, and wiped his eyes hurriedly. " I take it that all mothers make the same sort of blunder, and never will believe that they can have a blockhead for a son till the world has set its seal on him." "Take a weed, and listen to me," said Skeffy, dictatori- ally, and he threw his cigar-case across the table, as he spoke. " You have contrived to make as bad a dehiit in your career as is well possible to conceive." " What's the use of telling me that? In your confounded passion for hearing yourself talk, you forget that it is not so pleasant for me to listen." A SHOCK FOR TONY. 425 "Prisoner at the bar," continued Skeffy, "you liave been convicted — you stand, indeed, self-convicted — of an act wiiich, as we regard it, is one of gross ignorance, of in- credible folly, or of inconceivable stupidity, — places you in a position to excite the pity of compassionate men, the scorn of those severer moralists who accept not tiie exten- uating circumstances of youth, unacquaintance with life, and a credulity that approaches childlike — " " You 're a confounded fool, Skeffy, to go on in this fashion when a fellow is in such a fix as I am, not to speak of other things that are harder to bear. It 's a mere toss-up whether he laughs at your nonsense or pitches you over the banisters. I "ve been within an ace of one and the other three times in the last five minutes ; and now all my leaning is towards the last of the two." " Don't yield to it, then, Tony. Don't, I warn you." "And why?" "Because you'd never forgive yourself, not alone for having injured a true and faithful friend, but for the far higher and more irreparable loss in having cut short the career of a man destined to be a light to Europe. I say it in no vanit}^, — no boastf uluess. No, on ray honor ! if I could — if the choice were fairly given to me, I 'd rather not be a man of mark and eminence. I 'd rather be a com- monplace, tenth-rate sort of dog like yourself." The unaffected honesty with which he said this did for Tony what no cajolery nor flattery could have accom- plished, and set him off into a roar of laughter that con- quered all his spleen and ill-humor. "Y^our laugh, like the laugh of the foolish, is ill-timed. You cannot see that you were introduced, not to be stigma- tized, but to point a moral. Y^ou fancy yourself a creature, — you are a category ; you imagine 3'ou are an individuality, — you are not ; you are a fragment rent from a primeval rock." " I believe I ought to be as insensible as a stone to stand you. But stop all this, I say, and listen to me. I 'm not much up to writing, — but you '11 help me, I know ; and what I want said is simply this : ' I have been tricked out of one of the bags by a rascal that if ever I lay hands on I '11 426 TONY BUTLER. bring bodily before the Office at home, and make him con- fess the whole scheme ; and I '11 either break his neck after- wards, or leave him to the law, as the Secretary of State may desire.' " Now, poor Tony delivered this with a tone and manner that implied he thought he was dictating a very telling and able despatch. " I suppose," added he, "I am to say that I now resign my post, and I wish the devil had me when I accepted it." " Not civil, certainly, to the man who gave you the ap- pointment, Tony. Besides, when a man resigns, he has to wait for the acceptance of his resignation." "Oh, as for that, there need be no ceremony. They'll be even better pleased to get rid of me than I to go. They got a bad bargain; and, to do them justice, they seemed to have guessed as much from the first." "And then, Tony?" " I '11 go to sea, — I '11 go before the mast ; there must be many a vessel here wants a hand, and in a few weeks' prac- tice I '11 master the whole thing ; my old 3'achting experi- ences have done that for me." " My poor Tony,"' said Skeffy, rising and throwing his arms round him, "I'll not listen to it. What! when j^ou have a home here with me, are you to go off and brave hard- ship and misery and degradation ? " " There 's not one of the three, — I deny it. Coarse food and hard work are no misery ; and I '11 be hanged if there 's any degradation in earning one's bread with his hands when his head is not equal to it." " I tell you I '11 not suffer it. If you drive me to it, I '11 prevent it by force. I am her Majest3^'s Charge d'Affaires. I '11 order the consul to enroll 3'ou at his peril, — I '11 imprison the captain that takes }'ou, — I'll detain the ship, and put the crew in irons." " Before you do lialf of it. let me have some dinner," said Tony, laughing, " for I came on shore ver^' hungry-, and have eaten nothing since." " I '11 take you to my favorite restaurant, and you shall have a regular Neapolitan banquet, washed down b}^ some old Capri. There, spell out that newspaper till I dress : A SHOCK FOR TONY. 427 and if any one rings in the mean while, say his Excellency has just been sent for to Caserta by the King, and will not be back before to-morrow." As he reached the door he put his head in again, and said, ^' Unless, perchance, it should be my godfather, when, of course, you '11 keep him for dinner." CHAPTER XLVI. *'the bag no. 18." Almost overlooking the terraced garden where Darner and Tony dined, and where they sat smoking till a late hour of the uight, stood a large palace, whose vast proportions and spacious entrance, as well as an emblazoned shield over the door, proclaimed it to belong to the Government. It was the Ministry of Foreign Affairs ; and here, now, in a room projecting over the street beneath, and supported on arches, sat the Minister himself, with our two acquaintances, Mait- land and Caffarelli. Maitland was still an invalid, and rested on a sofa, but he had recovered much of his former looks and manner, though he was dressed with less care than was his wont. The Minister — a very tall thin man, stooped in the shoulders, and with a quantity of almost white graj^ hair streaming on his neck and shoulders — walked continually up and down the room, commenting and questioning at times, as Maitland read forth from a mass of documents which littered the table, and with which Caffarelli supplied him, breaking the seals and tearing open the envelopes before he gave them to his hand. Though Maitland read with ease, there was yet that half- hesitation in the choice of a word, as he went on, that showed he was translating ; and indeed once or twice the Prince- Minister stopped to ask if he had rightly imparted all the intended force to a particular expression. A white canvas bag, marked " F. O., No. 18," lay on the table ; and it was of that same bag and its possible fortunes two others, not fully one hundred yards off, were then talk- ing ; so is it that in life we are often so near to, and so re- "THE BAG NO. 18." 429 mote from, the inanimate object around which our thoughts and hopes, and sometimes our very destinies, revolve. "I am afraid," said the Prince, at last, "that we have got nothing here but the formal despatches, of which Ludolf has sent us copies already. Are there no ' Private and Con- fidentials'?" "Yes, here is one for Sir Joseph Trevor himself," said Caffarelli, handing a square-shaped letter to Maitland. Maitland glanced hurriedly over it, and muttered : " London gossip, Craddock's divorce case, the partridge-shooting, — ah, here it is ! 'I suppose you are right about the expedi- tion, but say nothing of it in the despatches. We shall be called on one of these days for a blue-book, and very blue we should look, if it were seen that amidst our wise counsels to Caraffa we were secretly aware of what G. was preparing.' " *' It must be ' C. was preparing,' " broke in Caraffa ; " it means Cavour." ''No; he speaks of Garibaldi," said Maitland. " Garibaldi !" cried Caraffa, laughing. "And are there stiW gobemouches in England who believe in the Filibuster?" "I believe in him, for one," said Maitland, fiercely, for the phrase irritated him; "and I say, too, that such a Filibuster on our side would be worth thirty thousand of those great hulking grenadiers you passed in review this morning." " Don't tell the King so when you wait on him to-morrow, that 's all ! " said the Minister, with a sneering smile. "Read on," broke in Caffarelli, who was not at all sure what the discussion might lead to. "Perhaps, too, you would class Count Cavour amongst these gobemouches^'* said Maitland, angrily ; " for he is also u believer in Garibaldi." "We can resume this conversation at Caserta to-morrow before his Majesty," said Caraffa, with the same mocking smile; "pray, now, let me hear the remainder of that despatch." " ' It is not easy to say,' " read he aloud from the letter, " * what France intends or wishes. C. says — ' " "Who is C?" asked Caraffa, hastily. '* C. means Cowley, probably, — ' that the Emperor would 430 TONY BUTLER. not willingly see Piedmontese troops at Naples ; nor is be prepared to witness a new map of the Peninsula. We, of course, will do nothing either way — ' " "Read that again," broke in Caraffa. *' 'We, of course, will do nothing either way; but that resolve is not to prevent your tendering counsel with a high hand, all the more since the events which the next few months will develop will all of them seem of our provoking, and part and parcel of a matured and long meditated policy.' " '■'' Benissimo!'' cried the minister, rubbing his hands in delight. "If we reform, it is the Whigs have reformed us. If we fall, it is the Whigs have crushed us." " ' Caraffa, we are told,' " continued Maitland, " ' sees the danger, but is outvoted by the Queen-Dowager's party in the Cabinet, — not to say that, from his great intimacy with Pietri, many think him more of a Muratist than a Bourbon. ' " "Per Bacco ! when your countryman tries to be acute, there is nothing too hazardous for his imagination; so, then, I am a French spy ! " "' What you say of the army,' " read on Maitland, " ' is confirmed by our other reports. Very few of the line regi- ments will be faithful to the monarchy, and even some of the artillery will go over. As to the fleet, Martin tells me they have not three seaworthy ships in the fifty-seven they reckon, nor six captains who would undertake a longer voyage than Palermo. Their only three-decker was afraid to return a salute to the "Pasha," lest her old thirty-two- poundevs should explode; and this is pretty much the case with the monarchy, — the first shock must shake it, even though it only come of blank cartridge. " ' While events are preparing, renew all your remon- strances; press upon Caraffa the number of untried prison- ers, and the horrid condition of the prisons. Ask, of course in a friendly way, when are these abuses to cease? Say that great hopes of amelioration — speak generally — were con- ceived here on the accession of the new King, and throw in our regrets that the liberty of the press with us will occa- sionally lead to strictures whose severities we deplore, with- "THE BAG NO. 18." ' 431 out being able to arraign their justice; and lastly, declare our readiness to meet any commercial exchanges that might promise mutual advantage. This will suggest the belief that we are not in any way cognizant of Cavour's projects. In fact, I will know nothing of them, and hold myself pre- pared, if questioned in the House, to have had no other information than is supplied by the newspapers. Who is Maitland? None of the Maitlands here can tell me.'" This sentence he read out ere he knew it, and almost crushed the paper when he had finished in his passion. "Go on," said Caraffa, as the other ceased to read aloud, while his eyes ran over the lines, — "go on." "It is of no moment, or, at least, its interest is purely personal. His Lordship recommends that I should be bought over, but still left in intimate relations with your Excellency." "And I see no possible objection to the plan." "Don't you, sir?" cried Maitland, fiercely; "then I do. Some little honor is certainly needed to leaven the rottenness that reeks around us." ^'' Caro Signor Conte^"" said the Prince, in an insinuating voice, but of which insincerity was the strong characteristic, "do not be angry with my Ultramontane morality. I was not reared on the virtuous benches of a British Parliament; but if there is anything more in that letter, let me hear it." "There is only a warning not to see the Count of Syra- cuse, nor any of his party, who are evidently waiting to see which horse is to win. Ah, and here is a word for your address. Carlo! ' If Caffarelli be the man we saw last season here, I should say. Do not make advances to him; he is a ruined gambler, and trusted by no party. Lady C believes in him, but none else!'" This last paragraph set them all a-laughing, nor did any seem to enjoy it more than Caffarelli himself. "One thing is clear," said Caraffa, at last, — "England wishes us every imaginable calamity, but is not going to charge herself with any part of the cost of our ruin. France has only so much of good-will towards us as is inspired by her dislike of Piedmont, and she will wait and watch events. Now, if Bosco be only true to his word, and can give us a 432 TONY BUTLER. 'good account' of his treatment of Garibaldi, I think all will go well." *'When was Garibaldi to set out ?" asked Caffarelli. "Brizzi, but he is seldom correct, said the 18th." "That Irish fellow of ours, Maitlaod, is positive it will be by the loth at latest. By the way, when I asked him how I could reward this last piece of service he rendered us in securing these despatches, his reply was, ' I want the cordon of St. Januarius.' I, of course, remonstrated, and explained that there were certain requisites as to birth and family, certain guarantees as to nobility of blood, certain requirements of fortune. He stopped me abruptl}^, and said, ' I can satisfy them allj and if there be any delay in according my demand, I shall make it in person to his Majesty.' " "Well," cried Caffarelli, — "well, and what followed? " "I yielded," said the Prince, with one of his peculiar smiles. "We are in such a perilous predicament that we can't afford the enmity of such a consummate rascal; and then, who knows but he may be the last knight of the order ! " In the deep depression of the last words was apparent their true sincerity, but he rallied hastil}-, and said, "I have sent the fellow to Bosco with despatches, and said that he may be usefully employed as a spy, for he is hand-and-glove with all the Garibaldians. Surely he must have uncommon good luck if he escapes a bullet from one side or the other." "He told me yesterday'," said Caffarelli, "that he would not leave Naples till his Majesty passed the Irish Legion in review, and addressed them some words of loyal compliment." "Why didn't he tell you," said the Prince, sarcastically, "that seventy of the scoundrels have taken service with Garibaldi, some hundreds have gone to the hills as brig- ands, and Castel d'Ovo has got the remainder; and it takes fifteen hundred foot and a brigade of artillery to watch them ? " "Did j'ou hear this, Maitland?" cried Caffarelli; "do you hear what his Excellency says of your pleasant countrymen ? " "THE BAG NO. 18." 433 Maitland looked up from a letter that he was deeply en- gaged in, and so blank and vacant was his stare that Caffarelli repeated what the Minister had just said. "I don't think you are minding what I say. Have you heard me, Maitland? " "Yes; no — that is, my thoughts were on something that I was reading here." "Is it of interest to us?" asked Caraffa. "None whatever. It was a private letter which got into my hands open, and I had read some lines before I was well aware. It has no bearing on politics, however;" and, crushing up the note, he placed it in his pocket, and then, as if recalling his mind to the affairs before him, said: "The King himself must go to Sicily. It is no time to palter. The personal daring of Victor Emmanuel is the bone and sinew of the Piedmontese movement. Let us show the North that the South is her equal in everything." " I should rather that it was from ijou the advice came than from me," said Caraffa, with a grin. "I am not in the position to proffer it." "If I were Prince Caraffa, I should do so, assuredly." "You would not, Maitland," said the other, calmly. "You would not, and for this simple reason, that you would see that, even if accepted, the counsel would be fruitless. If it were to the Queen, indeed — " "Yes, ^e?- Bacro ! '' broke in Caffarelli, "there is not a gentleman in the kingdom would not spring into the saddle at such a call." "Then why not unfold this standard?" asked Maitland. "\Yhy not make one effort to make the monarchy popular?" "Don't you know enough of Naples," said Caraffa, "to know that the cause of the noble can never be the cause of the people; and that to throw the throne for defence on the men of birth is to lose the ' men of the street ' ? " He paused, and with an expression of intense hate on his face, and a hissing passionate tone in his voice, continued, "It required all the consummate skill of that great man, Count Cavour, to weld the two classes together, and even he could not elevate the populace; so that nothing was left to him but to degrade the noble." 28 434 TONY BUTLER. "I think, meanwhile, we are losing precious time," said Maitland, as he took up his hat. "Bosco should be rein- forced. The squadron, too, should be strengthened to meet the Sardinian fleet; for we have sure intelligence that they mean to cover Garibaldi's landing; Persano avows it." "All the better if they do," said Caraffa. "The same act which would proclaim their own treachery would deliver into our hands this hare-brained adventurer." "Your Excellency may have him longer in your hands than you care for," said Maitland, with a saucy smile. The Prince bowed a cold acknowledgment of the speech, and suffered them to retire without a word. "It is fated, I believe," said Caffarelli, as they gained the street, "that the Prince and you are never to separate without anger; and you are wrong, Maitland. There is no man stands so high in the King's favor." "What care I for that, Carlo mio? the whole thing has ceased to interest me. I joined the cause without any love for it; the more nearly I saw its working, the more I despised myself for acting with such associates; and if I hold to it now, it is because it is so certain to fail. Ay, my friend, it is another Bourbon bowled over. The age had got sick of vested interests, and wanted to show what abuses they were; but you and I are bound to stand fast; we cannot rescue the victim, but we must follow the hearse." "How low and depressed you are to-night! What has come over you ? " "I have had a heav}^ blow, mio Carlo. One of those pr.pers whose envelopes 3^ou broke and handed to me was a private letter. It was from Alice Trafford to her brother; and the sight of my own name in it tempted me to see what she said of me. My curiosity has paid its price." He paused for some minutes, and then continued: "She wrote to refuse the villa I had offered her, — to refuse it peremp- torily. She added: ' The story of your friend's duel is more public than you seem to know. It appeared in the "Patrie '* three weeks ago, and was partl}^ extracted by "Galignani." The provocation given was an open declaration that Mr. Maitland was no Maitland at all, but the illegitimate son of a well-known actress, called Brancaleone, the father "THE BAG NO. 18." 435 unkDOwn. This outrage led to a meeting, and the conse- quences you know of. The whole story has this much of authenticity, that it was given to the world with the name of the other principal, who signs himself Milo M'Caskey, Lieut. -Col. in the service of Naples, Count, and Commander of various orders.' She adds," continued Maitland, in a shaken voice, and an effort, but yet a poor one, to smile, — "she adds: ' I own I am sorry for him. All his great qualities and cultivation seemed to suit and dignify station; but now that I know his condition to have been a mere assumption, the man himself and his talents are only a mockery, — only a mockery!' Hard words these, Carlo, very hard words! "And then she says : ' If I had only known him as a pass- ing acquaintance, and thought of him with the same indiffer- ence one bestows on such, -perhaps I would not now insist so peremptorily as I do on our ceasing to know him; but I will own to you, Mark, that he did interest me greatly. He bad, or seemed to have,' — this, that, and t' other," said he, with an ill-tempered haste, and went on. " ' But now, as he stands before me, with a borrowed name and a mock rank — ' There is half a page more of the same trash ; for this gentle lady is a mistress of tierce words, and not over-merciful, and she ends thus : ' I think, if you are adroit, 3'ou can show him, in declining his proffered civilit}^ that we had strong reasons for our refusal, and that it would be unpleas- ant to renew our former acquaintance.' In fact. Carlo, she means to cut me. This woman, whose hand I had held in mine while I declared my love, and who, while she listened to me, showed no touch of displeasure, affects now to resent the accident of my birth, and treat me as an impostor! I am half sorry that letter has not reached its destination; ay, and, strange as you will think it, I am more than half tempted to write and tell her that I have read it. The story of the stolen despatch will soon be a newspaper scandal, and it would impart marvellous interest to her reading it when she heard that her own ' private and confidential ' was captured in the same net." "You could not own to such an act, INEaitland." "Xo. If it should not lead to something further; but I 436 TONY BUTLER. do yearn to repay her. She is a haughty adversary, and well worth a vengeance." "What becomes of your fine maxim, ' Never quarrel with a woman,' Maitland?" "When I uttered it, I had never loved one," muttered he; and they walked on now in silence. Almost within earshot — so close, indeed, that had they not been conversing in Italian, some of their words must have been overheard by those behind — walked two other friends, Darner and Tony, in close confab. "I must telegraph F. O," said Skeffy, "that bag is miss- ing, and that Messenger Butler has gone home to make his report. Do you hear me ? " A grunt was the reply. "I '11 give you a letter to Howard Pendleton, and he '11 tell what is the best thing to be done." "I suspect I know it already," muttered Tony. "If you could only persuade my Lord to listen to you, and tell him the story as you told it to me, he 'd be more than a Secretary of State if he could stand it." "I have no great desire to be laughed at, Skeffy." "Not if it got you out of a serious scrape, — a scrape that may cost you your appointment?" "Not even at that price." "I can't understand that; it is quite beyond me. They might put me into ' Joe Miller ' to-morrow, if they 'd only gazette me Secretary of Embassy the day after. But here 's the hotel; a good sleep will set you all right; and let me see you at breakfast as jolly as you used to be." CHAPTER XLVn. ADRIFT. The dawn was scarcely breaking as Tony Butler awoke and set off to visit the ships in the port whose flags proclaimed them English. There were full thirty, of various sizes and rigs; but though many were deficient in hands, no skipper seemed disposed to accept a young fellow who, if he was stalwart and well grown, so palpably pertained to a class to which hard work and coarse usage were strangers. "You ain't anything of a cook, are you?" asked one of the very few who did not reject his demand at once. "No," said he, smiling. "Them hands of yours might do something in the caboose, but they ain't much like reefing and clewing topsails. Won't suit me.'' And, thus discouraged, he went on from one craft to the other, surprised and mortified to discover that one of the resources he had often pictured to his mind in the hours of despondency was just as remote, just as much above him, as any of the various callings his friends had set before him. "Not able to be even a sailor! Not fit to serve before the mast! "Well, perhaps I can caiTy a musket; but for that I must return to England." He fell to thinking of this new scheme, but without any of that hope that had so often colored his projects. He owed the service a grudge. His father had not been fairly treated in it. So, at least, from his very childhood, had his mother taught him to believe, and, in consequence, vehe- mently opposed all his plans to obtain a commission. Hard necessity, however, left no room for mere scruples; some- thing he must do, and that something was narrowed to the one single career of a soldier. 438 TONY BUTLER. He was practical enough in a certain sense, and he soon resolved on his line of action; he would reserve just so much as would carry him back to England, and remit the remainder of what he had to his mother. This would amount to nigh eighty pounds, — a very con- siderable sum to one whose life was as inexpensive as hers. The real difficulty was how to reconcile her to the thought of his fallen condition, and the hardships she would inevitably associate in her mind with his future life. "Ain't I luck}^," cried he in his bitterness, and trying to make it seem like a consolation, — " ain't I lucky, that, except my poor dear mother, I have not one other in the whole world to care what comes to me, — none other to console, none other before whom I need plead or excuse m3'self! My failure or my disgrace are not to spread a widecast sorrow. They will only darken one fireside, and one figure in the corner of it." His heart was full of Alice all the while, but he was too proud to utter her name even to himself. To have made a resolve, however, seemed to rally his courage again; and when the boatman asked him where he should go next, he was so far away in his thoughts that he had some diflSculty to remember what he had been actually engaged in. "Where to?" "Well, I can't well tell you," said he, laughing. "Isn't that schooner English, — that one getting underway yonder? Shove me aboard of her." "She's outward bound, sir." "No matter, if they '11 agree to take me," muttered he to himself. The craft was "hauling short" on the anchor as Tony came alongside and learned that she was about to sail for Leghorn, having failed in obtaining a freight at Naples; and as by an accident one of the crew had been left on shore, the skipper was too willing to take Tony so far, though looking, as he remarked, far more like a swell lands- man than an ordinary seaman. Once outside the bay, and bowling along with a smart breeze and a calm sea, the rushing water making pleasant music at the bow, while the helm left a long white track some feet down beneath the surface, Tony felt, what so ADRIFT. 439 many others have felt, the glorious elation of being at sea. How many a care ''blue water" can assuage, how many a sorrow is made bearable by the fresh breeze that strains the cordage, and the laughing waves we cleave through so fast! A few very eventful days, in which Tony's life passed les3 like reality than a mere dream, brought them to Leghorn; and the skipper, who had taken a sort of rough liking to the "Swell," as he still called him, offered to take him on to Liverpool, if he were willing to enter himself regularly on the ship's books as one of the crew. "I am quite read}^," said Tony, who thought by the time the brief voyage was completed he should have picked up enough of the practice and the look of a sailor to obtain another emplo^mient easily. Accompanied by the skipper, he soon found himself in the consul's office, crowded with sailors and other maritime folk, busily engaged in preferring complaints or making excuses, or as eagerl}^ asking for relief against this or that exaction on the part of the foreign government. The consul sat smoking his cigar with a friend at a win- dow, little heeding the turmoil around, but leaving the charge of the various difficulties to his clerks, who only referred to him on some special occasions. "Here's a man, sir," cried one of the clerks, "who wishes to be entered in the ship's books under an assumed name. I have told him it can't be done." "Why does he ask it? Is he a runaway convict? " asked the consul. "Not exactly," said Tony, laughing; "but as I have not been brought up before the mast, and I have a f'^w relatives who might not like to hear of me in that station — " i "A scamp, I take," broke in the consul, "who, having done his worst on shore, takes to the sea for a refuge ? " "Partly right, — partly wrong," was the dry answer. "Well, my smart fellow, there 's no help for it. You must give your name and your birthplace; and if they should prove false ones, take any consequences that might result." "What sort of consequences might these be?" asked Tony, calmly; and the consul, having either spoken with- 440 TONY BUTLER. out any distinct knowledge attached to his words, or pro- voked by the pertinacity of the question, half irritably answered: "I 've no time to throw away in discussing cas- ualties; give your name or go your way." "Yes, yes," murmured the skipper. "Who knows any- thing about you down here? — Just sign the sheet and let 's be moving." The sort of good-humored tone and look that went with the words decided Tony, and he took the pen and wrote "Tony Butler, Ireland." The consul glanced at the writing, and said, " What part of Ireland? Name a town or a village." "I cannot; my father was a soldier, quartered in various places, and I 'm not sure in what part of the island I was born." '• Tony Butler means Anthony Butler, I suppose ? " ''Tony Butler! " cried the consul's friend, suddenly start- ing up, and coming forward; ''did you say your name was Tony Butler?" "Yes; that is my name." "And are you from the North of Ireland, — near the Causeway ? " Tony nodded, while a flush of shame at the recognition covered his face. "And do you know Dr. Stewart, the Presbyterian minis- ter in that neighborhood ? " "I should think so. The Burnside, where he lives, is not above a mile from us." "That's it, — the Burnside, — that's the name of it. I 'm as glad as fifty pounds in my pocket to see you, Mr. Butler," cried he, grasping Tony's hand in both his own. "There 's not a man from this to England I 'd as soon have met as yourself. I 'm Sam M'Gruder, Robert M'Gruder's brother. You haven't forgot him^ I hope? " "That I haven't," cried Tony, warmly returning the honest pressure of the other's hand. "What a stupid dog I have been not to remember that you lived here! and I have a letter for you, too, from your brother ! " "I want no letter of introduction with you^ Mr. Butler; come home with me. You 're not going to sea this time; " ADRIFT. 441 and, taking a pen, he drew a broad line of ink across Tonj^'s name; and then turning, he whispered a few words in the consul's ear. "I hope," said the consul, "Mr. Butler is not offended at the freedom with which I commented on him." "Not in the least," said Tony, laughing. "I thought at the time, if you knew me you would not have liked to have suggested my having been a runaway convict; and now that you do know me, the shame you feel is more than enough to punish you." "AVhat could have induced you to go before the mast, Mr. Butler?" said M'Gruder, as he led Tony away. "Sheer necessity. 1 wanted to earn my bread." "But you had got something, — some place or other?" "I was a messenger, but I lost my despatches, and was ashamed to go home and say so." "Will you stop with me? AVill you be a clerk? " asked the other; and a certain timidity in his voice showed that he was not quite assured as he spoke. "My business is like my brother's, — we 're ' in rags.' " " And so should I be in a few days," laughed out Tony, " if I had n't met j^ou. I '11 be your clerk, with a heart and a half, — that is, if I be capable ; only don't give me any- thing where money enters, and as little writing as possible, and no arithmetic, if you can help it." " That will be a strange sort of clerkship," said M'Gruder, with a smile ; " but we '11 see what can be done." CHAPTER XLVIII. '^IN RAGS." If Tony Butler's success in bis new career only depended on his zeal, he would have been a model clerk. Never did any one address himself to a new undertaking with a stronger resolution to comprehend all its details, and conquer all its ditficulties. First of all, he desired to show his gratitude to the good fellow who had helped him ; and secondly, he was eager to prove, if proven it could be, that he was not utterly incapable of earning his bread, nor one of those hopeless creatures who are doomed from their birth to be a burden to others. So long as his occupation led him out of doors, conveying orders here and directions there, he got on pretty well. He soon picked up a sort of Italian of his own, intelligible enough to those accustomed to it; and as he was alert, active, and untiring, he looked, at least, a most valuable assistant. Whenever it came to indoor work and the pen, his heart sank within him ; he knew that his hour of trial had come, and he had no strength to meet it. He would mistake the letter-book for the ledger or the day-book ; and he would make entries in one which should have been in the other, and then, worst of all, erase them, or append an explanation of his blunder that would fill half a page with inscrutable blottedness. As to payments, he jotted them down anywhere, and in his anxiety to compose confidential letters with due care, he would usually make three or four rough drafts of the matter, quite sufficient to impart the contents to the rest of the ofliice. Sam M'Gruder bore nobly up under these trials. He sometimes laughed at the mistakes, did his best to remedy, — never rebuked them. At last, as he saw that poor Tony's "IN RAGS." 443 difficulties, instead of diminishing, only increased with time, inasmuch as his despair of himself led him into deeper embarrassments, M'Gruder determined Tony should be en- tirely employed in journeys and excursions here and there through the country, — an occupation, it is but fair to own, invented to atford him emplo^^ment, rather than necessitated by any demands of the business. Not that Tony had the vaguest suspicion of this. Indeed, he wrote to his mother a letter filled with an account of his active and useful labors. Proud was he at last to say that he was no longer eating the bread of idleness. "I am up before dawn, mother, and very often have nothing to eat but a mess of Indian corn steeped in oil, not unlike what Sir Arthur used to fatten the bullocks with, the whole livelong day ; and sometimes I have to visit places there are no roads to ; nearly all the villages are on the tops of the mountains ; but, by good luck, I am never beat by a long walk, and I do my forty miles a day without minding it. " If I could only forget the past, dearest mother, or think it nothing but a dream, I 'd never quarrel with the life I am now leading ; for I have xjlenty of open air, mountain walk- ing, abundance of time to myself, and rough fellows to deal with, that amuse me ; but when I am tramping along with my cigar in my mouth, I can't help thinking of long ago, — of the rides at sunset on the sands, and all the hopes and fancies I used to bring home with me, after them. Well ! it is over now, — just as much done for as if the time had never been at all ; and I suppose, after a while, I '11 learn to bear it better, and think, as you often told me, that ' all things are for the best.' " I feel my own condition more painfully when I come back here, and have to sit a whole evening listening to Sam M'Gruder talking about Dolly Stewart and the plans about their marriage. The poor fellow is so full of it all that even the important intelligence I have for him he won't hear, but will say, ' Another time, Tony, another time, — let us chat about Dolly.' One thing I '11 swear to, she '11 have the honestest fellow for her husband that ever stepped, and tell her I said so. Sam would take it very kindly of you if you could get Dolly to agree to their being married in March. 