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 mv 6
 
 -..r l^"^"
 
 TONY BFTLEE
 
 ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE
 
 TONY BUTLER 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXV 
 
 The Right of Translation is reserved
 
 ^^3 
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE COTTAGE BESIDE "THE CAUSEWAY." 
 
 In a little cleft, not deep enough to be a gorge, 
 
 between two grassy hills, traversed by a clear 
 
 stream, too small to be called a river, too wide to 
 
 r be a rivulet, stood, and, I believe, still stands, a 
 
 little cottage, whose one bay-window elevates it 
 
 ( above the condition of a labouring man's, and 
 
 ']^ shows, in its spacious large-paned proportions, 
 
 '^ pretensions to taste as well as station. From that 
 
 ^ window a coast-line can be seen to which nothing 
 
 ;^ in the kingdom can find the equal. It takes in the 
 
 ^^ bold curve of shore from the " AVliite Eocks " to the 
 
 Giant's Causeway — a sweep of coast broken by 
 
 ; jutting headland and promontory, with sandy bays 
 
 VOL. L A
 
 2 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 nestling between gigantic walls of pillared rock, 
 and showing beneath the green water the tesselated 
 pavement of those broken shafts which our super- 
 stition calls Titanic. The desolate rock and ruin 
 of Dunluce, the fairy bridge of Carrig-a-Eede, are 
 visible ; and on a commonly clear day Staffa can 
 be seen, its outline only carrying out the strange 
 formation of the columnar rocks close at hand. 
 
 This cottage, humble enough in itself, is not 
 relieved in its aspect by the culture around it. A 
 small vegetable garden, rudely fenced with a dry- 
 stone wall, is the only piece of vegetation, for the 
 cutting winds of the ]N"orth Sea are unfriendly to 
 trees, and the light sandy soil of the hills only 
 favours the fern and the foxglove. Of these, in- 
 deed, the growth is luxuriant, and the path which 
 leads down from the highroad to the cottage is cut 
 through what might be called a grove of these leafy 
 greeneries. This same path was not much tra- 
 versed, and more than once within the year was the 
 billhook required to keep it open, so little inter- 
 course was maintained between the cottage and the 
 world, whose frontier lay about a mile off. A 
 widow and her son, with one servant, were the 
 occupants. It had been a fishing-lodge of her hus- 
 band's in more prosperous days. His memory and
 
 TONY BUTLER. 3 
 
 the cheapness of life in the neighbourhood had 
 decided her in choosing it, lonely and secluded as 
 it was ; and here she had passed fourteen years, 
 her whole care being the education of her boy, a 
 task to which she addressed herself with all the 
 zeal and devotion of her nature. There was, it is 
 true, a village school at Ballintray, about three 
 miles off, to which he went in summer ; but when 
 the dark short days of winter set in with swooping 
 storms of rain and wind, she held him, so far as 
 she could, close prisoner, and pored with him over 
 tasks to the full as difficult to herself as to him. 
 So far as a fine, open-hearted, generous disposition, 
 truthful and straightforward, could make him, he 
 repaid all the love and affection she could bear 
 him. He was well-grown, good-looking, and brave. 
 There was scarcely an exercise of which he was not 
 master ; and whether in the saddle over a stiff 
 country, or on the thwart of a boat in a stormy 
 sea, Tony Butler could hold his own against all 
 competitors. The leap of twenty feet four inches 
 he had made on the level sward was one of the 
 show objects of the village, and the place where he 
 had pitched a fourteen-pound sledge to the top of a 
 cliff was marked by a stone with a rude attempt at 
 an inscription. Fortunate was he if these were
 
 4 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 enough for glory, for his gifts scarcely rose to 
 higher things. He was not clever, nor was he very 
 teachable ; his apprehension was not quick, and his 
 memory was bad. The same scatterbrained forget- 
 fulness that he had in little things attended him in 
 more serious ones. Whenever his intellect was 
 called on for a great effort he was sure to be van- 
 quished, and he would sit for hours before an open 
 book as hopeless of mastering it as though the 
 volume were close-clasped and locked before him. 
 Dull men are not generally alive to their own dul- 
 ness, but Tony was — he saw and felt it very bit- 
 terly. He thought, it is true, that there ought to 
 be a way to his intellect, if it could only be dis- 
 covered, but he owned to himself he had not found 
 it ; and, ^dth some lingering hope of it, he would 
 carry his books to his room and sit down to them 
 with a resolute heart, and ponder, and puzzle, and 
 wonder, till he either fell asleep over the pages, or 
 felt the scalding tears blinding him with the con- 
 scious thought that he was not equal to the task 
 before him. 
 
 Strange enough, his mother, cheated by that love 
 which filled every avenue of her heart, marked 
 little of this. She thought that Tony had no great 
 taste for music, nor patience enough for drawing.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 6 
 
 She fancied lie deemed history dry, and rather 
 undervalued geography. If he hated French, it 
 was because he was such an intense Anglican ; and 
 as to figures, his poor dear father had no great skill 
 in them, and indeed his ruined fortune came of 
 tampering with them. Though thus, item by item, 
 she would have been reduced to own that Tony was 
 not much of a scholar, she would unhesitatingly 
 have declared that he was a remarkably gifted boy, 
 and equal to any condition he could be called to 
 fulfil. There was this much of excuse for her 
 credulity — he was a universal favourite. There 
 was not a person of any class who had other than a 
 good word for him ; and this, be it remarked, in a 
 country where people fall into few raptures, and are 
 rarely enthusiasts. The north of Ireland is indeed 
 as cold a soil for the affections as it is ungenial 
 in its vegetation. Love finds it just as hard to 
 thrive as the young larch-trees, nipped as they are 
 by cutting winds and sleety storms ; and to have 
 won favour where it is weighed out so scrupu- 
 lously, implied no petty desert. There is, however, 
 a rigid sense of justice which never denies to accord 
 its due to each. Tony had gained his reputation 
 by an honest verdict, the award of a jury who had 
 seen him from his childhood and knew him well
 
 6 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 The great house of the county was Sir Arthur 
 Lyle's, and there Tony Butler almost might be said 
 to live. His word was law in the stables, the 
 kennel, the plantations, and the boat-quay. All 
 liked him. Sir Arthur, a stern but hearty old 
 Anglo-Indian; my lady, a fine specimen of town 
 pretension and exclusiveness, cultivated to its last 
 perfection by Oriental indulgence. Isabella — a 
 beauty and a fortune — about to shine at the next 
 drawing-room, liked him ; and the widowed daugh- 
 ter of the house, Mrs Trafford, whom many deemed 
 handsomer than her sister, and whose tact and 
 worldly skill made even beauty but one of her 
 attractions, said, he was " a fine creature," and " it 
 was a thousand pities he had not a good estate and 
 a title." Sir Arthur's sons, three in number, were 
 all in India ; the two elder in high civil appoint- 
 ments, the younger serving in a regiment of 
 hussars. Their sisters, however, constantly as- 
 sured Tony that George, Henry, and Mark would 
 be so fond of him, especially Mark, who was the 
 soldier, and who would be charmed to meet with 
 one so fond of all his own pursuits. 
 
 It was with sincere pride Mrs Butler saw her 
 son in such favour at the great house — that princely 
 place to which the company came from remote
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 7 
 
 parts of the kingdom, and to mix with which the 
 neighbouring gentry were only admitted sparingly 
 and at rare intervals ; for Sir Arthur's wealth was 
 to society a sort of crushing power, a kind of social 
 ^tTasmyth hammer, that smashed and ground down 
 whatever came beneath it. Wo small distinction 
 was it, therefore, for the widow's son to be there ; 
 not merely admitted and on sufferance, but en- 
 couraged, liked, and made much of. Sir Arthur 
 had knoAvn Tony's father in India, long long years 
 ago ; indeed it was when Sir Arthur was a very 
 small civil servant, and Captain Butler was a gor- 
 geous aide-de-camp on the Governor-General's staff; 
 and strange it was, the respect with which the 
 brilliant soldier then inspired him had survived 
 through all the changes and advancements of a suc- 
 cessful life, and the likeness the youth bore to his 
 father assisted to strengthen this sentiment. He 
 would have noticed the widow, too, if she had been 
 disposed to accept his attentions ; but she refused 
 all invitations to leave her home, and save at the 
 little meeting-house on a Sunday, where her friend 
 Dr Stewart held forth, was never seen beyond the 
 paling of her garden. 
 
 What career Tony was to follow, what he was to 
 do, was an oft-debated question between her and
 
 8 TONY BUTLER 
 
 Dr Stewart, her worthy adviser in spirituals ; and 
 though it was the ever-recurring subject as they sat 
 of an evening in the porch, the solution seemed just 
 as remote as ever — Mrs Butler averring that there 
 was nothing that with a little practice he couldn't 
 do, and the minister sighingly protesting that the 
 world was very full just now, and there was just 
 barely enough for those who were in it. 
 
 "What does he incline to himself, madam?" 
 asked the worthy man, as he saw that his speech 
 had rather a discouraging effect. 
 
 " He'd like to follow his father's career, and be a 
 soldier." 
 
 "Oh dear!" sighed out the minister; "a man 
 must be rich enough to do without' a livelihood that 
 takes to that one. What would you say to the sea ? " 
 
 " He's too old for the navy. Tony will be twenty 
 in August." 
 
 The minister would have liked to hint that other 
 ships went down into the " great waters" as well 
 as those that carried Her Majesty's bunting, but 
 he was faint-hearted and silent. 
 
 " I take it," said he, after a pause, " that he has 
 no great mind for the learned professions, as they 
 call them?" 
 
 " No inclination whatever, and I cannot say I'm
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 9 
 
 sorry for it. My poor boy would be lost in that 
 great ocean of worldliness and self-seeking. I don't 
 mean if he were to go into the Church," said she, 
 blushing crimson at the awkwardness of her speech, 
 " but you know he has no vocation for holy orders, 
 and such a choice would be therefore impossible." 
 
 " I'm thinking it would not be his line neither," 
 said the old man, dryly. " What o' the mercantile 
 pursuits? You shake your head. Well, there's 
 farming?" 
 
 " Farming, my dear Dr Stewart — farming means 
 at least some thousand pounds capital, backed by 
 considerable experience, and, I fear me, my poor 
 Tony is about as wanting in one as in the other." 
 
 " AVell, ma'am, if the lad can neither be a soldier 
 nor a sailor, nor a merchant, nor a farmer, nor will 
 be a lawyer, a doctor, or a preacher o' the Word, I'm 
 sore pushed to say what there's open to him, except 
 some light business in the way of a shop, or an agency 
 like, which maybe you'd think beneath you." 
 
 "I'm certain my son would, sir; and no great 
 shame either that Colonel Walter Butler's son should 
 think so — a C.B. and a Guelph of Hanover, though 
 he never wore the decoration. It is not so easy for 
 us to forget these things as it is for our friends." 
 
 This was rather cruel, particularly to one who
 
 10 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 had been doing his best to pilot himself through the 
 crooked channels of difficulties, and was just begin- 
 ning to hope he was in deep water. 
 
 " Wouldn't the Colonel's friends be likely to give 
 him a helping hand?" said the minister, timidly, 
 and like one not quite sure of his ground. 
 
 " I have not asked them, nor is it likely that I 
 will," said she, sternly ; then, seeing in the old 
 man's face the dismay and discouragement her 
 speech had produced, she added, "My husband'^ 
 only brother. Sir Omerod Butler, was not on speak- 
 ing terms with him for years— indeed, from the time 
 of our marriage. Eleanor Mackay, the Presbyterian 
 minister's daughter, was thought a mesalliance; 
 and maybe it was — I won't deny it. Doctor. It 
 was deemed a great rise in the world to me, though 
 I never felt it exactly in that way myself It was 
 my pride to think my husband a far greater man 
 than any of his family, and it was his to say I had 
 helped him to become so." 
 
 "I've heard o' that too," was the cautious rejoinder 
 of the old minister. 
 
 The memories thus suddenly brought up were too 
 much for the poor widow's composure, and she had 
 to turn away and wipe the tears from her eyes. 
 "Yes, sir," said she at last, "my noble -hearted
 
 TONY BUTLER. 11 
 
 husband was made to feel through his whole life 
 the scorn of those who would not know his wife, 
 and it is not from such as these my poor boy is to 
 crave assistance. As for Tony himself/' said she, 
 with more energy of voice and manner, " he'd never 
 forgive me if I took such a step." 
 
 The good minister would fain have rebuked the 
 indulgence of sentiments like these, which had little 
 of forgiveness in their nature. He felt sorely tempted 
 to make the occasion profitable by a word in season ; 
 but his sagacity tempered his zeal, and he simply 
 said, " Let byganes be byganes, Mrs Butler, or at all 
 events let them not come back like troubled spirits 
 to disturb the future." 
 
 " I will do my best. Doctor," said she, calmly, 
 " and, to do so, I will talk of something else. Can 
 you tell me if there is a Mr Elphinstone in the 
 Ministry now, — in the Cabinet, I mean," said she, 
 correcting herself, for she remembered what the 
 word signifies to Presbyterian ears. 
 
 " There's a Sir Harry Elphinstone, Secretary of 
 State for the Colonies, ma'am." 
 
 "That must be the same, then; my husband 
 always called him Harry ; they were like brothers 
 at the Cape long long ago. Couldn't he do some- 
 thing for Tony, think you ?"
 
 12 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " The very man who could ; and maybe, too, in 
 the very sort of career would suit the lad best of all. 
 He's strong of limb and stout of heart, and has 
 brave health — he's just the man to meet the life 
 and enjoy the very accidents of a new world." 
 
 *' If he could leave me — that is, if I could bear to 
 part with him, Doctor," said she, with a thick utter- 
 ance. 
 
 "These are not days, my dear madam, when a 
 mother can tie a son to her apron. The young 
 birds will leave the nest, make it ever so warm and 
 snug for them ; and it was a wise Providence that 
 so decreed it." 
 
 " Would there be any impropriety in my writing 
 to Mr — Sir Harry Elphinstone ? " asked she. 
 
 "I can see none whatever. It is more than 
 likely that he'll thank you heartily for the chance 
 of serving his old friend's son. Such a great man 
 gives away every day more places than would pro- 
 vide for three generations of either of us ; and it 
 must be a rare pleasure when he can serve the 
 Queen and gladden his own heart together." 
 
 " You'd maybe help me with the letter. Doctor," 
 asked she, half diffidently. 
 
 " Not a doubt of it, ]\Irs Butler ; my poor aid is 
 quite at your service : but hadn't we best, first of
 
 TONY BUTLER. 13 
 
 all, speir a bit, and see what the lad thinks of it ? 
 Let us find out that it's the life he'd take to will- 
 ingly. It's no by way of reproach to him I say it ; 
 but we all know that when a young fellow gets accus- 
 tomed to ride a blood horse with a groom after him, 
 and eat his soup with a damask napkin over his 
 knees, it's a sore change to mount a mustang and 
 digest raw buffalo." 
 
 " If you mean by that, Dr Stewart, that Tony has 
 been spoiled by a life of luxury and indolence, you 
 do him great wrong. The poor dear boy is half 
 heart-broken at times at his purposeless, unprofit- 
 able existence. There are days he is so overcome 
 that he can scarcely lift up his head for it. This 
 very morning was one of them ; and it was only 
 when Sir Arthur sent over a third time to say, ' You 
 must come ; I'll take no excuse '—that I could per- 
 suade him to set off. They are expecting young 
 Captain Lyle to-day, and making all sorts of festive 
 preparations to receive him. Tony has charge of 
 the fireworks ; and as Sir Arthur says, ' If you 
 leave your chemicals to other hands, the chances 
 are we shall all be blown up together.' " 
 
 " I remember the Captain when he was just so 
 high," said the Doctor, holding his hand about three 
 feet from the ground ; he used to come to me every
 
 14 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 Saturday for a lesson in Scripture — smart enough 
 he was, but a proud sort of boy, that kept his class- 
 fellows at a distance, and when the lesson was over 
 would not speak to one of them. He was the 
 baronet's son, and they were the sons of his father's 
 tradespeople. I remember I made a complaint 
 about him once, I forget for what, but he never 
 came to my house after." 
 
 Mrs Butler seemed not to follow the Doctor's 
 speech ; indeed, her whole heart was so set on one 
 object and one theme that it was only by an effort 
 she could address herself to any other. The hum- 
 blest piece in which Tony played was a drama full 
 of interest. Without him the stage had no attraction, 
 and she cared not who were the performers. The 
 Doctor, therefore, was some time before he perceived 
 that his edifying reflections on the sins of pride and 
 self-conceit were unheeded. Long experience had 
 taught him tolerance in such matters ; he had 
 known even elders to nod ; and so he took his hat 
 and said farewell with a good grace, and a promise 
 to help her with her letter to the Secretary of State 
 whenever the time came to write it. 
 
 Late on the night of that day in which this con- 
 versation occurred, Mrs Butler sat at her writing- 
 desk, essaying for the tenth time how to address
 
 TONY BUTLER. 15 
 
 that great man whose favour she would propitiate. 
 Letter- writing had never been her gift, and she dis- 
 trusted her powers even unfairly in this respect. 
 The present was, besides, a case of some difficulty. 
 She knew nothing of the sort of person she was 
 addressing beyond the fact that he and her hus- 
 band, when very young men, lived on terms of close 
 intimacy and friendship. It might be that the 
 great minister had forgotten all about that long ago, 
 or might not care to be reminded of it. It might 
 be that her husband, in his sanguine and warm- 
 hearted way, calculated rather on the affection he 
 bestowed than that he should receive, and so 
 deemed the friendship between them a closer and 
 stronger tie than it was. It might be, too — she 
 had heard of such things — that men in power are 
 so besieged by those who assume to have claims 
 upon them, that they lose temper and patience, and 
 indiscriminately class all such applicants as mere 
 hungry place-hunters, presuming upon some acci- 
 dental meeting — some hap-hazard acquaintance of 
 a few minutes. " And so," said she, " if he has not 
 heard of my husband for thirty-odd years, he may 
 come to look coldly on this letter of mine, and even 
 ask, Wlio is Eleanor Butler, and of whom is she the 
 widow ? I will simply say to him. The son of the
 
 16 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 late Colonel Walter Butler, with whose name his 
 widow believes you are not unacquainted, solicits 
 some assistance on your part, towards — towards — 
 shall I say at once an appointment in one of our 
 colonies, or merely what may forward his pursuits 
 in a new world ? I wish I could hit upon some- 
 thing that will not sound like the everyday tune 
 that must ring in his ears ; but how can I, when 
 what I seek is the selfsame thing ? " 
 
 She leaned her head on her hand in thought, and 
 as she pondered, it occurred to her what her hus- 
 band would have thought of such a step as she was 
 taking. Would Walter have sanctioned it? He 
 was a proud man on such points. He had never 
 asked for anything in his life, and it was one of his 
 sayings — "There was no station that was not too 
 dearly bought at the price of asking for it." She 
 canvassed and debated the question with herself, 
 balancing all that she owed to her husband's mem- 
 ory against all that she ought to attempt for her 
 boy's welfare. It was a matter of no easy solution ; 
 but an accident decided for her what all her reason- 
 ing failed in; for as she sat thinking, a hurried 
 step was heard on the gravel, and then the well- 
 known sound of Tony's latch-key followed, and he 
 entered the room flushed and heated. He was still
 
 TONY BUTLER. 17 
 
 in dinner dress, but his cravat was partly awry, and 
 his look excited and angiy. 
 
 " Why, my dear Tony," said she, rising, and part- 
 ing his hair tenderly on his forehead, " I didn't look 
 for you here to-night ; how came it that you left 
 the Abbey at this hour ? " 
 
 "Wasn't it a very good hour to come home?" 
 answered he, curtly. "We dined at eight; I left 
 at half-past eleven. Nothing very unusual in all 
 that." 
 
 " But you always slept there ; you had that nice 
 room you told me of." 
 
 "Well, I preferred coming home. I suppose 
 that was reason enough." 
 
 "Wliat has happened, Tony, darling? Tell me 
 frankly and fearlessly what it is that has ruffled 
 you. Who has such a right to know it, or, if need 
 be, to sympathise with you, as your own dear 
 mother ? " 
 
 "How you run on, mother, and all about 
 nothing ! I dine out, and I come back a little 
 earlier than my wont, and immediately you find 
 out that some one has outraged or insulted me." 
 
 " Oh, no, no. I never dreamed of that, my dear 
 boy ! " said she, colouring deeply. 
 
 " Well, there's enough about it," said he, pacing 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 the room with hasty strides. "What is that you 
 were saying the other day about a Mr Elphinstone 
 — that he was an old friend of my father's, and 
 that they had chummed together long ago ? " 
 
 " All these scrawls that you see there," said she, 
 pointing to the table, " have been attempts to write 
 to him, Tony. I was trying to ask him to give you 
 some sort of place somewhere." 
 
 *' The very thing I want, mother," said he, with a 
 half-bitter laugh — " some sort of place somewhere." 
 
 " And," continued she, " I was pondering whether 
 it might not be as well to see if Sir Arthur Lyle 
 wouldn't write to some of his friends in power " 
 
 " Why should we ask him ? What has he to do 
 with it?" broke he in, hastily. "I'm not the son 
 of an old steward or family coachman, that I want 
 to go about with a black pocket-book stuffed with 
 recommendatory letters. Write simply and fear- 
 lessly to tliis great man — I don't know his rank — 
 and say whose son I am. Leave me to tell him the 
 rest." 
 
 " My dear Tony, you little know how such people 
 are overwhelmed \vith suchlike applications, and 
 what slight chance there is that you will be distin- 
 guished from the rest." 
 
 " At all events, I shall not have the humiliation
 
 TONY BUTLER. 19 
 
 of a patron. If he will do anything for me, it will 
 
 be for the sake of my father's memory, and I need 
 
 not be ashamed of that." 
 
 "What shall I write, then?" And she took up 
 
 her pen. 
 
 " Sir — I suppose he is Sir; or is he My Lord ?" 
 " No. His name is Sir Harry Elphinstone/' 
 
 " SiE, — The young man who bears this note is the 
 only son of the late Colonel Walter Butler, C.B. 
 He has no fortune, no profession, no friends, and 
 very little ability. Can you place him in any posi- 
 sion where he may acquire some of the three first 
 and can dispense with the last? — Your humble 
 servant, Eleanor Butler." 
 
 " Oh, Tony ! you don't think we could send such 
 a letter as this," said she, with a half-sad smile. 
 
 " I am certain I could deliver it, mother," said he, 
 gravely, "and I'm sure that it would answer its 
 purpose just as well as a more finished composi- 
 tion." 
 
 " Let me at least make a good copy of it," said 
 she, as he folded it up and placed it in an en- 
 velope. 
 
 "No, no," said he; "just write his name, and all
 
 20 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 the fine things that he is sure to be, before and after 
 it, and, as I said before, leave the issue to me." 
 
 " And when would you think of going, Tony 1" 
 
 " To-morrow morning by the steamer that wiU 
 pass this, on the way to Liverpool. I know the 
 captain, and he will give me a passage ; he's always 
 teasing me to take a trip with him." 
 
 "To-morrow! but how could you get ready by 
 to-morrow ? I'll have to look over all your clothes, 
 Tony." 
 
 " My dear little mother," said he, passing his arm 
 round her, and kissing her affectionately, " how easy 
 it is to hold a review where there's only a corporal's 
 guard for inspection! All my efficient movables 
 will fit into a very small portmanteau, and I'll pack 
 it in less than ten minutes." 
 
 " I see no necessity for all this haste, particularly 
 where we have so much to consider and talk over. 
 We ought to consult the Doctor, too ; he's a warm 
 friend, Tony, and bears you a sincere affection." 
 
 " He's a good fellow — I like him anywhere but in 
 the pulpit," muttered he below his breath. " And 
 he'd like to write to his daughter — she's a governess 
 in some family near Putney, I think. I'll go and 
 see her — Dolly and I are old playfellows. I don't 
 know," added he, with a laugh, " whether hockey
 
 TONY BUTLER. 21 
 
 and football are part of a polite female education, 
 but if they be, the pupils that have got Dolly 
 Stewart for their governess are in rare luck." 
 
 " But why must there be all this hurry ? " 
 
 " Because it's a whim of mine, dear little mother. 
 Because — but don't ask me for reasons, after having 
 spoiled me for twenty years, and given me my own 
 way in everything. I've got it into my wise head 
 — and you know what a wise head it is — that I'm 
 going to do something very brilliant. You'U puzzle 
 me awfully if you ask me where or how — so just be 
 generous, and don't push me to the wall." 
 
 " At all events you'll not go without seeing the 
 Doctor?" 
 
 ** That I wiU. I have some experience of him as 
 a questioner in the Scripture-school of a Saturday, 
 and I'll not stand a cross-examination in profane 
 matters from so skilled a hand. Tell liini from me 
 that I had one of my flighty fits on me, and that I 
 knew I'd make such a sorry defence if we were to 
 meet, that, in the words of his own song, ' I ran awa' 
 in the morning.' " 
 
 She shook her head in silence, and seemed far 
 from satisfied. 
 
 " Tell him, however, that I'll go and see Dolly the 
 first day I'm free, and bring him back a full account
 
 22 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 of her, how she looks, and what she says of her- 
 self." 
 
 The thought of his return flashed across the poor 
 mother's heart like sunshine over a landscape, spread- 
 ing light and gladness everywhere. ''And when 
 will that be, Tony ?" cried she, looking up into his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Let me see. To-morrow will be Wednesday." 
 
 " No, Tony— Thursday." 
 
 "To be sure, Thursday — Thursday the ninth — 
 Friday, Liverpool ; Saturday, London ; Sunday will 
 do for a visit to Dolly — I suppose there will be no 
 impropriety in calling on her of a Sunday? " 
 
 "The M'Gruders are a Scotch family — I don't 
 know if they'd like it." 
 
 " That shall be thought of Let me see : Monday 
 for the great man, Tuesday and Wednesday to see a 
 little bit of London, and back here by the end of 
 the week." 
 
 " Oh ! if I thought that, Tony " 
 
 " Well, do think it — believe it, rely upon it. If 
 you like, I'll give up the Tuesday and Wednesday, 
 though I have some very gorgeous speculations 
 about Westminster Abbey, and the Tower, and the 
 monkeys in the Zoological Gardens, with the panto- 
 mime for a finish in the evening. But you've only
 
 TONY BUTLER. 23 
 
 to say the word, and I'll start half an hour after I 
 see the Don in Downing Street." 
 
 '' No, of course not, darling. I'm not so selfish 
 as that : and if you find that London amuses you, 
 and is not too expensive — for you know, Tony, 
 what a slender purse we have — stay a week — two 
 weeks, Tony, if you like it." 
 
 " What a good little woman it is," said he, press- 
 ing her towards him, and the big tears trembled in 
 his eyes and rolled heavily along his cheeks. " Now 
 for the ugly part — the money, I mean."' 
 
 "I have eleven pounds in the house, Tony, if 
 that will do to take with you." 
 
 " Do, mother ! Of course it will. I don't mean 
 to spend near so much ; but how can you spare 
 such a sum ? that's the question." 
 
 " I just had it by, Tony, for a rainy day, as the}^ 
 call it, or I meant to have made you a smart pre- 
 sent on the fourth of next month for your birthday 
 — I forget, indeed, what I intended it for," said she, 
 wiping her eyes, " for this sudden notion of yours 
 has driven everything clean out of my head, and all 
 I can think of is if there be buttons on your shirts, 
 and how many pairs of socks you have." 
 
 " I'm sure everything is right ; it always is. And 
 now go to bed like a dear little woman, and I'll
 
 24 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 come in and say good-bye before I start in the 
 morning." 
 
 " No, no, Tony ; I'll be up and make you a cup 
 of tea." 
 
 " That you shall not. Wliat a fuss to make of a 
 trip to London, as if I was going to Auckland or 
 the Fijee Islands ! By the way, mother, wouldn't 
 you come out to me if the great man gave me some- 
 thing very fine and lucrative ? — for I can't persuade 
 myself that he won't make me a governor some- 
 where." 
 