444 TONY BUTLER. It is the only time he can manage a trip to England, — not but, as he says, whatever time Dolly consents to shall be his time. "He shows me her letters sometimes, and though he is half wild with delight at them, I tell you frankly, mother, they would n't satisfy me if I was her lover. She writes more like a creature that was resigned to a hard lot, than one that was about to marry a man she loved. Sam, how- ever, does n't seem to take this view of her, and so much the better. '' There was one thing in your last letter that puzzled me, and puzzles me still. Why did Dolly ask if I was likely to remain here? The way you put it makes me think that she was deferring the marriage till such time as I was gone. If I really believed this to be the case, I'd go away to- morrow, though I don't know well where to, or what for, but it is hard to understand, since I always thought that Dolly liked me, as certainly I ever did, and still do, her. " Try and clear up this for me in your next. I suppose it was by way of what is called ' sparing me,' you said nothing of the Lj^les in your last, but I saw in the ' Morning Post ' all about the departure for the Continent, intending to reside some years in Italy. " And that is more than I 'd do if I owned Lyle Abbey, and had eighteen blood-horses in my stable, and a clipper cutter in the Bay of Curr^'glass. I suppose the truth is, people never do know when they 're well off." The moral reflection, not arrived at so easily or so rapidly as the reader can imagine, concluded Tony's letter, to which in due time came a long answer from his mother. With the home gossip we shall not burden the reader, nor shall we ask of him to go through the short summary — four close pages — of the doctor's discourses on the text, " I would ye were hot or cold," two sensations that certainly the mere sight of the exposition occasioned to Tony. We limit our- selves to the words of the postscript. " I cannot understand Dolly at all, and I am afraid to mislead yon as to what yow ask. My impression is — but mind, it is mere impression — she has grown somewhat out of her old friendship for you. Some stories possibly have "IN RAGS." 445 represented you in a wrong light, and T half think you may be right, and that she would be less averse to the niai-riage if she knew you were not to be in the house with them. It was, indeed, only this morning the doctor said, ' Young married folk should aye learn each other's failings without bystanders to observe them,' — a significant hint I thought I would write to you by this post." When Tony received his epistle, he was seated in his own room, leisurely engaged in deciphering a paragraph in an Italian newspaper, descriptive of Garibaldi's departure from a little bay near Genoa to his Sicilian expedition. Nothing short of a letter from his mother could have with- drawn his attention from a description so full of intense interest to him ; and partly, indeed, from this cause, and partly from the hard labor of rendering the foreign language, the details stuck in his mind during all the time he was reading his mother's words. " So that 's the secret, is it? " muttered he. " Dolly wishes to be alone with her husband, — natural enough; and I'm not the man to oppose it. I hope she '11 be happy, poor girl ; and I hope Garibaldi will beat the Neapolitans. I 'm sure Sam is worthy of a good wife ; but I don't know whether these Sicilian fellows deserve a better government. At all events, my course is clear, — here I mustn't stay. Sam does not know that I am the obstacle to his marriage ; but / know it, and that is enough. I wonder would Gari- baldi take me as a volunteer? There cannot be much choice at such a time. I suppose he enrolls whoever offers ; and they must be mostly fellows of my own sort, — useless dogs, that are only fit to give and take hard knocks." He hesitated long whether he should tell Sam M'Gruder of his project ; he well knew all the opposition he should meet, and how stoutly his friend would set himself against a plan so fatal to all habits of patient industry. " And yet," muttered Tony to himself, " I don't lilce to tell him that I hate ' rags,' and detest the whole business. It would be so ungrateful of me. I could say my mother wanted to see me in Ireland ; but I never told him a lie, and I can't bear that our parting should be sealed with a falsehood." As he pondered, he took out his pistols and examined 446 TONY BETLER. them carefully ; and, poising one neatly in his hand, he raised it, as marksmen sometimes will do, to take an im- aginary aim. As he did so, M'Gruder entered, and cried out, laughing, " Is he covered, — is he dead? " Tony laid down the weapon, with a flush of shame, and said, "After all, M'Gruder, the pistol is more natural to me than the pen ; and it was just what I was going to con- fess to you." " You 're not going to take to the highways, though? " " Something not very unlike it; I mean to go and have a turn with Garibaldi." " Why, what do you know about Garibaldi or his cause? " "Perhaps not a great deal; but I've been spelling out these newspapers every night, and one thing is clear, whether he has right or wrong on his side, the heavy odds are all against him. He 's going in to fight regular troops, with a few hundred trampers. Now I call that very plucky." "So do I; but courage may go on to rashness, and be- come folly." "Well, I feel as if a little rashness will do me a deal of good. I am too well off here, — too easy, — too much cared for. Life asks no effort, and I make none ; and if I go on a little longer, I'll be capable of none." " I see," said the other, laughing, " Rags do not rouse your ambition, Tony." " I don't know what would, — that is, I don't think I have any ambition now ; " and there was a touch of sorrow in the last word that gave all the force to what he said. "At all events, you are tired of this sort of tiling," said the other, good-humoredly, "and it 's not to be much won- dered at. Y"ou began life at what my father used to call ' the wrong end.' Y"ou started on the sunny side of the road, Tony, and it is precious hard to cross over into the shade afterwards." " You 're right there, M'Gruder. I led the jolliest life that ever man did till I was upwards of twenty ; but I don't believe I ever knew how glorious it was till it was over ; but I must n't think of that now. See ! this is what I mean to do. Y'ou'U find some way to send that safely to my mother. There 's forty-odd pounds in it, and I 'd rather it was not i "IN RAGS." 447 lost. I have kept enough to buy a good rifle — a heavy Swiss one, if I can find it — and a sword-bayonet, and with these I am fully equipped." "Come, come, Tony, I'll not hear of this; that you are well weary of the life you lead here is not hard to see, nor any blame to you either, old fellow. One must be brought up to Rags, like everything else, and you were not. But my brother writes me about starting an American agency, — what do you say to going over to New York? " "What a good fellow you are!" cried Tony, staring at him till his eyes began to grow clouded with tears ; " what a good fellow ! you 'd risk your ship just to give me a turn at the tiller! But it mustn't be, — it cannot be; I'm bent on this scheme of mine, — I have determined on it." " Since when? since last night?" "Well, it's not very long, certainly, since I made up my mind." The other smiled. Tony saw it, and went on: "I know what you mean. You are of old Stewart's opinion. When be heard me once say I had made up my mind, he said, ' It does n't take long to make up a small parcel ; ' but every fellow, more or less, knows what he can and what he cannot do. Now I cannot be orderly, exact, and punctual, — even the little brains I have I can't be sure of keeping them on the matter before me ; but I defy a horse to throw me ; I '11 bring you up a crown-piece out of six fathoms water, if it's clear ; I '11 kill four swallows out of six with a ball ; and though tliesG are not gifts to earn one's bread by, the man that has them need n't starve." "If I thought that you had really reflected well over this plan, — given it all the thought and consideration it required — " "I have given it just as much consideration as if I took five weeks to it. A man may take an evening over a pint of ale, but it's only a pint, after all, — don't you see that?" M'Gruder was puzzled; perhaps there was some force in the illustration. Tony looked certainly as if he thought he had said a clever thing. "Well, Tony," said the other, after a moment of grave 448 TONY BUTLER. thought, "you '11 have to go to Genoa to embark, I suppose? " "Yes; the committee sits at Genoa, and every one who enrolls must appear before them." "You could walk there in four days." "Y^'es; but I can steam it in one." "Ay, true enough; what I mean to ask of you is this, that you will go the whole way on foot; a good walker as you are won't think much of that; and in these four days, as you travel along, — all alone, — you '11 have plenty of time to think over your project. If by the time you reach Genoa you like it as well as ever, I 've no more to say ; but if — and mark me, Tony, you must be honest with your own heart — if you really have your doubts and your misgiv- ings; if you feel that for your poor mother's sake — " "There, there! I've thought of all that," cried Tony, hurriedly. "I'll make the journey on foot, as you say you wish it, but don't open the thing to any more discussion. If I relent, I '11 come back. There 's my hand on it! " "Tony, it gives me a sad heart to part with you; " and he turned away, and stole out of the room. "Now, I believe it's all done," said Tony, after he had packed his knapsack, and stored by in his trunk what he intended to leave behind him. There were a few things there, too, that had their own memories! There was the green silk cap, with its gold tassel, Alice had given him on his last steeple-chase. Ah, how it brought back the leap — a bold leap it was — into the winning field, and Alice, as she stood up and waved her handkerchief as he passed! There was a glove of hers; she had thrown it down sport- ively on the sands, and dared him to take it up in full career of his horse; he remembered they had a quarrel because he claimed the glove as a prize, and refused to restore it to her. There was an evening after that in which she would not speak to him. He had carried a heavy heart home with him that night! What a fund of love the heart must be capable of feeling for a living, sentient thing, when we see how it can cling to some object inanimate and irresponsive. "I'll take that glove with me," muttered Tony to himself; "it owes me some good luck; who knows but it may pay me yet? " CHAPTER XLIX. MET AND PARTED. Tony went on his way early next morning, stealing off ere it was yet light, for he hated leave-takings, and felt that they weighed upon him for many a mile of a journey. There was enough on the road he travelled to have interested and amused him, but his heart was too full of its own cares, and his mind too deep in its own plans, to dispose him to such pleasures, and so he passed through little villages on craggy eminences and quaint old towers on mountain-tops, scarcely observing them. Even Pisa, with its world-known Tower, and the gem-like Baptistery beside it, scarce attracted notice from him, though he muttered as he passed, "Perhaps on some happier day I'll be able to come back here and admire it." And so onward he plodded through the grand old ruined Massa and the silent Sarzana, whose palaces display the quarterings of old crusading knights, with many an emblem of the Holy War; and by the beauteous Bay of Spezia he went, not stopping to see poor Shelley's home, and the terrace where his midnight steps had almost worn a track. The road now led through the declining ridges of the Apennines, gorgeous in color, ■ — such color as art would have scarce dared to counterfeit, so emerald the dark green of the waving pines, so silver-like the olive, so gloriously purple the great cliffs of porphyry; and then through many a riven cleft, through feathery foliage and broad-leaved fig-trees, down many a fathom low the sea! — the blue Mediterranean, so blue as to seem another sky of deeper meaning than the one above it. He noticed little of all these; he felt none of them! It was now the third day of his journey, and though he had scarcely uttered a word, and been deeply intent on his own 29 450 TONY BUTLER. fate, all that his thinking had done was to lead, as it were, into some boundless prairie, and there desert him. "I suppose," muttered he to himself, '^I am one of those creatures that must never presume to plan anything, but take each day's life as I find it. And I could do this. Ay, I could do it manfully, too, if I were not carrying along with rae memories of long ago. It is Alice, the thought of Alice, that dashes the present with a contrast to the past, and makes all I now attempt so poor and valueless." As the road descends from Borghetto, there is a sudden bend, from which, through a deep cleft, the little beach and village of Levanto are seen hundreds of feet beneath, but yet in that clear still atmosphere so near that not only the white foam of the breaking wave could be seen, but its rhythm-like plash heard as it broke upon the beach. For the first time since he set out had the charm of scenery attracted him, and, descending a few feet from the road, he reached a large square rock, from which he could com- mand the whole view for miles on every side. He took out his bread and cheese and a melon he had bought that morning, and disposed himself to eat his dinner. He had often partaken of a more sumptuous meal, but never had he eaten with so glorious a prospect at his feet. A little lateen-sailed boat stole out from beneath the olives and gained the sea; and as Tony watched her, he thought if he would only have been a fisherman there, and Alice his wife, how little he could have envied all that the world has of wealth and honors and ambitions. His friend Skeffy could not do this, but he could. He was strong of limb and stout of heart; he could bear hardships and cold; and it would be so fine to think that, born gentleman as he was, he never flinched from the hardest toil, or repined at the roughest fare, he and Alice treasuring up their secret, and hoarding it as a miser hoards his gold. Ay, down there, in that little gorge, with the pine-wood behind and the sea before, he could have passed liis life, with never a longing thought for the great world and its prizes. As he ran on thus in fancy, he never heard the sound of footsteps on the road above, nor noticed the voices of persons talking. MET AND PARTED. 451 At last he heard, not the words, but the tone of the speakers, and recognized them to be English. There is that peculiar sound in ILuglish utterance that at once dis- tinguishes it from all other speech; and Tony, quite for- getting that his high'-peaked Calabrian hat and massive beard made him far more like an Italian brigand than a British gentleman, not wishing to be observed, never turned bis head to look at them. At last one said, "The little fishing-village below there must be Levanto. John Murray tells us that this is the land of the fan palm and the cactus, so that at length we are in Italy." ''Do you know — shall I confess it," said the other, "that lam not thinking of the view, beautiful as it is? I am envying that peasant with his delicious melon on the rock there. I am half tempted to ask him to share it with me." "Ask him, by all means," said the first speaker, laughing. "You are jesting," replied the other, "but I am in sober earnest. I can resist no longer. Do you, however, wait here, or the carriage may pass on and leave us behind." Tony heard nothing of these words; but be heard the light footsteps, and he heard the rustle of a woman's dress as she forced her way, through bramble and underwood, till at last, with that consciousness so mysterious, he felt there was some one standing close behind him. Half vexed to think that his isolation should be invaded, he drew his hat deeper over his e^^es, and sat steadfastly gazing on the sea below him. "Is that Levanto I see beneath that cliff?" asked she, in Italian, — less to satisfy her curiosity than to attract his attention. Tony started. How intensely had his brain been charged with thoughts of long ago, that every word that met his ears should seem impregnated with these memories! A half- sulky "Si" was, however, his only rejoinder. "\Yhat a fine melon you have there, my friend!" said she; and now her voice thrilled through him so strangely that he sprang to his feet and turned to face her. "Is my brain tricking me? — are my senses wandering? " muttered he to himself. "Alice, Alice!" "Yes, Tony," cried she. "Who ever heard of so strange 452 TONY BUTLER. a raeetiDg ? How came you here ? Speak, or I shall be as incredulous as yourself! " But Touy could not utter a word, but stood overwhelmed with wonder, silently gazing on her. '"Speak to me, Tony," said she, in her soft winning voice, — "speak to me; tell me by what curious fortune j'ou came here. Let us sit down on this bank; our carriage is toiling up the hill, and will not be here for some time." "So it is not a dream! " sighed he, as he sat down beside her. "I have so little faith in my brain that I could not trust it." It was easy to see that his bewilderment still remained ; and so, with a woman's tact, she addressed herself to talk- ing of what would gradually lead his thoughts into a col- lected shape. She told how they were all on their way to the South, — Naples or Palermo, not certain which, — some- where for climate, as Isabella was still delicate. That her father and mother and sister were some miles behind on the road, she having come on more rapidly with a lighter car- riage. "Not all alone, though. Master Tony; don't put on that rebukeful face. The lady you see yonder on the road is what is called my companion, — the English word for duenna; and I half think I am scandalizing her ver}^ much by this conduct of mine, sitting down on the grass with a brigand chief, and, I was going to sa}', sharing his break- fast, though I have to confess it never occurred to him to offer it. Come, Tony, get up, and let me present you to her, and relieve her mind of the terrible thoughts that must be distressing her." "One moment, Alice, — one moment," said he, taking her hand. "What is this story my mother tells me?" He stopped, unable to go on; but she quickly broke in, "Scan- dal travels quickly, indeed; but I scarcely thought your mother was one to aid its journe3\" "She never believed it," said he, doggedl3^ "Why repeat it, then? Why give bad money currency? I think we had better join my friend. I see she is impatient." The coldness with which she spoke chilled him like a wintry blast; but he rallied soon, and with a vigorous energy wy^^^^t^^?? <^/z /A^j yy////- . (( OF THE " UNIVERS/TV -^i FORNIX MET AND PARTED. 453 said, "My mother no more believed ill of you than I did; and when I asked you what the slander meant, it was to know where I could find the man to pay for it." "You must deny yourself the pleasure this time, Tony," said she, laughing. "It was a woman's story, — a dis- appointed woman, — and so, not so very blamable as she might be; not but that it was true in fact." " True, Alice, — true ? " "Yes, sir. The inference from it was the only falsehood; but, really, we have had too much of this. Tell me of your- self, — why are you here ? Where are you now going ? " '' You 've heard of my exploits as a messenger, I suppose," said Tony, with a bitter laugh. '' I heard, as we all heard with great sorrow, that you left the service," said she, with a hesitation on each word. "Left it? Yes; I left to avoid being kicked out of it. I lost my despatches, and behaved like a fool. Then I tried to turn sailor, but no skipper would take me; and I did turn clerk, and half ruined the honest fellow that trusted me. And now I am going — in good truth, Alice, I don't exactly know where, but it is somewhere in search of a pursuit to fit a fellow who begins to feel he is fit for nothing." "It is not thus 3'our friends think of you. Ton}'," said she, kindly. "That's the worst of it," rejoined he, bitterly; "I have all m}' life been trying to justify an opinion that never should have been formed of me, — ay, and that I well knew I had no right to. " "Well, Tony, come back with us. I don't say with me^ because I must be triple discreet for some time to come; but come back with papa; he '11 be overjoyed to have you with us." "No, no," muttered Tony, in a faint whisper; "I could not, I could not." "Is that old grudge of long ago so deep that time has not filled it up?" "I could not, I could not," muttered he, evidently not hearing the words she had just spoken. "And why not, Tony? Just tell me why not? " 454 TONY BUTLER. "Shall I tell you, Alice?" said he; and his lip shook and his cheek grew pale as he spoke, — "shall I tell you? " She nodded ; for she too was moved, and did not trust herself to speak. "Shall I tell you?" said he; and he looked into her eyes with a meaning so full of love, and yet of sorrow, that her cheek became crimson, and she turned away in shame. "No, Tony," whispered she, faintly, "better not say — what might pain us both, perhaps." "Enough, if you know," said he, faintly. "There, see, my friend has lost all patience; come up to the road, Tony. She must see that my interview has been with an English gentleman, and not a brigand chief. Give me your arm, and do not look so sulky." "You women can look any way you will," mumbled he, "no matter what you may feel; that is, if you do feel." "You are the same old savage, Tony, as ever," said she, laughing. "I never got my melon, after all, Miss Lester; the sight of an old friend was, however, better. Let me pr^ent him to you, — Mr. Butler." "Mr. Tony Butler?" asked she, with a peculiar smile; and though she spoke it low, he heard her, and said, "l^es; I am Tony Butler." "Sir Arthur will be charmed to know you are here. It was but yesterday he said he 'd not mind taking a run through Calabria if we only had you with us." "I have said all that and more to him, but he doesn't mind it," said Alice. "Is this fair, Alice?" whispered he. "In fact," resumed she, "he has nowhere particular to go to, provided it be not the same road that we are taking." "Is this kind, Alice?" whispered he, again. "And though I have told him what pleasure it would give us all if he would turn back with us — " "Y^ou '11 drive me to say it," muttered he, between his teeth. "If you dare, sir," said she, in a low but clear whisper; and now she stepped into the carriage, and affected to busy herself with her mufflers. Tony assisted Miss Lester to her place, and then walked round to the side where Alice sat. MET AND PARTED. 455 "You are not angry with me, Alice? " said he, falteringly. "I certainly am not pleased," said she, coldly. "There was a time I had not to press a wish, — I had but to utter it." "And yet, Alice," said he, leaning over, and whispering so close that she felt his breath on her face, — "and yet I never loved you then as I love you now." "You have determined that I should not repeat my invi- tation," said she, leaning back in the carriage; "I must — I have no help for it — I must say good-bye! " "Good-bye," said he, pressing her hand, from which he had just drawn off the glove, to his lips. She never made any effort to withdraw it, bat leaned forward as though to conceal the action from her companion. ''Good-bye, dearest Alice," said he, once more. "Give me my glove, Tony. I think it has fallen," said she, carelessly, as she leaned back once more. "There it is," muttered he; "but I have another here that I will never part with;" and he drew forth the glove she had thrown on the strand for him to pick up — so long stgp ! " You will see papa, Tony ? " said she, drawing down her veil; "3'ou can't fail to meet him before night. Say you saw us. Good-bye." And Tony stood alone on the mountain, and watched the cloud of dust that rose behind the carriage, and listened to the heavy tramp of the horses till the sounds died off in the distance. "Oh if I could trust the whisper at my heart! " cried he. "If I could — if I could — I 'd be happier than I ever dared to hope for." CHAPTER L. THE SOLDIER OF MISFORTUNE. The little flicker of hope — faint enough it was — that cheered up Tony's heart, served also to indispose him to meet with Lady Lyle ; for he remembered, fresh as though it had been the day before, the sharp lesson that lady had read him on the "absurd pretensions of certain young gentlemen with respect to those immeasurably above them in station." "I am not in a humor to listen to the second part of the homily, which certainly would not be the less pointed, seeing that I am a wayfarer on foot, and with my knapsack strapped behind me." It gave him no sense of shame that Alice should have seen him thus poor and humble. He never blushed for his pack or his hobnailed shoes. If she could not think of him apart from the acci- dents of his condition, it mattered very little what he wore or how he journeyed. And as he cheered himself with these thoughts he gained a high peak, from which he could see the pine-clad promontory of Sestri, some thousand feet down below him. He knew the spot from description, and remem- bered that it was to be one of his resting-places for a night. It was no new thing for Tony to strike out his own line across country — his was a practised eye — to mark the course by which a certain point was to be reached, and to know, by something like instinct, where a ravine — where a river must lie — where the mountain-side would descend too precipi- tously for human footsteps — where the shelving decline would admit of a path — all these were his ; and in their exercise he had that sort of pride a man feels in what he deems a gift. This same pride and his hope together lightened the way, and he went forward almost happy ; so that once or twice THE SOLDIER OF MISFORTUNE. 457 he half asked himself if fortune was not about to turn on him with a kindlier look than she had yet bestowed? AVhen about a mile from the high-road, a dull rumbling sound, like far-away thunder, caught his ear : he looked up, and saw the great massive carriage of the wealthy Sir Arthur rolling ponderously along, with its six horses, and followed by a dense " wake" of dust for half a mile behind. " I am glad that we have not met," muttered he: "I could have wished to see Bella, and speak to her. She was ever my fast friend ; but that haughty old woman, in the midst of all the pride of her wealth, would have jarred on me so far that I might have forgotten myself. Why should my poverty provoke her to slight me? My poverty is mine, just as much as any malady that might befall me, and whose sufferings I must bear as I may, and cannot ask another to endure for me. It may try me to stand up against, but surely it is no burden to her; and why make it seem as a gulf between us?" Ah, Master Tony ! subtler heads than yours have failed to untie this knot. It was dusk when he reached Sestri, and found himself in the little vine-clad porch of the " Angelo d' Oro," a modest little inn for foot-travellers on the verge of the sea. He ordered his supper to be served in the open air, under the fresh foliage, and with the pleasant night-wind gently stir- ring the leaves. As the landlord arranged the table, he informed Tony that another traveller had come a short time before, but so igno- rant of the language was he that he was only served by means of signs ; and he seemed so poor, too, that they had scruples about giving him a bed, and were disposed to let him pass the night under the porch. Tony learned that the traveller had only tasted a glass of wine and a piece of bread, and then, as if overcome by fatigue and exhaustion, dropped off asleep. "I will see him," said he, rising, without partaking of the soup that was just placed before him; "the poor fellow may perhaps be ill." The landlord led the way to the end of the house, where, on a heap of chestnut leaves, the usual bedding of the cattle in these regions, a large strongly built man, poorly clad and travel-stained, lay sound asleep. Tony took the lantern and held it to his face. How was it he knew the 458 TONY BUTLER. features? He knew them, and 3'et not the man. He was sure that the great massive brow and that large strong cheek were not seen by him for the first time, and though he was sorry to disturb the poor fellow's slumber, he could not con- trol his impatience to resolve the doubt; and, stooping down, he shook him gently by the shoulder. "What is it?" cried the man, starting up to a sitting posture; "what is it now?" " You are a countryman of mine," said Tony, " and I'm trying to think if we have not met before." The man rose to his feet, and, taking the lantern from Tony's hand, held it up to his face. " Don't you know me, sir," cried he; "don't you remember me?" "I do, and I do not," muttered Tony, still puzzled. "Don't you mind the day, sir, that you was near been run over in London, and a man pulled you out just as the horses was on top o' you? " "And are you the man? Are you the poor fellow whose bundle I carried off ? " — but he stopped, and, grasping the man's hand, shook it cordially and affectionately. "By what chance do I find you here?" The man looked about, as if to see that he was not over- heard ; and Tony, marking the caution of the gesture, said, "None can understand us here. Don't be afraid to say what you like; but first of all, come and share my supper with me." It was not without a modest reluctance that the poor fellow took his seat at the table; and, indeed, for some time so overcome was he by the honor accorded him, that he scarcely ate at all. If Tony Butler was no finished con- versationalist, able to lead the tulk of a dinner-table, yet in the tact that pertains to making intercourse with an inferior easy and familiar he had not many his equal ; and before the meal was finished, he slapped him familiarly on the shoulder, and said, "Rory Quin, here's your health, and a long life to you! " "How did you know my name, sir?" asked the poor fellow, whose face glowed with delight at the flattery of such a recognition. "At first I did not trust my memory, Rory, for I wrote it THE SOLDIER OF MISFORTUNE. 459 down in a note- book I have; and after a while I learned to think of you so often, and to wish I might meet you, that I had no need of the writing. You don't seem to remember that I am in your debt, my good fellow. I carried off your bundle, and, what was worse, it fell overboard and was lost." "It couldn't have any but bad luck," said Rory, thought- fully; "and maybe it was^ just the best thing could happen it." There was a touch of sorrow in what he said that Tony easily saw; a hidden grief had been removed, and after a little inducement he led him on to tell his story; and which, though, narrated in Rory's own words, it occupied hours, may, happily for my readers, be condensed into a very few sentences. Rory had been induced, partly by the glorious cause itself, partly through the glittering promises of personal advancement, to enlist for foreign service. A certain Major M'Caskey — a man that, as Rory said, would wile the "birds off the trees — came down to the little village he lived in at the foot of the Galtee Mountains; and there was not one, young or old, was not ready to follow him. To hear him talk, as Rory described, was better than a play. There wasn't a part of the world he hadn't seen, there was n't a great man in it he did n't know; and "what beat all," as Rory said, "was the way he had the women on his side." Not that he was a fine-looking man, or tall, or handsome, — far from it; he was a little "crith of a cray- ture," not above five feet four or five, and with red whiskers and a beard, and a pair of eyes that seemed on fire ; and he had a way of looking about him as he went, as much as to say, "Where's the man that wants to quarrel with me? for I'm ready and willin'." "I won't say," added Rory, with a touch of humility, "that one like your honor would have thought so much of him as we did. I won't say that all the fine people he knew, and all the wonderful things he did, would have made your honor admire him, as I, and others like me, did. Maybe, indeed, you 'd have found out it was lies from beginning to end." 460 TONY BUTLER. "I'm not so sure of that," muttered Tony; *'there are plausible fellows of that sort that take in men of the world every day ! " And Tony sat back in his chair and puffed his cigar in silence, doubtless recalling one such adept in his own experience. "Faix, I'm proud to hear your honor say that!" cried Rory. "I'm as glad as a pound-note to know that even a gentleman might have been ' taken in ' by the Major." ''I'll not go that far, perhaps," remarked Tony, "as regards your Major; but I repeat that there are certain fel- lows of his kind who actually have imposed on gentlemen, — yes, on gentlemen who were no fools, either. But how was it he tricked you?" Now were the floodgates of Rory's eloquence thrown open, and for above an hour did he revel, as only an Irish- man or an Italian can, in a narrative of cruel wrongs and unmerited hardships; sufferings on laud and sufferings at sea; short rations, bad language, and no pay. Rory was to have been an officer, — a captain, at least; and when they landed at Ancona, he was marched away hundreds of miles, with a heavy musket, and a heavier pack, as a common soldier, and given nothing but beans and oil for his food, and told he 'd be shot if he grumbled. But what he felt most of all was, that he never knew whose service he was in, and what he was going to fight for. Now it was the Holy Father, — Rory was ready to die for him and the Blessed Virgin; now it was the King of Naples and Saint Somebody, whose name he couldn't remember, and that Rory felt no enthusiasm for. At one moment he was told the Pope was going to bless the w4iole battalion, and sprinkle them with his own hand; and then it was the Queen — and purty she was, no doubt — was to lead them on, God knows where! "And that's the way we were living in the mountains for six weeks, and every time they paraded us — about once a week — there would be thirty or forty less of us ; some gone off to be sailors, some taking to the highway as robbers, and a few selling whatever they had and making for home. At last the Major himself came down to inspect us, — he was Colonel then, and covered with gold, and all over stars and crosses. We were drawn THE SOLDIER OF MISFORTUNE. 461 up in a square of a little town they call Loretto, that has houses on three sides of it, and a low sea-wall with a drop of about twenty feet to the sea. I '11 not forget the place to my dying day. "There was four hundred and twenty-seven of us out of two thousand and sixty, — the rest ran away ; and when the Major heard the roll called, I thought he 'd go out of his mind; and he walked up and down in front of us, gnashing his teeth and blaspheming as never I heard before. ' Ye scoundrels,' he said at last, ' you 've disgraced me eternally, and I '11 go back to the Holy Father and tell him it 's curses and not blessings he 'd have to give you.' "This was too much to bear, and I cried out, 'You'd better not ! ' " ' Who says that? ' cries he. ' Where 's the cowardly rascal that has n't the courage to step forward and repeat these words ? ' and with that I advanced two paces, and, putting my gun to my shoulder, took a steady aim at him. I had him covered. If I pulled the trigger, he was a dead man; but I could n't do it, — no, if I got the whole world for it, I could n't ; and do you know why ? — here it is, then : It was the way he stood up, bould and straight, with one band on his breast, and the other on the hilt of his sword, and he cried out, ' Fire! you scoundrel, fire! ' Bad luck to me if I could ; but I walked on, covering him all the while, till I got within ten paces of the wall, and then I threw down my musket, and with a run I cleared it, and jumped into the sea. He fired both his pistols at me, and one ball grazed my head; but I dived and swam and dived till he lost sight of me; and it was half an hour before they got out a boat, and before that I was snug hiding between the rocks, and so close to him that I could hear him swearing away like mad. When it was dark I crept out, and made my way along the shore to Pesaro, and all the way here. Indeed, I had only to say anywhere I was a deserter, and every one was kind to me. And do you know, sir, now that it's all over, I'm glad I didn't shoot him in cold blood?" "Of course you are," said Tony, half sternly. "But if I am," rejoined the other, — "if I am glad of it, 462 TONY BUTLER. it 's a'most breaking my heart to think I 'm going back to Ireland without a chance of facing him in a fair tight." ''You could do that, too, if you were so very anxious for it," said Tony, gravely. ''Do you tell me so? And how, sir? " "Easy enough, Rory. I'm on my way now to join a set of brave fellows that are going to fight the very soldiers your Major will be serving with. The cause that he fights for, I need not tell you, can't be a very good one." "Indeed, it oughtn't," said Ror}^, cautiousl}^ "Come along with me, then; if it's only fighting j^ou ask for, there 's a fellow to lead us on that never balked any one's fancy that way. In four days from this we can be in the thick of it. I don't want to persuade you in a hurr}^, Rory. Take a day — take two — three days, if you like, to think of it." "I won't take three minutes. I'll follow your honor to the world's end! and if it gives me a chance to come up with the Major, I '11 bless the hour I met you." Tony now told him — somewhat more ambiguously, I 'm afraid, than consisted with perfect candor — of the cause they were going to fight for. He made the most of those magical words so powerful to the Celtic heart, — oppres- sion, cruelty, injustice; he imparted a touch of repeal to the struggle before them; and when once pressed hard by Rory with the home question, "Which side is the Holy Father?" he roughly answered, "I don't think he has much to say to it one way or other." "Faix, I'm ashamed of myself," said Rorj^ flushing up; "and I ought to know that what 's good enough for your honor to fight for is too good for me." They drained the last glasses of their flask in pledge of their compact, and, resolving to keep their resting-time for the sultry heat of the day, started by the clear starlight for Genoa. CHAPTER LI. A PIECE OF GOOD TIDINGS. It was about a week after this event when Sara M'Gruder received a few lines from Tony Butler, saying that he was to sail that morning with a detachment for Garibaldi. They were bound for Marsala, and only hoped that they might not be caught by the Neapolitan cruisers which were said to swarm along the coast. "I suppose," he writes, "there's plenty of ' fight ' amongst us ; but we are more picturesque than decent-looking; and an honest countryman of mine, who has attached himself to my fortunes, tells me in confi- dence that ' they 're all heathens, every man of them.' They are certainly a wild, dare-devil set, whom it will be diflQcult to reduce to any discipline, and, I should fear, impossible to restrain from outrage if occasion offers. We are so crowded that we have only standing-room on deck, and those below are from time to time relieved in squads, to come up and breathe a little fresh air. The suffering from heat and thirst was bad yesterday, but will, perhaps, be less at sea, with a fresh breeze to cool us. At all events, no one complains. We are the joUiest blackguards in the world, and going to be killed in a better humor with life than half the fine gentlemen feel as they wake in the morn- ing to a day of pleasure. "I shall be glad when we put foot on land again; for I own I 'd rather fight the Neapolitans than live on in such close companionship with my gallant comrades. If not ' bowled ' over, I '11 write to you within a week or two. Don't forget me. — Yours ever, "ToxY Butler." M'Gruder was carefully ploddino; his way through this not very legible document, exploring it with a zeal that 464 TONY BUTLER. vouched for his regard for the writer, when he was informed that an English gentleman was in the otBce inquiring for Mr. Butler. The stranger soon presented himself as a Mr. Culter, of the house of Box & Culter, solicitors, London, and related that he had been in search of Mr. Anthon}' Butler from one end of Europe to the other. "I was first of all, sir," said he, "in the wilds of Calabria, and thence I was sent off to the equally barbarous north of Ireland, where I learned that I must retrace my steps over the Alps to 3'our house ; and now I am told that Mr. Butler has left this a week ago." "Your business must have been important to require such activity," said M'Gruder, half inquiringly. " Ver}^ important, indeed, for Mr. Butler, if I could only meet with him. Can you give any hint, sir, how that is to be accomplished?" "I scarce!}^ think you '11 follow him when I tell j^ou where he has gone," said M'Gruder, dryly. "He has gone to join Garibaldi." "To join Garibaldi!" exclaimed the other. "A man with a lauded estate and thirty-six thousand in the Three per Cents gone off to Garibaldi! " "It is clear we are not talking of the same person. My poor friend had none ofv that wealth you speak of." "Probably not, sir, when last you saw him; but his uncle. Sir Omerod Butler, has died, leaving him all he had in the world." "I never knew he had an uncle. I never heard him speak of a rich relation." "There was some family quarrel, — some estrangement, I don't know what; but when Sir Omerod sent for me to add a codicil to his will, he expressed a great wish to see his nephew before he died, and sent me off to Ireland to fetch him to him ; but a relapse of his malady occurred the day after I left him, and he died within a week." The man of law entered into a minute description of the property to which Tony was to succeed. There was a small family estate in Ireland, and a large one in England; there was a considerable funded fortune, and some scattered moneys in foreign securities ; the whole only charged with eight hundred a-year on the life of a lady no longer young, A PIECE OF GOOD TIDINGS. 465 whom scandal called Dot the widow of Sir Omerod Butler. M'Gruder paid little attention to these details; his whole thought was how to apprise Tony of his good-luck, — how call him back to a world where he had what would make life most enjoyable. "I take it, sir," asked he, at last, "that you don't fancy a tour in Sicily? " "Nothing is less in my thoughts, sir. We shall be most proud to act as Mr. Butler's agents, but I 'm not prepared to expose my life for the agency." "Then, I think I must go myself. It's clear the poor fellow ought to know of his good fortune." " I suspect that the Countess Brancaleone, the annuitant I mentioned, will not send to tell him," said the lawyer, smiling; "for if Mr. Butler should get knocked over in this ugly business, she inherits everything, even to the family plate with the Butler arms." "She sha'n't, if I can help it," said M'Gruder, firmly. "I'll set out to-night." Mr. Culter passed a warm eulogium on this heroic devo- tion, enlarged on the beauty of friendship in general, and concluded by saying he would step over to his hotel, where he had ordered dinner ; after which he would certainly drink Mr. M'Gruder's health. "I shall want some details from you," said M'Gruder, — "something written and formal, — to assure my friend that my tidings are trustworthy. I know it will be no easy task to persuade him that he is a man of fortune." "You shall have all you require, sir, — a copy of the will, a formal letter from our house, reciting details of the prop- erty, and, what will perhaps impart the speediest convic- tion of all, a letter of credit, in Mr. Butler's favor, for five hundred pounds for immediate use. These are the sort of proofs that no scepticism is strong enough to resist. The only thing that never jests, whose seriousness is above all levity, is money;" and so M'Gruder at once acknowledged that when he could go fortified with such testimonies, he defied all doubt. His preparations for departure were soon made. A short letter to his brother explained the cause of his sudden leaving; a longer one to Dolly told how, in his love for 30 466 TONY BUTLER. her, be could not clo enough for her friend ; and that, though he liked Tony well for his own sake, he liked him far more as the "adopted brother and old playfellow of his dearest Dolly." Poor fellow! he wrote this from a full heart, and a very honest one too. Whether it imparted all the pleasure he hoped it might to her who read it, is none of our province to tell. It is only ours to record that he started that night for Genoa, obtained from a friend — a subor- dinate in the Government employment — a letter to Gari- baldi himself, and sailed with an agent of the General's in charge of a supply of small-arms and ammunition. They were within thirty miles of Sicily when they were boarded by the Neapolitan corvette the "Veloce," and car- ried off prisoners to Palermo, — the one solitary capture the royal navy made in the whole of that eventful struggle. The proofs that they were Garibaldians were too strong and many for denial; and for a day and a half their fate was far from hopeful. Indeed, had the tidings of the first encounters between the King's forces and the buccaneers been less disastrous than they were, the prisoners would have been shot; but already a half doubt had arisen as to the fidelity of the royal troops. This and that general, it was rumored, had resigned; and of those who remained, it was said, more than one had counselled "concessions." Omi- nous word at such a moment, but the presage of something darker and more ominous still. M'Gruder bore up with a stout heart, and nothing grieved him in all his calamity more than the thought that all tliis time Tony might be exposing his life as worthless and hopeless, while, if he only knew it, he had already succeeded to what men are content to pass their whole existence to grasp and gain. Nor was he inactive in his imprisonment. He wrote letters to Garibaldi, enclosing others to Ton}' ; he wrote to all the consuls he could think of; to the Minister at Naples, or to his representative; and he proclaimed his right as a "civis Romanus," and threatened a Palmerstonian vengeance on all and every that had a hand in curtailing his freedom. In this very natural and British pursuit we must now leave him, and betake ourselves to other cares and other characters. CHAPTER LII. ON THE CHIAJA AT NIGHT. The night had just closed in after a hot sultry day of autumn in Naples, as Maitland and Caffarelli sat on the sea-wall of the Chiaja, smoking their cigars in silence, apparently deep in thought, or sometimes startled by the distant shouts and cries of the populace who crammed the Toledo or the Quarter of St. Lucia ; for all Naples was now in the streets, and wild songs and yells resounded on every side. In the bay the fleet lay at anchor; but the rapid flash of lanterns, as they rose and fell in the riggings, showed that the signalman was at work, and that messages were being transmitted and replied to throughout the squadron. A like activity seemed to prevail in the forts above the city, and the roll of the drum and the bugle-call occasionally could be heard overtopping all other sounds. "What would a newly come traveller say to all this?" said Caffarelli, at last. "Would he think it was a city about to be attacked by an enemy, or would he deem it a town in open revolt, or one given up to pillage after the assault? I have seen to-night what might confirm any of these impressions." "And all three are present," said Maitland, moodily. *'Your traveller could scarcely be more puzzled than we are." The other sighed wearily, and Maitland went on. ""^What do you trust, or whom? Is it those noisy legions up there, who only muster to disband; or that gallant fleet that has come to anchor, only the more easily to surrender and change its flag?" 468 TONY BUTLER. "There may be some traitors, but the great majority, I '11 swear, will stand by the King." "No ; not one in fifty, — not one in a hundred. You don't seem to apprehend that loyalty is not a sudden instinct. It is a thing a man inherits. Take my word for it, Carlo, these men will not fight to keep a certain set of priests around a bigoted old Queen, or support a King whose highest ambition is to be a Jesuit." "And if you thought so meanly of the cause, why have you adopted it ? " "Because, ill as I think of the Court, I hate the rabble more. Remember, Carlo," — and now he spoke in a rapid and marked tone, — "remember that, when I joined you, I deemed myself a rich man, and I had my ambitions, like the rest of you. Had I known what I now know, — had I foreseen that the day was so near wherein I was to find myself a beggar — " "No, no, Maitland; don't say this." "And why not say it? It is true. You know as well as I do, that amongst that yelling rabble there is none poorer than myself; and for this reason, I repeat, I might have chosen my associates more wisely. You yourself saw the treatment I met with this morning." "Ay, but bear in mind, Maitland, what was the provoca- tion you gave. It is no small thing to tell a king, sur- rounded by his ministers and generals, that he has not one loyal and true man in his train; that, what between treach- ery and cowardice, he will find himself alone, at the head of a few foreign regiments, who will onl}^ fight to cut their way through towards home.",-, "I scarcely went so far as this," said Maitland, smiling. "Did you not, per Bacco ! I was there and heard you. You accused Laguila to his face of being bought, and named the sum ; and you told Cadorno that you had a copy of his letter promising to surrender the flag-ship to Garibaldi." "And they listened to me with an admirable patience." "I don't know that; I am certain Cadorno will send you a message before the week is over." "And why not before the day w^as over? Are these accu- sations a man sleeps upon?" ON THE CHIAJA AT NIGHT. 469 "The King commanded them both to reply to your charges formally and distinctly, but not with the sword; and he was right so far." "At all events, was it kingly to tell me of the favors that had been bestowed upon me, and to remind me that I was an alien, and unknown?" "The King was angry." "He was angrier when I handed him back his patent, and told him that I did not care to be the last-made noble of a dynasty." "It was outrageous. I was shocked to hear you; and for one so young, I was struck with the dignity with which he heard you." "I don't think he understood me; he was impassive be- cause he did not know he was wounded. But why do I /talk of these things? They have no longer the faintest in- terest for me. Except yourself, there is not a man in the cause I care for." "This is a mere passing depression, my dear Maitland. All things seem sad-colored to you now. Wait till to- morrow, or wait till there be a moment of danger, and you will be yourself again." "As for that," said Maitland, bitterly, "I am terribly myself just now. The last eight or ten years of my life were the dream ; now is the awakenment. But cheer up, my old friend. I will stand by yon^ though I care very little for the cause you fight for. I will still sei^e on the Staff, and play out my part to the fall of the curtain." "What a stranse scene that council was this mornins;!" said Caffarelli, half wishing to draw him from the personal theme. "What a strange thing to call a council, where not merely men walked in and out unbidden, but where a chance trav- eller could sit down amongst the King's advisers, and give his opinion like a servant of the crown! Do you even know his name ? " "I'm not sure that I do; but it sounded like Tcherni- cheff. He distinguished himself against the Turks on the Danube." "And because he routed some ill-disciplined hordes with 470 TONY BUTLER. others a mere shade more civilized, he comes here to impose his opinion on our councils, and tell us how we are to defend ourselves ! " "1 did not hear him utter a word." "No, but he handed in a paper drawn up by himself, in which he recommends the King to withdraw all the forces in front of Capua, and meet these marauders, where they will less like to fight, in the open. The advice was good, even though it came from a barbarian. In street-fighting your buccaneer is as good as, if not better than, a regular. All the circumstances of the ground favor him. Take him, however, where he must move and manoeuvre, — where he w ill have to form and re-form, to dress his line under fire, and occasionally change his flank, — then all the odds will be against him. So far the Scythian spoke well. His only miscalculation was to suppose that we will fight anywhere." "I declare, Maitlaud, I shall lose temper with you. You can't surely know what insulting things you say." "I wish they could provoke any other than yourself, mio caro. But come away from this. Let us walk back again. I want to have one more look at those windows before I go." "And are you really in love?" asked the other, with more of astonishment in his voice than curiosity. "I wish I knew how to make her believe it, that's all," said he, sadl}^; and, drawing his arm within his friend's, moved on with bent-down head and in silence. "I think your friends are about the onl}^ travellers in Naples at this moment, and, indeed, none but English would come here at such a season. The do2;-da3's and the revo- lution together ought to be too much even for tourist curiosit3^" Caffarelli went on to describe the arrival of the three heavy-laden carriages with their ponderous baggage and their crowd of servants, and the astonishment of the land- lord at such an apparition; but Maitland paid him no attention, — perhaps did not even hear him. Twice or thrice Caffarelli said something to arouse notice Or attract curiosity, even to pique irritability, as when he said: "I suppose I must have seen your beauty, for I saw two, — and both good-looking, — but neither such as would ON THE CHIAJA AT NIGHT. 471 drive a man distracted out of pure admiration. Are you minding me? Are you listening to me? " "iSo, I iiave not heard one word you were saying." "Civil, certainly; but, seriously, Maitland, is there not something more pressing to do at this moment than to loiter along the Chiaja to catch a glimpse of the closed curtains within which some blond angel may be taking her tea? " "Go home, and I will join you later on. I have given orders about the horses. My man will have all in readi- ness by daybreak. You seem to me most terribly eager to have your head smashed. The King ought to reward your valor. It will be the only ' Cross ' he will have to bestow." Caffarelli turned impatiently from him, and walked away. Maitland looked after him for a moment, and then con- tinued his way. He sauntered on, rather like one seeking to kill time than to reach a goal, and once or twice he stopped, and seemed to reflect whether he would go on. At last he reached a spot where a broad path of light streamed across the street, and extended till it was lost in the thick foliage of the garden on the sea-side, and, looking suddenly up, he saw he was in front of the great hotel of Naples, "L' Universo." The drawing-room windows were open on a long balcony, and Maitland could see in the well-lighted room certain figures which he persuaded him- self he could recognize even through the muslin curtains, which slightly moved and waved in the faint night-air. As he still strained his eyes to mark the scene, two figures approached the window, and passed out upon the balcony. There could be no mistake, — they were Alice and her sister; and so perfect was the stillness of the air, and so thin withal, that he could hear the sound of their voices, though not trace their words. "Is it not delicious here, Alice?" said Bella. "These are the glorious nights of Italy Maitland used to tell us of, — so calm, so balmy, and so starry." "What was that Skeffy was saying to you about I\Iaitland as you came upstairs?" asked Alice, sharply. "Oh, it was a rumor he mentioned that Maitland had quarrelled with the Court party. He had advised some- thing, or rejected something ; in fact, I paid little attention, 472 TONY BUTLER. for I know nothing of these Italian plots and schemes, and I like Maitland much better when he does not speak of them." "Is he here now, do you know?" "Yes; Skeff said he saw him this morning." "I hope and pray he may not hear that we have arrived. I trust that we may not see him/' "And why so, Alice dearest?" "Can you ask me? '' "I mean, why not receive him on the terms of an easy intimacy? A person of his tact is always quick enough to appreciate the exact amount of favor he is held in." ''It is of myself I am thinking, — not of him," said she, with something of resentment in her tone. "If you speak this way, Alice, I shall believe that you care for him." "The greater mistake yours, my dear Bella." "Well — that you did once care for him, and regret the fact, or regret the change, — which is it? " "Neither, on my honor! He interested me, — I own to that; but now that I know his myster}^, and what a vulgar mystery it is, I am half ashamed that I even felt an interest in him." "Gossip would sa}^ you did more, Alice, — that you gave him encouragement." "What an odious word you have impressed into your service ! but I deny it ; nor was he one to want it. Your adventurer never does." "Adventurer!" "I mean it in its least offensive sense; but, really, I see no reason why this man's name is to persecute me. I left Ireland half to avoid it. I certainly need not encounter it here." "And if you meet him?" "J. shall not meet him. I don't intend to go out so long as we are here, and I trust I can refuse to receive him when at home." "I had almost said, Poor fellow! " "Say it, by all means; compassionate — console him, too, if Skeff has no objection." ON THE CHIAJA AT NIGHT 473 *'0h, Alice!" *'Your own fault, Bella, if I say provoking things. No, mamma," added she, to some remark from within; "our secrets, as you call them, cannot be overheard; for, first of all, we are talking English ; and secondly, there is no per- son whatever in the street." Lady Lyle now made her appearance on the balcony, and soon afterwards they all re-entered the room. Maitland sat hours long on the stone bench, watching with intense eager- ness as a shadow would pass or repass behind the curtains, and there he remained till all the lights were out in the hotel and the whole house sunk in silence. CHAPTER LIII. UNPLEASANT RECKONINGS. There were few busier diplomatists in Europe during these eventful days of Naples than SkefRngton Darner ; and if England had not her share of influence, it was no fault of his. He sent off special messengers ever}^ day. He wrote to F. O. in a cipher, of which it was said no one had the key ; and he telegraphed in mystical language to the Ad- miral at Malta, which went far to persuade the gallant sea- man that his correspondent was a maniac. He besieged the Court and the ministerial offices, and went home to receive deputations from the wildest leaders of the extreme democ- racy. He was determined, as he said, to "know the truth," and he surrounded himself for that purpose with a mass of inextricable perfidy and falsehood ; and yet, with all these occupations, he passed his entire mornings with the Lyles, and dined with them every day. It was a great pleasure, as Sir Arthur said, to be " behind the scenes ; " and really the phrase did not ill represent their position, for the}" knew as much of what was going on upon the stage as people usually" do who liave only an occasional glimpse, and that from a wrong point of view. Sir Arthur, however, believed Skeffy to be the rising diplomatist, the embryo Talleyrand of Great Britain ; and it was strange to see an old, crafty, case-hardened man of the world listening with implicit trustfulness to the hare-brained speculations of a young fellow, whose solitary pretensions were, that he sent off his daily balderdash marked "On Her Majesty's Ser- vice,'' and sealed with the roj^al arms. Lady Lyle only half believed in him ; and as for Alice, she laughed at, but liked him ; while Bella gave him all her UNPLEASANT RECKONINGS. 475 confidence, and admired him greatly. And a very nice thing it is of young ladies, and never to be too much commended, how they will hang on the words, and store up the sayings, and repeat the opinions of the man who prefers them. It is not exactly Love, no more than gooseberry wine is cham- pagne ; but it effervesces and exhilarates, and I'm not sure if it does not agree very well with weak constitutions. Now Skeffy told Bella every morning in the most myste- rious manner how he had checkmated Bresson, the French Minister, and outwitted Caraffa and the Cardinal Riario. They never could niake out whence he had his information. The Queen had spent a fortune in paying spies to watch him, but he out-manoeuvred them all. Nobody knew — nobody ever could know — the resources of his craft; and, indeed, except Louis Napoleon, there was not a man in Europe had fathomed the depth of his astuteness. " I have to pretend," would he say, "to be a light, flippant, volatile creature, given up to pleasure, fond of play, of the ballet, and all that sort of thing. I let them hear every day of the sums I have lost at lansquenet, and the enormous extravagance of my daily life, but they don't know what goes on here," and he would tap his forehead ; " they never suspect what plots and plans and machinations are at w^ork within that brain they imagine to be abandoned to enjoyment. It will come out one of these days, dearest Bella; they'll know who ' did it' yet." And this was a very favorite phrase with him, and Bella caught it up, and talked of the people who had not "done it," and never could "do it," and hinted at one whom an ignorant world would awake one morning to see had "done it," and "done it" to perfection. To hear him talk, you would say that he rather liked the mistaken estimate the world had formed of him ; that it was one of those excellent jokes whose point lay in a surprise ; and what a surprise would that be one of these days when he came forth in his true character, the great political genius of Europe ! Bella believed it all ; not that she was deficient in common sense, or wanting in discernment; but she liked him, — there was the secret. She had made her investment in a certain stock, and would persist in regarding it as a most profitable venture ; and thus would they pass their 476 TONY BUTLER. rnorniugs, — a strange way to make love, perhaps ; but that passion, etherealize it how you may, trades on some one form or other of selfishness ; and all these endearments were blended with the thought of how happy they should be when they were great people. Skeffy would bring with him, besides, a whole bagful of papers, despatches, and ''private and confidentials," and such-like, and make Bella copy out pages for him of that dreary trash, which, like a bad tapestry, has served no other purpose than to employ the small mind that devised it. And he would sit there, with his eyes closed, and dictate to her endless " brief glances" at the present aspect of the Italian question, till the poor girl was half worn out between the importance of her task and its weariness. " What's that you are poring over, Bella?" he asked, as she read over a somewhat lengthy letter. " It is the complaint of an Englishman at being detained by the authorities, first at Palermo and again here : he was a mere traveller, he asserts, and not in any way engaged in political schemes. He saj^s that this is his fourth appeal to you without an answer, and he declares that if this be not replied to, he will address the Chief Secretary at home." " Tell the fellow that aDamer is inaccessible to a menace ; tell him that his stupid letter would be promptly referred back to me ; and say that, so far as this peninsula is con- cerned, I am F. O., and to be propitiated by humility, and not outraged by a threat." " But if it be really true — if the poor fellow should be imprisoned for nothing, Skeff?" '' If fo, I shall liberate him ; " and as he spoke, he arose and walked the room with a haughty stride and a head erect. ''Write — " ' Sir, —I am directed hy H. M.'s Charge d'Affaires ' — or rather say, ' The undersigned has to acknowledge the re- ceipt of — what 's his name?" "Samuel M'Gruder." "What a name! — 'of Samuel M'Gruder's letter; and although he takes exception to the passages marked A and B, and requires explanation of the paragraph C, beginning at the words " nor can I," and ending at " British subject " ' — UNPLEASANT RECKONINGS. 477 You '11 have to copy out the whole of this despatch, Bella, and then I shall mark the passages — Where was I ? *' " ' British subject.' " "Yes, I remember. 