 She could not trust herself to speak, and merely 
 clutched his hand in both her own, and held it fast. 
 
 " There's another thing," said he, after a short 
 struggle with himself ; " there may ]3ossibly be notes 
 or messages of one sort or another from Lyle Abbey, 
 and just hint that I've been obliged to leave home 
 for a day or two. You needn't say for where, nor 
 how long; but that I was called away suddenly — 
 too hurriedly to go up and pay my respects, and the 
 rest of it. I'm not quite sure you'll be troubled in 
 this way ; but if you should, say what I have told 
 you." 
 
 " The Doctor will be sorry not to have said good- 
 bye, Tony." 
 
 " I may be back again before he need hear of my
 
 TONY BUTLER. 25 
 
 having gone. And now, good-night, dear mother; 
 I'll come and see you before I start." 
 
 "When Tony Butler found himself alone in his 
 room, he opened his writing-desk and prepared to 
 write — a task, for him, of no common magnitude 
 and of the very rarest occurrence. What it exacted 
 in the way of strain and effort may be imagined 
 from the swelling of the veins in his forehead, and 
 the crimson patches that formed on his cheeks. 
 " What would I give now," muttered he, " for just 
 ten minutes of ready tact, to express myself suit- 
 ably — to keep down my own temper, and at the 
 same time make Ms boil over ! If I have ten years 
 of life before me, I'd give five of them to be able to 
 do this ; but I cannot — I cannot ! To say all that 
 I want, and not be a braggart or something worse, 
 requires mind, and judgment, and tact, and twenty 
 other gifts that I have not got ; and I have only to 
 picture him going about with my letter in his hand, 
 showing it to every one, with a sneer at my mode of 
 expression — possibly of my spelling ! Here goes ; 
 my very ^vriting shames me." 
 
 " Sir, — The manner I left your father's house last 
 night would require an apology [I wonder if there 
 are two p's in apology] from me, if I had not a
 
 26 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 graver one to ask from you. [He read this over 
 fully a dozen times, varying the emphasis, and try- 
 ing if the meaning it bore, or that he meant it to 
 bear, could be Changed by the reading. ' All right,* 
 said he, ' no mistake there.'] There is, however, so 
 much of excuse for your conduct, that you did not 
 know how I was treated by your family — regarded 
 as a friend, and not the Cad you wanted to make 
 me ! [Cad reads wrong — vulgar ; I suppose it is 
 vulgar, but it means what I intend, and so let it go.] 
 I cannot make a quarrel with your father's son. 
 [I'll dash make, to show that I could accept one of 
 another's making] But to avoid the risk, I must 
 avoid the society where I shall meet you. [No ; 
 that's not right. Father's son ought to have him 
 after it.] Avoid the society where I shall meet 
 him. From this day, therefore, I will not return to 
 the Abbey without I receive that reparation from 
 you which is the right of your faithful servant, T. 
 Butler." [I could not write myself, Anthony, if I 
 got five pounds for it.] 
 
 Ten miles across a stiff country, straight as the 
 crow flies, would not have " taken as much out " of 
 poor Tony as the composition of this elegant epistle ; 
 and though he felt a sincere satisfaction at its com- 
 pletion, he was not by any means satisfied that lie
 
 TONY BUTLER. 27 
 
 had achieved a success. " No," muttered he, as 
 he sealed it, " my pen will not be my livelihood, 
 that's certain. If it wasn't for the dear mother's 
 sake, I would see what a musket could do ; I'd enlist, 
 to a certainty. It is the best thing for fellows like 
 me." Thus musing and " mooning," he lay down, 
 dressed as he was, and fell asleep. And as he lay, 
 there came a noiseless step to his door, and the 
 handle turned, and his mother drew nigh his bed, 
 and bent over him. '' Poor Tony ! " muttered she, 
 as her tears gushed out. Poor Tony ! what a story 
 in two words was there I — what tender love ! — what 
 compassionate sorrow ! It was the outburst of a 
 mother's grief for one who was sure to get the worst 
 at the hands of the world ! — a cry of anguish for all 
 the sorrows his own warm heart and guileless nature 
 would expose him to — the deceptions, the wrongs, 
 the treacheries that were before him : and yet, in 
 aU the selfishness of her love, she would not have 
 had him other than he was ! She never wished him 
 to be crafty or worldly-wise. Ten thousand times 
 was he dearer, in all his weakness, than if he had 
 the cunning of the craftiest that ever outschemed 
 their neighbours. " My poor boy," said she, " what 
 hard lessons there are before you ! It is well that 
 you have a brave, big heart, as well as a tender one."
 
 28 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 He was so like his father, too, as he lay there — no 
 great guarantee for success in life was tliat ! and her 
 tears fell faster as she looked at him ; and fearing 
 that her sobs might awake him, she stole silently 
 away, and left the room. 
 
 " There's the steam- whistle, mother ; I can just 
 see the smoke over the cliff. I'm off," said he, as 
 she had dropped off asleep. 
 
 " But your breakfast, Tony ; I'U make you a cup 
 of tea." 
 
 "Not for the world; I'm late enough as it is. 
 God bless you, little woman. I'll be back before 
 you know that I'm gone. Good-bye." 
 
 She could hardly trace the black speck as the 
 boat shot out in the deep gloom of daybreak, and 
 watched it till it rounded the little promontory, 
 when she lost it ; and then her sorrow — sorrow that 
 recalled her great desolation — burst forth, and she 
 cried as they only cry who are forsaken. But this 
 was not for long. It was the passion of grief, and 
 her reason soon vanquished it ; and as she dried her 
 tears, she said, ''Have I not much to be grateful 
 for ? Wliat a noble boy he is, and what a brave, 
 good man he may be ! "
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 A COUNTRY-HOUSE IN IRELAND. 
 
 The country-house life of Ireland had — and I would 
 say has, if I were ' not unhappily drawing on my 
 memory — this advantage over that of England, that 
 it was passed in that season when the country offered 
 all that it had of beauty and attraction — when the 
 grove was leafy, and the blossomy fruit-trees vied 
 in gorgeous colour with the flowery beds beneath 
 them — when the blackbird's mellow song rang 
 through the thicket, and the heavy plash of the 
 trout rose above the ripple of the river — when the 
 deep grass waved like a sea under a summer wind, 
 and the cattle, grouped picturesquely, tempered the 
 noonday heat beneath the spreading elms, or stood 
 contemplatively in the stream, happy in their luxu- 
 rious indolence. 
 
 What a wealth of enjoyment does such a season 
 offer ! How imperceptibly does the lovely aspect of
 
 30 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 nature blend itself day by day with every incident 
 of our lives, stealing its peaceful influence over our 
 troubled hearts, blunting the pangs of our disap- 
 pointments, calming down the anxieties of our am- 
 bitions ! How pleasant is the companionship of our 
 book, and doubly, trebly delightful the converse of 
 our friend ! How gratefully, too, do we imbibe the 
 health that comes with every charm of colour and 
 sound and form and odour, repeating at every step, 
 " How beautiful the world is, and how enjoyable \" 
 
 I am not going to disparage — far be it from me — 
 the fox-cover or the grouse-mountain ; but, after all, 
 these are the accidents, not the elements, of country 
 life, which certainly ought to be passed when the 
 woods are choral with the thrush, and the air scent- 
 ed with the apple-blossom — when it is sweet to lie 
 under the weeping -willow beside the stream, or 
 stroll at sunset through the grove, to gain that 
 crested ridge where the red horizon can be seen, and 
 watch the great sun as it sinks in splendour. 
 
 Lyle Abbey had not many pretensions to beauty 
 of architecture in itself, or to scenery in its neigh- 
 bourhood. Nor was it easy to say why a great, 
 bulky, incongruous building, disfigured by painted 
 windows to make it Gothic, should have ever been 
 called an Abbey. It was, however, both roomy
 
 TONY BUTLER. 31 
 
 and convenient within. There were fine, lofty, 
 spacious reception-rooms, well lighted and venti- 
 lated. Wide corridors led to rows of comfortable 
 chambers, where numbers of guests could be ac- 
 commodated, and in every detail of fitting and fur- 
 niture, ease and comfort had been studied with a 
 success that attained perfection. 
 
 The grounds — a space of several hundred acres — 
 enclosed within a massive wall, had not more pre- 
 tensions to beauty than the mansion. There were, 
 it is true, grand points of view — noble stretches of 
 shore and sea-coast to be had from certain emi- 
 nences, and abundant undulations — some of these 
 wild and picturesque enough ; but the great ele- 
 ment of all was wanting — there was no foliage, or 
 next to none. 
 
 Trees will not grow in this inhospitable climate, 
 or only grow in the clefts and valleys ; and even 
 there their stunted growth and scathed branches 
 show that the north-west wind has found them out, 
 twisting their boughs uncouthly towards the east- 
 ward, and giving them a semblance to some scared 
 and hooded traveller scudding away before a storm. 
 
 Vegetation thrives no better. The grass, of 
 sickly yellow, is only fit for sheep, and there are no 
 traces of those vast tracts of verdure which repre-
 
 32 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 sent culture in the south of Ireland. Wealth had 
 fought out the battle bravely, however, and arti- 
 ficial soils and trees and ornamental shrubs, re- 
 placed and replaced by others as they died off, 
 combated the ungrateful influences, and won at 
 last a sort of victory. That is to say, the stranger 
 felt, as he passed the gate, that he was entering 
 what seemed an oasis, so wild and dreary and deso- 
 late was the region which stretched away for miles 
 on every side. 
 
 Some drives and walks had been designed — 
 what will not landscape-gardening do ? — with occa- 
 sional shelter and cover. The majority, however, 
 led over wild, bleak crests — breezy and bracing on 
 fine days, but storm-lashed whenever the wind 
 came, as it will for ten months out of twelve, over 
 the great rolling waters of the Atlantic. 
 
 The most striking and picturesque of these walks 
 led along the cliffs over the sea, and indeed so close 
 as to be fenced off by a parapet from the edge of 
 the precipice. It was a costly labour, and never 
 fully carried out — the two miles which had been 
 accomplished figuring for a sum that Sir Arthur 
 declared would have bought the fee-simple of a 
 small estate. It was along this pathway that Cap- 
 tain Lyle sauntered with his two sisters on the
 
 TONY BUTLER. 33 
 
 morning after his arrival It was the show spot 
 of the whole demesne ; and certainly, as regards 
 grand effects of sea view and coast-line, not to be 
 surpassed in the kingdom. They had plotted to- 
 gether in the morning how they would lead Mark 
 in this direction, and, suddenly placing him in one 
 of the most striking spots, enjoy all his wonderment 
 and admiration ; for Mark Lyle had seldom been at 
 home since his " Harrow " days, and the Abbey and 
 its grounds were almost strange to him. 
 
 "What are the rocks yonder, Bella?" said he, 
 listlessly, as he puffed his cigar and pointed sea- 
 ward. 
 
 "The Skerries. Mark, see how the waves beat 
 over that crag. They tried to build a lighthouse 
 here, but the foundations were soon swept away." 
 
 " And what is that ? It looks like a dismantled 
 house." 
 
 "That is the ruined castle of Dunluce. It be- 
 longed to the Antrim family." 
 
 " Good heavens ! what a dreary region it all is ! " 
 cried he, interrupting. "I declare to you. South 
 Africa is a garden compared to this." 
 
 " Oh, Mark, for shame ! " said his elder sister. 
 " The kingdom has nothing grander than this coast- 
 line from Portrush to Fairhead." 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 34 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " I'm no judge of its grandeur, but I tell you 
 one thing, — I'd not live here — no, nor would I con- 
 tract to live six months in a year here — to have the 
 whole estate. This is a fine day, I take it." 
 
 " It is a glorious day," said Bella. 
 
 "WeU, it's just as much as we can do to keep 
 our legs here ; and certainly your flattened bonnets 
 and dishevelled hair are no allies to your good 
 looks." 
 
 " Our looks are not in question," said the elder, 
 tartly. " We were talking of the scenery ; and I 
 defy you to teU me where, in all your travels, you 
 have seen its equal." 
 
 " I'll tell you one thing, Alice, it's deuced dear at 
 the price we are looking at it ; I mean, at the cost 
 of this precious bit of road we stand on. Where 
 did the governor get his engineer ? " 
 
 " It was Tony planned this — every yard of it," 
 said BeUa, proudly. 
 
 "And who is Tony, pray?" said he, supercili- 
 ously. 
 
 "You met him last night — young Butler. He 
 dined here, and sat next Alice." 
 
 "You mean that great hulking fellow, with the 
 attempt at a straw-coloured mustache, who directed 
 the fireworks."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 35 
 
 " I mean that very good-looking young man who 
 coolly removed the powder-flask that you had in- 
 cautiously forgotten next the rocket-train," said 
 Mrs Trafford. 
 
 "And that was Tony!" said he, with a faint 
 sneer. 
 
 " Yes, Mark, that was Tony ; and if you want to 
 disparage him, let it be to some other than Bella 
 and myself ; for he is an old playmate that we both 
 esteem highly, and wish well to." 
 
 " I am not surprised at it," said he, languidly, 
 " I never saw a snob yet that couldn't find a 
 woman to defend him ; and this fellow, it would 
 seem, has got two." 
 
 "Tony a snob!" 
 
 " Tony Butler a snob ! Just the very thing he is 
 not. Poor boy, there never was one to whom the 
 charge was less applicable." 
 
 " Don't be angry, Alice, because I don't admire 
 your rustic friend. In my ignorance I fancied he 
 was a pretentious sort of bumpkin, who talked of 
 things a little out of his reach — such as yachting, 
 steeple-chasing, and the like. Isn't he the son of 
 some poor dependent of the governor's ? " 
 
 " Nothing of the kind ; his mother is a widow, 
 with very narrow means, I believe ; but his father
 
 36 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 was a colonel, and a distinguished one. As to 
 dependence, there is no such relation between us." 
 
 "I am glad of that, for I rather set him down 
 last night." 
 ' " Set him down ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 " He was talking somewhat big of 'cross-country 
 riding, and I asked him about his stable, and if his 
 cattle ran more on bone than blood." 
 
 "Oh, Mark, you did not do that?'' cried Bella, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Yes; and when I saw his confusion, I said. 
 You must let me walk over some morning, and 
 have a look at your nags ; for I know from the 
 way you speak of horseflesh I shall see something 
 spicy." 
 
 ''And what answer did he make?" asked Bella, 
 with an eager look. 
 
 "He got very red, crimson indeed, and stam- 
 mered out, ' You may spare yourself the walk, sir ; 
 for the only quadruped I have is a spaniel, and she 
 is blind from age, and stupid.' " 
 
 "Who was the snob there, Mark?" said Mrs 
 Trafford, angrily. 
 
 "Alice!" said he, raising his eyebrows, and look- 
 ing at her with a cold astonishment. 
 
 " I beg pardon in all humility, Mark," said she.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 37 
 
 hastily. " I am very sorry to have offended you ; 
 but I forgot myself I fancied you had been unjust 
 to one we all value very highly, and my tongue 
 outran me." 
 
 " These sort of fellows/' continued he, as if un- 
 heeding her excuses, " only get a footing in houses 
 where there are no men, or at least none of their 
 own age ; and thus they are deemed Admirable 
 Crichtons because they can row, or swim, or kill 
 a salmon. Now, when a gentleman does these 
 things, and fifty more of the same sort, nobody 
 knows it. You'll see in a day or two here a friend 
 of mine, a certain Norman Maitland, that will 
 beat your young savage at everything — ride, row, 
 walk, shoot, or single- stick him for whatever he 
 pleases ; and yet I'll wager you'll never know from 
 Maitland's manner or conversation that he ever 
 took the lock of a canal in a leap, or shot a jaguar 
 single-handed." 
 
 " Is your phoenix really coming here ? " asked 
 Mrs Trafford, only too glad to get another channel 
 for the conversation. 
 
 " Yes ; here is what he writes," and he took a 
 note from his pocket. " ' I forget, my dear Lyle, 
 whether your chateau be beside the lakes of Kil- 
 larney, the groves of Blarney, or what other pic-
 
 38 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 turesque celebrity your island claims ; but I have 
 vowed you a visit of two days — three, if you 
 insist — but not another if you die for it.' Isn't 
 hedroU?" 
 
 " He is insufferably impudent. There is ' a 
 snob' if there ever was one," cried Alice, exult- 
 ingly. 
 
 " ^N'orman Maitland, Norman Maitland a snob ! 
 Why, my dear sister, what will you say next ? 
 Ask the world its opinion of Norman Maitland, 
 for he is just as well known in St Petersburg as 
 Piccadilly, and the ring of his rifle is as familiar 
 on the Himalayas as on a Scotch mountain. 
 There is not a gathering for pleasure, nor a coun- 
 try-house party in the kingdom, would not deem 
 themselves thrice fortunate to secure a passing 
 visit from him, and he is going to give us three 
 days." 
 
 " Has he been long in your regiment, Mark ? " 
 asked Mrs Trafford. 
 
 " Maitland has never served with us ; he joined 
 us in Simla as a member of our mess, and we 
 call him ' of ours ' because he never would dine 
 with the 9th or the 50th. IMaitland wouldn't 
 take the command of a division to have the bore 
 and worry of soldiering — and why should he ? "
 
 TONY BUTLER. 39 
 
 It was not without astonishment Mark's sisters 
 saw their brother, -usually cold and apathetic in 
 his tone, so warmly enthusiastic about his friend 
 Maitland, of whom he continued to talk with 
 rapture, recalling innumerable traits of character 
 and temper, but which unhappily only testified 
 to the success with which he had practised 
 towards the world an amount of impertinence and 
 presumption that seemed scarcely credible. 
 
 " If he only be like your portrait, I call him 
 downright detestable," said Mrs Trafford. 
 
 "Yes, but you are dying to see him all the 
 same, and so is Bella." 
 
 " Let me answer for myself, Mark," said Isabella, 
 " and assure you that, so far from curiosity, I feel 
 an actual repugnance to the thought of meeting 
 him. I don't really know whether the conde- 
 scending politeness of such a man, or his cool 
 impertinence, is the greater insult." 
 
 " Poor Maitland, how will you encounter what 
 is prepared for you!" said he, mockingly; "but 
 courage, girls, I think he'll survive it — only I beg 
 no unnecessary cruelty — no harshness beyond what 
 his own transgressions may call down upon him; 
 and don't condemn him merely, and for no other 
 reason, than because he is the friend of your
 
 40 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 brother." And with this speech he turned short 
 round and ascended a steep path at his side, and 
 was lost to their view in a minute. 
 
 "Isn't he changed, Alice? Did you ever see 
 any one so altered ? " 
 
 *' Not a bit changed, Bella ; he is exactly what 
 he was at the grammar-school, at Harrow, and at 
 Sandhurst — very intolerant to the whole world, 
 as a compensation for the tyranny some one, boy 
 or man as it may be, exercises over him. All 
 his good qualities lie under this veil, and so it 
 was ever with him." 
 
 " I wish his friend was not coming." 
 
 " And I wish that he had not sent away ours, 
 for Pm sure Tony would have been up here before 
 this if something unusual had not occurred." 
 
 " Here's a strange piece of news for you, girls," 
 said Sir Arthur, coming towards them. " Tony 
 Butler left for Liverpool in the packet this morn- 
 ing. Barnes, who was seeing his brother off, saw 
 him mount the side of the steamer with his port- 
 manteau in his hand. Is it not singular he should 
 have said nothing about this last night?" 
 
 The sisters looked with a certain secret intelli- 
 gence at each other, but did not speak. " Except, 
 perhaps, he may have told you girls," added he
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 41 
 
 quickly, and catching the glance that passed be- 
 tween them. 
 
 " No, papa," said Alice, " he said nothing of 
 his intention to us ; indeed he was to have ridden 
 over with me this morning to Mount-Leslie, and 
 ask about those private theatricals that have been 
 concerted there for the last two years, but of 
 which all the performers either marry or die off 
 during "the rehearsals." 
 
 " Perhaps this all-accomplished friend of Mark's, 
 who comes here by the end of the week, will give 
 the project his assistance. If the half of what 
 Mark says of him be true, we shall have for our 
 guest one of the wonders of Europe." 
 
 " I wish the Leslies would take me on a visit 
 till he goes," said Alice. 
 
 " And I," said Bella, " have serious thoughts 
 of a sore throat that will confine me to my room. 
 Brummelism — and I hate it — it is just Brummel- 
 ism — is somewhat out of vogue at this time of 
 day. It wants the prestige of originality, and it 
 wants the high patronage that once covered it ; 
 but there is no sacrifice of self-respect in being 
 amused by it, so let us at least enjoy a hearty 
 laugh, which is more than the adorers of the great 
 Beau himself ever acquired at his expense."
 
 42 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 "At all events, girls, don't desert the field and 
 leave me alone with the enemy ; for this man is 
 just coming when we shall have no one here, as 
 ill luck would have it." 
 
 "Don't say ill luck, papa," interposed Bella; 
 "for if he be like what we suspect, he would 
 outrage and affront every one of our acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 "Three days are not an eternity," said he, half 
 gaily, " and we must make the best of it."
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 A VERY ''FINE GENTLEMAN." 
 
 One word about Mr Norman Maitland, of whom 
 this history will have something more to say here- 
 after. He was one of those men, too few in num- 
 ber to form a class, but of which nearly every nation 
 in the Continent has some examples — men with 
 good manners and good means, met with always 
 in the great world — at home in the most exclusive 
 circles, much thought of, much caressed ; but of 
 whom, as to family, friends, or belongings, no one 
 can tell anything. They who can recall the society 
 of Paris some forty years back, will remember 
 such a man in Montrond. Eich, accomplished, 
 handsome, and with the most fascinating address, 
 Montrond won his way into circles tlie barriers 
 to which extended even to royalty; and yet all 
 the world were asking. Who is he? — who knows 
 him? Maitland was another of these. Men con-
 
 44 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 stantly canvassed him, agreed that he was not of 
 these "Maitlands" or of those — that nobody was 
 at school with him — none remembered him at 
 Eton or at Eugby. He first burst upon life at 
 Cambridge, where he rode boldly, was a first-rate 
 cricketer, gave splendid wine-parties, wrote a prize 
 poem, and disappeared none ever knew whence 
 or wherefore. He was elected for a borough, but 
 only was seen twice or thrice in the House. He 
 entered the army, but left without joining his 
 regiment. He was to be heard of in every city 
 of Europe, living sumptuously, playing high — 
 more often a loser than a winner. His horses, 
 his carriages, his liveries, were models ; and wher- 
 ever he went his track could be marked in the 
 host of imitators he left behind him. For some 
 four or five years back all that was known of 
 him was in some vague paragraph appearing from 
 time to time that some tourist had met him in the 
 Kocky Mountains, or that he had been seen in 
 Circassia! An archduke on his travels had par- 
 taken of his hospitality in the extreme north of 
 India ; and one of our naval commanders spoke 
 of dining on board his yacht in the Southern 
 Pacific. Those who were curious about him learned 
 that he was beginning to show some slight touches
 
 TONY BUTLER. 45 
 
 of years — how he had grown fatter, some said 
 more serious and grave — and a few censoriously 
 hinted that his beard and mustaches were a shade 
 darker than they used to be. Maitland, in short, 
 was just beginning to drop out of people's minds, 
 when he reappeared once more in England, looking 
 in reality very little altered, save that his dark 
 complexion seemed a little darker from travel, 
 and he was slightly, very slightly, bald on the 
 top of the head. 
 
 It was remarked, however, that his old pursuits, 
 which were purely those of pleasure or dissipation, 
 had not, to all appearance, the same hold on him as 
 before. " He never goes down to Tattersall's," " I 
 don't think I have seen him once at the opera," 
 " He has given up play altogether," were the rumours 
 one heard on all sides ; and so it was that the young 
 generation, who had only heard of but never seen 
 him, were sorely disappointed in meeting the some- 
 what quiet, reserved-looking, haughty man, whose 
 wild feats and eccentricities had so often amused 
 them, but who now gave no evidence of being other 
 than a cold, well-bred gentleman. 
 
 It was when hastily passing through London, on 
 his return from India, that Mark Lyle had met him, 
 and Maitland had given him a half-careless promise
 
 46 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 to come and see him. " I want to go across to Ire- 
 land/' said he, " and whenever town gets hot, I'll 
 run over." Mark would have heard the same words 
 from a royal duke with less pride, for he had been 
 brought up in his Sandhurst days with great tradi- 
 tions of Maitland; and the favour the great man 
 had extended to him in India, riding his horses, and 
 once sharing his bungalow, had so redounded to his 
 credit in the regiment, that even a tyrannical major 
 had grown bland and gentle to him. 
 
 Mark was, however, far from confident that he 
 could rely on his promise. It seemed too bright a 
 prospect to be possible. Maitland, who had never 
 been in Ireland — whom one could, as Mark thought, 
 no more fancy in Ireland than he could imagine a 
 London fine lady passing her mornings in a poor- 
 house, or inspecting the coarse labours of a sewing- 
 school, — he coming over to see him ! What a 
 triumph, were it only to be true ! and now the post 
 told him it was true, and that Maitland would 
 arrive at the Abbey on Saturday. Now, w^hen Mark 
 had turned away so hastily and left his sisters, he 
 began to regret that he had announced the approach- 
 ing arrival of his friend with such a flourish of 
 trumpets. " I ought to have said nothing whatever 
 about him. I ought simply to have announced him
 
 TONY BUTLER. 47 
 
 as a man very well off, and much asked out, and 
 have left the rest to fortune. All I have done by 
 my ill-judged praise has been to awaken prejudice 
 against him, and make them eager to detect flaws, 
 if they can, in his manner — at all events in his 
 temper." The longer he thought over these things 
 the more they distressed him ; and at last, so far 
 from being overjoyed, as he expected, at the visit 
 of his distinguished friend, he saw the day of his 
 coming dawn with dismay and misgiving. Indeed, 
 had such a thing as putting him off been possible, 
 it is likely he would have done it. 
 
 The long-looked-for and somewhat feared Satur- 
 day came at last, and with it came a note of a few 
 lines from Maitland. They were dated from a little 
 village in Wicklow, and ran thus : — 
 
 " Dear L., — I have come down here with a Yan- 
 kee, whom I chanced upon as a travelling com- 
 panion, to look at the mines — gold, they call them ; 
 and if I am not seduced into a search after nuggets, 
 I shall be with you some time — I cannot define the 
 day — next week. The country is prettier and the 
 people less barbarous than I expected ; but I hear 
 your neighbourhood will compensate me for both 
 disappointments. — Yours, K M."
 
 48 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " Well ! are we to send the carriage in to Coleraine 
 for him, Mark ? " asked Sir Arthur, as his son con- 
 tinned to read the letter, without lifting his eyes. 
 
 " No," said Mark, in some confusion. " This is a 
 sort of put-off. He cannot be here for several days. 
 Some friend or acquaintance has dragged him off in 
 another direction ; " and he crushed the note in his 
 hand, afraid of being asked to read or to show it. 
 
 " The house will be full after Tuesday, Mark," 
 said Lady Lyle. "The Gores, and the Masseys, 
 and the M'Clintocks w^ill all be here, and Gambler 
 Graham threatens us with himself and his two 
 daughters." 
 
 '' If they come," broke in Mark, " you'U have my 
 rooms at your disposal." 
 
 " I delight in them," said Mrs Trafford ; " and if 
 your elegantly fastidious friend should really come, 
 I count upon them to be perfect antidotes to all his 
 impertinence. Sally Graham, and the younger one, 
 whom her father calls ' Dick,' are downright trea- 
 sures when one is in want of a forlorn hope to storm 
 town-bred pretension." 
 
 " If Maitland is to be baited, Alice, I'd rather the 
 bull-ring was somewhere else," said her brother, 
 angrily. 
 
 " The real question is, shall we have room for
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 49 
 
 all these people and their followers?" said Lady 
 Lyle. 
 