'Yet that, conceding nmch to the feelings ' — no, that is too familiar — ' making allowances for an irritability — ' " " I don't think you can say that, Skeff. He has now been seven weeks in confinement." '" Lucky dog that he has not been seven weeks worked almost to a skeleton, like me, with the cares of a whole nation on my head, and the eyes of Europe upon me." '' Just let me say that you will look into his case, and do your best to get him out of prison." " With all my heart. It is fearfully undignified; but let it go, and I '11 send off a messenger to the Prefetto Lanzi to deliver up the prisoner M'Gruder to me to-morrow morning, and we will interrogate him here." The roll of a drum was now heard in the street without, and from the balcony could be seen an immense crowd of people moving in front of an infantry regiment, who marched past, travel-stained and disordered, and with an indescribable something in their air that indicated, it might be defeat, it might be disaffection. "Here's strange news," said Sir Arthur, as he joined them. " The landlord tells me Garibaldi has landed in Calabria, near Reggio, beaten the royal troops, and is in full march on Naples. The regiment that you see there were ordered off to reinforce the advanced guard, but cried out, ' Viva Garibaldi ! ' and have been now recalled, and are to be sent into the fortress." "Look!" cried Skeff; "here comes the Artillery after them, a strong proof that they don't trust these fellows. Bella, I must write off the news at once." " Let me first finish about M'Gruder," said she, as she sat down to the table. " I wish we were all safe back in England," said Lady Lyle, as she came up. " I was just thinking the very same thing," said Sir Arthur. "Have no fears," interposed Skeffy ; "I shall order up 478 TONY BUTLER. the fleet from Malta. You shall have a frigate — a line-of- battle ship, if you like it better." '' I'd much rather we had post-horses aud au escort," said Lady Lyle. " AYould that be possible. Darner? " " All is possible, Sir Arthur, to power properly exercised. I '11 go down at once to the AYai- Office, aud see what cau be done." ''If it were perfectly safe," said Bella, " I should like to drive through the streets and see what is going on ; and as Alice refuses to go out, we are just enough for one carriage." The project was agreed to, all the more readily that Skeff assured them his presence was an aegis that all parties would know how to respect ; he was, in fact, as he put it, a sort of emblematized British lion, who with folded paws was about to take an airing for his own amusement. " As we drive along," w^hispered he to Bella, " just watch the recognitions fellows will throw me, — a look, a gesture, a sign, scarcely perceptible, but enough to say, ' Your Ex- cellency may depend upon us.' " And Bella felt a certain elation at the thought that she was the chosen one of a man so eminent and so distin- guished. And, oh dear, let us not be severe upon her for it! If we could not make occasional swans of our geese in this life, we should be very ill off in matters of ornithology. Away they drove down the Chiaja and up the Toledo, where, amidst wild yells and cries for the King, and at times for Garibaldi, a dense mass of people surged and swaj^ed like a mighty monster awaking out of slumber and arousing to deeds of violence. The populace seemed intoxicated, but not with wine or with joy, but a sort of dare-devil recklessness which sought something — anything — to vent its passion upon. Lines of men linked arm in arm, and, filling the full breadth of the street, marched rapidly on, chanting wild songs ; and it was strange to mark in these the old gra^^-headed feeble man coupled with the stalwart youth, or, perhaps, the mere boy. Here and there were groups listening to some street-orator, now greeting his words with a cheer, now with a burst of vociferous laughter; and through all these went other men, UNPLEASANT RECKONINGS. 479 busily, eagerly whispering to this, conferring with that, now exerting every effort of persuasiveness, now seeming to employ incentives to vengeance. Except the carriage where sat the Lyles, not another vehicle of any kind was to be seen; and as the horses moved slowly along through the dense crowd, many a rude jest and droll comment was passed upon the matti Inglesl, — the mad English, — who had taken such a time and place for a carriage airing. Nor was the courage of the act unrecognized, and twice or thrice a wild cheer proclaimed what they thought of a nation whose very ladies were above all fear and timidity. The most striking feature in all this tumult was that soldiers were seen everywhere mixed up with the civilians; not merely furloughed men in undress, but soldiers in full uniform and perfectly armed, but yet displaying, sometimes ostentatiously, by the way they carried their shakoes or their bayonets, or wore their coats open and unbuttoned, that they no longer respected the claims of discipline. Patrols on foot or horseback would be met, too; but the men, under no restraint, would not only exchange words of greeting with the mob, but accept offers of wine or cigars; and it was seen that the officers were either powerless to prevent or unwilling to curb this indiscipline. ''What does all this portend, Damer?" asked Sir Arthur. " We hear cheers for the King ; but all I see seems to threaten his downfall." Skeffy was puzzled, and a wiser man might have been puzzled; but his diplomatic instincts forbade such a humili- ating avowal, and so he merely muttered something to the purport that "We" had not fully determined what was to be the issue; and that till "We "had made up our minds, all these signs and portents were mere street-noises. If I am not perfectly just to him in this rendering of his explanation, I am, at least, merciful to my reader; and, leaving the party to follow out the exploration, I shall return to the drawing-room they had just quitted, and where Alice now sat alone, and deep in thought. The yells and cries that filled the street outside, and the continual uproar that resounded through the city, were all unheeded by her; and 480 TONY BUTLER. so immersed was she in her reflection, that when a servant entered the room to present the card of a visitor, she was unaware of his presence till he had twice addressed her. "It cannot be for us," said she, looking at the name. "I do not know the Count d'Amalfi." "He hopes to be better remembered as Mr. Maitland," said that gentleman, as, pushing wide the half-opened door, he approached her and made a low bow. The servant had time to retire and shut the door before Alice had sutticiently recovered herself to ask Maitland to be seated. So coldly was the request conveyed, however, that if he was not determined on having an interview, he would have affected to make his call an offer of some sort of attention, and taken his leave almost on the instant. Far different were his present intentions; and as he depos- ited his hat and cane, and took his place in front of her, there was a methodical slowness that indicated purpose. "I am almost afraid to tell you, Mr. Maitland," she began, "that I gave orders to be denied to all visitors. They have all gone out to drive, and — " "It was for that reason that I took this opportunity to call, madam," said he, very quietly, but in a tone of some decision. "I desired to see you all alone." "Not, surely, if you were aware that I did not receive?" "Do not oblige me to convict m^'self, IMrs. Trafford; for I, too, shall be almost afraid to tell the truth ; " and a very faint smile moved his mouth as he spoke. "But, as I conjecture, you would like to meet my father — " "My visit at present is for 3'ou," said he, interrupting; "and as I cannot assure myself how long the opportunity may last, let me profit by it." She became very pale; some fear she certainly felt; but there was more of anger than fear in the thought that this man was, by his manner, almost asserting a right to see and speak with her. "Mr. Maitland is too accomplished a man of the world to need being told that, when a person has declared an indisposition to receive, it is usually deemed enough to secure privacy." UNPLEASANT RECKONINGS. 481 "Usually, — 3'es; but there are occasions which are not in this category." "And do you mean to say this is one of them, sir?" said she, haughtily. ''Most certainly, madam, this is one of them! " As Mait- land said this, he saw the color mount to her face ; and he saw, too, how, now that her proud spirit was, as it were, challenged, she would not think of retreat, but brave him, whatever might come of it. "Indeed! " said she, with a scornful laugh, — "indeed! " and the last syllable was drawn out in an accent of most insolent irony. "Yes, madam," he continued, in a tone perfectly calm and unimpassioned; "our last relations together fully war- rant me to say so much; and however presumptuous it might have been in me to aspire as I did, the gracious favor with which I was listened to seemed to plead for me." "AYhat favor do you speak of, sir?" said she, with evident agitation. "I must not risk the faint hope that remains to me, by recalling what you may not wish to remember; but I may at least ask you to bring to mind a certain evening — a certain night — when we walked together in the garden at Tilney." "I do not think I am likely to forget it, sir; some anony- mous slanderer has made it the pretext of a most insolent calumny. I do not, I need not say, connect 3^ou in any way with this base scandal ; but it is enough to make the incident the reverse of a pleasant memory." "And yet it was the happiest of my whole life." " It is unfortunate, sir, that we should look back to an event with feelings so diametrically opposite." Maitland gave no heed to the irony of her tone, but went on: "If I was conscious of my own unworthiness, I had certain things in my favor which sers^ed to give me courage, — not the least of these was your brother's friendship." "Mark was always proud of being Mr. Maitland's friend," said she, rather touched by this haughty man's humilit}^ "That friendship became very precious to me when I knew his sister. Indeed, from that hour I loved him as a brother. " 31 482 TONY BUTLER. "Forgive me, sir, if I interrupt you. At the time to which you allude we would seem to have been living in a perfect realm of misconceptions. Surely it is not necessary to revive them; surely, now that we have awoke, we need not take up the clew of a dream to assist our reflections." "What maybe the misconceptions you refer to?" said he, with a voice much shaken and agitated. "One was, it would appear, that Mr. Maitland made me certain professions. Another, that he was — that he had — that is, that he held — I cannot say it, sir; and I beg you to spare me what a rash temper might possibly provoke me to utter." "Say all that you will; I loved you, Alice." "You will force me to leave you, sir, if 3'OU thus forget yourself." "1 loved you, and I love you still. Do not go, I beg, I implore you. As the proof of how I love you, I declare that I know all that you have heard of me, all that you have said of me, — everj^ harsh and cruel word. Ay, Alice, I have read them as your hand traced them, and through all, I love you." "I will not stoop to ask how, sir; but I will say that the avowal has not raised you in my estimation." "If I have not your love, I will never ask for j^our esteem ; I wanted 3^our affection as a man wants that which would make his life a reality. I could have worked for you; I could have braved scores of things I have ever shrunk from; and I had a right to it." "A right! — what right?" "The right of him who loved as I did, and was as ready to prove his love. The man who has done what I have is no adventurer, though that fair hand wrote him one. Re- member that, madam ; and remember that you are in a land where men accept no such slights as this you would pass upon me." His eyes glared with passion as he spoke, and his dark cheeks grew purple. "Y^ou are not without those who must answer for your levity." "Now, sir, I leave 3^ou," said she, rising. "Not yet. Y^ou shall hear me out. I know why you have treated me thus falsely. I am aware who is my rival." UNPLEASANT RECKONINGS. 483 *'Let me pass, sir." He placed his back to the door, and folded his arms on his breast; but though he made au immense effort to seem calm, his lip shook as he spoke. "You shall hear me out. I tell you, I know my rival, and I am ready and prepared to stake my pretensions against his." "Go on, sir, go on; very little more in this strain will efface any memory I preserved of what you first appeared to me." "Oh, Alice! " cried he, in a voice of deep anguish. "It is despair has brought me to this. When I came, I thought I could have spoken with calm and self-restraint; but when I saw you — saw what I once believed might have been mine — I forgot all — all but my misery." "Suffer me to pass out, sir," said she, coldly. He moved back, and opened the door wide, and held it thus as she swept past him, without a word or a look. Maitland pressed his hat deep over his brow, and de- scended the stairs slowly, one by one. A carriage drove to the door as he reached it, and his friend Caftarelli sprang out and grasped his hand. "Come quickly, Maitland!" cried he. "The King has left the palace. The arm}^ is moving out of Naples to take up a position at Capua. All goes badly. The fleet is wavering, and Garibaldi passed last night at Salerno." "And what do I care for all this? Let me pass." "Care for it! It is life or death, cnro mio ! In two hours more the populace will tear in pieces such men as you and myself, if we 're found here. Listen to those yells, Morte ai Beali! Is it with ' Death to the Royalists!' ringing in our ears we are to linger here? " "This is as good a spot to die in as another," said IMait- land; and he lighted his cigar and sat down on the stone bench beside the door. "The Twenty-fifth of the Line are in open revolt, and the last words of the King were, ' Give them to Maitland, and let him deal with them.' " Maitland shrugged his shoulders, and smoked on. "Genario has hoisted the cross of Savoy over the fort at 484 TONY BUTLER. Baia," continued the other, "and no one can detennine what is to be done. They all say, 'Ask Maitland.' " "Imitate him! Do the same over the Royal Palace!" said the other, mockingly. "There, there! Listen to that cry! The mob are pour- ing down the Chiaja. Come away." "Let us look at the scoundrels," said Maitland, taking his friend's arm, and moving into the street. Caffarelli pushed and half lifted him into the carriage, and they drove off at speed. CHAPTER LIV. SKEFF DAMER TESTED. When the Lyles returned from their drive, it was to find that Alice was too ill to come down to dinner. She had, she said, a severe headache, and wished to be left perfectly quiet and alone. This was a sore disappointment to Bella, brimful of all she had seen and heard, and burning with impatience to impart how Skeffy had been sent for by the King, and what he said to his Majesty, and how the royal plans had been modified by his sage words ; and, in fact, that the fate of the Neapolitan kingdom was at that moment in the hands of that "gifted creature." It was such she called him ; and I beg my kind reader not to think the less of her that she so magnified her idol. The happiest days of our lives are the least real, just as the evils which never befall us are the greatest. Bella was sincerely sorry for her sister's headache; but with all that, she kept stealing every now and then into her room to tell what Skeff said to Caraffa, and the immense effect it produced. "And then, dearest," she went on, "we have really done a great deal to-day. "We have sent off three ' formal despatches,' and two ' confidentials,' and Skeff has told my Lord B., Secretary of State though he be, a piece of his mind, — he does write so ably when he is roused ; and he has declared that he will not carry out his late instructions. Few men would have had courage to say that; but they know that, if Skeff liked, he has only to go into Parliament: there are scores of boroughs actually fight- ing for him; he would be positively terrible in opposition." A deep wearied sigh was all Alice's response. "Yes, dearest, I'm sure I am tiring you; but I must tell how we liberated Mr. M'Gruder. He has been, he says, 486 TONY BUTLER. fifty- three days in prison, and really he looks wretched. I might have felt more for the man, but for the cold good-for- nothing way he took all Skeff's kindness. Instead of burst- ing with gratitude, and calling him his deliverer, all he said was, 'Well, sir, I think it was high time to have done this, which, for aught I see, might just as easily have been done three or, perhaps, four weeks ago.' Skeff was magnificent; he only waved his hand, and said, ' Go ; you are free ! ' 'I know that well enough,' said he, in the same sturdy voice; ' and I intend to make use of my freedom to let the British people know how I have been treated. You '11 see honorable mention of it all, and yourself, too, in the " Times," before ten days are over. ' " "My dear Bella, my head is racking; would you just wet that handkerchief and lay it on m}- forehead ? " "My poor sweet Alice! and I so cruel, with all my stupid stories; but I thought you 'd like to hear about Tony." "Tony! — what of Tony? " asked she, raising herself on one elbow and looking up. "Well, dearest, it was while in search after Tony that M'Gruder got imprisoned. They were sworn friends, it seems. You know, dear, Tony was never very particular in his choice of friends." "But what of him, — where is he? " "I '11 tell you everything, if you '11 only have a little patience. Tony, who was living with M'Gruder in Leg- horn, — a partner, I think, in some odious traffic, — cast-off clothes, 1 believe, — grew tired of it, or got into debt, or did something that brought him into trouble, and he ran away and joined that mad creature Garibaldi." "Well, go on." "Well, he had not been gone more than ten days or so, when a lawyer came out from England to sa}' that his uncle. Sir Somebody Butler, had died and left him all he had, — a fine estate, and I don't know bow much money. When Mr. M'Gruder was quite satisfied that all this was true, — and, like a canny Scotchman, he examined it thoroughl}^, — he set off himself to find Tony and tell him his good news ; for, as he said, it would have been a terrible thing to let him go risk his life for nothing, now that he had a splendid SKEFF DAMER TESTED. 487 fortune and large estate. Indeed, you should have heard Mr. M'Gruder himself on this theme. It was about the strangest medley of romance and worldliness I ever listened to. After all, he was a stanch friend, and he braved no common dangers in his pursuit. He had scarcely landed, however, in Sicily, when he was arrested and thrown into prison." "And never met Tony? " "Xever, — of course not; how could he? He did not even dare to speak of one who served under Garibaldi till he met Skeff3^" "But where is Tony? Is he safe? How are we to hear of him?" asked Alice, hurriedly. "Skeff has undertaken all that, Alice. You know how he has relations with men of every party, and is equally at home with the wildest followers of Mazzini and the cour- tiers about the throne. He says he '11 send off a confiden- tial messenger at once to Garibaldi's camp with a letter for Tony. Indeed, it was all I could do to prevent him go- ing himself, he is so attached to Tony, but I begged and implored him not to go." "Tony would have done as much for him," said Alice, gloomily. "Perhaps he would; but remember the difference between the men, Alice. If anything should befall Skeffy, who is there to replace him?" Alice, perhaps, could not satisfactorily answer this, for she lay back on her bed, and covered her face with her hands. "Not, indeed, that he would listen to me when I made that appeal to him, but he kept on repeating, * Tony is the finest, truest-hearted fellow I ever met. He 'd never have left a friend in the lurch; he'd never have thought of him- self if another was in danger; and help him I must and will: ' and that's the reason we are waiting dinner, dear, for he would go off to the Minister of War or the President of the Council; and he told papa, as he shook hands, on no account to wait for him, for he might be detained longer than he expected." As she spoke, a tap came to the door, and a servant announced dinner. 488 TONY BUTLER. "Has Mr. Darner arrived? " asked Bella, eagerly. "No, ma'am, but Sir Arthm' has just got a note from him." "I must see what he sa3^s! " cried she, and left the room. Sir Arthur was reading the letter when she entered. "Here's Skeff gone off to what he calls the ' front;' he says that Tony Butler has joined the insurgents, and he must get him out of their hands at any price." "But of course, papa, you '11 not permit it; you '11 forbid him peremptorily," broke in Bella. "I 'm not so sr.re of that, Bella; because, amongst other reasons, I 'm not so sure he 'd mind me. Our gifted friend is endowed with considerable self-will." "Immense determination, I should rather call it, papa; but, pray, try to stop this mad freak. He is not certainly called on to expose such a life as his, and at such a moment." "What am I to do?" "Go over to him at once; declare that you have the right to speak on such a subject. Say that if he is pleased to overlook the necessity of his presence here at this crisis, he ought to remember his position with regard to us, — ought to think of me," said she, with a burst of grief that ended in a shower of tears, and drove her from the room. Sir Arthur was far more disposed to sit down to his dinner than go off on this mission of affection; but Lady Lyle took the same view of the case as her daughter, and there was no help for it. And although the bland butler repeated, "Soup is served, sir," the poor man had to step downstairs to his carriage and drive off to the Legation. On arriving there, he learned that his Excellency had gone to see the Prime Minister. Sir Arthur set off in the pursuit, which led him from one great office of the state to another, always to discover that the object of his search had just left only five minutes before; till, at length, his patience became exhausted on hearing that Mr. Damer was last seen in company with an officer of rank on the road to Castelamare, whither, certainly, he determined not to follow him. It was near nine o'clock when he got home to report him- SKEFF DAMER TESTED. 489 self unsuccessful, to meet dark looks from his wife and daughter, and sit down alone to a comfortless dinner, chagrined and disconcerted. Lady Lvle tried to interest him by relating the news of Tony Butler's accession to fortune; but the re-heated mutton and the half-cold entrees were too trying to leave any portion of his nature open to such topics, and he sulkily muttered something about the folly of " having snubbed the young fellow," — a taunt Lady L34e resented by rising and leaving him to his own reflections. And now to turn to Skeff Damer. I am forced to con- fess, and I do not make the confession without a certain pain, that our gifted friend had not that amount of accep- tance with the Ministers of the King that his great talents and his promise might be supposed to have inspired; nor had he succeeded in acquiring for the country he represented the overwhelming influence he believed to be her due. When, therefore, he drove to Caraffa's house, the Prince frankly told him, what certainl3' was true, that he had affairs far too weighty on his mind to enter upon that small question H. M.'s Charge d' Affaires desired to discuss. "Try Carini," said he, ''the Minister of Grace and Justice; he looks after the people who break the law." Skeff grew angry, and the Minister bowed him out. He went in suc- cession to some five or six others, all occupied, all over- whelmed with cares, troubles, and anxieties. At last, by a mere accident, he chanced upon Filangieri going off to wait on the King; he was accompanied by a small man, in a very gorgeous uniform, studded over with stars and decorations. In a few hurried words Skeff told how his friend, a man of rank and fortune, had been seduced b}^ some stupid representations to take senice with Garibaldi, and that it was all-important to rescue him from such evil associations, and restore him at once to his friends and country. "Where is he?" "Wherever Garibaldi may be, — I can't tell." "He's nearer than we like," said the other, with a faint smile. "Are you sure your friend will return with you, even if you should track him out? " 490 TONY BUTLER. "I think I can answer for him. I am almost certain that I can." "Can you answer for Garibaldi, too? — will he give him up?" "I believe Garibaldi cares a great deal for the good opin- ion of England; and when he sees me^ her Majesty's — " "Yes, yes, I can understand that. Well, I have no time to give you for more consideration of the matter; but I '11 do better. I'll give you this gentleman, — my aide-de- camp. Colonel the Count M'Caskey; he'll pass you through our lines, and go, as flag of truce, to the head-quarters of the rebels. The whole thing is a blunder, and I am doing exceedingly wrong; but here we are, making one mistake after another every day, and all regularity and order are totally forgotten." Turning to M'Caskey, he took him aside for a few seconds and spoke eagerly and rapidly to him, and then, once more shaking Skeff's hand, he wished him well through his adventure and drove off. "Whenever you have all in readiness, sir," said M'Cas- key, slightly raising his hat, — "and I hope your carriage is a comfortable one, — take me up at the Aquila d' Oro, two doors from the Cafe di Spagno ; " uttering the words in a tone of such positive command that Skeffy had only to accede; and, coldly bowing to each other, they separated. CHAPTER LV. AMONGST THE GARIBALDIANS. By heavy bribery and much cajolery, Skeff Darner secured a carriage and horses, and presented himself at the Cafe di Spagua a little before midnight. It was not, however, till he had summoned M'Caskey for the third time that the gallant Colonel arose and joined him. " I suspect that waiter did not tell you I was here, and waiting for you?" said Skeff, somewhat irritated. *' I rather apprehend," replied M'Caskey, " that you were not aware I was at supper." With this brief passage of arms each sank back into his corner, and nothing more was said. For a long while the way led through that long suburb of Naples that lies on the south of the city, and the tramp of the horses over the pavement would have made any conver- sation difficult to hear. At length, however, they gained the smooth road, and then Skeff discovered, from the long- drawn breathings of his companion, that he was sound asleep. By the small wax taper with which he lighted his cigar, Skeff examined the features of the man ; and, brief as was the inspection, there was enough seen to show him that he was not a subject for either dictation or raillery. The hard, stern, thin-lipped mouth, the knitted brows, the orbits marked with innumerable wrinkles, and an ugly scar, evi- dently from a sabre, that divided one whisker, and reached from nigh the ear to the chin, presented enough to show that he might easily have chanced upon a more genial fellow- traveller. Skeff knew that the Neapolitan service had for some years back attracted adventurers from various countries. Poles, Americans, with Irish and Hungarian refugees, had 492 TOXY BUTLER. flocked to the scene of what they foresaw must be a struggle, and taken their side with the Royalists or against them as profit or inclination prompted. Now this man's name, M'Caskey, proclaimed him as Irish or Scotch ; and the chances were, in either case, if a renegade from his own country, he would not be over well disposed towards one who represented the might and majesty of England. " If I could onl}^ let him see," thought Skeff, " that I am one of those fellows who have done everything and know every one, a thorough man of the world, and no red-tapist, no official pendant, we should get on all the better." He puffed away at his cigar as he thus mused, turning over in his mind by what species of topic he should open acquaint- ance with his companion. '* That's good tobacco," said M'Caskey, without opening his e3'es. "Who's smoking the cheroot?" " I am. Ma}' I offer you one?" " A dozen if 3'ou like." said the Colonel, giving himself a shake, and sitting bolt upright. Skeff held out his cigar-case, and the other coolly emptied it, throwing the contents into his hat, which lay on the cushion in front of him. " AVhen old Olozaga was Captain-General of Cuba, he always supplied me with havannahs ; but when O'Donnell's part}' came into power, I came down to cheroots, and there I have been ever since. These are not bad." "They are considered particilarly good, sir," said Skeff, coldly. " That I will not say; but I own I am not easy to please either in wine, women, or tobacco." " You have had probably large experiences of all three? " " I should like much to meet the man who called himself my equal." " It might be presumptuous in me. perhaps, to stand for- ward on such ground ; but I, too, have seen something of life." " You! you! " said M'Caskey, with a most frank imper- tinence in his tone. "Yes, sir, I, I, — Mr. Skeffington Darner. Her Majesty's Representative and Charge d' Affaires at this Court." AMONGST THE GARIBALDIANS. 493 *' Where the deuce was it I heard ^^our name? Darner — Darner — Skeff — Skeffy — I think they called you ? "Who could it be that mentioned you ? " " Not impossibly the newspapers, though I suspect they did not employ the familiarity you speak of." "Well, Skeff, what's all this business we're bent on? What wildgoose chase are we after here?" Damer was almost sick with indignation at the fellow's freedom ; he nearly burst with the effort it cost him to repress his passion ; but he remembered how poor Tony Butler's fate lay in the balance, and that if anything should retard his journey by even an hour, that one hour might decide his friend's destiny. " Might I take the liberty to observe, sir, that our ac- quaintance is of the very shortest ; and until I sliall desire, which I do not anticipate, the privilege of addressing you by your Christian name — " "I am called Milo," said M'Caskey ; "but no man ever called me so but the late Duke of Wellington ; and once, indeed, in a moment of enthusiasm, poor Byron." " I shall not imitate them, and I desire that you may know me as Mr. Damer." " Damer or Skeffy — I don't care a rush which — only tell me where are we going, and what are we going for ? " Skeff proceeded in leisurely fashion, but with a degree of cold reserve that he hoped might check all freedom, to ex- plain that he was in search of a young countryman, whom he desired to recall from his service with Garibaldi, and restore to his friends in England. " And you expect me to cross over to Garibaldi's lines?" asked M'Caskey, with a grin. " I certainly reckon on your accompanying me wherever I deem it essential to proceed in furtherance of my object. Your General said as much when he offered me your services." " No man disposes of M'Caskey but the Sovereign he serves." " Then I can't see what you have come for ! " cried Skeff, angrily. "Take care, take care," said the other, slowly. 494 TONY BUTLER. *' Take care of what? " " Take care of Skeffington Damer, who is running his head into a very considerable scrape. I have the most tenacious of memories ; and there 's not a word — not a syllable — falls from you, I '11 not make you accountable for hereafter." " If you imagine, sir, that a tone of braggadocio — " " There you go again. Braggadocio costs blood, my young fellow." " I 'm not to be bullied." " No ; but you might be shot." "You'll find me as ready as yourself with the pistol." "I am charmed to hear it, though I never met a fellow brought up at a desk that was so." Skeff was by no means deficient in courage, and, taken with a due regard to all the conventional usages of such cases, he would have "met his man" as became a gentle- man ; but it was such a new thing in his experiences to travel along in a carriage arranging the terms of a duel with the man who ought to have been his pleasant companion, and who indeed, at the very moment, was smoking his cheroots, that he lost himself in utter bewilderment and confusion. "What does that small flask contain?" said M'Caskey, pointing to a straw-covered bottle, whose neck protruded from the pocket of the carriage. " Cherry brandy," said Skeff, dryly, as he buttoned the pocket-flap over it. "It is years upon years since I tasted that truly British cordial." Skeff made no reply. "They never make it abroad, except in Switzerland, and there, too, badly." Still Skeff was silent. " Have you got a sandwich with you? " "There is something eatable in that basket, — I don't know what," said Skeff, pointing to a little neatly corded hamper. " But I thought you had just finished supper when I drove up." " You 're a Londoner, I take it," said M'Caskey. (( AMONGST THE GAKIBALDIANS. 495 Why so, sir ? for what reason do you suppose so ? " The man who reminds another of the small necessity there is to press him to take something — be it meat or drink — must be a Cockney." " I am neither a Cockney, nor accustomed to listen to impertinence." " Hand me j^our flask and I '11 give you my opinion of it, and that will be better than this digression." The impudence seemed superhuman, and in this way over- came all power of resistance ; and Skeff}^ actual!}^ sat there looking on while M'Caskey cut, the cords of the little provision-basket, and arranged the contents on the front seat of the carriage, assuring him, as he ate, that he "had tasted worse." For some time the Major continued to eat and drink, and was so completely immersed in this occupation as to seem quite oblivious of his companion. He then lighted his cigar and smoked on till they reached Caserta, where the carriage halted to change horses. "The fellow is asking for something for the ostler," said M'Caskey, nudging Skeffy with his elbow as he spoke. "My servant, sir, looks to these details," said Skeffy, haughtily. *'Take these, old boy," said M'Caskey, pitching out to him the basket with the fragments of his late meal, and the silver forks and cup it contained ; and the horses whirled the carriage along at full speed as he did so. "You are perfectly munificent, sir," cried Skeff, angrily, *'with what does not belong to you. The proprietor of the Hotel d' Universo will probably look to you for payment for his property." "If your friend of the Universo has a salt spoon of his own this time to-morrow, he '11 be a lucky dog." "How so? What do j'ou mean?" "I mean, sir, that as the troops withdraw, pillage will begin. There is but one force in Naples that could control a mob." "And that is?" "The Camorra! and but one man could command the Camorra, and he is here! " 496 TONY BUTLER. "Indeed!" said Skeff, with the very faintest possible sarcasm. "As I tell you, sir. Colonel M'Caskey might have saved that city; and, instead of it, he is rumbling along over a paved road, going heaven knows where, with heaven knows whom, for heaven knows what! " "You are either rude or forgetful, sir. I have already told you my name and quality." "So you have, Skeff; but as a man rises in the service, he forgets the name of the uncommissioned officers. You are attache, or what is it?" "I am Charge d' Affaires of Great Britain." "And devilish few will be the affairs you '11 have in your charge this day week." "How do you make out that? " "First of all, if we are to pass through our lines to reach Garibaldi, all our fellows will fire a parting salute after us as we go, — ay, and with ball. Secondly, as we approach the rebels, the}^ '11 pay us the same attention." "Not with our flag of truce flying." "l^our flag of truce, Skeff y, will only show them that we come unarmed, and make their aim all the steadier in consequence." "And why was I told that your presence would be protec- tion?" "Because, sir, if it should fail to be, it is that no other man's in Europe could be such." "I '11 not turn back, if you mean that," said Skeff, boldly; and for the first time on the journey M'Caskey turned round and took a leisurely survey of his companion. "Y^ou are, I hope, satisfied with my personal appearance," said Skeff, insolently. "Washy, washy," said M'Caskey, dryly; "but I have met two or three of the same stamp who had pluck." "The freedom of your tongue, sir, inclines me very con- siderably to doubt i/ours.^^ M'Caskey made a bound on his seat, and threw his cigar through the window, while he shouted to the postilion to stop. "Why should he stop?" asked Skeff. AMONGST THE GARIBALDIANS. 497 "Let us settle this at once; we '11 take each of us one of the carriage lamps and fire at the word three. One — two — three! Stop, J say." ''No, sir; I shall hold myself at your orders, time and place fitting, but I '11 neither shoot uor be shot at like a brigand." "I have travelled with many men, but in my long and varied experience, I never saw a fellow so full of objec- tions. You oppose ever^'thing. Now 1 mean to go asleep; have you anything against that.^ and what is it?" "Nothing, — nothing whatever! " muttered Skeff, who for the first time heard words of comfort from his companion's lips. Poor Skeff! is it too much to say that, if you had ever imagined the possibility of such a fellow-traveller, you would have thought twice ere you went on this errand of friendship? Perhaps it might be unfair to allege so much; but unquestionably, if his ardor were not damped, his devo- tion to his friend was considerably disturbed by thoughts of himself and his own safety. "Where could this monster have come from? What land could have given him birth? What life had he led? How could a fellow of such insolent pretensions have escaped being flayed alive ere he reached the age he looked to be? Last of all, was it in malice and out of malevolence that Filangieri had given him this man as his guide, well know- ing what their companionship must end in? This last sus- picion, reassuring so far, as it suggested dreams of personal importance, rallied him a little, and at last he fell asleep. The hours of the night rolled over thus ; and just as the dawn was breaking the caleche rattled into the ruinous old piazza of Nocera. Early as it was, the market-place was full of people, amongst whom were many soldiers, with or without arms, but, evidently, under no restraint of discip- line, and, to all seeming, doubtful and uncertain what to do. Aroused from his sleep by the sudden stoppage of the carriage, M'Caskey rubbed his eyes and looked out. "What is all this?" cried he. "Who are these fellows I see here in uniform? What are they? " "Part of Cardarelli's brigade, your Excellenc}'," said a 32 498 TONY BUTLEK. cafe-keeper who had come to the carriage to induce the travellers to alight. "General Cardarelli has surrendered Soveria to Garibaldi, and his men have dispersed." "And is there no officer in command here to order these fellows into arrest?" cried M'Caskey, as he sprang out of the carriage into the midst of them. "Fall in!" shouted he, in a voice of thunder; "fall in, and be silent: the fellow who utters a word I '11 put a bullet through." If the first sight of the little fellow thus insolently issuing his orders might have inspired laughter, his fierce look, his flashing eye, his revolver in hand, and his coat Liazing with orders, speedily overcame such a sentiment, and the dis- orderly rabble seemed actually stunned into deference before him. "What! " cried he, "are you deserters? Is it with an enemy in front that I find you here? Is it thus that you show these civilians what stuff soldiers are made of?" There was not a degrading epithet, not a word of infamous reproach, he did not hurl at them. They were Vili! Bir- banti! Ladri! Malandrini! Codardi! They had dishonored their fathers and mothers, and wives and sweethearts. They had degraded the honor of the soldier, and the Virgin herself was ashamed of them. "Who laughs there? Let him come out to the front and laugh here ! " cried he. And now, though a low murmur little indicative of mirth ran through the crowd, strange to say, the men began to slink away, at first one by one, then in groups and parties, so that in very few minutes the piazza was deserted, save b}^ a few of the townsfolk, who stood there half terrified, half fascinated, by the daring insolence of this diminutive hero. Though his passion seemed almost choking him, he went on with a wonderful fluency to abuse the whole nation. They were brigands for three centuries, and brigands they would be for thirty more, if Providence would not send an earthquake to swallow them up, and rid the world of such rascals. He scoffed at them, he jeered them ; he told them that the few Sicilians that followed Garibaldi would make slaves of the whole kingdom, taking from the degenerate cowards of Calabria wives, daughters, home, and house- holds; and it was only when the last straggler shuflfled slowly AMONGST THE GARIBALDIANS. 499 away, and be stood alone in the square, that he would con- sent to re-enter the carriage and pursue his journey. "I'll know every face amongst them if I meet them again," said he to Skeffy, "and it will be an evil day for the scoundrels when that time comes." His wrath continued during the entire stage, and never flagged in its violence till they reached a cluster of poor cabins, around which a guard of soldiers was stationed. Here they were refused a further passage, since at Maurc, three miles further on, Melani, with a force of three thousand men and some guns, held the pass against the Garibaldians. M'Caskey was not long in explaining who he was, nor, indeed, very modest in proclaiming his personal importance; and the subaltern, with every show of deference to such greatness, detached a corporal of his guard to accompany them to the General's quarters. The General was asleep when they reached Mauro; he had been, they said, "up all night," but they did not add it was in the celebration of an orgie, in which the festivities were more classic than correct. M'Caskey, however, learned that at about five miles in front, Gari- baldi's advanced guard was posted, and that Garibaldi him- self had ridden up and reconnoitred their position on the evening before. "AVe expect to be attacked by noon," said the officer, in a tone the very reverse of hopeful or encouraging. "You can hold this pass against twenty thousand," said M'Caskey. "We shall not try," said the other. "Why should we be the only men to get cut to pieces ? " The ineffable scorn of the little Colonel as he turned away was not lost on the other; but he made no reply to it, and retired. "We are to have an escort as far as Ravello; after that we are to take care of ourselves; and I own to you I think we shall be all the safer when we get out of the reach of his Majesty's defenders." "There," cried the Sergeant who acted as their guard, — "there, on that rock yonder, are the Reds. I'll go no further." And as they looked they saw a small group of red-shirted fellows lying or lounging on a small cliff which rose abruptly 500 TONY BUTLER. over a stream crossed by a wooden bridge. Attaching bis handkerchief to his walking-stick, M'Caskey stepped out boldly. Skeffy followed; they reached the bridge, and crossed it, and stood within the lines of the Garibaldians. A very young, almost boyish-looking, officer met them, heard their story, and with much courtesy told them that he would send one of his men to conduct them to head-quarters. "You will not find the General there," said he, smiling; "he's gone on in that direction;" and he pointed, as he spoke, towards Naples. Skeff asked eagerly if the young officer had ever heard of Tony Butler, and described with ardor the handsome face and figure of his friend. The other believed he had seen him. There was, he knew, a glovane Irlandese who was wounded at Melazzo, and, if he was not mistaken, wounded again about four days back at Lauria. "All the wounded are at Salerno, however," said he, carelessly, "and you are sure to find him amonost them." CHAPTER LVI. THE HOSPITAL AT CAYA. Had Skeff been in any mood for mirth, he might have en- joyed as rich drollery the almost inconceivable impertinence of his companion, who scrutinized everything, and freely distributed his comments around him, totally regardless that he stood in the camp of the enemy, and actually surrounded by men whose extreme obedience to discipline could scarcely be relied on. "Uniformity is certainly not studied here," cried M'Cas- key, as he stared at a guard about to be detached on some duty; *' three fellows have gray trousers; two, blue, one a sort of canvas petticoat ; and I see only one real coat in the party." A little further on he saw a group of about a dozen lying on the grass smoking, with their arms in disorderly fashion about, and he exclaimed, " How I 'd like to surprise those rascals, and make a swoop down here with two or three companies of Cacciatori! Look at their muskets; there has n't been one of them cleaned for a month. *'Here they are at a meal of some sort. Well, men won't fight on beans and olive oil. My Irish fellows are the only devils can stand up on roots." These comments were all delivered in Italian, and listened to with a sort of bewildered astonishment, as though the man who spoke them must possess some especial and pecu- liar privilege to enable him to indulge so much candor. "That's not a knapsack," said he, kicking a soldier's pack that he saw on the grass; "that's more like a trav- elling tinker's bundle. Open it, and let's see the inside! " cried he to the owner, who, awed by the tone of command, immediately obeyed ; and M'Caskey ridiculed the shreds and 502 • TONY BUTLER. patches of raiment, the tattered fragments of worn apparel, in which fragments of cheese and parcels of tobacco were rolled up. "Why, the fellows have not even risen to the dignity of pillage," said he. "I was sure we should have found some saintly ornament or a piece of the Virgin's petticoat among their wares." With all this freedom, carried to the extreme of imperti- nence, none molested, none ever questioned them; and as the guide had accidentally chanced upon some old friends by the way, he told M'Caskey that they had no further need of him; that the road lay straight before them, and that they would reach Cava in less than an hour. At Cava they found the same indifference. They learned that Garibaldi had not come up, though some said he had passed on with a few followers to Naples, and others main- tained that he had sent to the King of Naples to meet him at Salerno to show him the inutility of all resistance, and offer him a safe-conduct out of the kingdom. Leaving M'Caskey in the midst of these talkers, and not, perhaps, without some uncharitable wish that the gallant Colonel's bad tongue would involve him in serious trouble, Skeffy slipped away to inquire after Tony. Every one seemed to know that there was a brave Irlan- dese^ — a daring fellow who had shown himself in the thick of every fight; but the discrepant accounts of his per- sonal appearance and looks were most confusing. Ton}^ was fair-haired, and yet most of the descriptions represented a dark man, with a bushy black beard and moustache. At all events, he was lying wounded at the convent of the Cap- puccini, on a hill about a mile from the town; and Father Pantaleo — Garibaldi's Vicar, as he was called — offered his services to show him the way. The Frate — a talkative little fellow, with a fringe of curly dark-brown hair around a polished white head — talked away, as they went, about the war, and Garibaldi, and the grand future that lay before Italy, when the tyranny of the Pope should be overthrown, and the Church made as free — and, indeed, he almost said as easy — as any jovial Christian could desire. Skeffy, by degrees, drew him to the subject nearest his own heart at the moment, and asked about the wounded in THE HOSPITAL AT CAVA. 603 hospital. The Frate declared that there was nothing very serious the matter with any of them. He was an opti- mist. Some died, some suffered amputations, some were torn by shells or grape-shot. But what did it signify? as he said. It was a great cause they were fighting for, and they all agreed it was a pleasure to shed one's blood for Italy. ''As for the life up there," said he, pointing to the convent, "it is a vita da Santi^ — the 'life of saints themselves. ' " "Do you know my friend Tony the Irlandese?" asked Skeff, eagerly. "If I know him! Per Bacco ! I think I know him. I was with him when he had his leg taken off.'' Skeff' s heart sickened at this terrible news, and he could barely steady himself by catching the Fra's arm. "Oh, my poor dear Tony," cried he, as the tears ran down his face, — "my poor fellow! " "Why did you pity him? Garibaldi gave him his own sword, and made him an officer on the day of the battle. It was up at Calanzaro, so that he 's nearly well now." Skeff poured in innumerable questions, — how the mis- chance occurred, and w^here; how he bore up under the dreadful operation; in what state he then was; if able to move about, and how? And as the Fra was one of those who never confessed himself unable to answer anything, the details he obtained were certainly of the fullest and most circumstantial. "He's always singing; that's how he passes his time," said the Frate. "Singing! how strange! I never knew him to sing. I never heard him even hum a tune." "You '11 hear him now, then. The fellows about curse at him half the day to be silent, but he does n't mind them, but sings away. The only quiet moment he gives them is while he's smoking." "Ah, yes! he loves smoking." "There — stop. Listen. Do you hear him? he's at it now." Skeff halted, and could hear the sound of a full deep voice, from a window overhead, in one of those prolonged and melancholy cadences which Irish airs abound in. 504 TONY BUTLER. "Wherever he got such doleful music I can't tell, but he has a dozen chants like that." Though Skeff could not distinguish the sounds, nor recog- nize the voice of his friend, the thought that it was poor Tony who was there singing in his solitude, maimed and suffering, without one near to comfort him, so overwhelmed him that he staggered towards a bench, and sat down sick and faint. " Go up and say that a friend, a dear friend, has come from ISaples to see him; and if he is not too nervous or too much agitated, tell him my name; here it is." The friar took the card and hurried forward on his mission. In less time than Skeff thought it possible for him to have arrived, Pantaleo called out from the window, "Come along; he is quite ready to see you, though he doesn't remember 3'ou." Skeff fell back upon the seat at the last words. ''Not remember me! my poor Tony, — my poor, poor fellow, — how changed and shattered you must be, to have forgotten me! " With a great effort he rallied, entered the gate, and mounted the stairs, — slowly, indeed, and like one who dreaded the scene that lay before him. Pantaleo met him at the top, and, seeing his agitation, gave him his arm for support. "Don't be nervous," said he, "your friend is doing capitally; he is out on the terrace in an armchair, and looks as jolly as a cardinal." Summoning all his courage, Skeff walked bravely for- wards, passed down the long aisle, crowded with sick and wounded on either side, and passed out upon a balcony at the end, where, with his back towards him, a man sat look- ing out over the landscape. "Tony, Tony!" said Skeffy, coming close. The man turned his head, and Skeff saw a massive-looking face, all covered with black hair, and a forehead marked by a sabre cut. "This is not my friend. This is not Tony!" cried he, in disappointment. ^ "No, sir; I'm Rory Quin, the man that was with him," said the wounded man, submissively. "And where is he himself? Where is Tony?" cried he. j "In the little room beyond, sir. They put him there when he began to rave; but he 's better now, and quite sensible." THE HOSPITAL AT CAVA. 505 "Take me to him at once; let me see him," said Skeff, whose impatience had now mastered all prudence. The moment after, Skeff found himself in a small cham- ber, with a single bed in it, beside which a Sister of Char- ity was seated, busily employed laying cloths wet with iced water on the sick man's head. One glance showed that it was Tony. The eyes were closed, and the face thinner, and the lips dry; but there was a hardy manhood in the countenance, sick and suffering as he was, that told what qualities a life of hardship and peril had called into activity. The Sister motioned to Skeff to sit down, but not to speak. "He's not sleeping," said she, softly, "only dozing." "Is he in pain?" asked Skeffy. "No; I have no pain," said Tony, faintly. Skeff bent down to whisper some words close to his ear, when he heard a step behind. He looked up and saw it was M'Caskey, who had followed him. "I came here, sir," said the Colonel, haughtily, "to express my astonishment at your unceremonious departure, and also to say that I shall now hold myself as free of all further engagement towards you." "Hush, be quiet," said Skeff, with a gesture of caution. "Is that your friend?" asked M'Caskey, with a smile. Tony slowly opened his eyes at these words, looking at the speaker, turning his gaze then on Skeff, gave a weak, sickly smile, and then in a faint, scarce audible voice, said, "So he is your godfather, after all." Skeff's heart grew full to bursting, and for a moment or two he could not speak. "There — there, no more," whispered the Sister; and she motioned them both to withdraw. Skeff arose at once, and slipped noiselessly away; but the Colonel stepped boldly along, regardless of everything and every one. "He 's wandering in his mind," said M'Caskey, in a loud, unfeeling tone. "By all that 's holy, there 's the scoundrel I 'm dying to get at," screamed Rory, as the voice caught his ear. "Give me that crutch; let me have one lick at him, for the love of Mary." "They're all mad here, that's plain," said M'Caskey, 506 TONY BUTLER. turning away with a contemptuous air. "Sir," added he, turning towards Skeff , " I have the honor to salute you ; " and with a magnificent bow he withdrew, while Rory, in a voice of wildest passion and invective, called down innu- merable curses on his head, and inveighed even against the bystanders for not securing the "greatest villain in Europe." *'I shall want to send a letter to Naples," cried out Skeff to the Colonel; "I mean to remain here;" but M'Caskey never deigned to notice his words, but walked proudly down the stairs, and went his way. CHAPTER LYII. AT TONY'S bedside. My story draws to a close, and I have not space to tell how Skeft" watched beside his friend, rarely quitting him, and show- ing in a hundred ways the resources of a kind and thoughtful nature. Tony had been severely wounded ; a sabre-cut had severed his scalp, and he had been shot through the shoul- der ; but all apprehension of evil consequences was now over, and he was able to listen to Skeff's wondrous tidings, and hear all the details of his accession to wealth and for- tune. His mother — how she would rejoice at it ! how happy it would make her ! — not for her own sake, but for his ; how it would seem to repay to her all she had suffered from the haughty estrangement of Sir Omerod, and how proud she would be at the recognition, late though it came ! These were Tony's thoughts ; and very often, when Skeff imagined him to be following the details of his property, and listening with eagerness to the description of what he owned, Tony was far away in thought at the cottage beside the Causewa3% and longing ardentty when he should sit at the window with his mother at his side planning out some future in which they were to be no more separated. There was no elation at his sudden fortune, nor any of that anticipation of indulgence which Skeff himself would have felt, and which he indeed suggested. No. Tony's whole thoughts so much centred in his dear mother, that she entered into all his projects ; and there was not a picture of enjoyment wherein she was not a foreground figure. They would keep the cottage, — that was his first resolve : his mother loved it dearly ; it was associated with years long of happiness and of trials too ; and trials can endear a spot when they are nobly borne, and the heart will cling fondly to 508 TONY BUTLER. that which has chastened its emotions and elevated its hopes. And then, Tony thought, the}^ might obtain that long stretch of land that lay along the shore, with the little nook where the boats lay at anchor, and where he would have his yacht, *' I suppose," said he, " Sir Arthur Lyle would have no objection to my being so near a neighbor ? " "Of course not; but we can soon settle that point, for they are all here." ''Here?" " At Naples, I mean." "How was it that you never told me that?" he asked sharply. Skeff fidgeted — bit his cigar — threw itnaway; and with more confusion than became so distinguished a diplomatist, stammered out, " I have had so much to tell you — such lots of news;" and then with an altered^ voice he added, "Be- sides, old fellow, the doctor warned me not to ssiy anything that might agitate you ; and I thought — that is, I used to think — there was something in that quarter, eh?" Tony grew pale, but made no answer. " I know she likes you, Tony," said Skeff, taking his hand and pressing it. ' ' Bella, who is engaged to me — I forget if I told you that — " " No, you never told me ! " "Well, Bella and I are to be married immediately, — that is, as soon as I can get back to England. I have asked for leave already; they've refused me twice. It's all very fine saying to me that I ought to know that in the present diffi- culties of Italy no man could replace m.e at this Court. My answer to that is : Skeff Damer has other stuff in him as well as ambition. He has a heart just as much as a head. Nor am I to go on passing my life saving this d^masty. The Bourbons are not so much to me as my own happiness, eh?" " I suppose not," said Tony, dryly. " You 'd have done the same, would n't you? " "I can't tell. I cannot even imagine myself filling any station of responsibility or importance." " My reply was brief : Leave for six months' time, to recruit an over-taxed frame and over- wrought intellect; time also for them to look out what to offer me, for I '11 not AT TONY'S BEDSIDE. 509 go to Mexico, nor to Rio ; neither will I take Washington, nor any of the Northern Courts. Dearest Bella must have climate, and I myself must have congenial society ; and so I said, not in such terms, but in meaning, Skeff Darner is only yours at his price. Let them refuse me, — let me see them even hesitate, and I give my word of honor, I 'm capable of abandoning public life altogether, and retiring into my woods at Tiluey, leaving the whole thing at sixes and sevens." Now, though Tony neither knew what the " whole thing'* meant, nor the dire consequences to which his friend's anger might have consigned it, he muttered something that sounded like a hope that he would not leave Europe to shift for her- self at such a moment. "Let them not drive me to it, that's all," said he, haughtily ; and he arose and walked up and down with an air of defiance. "The Lyles do not see this, — Lady Lyle especially. She wants a peerage for her daughter, but am- bition is not alwa^'s scrupulous." " I always liked her the least of them," muttered Tony, who never could forget the sharp lesson she administered to him. " She '11 make herself more agreeable to you now, Master Tony," said Skeff, with a dry laugh. " And why so? " " Can't you guess?" "No." " On 3^our word? ". " On my word, I cannot." "Don't you think Mr. Butler of something or other in Herefordshire is another guess man from Tony Butler of nowhere in particular?" " Ah ! I forgot my change of fortune : but if I had ever remembered it, I 'd never have thought so meanly of Jier." "That 'sail rot and nonsense. There's no meanness in a woman wanting to marry her daughter well, any more than in a man trying to get a colonelcy or a legation for his son. You were no match for Alice Trafford three months ago. Now both she and her mother will think differently of your pretensions." 510 TONY BUTLER. " Say what you like of the mother, but you shall not im- pute such motives to Alice." '' Doo't you get red in the face and look like a tiger, young man, or I '11 take my leave and send that old damsel here with the ice-pail to you." " It was the very thing I liked in you," muttered Tony, "that you never did impute mean motives to women." " My poor Tony ! the fellow who has seen life as I have, who knows the thing in its most minute anatomy, comes out of the investigation infernally case-hardened ; he can't help it. I love Alice. Indeed, if I had not seen Bella, I think I should have married Alice. There, you are getting turkey- cock again. Let us talk of something else. What the deuce was it I wanted to ask you? — something about that great Irish monster in the next room, the fellow that sings all day : where did you pick him up ? " Tony made no reply, but lay with his hand over his e3'es, while Skeff went on rambling over the odds and ends he had picked up in the course of Rory Quin's story, and the devoted love he bore to Tony himself. ''By the way, they say that it was for you Garibaldi intended the promotion to the rank of officer, but that you managed to pass it to this fellow, who could n't sign his name when they asked him for it." "If he couldn't write, he has left his mark on some of the Neapolitans!" said Tony, fiercely; "and as for the advancement, he deserved it far more than I did." " It was a lucky thing for that aide-de-camp of Filangieri who accompanied me here, that your friend Rory had n't got two legs, for he wanted to brain him with his crutch. Both of 3'ou had an antipathy to him, and indeed I own to concur- ring in the sentiment. My godfather 3'ou called him ! " said he, laughing. " I wish he had come a little closer to my bedside, that's all," muttered Tony; and SkefT saw b}" the expression of his features that he was once more unfortunate in his attempt to hit upon an unexciting theme. "Alice knew of your journey here, I think you said?" whispered Ton}^, faintly. " Yes. I sent them a few lines to say I was setting out to find 3'ou." AT TONY'S BEDSIDE. 511 *'How soon could I get to Naples? Do you think they would let me move to-morrow?" " I have asked that question already. The doctor says in a week ; and I must hasten away to-night, — there 's no saying what confusion my absence will occasion. I mean to be back here by Thursday to fetch you." "Good fellow! Remember, though," added he, after a moment, " we must take Rory. I can't leave Rory here." Skeff looked gravely. "He carried me when I was wounded out of the fire at Melazzo, and I am not going to desert him now." " Strange situation for her Majesty's Charge d' Affaires," said Skeff, — "giving protection to the wounded of the rebel army." " Don't talk to me of rebels. "We are as legitimate as the fellows we were fighting against. It was a good stand-up fight, too, — man to man, some of it ; and if it was n't that my head reels so when I sit or stand up, I 'd like to be at it again." " It is a fine bull- dog, — just a bull-dog," said Skeff, pat- ting him on the head, while in the compassionate pity of his voice he showed how humbly he ranked the qualities he ascribed to him. "Ah! now I remember what it was I wished to ask you (it escaped me till this moment) : who is the creature that calls himself Sam M'Gruder?" " As good a fellow as ever stepped, and a true friend of mine. What of him? " "Don't look as if you would tear me in pieces, and scatter the fragments to the four winds of heaven. Sir, I'll not stand it, — none of your buccaneering savageries to m« ! " Tony laughed, and laughed heartily at the air of offended dignity of the other; and Skeff was himself disposed at last to smile at his own anger. "That's the crying sin of yo2ir nature, Tony," said he. "It is the one defect that spoils a really fine fellow. I tell you frankly about it, because I 'm your friend; and if you don't curb it, you '11 never be any- thing, — never ! never ! " "But what is this fault? you have forgotten to tell it." "Over and over again have I told it. It is your stupid 512 TONY BUTLER. animal confidence in your great hulking form: your coarse reliauee on your massive shoulders, — a degenerate notion that muscle means manhood. It is here, sir, — here ; " and Skeff touched his forehead with the tip of his finger; "here lies the godlike attribute. And until you come to feel that, you never will have arrived at the real dignity of a gi'eat creature." "Well, if I be the friend of one, Skeffy, it will satisfy all my ambition," said he, grasping his hand warmly; "and flow what of M'Gruder? How did you come to know of him?" "Officially, — officially, of course. Skeffiugton Damer and Sam M'Gruder might revolve in ether for centuries and their orbits never cross! but it happened this honest fellow had gone off in search of you into Sicily; and with that blessed propensity for blundering the British subject ia gifted with, had managed to offend the authorities and get imprisoned. Of course he appealed to me. They all appeal to me! but at the moment unhappily for him, the King was appealing to ??i«e, and Cavour was appealing to me^ and so was the Emperor; and, I may mention in confidence, so was Gari- baldi! — not in person, but through a friend. I know these things must be. Whenever a fellow has a head on his shoulders in this world, the other fellows who have no heads find it out and work him. Ay, sir, work him! That 's why I have said over and over again the stupid dogs have the best of it. I declare to you, on my honor, Tony, there are days I 'd rather be you than be Skeff Damer! " Tony shook his head. "I know it sounds absurd, but I pledge you my sacred word of honor I have felt it." "And M'Gruder?" asked Tony. "M'Gruder, sir, I liberated! I said. Free him! and, like the fellow in Curran's celebrated passage, his chains fell to the ground, and he stood forward, not a bit grateful, — far from it, — but a devilish crusty Scotchman, telling me what a complaint he 'd lodge against me as soon as he arrived in England." "No, no; he 's not the fellow to do that." "If he did, sir, it would crush him! The Emperor of AT TONY'S BEDSIDE. 