 " I repeat," said Mark, " that if the Graham girls 
 are to be here, I'm off. They are the most insuffer- 
 ably obtrusive and aggressive women I ever met ; 
 and I'd rather take boat and pass a month at the 
 Hebrides than stop a week in the house with them." 
 
 " I think Sally thrashed you when you came 
 home once for the holidays," said Mrs Trafford, 
 laughing. 
 
 "No, Alice, it was Beck," broke in her sister. 
 " She has a wonderful story of what she calls a left- 
 hander, that she planted under his eye. She tells it 
 still with great gusto, but owns that Mark fought on 
 very bravely for two rounds after." 
 
 " And are these the people you expect me to show 
 Maitland ? " said Mark, rising from the table ; " I'd 
 rather, fifty times rather, write and say, We cannot 
 receive you; our house is full, and will be for a 
 month to come." 
 
 " Yes, dear Mark, that is the really sensible way 
 to look at it. Nobody nowadays has any scruple 
 in such matters. One is invited from Monday to 
 Thursday, but on no possible pretext can he stay to 
 Friday." And so Mrs Trafford ran away, heaping, by 
 apparent consolations, coals of fire on his angry head. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 " I think you had better get Alice to write the 
 letter herself," said Bella ; " I'm sure she wiU do it 
 with great tact and discretion." 
 
 " Pray do/' added she. " Intrust me with the 
 despatch, and I promise you the negotiation will be 
 completed then and there." 
 
 " It is quite bad enough to shut the door in a 
 man's face, without jeering at him out of the win- 
 dow," said Mark, and he dashed out of the room in 
 a rage. 
 
 " I wish he had shown us his friend's note," said 
 Alice. " I'm quite certain that his anger has far 
 more to do with that epistle than with any of our 
 comments upon it." 
 
 " I'm very sorry Mark should be annoyed," said 
 Bella ; " but I'm selfish enough to own that, if we 
 escape Mr Maitland's visit, I shall deem the bargain 
 a good one." 
 
 " I suspect Mr Maitland does not intend to honour 
 us by his company, and that we may spare ourselves 
 all the embarrassment of preparing for it," said Lady 
 Lyle. And now the three ladies set themselves to 
 consider in committee that oft-vexed problem of 
 how to make a country-house hold more people 
 than it had room for, and how to persuade the less 
 distinguished of the guests that tliey are " taking
 
 TONY BUTLER. 51 
 
 out" in cordiality all that their reception wants in 
 convenience. One difficulty presented itself at 
 every step, and in a variety of shapes. N'ever 
 before had the Abbey been full of visitors without 
 Tony Butler being there to assist in their amuse- 
 ment — Tony equally at home on land and on sea — 
 the cavalier of young ladies — the safe coachman of 
 mammas — the guide to all that was noteworthy — 
 the fisherman — the yachtsman whom no weather 
 disconcerted, no misadventure could provoke — so 
 good-tempered and so safe ; ay, so safe ! for Tony 
 never wanted to flirt with the young heiress, nor 
 teach her schoolboy brother to smoke a short pipe. 
 He had neither the ambition to push his fortune 
 unfairly, nor to attach his junior to him by un- 
 worthy means. And the sisters ran over his merits, 
 and grew very enthusiastic about traits in him, 
 which, by inference, they implied were not the gifts 
 of others nearer home. 
 
 " I wish, papa, you would ride over and see Mrs 
 Butler, and ask when Tony is expected back again." 
 
 " Or if," added Mrs Trafford — " or if we could 
 get him back by writing, and saying how much we 
 want him." 
 
 " I know I'll never venture on tollman till Tony 
 has had a hand on him." 
 
 SSn^'^
 
 62 'I'()NY niJTLKK. 
 
 "And ili()M(; clKistnuts inainTna wants for tlie 
 low pliaotou — who is to bnsak tlusni now ?" cried 
 Bella. 
 
 "I only licaid yesterday," said Sir Aiilnir, " tliat 
 the Mermaid's sails were aJI eiii up. Tony was 
 goin^ to make a sclKtoncror her, it seems; and there 
 she is now, disnianLUul, and not one of us able to 
 put lier in eonnnission a,«;ain." 
 
 " I declare! it sounds absurd," broke in Lady Lyle, 
 "but I fancy Uie^anh Ml is b(!ginning to look neglected 
 already. (v(ut;iinly I never saw M r Graft there the 
 whole morning; and hv, woidd not have danid to 
 absent himself if Tony were lien;." 
 
 " I'd go over wilHngly and S(M! liis mother," said 
 Sii- Artliui"; " but as 'I'ony did not confide to us his 
 intended journey, but set oil' witliout a word, it 
 would have tluj ap))earanc(! of a certain ])rying 
 curiosity on my part were 1 to ask after him, and 
 when he is expected home again." 
 
 "Not if you were to say frankly that we wanted 
 him, and couldn't gc^t on without him, ])a])a," said 
 Alice. "I'd have no shame; in saying that we are 
 perfectly lielpless without his skill, his courage;, his 
 ri;ady wit, and his good nature." 
 
 " Why not secure all thosi; perlections beyond 
 risk, Alice ?" said Sir Arthur, laughing.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 53 
 
 " How SO ? — only tell me." 
 
 " Marry him." 
 
 " First of all, papa, he might not marry me ; and, 
 secondly, if he should, it might not be the way to 
 insure the perpetuity T covet. You know what 
 Swift says of the 'promising' Princes and the 'bad' 
 Kings the world is full of ? " 
 
 " I protest," said Lady Lyle, haughtily, •' I have a 
 great regard for young Butler; but it has never 
 gone the length of making me desire him for a son- 
 in-law." 
 
 " Meanwhile, papa — for we have quite time 
 enough to think over the marriage — pray, let me 
 order them to saddle Peter for you, and ride over 
 to the Burnside." 
 
 " Do so, Alice ; I'm quite ready ; but, first of all, 
 give me my instructions." 
 
 " We want Tony," broke in Bella. 
 
 " Yes ; and insist on having him. He must be 
 here by Monday night or Tuesday morning, if it 
 cost an express to go after him." 
 
 "We ought to bear in mind, girls, that Tony 
 has not left home in pursuit of pleasure. The poor 
 fellow has had some call of urgency or necessity, 
 and our selfishness must not go the length of a 
 cruelty."
 
 5.4 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " But with your nice tact, papa, you'll find out 
 all that ; you'll learn, in the course of conversation, 
 whether anything of importance has called him 
 away, or whether it be not, as I half suspect, a sort 
 of passing caprice." And she looked significantly 
 at Bella, and left her sentence unfinished. 
 
 " Do you know of anything that should induce 
 you to believe this, Alice ?" 
 
 " JSTothing more than a chance word that dropped 
 from Mark this morning. He took it into his head 
 last night that poor Tony was presumptuous, and 
 gave himself airs — Tony ! of all creatures in the 
 world ; — and so the great hussar, in the plenitude 
 of his regimental experiences, essayed what he called 
 * to put him down !' Now, the chances are that this 
 may have occasioned some unpleasantness, and it is 
 not in the least imlikely may have led to Tony's 
 departure." 
 
 "You must be right, Alice; and since we have 
 been standing here at the window, I saw Mrs But- 
 ler's herd give Mark a letter, which, after reading, 
 he crushed impatiently in his hand and thrust into 
 his pocket. This decides me at once. I will go 
 down to Mrs Butler's without delay." 
 
 " Please explain that I have not called, solely be- 
 cause the carriao^e-road is so bad. The drive down
 
 TONY BUTLER. 55 
 
 through that forest of fern and reeds is like a horrid 
 nightmare on me/' said Lady Lyle. 
 
 " Well, I think I can apologise for your absence 
 without telling her that she lives in an unapproach- 
 able wildernesss," said he, laughing ; " and as she 
 cares little for visiting or being visited, the chances 
 are my task will be an easy one." 
 
 "Would you like me to go with you, papa?" 
 asked Alice. 
 
 " Yes, by all means ; but stay," added he quickly, 
 " it might possibly be better not to come ; if any- 
 thing unpleasant should have occurred between 
 Mark and Tony, she will have less reluctance to 
 speak of it when we are alone." 
 
 They all agreed that this was well thought of, 
 and soon after saw him set out on his mission, their 
 best wishes for his success following him. 
 
 Sir Arthur pondered as he went over what he 
 should say, and how he would meet the remarks he 
 deemed it likely she would make to him. AVithout 
 being in the least what is called a person of superior 
 abilities, Mrs Butler was a somewhat hard-headed 
 woman, whose north of Ireland caution and shrewd- 
 ness stood her in stead for higher qualities ; and if 
 they would not have guided her in great difficulties, 
 she had the good fortune or the prudence to escape
 
 56 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 from such. He knew this ; and he knew besides 
 that there pertains to a position of diminished means 
 and station a peculiar species of touchy pride, always 
 suggesting to its possessor the suspicion that this or 
 that liberty would never have been taken in happier 
 days, and thus to regard the most well-meant coun- 
 sels and delicately conveyed advice as uncalled-for 
 interference, or worse. 
 
 It was after much consideration he saw himseK at 
 the little wicket of the garden, where he dismounted, 
 and, fastening his bridle to the gate, knocked at the 
 door. Though he could distinctly hear the sound of 
 voices within, and the quick movement of feet, his 
 summons was unanswered, and he was about to re- 
 peat it for the third time when the door was opened. 
 
 " Is your mistress at home, Jeanie ?" said he, re- 
 cognising with a smile the girl's curtsy to him. 
 
 " Yes, sir, she's at home," was the dry answer. 
 
 "Will you just tell her, then, that Sir Arthur 
 Lyle would take it as a great favour if she'd permit 
 him to speak to her." 
 
 The girl disappeared with the message, but did not 
 return again for several minutes ; and when she did, 
 she looked slightly agitated. " My mistress is very 
 sorry, sir, but she canna see ye the day ; it's a sort 
 of a headache she has."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 57 
 
 " Mr Anthony, is he at home ? " asked he, curious 
 to remark the effect of his question. 
 
 " He's no just at hame the noo," was the cautious 
 reply. 
 
 " He has not been up at the Abbey to-day," said 
 he, carelessly; "but, to be sure, I came through the 
 ^ brocken,' and might have missed him." 
 
 A little dry nod of the head, to acknowledge that 
 tliis or anything else was possible, was all that his 
 speech elicited. 
 
 " Say that I was very sorry, Jeanie, that Mrs But- 
 ler could not see me, and sorrier for the reason ; but 
 that I hope to-morrow or next day to be more for- 
 tunate. Not," added he, after a second thought, 
 " that what I wanted to speak of is important, ex- 
 cept to myself ; don't forget this, Jeanie." 
 
 " I winna forget," said she, and, curtsying again, 
 closed the door. Sir Arthur rode slowly back to 
 report that his embassy had failed.
 
 CHAPTEE lY 
 
 SOME NEW AERIVALS. 
 
 Day after day went over, and no tidings of Mait- 
 land. When the post came in of a morning, and 
 no letter in his hand appeared, Mark's impatience 
 was too. perceptible to make any comment for his 
 sisters either safe or prudent. Nor was it till nigh 
 a week passed over that he himself said, " I wonder 
 wdiat has become of Maitland ? I hope he's not ill." 
 None followed up the theme, and it dropped. The 
 expected guests began to drop in soon after, and, 
 except by Mark himself, Mr Norman Maitland was 
 totally forgotten. The visitors were for the most 
 part squires and their wives and families ; solid, 
 well-to-do gentlemen, whose chief objects in life 
 were green crops and the poor-law. Their talk was 
 either of mangold or guano, swedes or the union, 
 just as their sons' conversation ranged over dogs, 
 horses, meets, and covers ; and the ladies disported
 
 TONY BUTLER. 59 
 
 in toilette, and such details of the Castle draw- 
 ing-rooms as the Dublin papers afforded. There 
 were Mr and Mrs Warren, with two daughters and 
 a son ; and the Hunters, with two sons and a daugh- 
 ter. There were Colonel Hoyle and Mrs Hoyle, 
 from regimental headquarters, Belfast ; and Groves 
 Bulkney, the member for the county, who had come 
 over, in the fear of an approaching dissolution of 
 Parliament, to have a look at his constituents. He 
 was a Tory, who always voted with the Wliigs, a 
 sort of politician in great favour with the north of 
 Ireland, and usually supposed to have much influ- 
 ence with both parties. There were Masseys from 
 Tipperary, and M'Clintocks from Louth ; and, lastly, 
 herald of their aj)proach, three large coffin-shaped 
 trunks, undeniably of sea-origin, with the words 
 " Cap. Gambier Graham, E.K," marked on them, 
 which arrived by a carrier, with three gun-cases 
 and an immense array of fishing-tackle, gaffs, and 
 nets. 
 
 " So I see those odious Grahams are coming," said 
 Mark, ill-humouredly, as he met his elder sister in 
 the hall. " I declare, if it were not that Maitland 
 might chance to arrive in my absence, I'd set off 
 this very morning." 
 
 " I assure you, Mark, you are all wrong ; the
 
 60 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 girls are no favourites of mine ; "but looking to the 
 staple of our other guests, the Grahams are perfect 
 boons from heaven. The Warrens, mth their in- 
 fant schpol; and Mrs Maxwell, with her quarrel 
 with the bishop ; and the Masseys, with their pre- 
 tension about that daughter who married Lord 
 Claude Somebody, are so terribly tiresome, that I 
 long for the racket and noise of those bustling 
 young women, who will at least dispel our dulness." 
 
 " At the cost of our good breeding." 
 
 " At all events they are jolly and good-tempered 
 girls. We have known them for " 
 
 " Oh, don't say how long. The younger one is 
 two years older than myself." 
 
 " No, Mark ; Beck is exactly your own age." 
 
 "Then I'm determined to call myself five-and- 
 thirty the first opportunity I have. She shall have 
 three years tacked to her for the coming into the 
 world along with me." 
 
 " Sally is only thirty-four." 
 
 " Only ! the idea of saying only to thirty-four." 
 
 " They don't look within eight or nine years of 
 it, I declare. I suppose you will scarcely detect 
 the slightest change in them." 
 
 " So much the worse. Any change would im- 
 prove them in my eyes."
 
 TONY BUTLER. , 61 
 
 "And the Captain too. He, I believe, is now 
 Commodore." 
 
 " I perceive there is no change in the mode of 
 travel," said Mark, pointing to the trunks. "The 
 heavy luggage used always to arrive the day 
 before they drove up in their vile Irish jaunting- 
 car. Do they still come in that fashion ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and I really believe with the same horse 
 they had long, long ago." 
 
 " A flea-bitten mare, with a twisted tail ? " 
 
 "The very same,'' cried she, laughing. "I'll 
 certainly tell Beck how well you remember their 
 horse. She'll take it as a flattery." 
 
 " Tell her what you like — she'll soon find out 
 how much flattery she has to expect from me/" 
 After a short pause, in which he made two in- 
 effectual attempts to light a cigar, and slightly 
 burned his fingers, he said, " I'd not for a hundred 
 pounds that Maitland had met them here. With 
 simply stupid country gentry, he'd not care to 
 notice their ways nor pay attention to their hum- 
 drum habits ; but these Grahams, with all their 
 flagrant vulgarity, will be a temptation too irre- 
 sistible, and he wiU leave this to associate us for 
 ever in his mind with the two most ill-bred women 
 in creation."
 
 62 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 "You are quite unfair, Mark; they are greatly 
 liked — at least, people are glacl to have them ; and 
 if we only had poor Tony Butler here, who used 
 to manage them to perfection, they'd help us won- 
 derfully with all the dulness around us." 
 
 " Thank heaven we have not. I'd certainly not 
 face such a constellation as the three of them. I 
 tell you frankly, that I'd pack my portmanteau 
 and go over to Scotland if that fellow were to 
 come here again." 
 
 " You're not likely to be driven to such an ex- 
 tremity, I suspect; but here comes papa, and I 
 think he has been down at the Burnside; let us 
 hear what news he has." 
 
 " It has no interest for one'/ said he, walking 
 away, while she hastened out to meet Sir Arthur. 
 
 " No tidings, Alice — at least none that I can 
 learn. Mrs Butler's headache still prevents her 
 seeing me, though I could wager I saw her at 
 work in the garden when I turned off the high- 
 road." 
 
 " How strange ! You suspect that she avoids 
 you?" 
 
 " I am certain of it ; and I went round by the 
 minister's, thinking to have a talk with Stewart, 
 and hear something that might explain this; but
 
 TONY BUTLER. 63 
 
 he was engaged in preparing his sermon, and 
 begged me to excuse him." 
 
 " I wish we could get to the bottom of this 
 mystery. Would she receive me, do you think, 
 if I were to go over to the cottage?" 
 
 "Most likely not. I suspect whatever it be 
 that has led to this estrangement will be a passing 
 cloud ; let us wait and see. Who are those coming 
 up the bend of the road ? The horse looks fagged 
 enough, certainly." 
 
 "The Grahams, I declare! Oh, I must find 
 Mark, and let him be caught here when they 
 arrive.'' 
 
 ''Don't let the Commodore get at one before 
 dinner, that's all I ask," said Sir Arthur, as he 
 rode round to the stables. 
 
 When Alice entered the house, she found Mark 
 at the open window watching with an opera-glass 
 the progress of the jaunting-car as it slowly wound 
 along the turns of the approach, lost and seen as the 
 woods intervened or opened. 
 
 " I cannot make it out at all, Alice," said he ; 
 " there are two men and two women, as well as I 
 can see, besides the driver." 
 
 " Xo, no ; they have their maid, whom you mis- 
 take for a man."
 
 64 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 " Then the maid wears a wideawake and a 
 paletot. Look and see for yourself," and he handed 
 her the glass. 
 
 " I declare you are right — it is a man ; he is 
 beside Beck. Sally is on the side with her father." 
 
 "Are they capable of bringing some one along 
 with them?" cried he in horror. "Do you think 
 they would dare to take such a liberty as that 
 here?" 
 
 " I'm certain they would not. It must be Ken- 
 rose the apothecary, who was coming to see one of 
 
 the maids, or one of our own people, or " Her 
 
 further conjectures were cut short by the outburst 
 of so strong an expletive as cannot be repeated; 
 and Mark, pale as death, stammered out, "It's 
 Maitland ! Norman Maitland !" 
 
 ''But how, Mark, do they know him ?" 
 
 " Confound them ! who can tell how it hap- 
 pened?" said he. "I'll not meet him — I'll leave 
 the house — I'll not face such an indignity." 
 
 "But remember, Mark, none of us know your 
 friend ; we have not so much as seen him ; and as 
 he was to meet these people, it's all the better they 
 came as acquaintances." 
 
 " That's all very fine," said he, angrily ; " you can 
 be beautifully philosophical about it, aU because
 
 TONY BUTLER. 65 
 
 you haven't to go back to a mess-table and be 
 badgered by all sorts of allusions and references 
 to Maitland's capital story." 
 
 " Here they are, here they are ! " cried Alice, and 
 the next moment she was warmly embracing those 
 dear friends to whose failings she was nowise blind, 
 however ardent her late defence of them. Mark, 
 meanwhile, had advanced towards Maitland, and 
 gave him as cordial a welcome as he could com- 
 mand. "My sister Mrs Trafford— Mr Maitland," 
 said he, and Alice gave her hand with a graceful 
 cordiality to the new guest. 
 
 " I declare Mark is afraid that I'll kiss him," 
 cried Beck. " Courage, mon ami, I'll not expose 
 you in public." 
 
 "How are you? how are you?" cried the Com- 
 modore ; " brown, brown, very brown ; Indian sun. 
 Lucky if the mischief is only skin-deep." 
 
 " Shake hands, Mark," said Sally, in a deep 
 masculine voice ; " don't bear malice though I did 
 pitch you out of the boat that day." 
 
 Mark was, however, happily, too much engaged 
 with his friend to have heard the speech. He was 
 eagerly listening to Maitland's account of his first 
 meeting with the Grahams. 
 
 " My lucky star was in the ascendant, for there 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 I stood," said Maitland, "in the great square of 
 BaUy— BaUy " 
 
 " Ballymena," broke in Beck ; " and there's no 
 great square in the place ; but you stood in a 
 very dirty stable-yard, in a much greater passion 
 than such a fine gentleman should ever give way 
 to.'' 
 
 " Calling, ' A horse ! a horse ! My kingdom for a 
 horse ! ' " 
 
 " It was ' a chaise and pair ' / heard, and you 
 were well laughed at for your demand. The baker 
 oflfered you a seat, which you rejected with dismay; 
 and, to tell the truth, it was half in the hope of 
 witnessing another outburst of your indignation 
 that I went across and said, ' Would you accept a 
 place beside me, sir?'" 
 
 "And was I not overwhelmed with joy — was it 
 not in a transport of gratitude that I embraced 
 your offer?" 
 
 " I know you very nearly embraced my maid as 
 you lifted her off the car." 
 
 " And, by the way, where is Patience ? " asked 
 Mrs Trafford. 
 
 " She's coming on, some fashion, with the swell's 
 luggage," added she, dropping her voice to a whis- 
 per — "eight trunks, eleven carpet-bags, and four
 
 TONY BUTLER. 67 
 
 dressing-boxes, besides what I thought was a show- 
 box, but is only a shower-bath." 
 
 "My people will take every care of her," said 
 Maitland. 
 
 " Is Fenton still with you ?" asked Mark. 
 
 " Yes ; he had some thoughts of leaving me 
 lately ; he said he thought he'd like to retire — that 
 he'd take a consulate or a barrackmastership — but 
 I laughed him out of it." 
 
 Sir Arthur and Lady Lyle had now come down 
 to welcome the new arrivals; and greetings and 
 welcomes and felicitations resounded on all sides. 
 
 "Come along with me, Maitland," said Mark, 
 hurrying his friend away. " Let me show you your 
 quarters ; " and as he moved off he added, " What 
 a piece of ill-luck it was that you should have 
 chanced upon the greatest bores of our acquaint- 
 ance ! — people so detestable to me, that if I hadn't 
 been expecting your visit I'd have left the house 
 this morning." 
 
 " I don't know that," said Maitland, half lan- 
 guidly ; " perhaps I have grown more tolerant, or 
 more indifferent — what may be another name for 
 the same thing — but I rather liked the young 
 women. Have we any more stairs to mount?" 
 
 " No ; here you are ; " and Mark reddened a little
 
 68 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 at the impertinent question. " I have put you here, be- 
 cause this was an old ^ar^OTi apartment I had arranged 
 for myself ; and you have your bath-room yonder, 
 and your servant, on the other side of the terrace." 
 
 " It's all very nice, and seems very quiet," said 
 Maitland. 
 
 " As to that, you'll not have to complain : except 
 the plash of the sea at the foot of those cliffs, you'll 
 never hear a sound here." 
 
 "It's a bold thing of you to make me so com- 
 fortable, Lyle. When I wrote to you to say I was 
 coming, my head was full of what we call country- 
 house life, with all its bustle and racket — noisy 
 breakfasts and noisier luncheons, with dinners as 
 numerous as tahles d'hote. I never dreamed of such 
 a paradise as this. May I dine here all alone when 
 in the humour 1 " 
 
 " You are to be all your own master, and to do 
 exactly as you please. I need not say, though, 
 that I wiU scarce forgive you if you grudge us 
 your company." 
 
 " I'm not always up to society. I'm growing a 
 little footsore with the world, Lyle, and like to lie 
 down in the shade." 
 
 "Lewis told me you were writing a book — a 
 novel, I think he said," said Mark.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 69 
 
 "I write a book! I never thought of such a 
 thing. Why, my dear Lyle, the fellows who — ^like 
 myself — know the whole thing, never write ! 
 Haven't you often remarked that a man who has 
 passed years of life in a foreign city loses all power 
 of depicting its traits of peculiarity, just because, 
 from habit, they have ceased to strike him as 
 strange? So it is. Your thorough man of the 
 world knows life too well to describe it. 'No, no ; 
 it is the creature that stands furtively in the flats 
 that can depict what goes on in the comedy. Who 
 are your guests ?" 
 
 Mark ran over the names carelessly. 
 
 " All new to me, and I to them. Don't introduce 
 me, Mark ; leave me to shake down in any bivouac 
 that may offer. I'll not be a bear if people don't 
 bait me. You understand ?" 
 
 " Perhaps I do." 
 
 "There are no foreigners? that's a loss. They 
 season society though they never make it, and 
 there's an evasive softness in French that contri- 
 butes much to the courtesies of life. So it is — the 
 habits of the Continent to the wearied man of the 
 world are just like loose slippers to a gouty man. 
 People learn to be intimate there without being 
 over familiar — a great point, Mark."
 
 70 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 " By the way— talking of that same familiarity 
 — there was a young fellow who got the habit of 
 coming here, before I returned from India, on 
 such easy terms, that I found him installed like 
 one of ourselves. He had his room, his saddle- 
 horse, a servant that waited on him, and who did 
 his orders, as if he were a son of the family. I 
 cut the thing very short when I came home, by giv- 
 ing him a message to do some trifling service, just 
 as I would have told my valet. He resented, left 
 the house, and sent me this letter next morning." 
 
 "Not much given to letter- writing, I see," mut- 
 tered Maitland, as he read over Tony's epistle ; 
 " but still the thing is reasonably well put, and 
 means to say. Give me a chance, and I'm ready 
 for you. What's the name? Buller?" 
 
 " ]N"o ; Butler — Tony Butler they call him here." 
 
 " What Butlers does he belong to ? " asked 
 Maitland, with more interest in his manner. 
 
 " No Butlers at all — at least none of any 
 standing. My sisters, who swear by this fellow, 
 will teU you that his father was a colonel and 
 C.B., and I don't know what else ; and that his 
 uncle was, and I believe is, a certain Sir Omerod 
 Butler, minister or ex-minister somewhere ; but I 
 have my doubts of all the fine parentage, seeing
 
 TONY BUTLER. 71 
 
 that this youth lives with his mother in a cottage 
 here that stands in the rent-roll at £18 per annum." 
 
 " There is a Sir Omerod Butler," said Maitland, 
 with a slow, thoughtful enunciation. 
 
 " But, if he be this youth's uncle, he never 
 knows nor recognises him. My sister, Mrs Traf- 
 ford, has the whole story of these people, and will 
 be charmed to tell it to you." 
 
 " I have no curiosity in the matter," said Mait- 
 land, languidly. " The world is really so very 
 small, that by the time a man reaches my age, 
 he knows every one that is to be known in it. 
 And so," said he, as he looked again at the letter, 
 " he went off, after sending you the letter ? " 
 
 " Yes, he left this the same day." 
 
 " And where for ? " 
 
 " I never asked. The girls, I suppose, know 
 all about his movements. I overhear mutterings 
 about poor Tony at every turn. Tell me, Mait- 
 land," added he, with more earnestness, "is this 
 letter a thing I can notice? Is it not a regular 
 provocation ? " 
 
 " It is, and it is not," said Maitland, as he 
 lighted a cigar, puffing the smoke leisurely between 
 his words. " If he were a man that you would 
 chance upon at every moment, meet at your club,
 
 72 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 or sit opposite at dinner, the thing would fester 
 into a sore in its own time ; but here is a fellow, 
 it may be, that you'll never see again, or if so, 
 but on distant terms : I'd say, put the document 
 with your tailor's bills, and think no more of it." 
 
 Lyle nodded an assent and was silent. 
 
 " I say, Lyle," added Maitland, after a moment, 
 " I'd advise you never to speak of the fellow — 
 never discuss him. If your sisters bring up his 
 name, let it drop unnoticed ; it is the only way 
 to put the tombstone on such memories. What 
 is your dinner-hour here?" 
 
 " Late enough, even for you — eight." 
 
 "That is civilised. I'll come down — at least 
 to-day," said he, after a brief pause ; " and now 
 leave me." 
 