513 Russia could not prefer a complaint against Skeff Darner, and feel the better of it ! " "He's a true-hearted, fine fellow," said Tony. "With all my heart I concede to him all the rough virtues you may desire to endow him with; but please to bear in mind, Master Tony, that a man of your station and youi fortune cannot afford such intimacies as your friend Rory here and this M'Gruder creature." "Then I was a richer man when I had nothing, for I could afford it then," said Tony, sturdily; "and I tell you more, Skeffy, — I mean to afford it still. There is no fellow living I love better — no, nor as well — as I love yourself; but even for your love I '11 not give up the fine-hearted fellows who were true to me in my daj's of hardship, shared with me what they had, and gave me — what was better to me — their loving-kindness and sympathy." "You'd bring down the house if you said that in the Adelphi, Tony." "It 's well for you that I can't get out of bed," said Tony, with a grim laugh. "There it is again; another appeal to the brute man and the man brute! Well, I '11 go to dinner, and I '11 tell the fair Sister to prepare your barley-water, and administer it in a more diluted form than heretofore;" and, adjusting his hat so as to display a favorite lock to the best advantage, and drawing on his gloves in leisurely fashion, Skeff Damer walked proudly away, bestowing little benevolent gestures on the patients as he passed, and intimating by certain little signs that he had taken an interest in their several cases, and saying, by a sweet smile, "You '11 be the better of this visit of mine. You '11 see, you wuU." 33 CHAPTER LVIII. THE SIXTH OF SEPTEMBER. On the evening of the 6th of September a corvette steamed rapidly out of the Bay of Naples, threading her way devi- ously through the other ships of war, unacknowledged by salute, — not even an ensign dipped as she passed. "There goes the King and the monarchy," said Skefif, as he stood on the balcony with the Lyles, and pointed to the fast-retreating vessel. "I suppose the sooner we leave the better," said Lady Lyle, whose interest in political affairs was very inferior to that she felt on personal matters. "Skeff says that the ' Talisman ' will take us on board," said Sir Arthur. ''Yes," said Skeff; "Captain Paynter will be here by and by to take your orders, and know when he is to send in his boats for you; and though I feel assured my general directions will be carried out here, and that no public dis- turbance will take place, you will all be safer under the Union Jack." "And what of Tony Butler? When is he to arrive? " asked Bella. "Tony," said Skeff, "is to arrive here to-night. I have had a note from his friend M' Cruder, who has gone down to meet him, and is now at Salerno." "And who is his friend M' Cruder?" asked Lady Lyle, superciliously. "A rag-merchant from Leghorn," said Skeff; "but Tony calls him an out-and-out good fellow; and I must say he did n't take five minutes to decide when I told him Tony was coming up from Cava, and would be glad to have his company on the road." THE SIXTH OF SEPTEMBER. 515 "These are, of course, exceptional times, when all sorts of strange intimacies will be formed; but I do hope that Tony will see that his altered circumstances as to fortune require from him more care in the selection of his friends than he has hitherto been distinguished for." ''Don't trouble yourself about that, my dear," said Sir Arthur; "a man's fortune very soon impresses itself on all he sa3's and does." •'I mistake him much," said Bella, "if any wealth will estrange him from one of those he cared for in his humbler days. Don't you agree with me, Alice?" Alice made no reply, but continued to gaze at the ships through a glass. "The danger is that he'll carry that feeling to excess," said Skeff ; ''for he will not alone hold to all these people, but he '11 make you and me hold to them too." "That would be impossible, perfectly impossible," said my Lady, with a haughty toss of her head. "No, no; I cannot agree to go that far," chimed in Sir Arthur. "It strikes me," said Alice, quietly, "we are all of us deciding a little too hastily as to what Tony Butler will or will not do. Probably a very slight exercise of patience would save us some trouble." "Certainly not, Alice, after what Mr. Damer has said. Tony would seem to have thrown down a sort of defiance to us all. We must accept him with his belongings, or do without him." "He shall have ??^e on his own terms," said Skeflfy. "He is a noble savage, and I love him with all my heart." "And you will know his rag friend? " asked Lady Lyle. "Ay, that will I; and an Irish creature, too, that he calls Rory, — a fellow of six feet four, with a voice like an en- raged bull and a hand as wide as one of these flags ! " "It is Damon and Pythias over again, I declare!" said Lady Lyle. "Where did he pick up his monster?" "They met by chance in England, and, equally' b}- chance, came together to Italy, and Tony persuaded him to accom- pany him and join Garibaldi. The worthy Irishman, who loved fighting, and was not very particular as to the cause, 516 TONY BUTLER. agreed ; and though he had originally come abroad to serve in the Pope's army, some offence they had given him made him desert, and he was well pleased not to return home with- out, as he said, ' batin' somebody.' It was in this way he became a Garibaldian. The fellow, it seems, fought like a lion ; he has been five times wounded, and was left for dead on the field; but he bears a charm which he knows will always protect him." "A charm, — what is the charm? " "A medallion of the Pope, which he wears around his neck, and always kisses devoutly before he goes into battle." " The Pope's image is a strange emblem for a Garibaldian, surely," said Sir Arthur, laughing. "Master Rory thinks it will dignify any cause, and as he never knew what or for whom he was fighting, this small bit of copper saved him a world of trouble and casuistry; and so in the name of the Holy Father he has broken no end of Neapolitan skulls." "1 must say Mr. Butler has surrounded himself with some choice associates," said Lady Lyle; "and all this time I have been encouraging myself to believe that so very young a man would have had no connections, no social relations, he could not throw off without difficulty." "The world will do all his sifting process for him, if we only have patience," said Sir Arthur; and, indeed, it is but fair to say that he spoke with knowledge, since, in his own progress through life, he had already made the acquaintance of four distinct and separate classes in society, and aban- doned each in turn for that above it. "Was he much elated, Mr. Damer," asked Lady Lyle, "when he heard of his good fortune?" "I think he was at first; but it made so little impression on him, that more than once he went on to speculate on his future, quite forgetting that he had become independent; and then, when he remembered it, he certainly did look very happy and cheerful." "And what sort of plans has he?" asked Bella. "They're all about his mother; everything is for her. She is to keep that cottage, and the ground about it, and he THE SIXTH OF SEPTEMBER. 617 is to make a garden for her; and it seems she likes cows, — she is to have cows. It 's a lucky chance that the old lady had n't a taste for a plesiosaurus, or he 'd be offering a prize for one to-morrow." "He's a dear good fellow, as he always was," said Bella. "The only real change I see in him," said Skeffy, "is that now he is never grumpy, — he takes everything well; and if crossed for a moment, he says, ' Give me a weed ; I must smoke away that annoyance.' " "How sensual!" said my Lady; but nobody heeded the remark. At the moment, too, a young midshipman saluted Damer from the street, and informed him that the first cutter was at the jetty to take the party off to the "Talisman;" and Captain Paynter advised them not to delay very long, as the night looked threatening. Lady Lyle needed no stronger admonition; she declared that she would go at once; and although the Captain's own gig, as an attention of honor, was to be in to take her, she would not wait, but set out immediately. "You '11 take care of me, Skeffy," said Alice, "for I have two letters to write, and shall not be ready before eleven o'clock." For a while all was bustle and confusion. Lady Lyle could not make up her mind whether she would finally accept the frigate as a refuge or come on shore again the next day. There were perils by land and by water, and she weighed them and discussed them, and turned fiercely on everybody who agreed with her, and quarrelled with all round. Sir Arthur, too, had his scruples, as he bethought him of the effect that would be produced by the fact that a man of his station and importance had sought the protection of a ship of war; and he asked Skeffy if some sort of brief protest — some explanation — should not be made in the public papers, to show that he had taken the step in compliance with female fears, and not from the dictates of his own male wisdom. "I should be sorry, sincerely sorry, to affect the Funds," said he; and really, the remark was considerate. As for Bella, she could not bear being separated from 518 TONY BUTLER. Skeffy; he was so dariug, so impulsive, as she said, and witli all this responsibilit}^ on him now, — people coming to him for everything, and all asking what was to be done, — • he needed more than ever support and sympathy. And thus is it the world goes on, as unreal, as fictitious, as visionary as anything there ever was put on the stage and illuminated by footlights. There was a rude realism outside in the street, however, that compensated for much of this. There, all was wildest fun and jollity ; not the com- motion of a people in the throes of a revolution, not the highly wrought passion of an excited populace mad with triumph ; it was the orgie of a people who deemed the down- fall of a hated government a sort of carnival occasion, and felt that mummery and tomfoolery were the most appropriate expressions of delight. Through streets crowded with this dancing, singing, laughing, embracing, and mimicking mass, the Lyles made their way to the jetty reserved for the use of the ships of war, and soon took their places, and were rowed off to the frigate, Skeffy waving his adieux till darkness rendered his gallantry unnoticed. All his late devotion to the cares of love and friendship had made such inroads on his time that he scarcely knew what was occurring, and had lamentably failed to report to ''the Office" the various steps by which revolution had advanced, and was already all but installed as master of the kingdom. Determined to write off a most telling de- spatch, he entered the hotel, and, seeing Alice engaged letter- writing at one table, he quietly installed himself at another, merely saying, "The boat will be back by midnight, and I have just time to send off an im.portant despatch." Alice looked up from her writing, and a very faint smile curled her lip. She did not speak, however, and after a moment continued her letter. For upwards of half an hour the scraping sounds of the pens were the only noises in the room, except at times a low murmur as Skeff read over to himself some passage of unusual force and brilliancy. "You must surely be doing something very effective, Skeff," said Alice, from the other end of the room, "for you THE SIXTH OF SEPTEMBER. 619 rubbed your bauds witb deligbt, and looked radiaut with triumph." "I think I have given it to them! " cried he. ''There 's not another man in the line would send home such a de- spatch. Canning would n't have done it in the old days, when be used to bully them. Shall I read it for you ? " "My dear Skeff, I 'm not Bella. I never had a head for questions of politics. I am hopelessly stupid in all such matters." " Ah, yes ; Bella told me that. Bella herself, indeed, only learned to feel an interest in them through me; but, as I told her, the woman who would one day be an ambassadress cannot afford to be ignorant of the great European game in which her husband is a player." "Quite true; but I have no such ambitions before me; and fortunate it is, for really I could not rise to the height of such lofty themes." Skeff smiled pleasantly; her humility soothed him. He turned to the last paragraph he had penned and re-read it. "By the way," said Alice, carelessly, and certainly noth- ing was less apropos to what they had been saying, though she commenced thus, — "by the way, how did you find Tony looking, — improved, or the reverse?" "Improved in one respect; fuller, browner, more manly, perhaps, but coarser ; he wants the — you know what I mean — he wants this! " and he swayed his arm in a bold sweep, and stood fixed, with his hand extended. "Ah, indeed!" said she, faintly. "Don't you think so — don't you agree with me, Alice?" "Perhaps to a certain extent 1 do," said she, ditBdentl3^ "How could it be otherwise, consorting with such a set? You 'd not expect to find it there? " Alice nodded assent all the more readily that she had not the vaguest conception of what "it" might mean. "The fact is, Alice," said he, arising and walking the room with immense strides, " Tony will always be Tony ! " "I suppose he will," said she, dryl3^ "Yes; but you don't follow me. You don't appreciate my meaning. I desired to convey this opinion, that Tony being one of those men who cannot add to their own natures 520 TONY BUTLER. the gifts and graces which a man acquires who has his successes with your sex — " "Come, come, Skeff, you must neither be metaphysical nor improper. Tony is a very fine boy, — only a boy, I acknowledge, but he has noble qualities ; and every year he lives will, I feel certain, but develop them further." "He won't stand the ' boy ' tone any longer," said Skeff, dryly. "I tried it, and he was down on me at once." " What did he say when you told him we were here ? " said she, carelessly, while putting her papers in order. "He was surprised." "Was he pleased?" "Oh, yes, pleased, certainly; he was rather afraid of meeting your mother, though." "Afraid of mamma! how could that be?" "Some lesson or other she once gave him sticks in his throat; something she said about presumption, I think." "Oh, no, no; this is quite impossible, — I can't credit it." "Well, it might be some fancy of his; for he has fancies, and very queer ones too. One was about a godfather of mine. Come in, — what is it? " cried he, as a knock came to the door. "A soldier below stairs, sir, wishes to speak to you," said the waiter. "Ah! something of importance from Filangieri, I've no doubt," said Skeff, rising and leaving the room. Before he had gone many paces, however, he saw a large, powerful figure in the red shirt and small cap of the Garibaldians, standing in the corridor, and the next instant he turned fully round, — it was Tony. "My dear Tony, when did you arrive?" "This moment; I am off again, however, at once, but I would n't leave without seeing you." "Off, and where to?" "Home; I've taken a passage to Marseilles in the Mes- sageries boat, and she sails at two o'clock. You see I was no use here till this arm got right, and the General thought my head would n't be the worse of a little quiet; so I '11 go back and recruit, and if they want me they shall have me." "You don't know who 's there? " whispered Skeff. Tony * THE SIXTH OF SEPTEMBER. 621 shook his head. ''And all alone, too," added the other, still lower. "Alice, — Alice Trafford." Tony grew suddenly very pale, and leaned against the wall. ''Come in; come in at once, and see her. AYe have been talking of you all the evening." "No, no, — not now," said Tony, faintly. "And when, if not now? You're going off, you said." "I'm in no trim to pay visits; besides, I don't wish it. I'll tell you more some other time." "Nonsense; you look right well in your brigand costume, and with an old friend, not to say — Well, well, don't look sulky ; " and as he got thus far — he had been gradually edging closer and closer to the door — he flung it wide open, and called out, "Mr. Tony Butler! " Pushing Tony inside, and then closing the door behind, he retreated, laughing heartily to himself over his practical joke. CHAPTER LIX. AN AWKWARD MOMENT. Alice started as she heard the name Tony Butler, and for a moment neither spoke. There was confusion and awk- wardness on either side ; all the greater that each saw it in the other. She, however, was the first to rally; and, with a semblance of old friendship, held out her hand, and said, "I am so glad to see you, Tony, and to see you safe." "I 'd not have dared to present myself in such a dress," stammered he out; "but that scamp Skeffy gave me no choice: he opened the door and pushed me in." "Your dress is quite good enough to visit an old friend in. AVon't you sit down? — sit here." As she spoke, she seated herself on an ottoman, and pointed to a place at her side. "I am longing to hear something about your cam- paigns. Skeff was so provoking; he only told us about what he saw at Cava, and his own adventures on the road." "I have very little to tell, and less time to tell it. I must embark in about half an hour." "And where for?" "For home." "So that if it had not been for Skeff' s indiscretion I should not have seen you?" said she, coldly. "Not at this moment, — not in this guise." "Indeed! " And there was another pause. "I hope Bella is better. Has she quite recovered?" asked he. "She is quite well again; she '11 be soiTy to have missed you, Tony. She wanted, besides, to tell you how happy it made her to hear of all your good fortune." "My good fortune! Oh, yes — to be sure. It was sc unlooked for," added he, with a faint smile, "that I have AN AWKWARD MOMENT. 523 hardly been able to realize it yet; that is, I find myself planning half-a-dozen ways to earn my bread, when 1 sud- denly remember that I shall not need them." "And I hope it makes you happy, Tony?" " Of course- it does. It enables me to make my mother happy, and to secure that we shall not be separated. As for myself alone, my habits are simple enough, and my tastes also. My difficulty will be, I suppose, to acquire more expensive ones." *' It is not a very hard task, I believe," said she, smiling. " Not for others, perhaps ; but I was reared in narrow fortune, Alice, trained to submit to many a privation, and told too — I 'm not sure very wisely — that such hardships are all the more easily borne by a man of good blood and lineage. Perhaps I did not read my lesson right. At all events, I thought a deal more of my good blood than other people were willing to accord it ; and the result 'v/as, it misled me." '' Misled you ! and how — in what way? " " Is it you who ask me this — you, Alice, who have read me such wise lessons on self-dependence, while Lady Lyle tried to finish my education by showing the evils of over- presumption ; and you were both I'ight, though I did n't see it at the time." " I declare I do not understand you, Tony! " said she. '' Well, I '11 try to be clearer," said he, with more anima- tion. " From the first day I knew j^ou, Alice, I loved you. I need not say that all the difference in station between us never affected my love. You were too far above me in every gift and grace to make rank, mere rank, ever occur to my mind, though others were good enough to jog my memory on the subject." " Others ! of whom are you speaking? " " Your brother Mark, for one ; but I don't want to think of these things. I loved you, I say ; and to that degree that every change of your manner towards me made the joy or the misery of my life. This was when I was an idle youth, lounging about in that condition of half dependence that, as I look back on, I blush to think I ever could have 524 TONY BUTLER. endured. My only excuse is, however, that I knew no better." " There was nothing unbecoming in what you did." " Yes, there was, though. There was this : I was satisfied to hold an ambiguous position, — to be a something, neither master nor servant, in another man's house, all because it gave me the daily happiness to be near you, and to see you, and to hear your voice. That was unbecoming, and the best proof of it was, that with all my love and all my devotion, you could not care for me." " Oh, Tony ! do not say that." '' When I say care, you could not do more than care ; you could n't love me." " Were you not always as a dear brother to me? " " I wanted to be more than brother, and when I found that this could not be, I grew very careless, almost reckless, of my life ; not but that it took a long time to teach me the full lesson. I had to think over, not only all that separated us in station, but all that estranged us in tone of mind ; and I saw that your superiority to me chafed me, and that if you should ever come to feel for me, it would be through some sense of pity." " Oh, Tony!" "Yes, Alice, you know it better than I can say it; and so I set my pride to fight against my love, with no great success at first. But as I lay wounded in the orchard at Melazzo, and thought of my poor mother, and her sorrow if she were to hear of my death, and compared her grief with w^hat yours would be, I saw what was real in love, and what was mere interest ; and I remember I took out my two relics, — the dearest objects I had in the world, — a lock of my mother's hair and a certain glove, — a white glove you may have seen once on a time ; and it was over the little braid of brown hair I let fall the last tears I thought ever to shed in life ; and here is the glove — I give it back to you. Will you have it?" She took it with a trembling hand ; and in a voice of weak but steady utterance said, " I told you that this time would come." " You did so," said he, gloomily. AN AWKWARD MOMENT. 525 Alice rose and walked out upon the balcony ; and after a moment Tony followed her. They leaned on the balustrade side by side, but neither spoke. " But we shall alwa^^s be dear friends, Tony, sha'n't we? " said she, while she laid her hand gently over his. ''Oh, Alice," said he, plaintively, "do not — do not, I beseech you — lead me back again into that land of delusion I have just tried to escape from. If you knew how I loved you — if you knew what it costs me to tear that love out of my heart — you'd never wish to make the agony greater to me." " Dear Tony, it was a mere boyish passion. Remember for a moment how it began. I was older than you — much older as regards life and the world — and even older by more than a year. You were so proud to attach yourself to a grown woman, — you a mere lad; and then your love — for I will grant it was love — dignified you to yourself. It made you more daring where there was danger, and it taught you to be gentler and kinder, and more considerate to every one. All your good and great qualities grew the faster that they had those little vicissitudes of joy and sorrow, the sua and rain of our daily lives ; but all that is not love." "You mean there is no love where there is no return of love?" She was silent. "If so, I deny it. The faintest flicker of a hope was enough for me; the merest shadow, a smile, a passing word, your mere 'Thank you, Tony,' as I held your stirrup, the little word of recognition you would give when I had done something that pleased you, — these — any of them — would send me home happy, — happier, perhaps, than I ever shall be again." " No, Tony, do not believe that," said she, calmly; "not," added she, hastily, "that I can acquit myself of all wrong to you. No; I was in fault, — gravely in fault. I ought to have seen what would have come of all our intimacy; I ought to have known that I could not develop all that was best in your nature without making you turn in gratitude — well, in love — to myself; but shall I tell you the truth? I over-estimated my power over you. I not only thought I 526 TONY BUTLER. could make you love, but unlove me ; and I never thought what pain that lesson might cost — each of us." "It would have been fairer to have cast me adrift at first," said he, fiercely. "And yet, Tony, you will be generous enough one of these days to think differently! " "I certainly feel no touch of that generosity now." "Because you are angry with me, Tony, — because you will not be just to me ; but when you have learned to think of me as your sister, and can come and say, Dear Alice, coun- sel me as to this, advise me as to that, — then there will be no ill-will towards me for all I have done to teach you the great stores that were in your own nature." "Such a day as that is distant," said he, gloomily. "Who knows? The changes which work within us are not to be measured by time ; a day of sorrow will do the work of years." "There! that lantern at the peak is the signal for me to be oif. The skipper promised to give me notice; but if you will say ' Stay! ' be it so. No, no, Alice, do not lay your hand on my arm if you would not have me again deceive myself." "You will write to me, Tony?" He shook his head to imply the negative. "Well, to Bella, at least? " "I think not. I will not promise. Why should I? Is it to try and knot together the cords we have just torn, that you may break them again at your pleasure ? " "How ungenerous you are! " "You reminded me awhile ago it was my devotion to you that civilized me; is it not natural that I should go back to savagery, as my allegiance was rejected?" "You want to be Garibaldian in love as in war," said she, smiling. The deep boom of a gun floated over the bay, and Tony started. "That's the last signal, — good-bye." He held out his hand. "Good-bye, dear Tony," said she. She held her cheek towards him. He hesitated, blushed till his face was in a AN AWKWARD MOMENT. 527 flame, then stooped and kissed her. Skeff's voice was heard at the instant at the door ; and Tony rushed past him and down the stairs, and then, with mad speed, dashed along to the jetty, leaped into the boat, and, covering his face with his hands, never raised his head till they were alongside. "You were within an inch of being late, Tony," cried M'Gruder, a^ he came up the side. "What detained you? " "I '11 tell you all another time, — let me go below now; " and he disappeared down the ladder. The heavy paddles flapped slowly, then faster; and the great mass moved on, and made for the open sea. CHAPTER LX. A DECK WALK. The steamer was well out to sea when Tony appeared on deck. It was a calm, starlight night, — fresh, but not cold. The few passengers, however, had sought their berths below, and the only one who lingered on deck was M'Gruder and one other, who, wrapped in a large boat-cloak, lay fast asleep beside the binnacle. *'I was thinking you had turned in/' said M'Gruder to Tony, "as you had not come up." "Give me a light; I want a smoke badly. I felt that something was wrong with me, though I did n't know what it was. Is this Rory here ? " *'Yes, sound asleep, poor fellow." *'I '11 wager a trifle he has a lighter heart than either of us, Sam." "It might easily be lighter than mine," sighed M'Gruder, heavily. Tony sighed too, but said nothing, and they walked along side by side, with that short jerking stride men pace a deck with, feeling some sort of companionship, although no words were exchanged between them. "You were nigh being late," said M'Gruder, at last. "What detained you on shore? " "I saw her! '* said Tony, in a low muffled voice. "You saw her! Why, you told me you were determined not to see her." "So I was, and so I intended. It came about by mere accident. That strange fellow, Skeffy, you've heard me speak of, — he pushed me plump into the room where she was, and there was nothing to be done but to speak to her." "Well?" A DECK WALK. 529 "Well! I spoke," said he, half gruffly; and then, as if correcting the roughness of his tone, added, "It was just as I said it would be; just as I told you. She liked me well enough as a brother, but never thought of me as anything else. All the interest she had taken in me was out of friendship. She didn't say this haughtily, not a bit; she felt herself much older than me, she said; that she felt her- self better was like enough, but she never hinted it, but she let me feel pretty plainly that we were not made for each other; and though the lesson wasn't much to my liking, I began to see it was true." "Did you really? " "I did," said he, with a deep sigh. "I saw that all the love I had borne her was only paid back in a sort of feeling half compassionately, half kindly; that her interest in me was out of some desire to make something out of me; I mean, to force me to exert m3'self and do something, — any- thing besides living a hanger-on at a great house. I have a notion, too, — Heaven knows if there 's anything in it, — but I 've a notion, Sam, if she had never known me till now, — if she had never seen me idling and lounging about in that ambiguous position I held, — something between gamekeeper and reduced gentleman, — that I might have had a better chance." M'Gruder nodded a half-assent, and Tony continued: "I '11 tell you why I think so. Whenever she- asked me about the campaign and the way I was wounded, and what I had seen, there was quite a change in her voice, and she listened to what I said very differently from the way she heard me when I talked to her of my affection for her." "There 's no knowing them! there 's no knowing them! " said M'Gruder, drearily; "and how did it end?" "It ended that way." "What way?" ''Just as I told you. She said she 'd always be the same as a sister to me, and that when I grew older and wiser I 'd see that there should never have been any closer tie between us. I can't repeat the words she used, but it was something to this purport, — that when a woman has been lecturing a man about his line of life, and trying to make something 34 530 TOXY BUTLER. out of him, against the grain of his own indolence, she can't turn suddenly round and fall in love, even though he was in love with Ae?\" "She has a good head on her shoulders, she has," muttered M'Gruder. "I'd rather she had a little more heart," said Tony, peevishly. "That may be; but she's right, after all." "And wh}^ is she right? why should n't she see me as I am DOW, and not persist in looking at me as I used to be?" "Just because it's not her humor, I suppose; at least, I don't know any better reason." Tony wheeled suddenly away from his companion, and took two or three turns alone. At last he said, "She never told me so, but I suppose the truth was, all this time she did think me very presumptuous; and that what her mother did not scruple to say to me in words, Alice had often said to her own heart." "You are rich enough now to make you her equal." "And I 'd rather be as poor as I used to be and have the hopes that have left me." M'Gruder gave a heavy sigh, and, turning away, leaned on the bulwark and hid his face. "I 'm a bad comforter, Tony," said he at last, and speaking with difficulty. "I did n't mean to have told you, for you have cares enough of your own, but I may as well tell you, — read that." As he spoke, he drew out a letter and handed it to him; and Tony, stooping down beside the binnacle light, read it over twice. "This is clear and clean beyond me." exclaimed he, as he stood up. "From any other girl I could understand it; but Dolly, — Dolly Stewart, who never broke her word in her life, — I never knew her tell a lie as a little child. What can she mean by it? " "Just what she says — there — she thought she could marry me, and she finds she cannot." "But why?" "Ah! that 's more than she likes to tell me, — more, may- hap, than she 'd tell any one." "Have you any clew to it?" A DECK WALK. 531 "None, — not the slightest." "Is your sister-in-law in it? Has she said or written anything that Dolly could resent?" "No; don't you mark what she says at the end? 'You must not try to lighten any blame you would lay on me by thinking that any one has influenced me. The fault is all my own. It is I myself have to ask your forgiveness.' " "Was there any coldness in your late letters? Was there anything that she could construe into change of affection?" "Nothing, — nothing." "What will her father say to it?" said Tony, after a pause. ''She's afraid of that herself. You mind the words? — * If I meet forgiveness from you, I shall not from others, and my fault will bear its heavy punishment on a heart that is not too happy.' Poor thing! I do forgive her, — forgive her with all my heart; but it 's a great blow, Tony." "If she was a capricious girl, I could understand it, but that's what she never was." "No, no; she was true and honest in all things." "It may be something about her father; he 's an old man, and failing. She cannot bear to leave him, perhaps, and it 's just possible she could n't bring herself to say it. Don't you think it might be that? " " Don't give me a hope, Tony. Don't let me see a glimpse of light, my dear friend, if there 's to be no fulfil- ment after." The tone of emotion he spoke in made Tony unable to reply for some minutes. "I have no right to say this, it is true," said he, kindly; "but it's the nearest guess I can make: I know, for she told me so herself, she 'd not go and be a governess again if she could help it." "Oh, if jou were to be right, Tony! Oh, if it was to be as you suspect; for we could make him come out and live with us here! We've plenty of room, and it would be a pleasure to see him happy, and at rest, after his long life of labor. Let us read the letter over together, Tony, and see how it agrees with that thought;" and now they both crouched down beside the light, and read it over from end to end. Here and there were passages that they pondered 532 TONY BUTLER. over seriously, and sonie they read twice and even thrice; and although they brought to this task the desire to con- firm a speculation, there was that in the tone of the letter that gave little ground for their hope. It was so self- accusing throughout, that it was plain she herself laid no comfort to her own heart in the thought of a high duty fulfilled. "Are you of the same mind still?" asked M'Gruder, sadly, and with little of hopefulness in his voice; and Tony was silent. '' I see you are not. I see that you cannot give me such a hope." "Have you answered this yet?" "Yes, I have written it; but it 's not sent off. I kept it by me to read over, and see that there was nothing harsh or cruel, — nothing I would not say in cold blood; for oh, Tony I I will avow it was hard to forgive her; no, I don't mean that, but it was hard to bring myself to believe I had lost her forever. For a while I thought the best thing I could do was to comfort myself by thinking how false she was. and I took out all her letters, to convince me of her duplicity ; but what do you think I found ? They all showed me, what I never saw till then, that she was only going to be my wife out of a sort of resignation; that the grief and fretting of her poor father at leaving her penniless in the world was more than she could bear; and that to give him the comfort of his last few days in peace, she 'd make any sacrifice; and through all the letters, though I never saw it before, she laid stress on what she called doing her best to make me happy, but there was no word of being happy herself." Perhaps Tony did not lay the same stress on this that his friend did; perhaps no explanation of it came readily to his mind; at all events, he made no attempt at comment, and only said, — "And what will your answer be? " "What can it be? — to release her, of course." "Ay, but how will you say it?" "Here's what I have written; it is the fourth attempt, and I don't much like it yet, but I can't do it better." A DECK WALK. 533 And once more they turned to the light while M'G ruder read out his letter. It was a kind and feeling letter ; it contained not one word of reproach, but it said that, into the home he had taken, and where he meant to be so happy, he 'd never put foot again. " You ought to have seen it, Tony," said he, with a quiver in his voice. " It was all so neat and comfortable ; and the little room I meant to be Dolly's own was hung round with prints, and there was a little terrace, with some orange-trees and myrtles, that would grow there all through the winter, — for it was a sheltered spot under the Monte Xero ; but it's all over now." " Don't send off that letter. I mean, let me see her and speak to her before you write. I shall be at home, I hope, by Wednesday, and I '11 go over to the Burnside, — or, better still, I '11 make my mother ask Dolly to come over to us. Dolly loves her as if she were her own mother, and if any one can influence her she will be that one." ''But I'd not wish her to come round by persuasion, Tony. Dolly 's a girl to have a will of her own, and she 's never made up her mind to write me that letter without thinking well over it." "Perhaps she'll tell ray mother her reasons. Perhaps she '11 say why she draws back from her promise." "I don't even know that I'd like to drive her to that; it might n't be quite fair." Tony flung away his cigar with impatience ; he was irri- tated, for he bethought him of his own case, and how it was quite possible that no such scruples of delicacy would have interfered with him if he could only have managed to find out what was passing in Alice's mind. " I'm sure," said M'Gruder, " you agree with me, Tony; and if she says, ' Don't hold me to my pledge,' I have no right to ask why." A short shrug of the shoulders was all Tony's answer. " Not that I 'd object to 3'our sajnng a word for me, Tony, if there was to be any hope from it, — saying what a warm friend could say of one he thought well of. You 've been living under the same roof with me, and you know more of my nature, and my ways and my temper, than most men, and ma:yhaD what you could tell her might have its weight." 