 When Lyle withdrew, Maitland leaned on the 
 window-sill, and ranged his eyes over the bold 
 coast-line beneath him. It was not, however, to 
 admire the bold promontory of Fairhead, or the 
 sweeping shore that shelved at its base; nor was 
 it to gaze on the rugged outline of those perilous 
 rocks which stretched from the Causeway far into the 
 open sea ; — his mind was far far away from the spot, 
 deep in cares and wiles and schemes, for his was an 
 intriguing head, and had its own store of knaveries.
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 IN LONDON. 
 
 Seeking one's fortune is a very gambling sort 
 of affair. It is leaving so mucli to chance — 
 trusting so implicitly to what is called "luck/' 
 that it makes all individual exertion a merely 
 secondary process — a kind of "auxiliary screw" 
 to aid the gale of Fortune. It was pretty much 
 in this spirit that Tony Butler arrived in London, 
 nor did the aspect of that mighty sea of humanity 
 serve to increase his sense of self-reliance. It was 
 not merely his loneliness that he felt in that great 
 crowd, but it was his utter inutility — his actual 
 worthlessness — to all others. If the gamester's 
 sentiment, to try his luck, was in his heart, it 
 was the spirit of a very poor gambler, wlio had 
 but one " throw " to risk on fortune ; and thus 
 thinking he set out for Downing Street. 
 
 If he was somewhat disappointed in the tumble-
 
 74 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 down ruinous old mass of building which held the 
 state secrets of the empire, he was not the less 
 awe-struck as he found himself at the threshold 
 where the great men who guide empires were 
 accustomed to pass in. "With a bold effort he 
 swung back the glass door of the inner hall, and 
 found himself in presence of a very well- whiskered, 
 imposing-looking man, who, seated indolently in 
 a deep arm-chair, was busily engaged in reading 
 the 'Times.' A glance over the top of the paper 
 was sufficient to assure this great official that it 
 was not necessary to interrupt his perusal of the 
 news on the stranger's account, and so he read 
 on undisturbed. 
 
 " I have a letter here for Sir Harry Elphinstone," 
 began Tony ; " can I deliver it to him ? " 
 
 " You can leave it in that rack yonder," said 
 the other, pointing to a glass-case attached to the 
 wall. 
 
 " But I wish to give it myself — with my own 
 hand." 
 
 " Sir Harry comes down to the office at five, 
 and, if your name is down for an audience, will 
 see you after six." 
 
 " And if it is not down ? " 
 
 " He won't see you, that's all." There was an
 
 TONY BUTLER. 75 
 
 impatience about the last words that implied he 
 had lost his place in the newspaper, and wished 
 to be rid of his interrogator. 
 
 "And if I leave my letter here, when shall I 
 call for the answer?" asked Tony, diffidently. 
 
 "Any time from this to this day six weeks," 
 said the other, with a wave of the hand to imply 
 the audience was ended. 
 
 " What if I were to try his private residence ? " 
 said Tony. 
 
 "Eighty-one Park Lane," said the other aloud, 
 while he mumbled over to himself the last line 
 he had read, to recall his thoughts to the passage. 
 
 " You advise me then to go there ? " 
 
 " Always cutting down, always slicing off some- 
 thing ! " muttered the other, with his eyes on the 
 paper. " ' For the port-collector of Hallihololulo, 
 three hundred and twenty pounds. Mr Scrudge 
 moved as amendment that the vote be reduced by 
 the sum of seventy-four pounds eighteen and seven- 
 pence, being the amount of the collector's salary 
 for the period of his absence from his post during 
 the prevalence of the yellow fever on the coast. 
 The honourable member knew a gentleman, whose 
 name he was unwilling to mention publicly, but 
 would have much pleasure in communicating con-
 
 76 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 fidentially to any honourable gentleman on either 
 side of the House, who had passed several days 
 at Haccamana, and never was attacked by any 
 form of yellow fever/ That was a home-thrust, 
 eh ? " cried the reader, addressing Tony. * " Not 
 such an easy thing to answer old Scrudge 
 there?" 
 
 " I'm a poor opinion on such matters," said Tony, 
 with humility ; " but pray tell me, if I were to call 
 at Park Lane " 
 
 The remainder of his question was interrupted by 
 the sudden start to his legs of the austere porter, as 
 an effeminate-looking young man, with his hat set 
 on one side, and a glass to his eye, swung wide the 
 door, and walked up to the letter-rack. 
 
 " Only these, Willis ? " said he, taking some half- 
 dozen letters of various sizes. 
 
 "And this, sir," said the porter, handing him 
 Tony's letter ; " but the young man thinks he'd 
 like to have it back ; " while he added, in a low but 
 very significant tone — " He's going to Park Lane 
 with it himself" 
 
 The young gentleman turned round at this, and 
 took a very leisurely survey of the man who con- 
 templated a step of such rare audacity. 
 
 " He's from Ireland, Mr Damer," whispered the
 
 TONY BUTLER. 77 
 
 porter, with a half-kindly impulse to make an 
 apology for such ignorance. 
 
 Mr Damer smiled faintly, and gave a little nod, 
 as though to say that the explanation was sufficient ; 
 and again turned towards Tony. 
 
 "I take it that you know Sir Harry Elphin- 
 stone ? " asked he. 
 
 " I never saw him ; but he knew my father very 
 well, and he'll remember my name." 
 
 " Knew your father ! And in what capacity, may 
 I ask?" 
 
 " In what capacity ! " repeated Tony, almost 
 fiercely. 
 
 '' Yes ; I mean, as what — on what relations did 
 they stand to each other ? " 
 
 " As schooKellows at Westminster, where he 
 fagged to my father ; in the Grenadier Guards after- 
 wards, where they served together ; and, last of all, 
 as correspondents, which they were for many years." 
 
 "Ah, yes," sighed the other, as though he had 
 read the whole story, and a very painful story too, 
 of change of fortune and ruined condition. "But 
 still," continued he, "I'd scarcely advise your 
 going to Park Lane. He don't like it. None of 
 them like it ! " 
 
 "Don't they?" said Tony, not even vaguely
 
 78 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 guessing at whose prejudices he was hinting, but 
 feeling bound to say something. 
 
 " 'No, they don't/' rejoined Mr Darner, in a half- 
 confidential way. "There is such a deal of it — 
 fellows who were in the same ' eleven ' at Oxford, or 
 widows of tutors, or parties who wrote books — I 
 think they are the worst, but all are bores, im- 
 mense bores ! You want to get something, don't 
 you?" 
 
 Tony smiled, as much at the oddity of the ques- 
 tion, as in acquiescence. 
 
 " I ask," said the other, " because you'll have to 
 come to me ; I'm private secretary, and I give away 
 nearly all the office patronage. Come up-stairs ;" 
 and with this he led the way up a very dirty stair- 
 case to a still dirtier corridor, off which a variety of 
 offices opened, the open doors of which displayed the 
 officials in all forms and attitudes of idleness — some 
 asleep, some reading newspapers, some at luncheon 
 — and two were sparring with boxing-gloves. 
 
 " Sir Harry writes the whole night through," said 
 Mr Damer, "that's the reason these fellows have 
 their own time of it now ; " and with this bit of 
 apology he ushered Tony into a small but comfort- 
 ably-furnished room, with a great coal-fire in the 
 grate, though the day w^as a sultry one in autumn.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 79 
 
 Mr Skeffington Darner's first care was to present 
 himseK before a looking-glass, and arrange his hair, 
 his whiskers, and his cravat ; having done which he 
 told Tony to be seated, and threw himself into a 
 most comfortably padded arm-chair, with a writing- 
 desk appended to one side of it. 
 
 " I may as well open your letter. It's not marked 
 private, eh ? " 
 
 " Not marked private," said Tony, " but its con- 
 tents are strictly confidential." 
 
 " But it will be in the waste-paper basket to-mor- 
 row morning, for all that," said Darner, with a pity- 
 ing compassion for the other's innocence. " What is 
 it you are looking for — what sort of thing ? " 
 
 " I scarcely know, because I'm fit for so little ; 
 they tell me the colonies, Australia or New Zealand, 
 are the places for fellows like me." 
 
 " Don't believe a word of it," cried Damer, ener- 
 getically. " A man with any ' go ' in him can do 
 fifty thousand times better at home. You go some 
 thousand miles away — for what? to crush quartz, 
 or hammer limestone, or pump water, or carry mud 
 in baskets, at a dollar, two dollars, five dollars, if 
 you like, a-day, in a country where Dillon, one of 
 our fellows that's under-secretary there, writes me 
 word he paid thirty shillings for a pot of Yarmouth
 
 80 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 bloaters. It's a rank humbug all that about the 
 colonies — take my word for it ! " 
 
 " But what is there to be done at home, at least 
 by one like me ? " 
 
 '' Scores of things : go on the Exchange — go in 
 for a rise, go in for a fall. Take Peruvian Twelves — 
 they're splendid — or Montezuman mining scrip. I 
 did a little in Guatemalas last week, and I expect a 
 capital return by next settling-day. If you think all 
 this too gambling, get named Director of a company. 
 There's the patent phosphorus blacking, will give 
 fifty pounds for a respectable chairman ; or write a 
 novel, that's the easiest thing in life, and pays won- 
 derfully, — Herd and Dashen give a thousand down, 
 and double the money for each edition ; and it's a 
 fellow's own fault if it ain't a success. Then there's 
 patent medicine and scene-painting — any one can 
 paint a scene, all done with a great brush — this 
 fashion ; and you get up to fifteen, ay, twenty 
 pounds a- week. By the way, are you active ? " 
 
 "Tolerably so. Why do you ask?" said Tony, 
 smiling at the impetuous incoherence of the other's 
 talk. 
 
 " Just hold up this newspaper — so — not so high — 
 there. Don t move ; a very little to the right." So 
 saying, Mr Damer took three sofa-cushions, and
 
 TONY BUTLER. 81 
 
 placed them in a line on the floor ; and then, taking 
 off his coat and waistcoat, retired to a distant corner 
 of the room. " Be steady, now ; don't move," cried 
 he ; and then, with a brisk run, he dashed forward, 
 and leaped head - foremost through the extended 
 newspaper, but with so vigorous a spring as to 
 alight on the floor a considerable distance in ad- 
 vance of the cushions, so that he arose with a 
 bump on his forehead, and his nose bleeding. 
 
 " Admirably done I splendidly done ! " cried Tony> 
 anxious to cover the disaster by a well-timed ap- 
 plause. 
 
 " I never got so much as a scratch before," said 
 Damer, as he proceeded to sponge his face. " I've 
 done the clock and the coach- window at the Adelphi, 
 and they all thought it was Salter. I could have 
 five pounds a-night and a free benefit. Is it grow- 
 ing black around the eye ? I hope it's not growing 
 black around the eye ? " 
 
 " Let me bathe it for you. By the way, have you 
 any one here could manage to get you a little newly- 
 baked dough'? That's the boxers' remedy for a 
 bruise. ' If I knew where to go, I'd fetch it my- 
 self" 
 
 Damer looked up from liis bathing proceedings, 
 and stared at the good-natured readiness of one so 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 willing to oblige as not to think of the ridicule that 
 might attach to his kindness. " My servant will go 
 for it/' said he; "just pull that bell, wiU you, and 
 I'U send him. Is not it strange how I could have 
 done this ? " continued he, still bent on explaining 
 away his failure ; " what a nose I shall have to- 
 morrow I Eh, what's that? It's Sir Harry's beU 
 ringing away furiously ! Was there ever the like of 
 this ! The only day he should have come for the 
 last eight months ! " The bell now continued to 
 ring violently, and Damer had nothing for it but to 
 huddle on his coat, and rush away to answer the 
 summons. 
 
 Though not more than ten minutes absent, Tony 
 thought the time very long; in reality, he felt 
 anxious about the poor feUow, and eager to know 
 that his disaster had not led to disgrace. 
 
 "Never so much as noticed it," said Damer — 
 " was so full of other matters. I suspect," added he, 
 in a lower tone — " I suspect we are going out." 
 
 " Out where ? " asked Tony, with simplicity. 
 
 " Out of office, out of power," replied the other, 
 half-testily ; then added, in a more conciliatory 
 voice, "I'll tell you why I think so. He began 
 filling up all the things that are vacant. I have 
 just named two colonial secretaries, a chief-justice.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 83 
 
 an auditor-general, and an inspector of convicts. I 
 thought of that for you, and handed him your letter; 
 but before he broke the seal he had filled up the 
 place." 
 
 " So, then, he has read the letter ? " 
 
 " Yes, he read it twice ; and when I told him you 
 were here in waiting, he said, ' Tell him not to go ; 
 rU see him.'" 
 
 The thought of presenting himself bodily before 
 the great man made Tony feel nervous and uncom- 
 fortable : and, after a few moments of fidgety un- 
 easiness, he said — " Wliat sort of person is he? 
 what is he like?" 
 
 " Well," said Darner, who now stood over a basin, 
 sponging his eye with cold water, " he's shy — very 
 shy — but you'd never guess it; for he has a bold 
 abrupt sort of way with him ; and he constantly 
 answers his own questions, and if the replies dis- 
 please him, he grows irritable. You've seen men 
 like that ? " 
 
 " I cannot say that I have." 
 
 "Then it's downright impossible to say when 
 he's in good humour with one, for he'll stop short 
 in a laugh and give you such a pull up ! " 
 
 " That is dreadful ! " exclaimed Tony. 
 
 " / can manage him ! They say in tlie office I'm
 
 84 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 the only fellow that ever could manage hun. There 
 goes his bell — that's for you; wait here, however, 
 till I come back." 
 
 Damer hurried away, but was back in a moment, 
 and beckoned to Tony to follow him, which he did 
 in a state of flurry and anxiety that a real peril 
 would never have caused him. 
 
 Tony found himself standing in the minister's 
 presence, where he remained for full a couple of 
 minutes before the great man lifted his head and 
 ceased writing. " Sit down," was the first saluta- 
 tion ; and as he took a chair, he had time to remark 
 the stern but handsome features of a large man 
 somewhat past the prime of life, and showing in 
 the lines of his face traces of dissipation as well as 
 of labour. 
 
 " Are you the son of Watty Butler ? " asked he, 
 as he wheeled his chair from the table and con- 
 fronted Tony. 
 
 "My father's name was Walter, sir," replied 
 Tony, not altogether without resenting this tone of 
 alluding to him. 
 
 " Walter ! nothing of the kind ; nobody ever 
 called him anything but Watty, or Wat Tartar, in 
 the regiment. Poor Watty ! you are very like him 
 — not so large — not so tall."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 85 
 
 " The same height to a hair, sir." 
 
 "Don't tell me; Watty was an inch and half 
 over you, and much broader in the chest. I think 
 I ought to know ; he has thrown me scores of times, 
 wrestling, and I suspect it would puzzle you to do 
 it." 
 
 Tony's face flushed ; he made no answer, but in 
 his heart of hearts he'd like to have had a trial. 
 
 Perhaps the great man expected some confirma- 
 tion of his opinion, or perhaps he had his own 
 doubts about its soundness ; but whatever the 
 reason, his voice was more peevish as he said, "I 
 have read your mother's note, but for the life of me 
 I cannot see what it points to. What has become 
 of your father's fortune ? he had something, surely." 
 
 " Yes, sir, he had a younger son's portion, but he 
 risked it in a speculation — some mines in Canada — 
 and lost it." 
 
 " Ay, and ' dipped ' it too by extravagance ! 
 There's no need to tell me how he lived; there 
 wasn't so wasteful a fellow in the regiment ; he'd 
 have exactly what he pleased, and spend how he 
 liked. And what has it come to ? ay, that's what I 
 ask — what has it come to ? His wife comes here 
 with this petition — for it is a petition — asking — I'll 
 be shot if I know what she asks."
 
 86 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 "Then I'll tell you/' burst in Tony; "she asks 
 the old brother-officer of her husband — the man 
 who in liis letters called liimself his brother — to 
 befriend his son, and there's nothing like a petition 
 in the whole of it." 
 
 " What ! what ! what ! This is something I'm 
 not accustomed to ! You want to make friends, 
 young man, and you must not begin by outraging 
 the very few who might chance to be well disposed 
 towards you." 
 
 Tony stood abashed and overwhelmed, his cheeks 
 on fire with shame, but he never uttered a. word. 
 
 "I have very little patronage," said Sir Harry, 
 drawing himseK up and speaking in a cold, mea- 
 sured tone; "the colonies appoint their own offi- 
 cials, with a very few exceptions. I could make 
 you a Bishop or an Attorney-General, but I couldn't 
 make you a Tide-waiter ! What can you do ? Do 
 you write a good hand ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; it is legible, that's aU." 
 
 " And, of course, you know nothing of French or 
 German ? " 
 
 " A little French ; not a word of German, sir." 
 
 " I'd be surprised if you did. It is always when 
 a feUow has utterly neglected his education that he 
 comes to a government for a place. The belief
 
 TOXY BUTLER. 87 
 
 apparently is, that the State snpports a large insti- 
 tution of incapables, eh ? " 
 
 " Perhaps there is that impiession abroad," said 
 Tony, defiantly. 
 
 "Well, sir, the impression, as you phrase it, is 
 unfounded, I can af&mL I have already declared 
 it in the House, that there is not a government in 
 Europe more ably, more honestly, or more zealously 
 served than our own. We may not have the spirit 
 of discipline of the French, or the bureaucracy of 
 the Prussian ; but we have a class of officials proud 
 of the departments they administer; and, let me 
 tell you — it's no small matter — very keen after 
 retiring pensions," 
 
 Either Sir Harry thought he had said a smart 
 thing, or that the theme suggested something that 
 tickled his fetncy, for he smiled pleasantly now on 
 Tony, and looked far better tempered than before. 
 Indeed, Tony laughed at the abrapt peroration, and 
 that laugh did him no disservice. 
 
 "Well, now, Butler, what are we to do with 
 you?" resumed the minister, good-humouredly. 
 " It's not easy to find the right thing, but TU talk 
 it over with Darner. Give hJTn your address, and 
 drop in upon him occasionally — ^not too often, but 
 now and then, so that he shouldn't forget you.
 
 88 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 Meanwhile, brush up your French and Italian. Tm 
 glad you know Italian." 
 
 " But I do not, sir ; not a syllable of the lan- 
 guage." 
 
 " Oh, it was German, then ; don't interrupt me. 
 Indeed let me take the occasion to impress upon 
 you that you have this great fault of manners — a 
 fault, I have remarked, prevalent among Irishmen, 
 and which renders them excessively troublesome in 
 the House, and brings them frequently under the 
 reproof of the Speaker. If you read the newspapers 
 you will have seen this yourself.'' 
 
 Second to a censure of himself, the severest 
 thing for poor Tony to endure was any sneer at his 
 countrymen ; but he made a great effort to remain 
 patient, and did not utter a word. 
 
 " Mind," resumed the minister, " don't misunder- 
 stand me. I do not say that your countrymen are 
 deficient in quickness and a certain ready-witted 
 way of meeting emergencies. Yes, they have that 
 as well as some other qualities of the same order, 
 but these things won't make statesmen. This was 
 an old battle-ground between your father and my- 
 self thirty years ago. Strange to think I should 
 have to fight over the same question with his son 
 now."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 89 
 
 Tony did not exactly perceive what was his share 
 in the conflict, but he still kept silence. 
 
 " Your father was a clever fellow, too, and he 
 had a brother — a much cleverer, by the way : there's 
 the man to serve you — Sir Omerod Butler. He's 
 alive, I know, for I saw his pension certificate not a 
 week ago. Have you written to him ? " 
 
 " No, sir. My father and my uncle were not on 
 speaking terms for years, and it is not likely I 
 would appeal to Sir Omerod for assistance." 
 
 " The quarrel, or coolness, or whatever it was, 
 might have been the fault of your father." 
 
 " No, sir, it was not." 
 
 " Well, with that I have no concern. All that I 
 know is, your uncle is a man of a certain influence 
 — at least with his own party — which is not ours. 
 He is, besides, rich ; an old bachelor, too, if I'm not 
 mistaken ; and so, it might be worth the while of a 
 young fellow who has his way to make in life, to 
 compromise a little of his family pride." 
 
 " I don't think so ; I won't do it," broke in Tony, 
 hotly. " If you have no other counsel to give me 
 than one you never would have given to my father, 
 all I have to say is, I wish I had spared myself the 
 trouble, and my poor mother the cost, of this jour- 
 ney."
 
 90 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 If the great man's wrath was moved by the inso- 
 lent boldness of the first part of this speech, the 
 vibrating voice and the emotion that accompanied 
 the last words touched him, and, going over to 
 where the young man stood, he laid his hand kindly 
 on his shoulder, and said, " You'll have to keep this 
 warm temper of yours in more subjection, Butler, if 
 you want to get on in life. The advice I gave you 
 was very worldly, perhaps ; but when you live to 
 be my age, such will be the temper in which you'll 
 come to consider most things. And, after all," said 
 he, with a smile, " you're only the more like you're 
 father for it ! Go away, now ; look up your deci- 
 mals, your school classics, and suchlike, to be ready 
 for the Civil Service people, and come back here in 
 a week or so — let Damer know where to find you," 
 were the last words, as Tony retired and left the room. 
 
 "Well, what success ?" cried Damer, as Tony en- 
 tered his room. 
 
 " I can scarcely tell you, but this is what took 
 place ; " and he recounted, as well as memory would 
 serve him, all that had happened. 
 
 " Then it's all right — you are quite safe," said 
 Damer. 
 
 " I don't see that, particularly as there remains 
 this examination."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 91 
 
 " Humbug — nothing but humbug ! They only 
 phick the ' swells,' the fellows who have taken a 
 double-first at Oxford. No, no ; you're as safe as a 
 church ; you'll get — let me see what it will be — 
 you'll get the Postmastership of the Bahamas ; or 
 be Deputy Coal-meter at St Helena ; or who knows 
 if he'll not give you that thing he exchanged for 
 t'other day with F. 0. It's a Consul's place, at 
 Trincolopolis. It was Cole of the Blues had it, and 
 he died ; and there are four widows of his now 
 claiming the pension. Yes, that's where you'll go, 
 rely on't. There's the bell again. Write your ad- 
 dress large, very large* on that sheet of paper, and 
 I'll send you word when there's anything up."
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 DOLLY STEWART. 
 
 Tony's first care, •when he got back to his hotel, 
 was to write to his mother. He knew how great 
 her impatience would be to hear of him, and it was 
 a sort of comfort to himself, in his loneliness, to sit 
 down and pour out his hopes and his anxieties be- 
 fore one who loved him. He told her of his meet- 
 ing with the minister, and by way of encourage- 
 ment mentioned what Darner had pronounced upon 
 that event. E"or did he forget to say how grateful 
 he felt to Damer, who, " after all, with his fine-gen- 
 tleman airs and graces, might readily have turned a 
 cold shoulder to a rough-looking fellow like me." 
 
 Poor Tony ! in his friendlessness he was very 
 grateful for very little. Nor is there anything 
 which is more characteristic of destitution than this 
 sentiment. It is as with the schoolboy, who deems 
 himself rich with a half-crown !
 
 TONY BUTLER. 93 
 
 Tony would have liked • much to make some in- 
 quiry about the family at the Abbey ; whether any 
 one had come to ask after or look for him ; whether 
 Mrs Trafford had sent down any books for his 
 mother's reading, or any fresh flowers — the only 
 present which the widow could be persuaded to 
 accept ; but he was afraid to touch on a theme that 
 had so many painful memories to himself Ah, 
 what happy days he had passed there ! what a bright 
 dream it all appeared now to look back on ! The 
 long rides along the shore, with Alice for his com- 
 panion, more free to talk with him, less reserved 
 than Isabella ; and who could, on the pretext of her 
 own experiences of life — she was a widow of two- 
 and-twenty — caution him against so many pitfalls, 
 and guard him against so many deceits of the world. 
 It was in this same quality of widow, too, that she 
 could go out to sail with him alone, making long 
 excursions along the coast, diving into bays, and 
 landing on strange islands, giving them curious 
 names as they went, and fancying that they were 
 new voyagers on unknown seas. 
 
 Were such days ever to come back again ? No, 
 he knew they could not. They never do come back, 
 even to the luckiest of us ; and how far less would 
 be our enjoyment of them if we but knew that each
 
 94 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 fleeting moment could never be reacted ! " I won- 
 der, is Alice lonely ? Does she miss me ? Isabella 
 will not care so much. She has books and her 
 drawing, and she is so self-dependent ; but Alice, 
 whose cry was, 'Where's Tony?' till it became a 
 jest against her in the house. Oh, if she but knew 
 how I envy the dog that lies at her feet, and that 
 can look up into her soft blue eyes, and wonder 
 what she is thinking of ! Well, Alice, it has come 
 at last. Here is the day you so long predicted. I 
 have set out to seek my fortune, but where is the 
 high heart and the bold spirit you promised me? I 
 have no doubt," cried he, as he paced his room im- 
 patiently, " there are plenty who would say, it is the 
 life of luxurious indolence and splendour that I am 
 sorrowing after — that it is to be a fancied great 
 man — ^to have horses to ride, and servants to wait 
 on me, and my every wish gratified, — it is all this I 
 am regretting. But / know better ! I'd be as poor 
 as ever I was, and consent never to be better, if 
 she'd just let me see her, and be with her, and love 
 her, to my own heart, without ever telling her. 
 And now the day has come that makes all these 
 bygones 1" 
 
 It was with a choking feeling in his throat almost 
 hysterical that he went down-stairs and into the
 
 TONY BUTLER. 95 
 
 street to try and walk off his gloomy humour. The 
 great city was now before him — a very wide and a 
 very noisy world — with abundance to interest and 
 attract him, had his mind been less intent on his 
 own future fortunes ; but he felt that every hour he 
 was away from his poor mother was a pang, and 
 every shilling he should spend would be a privation 
 to her. Heaven only could tell by what thrift and 
 care and time she had laid by the few pounds he 
 had carried away to pay his journey ! As his eye 
 fell upon the tempting objects of the shop-windows, 
 every moment displaying something he would have 
 liked to have brought back to her — that nice warm 
 shawl — that pretty clock for her mantelpiece — that 
 little vase for her flowers ; how he despised himself 
 for his poverty, and how meanly he thought of a 
 condition that made him a burden where he ought 
 to have been a benefit. Nor was the thought the 
 less bitter that it reminded him of the wide space 
 that separated him from her he had dared to love ! 
 " It comes to this," cried he bitterly to himself, 
 " that I have no right to be here ; no right to do 
 anything, or think of anything that I have done. 
 Of the thousands that pass me, there is not, perhaps, 
 one the world has not more need of than of me ! Is 
 there even one of all this mighty million that would
 
 96 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 have a kind word for me, if they knew the heavy 
 heart that was weighing me down ? " At this 
 minute he suddenly thought of Dolly Stewart, the 
 Doctor's daughter, whose address he had carefully 
 taken down from his mother, at Mr Alexander 
 M'Gruder's, 4 Inverness Terrace, Eichmond. 
 
 It would be a real pleasure to see Dolly's good- 
 humoured face, and hear her merry voice, instead of 
 those heavy looks and busy faces that addled and 
 confused him ; and so, as much to fill up his time 
 as to spare his purse, he set out to walk to Eichmond. 
 
 With whatever gloom and depression he began 
 his journey, his spirits rose as he gained the out- 
 skirts of the town, and rose higher and higher as he 
 felt the cheering breezes and the perfumed air that 
 swept over the rich meadows at either side of him. 
 It was, besides, such a luxuriant aspect of country 
 as he had never before seen nor imagined — fields 
 cultivated like gardens, trim hedgerows, ornamental 
 trees, picturesque villas on every hand. How beauti- 
 ful it all seemed, and how happy ! Was not DoUy a 
 lucky girl to have her lot thrown in such a paradise ? 
 How enjoyable she must find it all! — she whose 
 good spirits knew always how " to take the most 
 out of" whatever was pleasant. How he pictured 
 her delight in a scene of such loveliness !
 