534 TONY BUTLER. "That I know and believe." *'But don't think only of me, Tony. S/ie^s more to be considered than I am; and if this bargain was to be un- happy for her, it would only be misery for both of us. You 'd not marry your own sweetheart against her own will?" Tony neither agreed to nor dissented from this remark. The chances were that it was a proposition not so readily solved, and that he 'd like to have thought over it. *'No; I know you better than that," said M'Gruder, once more. "Perhaps not," remarked Tony; but the tone certainly gave no positive assurance of a settled determination. "At all events, I '11 see what I can do for you." "If it was that she cares for somebody else that she could n't marry, — that her father disliked, or that he was too poor, — I 'd never say one word; because who can tell what changes may come in life, and the man that could n't support a wife now, in a year or two may be well off and thriving? And if it was that she really liked another, — you don't think that likely? Well, neither do I; but I say it here because I want to take in every consideration of the question ; but I repeat, if it were so, I 'd never utter one word against it. Youi' mother, Tony, is more likely to find tJiat out than any of us; and if she says Dolly's heart is given away already, that will be enough. I '11 not trouble nor torment her more." Tony grasped his friend's hand and shook it warmly, some vague suspicion darting through him at the time that this rag-merchant was more generous in his dealing with the woman he loved than he, Tony, would have been. Was it that he loved less, or was it that his love was more? Tony couldn't tell; nor was it so very easy to resolve it either way. As day broke, the steamer ran into Leghorn to land some passengers and take in others; and M'Gruder, while he took leave of Tony, pointed to a red-tiled roof rising amongst some olive-trees, — the quaint little pigeon-house on top surmounted with a weather-vane fashioned into an enormous letter S. A DECK WALK. 635 ''There it is," said he, with a shake in his voice; "that was to have been her home. I '11 not go near it till I hear from you, and you may tell her so. Tell her you saw it, Tony, and that it was a sweet little spot, where one might look for happiness if they could only bring a quiet heart to it. And above all, Tony, write to me frankly and openly, and don't give me any hopes if your own conscience tells you I have no right to them." With a strong grasp of the hand, and a long full look at each other m silence, M'Gruder went over the side to hia boat, and the steamer ploughed on her way to Marseilles. CHAPTER LXI. TONY AT HOME AGAIN. Though Tony was eager to persuade Rory to accompany him home, the poor fellow longed so ardently to see his friends and relations, to tell all that he had done and suffered for "the cause," and to show the rank he had won, that Tony yielded at last, and only bound him by a promise to come and pass his Christmas at the Causeway ; and now he has- tened on night and day, feverishly impatient to see his mother, and j^earning for that affection which his heart had never before so thirsted after. There were times when he felt that, without Alice, all his good fortune in life was valueless ; and it was a matter of utter indifference whether he was to see himself surrounded with every means of enjoyment, or rise each morning to meet some call of labor. And then there were times when he thought of the great space that separated them, — not in condition, but in tastes and habits and requirements. She was of that gay and fashionable world that she adorned, — made for it, and made to like it; its admiration and its homage were things she looked for. What would he have done if obliged to live in such a society? His delight was the freedom of an out-of-door existence, — the hard work of field-sports, dashed with a certain danger that gave them their zest. In these he admitted no man to be his superior; and in this very conscious strength lay the pride that sus- tained him. Compel him, however, to live in another fashion, surround him with the responsibilities of station, and the demands of certain ceremonies, and he would be wretched. "Perhaps she saw all that," muttered he to him- self. "With that marvellous quickness of hers, who knows if she might not have foreseen how unsuited I was to all TONY AT HOME AGAIN. 537 habits but my own wayward careless ones ? And though I hope I shall always be a gentleman, in truth there are some forms of the condition that puzzle me sorely. " And, after all, have I not my dear mother to look after and make happy? and what a charm it will give to life to see her surrounded with the little objects she loved and cared for ! What a garden she shall have ! " Climate and soil, to be sure, were stiff adversaries to conquer, but mone}^ and skill could fight them ; and that school for the little girls — the fishermen's daughters — that she was always planning, and always wondering Sir Arthur Lyle had never thought of, she should have it now, and a pretty building, too, it should be. He knew the very spot to suit it, and how beautiful he would make their own little cottage, if his mother should still desire to live there. Not that he thought of this posi- tively with perfect calm and indifference. To live so near the Lyles, and live estranged from them, would be a great source of unpleasantness, and yet how could he possibly renew his relations there, now that all was over between Alice and himself? "Ah," thought he, at last, " the world would stand still if it had to wait for stupid fellows like me to solve its difficulties. I must just let events happen, and do the best I can when they confront me ; " and then mother would be there, mother would counsel and advise him ; mother would warn him of this, and reconcile him to that ; and so he was of good cheer as to the future, though there were things in the present that pressed him sorely. It was about an hour after dark of a starry, sharp October evening, that the jaunting-car on which he travelled drove up to the spot where the little pathway turned off to the cottage, and Jeanie was there with her lantern waiting for him. "You've no a' that luggage, Maister Tony ? " cried she, as the man deposited the fourth trunk on the road. "How's my mother?" asked he, impatiently, — "is she well 2" "Why wouldn't she be weel, and hearty too?" said the girl, who rather felt the question as savoring of ingratitude, seeing what blessings of fortune had been showered upon them. 538 TONY BUTLER. As he walked hurriedly along, Jeanie trotted at his side, telling him, in broken and disjointed sentences, the events of the place, — the joy of the whole neighborhood on hear- ing of his new wealth; their hopes that he might not leave that part of the country; what Mrs. Blackie of Craigs Mills said at Mrs. Dumphy's christening, when she gave the name of Tony to the baby, and wouldn't say Anthony; and how Dr. M'Caudlish improved the occasion for "twa good hours, wi' mair text o' Scripture than wad make a Sabbath-day's discourse; and ech, Maister Tony, it's a glad heart I'll hae o' it all, if I could only think that you '11 no be going to keep a man creature, — a sort of a butler like; there 's no such wastefu' bodies in the world as they, and wanting mair ceremonies than the best gentleman in the land." Before Tony had finished assuring her that no change in the household should displace herself, they had reached the little wicket; his mother, as she stood at the door, caught the sound of his voice, rushed out to meet him, and was soon clasped in his arms. "It's more happiness than I hoped for, — more, far more," was all she could say, as she clung to him. Her next words were uttered in a cry of joy, when the light fell full upon him in the doorway, — "you 're just your father, Tony; it 's your own father's self I see standing before me, if you had not so much hair over your face." "I'll soon get rid of that, mother, if you dislike it." "Let it be, Master Tony, — let it be," cried Jeanie; "though it frightened me a bit at first, it 's no so bad when one gets used to it." Though Mrs. Butler had determined to make Tony relate every event that took place from the day he left her, in regular narrative order, nothing could be less connected, nothing less consecutive, than the incidents he recounted. Now it would be some reminiscence of his messenger days, — of his meeting with that glorious Sir Joseph, who treated him so handsomely; then of that villain who stole his de- spatches ; of his life as a rag-merchant, or his days with Garibaldi. Rory, too, was remembered; and he related to his mother the pious fraud by which he had transferred to his humble follower the promotion Garibaldi had bestowed upon himself. TONY AT HOME AGAIN. 539 "He well deserved it, and more; he carried me, when I was wounded, through the orchard at Melazzo on his back, and though struck with a bullet himself, never owned he was hit till he fell on the grass beside me, — a grand fellow that, mother, though he never learned to read." And there was a something of irony in his voice as he said this, that showed how the pains of learning still rankled in his mind. "And you never met the Lyles? How strange!" ex- claimed she. "Yes, I met Alice; at least," said he, stooping down to settle the log on the fire, "I saw her the last evening I was at Naples." "Tell me all about it." "There's no all. I met her, we talked together for half an hour or so, and we parted; there 's the whole of it." "She had heard, I suppose, of your good fortune?" "Y^es, Skeff had told them the story and, T take it, made the most of our wealth; not that rich people like the Lyles would be much impressed by our fortune." "That may be true, Tony, but rich folk have a sympathy with other rich folk, and they 're not very wrong in liking those whose condition resembles their own. What did Alice say? Did she give you some good advice as to your mode of life?" " Y"es, plenty of that ; she rather likes advice-giving." " She was always a good friend of yours, Tony. I mind well when she used to come here to hear your letters read to her. She ever made the same remark : ' Tony is a fine true- hearted boy ; and when he 's moulded and shaped a bit by the pressure of the world, he '11 grow to be a fine true-hearted man.'" *' It was very gracious of her, no doubt," said he, with a sharp, short tone; " and she was good enough to contribute a little to that self-same ' pressure ' she hoped so much from." His mother looked at him to explain his words, but he turned his head away and was silent. " Tell me something about home, mother. How are the Stewarts? Where is Dolly?" " They are well, and Dolly is here ; and a dear good girl 540 TONY BUTLER. she is. Ah, Tony! if you knew all the comfort she has been to me in your absence, — coming here through sleet and snow and storm, and nursing me like a daughter." " I liked her better till I learned how she had treated that good- hearted fellow Sam M'Gruder. Do you know how she has behaved to him ? " " I know it all. I read her letters, every one of them." "And can you mean that you defend her conduct? " " I mean that if she were to marry a man she did not love, and were dishonest enough not to tell him so, I 'd not at- tempt to defend her. There's what I mean, Tony." " Why promise him, then, — why accept him? " " She never did." *' Ah ! " exclaimed he, holding up both his hands. '*I know what I say, Tony. It was the doctor answered the letter in which Mr. M'Gruder proposed for Dolly. He said that he could not, would not, use any influence over his daughter ; but that, from all he had learned of Mr. M'Gruder's character, he would give his free consent to the match." " Well, then, Dolly said — " '' Wait a bit, I am coming to Dolly. She wrote back that she was sorry he had not first written to herself, and she would frankly have declared that she did not wish to marry ; but now, as he had addressed her father, — an old man in failing health, anxious above all things about what was to become of her when he was removed, — the case was a more difficult one, since to refuse his offer was to place herself in opposition to her father's will, — a thing that in all her life had never happened. ' You will see from this,' said she, ' that I could not bring to you that love and affection which would be your right, were I only to marry you to spare my father's anxieties. You ought to have more than this in your wife, and I cannot give you more ; therefore do not persist in this suit, or, at all events, do not press it.' " *'But I remember your writing me word that Dolly was only waiting till I left M'Gruder's house, or quitted the neighborhood, to name the day she would be married. How do you explain that? " "It was her father forced her to write that letter: his TONY AT HOME AGAIN. 541 health was failing, and bis irritability had increased to that degree that at times we were almost afraid of his reason, Tony ; and I mind well the night Dolly came over to show me what she had written. She read it in that chair where you are sitting now, and when she finished she fell on her knees, and, hiding her face in my lap, she sobbed as if her poor heart was breaking." " So, in fact, she was always averse to this match? " " Always. She never got a letter from abroad that I could n't have told it by her red eyes and swelled eyelids, poor lassie ! " "I say, 'poor fellow!' mother; for I declare that the man who marries a woman against her will has the worst of it." '' No, no, Tony; all sorrows fall heaviest on the helpless. When at last the time came that she could bear no more, she rallied her courage and told her father that if she were to marry M'Gruder it would be the misery of her whole life. He took it very ill at first ; he said some very cruel things to her ; and, indeed, it was only after seeing how I took the lassie's side, and approved of all she had done, that he yielded and gave way. But he is n't what he used to be, Tony. Old age, they say, makes people sometimes sterner and harder. A grievous thing to think of, that we 'd be more worldly just when the world was slipping awa}^ beneath us; and so what do you think he does? The same day that Dolly writes that letter to M'Gruder, he makes her write to Dr. M'Candlish to say that she 'd take a situation as a gov- erness with a family going to India which the doctor men- tioned was open to any well-qualified young person like herself. ' Ye canna say that your " heart will be broke wi* treachery " here, lassie,' said her father, jeering at what she said m her tears about the marriage." *' Y"ou oughtn't to suffer this, mother; you ought to offer Dolly a home here with yourself." " It was what I was thinking of. Tony ; but I did n't like to take any step in it till I saw you and spoke to you." "Do it, by all means, — do it to-morrow." '' Not to-morrow, Tony, nor even the next day ; for Dolly and the doctor left this to pass a few days with the M'Cand- 542 TONY BUTLER. lishes at Articlave, and they '11 not be back before Saturday , but I am so glad that you like the plan, — so glad that it came from yourself too." "It's the first bit of pleasure our new wealth has given us, mother ; may it be a good augury ! " " That 's a heathenish word, Tony, and most unsuited to be used in thankfulness for God's blessings." Tony took the rebuke in good part, and, to change the topic, laughingly asked if she thought Garibaldiaus never were hungry, for she had said nothing of supper since he came. " Jeanie has been in three times to tell you it was ready, and the last time she said she 'd come no more ; but come, and we '11 see what there 's for us." CHAPTER LXII. SKEFF DAMER's LAST " PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL." After some four or five days passed almost like a dream — for while he stood in the midst of old familiar objects, all Tony's thoughts as to the future were new and strange — there came a long letter from Skeff Darner, announcing his approaching marriage with Bella, — the " dear old woman of Tilney" having behaved "beautifully." "Short as the time has been since you left this, my brave Tony, great events have occurred. The King has lost his throne, and Skeff Damer has gained an estate. I would have saved him, for I really like the Queen ; but that his obstinacy is such, the rescue would have only been a reprieve, not a pardon. Sicily I meant for us, — I mean for England, — myself to be the Viceroy. The silver mines at Stromboli have never been worked since the time of Tiberius ; they contain untold wealth ; and as to coral fishery, I have obtained statistics will make your teeth water. I can show you my calcula- tions in hard figures, that in eight years and four months I should be the richest man in Europe, — able to purchase the soil of the island out-and-out, if the British Government were stupid enough not to see that they ought to establish me and my dynasty there. These are now but visions, — grand and glorious visions, it is true, — and dearest Bella sheds tears when I allude to them. " I have had a row with ' the Office ; * they blame me for the downfall of the monarchy, but they never told me to save it. To 3^ou I may make the confession, it was the two days T passed at Cava cost this Bourbon his crown. Not that I regret, my dear Tony, this tribute to friendship. During that interval, as Caraffa expresses it, they were paralyzed. 'Where is Damer?' 'Who has seen Skeff?' 544 TONY BUTLER. * What has become of him ? ' ' With whom is he nego- tiating ? ' were the questions on every side ; and in the very midst of the excitement, back comes the fellow M'Caskey, the little fiery-faced individual you insisted in your raving on calling my ' godfather,' and declares that I am in the camp of the Garibaldians. and making terms and stipulations with the General himself. The Queen-Mother went off in strong hysterics when she heard it ; the King never uttered a word, — has never spoken since, — and the dear Queen merely said, ' Damer will never betray us.' ''These particulars I learned from Francardi. Meanwhile Garibaldi, seeing the immense importance of my presence at his head-quarters, pushes on for the capital, and enters Naples, as he gives out, with the concurrence and approval of England ! You will, I have no doubt, hear another ver- sion of this event. Y"ou will be told bushels of lies about heroic daring and frantic popular enthusiasm. To your friendly breast I commit the truth, never to be revealed, however, except to a remote posterity. "One other confession, and I have done, — done with politics forever. Y^ou will hear of Garibaldi as a brave, straightforward, simple-minded, unsuspectful man, hating intrigues of all kinds. This is totally wrong. With all his courage, it is as nothing to his craft. He is the deepest politician, and the most subtle statesman in Europe, and, to my thinking, — mind, it is my estimate I give you, — more of Machiavelli than any man of his day. Bear this in mind, and keep your eye on him in future. We had not been five minutes together till each of us had read the other. We were the two ' Augurs ' of the Latin satirist, and if we did n't laugh, we exchanged a recognition just as significant. I ought to tell you that he is quite frantic at my giving up political life, and he says that my retirement will make Cavour's fortune, for there is no other man left fit to meet him. There was not a temptation, not a bribe, he did not throw out to induce me to withhold my resignation; and when he found that personal advantages had no weight with me, he said, ' Mind my words. Monsieur Damer; the day will come when you will regret this retirement. When you will see the great continent of Europe convulsed from DAMER'S LAST "PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL." 545 one end to the other, and yourself no longer in the posi- tion to influence the course of events, and guide the popular will, you will bitterly regret this step.' But I know myself better. What could the Peerage, what could the Garter, what could a seat in the Cabinet do for me? I have been too long and too much behind the scenes to be dazzled by the blaze of the 'spectacle.' I w^ant repose, a home, the charms of that domestic life which are denied to the mere man of ambition. Bella, indeed, has her misgivings, that to live without greatness — greatness in action, and great- ness to come — will be a sore trial to me; but I tell her, as I tell you, my dear friend, that it is exactly the men who, like myself, have moved events, and given the spring to the greatest casualties, who are readiest to accept tranquillity and peace as the first of blessings. Under the shade of my old elms at Tilney — I may call them mine already, as Reeves and Tucker are drawing out the deeds — I will write my memoirs, — one of the most interesting contributions, when it appears, that history has received for the last cen- tury. I can afford to be fearless, and I will be; and if cer- tain noble lords go down to posterity with tarnished honor and diminished fame, they can date the discovery to the day when they disparaged a Darner. "Now for a minor key. We led a very jolly life on board the 'Talisman;' only needing yourself to make it perfect. My Lady L. was ' out of herself ' at your not com- ing; indeed, since your accession to fortune, she has dis- covered some very amiable and some especially attractive qualities in your nature, and that if you fall amongst the right people — I hope you appreciate the sort of accident intended — you will become a very superior article. Bella is, as always, a sincere friend; and though Alice says noth- ing, she does not look ungrateful to him who speaks well of 3^ou. Bella has told me in confidence — mind, in confi- dence — that all is broken off between Alice and you, and says it is all the better for both; that you were a pair of intractable tempers, and that the only chance for either of you is to be allied to somebody or something that would consent to think you perfection, and yet manage you as if you were not what is called ' absolute wisdom. ' 35 546 TONY BUTLER. "Bella also said, ' Tony might have had some chance with Alice had he remained poor; ' the opposition of her family would have had its weight in influencing her in his favor; but now that he is a prize in the matrimonial lottery, she is quite ready to see any defects he ma}' have, and set them against all that would be said in his behalf. Last of all, she likes her independence as a widow. I half suspected that Maitland had been before you in her favor; but Bella says not. By the way, it was the fortune that has fallen to you Maitland had always expected ; Sir Omerod having mar- ried, or, as some say, not married, his mother, and adopted Maitland, who contrived to spend about eighty thousand of the old man's savings in ten or eleven years. He is a strange fellow, and mysterious to the last. Since the over- throw of the Government, we have been reduced to ask pro- tection to the city from the secret society called the Camorra, a set of Neapolitan Thugs, who cut throats in reciprocity; and it was by a guard of these wretches that we were escorted to the ship's boats when we embarked. Bella swears that the chief of the gang was no other than Maitland, greatly disguised, of course; but she saj's that she recognized him by his teeth as he smiled accidentall}'. It would be, of course, at the risk of his life he was there, since an^'thing that pertained to the Court would, if discovered, be torn to fragments by the people. My ' godfather ' had a narrow escape on Tuesday last. He rode through the Toledo in full uniform, amidst all the people, who were satisfied with hiss- ing him instead of treating him to a stiletto, and the rascal grinned an insolent defiance as he went, and said, as he gained the Piazza, ' You 're not such bad canaille^ after all ; I have seen worse in Mexico.' He went on board a de- spatch-boat in the bay, and ordered the commander to take him to Gaeta; and the oddest of all is, the officer complied, overpowered, as better men have been, by the scoundrel's impertinence. Oh, Tony, to you^ — to yourself, to your heart's most secret closet, fast to be locked, when you have my secret inside of it, — to you, I own, that the night I passed in that wretch's company is the darkest page of my existence. He overwhelmed me with insult, and I had to bear it, just as I should have to bear the buffeting of the DAMER'S LAST "PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL." 547 waves if I bud been thrown into the sea. I 'd have stran- gled him then and there if I was able, but the brute would have torn me limb from limb if I attempted it. Time may diminish the acuteness of this suffering, but I confess to you, up to this, when I think of what I went through, my humiliation overpowers me. I hope fervently you may meet him one of these days. You have a little score of your own, I suspect, to settle with him ; at all events, if the day of reckoning comes, include my balance, and trust to my eternal gratitude. "Here have come Alice and Bella to make me read out what I have written to you ; of course I have objected. This is a ' strictly private and confidential.' What we do for the blue-books. Master Tony, we do in a different fashion. Alice, perhaps, suspects the reasons of my reserve, — ' appreciates my reticence,' as we say in the ' Line.' "At all events, she tells me to make you write to her. ' "When Tony, ' said she, ' has found out that he was only in love with me because I made him better known to his own heart, and induced him to develop some of his own fine qualities, he '11 begin to see that we may and ought to be excellent friends ; and some day or other, when there shall be a Mrs. Tony, if she be a sensible woman, she '11 not object to their friendship.' She said this so measuredly and calmly that I can almost trust myself to say I have reported her word for word. It reads to me like a very polite conge. What do you say to it? "The Lyles are going back at the end of the month, but Alice says she '11 winter at Cairo. There is an insolent in- dependence about these widows, Tony, that adds one more terror to death. I protest I 'd like to haunt the woman that could employ her freedom of action in this arbitrary manner. "Dearest Bella insists on your coming to our wedding; it will come off at Tilney, strictly private. None but our nearest relatives, not even the Duke of Dullchester, nor any of the Howards. They will feel it; but it can't be helped, I suppose. Cincinnatus had to cut his connections, too, when he took to horticulture. You, however, must not desert me; and if you cannot travel without Rory, bring him with you. 548 TOXY BUTLER. "I am impatient to get away from this, and seek the safety of some obscure retreat; for I know the persecution I shall be exposed to to withdraw my resignation and re- main. To this I will never consent. I give it to you under my hand, Tony, and I give it the more formally, as I desire it may be historic. I know well the whining tone they will assume, — just as well as if I saw it before me in a despatch. ' What are we to tell the Queen ? ' wdll be the cry. My dig- nified answer will be, ' Tell her that you made it impossible for one of the ablest of her servants to hold his office with dignity. Tell her, too, that Skeff Damer has done enough for honor; he now seeks to do something for happiness.' Back to office again I will not go. Five years and two mouths of unpaid services have I given to my country, and England is not ashamed to accept the unrewarded labors of her gifted sons ! My very ' extraordinaries ' have been cavilled at. I give you my word of honor, they have asked me for vouchers for the champagne and lobsters with which I have treated some of the most dangerous regicides of Europe, — men whose language would make your hair stand on end, and whose sentiments actually curdled the blood as one listened to them. "The elegant hospitalities which I dispensed, in the hope — vain hope! — of inducing them to believe that the social amenities of life had extended to our insular position, — these the Office declares they have nothing to do with; and insolently asks me, ' Are there any other items of my pleas- m*e whose cost I should wish to submit to Parliament? ' "Ask Talleyrand, ask Metternich, ask any of our own people, — B., or S., or H. — since when have cookery and the ballet ceased to be the lawful weapons of diplomacy? " The day of reckoning for all this, my dear Tony, is com- ing. At first I thought of making some of my friends in the House move for the corrrespondence between F. O. and myself, — the Damer papers they would be called, in the language of the public journals, — and thus bring on a smashing debate. Reconsideration, however, showed me that my memoirs, ' Five Years of a Diplomatist on Service,* would be the more fitting place; and in the pages of those volumes you will find revelations more astounding, official DAMER'S LAST "PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL." 549 knaveries more nefarious, and political intrigues more Machiavellian, than the wildest imagination for "wickedness has ever conceived. What wofild they not have given rather than see such an exposure? I almost think I will call my book ' "Extraordinaries " of a Diplomatist.' Sen- sational and taking both, that title! You mustn't be pro- voked if, in one of the lighter chapters — there must be light chapters — I stick in that little adventure of 3'our own with my godfather." "Confound the fellow! " muttered Tony, and with such a hearty indignation that his mother heard him from the adjoining room, and hastened in to ask who or what had provoked him. Tony blundered out some sort of evasive reply, and then said, "AVas it Dr. Stewart's voice I heard there a few minutes ago?" "Yes, Tony; he called in as he was passing to Coleraine on important business. The poor man is much agitated by an offer that has just been made him to go far away over the seas, and finish his days, one may call it, at the end of the world. Some of this country folk, it seems, who settled in New Zealand, at a place the}^ call AYellington Gap, had in- vited him to go out there and minister among them ; and though he 's not minded to make the change at his advanced time of life, nor disposed to lay his bones in a far-away land, yet for Dolly's sake — poor Dolly, who will be left friendless and homeless when he is taken awaj^ — he thinks, maybe, it's his duty to accept the offer; and so he's gone into the town to consult Dr. M'Candlish and the elder Mr. M'Elwain, and a few other sensible men." "Why won't Dolly marry the man she ought to marry, — a good true-hearted fellow, who will treat her well and be kind to her? Tell me that, mother." ' "It mauna be, — it manna be," said the old lady, who, when much moved, frequently employed the Scotch dialect unconsciously. "Is there a reason for her conduct?" "There is a reason," said she, firmly. "And do you know it? Has she told you what it is?" "I'm not at liberty to talk over this matter with 3'ou, Tony. Whatever I know, I know as a thing confided to me in honor." 