 TONY BUTLER. 97 
 
 " That's Inverness Terrace yonder," said a police- 
 man, of whom he inquired the way — " that range 
 of small houses you see there," and he pointed to 
 a trim-looking row of cottage-houses on a sort of 
 artificial embankment which elevated them above 
 the surrounding buildings, and gave a view of the 
 Thames as it wound through the rich meadows be- 
 neath. They were neat with that English neatness 
 which at once pleases and shocks a foreign eye — 
 the trim propriety that loves comfort, but has no 
 heart for beauty. Thus each was like his neigh- 
 bour: the very jalousies were painted the same 
 colour ; and every ranunculus in one garden had 
 his brother in the next. No. 4 was soon found, and 
 Tony rang the bell and inquired for Miss Stewart. 
 
 " She's in the school-room with the young ladies," 
 said the woman-servant ; " but if you'll step in and 
 tell me your name, I'll send her to you." 
 
 " Just say that I have come from her own neigh- 
 bourhood ; or, better, say Mr Tony Butler would be 
 glad to see her." He had scarcely been a moment 
 in the neat but formal-looking front parlour, when a 
 very tall, thin, somewhat severe-looking lady — not 
 old, nor yet young — entered, and, without any salu- 
 tation, said, " You asked for Miss Stewart, sir — are 
 you a relative of hers ? " 
 
 VOL. L G
 
 98 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 "No, madam. My mother and Miss Stewart's 
 father are neighbours and very old friends ; and be- 
 ing by accident in London, I desired to see her, and 
 bring back news of her to the Doctor." 
 
 '' At her father's request, of course ? " 
 
 " No, madam ; I cannot say so, for I left home 
 suddenly, and had no time to tell him of my jour- 
 ney.'' 
 
 " Nor any letter from him ? " 
 
 " None, madam." 
 
 The thin lady pursed up her parched lips, and 
 bent her keen, cold eyes on the youth, who really 
 felt his cheek grow hot under the scrutiny. He 
 knew that his confession did not serve to confirm 
 his position ; and he heartily wished himseK out of 
 the house again. 
 
 " I think, then, sir," said she, coldly, " it will serve 
 every purpose if I inform you, that Miss Stewart is 
 well ; and if I tell her, that you were kind enough 
 to call and ask after her." 
 
 " I'm sure you are right, madam," said he hur- 
 riedly, moving towards the door, for already he felt 
 as if the ground was on fire beneath him — " quite 
 right ; and I'll tell the Doctor that though I didn't 
 see Miss Dora, she was in good health, and ver}' 
 happy."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 99 
 
 " I didn't say anything about her happiness that 
 I remember, sir ; but as I see her now passing the 
 door, I may leave that matter to come from her own 
 lips. Miss Stewart," cried she, louder, " there is a 
 gentleman here, who has come to inquire after you." 
 A very pale but nicely-featured young girl, wearing 
 a cap — her hair had been lately cut short in a fever 
 — entered the room, and, with a sudden flush that 
 made her positively handsome, held out her hand to 
 young Butler, saying, " Oh, Tony, I never expected 
 to see you here ! how are all at home ? " 
 
 Too much shocked at the change in her appear- 
 ance to speak, Tony could only mumble out a few 
 broken words about her father. 
 
 " Yes," cried she, eagerly, "his last letter says that 
 he rides old Dobbin about just as well as ever ; per- 
 haps it is, says he, that having both of us grown old 
 together, we bear our years with more tolerance to 
 each other ; but won't you sit down, Tony ? you're 
 not going away till I have talked a little with you." 
 
 " Is the music lesson finished. Miss Stewart ? " 
 asked the thin lady, sternly. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; we have done everything but sacred 
 history." 
 
 "Everything but the one important task, you 
 might have said. Miss Stewart ; but, perhaps, you
 
 100 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 are not now exactly in the temperament to resume 
 teaching for to-day ; and, as this young gentleman's 
 mission is apparently to report, not only on your 
 health, but your happiness, I shall leave you a 
 quarter of an hour to give him his instructions." 
 
 " I hate that woman," muttered Tony, as the door 
 closed after her. 
 
 " No, Tony, she's not unkind ; but she doesn't 
 exactly see the world the way you and I used long 
 ago. What a great big man you have grown ! " 
 
 " And what a fine tall girl, you ! And I used to 
 call you a stump." 
 
 " Ay, there were few compliments wasted between 
 us in those days ; but weren't they happy ! " 
 
 " Do you remember them all, Dolly ? " 
 
 " Every one of them — the climbing the big cheriy- 
 tree the day the branch broke, and we both fell into 
 the melon-bed ; the hunting for eels under the 
 stones in the river — wasn't that rare sport ? and 
 going out to sea in that leaky little boat, that I'd 
 not have courage to cross the Thames in now ! — oh, 
 Tony, tell me, you never were so jolly since ? " 
 
 " I don't think I was ; and what's worse, Dolly, I 
 doubt if I ever shall be." 
 
 The tone of deep despondency of these words 
 went to her heart, and her lip trembled as she said —
 
 TONY BUTLER. 101 
 
 " Have you had any bad news of late ? is there 
 anything going wrong with you ? " 
 
 " No, Dolly, nothing new, nothing strange, no- 
 thing beyond the fact that I have been staring at, 
 though I did not see it, three years back, that I am 
 a great hulking idle dog, of no earthly use to him- 
 self or to anybody else. However, I have opened 
 my eyes to it at last, and here I am, come to seek 
 my fortune, as we used to say long ago, which, after 
 all, seems a far nicer thing in a fairy book than 
 when reduced to a fact." 
 
 Dolly gave a little short cough, to cover a faint 
 sigh which escaped her, for she, too, knew something 
 about seeking her fortune, and that the search was 
 not always a success. 
 
 '' And what are you thinking of doing, Tony ? " 
 asked she, eagerly. 
 
 " Like all lazy good-for-nothings, I begin by beg- 
 ging ; that is to say, I have been to a great man this 
 morning who knew my father, to ask him to give 
 me something — to make me something." 
 
 " A soldier, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No ; mother won't listen to that. She's so in- 
 dignant about the way they treated my poor father 
 about that good-service pension — one of a race that 
 has been pouring out then- blood like water for three
 
 102 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 centuries back — that she says she'd not let me ac- 
 cept a commission if it were offered to me, without 
 it came coupled with a full apology for the wrong 
 done my father ; and as I am too old for the na\y, 
 and too ignorant for most other things, it will push 
 all the great man's ingenuity very close to find out 
 the corner to suit me." 
 
 " They talk a deal about Australia, Tony ; and, 
 indeed, I sometimes think I'd like to go there my- 
 self. I read in the ' Times ' t'other day that a dairy- 
 maid got as much as forty-six pounds a-year and 
 her board ; only fancy, forty-six pounds a-year ! Do 
 you know," added she, in a cautious whisper, " I 
 have only eighteen pounds here, and was in rare 
 luck too, they say, to get it." 
 
 " What if we were to set out together, Dolly ? " 
 said he, laughing ; but a deep scarlet fliush covered 
 her face, and though she tried to laugh too, she had 
 to turn her head away, for the tears were in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " But how could you turn dairymaid, Dolly ? " 
 cried he, half reproachfully. 
 
 "Just as well, or rather better, than you turn 
 shepherd or gold-digger. As to mere labour, it 
 would be nothing ; as to any loss of condition, I'd 
 not feel it, and therefore not suffer it."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 103 
 
 " Oh, I have no snobbery myself about working 
 with my hands/' added he, hastily ; " heaven help 
 me if I had, for my head wouldn't keep me ; but a 
 girl's bringing-up is so different from a boy's ; she 
 oughtn't to do anything menial out of her own home." 
 
 " We ought all of us just to do our best, Tony, 
 and what leaves us less of a burden to others — that's 
 my reading of it ; and when we do that we'll have 
 a quiet conscience, and that's something that many 
 a rich man couldn't buy with all his money." 
 
 "I think it's the time for the children's dinner. 
 Miss Stewart," said the grim lady, entering. " I am 
 sorry it should cut short an interview so interesting." 
 
 A half-angry reply rose to Tony's lips, when a 
 look from Dora stopped him, and he stammered out, 
 " May I call and see you again before I go back?" 
 
 " When do you go back, young gentleman ? " 
 asked the thin lady. 
 
 " That's more than I can tell. This week if I can ; 
 next week if I must." 
 
 " If you'U write me a line then, and say what day 
 it would be your convenience to come down here, 
 I wiU reply, and state whether it will be Miss 
 Stewart's and mine to receive you." 
 
 " Come at all events," said Dora, in a low voice, 
 as they shook hands and parted.
 
 104 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 " Poor Dolly ! " muttered he, as he went his way 
 towards town. " What between the pale cheeks and 
 the cropped hair, and the odious cap, I'd never 
 have known her ! " He suddenly heard the sound 
 of footsteps behind him, and turning he saw her 
 running towards him at full speed. 
 
 "You had forgotten your cane, Tony," said she, 
 half breathless, " and I knew it was an old favourite 
 of yours, and you'd be sorry to think it was lost. 
 Tell me one thing," cried she, and her cheek flushed 
 even a deeper hue than the exercise had given it, 
 " could you — would you be a clerk — in a merchant's 
 ofi&ce, I mean ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask me, Dolly ? " said he, for her 
 eager and anxious face directed all his solicitude 
 from himself to her. 
 
 " If you only would, and could, Tony," continued 
 she, "write. No; make papa write me a line to 
 say so. There, I have no time for more ; I have 
 already done enough to secure me a rare lesson 
 when I get back. Don't come here again." 
 
 She was gone before he could answer her ; and 
 with a heavier heart, and a very puzzled head, he 
 resumed his road to London, "Don't come here 
 again " ringing in his head as he went.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LYLE ABBEY AND ITS GUESTS. 
 
 The company at Lyle Abbey saw very little of 
 Maitland for some days after bis arrival : be never 
 appeared of a morning, be only once came down 
 to dinner ; bis pretext was iiidifferent bealtb, and 
 Mark sbowed a disposition to quarrel witb any one 
 wbo disputed it. Not, indeed, tbat tbe squirearcby 
 tben present were at all disposed to regret Mait- 
 land's absence. They would infinitely ratber bave 
 discussed bis peculiarities in secret committee tban 
 meet bimself in open debate. It was not very 
 easy to say wby tbey did not like bim, but sucb 
 was tbe fact. It was not tbat be overbore tbem by 
 any species of assumption ; be neitbcr took on bim 
 airs of superior station nor of superior knowledge; 
 be was neitber insolent nor baugbty ; nor was be 
 even, wbat sometimes is not less resented, careless
 
 106 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 and indifferent. His manner was a sort of middle 
 term between popularity - seeking and inattention. 
 The most marked trait in it was one common 
 enough in persons who have lived much on the 
 Continent — a great preference for the society of 
 ladies, making him almost ignore or avoid the 
 j)resence of the men around him. Not that Mait- 
 land was what is called loetit maitre ; there was 
 not any of that flippant prettiness which is sup- 
 posed to have its fascination for the fair sex ; he 
 was quiet without any touch of over-seriousness, 
 very respectful, and, at the same time, with an 
 insinuated friendliness as though the person he 
 talked to was one selected for especial cordiality ; 
 and there was a sort of tender languor, too, about 
 him, that implied some secret care in his heart, 
 of which each who listened to his conversation was 
 sure to fancy that she was, one day, to become the 
 chosen depositary. 
 
 " Do you know, Bella/' said Mrs Trafford, as they 
 sat together at the fire in her dressing-room, " I 
 shall end by half-liking him." 
 
 " I haven't got that far, Alice, though I own that 
 I am less in dread of him than I was. His supe- 
 riority is not so crushing as I feared it might be ; 
 and, certainly, if he be the Adnnrable Crichton
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 107 
 
 Mark pretends lie is, he takes every possible pains 
 to avoid all display of it." 
 
 " There may be some impertinence in that/' said 
 the other. " Did you remark how he was a week 
 here before he as much as owned he knew anything 
 of music, and listened to our weary little ballads 
 every evening without a word ? and last night, out 
 of pure caprice, as it seemed, he sits down, and 
 sings song after song of Verdi's difficult music, with 
 a tenor that reminds one of Mario." 
 
 " And which has quite convinced old Mrs Max- 
 well that he is a professional, or, as she called it, ' a 
 singing man.' " 
 
 " She would call him a sketching man, if she saw 
 the caricature he made of herself in the pony car- 
 riage, which he tore up the moment he showed to 
 me." 
 
 " One thing is clear, Alice — he means that we 
 should like him ; but he is too clever to set about 
 it in any vulgar spirit of captivation." 
 
 " That is, he seeks regard for personal qualities 
 rather more than admiration for his high gifts of 
 intellect. Well, up to this, it is his cleverness that 
 I like." 
 
 "What puzzles me is why he ever came here. 
 He is asked about everywhere, lias all manner of
 
 108 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 great houses open to him, and stores of fine people, 
 of whose intimacy you can see he is proud, and 
 yet he comes down to a dull country place in a 
 dull county; and, stranger than all, he seems to 
 like it." 
 
 " John Hunter says it is debt," said Mrs Traf- 
 ford. 
 
 " Mark Fortescue hints that a rich and handsome 
 widow has something to say to it." 
 
 " Paul M'Clintock declares that he saw your pic- 
 ture by Ary Scheffer in the Exhibition, and fell 
 madly in love with it, Bella." 
 
 '^ And old Colonel Orde says that he is intriguing 
 to get in for the borough of Coleraine ; that he saw 
 him in the garden t'other morning with a list of the 
 electors in his hand." 
 
 " My conjecture is, that he is intolerably bored 
 everywhere, and came down here to try the effects 
 of a new mode of the infliction that he had never 
 experienced before. What else would explain a 
 project I heard him arrange for this morning, — a 
 walk with Beck Graham !" 
 
 " Yes, I was in the window when he asked her 
 where she usually went in those wanderings over 
 the fern hills, with that great umbrella ; and she 
 told him to visit an old lady — a Mrs Butler — who
 
 TONY BUTLER. 109 
 
 had been a dear friend of her mother's ; and then 
 he said, ' I wish you'd take me with you. I have a 
 positive weakness for old ladies ; ' and so the bar- 
 gain was struck, that they were to go to the cottage 
 t6-day together." 
 
 " Beck, of course, fancying that it means a dis- 
 tinct avowal of attention to herself" 
 
 " And her sister, Sally, very fully persuaded that 
 Maitland is a suitor for her hand, and cunningly 
 securing Beck's good offices before he risks a de- 
 claration." 
 
 " Sally already believes that Mark is what she 
 calls 'landed;' and she gave me some pretty broad 
 hints about the insufferable pretensions of younger 
 sons, to which class she consigns him." 
 
 " And Beck told me yesterday, in confidence, that 
 Tony had been sent away from home by his mother, 
 as the last resource against the consequences of his 
 fatal passion for her." 
 
 " Poor Tony," sighed the young widow, " he never 
 thought of her." 
 
 "Did he tell you as much, Alice?" said her sis- 
 ter, slyly. 
 
 " No, dear ; it is the one subject — I mean love in 
 any shape — that we never discussed. The poor boy 
 confessed to me all his griefs about his purposeless,
 
 110 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 idle life, his mother's straitened fortune, and his 
 uncle's heartless indifference ; everything, in short, 
 that lay heavily on his heart/' 
 
 "Everything but the heaviest, Alice," said the 
 other, smiling. 
 
 " Well, if he had opened that sorrow, I'd have 
 heard him without anger ; I'd have honestly told 
 him it was a very vain and fruitless pursuit. But 
 stiU my own heart would have declared to me, that 
 a young fellow is all the better for some romance of 
 this kind — that it elevates motives and dignifies 
 actions, and, not least of all advantages, makes him 
 very uncompanionable for creatures of mere dissipa- 
 tion and excess." 
 
 " But that, of course, you were merely objective 
 the while — the source from which so many admir- 
 able results were to issue, and never so much as dis- 
 turbed by the breath of his attachment. Isn't that 
 so?" 
 
 " I'd have said. You're a very silly boy if you 
 imagine that anything can come of all this." 
 
 " And if he were to ask for the reason, and say, 
 Alice, are you not your own mistress — rich — free to 
 do whatever you incline to do ? Why should you 
 call me a fool for loving you ?" 
 
 " Take my word for it, Bella, he'll never risk the
 
 TONY BUTLER. Ill 
 
 answer he'd be sure to meet to such a speech," said 
 the other, haughtily ; and Isabella, who felt a sort 
 of awe of her sister at certain moments, desisted 
 from the theme. " Look ! yonder they go, Maitland 
 and Eebecca, not exactly arm-in-arm, but with bent- 
 down heads, and that propinquity that implies close 
 converse." 
 
 " I declare I feel quite jealous — I mean on your 
 account, Bella," said Mrs TrafFord. 
 
 " Never mind my interests in the matter, Alice," 
 said she, reddening ; " it is a matter of the most 
 complete indifference to me with whom he walks or 
 talks. Mr Norman Maitland is not to me one whit 
 more of consequence than is Tony Butler to my 
 sister." 
 
 " That's a confession, Bella — a confession wrung 
 out of a hasty moment ; for Tony certainly likes 
 me, and I know it." 
 
 "Well, then, the cases are not similar, for Mr 
 Maitland does not care for me ; or if he does, I 
 don't know it, nor do I want to know it." 
 
 " Come, darling, put on your shawl, and let us 
 have a breezy walk on the cliffs before the day 
 darkens ; neither of these gentlemen are worth the 
 slightest estrangement between such sisters as we 
 are. Whether Tony likes me or not, don't steal him
 
 112 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 Irom me, and Til promise you to be just as loyal 
 with regard to the other. How I'd like to know 
 what they are talking of there !" 
 
 As it is not impossible the reader maj^ in some 
 slight degree participate in the fair widow's senti- 
 ment, we mean to take up the conversation just as 
 it reached the time in which the remark was applied 
 to it. Miss Becky Graham was giving her com- 
 panion a sketchy description of all the persons then 
 at the Abbey, not taking any especial care to be 
 epigrammatic or picturesque, but to be literal and 
 truthful. 
 
 " Mrs Maxwell — an old horror — tolerated just 
 because she owns Tilney Park, and can leave it 
 to whom she likes ; and the Lyles hope it will fall 
 to Mark, or possibly to Bella. They stand to win 
 on either." 
 
 " And which is the favourite ?" asked Maitland, 
 with a faint smile. 
 
 " You'd like to think Isabella," said Miss Becky, 
 with a sharp piercing glance to read his thoughts at 
 an unguarded moment, if he had such, " but she is 
 not. Old aunt Maxwell — she's as much your aunt 
 as theirs — detests girls, and has, I actually believe, 
 thoughts of marrying again. By the way, you said 
 you wanted money — why not ^ go in' there ? eight
 
 TONY BUTLER. 113 
 
 thousand a-year in land, real estate, and a fine old 
 house with some great timber around it/' 
 
 " I want to pay my old debts, not incur new ones, 
 my dear Miss Graham." 
 
 " I'm not your dear Miss Graham — I'm Beck, or 
 Becky, or I'm Miss Eebecca Graham, if you want to 
 be respectful. But what do you say to the Maxwell 
 handicap ? I could do you a good turn there ; she 
 lets me say what I please to her." 
 
 "I'd rather you'd give me that privilege with 
 yourself, charming Eebecca." 
 
 " Don't, I say ; don't try that tiresome old dodge 
 of mock flattery. I'm not charming, any more than 
 you are honest or straightforward. Let us be on 
 the square — do you understand that ? of course you 
 do. Whom shall I trot out next for you ? — for the 
 whole lot shall be disposed of without any reserve. 
 Will you have Sir Arthur, with his tiresome Indian 
 stories, enhanced to himself by all the lacs of rupees 
 that are associated with them ? Will you have the 
 gay widow, who married for pique, and inherited a 
 great fortune by a blunder? Will you have Isa- 
 bella, who is angling for a coronet, but would not 
 refuse you if you are rich enough 1 Will you have 
 that very light dragoon, who thinks ' ours' the 
 standard for manners in Europe ? — or the two elder 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 brothers, grey-headed, pale-faced, husky- voiced civil 
 servants, working hard to make a fortune in advance 
 of a liver complaint ? Say the ' number,' and the 
 animal shall be led out for inspection." 
 
 " After all, it is scarcely fair in me to ask it, for 
 I don't come as a buyer." 
 
 " Well, if you have a taste for that sort of thing 
 — are we out of sight of the windows ? — if so, let 
 me have a cigarette like that you have there. I 
 haven't smoked for five months. Oh ! isn't it a 
 pleasure?" 
 
 " Tell me about Mrs Butler— who is she ? " 
 " She is Mrs Butler : and her husband, when he 
 was alive, was Colonel Butler, militarily known as 
 Wat Tartar. He was a terrible pipeclay ; and her 
 son Tony is the factotum at the Abbey ; or rather 
 he was, till Mark told him to shave a poodle, or 
 singe a pony, or paint a wheelbarrow — I forget ; 
 but I know it was something he had done once out 
 of good-humour, and the hussar creature fancied 
 he'd make him do it again through an indignity." 
 
 " And he — I mean Butler— stands upon being a 
 gentleman ? " 
 
 " I should think he does ; is not his birth good ? " 
 " Certainly ; the Butlers are of an old stock." 
 " They talk of an imcle. Sir Kamrod — it isn't
 
 TONY BUTLER. 115 
 
 Eamrod, but it's like it — a tiresome old fellow, who 
 was envoy at Naples, and who married, I believe, a 
 ballet-dancer, and who might leave Tony all his 
 fortune, if he liked — which he doesn't." 
 
 " Having no family of his own ? " asked Mait- 
 land, as he puffed his cigar. 
 
 " None ; but that doesn't matter, for he has 
 turned Jesuit, and will leave everything to the 
 sacred something or other in Eome. I've heard all 
 that from old Widow Butler, who has a perfect 
 passion for talking of her amiable brother-in-law, 
 as she calls him. She hates him — always did hate 
 him — and taught Tony to hate him ; and with all 
 that it was only yesterday she said to me that per- 
 haps she was not fully justified in sending back un- 
 opened two letters he had written to her — one after 
 the loss of some Canadian bonds of hers, which got 
 rumoured abroad in the newspapers ; the other was 
 on Tony's coming of age ; and she said, ' Becky, I 
 begin to suspect that I had no right to carry my 
 own unforgiveness to the extent of an injury to my 
 boy^-tell me what you would do.' " 
 
 " And what was your answer ?'* 
 
 " I'd have made it up with the old swell. I'd 
 say. Is not this boy more to you than all those 
 long-petticoated tonsured humbugs, who can always
 
 116 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 cheat some one or other out of an inheritance ? I'd 
 say, Look at him, and you'll fancy it's Walter tell- 
 ing you that he forgives you." 
 
 "If he be like most of his order, Miss Eecky, 
 he'd only smile at your appeal," said Maitland, 
 coldly. 
 
 "Well, I'd not let it be laughing matter with 
 him, I can teU you ; stupid wills are broken every 
 day of the week, and I don't think the Jesuits are 
 in such favour in England that a jury would decide 
 for them against an English youth of the kith and 
 kin of the testator." 
 
 " You speak cleverly. Miss Graham, and you 
 show that you know all the value that attaches to 
 popular sympathy in the age we live in." 
 
 " And don't you agree with me ? " 
 
 " Ah, there's a deal to be said on either side." 
 
 " Then, for heaven's sake, don't say it. There — 
 no — more to the left — there, where you see the blue 
 smoke rising over the rocks — there stands the 
 widow's cottage. I don't know how she endures 
 the loneliness of it. Could you face such a life ?" 
 
 "A double solitude — what the French call an 
 egoisme a deux — is not so insupportable. In fact, 
 it all depends upon ' the partner with whom we 
 share our isolation.' " He threw a tone of half ten-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 117 
 
 derness into the words that made them very sig- 
 nificant, and Eebecca gave him one of her quick 
 sudden glances with which she often read a secret 
 motive. This time, however, she failed. There 
 was nothing in that sallow but handsome face that 
 revealed a clue to anything. 
 
 "I'll have to ask Mrs Butler's leave before I 
 present you," said she, suddenly. 
 
 " Of course, I'll await her permission." 
 " The chances are she'll say no ; indeed, it is all 
 but certain she will." 
 
 "Then I must resign myself to patience and a 
 cigar till you come out again," said he, calmly. 
 
 " Shall I say that there's any reason for your 
 visit ? Do you know any Butlers, or have you any 
 relationship, real or pretended, with the family, that 
 would make a pretext for coming to see her?" 
 
 Had Miss Graham only glanced as keenly at 
 Maitland's features now as she had a few moments 
 back, she might have seen a faint — a very faint 
 flush cross his cheek, and then give way to a deep 
 paleness. " No," said he, coldly, " I cannot pretend 
 the shadow of a claim to her acquaintance, and I 
 can scarcely presume to ask you to present me as a 
 friend of your own, except in the common accepta- 
 tion given to the word."
 
 118 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 "Oh, I'll do that readily enough. Bless your 
 heart, if there was anything to be gained by it I'd 
 call you my cousin, and address you as Norman all 
 the time of the visit." 
 
 "If you but knew how the familiarity would 
 flatter me, particularly were I to return it ! " 
 
 " And call me Becky — I hope ! Well, you are a 
 cool hand !" 
 
 '^ My friends are in the habit of amusing them- 
 selves with my diffidence and my timidity." 
 
 " They must be very ill off for a pastime, then. 
 I used to think Mark Lyle bad enough, but his is a 
 blushing bashfulness compared to yours." 
 
 " You only see me in my struggle to overcome a 
 natural defect. Miss Graham — just as a coward 
 assumes the bully to conceal his poltroonery ; you 
 regard in me the mock audacity that strives to 
 shroud a most painful modesty." 
 
 She looked full at him for an instant, and then 
 burst into a loud and joyful fit of laughter, in 
 which he joined without the faintest show of dis- 
 pleasure. " Well, I believe you are good-tempered," 
 said she, frankly. 
 
 " The best in the world ; I am very seldom 
 angry ; I never bear malice."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 119 
 
 "Have you any other good qualities?" asked 
 she, with a slight mockery in her voice. 
 
 " Yes— many : I am trustful to the verge of 
 credulity ; I am generous to the limits of extrava- 
 gance ; I am unswerving in my friendships, and 
 without the taint of a selfishness in all my nature." 
 
 " How nice that is ! or how nice it must be ! " 
 
 " I could grow eloquent over my gifts, if it were 
 not that my bashfulness might embarrass me." 
 
 "Have you any faults?" 
 
 " I don't think so ; at least I can't recall any." 
 
 "Nor failings?" 
 
 " Failings ! perhaps," said he, dubiously ; " but 
 they are, after all, mere weaknesses — such as a 
 liking for splendour — a love of luxury generally — 
 a taste for profusion, a sort of regal profusion, in 
 daily life, which occasionally jars with my circum- 
 stances, making me, not irritable — I am never irrit- 
 able — but low-spirited and depressed." 
 
 " Then, from what you have told me, I tliink I'd 
 better say to Mrs Butler that there's an angel wait- 
 ing: outside who is most anxious to make her 
 
 CD 
 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " Do so ; and add, that he'll fold his wings, and 
 sit on this stone till you come to fetch him."
 
 120 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 " Au revoir, Gabriel, then," said she, passing in 
 at the wicket, and taking her way through the little 
 garden. 
 
 Maitland sat discussing in his own mind the pro- 
 blem how far Alcibiades was right or wrong in 
 endeavouring to divert the world from any criti- 
 cism of himself by a certain alteration in his dog's 
 tail, rather opining that in our day, at least, the 
 wiser course would have been to avoid all comment 
 whatsoever, — the imputation of an eccentricity 
 being only second to the accusation of a crime. 
 With the Greeks of that day the false scent was 
 probably a success ; with the English of ours, the 
 real wisdom is not to be hunted. " Oh, if it were 
 all to be done again, how very differently I should 
 doit!" 
 
 " Indeed, and in what respect ? " said a voice be- 
 hind his shoulder. He looked up and saw Beck 
 Graham gazing on him with something of interest 
 in her expression. " How so ? " cried she again. 
 ISTot in the slightest degree discomposed or flurried, 
 he lay lazily back on the sward, and, drawing his 
 hand over his eyes to shade them from the sun, said, 
 in a half-languid w^eary tone, '' If it were to do again, 
 I'd go in for happiness." 
 