550 TOXY BUTLER. ''I only asked, Was the reason one that you yourself were satisfied with? " *'It was, and is," replied she, gravely. "Do you think, from what you know, that Dolly would listen to any representations I might make her? for I know M'Gruder thoroughly, and can speak of him as a friend likes to speak." "Xo, no, Tony; don't do iti don't do it! " cried she, with a degree of emotion that perfectly amazed him, for the tears swam in her eyes, and her lips trembled as she spoke. He stared fixedly at her; but she turned away her head, and for some minutes neither spoke. "Come, mother," said Tony, at last, and in his kindliest voice, "you have a good head of your own; think of some way to prevent the poor old doctor from going off into exile." ^ "How could we help him that he would not object to? " "What if you were to hit upon some plan of adopting Dolly? You have long loved her as if she were your own daughter, and she has returned your affections." "That she has," muttered the old lady, as she wiped her eyes. "What use is this new wealth of ours if it benefit none but ourselves, mother? Just get the doctor to talk it all over with you, and say to him, ' Have no fears as to Dolly ; she shall never be forced to marry against her inclinations, — merely for support; her home shall be here with us, and she shall be no dependant, neither.' I'll take care of that." "How like your father you said these words, Tony! " cried she, looking at him with a gaze of love and pride together; "it was his very voice too." "I meant to have spoken to her on poor M'Gruder's be- half, — I promised him I would ; but if you tell me it is of no use — " "I tell you more, Tony, — I tell you it would be cruel; it would be worse than cruel," cried she, eagerly. "Then I '11 not do it, and I '11 write to him to-day, and say so, though. Heaven knows, I '11 be sorely puzzled to explain myself; but as he is a true man, he '11 feel that I have done DAilER'S LAST '-PRIVATE AN'D CONFIDENTIAL." 551 all for the best, and that if I have not served his cause it has not been for any lack of the will! " **If you wish it, Tony, I could write to Mr. M'Gruder myself. A letter from an old body like me is sometimes a better means to break a misfortune than one from a younger hand. Age deals more naturally with sorrow, perhaps." "You will be doing a kind thing, my dear mother," said he, as he drew her towards him, "and to a good fellow who deserves well of us." "I want to thank him, besides, for his kindness and care of you, Tony ; so just write his address for me there on that envelope, and I '11 do it at once." **I 'm off for a ramble, mother, till dinner-time," said Tony, taking his hat. "Are you going up to the Abbey, Tony?" "No," said he, blushing slightly. "Because, if you had, I'd have asked you to fetch me some fresh flowers. Dolly is coming to dine with us, and she is so fond of seeing flowers on the centre of the table." "Xo ; I have nothing to do at the Abbey. I 'm off towards Portrush." "Why not go over to the Burnside and fetch Dolly? " said she, carelessly. "Perhaps I may, — that is. if I should find myself in that quarter : but I 'm first of all bent on a profound piece of thoughtfulness or a good smoke, — pretty much the same thing with ?7ie, I believe. So good-bye for a while." His mother looked after him with loving eyes till the tears dulled them; but there are teare which fall on the affections as the dew falls on flowers, and these were of that number. *'His own father, — his own father!" muttered she, as she followed the stalwart figure till it was lost in the distance. CHAPTER LXIIL AT THE COTTAGE BESIDE THE CAUSEWAY, I MUST use more discretion as to Mrs. Butler's correspond- ence than I have employed respecting Skeff Darner's. What she wrote on that morning is not to be recorded here. It will be enough if I say that her letter was not alone a kind one, but that it thoroughly convinced him who read it that her view was wise and true, and that it would be as useless as ungenerous to press Dolly further, or ask for that love which was not hers to give. It was a rare event with her to have to write a letter. It was not, either, a very easy task ; but if she had not the gift of facile expression, she had another still better for her purpose, — an honest nature steadfastly determined to perform a duty. She knew her subject, too, and treated it with candor, while with delicacy. While she wrote, Tony strolled along, puffing his cigar or re-lighting it, for it was always going out, and dreaming away in his own misty fashion over things past, present, and future, till really the actual and the ideal became so thoroughly commingled he could not well distinguish one from the other. He thought — he knew, indeed, he ought to be very happy. All his anxieties as to a career and a livelihood ended, he felt that a very enjoyable existence might lie before him; but somehow, — he hoped he was not ungrateful, — but somehow he was not so perfectly happ}^ as he supposed his good fortune should have made him. "Perhaps it will come later on; perhaps when I am active and employed ; perhaps when I shall have learned to interest myself in the things money brings around a man ; perhaps, too, when I can forget, — ay, that was the lesson was hard- AT THE COTTAGE BESIDE THE CAUSEWAY. 553 est of all." All these passing thoughts, a good deal dashed through each other, scarcely contributed to enlighten his faculties ; and he rambled on over rocks and yellow strand, up hillsides, and through fern-clad valleys, not in the least mindful of whither he was going. At last he suddenly halted, and saw he was in the shrub- beries of Lyle Abbey, his steps having out of old habit taken the one same path they had followed for many a year. The place was just as he had seen it last. Trees make no mar- vellous progress in the north of Ireland, and a longer absence than Tony's would leave them just as they were before. All was neat, orderly, and well kept ; and the heaps of dried leaves and brushwood ready to be wheeled away, stood there as he saw them when he last walked that way with Alice. He was poor then, without a career, or almost a hope of one; and yet it was possible, could it be possible, that he was happier then than he now felt? Was it that love sufficed for all, and that the heart so filled had no room for other thoughts than those of her it worshipped? He cer- tainly had loved her greatly. She, — she alone made up that world in which he had lived. Her smile, her step, her laugh, her voice, — ay, there they were, all before him. What a dream it was ! Only a dream, after all ; for she never cared for him. She had led him on to love her, half in caprice, half in a sort of compassionate interest for a poor boy, — boy she called him, — to whom a passion for one above him was certain to elevate and exalt him in his own esteem. "Very kind, doubtless," muttered he, "but very cruel too. She might have remembered that this same dream was to have a very rough awaking. I had built nearly every hope, upon one, and that one, she well knew, was never to be realized. It might not have been the most gracious way to do it, but I declare it would have been the most merciful, to have treated me as her mother did, who snubbed my preten- sions at once. It was all right that I should recognize her superiority over me in a hundred waj^s; but perhaps she should not have kept it so continually in mind, as a sort of barrier against a warmer feeling for me. I suppose this is the fine-lady view of the matter. This is the theory that young fellows are to be civilized, as they call it, by a pas- 554 TONY BUTLEK. sion for a woman who is to amuse herself by their extrava- gances, and then ask their gratitude for having deceived them. *'I'll be shot if I am grateful," said he, as he threw his cigar into the pond. "I 'm astonished — amazed — now that it's all over" (^here his voice shook a little), "that my stupid vanity could ever have led me to think of her, or that I ever mistook that patronizing way she had towards me for more than good-nature. But, I take it, there are scores of fellows who have had the selfsame experiences. Here 's the seat I made for her," muttered he, as he came in front of a rustic bench. For a moment a savage thought crossed him that he would break it in pieces, and throw the fragments into the lake, — a sort of jealous anger lest some day or other she might sit there with "another;" but he restrained him- self, and said, "Better not; better let her see that her civil- izing process has done something, and that though I have lost my game I can bear my defeat becomingly." He began to wish that she were there at that moment. Not that he might renew his vows of love, or repledge his affection ; but to show her how calm and reasonable — ay, reasonable was her favorite word — he could be, how col- lectedly he could listen to her, and how composedly reply. He strolled up to the entrance door. It was open. The servants were busy in preparing for the arrival of their masters, who were expected within the week. All were delighted to see Master Tony again, and the words some- how rather grated on his ears. It was another reminder of that same "boyhood" he bore such a grudge against. "I am going to have a look out of the small drawing-room win- dow, Mrs. Hayles," said he to the housekeeper, cutting short her congratulations, and hurrying upstairs. It was true he went up for a view ; but not of the coast- line to Fairhead, fine as it was. It was of a full-length portrait of Alice, life-size, by Grant. She was standing beside her horse, — the Arab Tony trained for her. A braid of her hair had fallen, and she was in the act of arranging it, while one hand held up her drooping riding- dress. There was that in the air and attitude that bespoke a certain embarrassment with a sense of humorous enjoy- AT THE COTTAGE BESIDE THE CAUSEWAY. 555 ment of the dilemma. A sketch from Hfe, in fact, had given the idea of the picture, and the reality of the incident was unquestionable. Tony blushed a deep crimson as he looked, and muttered, "The very smile she had on when she said good-bye. I wonder I never knew her till now." A favorite myrtle of hers stood in the window; he broke off a sprig of it, and placed it in his button-hole, and then slowly passed down the stairs and out into the lawn. "With very sombre thoughts and slow steps he retraced his way to the cottage. He went over to himself much of his past life, and saw it, as very young men will often in such retro- spects, far less favorably as regarded himself than it really was. He ought to have done — Heaven knows what. He ought to have been — scores of things which he never was, perhaps never could be. At all events, there was one thing he never should have imagined, that Alice Lyle — she was Alice Lyle always to him — in her treatment of him was ever more closely drawn towards him than the others of her family. "It was simply the mingled kindness and caprice of her nature that made the difference; and if I had n't been a vain fool, I 'd have seen it. I see it now, though ; I can read it in the very smile she has in her pic- ture. To be sure I have learned a good deal since I was here last; I have outgrown a good many illusions. I once imagined this dwarfed and stinted scrub to be a wood. I fancied the Abbey to be like a royal palace; and in Sicily a whole battalion of ns have bivouacked in a hall that led to suites of rooms without number. If a mere glimpse of the world could reveal such astounding truths, what might not come of a more lengthened experience? " "How tired and weary you look, Tony! " said his mother, as he threw himself into a chair; "have you overwalked yourself ? " "I suppose so," said he, with a half smile. "In my poorer days I thought nothing of going to the Abbey and back twice — I have done it even thrice — in one day ; but perhaps this weight of gold I carry now is too heavy for me." "I'd like to see you look more grateful for your good for tune, Tony," said she, gravely. 556 TONY BUTLER. "I'm not ungrateful, mother; but up to this I have not thought much of the matter. I suspect, however, I was never designed for a life of ease and enjoyment. Do you remember what Dr. Stewart said one day? — ' You may put a weed in a garden, and dig round it and water it, and it will only grow to be a big weed after all. ' " "I hope better from Tony, — far better," said she, sharply. "Have you answered McCarthy's letter? Have you arranged where you are to meet the lawyers ? " "I have said in Dublin. They couldn't come here, mother; we have no room for them in this crib." "You must not call it a ' crib ' for ail that. It sheltered your father once, and he carried a very high head, Tony." "And for that very reason, dear mother, I'm going to make it our own home henceforth, — without you'd rather go and live in that old manor-house on the Nore ; they tell me it is beautiful." "It was there your father was born, and I long to see it," said she, with emotion. "Who's that coming in at the gate, Tony ? " "It is Dolly," said he, rising, and going to the door to meet her. "My dear Dolly," cried he, as he embraced her, and kissed her on either cheek; "this brings me back to old times at once." If it was nothing else, the total change in Tony's appear- ance abashed her, the bronzed and bearded man, looking many years older than he was, seemed little like the Tony she had seen last; and so she half shrank back from his embrace, and, with a flushed cheek and almost constrained manner, muttered some words of recognition. "How well you are looking," said he, staring at her, as she took off her bonnet, "and the nice glossy hair has all grow^n again, and I vow it is brighter and silkier than ever." "What's all this flattery about bright een and silky locks I'm listening to?" said the old lady, coming out laughing into the hall. "It's Master Tony displaying his foreign graces at my expense, ma'am," said Dolly, with a smile. AT THE COTTAGE BESIDE THE CAUSEWAY. 557 *'T^^ould you have known him again, Dolly? AYoiild you have thought that great hairy creature there was our Tony ? " "I think he is changed, — a good deal changed," said Dolly, without looking at him. "I did n't quite like it at first; but I 'm partly getting used to it now ; and though the Colonel never wore a beard on his upper lip, Tony's more like him now than ever." The old lady continued to ramble on about the points of resemblance between the father and son, and where certain traits of manner and voice were held in common; and though neither Tony nor Dolly gave much heed to her words, they were equally grateful to her for talking. "And where 's the doctor, Dolly? Are we not to see him at dinner? " "Not to-day, ma'am; he's gone over to M'Laidlaw's to make some arrangements about this scheme of ours, — the banishment, he calls it." "And is it possible, Dolh^ that he can seriously contem- plate such a step ? " asked Tony, gravely. "Yes; and very seriously too." "And you, Dolly; what do you say to it?" *'I say to it what I have often said to a difficulty, what the old Scotch adage saj^s of ' the stout heart to the stey brae.'" "And you might have found more comforting words, lassie, — bow the winds can be tempered to the shorn lamb," said the old lady, almost rebukefully; and Dolly drooped her head in silence. "I think it's a bad scheme," said Tony, boldly, and as though not hearing his mother's remark. "For a man at the doctor's age to go to the other end of the globe, to live in a new land, and make new friendships at his time of life, is, I'm sure, a mistake." "That supposes that we have a choice; but my father thinks we have no choice." "I cannot see that. I cannot see that what a man has borne for five-and-thirty or forty years — he has been that long at the Burnside — I believe he can endure still longer. I must have a talk with him myself over it." And uncon- sciously — quite unconsciously — Tony uttered the last 558 TONY BUTLER. words with a bigh-sounding importance, so certain is it that in a man's worldly wealth there is a store of self-confidence that no mere qualities of head or heart can ever supply; and Dolly almost smiled at the assured tone and the confi- dent manner of her former playfellow. "My father will be glad to see you, Tony, — he wants to hear all about your campaigns ; he was trying two nights ago to follow you on the map, but it was such a bad one he had to give up the attempt." "I'll give you mine," cried the old lady, — "the map Tony brought over to myself. I '11 no just give it, but I '11 lend it to you; and there's a cross wherever there was a battle, and a red cross wherever Tony was wounded." "Pooh, pooh, mother! don't worry Dolly about these things ; she 'd rather hear of pleasanter themes than battles and battle-fields. And here is one already, — Jeanie says, * dinner.' " "Where did you find your sprig of myrtle at this time?" asked Dolly, as Tony led her in to dinner. "I got it at the Abbey. I strolled up there to-day," said he, in a half-confusion. "Will you have it?" "No," said she, curtly. "Neither will I, then," cried he, tearing it out of his button-hole and throwing it away. What a long journey in life can be taken in the few steps from the drawing-room to the dinner-table ! CHAPTER LXIV. THE END. As Dr. Stewart had many friends to consult and many visits to make, — some of them, as he imagined, farewell ones, — Dolly was persuaded, but not without difficulty, to take up her residence at the cottage till she should be able to return home. And a very pleasant week it was. To the old lady it was almost perfect happiness. She had her dear Tony back with her after all his dangers and escapes, safe and sound, and in such spirits as she had never seen him before. Not a cloud, not a shadow, now ever darkened his bright face ; all was good-humor, and thoughtful kindness for her- self and for Dolly. And poor Dolly, too, with some anxious cares at her heart, — a load that would have crushed many, — bore up so well that she looked as cheery as the others, and entered into all the plans that Tony formed about his future house, and his gardens and stables, as though many a hundred leagues of ocean were not soon to roll between her and the spots she traced so eagerly on the paper. One evening they sat even later than usual. Tony had induced Dolly, who was very clever with her pencil, to make him a sketch for a little ornamental cottage, — one of those uninhabitable little homesteads, which are immensely suggestive of all the com- forts they would utterly fail to realize; and he leaned over her as she drew, and his arm was on the back of her chair, and his face so close at times that it almost touched the braids of the silky hair beside him. "You must make a porch there, Dolly; it would be so nice to sit there with that noble view down the glen at one's feet, and three distinct reaches of the Nore visible." "Yes, I'll make a pOrch; I'll even make you yourself lounging in it. See, it shall be perfect bliss ! " 560 TONY BUTLER. ^'Wbat does that mean?" *'That means smoke, sir; you are enjoying the heavenly luxury of tobacco, not the less intensely that it obscures the view." "No, Dolly, I'll not have that. If you put me there, don't have me smoking ; make me sitting beside you as we are now, — you drawing, and I looking over you." " But I want to be a prophet as well as a painter, Tony. I desire to predict something that will be sure to happen, if you should ever build this cottage." " I swear I will, — I 'm resolved on it." " Well, then, so sure as you do, and so sure as you sit in that little honeysuckle-covered porch, you '11 smoke." "And why not do as I say? Why not make you sketching — " " Because I shall not be sketching; because, by the time your cottage is finished, I shall probably be sketching a Maori chief, or a war-party bivouacking on the Raki-Raki." Tony drew away his arm and leaned back in his chair, a sense almost of faintish sickness creeping over him. "Here are the dogs too," continued she. "Here is Lance with his great majestic face, and here Gertrude with her fine pointed nose and piercing eyes, and here's little Spicer as saucy and pert as I can make him without color ; for one ought to have a little carmine for the corner of his eye, and a slight tinge to accent the tip of his nose. Shall I add all your ' emblems,' as they call them, and put in the fishing-rods against the wall, and the landing-net, and the guns and pouches?" She went on sketching with inconceivable rapidity, the drawing keeping pace almost with her words. But Tony no longer took the interest he had done before in the picture, but seemed lost in some deep and difficult reflection. " Shall we have a bridge — a mere plank will do — over the river here, Tony? and then this zigzag pathway will be a short way up to the cottage." He never heard her words, but arose and left the room. He passed out into the little garden in front of the house, and, leaning on the gate> looked out into the dark still night. THE END. 561 Poor Tony ! impenetrable as that darkness was, it was not more difficult to peer through than the thick mist that gathered around his thoughts. '* Is that Tony?" cried his mother from the doorway. "Yes," said he, moodily, for he wanted to be left to his own thoughts. " Come here, Tony, and see what a fine manly letter your friend Mr. M'Gruder writes in answer to mine." Tony was at her side in an instant, and almost tore the letter in his eagerness to read it. It was very brief, but well deserved all she had said of it. With a delicacy which perhaps might scarcely have been looked for in a man so educated and brought up, he seemed to appreciate the exist- ence of a secret he had no right to question ; and bitterly as the resolve cost him, he declared that he had no longer a claim on Dolly's affection. "I scarcely understand him, mother; do you?" asked Tony. "It's not very hard to understand, Tony," said she, gravely. " Mr. M'Gruder sees that Dolly Stewart could not have given him her love and affection as a man's wife ought to give, and he would be ashamed to take her without it." "But why couldn't she? Sam seems to have a sort of suspicion as to the reason, and I cannot guess it." "If he does suspect, he has the nice feeling of a man of honor, and sees that it is not for one placed as he is to question it." "If any man were to say to me, ' Read that letter, and tell me what does it infer,' I 'd say the writer thought that the girl he wanted to marry liked some else." "Well, there's one point placed beyond an inference, Tony; the engagement is ended, and she is free." " I suppose she is very happy at it." "Poor Dolly has little heart for happiness just now. It was a little before dinner a note came from the doctor to say that all the friends he had consulted advised him to go out, and were ready and willing to assist him in every way to make the journey. As January is the stormy month in these seas, they all recommended his sailing as soon as he possibly 36 562 TONY BUTLER. could ; and the poor man says very feelingly, ' To-morrow, mayhap, will be my farewell sermon to those who have sat under me eight-aud-forty years.' " '' Why did you not make some proposal like what I spoke of, mother?" asked he, almost peevishly. " I tried to do it, Tony, but he would n't hear of it. He has a pride of his own that is very dangerous to wound, and he stopped me at once, saying, ' I hope I mistake your meaning ; but lest I should not, say no more of this for the sake of our old friendship.'" '^I call such pride downright want of feeling. It is neither more nor less than consummate selfishness." "Don't tell him so, Tony, or maybe you 'd fare worse in the argument. He has a wise, deep head, the doctor." " I wish he had a little heart with it," said Tony, sulkily, and turned again into the garden. Twice did Jeanie summon him to tea, but he paid no attention to the call; so engrossed, indeed, was he by his thoughts, that he even forgot to smoke, and not impossibly the want of his accustomed weed added to his other embarrassments. '' Miss Dolly 's for ganging hame, Master Tony," said the maid at last, " and the mistress wants you to go wi' her." As Tony entered the hall, Dolly was preparing for the road. Coquetry was certainly the least of her accomplish- ments, and yet there was something that almost verged on it in the hood she wore, instead of a bonnet, lined with some plushy material of a rich cherry color, and forming a frame around her face that set off all her features to the greatest advantage. Never did her eyes look bluer or deeper, — never did the gentle beauty of her face light up with more of brilliancy. Tony never knew with what rap- ture he was gazing on her till he saw that she was blushing under his fixed stare. The leave-taking between Mrs. Butler and Dolly was more than usually affectionate ; and even after they had separated, the old lady called her back and kissed her again. '' I don't know how mother will bear up after you leave her," muttered Tony, as he walked along at Dolly's side ; "she is fonder of you than ever." THE END. 563 Dolly murmured something, but inaudibly. *'Fur uiy owu part," continued Tony, "I can't believe this step necessary at all. It would be an ineffable disgrace to the whole neighborhood to let one we love and revere as we do him, go away in his old age, one may say, to seek his fortune. He belongs to us, and we to him. We have been linked together for years, and I can't bear the thought of our separating." This was a very long speech for Tony, and he felt almost fatigued when it was finished ; but Dolly was silent, and there was no means by which he could guess the effect it had produced upon her. "As to my mother," continued he, "she'd not care to live here any longer, — 1 know it. I don't speak of myself, because it 's the habit to think I don't care for any one or anything, — that's the estimate people form of mc^ and I must bear it as I can." " It 's less than just, Tony," said Dolly, gravely. " Oh, if I am to ask for justice, Dolly, I shall get the worst of it," said he, laughing, but not merrily. For a while they walked on without a word on either side. " What a calm night! " said Dolly. " and how large the stars look ! They tell me that in southern latitudes they seem immense." *' You are not sorry to leave this, Dolly?" murmured he, gloomily ; " are you? " A very faint sigh was all her answer. "• I 'm sure no one could blame you," he continued. " There is not much to attach any one to the place, except, perhaps, a half-savage like myself, who finds its ruggedness congenial." "But you will scarcely remain here, now, Tony; you'll be more likely to settle at Butler Hall, won't you ? " " Wherever I settle it sha'n't be here, after you have left it," said he, with energy. " Sir Arthur Lyle and his family are all coming back in a few days, I hear." "So they may; it matters little to me, Dolly. Shall I tell 3^ou a secret? Take m}^ arm, Dolly, — the path is rough here, — you may as well lean on me. We are not likely to 564 TONY BUTLER. have many more walks together. Oh dear ! if you were as sorry as I am, what a sad stroll this would be ! " '^ What's your secret, Tony? " asked she, in a faint voice. "Ah! my secret, my secret," said he, ponderingly : "I don't know why I called it a secret, — but here is what I meant. You remember, Dolly, how I used to live up there at the Abbey formerly. It was just like my home. I ordered all the people about just as if they had been my own servants, — and, indeed, they minded my orders more than their master's. The habit grew so strong upon me, of being obej^ed and followed, that I suppose I must have forgot my own real condition I take it I must have lost sight of who and what I actually was, till one of the sous — a young fellow in the service in India — came back and contrived to let me make the discovery, that, though I never knew it, I was really living the life of a dependant. I '11 not tell you how this stung me, but it did sting me — all the more that I believed, I fancied, myself — don't laugh at me — but I reall}^ imagined I was in love with one of the girls — Alice. She was Alice Trafford then." " I had heard of that," said Dolly, in a faint voice. "Well, she too undeceived me — not exactly as unfeel- ingly nor as offensively as her brother, but just as explicitly — you know what I mean?" "No; tell me more clearly," said she, eagerly. " I don't know how to tell you. It 's a long story, — that is to say, I was a long while under a delusion, and she was a long while indulging it. Fine ladies, I'm told, do this sort of thing when they take a caprice into their heads to civilize young barbarians of m}^ stamp." " That's not the generous way to look at it, Tony." " I don't want to be generous, — the adage says one ought to begin by being just. Skeffy — you know w^hom I mean, Skeff Darner — saw it clearly enough — he warned me about it. And what a clever fellow he is ! Would you believe it, Dolly? he actually knew all the time that I was not really in love when I thought I was. He knew that it was a some- thing made up of romance and ambition and boyish vanity, and that my heart, my real heart, was never in it." Dolly shook her head, but whether in dissent or in sorrow it was not easy to say. ^ THE END. 565 *' Shall I tell you more? " cried Tony, as he drew her arm closer to him, aud took her hand in his ; " shall I tell you more, Dolly? Skeff read me as I could not read myself. He said to me, ' Tony, this is no case of love, it is the flat- tered vanity of a very young fellow to be distinguished not alone by the prettiest, but the most petted woman of society. Fo^^,' said he, ' are receiving all the homage paid to her at second-hand.* But more than all this, Dolly ; he not merely saw that I was not in love with Alice Trafford, but he saw with whom my heart was bound up, for many and many a year." " Her sister, her sister Bella," whispered Dolly. "No, but with yourself, my own own Dolly," cried he; and turning, and before she could prevent it, he clasped her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. "Oh, Tony!" said she, sobbing, "you that I trusted, you that I confided in, to treat me thus." "It is that my heart is bursting, Dolly, with this long pent-up love, for I now know I have loved you all my life long Don't be angry with me, my darling Dolly ; I 'd rather die at your feet than hear an angry word from you. Tell me if you can care for me ; oh, tell me, if I strive to be all you could like and love, that you will not refuse to be my own." She tried to disengage herself from his arm ; she trembled, heaved a deep sigh, and fell with her head on his shoulder. " And you are my own," said he, again kissing her; " and now the wide world has not so happy a heart as mine." Of those characters of my story who met happiness, it is as well to say no more. A more cunning craftsman than myself has told us that the less we track human life the more cheerily we shall speak of it. Let us presume, and it is no unfair presumption, that, as Tony's life was sur- rounded with a liberal share of those gifts which make exist- ence pleasurable, he was neither ungrateful nor unmindful of them. Of Dolly I hope there need be no doubt. " The guid dochter is the best warrant for the guid wife : " so said her father, and he said truly. In the diary of a Spanish guerilla chief, there is mention 566 TONY BUTLER. of a '' nobile Iiiglese," who met him at Malta, to confer over the possibility of a landing in Calabria, and the chances of a successful rising there. The Spaniard speaks of this man as a person of rank, education, and talents, high in the confi- dence of the Court, and evidently warmly interested in the cause. He w^as taken prisoner by the Piedmontese troops on the third day after they landed, and, though repeatedly offered life under conditions it would have been no dishonor to accept, was tried by court-martial, and shot. There is reason to believe that the " nobile lugiese " was Maitland. From the window where I write, I can see the promenade on the Pincian Hill ; and if my eyes do not deceive me, I can perceive that at times the groups are broken, and the loungers fall back, to permit some one to pass. I have called the waiter to explain the curious circumstance, and asked if it be royalty that is so deferentially acknowledged. He smiles, and says: ^'No. It is the major domo of the palace exacts the respect you see. He can do what he likes at Rome. Antonelli himself is not greater than the Count M'Caskey." As some^ unlettered guide leads the traveller to the verge of a cliff, from which the glorious landscape beneath is visible, and winding river and embowered homestead, and swelling plain and far-off mountain, are all spread out beneath for the eye to revel over, so do I place you, my valued reader, on that spot from which the future can be seen, and modestly retire that you may gaze in peace, weaving your own fancies at will, and investing the scene before you with such images and such interests as best befit it. M]j part is done : if I have suggested something for yours^ it will not be all in vain that I have written '' Tony Butler.'' THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. MAY 15 «»rT* ^f\ LD 21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 193079 >