 " What do you mean by happiness ? "
 
 TONY BUTLER. 121 
 
 " Wliat we all mean by it : an organised selfish- 
 ness, that draws a close cordon round our honie, and 
 takes care to keep out, so far as possible, duns, 
 bores, fevers, and fashionable acquaintances. By 
 the way, is your visit ended, or will she see me ? " 
 
 " Not to-day. She hopes to-morrow to be able. 
 She asks if you are of the Maitlands of Gillie — 
 Gillie, not 'Crankie,' but a sound like it — and if 
 your mother's name was Janet." 
 
 " And I trust, from the little you know of me, you 
 assured her it could not be," said he, calmly. 
 
 " Well, I said that I knew no more of your family 
 than all the rest of us up at the Abbey, who have 
 been sifting all the INIaitlands in the three kingdoms, 
 in the hope of finding you." 
 
 " How flattering ! and, at the same time, how vain 
 a labour ! The name came to me with some fortune. 
 I took it as I'd have taken a more ill-sounding one, 
 for money ! Who wouldn't be baptised in bank 
 stock ? I hope it's not on the plea of my mother 
 being Janet, that she consents to receive me ? " 
 
 " She hopes you are Lady Janet's son, and that 
 you have the Maitland eyes, which it seems are 
 dark, and a something in their manner which she 
 assures me was especially captivating." 
 
 " And for which, I trust, you vouched ? "
 
 122 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " Yes. I said you were a clever sort of person, 
 that could do a number of things well, and that I 
 for one didn't quarrel with your vanity or conceit, 
 but thought them rather good fun." 
 
 " So they are ! and well laugh at them together," 
 said he, rising, and preparing to set out. *' What a 
 blessing to find one that really understands me ! I 
 wish to heaven that you were not engaged ! " 
 
 " And who says I am ? " cried she, almost fiercely. 
 
 " Did I dream it ? Who knows ? The fact is, my 
 dear Miss Becky, we do talk with such a rare free- 
 dom to each other, it is pardonable to mix up one's 
 reveries with his actual information. How do you 
 pall that ruin yonder ? " 
 
 " Dunluce." 
 
 " And that great bluff beyond it V 
 . " Fairhead." 
 
 " I'll take a long walk to-morrow, and visit that 
 part of the coast." 
 
 " You are forgetting you are to call on Mrs Butler." 
 
 " So I was. At what hour are we to be here ? " 
 
 " There is no question of 'we * in the matter ; 
 your modesty must make its advances alone." 
 
 "You are not angry with me, carissima Eebecca?" 
 
 " Don't think that a familiarity is less a liberty 
 because it is dressed in a foreign tongue."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 123 
 
 " But it would ' out ; ' the expression forced itself 
 from my lips in spite of me, just as some of the 
 sharp things you have been saying to me were per- 
 fectly irrepressible." 
 
 " I suspect you like this sort of sparring ? " 
 
 "Delight in it." 
 
 "So do I. There's only one condition I make: 
 whenever you mean to take off the gloves, and in- 
 tend to liit out hard, that you'll say so before. Is 
 that agreed ? " 
 
 " It's a bargain." 
 
 She held out her hand frankly, and he took it as 
 cordially ; and in a hearty squeeze the compact was 
 ratified. 
 
 " Shall I tell you," said she, as they drew nigh the 
 Abbey, " that you are a great puzzle to us all here ? 
 We none of us can guess how so great a person as 
 yourself should condescend to come doAvn to such 
 an out-o' -the- world spot, and waste his fascinations 
 on such dull company." 
 
 " Your explanation, I'll wager, was the tiiie one : 
 let me hear it." 
 
 " I called it eccentricity ; the oddity of a man who 
 had traded so long in oddity that he grew to be in- 
 explicable, even to himself, and that an Irish coun- 
 try-house was one of the few things you had not
 
 124 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 'done/ and that you were determined to 'do' 
 
 it." 
 
 "There was that, and something more/' said 
 Maitland, thoughtfully. 
 
 " The ' something more ' being, I take it, the 
 whole secret." 
 
 " As you read me like a book. Miss Eebecca, all I 
 ask is, that you'll shut the volume when you've done 
 with it, and not talk over it mth your literary 
 friends." 
 
 " It is not my way/' said she, half pettishly ; and 
 they reached the door as she spoke.
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 SOME EXPLANATIONS. 
 
 If there was anything strange or inexplicable in 
 the appearance of one of Maitland's pretensions in 
 an unfrequented and obscure part of the world — 
 if there was matter in it to puzzle the wise heads of 
 squires, and make country intelligences look con- 
 fused, there is no earthly reason why any mystifica- 
 tion should be practised with our reader. He at 
 least is under our guidance, and to him we impart 
 whatever is known to ourselves. For a variety of 
 reasons, some of which this history later on will 
 disclose — others, the less imminent, we are free now 
 to avow — Mr Norman Maitland had latterly ad- 
 dressed much of liis mind to the political intrigues 
 of a foreign country : that country was Naples. He 
 had known it — we are not free to say how, at this 
 place — from his childhood ; he knew its people in 
 every rank and class ; he knew its dialect in all its
 
 126 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 idioms. He could talk the slang of the lazzaroni, 
 and the wild loatois of Calabria, just as fluently as 
 that composite language which the King Ferdinand 
 used, and which was a blending of the vulgarisms 
 of the Chiaja with the Frenchified chit-chat of the 
 Court. 
 
 There were events happening in Italy which, 
 though not for the moment involving the question 
 of Naples, suggested to the wiser heads in that 
 country the sense of a coming peril. We cannot, 
 at this place, explain how or why Maitland should 
 have been a sharer in these deeds ; it is enough to 
 say that he was one of a little knot who had free 
 access to the palace, and enjoyed constant inter- 
 course with the King — free to tell him of all that 
 went on in his brilliant capital of vice and levity — 
 to narrate its duels, its defalcations, its intrigues, its 
 family scandals and domestic disgraces — to talk of 
 anything and everything but one ; — not a word on 
 politics was to escape them ; never in the most re- 
 mote way was a syllable to drop of either what was 
 happening in the State, or what comments the 
 French or English press might pass on it. No allu- 
 sion was to escape on questions of government, nor 
 the name of a minister to be spoken, except he were 
 the hero of some notorious scandal. All these pre-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 127 
 
 cautions could not stifle fear. The menials had 
 seen the handwriting on the wall before Belshazzar's 
 eyes had fallen on it. The men who stood near the 
 throne saw that it rocked already. There was hut 
 one theme within the i^alace — the fidelity of the 
 army ; and every rude passage between the soldiery 
 and the people seemed to testify to that faithfulness. 
 Amongst those who were supposed to enjoy the 
 sovereign confidence — for none, in reality, possessed 
 it — was the Count Caffarelli, a man of very high 
 family and large fortune, and, though not in the 
 slightest degree tinctured with Liberalism in poli- 
 tics, one of the very few Neapolitan nobles who 
 either understood the drift, or estimated the force, 
 of the party of action. He foresaw the coming 
 struggle, and boded ill of its result. With Mr 
 Maitland he lived in closest intimacy. The Italian, 
 though older than the Englishman, had been his 
 companion in years of dissipation. In every capital 
 of Europe these two men had left traditions of ex- 
 travagance and excess. They had an easy access to 
 the highest circles in every city, and it was their 
 pleasure to mix in all, even to the lowest. Between 
 them there had grown what, between such men, re- 
 presented a strong friendship — that is, either would 
 readily have staked his life or his fortune ; in other
 
 128 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 words, have fought a duel, or paid the play-debts of 
 the other. Each knew the exact rules of honour 
 which guided the conduct of the other, and knew 
 besides that no other principles than these held 
 any sway or influence over him. 
 
 Caffarelli saw that the Bourbon throne was in 
 danger, and with it the fortunes of all who adhered 
 to the dynasty. If all his prejudices and sym- 
 pathies were with monarchy, these would not have 
 prevented him from making terms with the re- 
 volution, if he thought the revolution could be 
 trusted ; but this was precisely what he did not, 
 could not, believe. " Ceux qui sont Bleus restent 
 Bleus," said the first Napoleon ; and so Caffarelli 
 assured himself that a "canaille" always would 
 be a canaille. Philip Egalite was a case in point 
 of what came of such concessions ; therefore he 
 decided it was better to stand by the monarchy, 
 and that real policy consisted in providing that 
 there should be a monarchy to stand by. 
 
 To play that mock game of popularity, the being 
 cheered by the lazzaroni, was the extent of tolera- 
 tion to which the King could be persuaded. In- 
 deed, he thought these vivas the hearty outburst 
 of a fervent and affectionate loyalty, and many 
 of his ministers appeared to concur with him.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 129 
 
 CafFarelli, who was Master of the Horse, deemed 
 otherwise, and confessed to Maitland that, though 
 assassination was cheap enough in the quarter of 
 Santa Lucia, there was a most indiscriminating 
 indifference as to who might be the victim, and 
 that the old Marquess of Montanara, the Prefect 
 of the Palace, would not cost a "carlino" more 
 than the veriest follower of Mazzini. 
 
 Both Caffarelli and Maitland enjoyed secret 
 sources of information. They were members of 
 that strange league which has a link in every 
 grade and class of Neapolitan society, and makes 
 the very highest in station the confidant and the 
 accomplice of the most degraded and the meanest. 
 This sect, called La Camorra, was originally a mere 
 system of organised extortion, driving, by force 
 of menace, an impost on every trade and occupa- 
 tion, and exacting its dues by means of agents 
 well known to be capable of the greatest crimes. 
 Caffarelli, who had long employed its services to 
 assist him in his intrigues or accomplish his venge- 
 ances, was a splendid contributor to its resources. 
 He was rich and munificent ; he loved profusion, 
 but he adored it when it could be made the main- 
 spring of some dark and mysterious machinery. 
 Though the Camorra was not in the remotest 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 degree political, Caffarelli learned, through its 
 agency, that the revolutionary party were hourly 
 gaining strength and courage. They saw the grow- 
 ing discontent that spread abroad about the ruling 
 dynasty, and they knew how little favour would 
 be shown the Bourbons by the "Western Powers, 
 whose counsels had been so flatly rejected, and 
 whose warnings despised. They felt that their 
 hour was approaching, and that- Northern Italy 
 would soon hasten to their aid if the work of 
 overthrow were once fairly begun. Their only 
 doubts were, lest the success, when achieved, should 
 have won nothing for them. It may be as in Forty- 
 eight, said they; we may drive the King out of 
 Naples, as we drove the Austrians out of Milan, 
 and after all only be conquering a larger kingdom 
 for the House of Savoy. Hence they hesitated 
 and held back ; nor were their fears causeless. For 
 what had revolution poured forth its blood like 
 water in Paris ? To raise up the despotism of the 
 Second Empire! 
 
 Caflfarelli was in possession of all this ; he knew 
 what they hoped, and wished, and feared. The 
 Camorra itself numbered many professed revolu- 
 tionists ("Pteds," as they liked to be called) in 
 its sect, but was itself untinctured by politics.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 131 
 
 The wily Count thought that it was a pity so 
 good an organisation should be wasted on mere 
 extortion and robbery. There were higher crimes 
 they might attain to, and grander interests they 
 might subserve. Never, perhaps, was tlie world 
 of Europe so much in the hands of a few powerful 
 men. Withdraw from it, say, half-a-dozen — one 
 could name them at once — and what a change 
 might come over the Continent! Caffarelli was 
 no assassin ; but there are men, and he was one 
 of them, that can trifle with great crimes, just as 
 children play with fire — who can jest with them, 
 laugh at them, and sport with them, till, out of 
 mere familiarity, they forget the horror they should 
 inspire and the penalty they enforce. He had 
 known Orsini intimately, and liked him ; nor did 
 he talk of his memory with less affection that he 
 had died beneath the guillotine. He would not 
 himself engage in a crime that would dishonour 
 his name ; but he knew there were a great number 
 of people in the world who could no more be punc- 
 tilious about honour than about the linen they 
 wore — fellows who walked in rags and dined off 
 garlic. Why should they stick at trifles? They 
 had no noble escutcheons to be tarnished, no 
 splendid names, no high lineage to be disgi'aced.
 
 132 TONY BUTLEFu 
 
 In fact there were crimes that became them, just 
 as certain forms of labour suited them. They 
 worked with their hands in each case. Amongst 
 the Camorra he knew many such. The difficulty 
 was to bring the power of the sect to bear upon 
 the questions that engaged him. It would not 
 have been difficult to make them revolutionists — 
 the one word pillage would have sufficed for that ; 
 the puzzle was how to make them royalists. Mere 
 pay would not do. These fellows had got a taste 
 for irregular gain. To expect to win them over 
 by pay, or retain them by discipline, was to hope 
 to convert a poacher by inviting him to a battue. 
 Caffarelli had revolved the matter very long and 
 carefully; he had talked it over scores of times 
 with Maitland. They agreed that the Camorra 
 had great capabilities, if one only could use them. 
 Through the members of that league in the army 
 they had learned that the troops, the long- vaunted 
 reliance of the monarchy, could not be trusted. 
 Many regiments were ready to take arms with the 
 Eeds ; many more would disband and return to 
 their homes. As for the navy, they declared there 
 was not one sliip's company would stand by the 
 Sovereign. The most well-affected would be neutral ; 
 none save the foreign legions would fight for the
 
 TONY BUTLER. 133 
 
 King. The question then was, to reinforce these, 
 and at once — a matter far more difficult than it 
 used to be. Switzerland would no longer permit 
 this recruitment. Austria would give none but 
 her criminals. America, it was said, abounded in 
 ardent adventurous spirits, that would readily risk 
 life in pursuit of fortune ; but then the cause was 
 not one which, by any ingenuity, could be made 
 to seem that of liberty. Nothing then remained 
 but Ireland. There there was bravery and poverty 
 both. Thousands, who liad no fears and very little 
 food, ready for any enterprise, but far readier for 
 one which could be dignified as being the battle 
 of the Truth and the cause of the Holy Father. 
 
 An Irish legion, some five or six thousand devout 
 Catholics and valiant soldiers, was a project that 
 the Minister of War at once embraced. His Excel- 
 lency saw Maitland on it, and talked over the 
 whole plan. Maitland was himself to direct all its 
 operations. Caffarelli would correspond with him 
 from Naples, and, in case of any complication or 
 difficulty, shroud the Minister from attack. Ample 
 funds would be provided. The men could be en- 
 gaged as labourers upon some great public work, 
 and forwarded in small drafts to a convenient port. 
 Arms could be easily procured from Liege. Officers
 
 134 TONY BUTLEIl. 
 
 could be readily obtained, either Irish, or Poles or 
 Hungarians who could speak English. In a word, 
 all the details had been w^eU discussed and con- 
 sidered, and Maitland, on arriving in London, had 
 again talked over the project with wise and crafty- 
 heads, whose prudent counsels showed him how 
 little fit he was personally to negotiate directly 
 with the Irish peasant, and how imperative above 
 all things it was to depute this part of his task to 
 some clever native, capable of employing the sub- 
 ordinates he needed. "Hide yourself," said they, 
 "in some out-of-the-way spot in "Wales or Scotland; 
 even the far north of Ireland will do ; remain any- 
 where near enough to have frequent communication 
 with your agent, but neither be seen nor know^n in 
 the plot yourself. Your English talk and your 
 English accent would destroy more confidence than 
 your English gold would buy." 
 
 Such an agent was soon found — a man admirably 
 adapted in many respects for the station. He had 
 been an adventurer all his life ; — served with the 
 French in Austria, and the Austrians in the Banat ; 
 held an independent command of Turks during the 
 Crimean war ; besides episodically having " done a 
 little," as he called it, on the Indian frontier with 
 the Yankees ; and served on the staff of Rosas at
 
 TONY BUTLEll. 135 
 
 La Plata; — all his great and varied experiences 
 tending to one solitary conviction, that no real suc- 
 cess was ever to be attained in anything except by 
 means of Irishmen; nor could order, peace, and 
 loyalty be ever established anywhere without their 
 assistance. If he was one of the bravest men 
 living, he was one of the most pushing and imper- 
 tinent. He would have maintained a point of law 
 against the Lord Chancellor, and contested tactics 
 with a Marshal of France. He thought himself the 
 ornament of any society he entered, and his vanity, 
 in matters of intellect, was only surpassed by his 
 personal conceit. And now one word as to his ap- 
 pearance. With the aid of cleverly -constructed 
 boots he stood five feet four, but was squarely, 
 stoutly built, broad in the chest, and very bow- 
 legged ; his head was large, and seemed larger from 
 a mass of fiery red hair, of which he was immensely 
 vain as the true Celtic colour ; he wore great whis- 
 kers, a mustache, and chhi-tuft ; but the flaming 
 hue of these seemed actually tamed and toned 
 down beside his eyes, which resembled two flaring 
 carbuncles. They were the most excitable, quarrel- 
 some, restless pair of orbs that ever beamed in a 
 human head. They twinkled and sparkled with 
 an incessant mischief, and they darted such inso-
 
 136 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 lent glances right and left, as seemed to say, " Is 
 there any one present who will presume to contra- 
 dict me?" 
 
 His boundless self-conceit would have been droll 
 if it had not been so offensive. His theory was 
 this : all men detested him ; all women adored him. 
 Europe had done little better than intrigue for the 
 last quarter of a century what country could secure 
 his services. As for the insolent things he had 
 said to kings and emperors, and the soft speeches 
 that empresses and queens had made to himself, 
 they would fill a volume. Believe him, and he had 
 been on terms of more than intimacy in every royal 
 palace of the Continent. Show the slightest sem- 
 blance of doubt in him, and the chances were that 
 he'd have had you " out " in the morning. 
 
 Amongst his self-delusions, it was one to believe 
 that his voice and accent were peculiarly insinuat- 
 ing. There was, it is true, a certain slippery insin- 
 cerity about them, but the vulgarity was the chief 
 characteristic ; and his brogue was that of Leinster, 
 which, even to Irish ears, is insufferable. 
 
 Such was, in brief, the gentleman who called 
 himself Major M'Caskey, Knight - Commander of 
 various orders, and C.S. in the Pope's household
 
 TONY BUTLER. 137 
 
 — which, interpreted, means Cameriere Secreto — 
 a something which corresponds to gentleman in 
 waiting. Maitland and he had never met. They 
 had corresponded freely, and the letters of the 
 Major had by no means made a favourable impres- 
 sion npon Maitland, who had more than once for- 
 warded extracts from them to the committees in 
 London, pettishly asking, " if something better 
 could not be found than the writer of this rubbish." 
 And yet, for the work before him, " the writer of 
 this rubbish" was a most competent hand. He 
 knew his countrymen well — knew how to approach 
 them by those mingled appeals to their love of 
 adventure and love of gain — their passion for fight- 
 ing, for carelessness, for disorder; and, above all, 
 that wide uncertainty as to what is to come, which 
 is to an Irishman's nature the most irresistible of 
 all seductions. The Major had established commit- 
 tees — in other words, recruiting depots — in several 
 county towns ; had named a considerable number 
 of petty officers ; and was only waiting Maitland's 
 orders whether or not he should propose the expe- 
 dition to adventurous but out-at-elbows young fel- 
 lows of a superior station — the class from which 
 officers might be taken. We have now said enough
 
 138 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 of him and the project that engaged him to admit 
 of our presenting him to our readers in one of his 
 brief epistles. It was dated 
 
 "Castle Durrow, August — , 18 — . 
 
 " Sm, — I have the honour to report for your infor- 
 mation that I yesterday enrolled in this town and 
 neighbourhood eighteen fine fellows for H.N.M. 
 Two of them are returned convicts, and three more 
 are bound over to come up for sentence at a future 
 assizes, and one, whom I have named a corporal, is 
 the notorious Hayes, who shot Captain Macan on 
 the fair green at Ballinasloe. So you see there's 
 little fear that they'll want to come back here when 
 once they have attained to the style and dignity 
 of Neapolitan citizens. Bounty is higher here by 
 from sixteen to twenty shillings than in Meath; 
 indeed, fellows who can handle a gun, or are any- 
 ways ready with a weapon, can always command a 
 job from one of the secret clubs ; and my experi- 
 ences (wide as most men's) lead me entirely to the 
 selection of those who have shown any aptitude for 
 active service. I want your permission and in- 
 struction to engage some young gentlemen of fam- 
 ily and station, for the which I must necessarily 
 be provided with means of entertainment. ' Tafel
 
 TONY BUTLER. 139 
 
 Gelt ist niclit Teufel's Gelt/ says the Austrian 
 adage; and I believe a very moderate outlay, as- 
 sisted by my own humble gifts of persuasion, will 
 suffice. ' Seduction de M'Caskey,' was a proverb in 
 the 8th Voltigeurs. You may ask a certain high 
 personage in France, who it was that told him not 
 to despair on a particular evening at Strasbourg. 
 A hundred pounds — ^better if a hundred and fifty — 
 would be useful. The medals of His Holiness have 
 done well, but I only distribute them in the lower 
 ranks. Some titles would be very advisable if I 
 am to deal with the higher class. Herewith you 
 have a muster-roll of what has been done in two 
 counties ; and I say it without fear, not a man in 
 the three kingdoms could have accomplished it but 
 Miles M'C. Marmont could plan, but not execute ; 
 Massena execute, but not organise ; Soult could do 
 none but the last. It is no vanity makes me 
 declare that I combine all the three qualities. You 
 see me now ' organising ; ' in a few days you shall 
 judge of me in the field ; and, later on, if my con- 
 victions do not deceive me, in the higher sphere of 
 directing the great operations of an army. I place 
 these words in your hands that they may be on 
 record. If M'Caskey falls, it is a great destiny cut 
 off ; but posterity will see that he died in the full
 
 140 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 conviction of his genius. I have drawn on you for 
 thirty-eight, ten, and six ; and to-morrow will draw 
 again for seventy-four, fifteen. 
 
 " Your note has just come. I am forced to say 
 that its tone is not that to which, in the sphere I 
 have moved, I have been accustomed. If I am to 
 regard you as my superior ofiicer, duty cries. Sub- 
 mit. If you be simply a civiKan, no matter how 
 exalted, I ask explanation. The dinner at the Daw- 
 son Arms was necessary ; the champagne was not 
 excessive ; none of the company were really drunk 
 before ten o'clock ; and the destruction of the furni- 
 ture was a plaisanterie of a young gentleman from 
 Louth who was going into holy orders, and might 
 most probably not have another such spree in all 
 his life again. Are you satisfied ? If not, tell me 
 what and where any other satisfaction may meet 
 your wishes. You say. Let us meet. I reply, Yes, 
 in any way you desire. You have not answered 
 my demand — it was demand, not request — to be 
 Count M'Caskey. I have written to Count Caffa- 
 relli on the subject, and have thoughts of address- 
 ing the King. Don't talk to me of decorations. I 
 have no room for them on the breast of my coat. 
 I am forced to say these things to you, for I cannot 
 persuade myself that you really know or under-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 141 
 
 stand the man you correspond with. After all, it 
 took Eadetzky a year, and Omar Pasha seventeen 
 months, to arrive at that knowledge which my im- 
 patience, unjustly perhaps, complains that you have 
 not attained to. Yet I feel we shall like each 
 other; and were it not like precipitancy, I'd say, 
 Believe me, dear Maitland, very faithfully your 
 friend, 
 
 "Miles M'Caskey." 
 
 The answer to this was very brief, and ran thus — 
 
 ** Lyle Abbey, Angitst. 
 " SiK, — You wOl come to Coleraine, and await 
 my orders there — the first of which will be, to take 
 no liberties of any kind with your obedient servant, 
 
 "Norman Maitland. 
 
 ** Major M'Caskey, 
 The Dawson Arras, Castle Durrow. 
 
 " P. S. — Avoid all English acquaintances on your 
 road. Give yourself out to be a foreigner, and 
 speak as little as possible."
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 MAITLAND S FRIEND. 
 
 " I don't think I'll walk down to the Burnside 
 with you to-day," said Beck Graham to Maitland, 
 on the morning after their excursion. 
 
 *'And why not?" 
 
 " People have begun to talk of our going off to- 
 gether alone, long solitary walks. They say it 
 means something — or nothing." 
 
 " So, I opine, does every step and incident of our 
 lives." 
 
 " Well. You understand what I intended to say." 
 
 " Not very clearly, perhaps ; but I shall wait a 
 little farther explanation. What is it that the re- 
 spectable public imputes to us ? " 
 
 " That you are a very dangerous companion for a 
 young lady in a country walk." 
 
 " But, am I ? Don't you think you are in a 
 position to refute such a calumny?"
 
 TONY BUTLER. 143 
 
 " I spoke of you as I found you." 
 
 "And how might that be?" 
 
 "Veiy amusing at some moments; very absent 
 at others ; very desirous to be thought lenient and 
 charitable in your judgments of people, while evi- 
 dently thinking the worst of every one ; and with a 
 rare frankness about yourself, that to any one not 
 very much interested to learn the truth, was really 
 as valuable as the true article." 
 
 "^But you never charged me with any ungenerous 
 use of my advantage ; to make professions, for in- 
 stance, because I found you alone." 
 
 " A little — a very little of that — there was ; just 
 as children stamp on thin ice and run away when 
 they hear it crack beneath them." 
 
 "Did I go so far as that?" 
 
 " Yes ; and Sally says, if she was in my place, 
 she'd send papa to you this morning." 
 
 "And I should be charmed to see him. There 
 are no people whom I prefer to naval .men. They 
 have the fresh, vigorous, healthy tone of their own 
 sea life in all they say." 
 
 " Yes ; you'd have found him vigorous enough, 
 I promise you." 
 
 " And why did you consult your sister at all ? " 
 
 " I did not consult her ; she got all out of me by
 
 144 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 cross-questioning. She began by saying, ' That man 
 is a mystery to me ; he has not come down here to 
 look after the widow nor Isabella ; he's not thinking 
 of politics nor the borough ; there's no one here 
 that he wants or cares for. What can he be at ? * " 
 
 " Couldn't you have told her, that he was one of 
 those men who have lived so much in the world, it 
 is a luxury to them to live a little out of it ? Just 
 as it is a relief to sit in a darkened room after your 
 eyes have been dazzled with too strong light. 
 Couldn't you have said, He delights to talk and 
 walk with me, because he sees that he may expand 
 freely, and say what comes uppermost, without any 
 fear of an unfair inference? That, for the same 
 reason — the pleasure of an unrestricted intercourse 
 — he wishes to know old Mrs Butler, a.nd talk with 
 her — over anything, in short? Just to keep mind 
 and faculties moving — as a light breeze stirs a lake 
 and prevents stagnation." 
 
 " "Well. I'm not going to perform Zephyr — even 
 in such a high cause." 
 
 " Couldn't you have said. We had a pleasant walk 
 and a mild cigarette together — voilcb tout ? " said he, 
 languidly. 
 
 " I think it would be very easy to hate you — ^hate 
 you cordially — Mr Norman Maitland."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 145 
 
 " So I've been told — and some have even tried it, 
 but always unsuccessfully." 
 
 " Who is this wonderful foreigner they are making 
 so much of at the Castle and the Viceregal Lodge ? " 
 cried Mark from one of the window recesses, where 
 he was reading a newspaper. " Maitland, you who 
 know all these people, who is the Prince Caffarelli?" 
 "CaffareUi! it must be the Count," cried Mait- 
 land, hurrying over to see the paragraph. " The 
 Prince is upwards of eighty; but his son. Count 
 Caffarelli, is my dearest friend in the world. Wliat 
 could have brought him over to Ireland ? " 
 
 " Ah ! there is the very question he himself is 
 asking about the great Mr Norman Maitland," said 
 Mrs Trafford, smiling. 
 
 " My reasons are easily stated. I had an admir- 
 able friend, who could secure me a most hospitable 
 reception. I came here to enjoy the courtesies of 
 country home life in a perfection I scarcely believed 
 they could attain to. The most unremitting atten- 
 tion to one's comfort, combined with the wildest 
 liberty." 
 
 "And such port wine," interposed the Commo- 
 dore, " as I am free to say no other cellar in the 
 province can rival." 
 
 " Let us come back to your Prince or Count," said 
 VOL. L K
 
 146 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 Mark, " whichever he is. Why not ask him down 
 here?" 
 
 " Yes ; we have room," said Lady Lyle ; " the 
 M'Clintocks left this morning." 
 
 " By all means, invite him/' broke in Mrs Traf- 
 ford ; " that is, if he be what we conjecture the dear 
 friend of Mr Maitland might and should be." 
 
 " I am afraid to speak of him," said Maitland ; 
 " one disserves a friend by any over-praise ; but at 
 Naples, and in his own set, he is thought charm- 
 ing." 
 
 " I like Italians myself," said Colonel Hoyle. 
 " I had a fellow I picked up at Malta — a certain 
 Geronimo. Fm not sure he was not a Maltese ; but 
 such a salad as he could make ! There was every- 
 thing you could think of in it — tomata, eggs, sar- 
 dines, radishes, beetroot, cucumber." 
 
 " Every Italian is a bit of a cook," said Maitland, 
 relieving adroitly the company from the tiresome 
 detail of the Colonel. " 111 back my friend Cafifa- 
 relli for a dish of maccaroni against aU professional 
 artists." 
 
 While the Colonel and his wife got into a hot 
 dispute whether there was or was not a slight 
 flavour of parmesan in the salad, the others gathered 
 around Maitland to hear more of his friend. In-
 
 TONY" BUTLER. 147 
 
 deed it was something new to all to hear of an 
 Italian of class and condition. They only knew the 
 nation as tenors, or modellers, or language-masters. 
 Their compound idea of Italian was a thing of dark 
 skin and dark eyes — very careless in dress — very 
 submissive in aspect — with a sort of subdued fire, 
 however, in look, that seemed to say how much 
 energy was only sleeping there ; and when Maitland 
 sketched the domestic ties of a rich magnate of the 
 land, living a life of luxurious indolence, in a sort 
 of childlike simplicity as to what engaged other 
 men in other countries, without a thought for 
 questions of politics, religion, or literature, living 
 for mere life's sake, he interested them much. 
 
 " I shall be delighted to ask liim here," said he, 
 at last ; " only let me warn you against disappoint- 
 ment. He'll not be witty like a Frenchman, nor 
 profound like a German, nor energetic like an Eng- 
 lishman — he'll neither want to gain knowledge nor 
 impart it. He'U only ask to be permitted to enjoy 
 the pleasures of a very charming society without 
 any demand being made upon him to contribute 
 anything — to make him fancy, in short, that he 
 knew you all years and years ago, and has just 
 come back out of cloudland to renew the intimacy. 
 Will you have him after this ? "
 
 148 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " By all means," was the reply. " Go and write 
 your letter to him." 
 
 Maitland went to his room, and soon wrote the 
 following : — 
 
 " Caro Carlo mio, — AVlio'd have thought of seeing 
 you in Ireland ? but I have scarce courage to ask 
 you how and why you came here, lest you retort the 
 question upon myself. For the moment, however, 
 I am comfortably established in a goodish sort of 
 country-house, with some pretty women, and, thank 
 Heaven, no young men save one son of the family, 
 whom I have made sufficiently afraid of me to repress 
 all familiarities. They beg me to ask you here, and 
 I see nothing against it. We eat and drink very 
 well. The place is healthy, and though the climate 
 is detestable, it braces and gives appetite. We shall 
 have, at all events, ample time to talk over much that 
 interests us both, and so I say. Come ! 
 
 " The road is by Belfast, and thence to Coleraine, 
 where we shall take care to meet you. I ought to 
 add that your host's name is Sir Arthur Lyle, an 
 Anglo-Indian, but who, thank your stars for it ! 
 being a civilian, has neither shot tigers nor stuck 
 pigs. It will also be a relief to you to learn that 
 there's no sport of any kind in the neighbourhood,
 
 TONY BUTLER. 149 
 
 and there cannot be the shade of a pretext for mak- 
 ing you mount a horse or carry a gun, nor can any 
 insidious tormentor persecute you with objects of 
 interest or antiquity ; and so, once again, Come, and 
 believe me, ever your most cordial friend, 
 
 "K Maitland. 
 
 " There is no reason why you should not be here 
 by Saturday, so that, if nothing contrary is declared, 
 I shall look out for you by that day ; but write at all 
 events."
 
 CHAETEE X. 
 
 A BLUNDER. 
 
 Sir Arthur Lyle was a county dignity, and some- 
 what fond of showing it. It is true he could not 
 compete with the old blood of the land, or contest 
 place with an O'Neil or an O'Hara ; but his wealth 
 gave him a special power, and it was a power that 
 all could appreciate. There was no mistake about 
 one who could head a subscription by a hundred 
 pounds, or write himself patron of a school or an 
 hospital with a thousand ! And then his house was 
 more splendid, his servants more numerous, their 
 liveries finer, his horses better, than his neighbours ; 
 and he was not above making these advantages ap- 
 parent. Perhaps his Indian experiences may have 
 influenced his leanings, and taught him to place a 
 higher value on show and all the details of external 
 greatness. On everything that savoured of a public 
 occasion, he came with all the pomp and parade of
 
 TONY BUTLER. 151 
 
 a sovereign. A meeting of poor-law guardians, a 
 committee of the county infirmary, a board of rail- 
 way directors, were all events to be signalised by his 
 splendid appearance. 
 
 His coach and four, and his outriders — for he had 
 outriders — were admirable in all their appointments. 
 Eoyalty could not have swung upon more perfectly 
 balanced nor easier springs, nor could a royal team 
 have beat the earth with a grander action or more 
 measured rhythm. The harness — bating the excess 
 of splendour — was perfect. It was massive and 
 well-fitting. As for the servants, a master of the 
 horse could not have detected an inaccurate fold in 
 their cravats, nor a crease in their silk stockings. 
 Let the world be as critical or slighting as it may, 
 these things are successes. They are trifles only 
 to him who has not attempted them. Neither is 
 it true to say that money can command them, for 
 there is much in them that mere money cannot do. 
 Tliere is a keeping in all details — a certain "tone" 
 throughout, and, above all, a discipline, the least 
 flaw in which would convert a solemn display 
 into a mockery. 
 
 Neighbours might criticise the propriety or can- 
 vass the taste of so much ostentation, but none, not 
 the most sarcastic or scrutinising, could say one
 
 152 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 word against the display itself ; and so, when on a 
 certain forenoon the dense crowd of the market-place 
 scattered and fled right and left to make way for the 
 prancing leaders of that haughty equipage, the sense 
 of admiration overcame even the unpleasant feel- 
 ing of inferiority, and that flunkeyism that has its 
 hold on humanity felt a sort of honour in being 
 hunted away by such magnificence. 
 
 Through the large square — or Diamond, as the 
 northerns love to call it — of the town they came, 
 upsetting apple -stalls and crockery -booths, and 
 frightening old peasant women, who, with a goose 
 under one arm and a hank of yarn under the other, 
 were bent on enterprises of barter and commerce. 
 Sir Arthur drove up to the bank, of which he was 
 the governor, and on whose steps, to receive him, now 
 stood the other members of the board. With his 
 massive gold watch in hand, he announced that the 
 fourteen miles had been done in an hour and sixteen 
 minutes, and pointed to the glossy team, whose 
 swollen veins stood out like whip-cord, to prove 
 that there was no distress to the cattle. The board 
 chorussed assent, and one — doubtless an ambitious 
 man — actually passed his hand down the back 
 sinews of a wheeler, and said : " Cool as spring- 
 water, I pledge my honour." Sir Arthur smiled
 
 TONY BUTLER. 153 
 
 benignly, looked up at the sky, gave an approving 
 look at the sun as though to say, Not bad for Ireland 
 — and entered the bank. 
 
 It was about five o'clock in the same evenino: 
 when the great man again appeared at the same 
 place ; he was flushed and weary-looking. Some 
 rebellious spirits — is not the world full of them ? — 
 had dared to oppose one of his ordinances. They 
 had ventured to question some subsidy that he would 
 accord, or refuse, to some local line of railroad. The 
 opposition had deeply offended him ; and though he 
 had crushed it, it had wounded him. He was him- 
 self the bank ! — its high repute, its great credit, its 
 large connection, were aU of his making ; and that 
 same Mr M'Candlish who had dared to oppose him, 
 was a creature of his own — that is, he had made 
 him a tithe -valuator, or a road -inspector, or a 
 stamp-distributor, or a something or other of the 
 hundred petty places which he distributed just as 
 the monks of old gave alms at the gates of their 
 convents. 
 
 Sir Arthur whispered a word to Mr Boyd, the 
 secretary, as he passed down-stairs. "How does 
 M'Candlish stand with the bank ? He has had 
 advances lately — send me a note of them." And 
 thus bent on reprisals, he stood waiting for that
 
 154 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 gorgeous equipage which was now standing fully- 
 ready in the inn yard, while the coachman was 
 discussing a chop and a pot of porter. "Why is 
 not he ready V asked Sir Arthur, impatiently. 
 
 "He was getting a nail in Blenheim's off fore- 
 shoe, sir," was the ready reply ; and as Blenheim 
 was a blood bay sixteen-three, and worth two 
 hundred and fifty pounds, there was no more to be 
 said ; and so Sir Arthur saw the rest of the board 
 depart on jaunting-cars, gigs, or dog-carts as it might 
 be — humble men with humble conveyances, that 
 could take them to their homes without the delays 
 that wait upon greatness. 
 
 "Anything new stirring, Boyd?" asked Sir Arthur, 
 trying not to show that he was waiting for the 
 pleasure of his coachman. 
 
 " No, sir ; all dull as ditch-water." 
 
 " We want rain, I fancy — don't we ? " 
 
 " We'd not be worse for a little, sir. The after- 
 grass, at least, would benefit by it." 
 
 "Wliy don't you pave this town better, Boyd? 
 I'm certain it was these rascally stones twisted 
 Blenheim's shoe." 
 
 " Our corporation will do nothing, sir — nothing," 
 said the other, in a whisper. 
 
 " Who is that fellow with the large whiskers.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 155 
 
 yonder — on the steps of the hotel ? He looks as if 
 he owned the town." 
 
 "A foreigner, Sir Arthur; a Frenchman or a 
 German, I believe. He came over this morning 
 to ask if we knew the address of Mr Norman Mait- 
 land." 
 
 " Count Caffarelli," muttered Sir Arthur to him- 
 self — " what a chance that I should see him ! How 
 did he come ? " 
 
 " Posted, sir ; slept at Cookstown last night, and 
 came here to breakfast." 
 
 Though the figure of the illustrious stranger was 
 very far from what Sir Arthur was led to expect, he 
 knew that personal appearance was not so distinc- 
 tive abroad as in England, and so he began to con 
 over to himself what words of French he could mus- 
 ter, to make his advances. Now, had it been Hin- 
 dostanee that was required. Sir Arthur would have 
 opened his negotiations with all the florid elegance 
 that could be wished ; but French was a tongue in 
 which he had never been a proficient, and, in his 
 ordinary life, had little need of. He thought, how- 
 ever, that his magnificent carriage and splendid 
 horses would help him out of the blunders of de- 
 clensions and genders, and that what he wanted in 
 grammar he could make up in greatness. " Follow
 
 156 TOXY BUTLER. 
 
 me to M'Grotty's," said he to his coachman, and 
 took the way across the square. 
 
 Major M'Caskey — for it was no other than that 
 distinguished gentleman — was standing with both 
 hands in the pockets of a very short shooting -jacket, 
 and a clay pipe in his mouth, as Sir Arthur, courte- 
 ously uncovering, bowed his way up the steps, say- 
 ing something in which "I'honneur," "la felicity," 
 and " infiniment flatte," floated amidst a number of 
 less intelligibly rendered syllables, ending the whole 
 with " Ami de mon ami, M. Norman Maitland." 
 
 Major M'Caskey raised his hat straight above his 
 head and replaced it, listening calmly to the embar- 
 rassed attempts of the other, and then coldly replied 
 in French, " I have the honour to be the friend of 
 M. Maitland — How and when can I see him?" 
 
 "If you will condescend to be my guest, and 
 allow me to offer you a seat with me to Lyle Abbey, 
 you will see your friend." And, as Sir Arthur 
 spoke, he pointed to his carriage. 
 
 " Ah, and this is yours ? Pardie ! it's remark- 
 ably well done. I accept at once. Fetch down my 
 portmanteau and the pistol-case," said he to a small, 
 ill-looking boy in a shabby green livery, and to 
 whom he spoke in a whisper ; while turning to Sir 
 Arthur, he resumed his French. " This I caU a
 
 TONY BUTLER. 157 
 
 real piece of good-fortune — I was just saying to 
 myself, Here I am ; and though he says, Come ! 
 how are we to meet ?" 
 
 " But you knew, Count, that we were expecting 
 you." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind. All I knew was his mes- 
 sage, ' Come here.' I had no anticipation of such 
 pleasant quarters as you promise me." 
 
 Seated in the post of honour on the right of Sir 
 Arthur, the Major, by way of completing the meas- 
 ure of his enjoyments, asked leave to smoke. The 
 permission was courteously accorded, and away 
 they rolled over the smooth highway to the plea- 
 sant measure of that stirring music — the trot of 
 four spanking horses. 
 
 Two — three — four efforts did Sir Arthur make 
 at conversation, but they all ended in sad failure. 
 He wanted to say something about the crops, but 
 he did not remember the French for " oats ; " he 
 wished to speak of the road, but he knew not the 
 phrase for Grand Jury ; he desired to make some 
 apology for a backward season, but he might as 
 well have attempted to write a Greek ode, and so 
 he sat and smiled and waved his hand, pointing out 
 objects of interest, and interjectionally jerking out, 
 " Bons — braves — tr^s braves — but poor — pauvres —
 
 158 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 tres pauvres — light soil — ^l^g^re, you understand," 
 and with a vigorous hem, satisfied himself that he 
 had said something intelligible. After this no 
 more attempts at conversation were made, for the 
 Major had quietly set his companion down for an 
 intense bore, and fell back upon his tobacco for 
 solace. 
 
 " L^ !" cried the Baronet, after a long silence — 
 and he pointed with his finger to a tall tower, over 
 which a large flag was waving, about half a mile 
 away — "lA! Notre chateau — Lyle Abbey — moi;" 
 and he tapped his breast to indicate the personal 
 interest that attached to the spot. 
 
 " Je vous en fais mes compliments," cried M'Cas- 
 key, who chuckled at the idea of such quarters, and 
 very eloquently went on to express the infinite de- 
 light it gave him to cultivate relations with a family 
 at once so amiable and so distinguished. The 
 happy hazard which brought him was in reality 
 another tie that bound him to the friendship of that 
 "cher Maitland." Delivered of this, the Major 
 emptied his pipe, replaced it in its case, and then, 
 taking off his hat, ran his hands through his hair, 
 arranged his shirt-collar, and made two or three 
 other efforts at an improvised toilette. 
 
 "We are late — en retard — I think," said Sir
 
 TONY BUTLER. 159 
 
 Artlmr, as they drew up at the door, where two 
 sprucely-dressed servants stood to receive them. 
 "We dine — at eight — eight," said he, pointing to 
 that figure on his watch. " You'll have only time 
 to dress — dress ; " and he touched the lappet of his 
 coat, for he was fairly driven to pantomime to ex- 
 press himself " Hailes," cried he to a servant 
 in discreet black, " show the Count to his room, 
 and attend to him ; his own man has not come on, 
 it seems." And then, with many bows, and smiles, 
 and courteous gestures, consigned his distinguished 
 guest to the care of Mr Hailes, and walked hur- 
 riedly up-stairs to his o^vn room. 
 
 " Such a day as I have had," cried he, as he en- 
 tered the dressing-room, where Lady Lyle was 
 seated with a French novel. " Those fellows at the 
 Bank, led on by that creature M'Candlish, had the 
 insolence to move an amendment to that motion of 
 mine about the drainage loan. I almost thought 
 they'd have given me a fit of apoplexy; but I 
 crushed them : and I told Boyd, * If I see any more 
 of this, I don't care from what quarter it comes — if 
 these insolences be repeated — I'll resign the direc- 
 tion. It's no use making excuses, pleading that 
 you misunderstood this or mistook that, Boyd,* said 
 I. ' If it occurs again, I go.' And then, as if this
 
 160 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 was not enough, I've had to talk French all the 
 way out. By the way, where's Maitland ?" 
 
 " Talk French ! what do you mean by that ?" 
 
 "Where's Maitland, I say?" 
 
 " He's gone off with Mark to Larne. They said 
 they'd not be back to dinner." 
 
 " Here's more of it ; we shall have this foreign 
 fellow on our hands till he comes — this Italian 
 Count. I found him at M'Grotty's, and brought 
 him back with me." 
 
 "And what is he like? is he as captivating as 
 his portrait bespeaks ?" 
 
 " He is, to my mind, as vulgar a dog as ever I 
 met : he smoked beside me all the road, though he 
 saw how his vile tobacco set me a-coughing ; and 
 he stretched his legs over the front seat of the car- 
 riage, where, I promise you, his boots have left their 
 impress on the silk lining ; and he poked liis cane 
 at Crattle's wig, and made some impertinent re- 
 mark which I couldn't catch. I never was very en- 
 thusiastic about foreigners, and the present speci- 
 men has not made a convert of me." 
 
 " Maitland likes him," said she, languidly. 
 
 " WeU, then, it is an excellent reason not to like 
 Maitland. There's the second beU already. By the 
 way, this Count, I suppose, takes you in to dinner ? "
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 161 
 
 "I suppose SO, and it is very unpleasant, for I 
 am out of the liabit of talking Frencli. I'll make 
 Alice sit on tlie other side of him and entertain 
 him." 
 
 The news that the distinguished Italian friend of 
 Mr Norman Maitland had arrived, created a sort of 
 sensation in the house, and as the guests dropped 
 into the drawing-room before dinner there was no 
 other topic than the Count. The door at last 
 opened for his entree; and he came in unannounced, 
 the servant being probably unable to catch the 
 name he gave. In the absence of her father and 
 mother, Mrs Trafford did the honours, and received 
 him most courteously, presenting the other guests 
 to him, or him to them, as it might be. When it 
 came to the turn of the Commodore, he started, and 
 muttered, " Eh, very like, the born image of him ! " 
 and colouring deeply at his own awkwardness, 
 mumbled out a few unmeaning commonplaces. As 
 for the Major, he eyed him with one of his steadiest 
 stares — unflinching, unblenching ; and even said to 
 Mrs TrafFord in a whisper, " I didn't catch the 
 name ; was it Green you said ? " Seated between 
 Lady Lyle and Mrs Trafford, M'Caskey felt that he 
 was the honoured guest of the evening : Maitland's 
 absence, so feelingly deplored by the others, gave 
 
 VOL. I. , L
 
 162 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 him little regret; indeed, instinct told Mm that 
 they were not men to like each other, and he 
 was all the happier that he had the field for a 
 while his own. It was not a very easy task to be 
 the pleasant man of an Irish country-house, in a 
 foreign tongue; but, if any man could have suc- 
 cess, it was M'Caskey. The incessant play of his 
 features, the varied tones of his voice, his extra- 
 ordinary gestures, appealed to those who could not 
 follow his words, and led them very often to join in 
 the laughter which his sallies provoked from others. 
 He was, it is true, the exact opposite to aU they 
 had been led to expect — he was neither well-look- 
 ing, nor distinguished, nor conciliatory in manner — 
 there was not a trace of that insinuating softness 
 and gentleness Maitland had spoken of — he was, 
 even to those who could not follow his speech, one 
 of the most coolly unabashed fellows they had ever 
 met, and made himself at home with a readiness 
 that said much more for his boldness than for his 
 breeding ; and yet, withal, each was pleased in turn 
 to see how he out-talked some heretofore t}Tant 
 of conversation, how impudently he interrupted a 
 bore, and how mercilessly he pursued an antag- 
 onist whom he had vanquished. It is not at all 
 improbable, too, that he owed something of his
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 163 
 
 success to that unconquerable objection people feel 
 at confessing that they do not understand a foreign 
 language — the more when that language is such a 
 cognate one as French. What a deal of ecstasy 
 does not the polite world expend upon German 
 drama and Italian tragedy, and how frequently are 
 people moved to every imaginable emotion, without 
 the slightest clue to the intention of the charmer ! 
 If he was great at the dinner-table, he was greater 
 in the drawing-room. Scarcely was coffee served 
 than he was twanking away with a guitar, and 
 singing a Spanish muleteer song, with a jingling 
 imitation of bells for the accompaniment ; or seated 
 at the piano he carolled out a French canzonette 
 descriptive of soldier life, far more picturesque than 
 it was proper ; and all this time there was the old 
 Commodore cruising above and below him, eyeing 
 and watcliing him — growing perfectly feverish with 
 the anxiety of his doubts, and yet unable to confirm 
 or refute them. It was a suspicious craft ; he felt 
 that he had seen it before, and knew the rig weU, 
 and yet he was afraid to board and say, " Let me 
 look at your papers." 
 
 " I say, Beck, just go slyly up and say somethiDg, 
 accidentally, about Barbadoes ; don't ask any ques- 
 tions, but remark that the evening is close, or the
 
 164 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 sky threatening, or the air oppressive, just as it 
 used to be before a tornado there." The old sailor 
 watched her, as, he might have watched a boat 
 party on a cutting-out expedition ; he saw her 
 draw nigh the piano ; he thought he could trace all 
 the ingenious steps by which she neared her object; 
 and he was convinced that she had at last thrown 
 the shell on board him ; but what was his grievous 
 disappointment, as he saw that the little fellow had 
 turned to her with a look of warmest admiration, 
 and actually addressed a very ardent love-song to 
 the eyes that were then bent upon him. The Com- 
 modore made signals to cease firing and fall back, 
 but in vain. She was too deeply engaged to think 
 of orders ; and there she stood to be admired, and 
 worshipped, and adored, in all the moods and tenses 
 of a French " romance." But Miss Rebecca Graham 
 was not the only victun of the Major's captivations ; 
 gradually the whole company of the drawing-room 
 had gathered round the piano, some to wonder, 
 some to laugh at, some to feel amused by, and not 
 a few to feel angry with, that little iiery-eyed im- 
 pertinent-looking fellow, who eyed the ladies so 
 languishingly, and stared at the men as if asking, 
 "Who'll quarrel with me?" You miglit not like, 
 but it was impossible to ignore him. There was.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 165 
 
 too, in his whole air and bearing a conscious sense 
 of power — a sort of bold self-reliance — that dignifies 
 even impudence ; and as he sat in his chair with 
 head up and hands vigorously striking the chords 
 of the piano, he looked, as it is by no means impro- 
 bable that he felt, "M'Caskey against the field." 
 It was in the midst of hearty applause at a song he 
 had just completed, that Maitland entered the room. 
 In the hall he had learned from the servants that 
 his foreign friend had arrived, and he hurried for- 
 ward to greet him. Eather puzzled at the vocif- 
 erous gaiety of the company, he made his way 
 through the crowd and approached the piano, and 
 then stood, staring on every side, to find out his 
 friend. Though he saw the Major, his eye only 
 rested passingly on him, as it ranged eagerly to 
 catch the features of another. 
 
 " He's very amusing, though not in the least 
 what you led us to expect," whispered Mrs Trafibrd. 
 "Who is it of whom you are speaking?" 
 " Your friend yonder, the Count Caffarelli." 
 ''What — that man?" cried Maitland, as he grew 
 pale with passion; and now pushing forward, he 
 leaned over the back of the music-stool, and whis- 
 pered, "Who are you that call yourself Count 
 Cafi"arelli?"
 
 166 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 "Is jour name Maitland?" said the other, with 
 perfect coolness. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " IMine is M'Caskey, sir." 
 
 "And by what XDresnmption do I find yon here ?" 
 
 " This is not the place nor the moment for expla- 
 nations ; hut if you want or prefer exposures, don't 
 baulk your fancy ; I'm as ready as you are." 
 
 Maitland reeled back as if from a blow, and 
 looked positively ill.; and then laughingly turning 
 to the company, he said some commonplace words 
 about his ill luck in being late to hear the last 
 song. 
 
 " Well, it must be the last for to-night," said 
 'Mi M'Caskey, rising. " I have really imposed too 
 much upon every one's forbearance." 
 
 After a little of the usual skirmishing — the 
 entreaties and the coy refusals — the recollection 
 of that charming thing you sang for us at Wood- 
 park — and the doubts lest they had brought no 
 music with them — the INIisses Graham sat down 
 to one of those duets which ever}- one in England 
 seems able to compose and to sing; lackadaisical 
 ditties adapted to the humblest musical proficiency, 
 and unfortunately, too, the yevy narrowest intelli- 
 gences. Wliile the remainder of the company, after
 
 TONY BUTLER. 167 
 
 a brief moment of silence, resumed conversation, 
 Major M'Caskey stepped unobserved from the room 
 — by all, at least, but by Maitland, who speedily 
 followed him, and, led by the sound of his foot- 
 steps along the conidor, tracked him through the 
 great hall. M'Caskey was standing on the lawn, 
 and in the act of lighting his cigar, as Maitland 
 came up. 
 
 " Explain this intrusion here, sir, now, if you can," 
 cried Maitland, as he walked straight towards him. 
 
 " If you want any explanations from me, you'll 
 have to ask for them more suitably," said the other, 
 coldly. 
 
 " I desire to know, under what pretence you as- 
 sume a name and rank you have no right to, to 
 obtain admission to this house ? " • 
 
 " Your question is easily answered : your instruc- 
 tions to me were, on my arrival at Coleraine, to give 
 myself out for a foreigner, and not to speak English 
 with any one. I have your note in my desk, and 
 think there can be no mistake about its meaning." 
 
 " AVell, well; 1 know all that ; go on," cried Mait- 
 land, impatiently. 
 
 M'Caskey smiled, lialf-insolently, at this show of 
 temper, and continued : " It was, then, in my as- 
 sumed character of Frenchman, Spaniard, Italian, or
 
 168 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 whatever you wisli — for they are pretty much alike 
 to me — I was standing at the door of the inn, when 
 a rather pompous old fellow with two footmen after 
 him came up, and, in some execrable French, en- 
 deavoured to accost me, mingling your name in his 
 jargon, and inviting me, as well as his language 
 Avould permit, to return with him ^to his house. 
 What was I to conclude but that the arrangement 
 was yours ? indeed, I never gave a doubt to it." 
 
 " When he addressed you as the Count Caffarelli, 
 you might have had such a doubt,'' said Maitland, 
 sneeringly. 
 
 " He called me simply Count," was the reply. 
 
 " Well ; so far well : there was no assumption of 
 a name, at least." 
 
 " None whatever ; and if there had been, would 
 the offence have seemed to you so very — very un- 
 pardonable ? " It is not easy to convey the intense 
 impertinence given to the delivery of this speech by 
 the graduated slowness of every word, and the inso- 
 lent composure with which it was spoken. 
 
 " What do you mean, sir, by this — this insinua- 
 tion ? " cried Maitland. 
 
 " Insinuation ! — it's none. It is a mere question 
 as to a matter of good taste or good morals." 
 
 " I have no time for such discussions, sir," said
 
 TONY BUTLER. 169 
 
 Maitland, hotly. " I am glad to find that the blun- 
 der by which you came here was not of your own 
 provoking, though I cannot see how it makes the 
 explanation less difficult to myself." 
 
 "What is your difficulty, may I ask?" cried 
 M'Caskey, coolly. 
 
 " Is it no difficulty that I must explain how I 
 
 know " and he stopped suddenly, just as a man 
 
 might stop on the verge of a precipice, and look 
 horror-struck down into the depth below him. " I 
 mean," said he, recovering himself, " that to enter 
 upon the question of our relations to each other 
 would open the discussion of matters essentially 
 secret. When I have said I know you, the next 
 question will be, ' Who is he ? ' " 
 
 " Well, what is the difficulty there ? I am Graf 
 M'Caskey, in Bavaria; Count of Serra- major, in 
 Sicily ; Commander of the Order of St Peter and St 
 Paul, and a Knight of Malta. I mention these, for 
 I have the ' brevets ' with me." 
 
 "Very true," said Maitland; "but you are also 
 the same Lieutenant Miles M'Caskey who served in 
 the 2d West Indian Regiment, and who left a few 
 unsettled matters between him and the government 
 there, when he quitted Barbadoes." 
 
 " And which they won't rake up, I promise you,
 
 170 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 if they don't want to hang an ex-governor," said he, 
 laughing. "But none of us, Mr Maitland, will stand 
 such investigations as these. There's a statute of 
 limitations for morals as well as for small debts." 
 
 Maitland winced under the insolent look of the 
 other, and, in a tone somewhat shaken, continued : 
 " At all events, it wiU not suit me to open these 
 inquiries. The only piece of good-fortune in the 
 whole is, that there was none here who knew 
 you." 
 
 " I am not so very sure of that, though," said the 
 Major, with a quiet laugh. 
 
 " How so ? what do you mean ? " 
 "Why, that there is an old fellow whom I re- 
 member to have met on the West Indian station ; 
 he was a lieutenant, I think, on board the Dwarf, 
 and he looked as if he were puzzled about me." 
 " Gambler Graham?" 
 
 " That's the man ; he followed me about all night, 
 till some one carried him off to play cribbage ; but 
 he'd leave his game every now and then to come 
 and stare at me, till I gave him a look that said, If 
 you do that again, we'll have a talk over it in the 
 morning." 
 
 " To prevent which you must leave tliis to-night, 
 sir," said Maitland. " I am not in the habit of car-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 171 
 
 lying followers about with me to the country-houses 
 where I visit." 
 
 A very prolonged whistle was M'Caskey's first 
 reply to this speech, and then he said, " They told 
 me you were one of the cleverest fellows in Europe, 
 but I don't believe a word of it ; for if you were, you 
 would never try to play the game of bully with a 
 man of my stamp. Bigger men than Mr Norman 
 Maitland have tried that, and didn't come so well 
 out of it ! " 
 
 An insolent toss of the head, as he threw away 
 his cigar, was all Maitland's answer. At last he 
 said, " I suppose, sir, you cannot wish to drive me 
 to say that I do not know you ? " 
 
 " It would be awkward, certainly ; for then I'd be 
 obliged to declare that I do know you." 
 
 Instantly Maitland seized the other's arm ; but 
 M'Caskey, though not by any means so strong a 
 man, flung off the grasp, and started back, saying, 
 " Hands off, or 111 put a bullet through you. We've 
 both of us lived long enough amongst foreigners to 
 know that these are liberties that cost blood." 
 
 " This is very siUy and very unprofitable," said 
 Maitland, with a ghastly attempt at a smile. " Tliere 
 ought not, there cannot be, any quarrel between 
 you and me. Though it is no fault of yours that
 
 172 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 this blunder has occurred, the mistake has its un- 
 pleasant side, and may lead to some embarrassment, 
 the more as this old sea-captain is sure to remember 
 you if you meet again. There's only one thing for 
 it, therefore — get away as fast as you can. I'll sup- 
 ply the pretext, and show Sir Arthur in confidence 
 how the whole affair occurred." 
 
 M'Caskey shook his head dubiously. " This is 
 not to my liking, sir ; it smacks of a very ignomin- 
 ious mode of retreat. I am to leave myself to be 
 discussed by a number of perhaps not over-favour- 
 able critics, and defended by one who even shrinks 
 from saying he knows me. No, no ; I can't do this." 
 
 '' But, remember you are not the person to whom 
 these people meant to offer their hospitality." 
 
 "I am Major Miles M'Caskey," said he, drawing 
 himself up to the full height of his five feet foui' 
 inches ; " and there is no mistake whatever in any 
 consideration that is shown to the man who owns 
 that name." 
 
 "Yes, but why are you here — how have you come?'* 
 
 " I came by the host's invitation, and I look to 
 you to explain how the blunder occurred, and to 
 recognise me afterwards. That is what I expect, 
 and what I insist on." 
 
 " And if your old friend the Commodore, whose
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 173 
 
 memory for ugly anecdotes seems inexhaustible, 
 comes out with any unpleasant reminiscences of 
 West Indian life " 
 
 " Leave that to me, Mr Norman Maitland. I'll 
 take care to see my friend, as you call him, and I'll 
 offer you a trifling wager he'll not be a whit more 
 anxious to claim my acquaintance than you are/' 
 
 " You appear to have no small reliance on your 
 powers of intimidation, Major," said Maitland, with 
 a sneering smile. 
 
 " They have never failed me, for I have always 
 backed them with a very steady hand and a correct 
 eye, both of which are much at your service." 
 
 Maitland lifted his hat, and bowed an acknow- 
 ledgment. 
 
 " I think we are losing our time, each of us. Major 
 M'Caskey. There need be no question of etiquette 
 here. You are, if I understand the matter aright, 
 under my orders. Well, sir, these orders are, that 
 you now start for Castle Durrow, and be prepared 
 by Tuesday next to make me a full report of your 
 proceedings, and produce for me, if necessary, the 
 men you have engaged." 
 
 The change effected in the Major's manner at 
 these words was magical ; he touched his hat in 
 salute, and listened with all show of respect.
 
 174 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " It is my intention, if satisfied with your report, 
 to recommend you for the command of the legion, 
 with the rank of Lieutenant - Colonel," continued 
 Maitland ; " and I have already written about those 
 advances you mentioned." 
 
 "I'll take care that you are satisfied with me," 
 said M'Caskey, respectfully ; " I'll start within half 
 an hour." 
 
 " This is all as it should be. I hope it is our first 
 and last misunderstanding;" and he held out his 
 hand frankly, which the other grasped and shook 
 cordially. " How are you off for ready cash ? Treat 
 me as a comrade, and say freely." 
 
 "Not over flush, but I suppose I can rub on," 
 said the Major, with some confusion. 
 
 " I have some thirty sovereigns here," said Mait- 
 land; " take them, and we'll settle all when we meet." 
 
 M'Caskey put the purse in his pocket, and, with 
 the uneasy consciousness of a man ashamed of what 
 he was doing, muttered out a few unmeaning words 
 of thanks, and said, " Good-bye ! " 
 
 " These condottieri rascals have been troublesome 
 fellows in all ages," said Maitland, as he smoked 
 away alone ; " and T suspect they are especially un- 
 suited to our present-day life and its habits. I 
 must rid myself of the Major."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 EXPLANATIONS. 
 
 By the time Maitland had despatched his man Fen- 
 ton to meet Count Caffarelli, and prevent his com- 
 ing to Lyle Abbey, where his presence would be 
 sure to occasion much embarrassment, the company 
 had retired to their rooms, and all was quiet. 
 
 Though Mark was curious to know why and how 
 Maitland had disappeared with his foreign friend, he 
 had grown tired thinking over it, and fallen sound 
 asleep. Nor did he hear Maitland as he entered 
 the room and drew nigh his bedside. 
 
 " What's wrong — what has happened ? " cried 
 Mark, as he started up suddenly on his bed. 
 
 " Nothing very serious, but still something worth 
 waking you for ; but are you sure you are awake ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, perfectly. What is it all about ? Who 
 are in it ? " 
 
 " We are all in it, for the matter of that," said
 
 176 TOXY BUTLEE. 
 
 Maitland, with a quiet laugli. " Try and listen to 
 me attentively for a couple of minutes. The man 
 your father brought hack with him from Coleraine, 
 believing him to be my friend Caffarelli, was not 
 Caffarelli at all!" 
 
 " T\Tiat ! And he pretended to be ? " 
 
 " No such thing ; hear me out. Your father 
 spoke to him in French ; and finding out — I don't 
 exactly know how — that he and I were acquaint- 
 ances, rushed at once to the conclusion that he must 
 be Caffarelli. I conclude that the interview was not 
 made more intelligible to either party by being car- 
 ried on in French; but the invitation so frankly 
 given was as freely accepted. The stranger came, 
 dined, and was here in the drawing-room when we 
 came back." 
 
 " This is unpardonable. Who is he ? What is 
 he?" 
 
 "He is a gentleman, I believe, as well born as 
 either of us. I know something — not much — about 
 him, but there are circumstances which, in a man- 
 ner, prevent me from talking of him. He came 
 down to this part of the world to see me, though I 
 never intended it should have been here." 
 
 " Then his intrusion here was not sanctioned by 
 you?"
 
 TONY BUTLER. 177 
 
 " No. It was all your father's doing." 
 
 " My father's doing, if you like, Maitland, but con- 
 curred in and abetted by this man, whoever he is." 
 
 " I'll not even say that ; he assures me that he 
 accepted the invitation in the belief that the ar- 
 rangement was made by me." 
 
 " And you accept that explanation ? " 
 
 "Of course I do. I see nothing in it in the 
 smallest degree improbable or unlikely." 
 
 " Well, who is he ? Tliat is the main point ; for 
 it is clear you do not wish us to receive liim as a 
 friend of yours." 
 
 " I say I'd not have presented him here, certainly; 
 but I'll not go the length of saying he couldn't have 
 been known by any one in this house. He is one 
 of those adventurous fellows whose lives must not 
 be read with the same glasses as those of quieter 
 people. He has knocked about the world for some 
 five-and-twenty years, without apparently having 
 found his corner in it yet. I wanted him — what 
 for, I shall probably tell you one of these days — 
 and some friends of mine found him out for me ! " 
 
 "One of your mysteries, Maitland," said Mark, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Yes, one of my mysteries ! " 
 
 " Of what nation is he?" 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " There, again, I must baulk your curiosity. The 
 fact is, Mark, I can explain nothing about this man 
 without going into matters which I am solemnly 
 bound not to reveal. What I have to ask from you 
 is, that you will explain to your father, and of course 
 to Lady Lyle and your sisters, the mistake that has 
 occurred, and request that they will keep it a secret. 
 He has already gone, so that your guests will pro- 
 bably not discuss him after a day or two." 
 
 " Not even so much, for there's a break-up. Old 
 Mrs Maxwell has suddenly discovered that her 
 birthday will fall on next Friday, and she insists 
 upon going back to Tilney Park to entertain the 
 tenantry, and give a ball to the servants. Most of 
 the people here accompany her, and Isabella and 
 myself are obliged to go. Each of us expects to be 
 her heir, and w^e have to keep out competitors at all 
 hazards." 
 
 " Why has she never thought of me ? " said Mait- 
 land. 
 
 " She means to invite you, at all events ; for I 
 heard her consulting my mother how so formidable 
 a personage should be approached — whether she 
 ought to address you in a despatch, or ask for a 
 conference." 
 
 " If a choice be given me, I'll stay where I am.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 179 
 
 The three days I promised you have grown nearer 
 to three weeks, and I do not see the remotest chance 
 of your getting rid of me." 
 
 " Will you promise me to stay till I tell you we 
 want your rooms ? " 
 
 "Ah, my dear fellow, you don't know — you 
 couldn't know — what very tempting words you are 
 uttering. This is such a charming, charming spot, 
 to compose that novel I am — not — writing — that I 
 never mean to leave till I have finished it; but, 
 seriously speaking, like an old friend, am I a bore 
 here ? am I occupying the place that is wanted for 
 another ? are they tired of me ? " 
 
 Mark overwhelmed his friend with assurances 
 very honest in the main, that they were only too 
 happy to possess liim as their guest, and felt no 
 common pride in the fact that he could find his life 
 there endurable. " I will own now," says he, " that 
 there w^as a considerable awe of you felt before you 
 came, but you have lived down the fear, and become 
 a positive favourite." 
 
 " But who could have given such a version of me 
 as to inspire this?" 
 
 " I am afraid I was the culprit," said Mark ; " I 
 was rather boastful about knowing you at all, and I 
 suppose I frightened them."
 
 180 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 " My dear Lyle, what a narrow escape I had of 
 being positively odious ! and I now see with what 
 consummate courtesy my caprices have been treated, 
 when really I never so much as suspected they had 
 been noticed." There was a touch of sincerity in 
 his accent as he spoke, that vouched for the honesty 
 of his meaning ; and Mark, as he looked at him, 
 muttered to himself, '' This is the man they call an 
 egotist, and who is only intent on taking his turn 
 out of all around him." 
 
 " I think I must let you go to sleep again, Mark," 
 said Maitland, rising. " I am a wretched sleeper my- 
 self, and quite forget that there are happy fellows 
 who can take their ten hours of oblivion without 
 any help from the druggist. Without this," — and 
 he drew a small phial from his waistcoat-pocket, — 
 " I get no rest." 
 
 "What a bad habit!" 
 
 " Isn't almost everything we do a bad habit ? 
 Have we ever a humour that recurs to us, that is 
 not a bad habit ? Are not the simple things which 
 mean nothing in themselves, an evil influence when 
 they grow into requirements and make slaves of us ? 
 I suppose it was a bad habit that made me a bad 
 sleeper, and I turn to another bad habit to correct 
 it. The only things which are positively bad habits
 
 TONY BUTLER. 181 
 
 are those that require an effort to sustain, or will 
 break down under us without we struggle to support 
 them. To be morose is not one jot a worse habit 
 than to be agreeable ; for the time will come when 
 you are indisposed to be pleasant, and the company 
 in which you find yourself are certain to deem the 
 humour as an offence to themselves ; but there is a 
 worse habit than this, which is to go on talking to 
 a man whose eyes are closing with sleep. Good- 
 night." 
 
 Maitland said no more than the truth when he 
 declared how happy he found himself in that quiet 
 unmolested existence which he led at Lyle Abbey. 
 To be free in every way — to indulge his humour to 
 be alone or in company — to go and come as he 
 liked, were great boons; but they were even less 
 than the enjoynient he felt in living amongst total 
 strangers — persons who had never known, never 
 heard of him — for whom he was not called on to 
 make any effort, or support any character. No man 
 ever felt more acutely the slavery tliat comes of 
 sustaining a part before the world, and being as 
 strange and as inexplicable as people required he 
 should be. While a very young man, it amused 
 him to trifle in this fashion, and to set absurd 
 modes afloat for imitation ; and he took a certain
 
 182 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 spiteful pleasure in seeing what a host of followers 
 mere eccentricity could command. As he grew 
 older he wearied of this, and, to be free of it, wan- 
 dered away to distant and unvisited countries, trying 
 the old and barren experiment whether new sensa- 
 tions might not make a new nature. " Coslum non 
 animum mutant," says the adage, and he came back 
 pretty much as he went, with this only difference, 
 that he now cared only for quietness and repose. 
 Not the contemplative repose of one who sought to 
 reflect without disturbance, so much as the peaceful 
 isolation that suited indolence. He fancied how he 
 would have liked to be the son of that house, and 
 dream away life in that wild secluded spot ; but, 
 after all, the thought was like the epicure's notion 
 of how contented he could be with a meal of 
 potatoes I 
 
 As the day broke, he was roused from his light 
 sleep by the tumult and noise of the departing 
 guests. He arose and watched them through the 
 half-closed jalousies. It was picturesque enough, 
 in that crisp, fresh, frosty air, to see the groups 
 as they gathered on the long terrace before the 
 door ; while equipages the most varied drew up — 
 here a family-coach with long-tailed "blacks;" there 
 a smart britschka, with spanking greys ; a tandem
 
 TONY BUTLER. 183 
 
 too, there was for Mark's special handling ; and 
 conspicuous by its pile of luggage in the "well," 
 stood Gambier Graham's outside jaunting-car — a 
 large basket of vegetables and fruit, and a hamper 
 of lobsters, showing how such guests are propitiated, 
 even in the hours of leave-taking. 
 
 Maitland watched Isabella in all her little atten- 
 tive cares to Mrs Maxwell, and saw, as he thought, 
 the heir-expectant in every movement. He fancied 
 that the shawl she carried on her arm was the old 
 lady's, and was almost vexed when he saw her wrap 
 it aroimd her own shoulders. " AVell, that at least 
 is sycophancy," muttered he, as he saw her clutch 
 up a little white Maltese terrier and kiss it ; but 
 alas for his prescience ! the next moment she had 
 given the dog to a servant to carry back into the 
 house, and so it was her own that she was part- 
 ing from, and not Mrs Maxwell's that she was 
 caressing ! 
 
 It is strange to say that he was vexed at being 
 disappointed. She was very pretty, very well-man- 
 nered, and veiy pleasing ; but he longed to find that 
 all the charm and grace about her were conven- 
 tional ; he wished to believe that " the whole tiling," 
 as he called life, was a mere trick, where all cheated 
 in proportion to their capacities. Mark had been
 
 184 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 honest enough to own that they were fortune-hunt- 
 ing, and Isabella certainly could not be ignorant of 
 the stake she played for. 
 
 One by one the carriages drew up and moved 
 away, and now Gambler Graham's car stood before 
 the door, alone ; for the crowd of footmen who had 
 thronged to press their services on the others, gradu- 
 ally melted away, hopeless of exacting a black-mail 
 from the old Commodore. While Maitland stood 
 watching the driver, who, in a composite sort of 
 costume rather more gardener than coachman, 
 amused himself flicking with his whip imaginary 
 flies off the old mare's neck and withers, a smart 
 tap came to the door, while a hasty voice called out, 
 " May I come in ? " 
 
 " Let me first hear who you are ? " said Maitland. 
 
 " Commodore Graham," was the answer. 
 
 In a moment it flashed across Maitland that the 
 old sailor had come to reveal his discovery of 
 M'Caskey. Just as quickly did he decide that it 
 was better to admit him, and, if possible, contrive to 
 make the story seem a secret between themselves. 
 
 " Come in, by all means — the very man I wanted 
 to see," said Maitland, as he opened the door, and 
 gave him a cordial shake-hands. "I was afraid you 
 were going without seeing me, Commodore; and.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 185 
 
 early as it was, I got up and was dressing in liope to 
 catch you." 
 
 "That I call hearty — downright hearty — Mait- 
 land." 
 
 Maitland actually started at this familiar men- 
 tion of him by one whom he had never met till a 
 few days before. 
 
 " Eather a rare event in your life to be up at this 
 hour. I'll be sworn — except when you haven't been 
 to bed, eh ! " And he laughed heartily at what he 
 fancied was a most witty conceit. " You see we're 
 all off! We've had springs on our cables these last 
 twenty-four hours, with this frolicsome old woman, 
 who would insist on being back for her birthday; 
 but she's rich, Maitland — immensely rich, and we 
 all worship her ! " 
 
 Maitland gave a faint shrug of the shoulders, as 
 though he deplored the degeneracy, but couldn't 
 help it. 
 
 " Yes, yes — I'm coming," cried the Commodore, 
 shouting from the open window to his daugliters 
 beneath. " The girls are impatient, they want to 
 be at Lesliesford when the others are crossing. 
 There's a fresh on the river, and it's better to get 
 some stout fellows to guide the carriages through 
 the water. I wanted greatly to have five minutes
 
 186 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 alone with you — five would do — half of it perhaps 
 between men of the world, as we are. You know 
 about what." 
 
 " I suspect I do," said Maitland, quietly. 
 
 " I saw, too," resumed Graham, " that you wished 
 to have no talk about it here, amongst all these 
 gossiping people. "Wasn't I right?" 
 
 " Perfectly right; you appreciated me thorouglily." 
 
 " TMiat I said was this, — Maitland knows the 
 world well. He'll wait till he has his opportunity 
 of talking the matter over wdth myself He'll say, 
 ' Graham and I will understand one another at once.' 
 One minute, only one," screamed he out from the 
 window. " Couldn't you come down and just say a 
 word or two to them ? They'd like it so much." 
 
 Maitland muttered something about his costume. 
 
 " Ah ! there it is. You fellows will never be 
 seen till you are in full fig. Well, I must be off. 
 Now, then, to finish what we Ve been sapng. 
 You'll come over next week to Port-Graham — 
 that's my little place, though . there's no port, nor 
 anything like a port, within ten miles of it — and 
 we'll arrange everytliing. If I'm an old fellow, 
 Maitland, I don't forget that I was once a young 
 one — mind that, my boy." And the Commodore 
 had to wipe his eyes, with the laughter at his drol-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 187 
 
 lery. " Yes ; here I am/' cried lie again ; and then 
 turning to Maitland, shook liis hand in botli his 
 own, repeating, " On Wednesday — Wednesday to 
 dinner — not later than five, remember" — he has- 
 tened down the stairs, and scrambled up on the car 
 beside his eldest daughter, who, apparently, had 
 already opened a "flood-gate of attack on him for his 
 delay. 
 
 " Insupportable old bore," muttered Maitland, as 
 he waved his hand from the window, and smiled 
 his blandest salutations to the retreating party. 
 " AMiat a tiresome old fool to fancy that I am going 
 over to Graham-pond, or port, or whatever it is, to 
 talk over an incident that I desire to have forgot- 
 ten ! Besides, when once I have left this neigh- 
 bourhood, he may discuss M'Caskey every day after 
 his dinner — he may write his life, for anything I 
 care." 
 
 With this parting reflection he went down to the 
 garden, strolling listlessly along the dew-spangled 
 alleys, and carelessly tossing aside with his cane the 
 apple-blossoms, which lay thick as snow-flakes on 
 the walks. While thus lounging, he came suddenly 
 upon Sir Arthur, as, hoe in hand, he imagined him- 
 self doing something useful. 
 
 " Oh, by the way, Mr Maitland," cried he, " Mark
 
 188 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 has just told me of the stupid mistake I made. 
 Will you be generous enough to forgive me?" 
 
 " It is from me, sir, that the apologies must 
 come," began Maitland. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind, my dear Mr Maitland. 
 You will overwhelm me with shame if you say so. 
 Let us each forget the incident ; and believe me, I 
 shall feel myself your debtor by the act of oblivion." 
 He shook Maitland's hand warmly, and, in an easier 
 tone, added, " What good news I have heard ! You 
 are not tired of us — not going ! " 
 
 " I cannot — I told Mark this morning — I don't 
 believe there is a road out of this." 
 
 " Well, wait here till I tell you it is fit for tra- 
 velling," said Sir Arthur, pleasantly, and addressed 
 himself once more to his labours as a gardener. 
 
 Meanwhile Maitland threw himself down on a gar- 
 den-bench, and cried aloud, " This is the real thing, 
 after all — this is actual repose. Not a word of politi- 
 cal intrigue, no snares, no tricks, no deceptions, and no 
 defeats ; no waking to hear of our friends arrested, 
 and our private letters in the hands of a Police Pre- 
 fect. No horrid memories of the night before, and 
 that run of ill luck that has left us almost beggars. 
 I wonder how long the charm of this tranquillity 
 would endure, or is it lilvc all other anodynes, which
 
 TONY BUTLER. 189 
 
 lose their calming power by habit? I'd certainly 
 like to try." 
 
 "Well, there is no reason why you shouldn't/' 
 said a voice from the back of the summer-house, 
 which he knew to be Mrs Trafford's. He jumped 
 up to overtake her, but she was gone.
 
 CHAPTEE XIL 
 
 MAITLAND S VISIT. 
 
 "What was it you were saying about flowers, 
 Jeanie? I was not minding/' said Mrs Butler, as 
 she sat at her window watching the long heaving 
 roll of the sea, as it broke along the jagged and 
 rugged shore, her thoughts the while far bej^ond it. 
 
 " I was saying, ma'am, that the same man that 
 came with the books t'other day brought these 
 roses, and asked very kindly how you were." 
 
 " You mean the same gentleman, lassie, who left 
 his card here?" said the old lady, correcting that 
 very northern habit of ignoring all differences of 
 condition. 
 
 ''Well, I mind he was, for he had very white 
 hands, and a big bright ring on one of his fingers." 
 
 " You told him how sorry I was not to be able 
 to see him — that these bad headaches have left me 
 unable to receive any one ?"
 
 TONY BUTLER. 191 
 
 " Na ! I didn't say that," said she, half-doggedly. 
 
 " Well, and what did you say?" 
 
 " I just said. She's thinkin' too much about her 
 son, who is away from home, to find any pleasure in 
 a strange face. He laughed a little quiet laugh, 
 and said, ' There is good sense in that, Jeanie, and 
 I'll wait for a better moment.' " 
 
 " You should have given my message as I spoke 
 it to you," said the mistress, severely. 
 
 " I'm no sae blind that I canna see the differ be- 
 tween an aching head and a heavy heart. Ye're 
 just frettin', and there's naething else the matter wi' 
 you. There he goes now, the same man — the same 
 gentleman, I mean," said she, with a faint scoff. 
 " He aye goes back by the strand, and climbs the 
 white rocks opposite the Skerries." 
 
 " Go and say that I'll be happy to have a visit 
 from him to-morrow, Jeanie ; and mind put nothing 
 of your own in it, lassie, but give my words as I 
 speak them." 
 
 With a toss of her head Jeanie left the room, and 
 soon after was seen skipping lightly from rock to 
 rock towards the beach beneath. To the old lady's 
 great surprise, however, Jeanie, instead of limiting 
 herself to the simple words of her message, ap- 
 peared to be talking away earnestly and fluently
 
 192 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 with the stranger; and, worse than all, she now 
 saw that he was coming back with her, and walk- 
 ing straight for the cottage. Mrs Butler had but 
 time to change her cap and smooth down the braids 
 of her snow-white hair, when the key turned in the 
 lock, and Jeanie ushered in Mr N'orman INIaitland. 
 Nothing could be more respectful or in better taste 
 than Maitland's approach. He blended the greatest 
 deference with an evident desire to make her ac- 
 quaintance, and almost at once relieved her from 
 what she so much dreaded — the first meeting mth 
 a stranger. 
 
 " Are you of the Clairlaverock Maitlands, sir 1 " 
 asked she, timidl}^ 
 
 " Very distantly, I believe, madam. We all claim 
 Sir Peter as the head of the family ; but my own 
 branch settled in India two generations back, and, I 
 shame to say, thought of everything but genealogy." 
 
 " There was a great beauty, a Miss Hester Mait- 
 land. When I was a girl she married a lord, I 
 think?" 
 
 "Yes, she married a Viscount Kinross, a sort 
 of cousin of her own ; though I am little versed 
 in family history. The truth is, madam, younger 
 sons who had to work their way in the world 
 were more anxious to bequeath habits of energy
 
 TONY BUTLER. 193 
 
 and activity to their children than ideas of blazons 
 and quarterings/' 
 
 The old lady sighed at this, but it was a sigh 
 of relief. She had been dreading not a little a 
 meeting with one of those haughty Maitlands, as- 
 sociated in her childhood's days with thoughts of 
 wealth and power, and that dominance that smacks 
 of, if it does not mean, insolence ; and now she 
 found one who was not ashamed to belong to a 
 father who had toiled for his support and worked 
 hard for his livelihood. And yet it was strange 
 with what tenacity she clung to a topic that had 
 its terrors for her. She liked to talk of the family 
 and high connections and great marriages of all 
 these people with whose names she was familiar 
 as a girl, but whom she had never known, if she 
 had so much as seen. 
 
 "My poor husband, sir — you may have heard 
 of him — Colonel Walter Butler, knew all these 
 things by heart. You had only to ask when did 
 so and so die, and who married such a one, and 
 he'd tell you as if out of a book." 
 
 "I have heard of Colonel Butler, madam. His 
 fame as a soldier is widespread in India — indeed, I 
 had hoped to have made his son's acquaintance when 
 I came here ; but I believe he is with his regiment." 
 
 VOL. L N
 
 194 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " No, sir, he's not in the service, " said she, 
 flushing. 
 
 " Ah ! a civilian, then. Well, madam, the Butlers 
 have shown capacity in all careers." 
 
 "My poor boy has not had the chance given 
 him as yet, Mr Maitland. We were too poor to 
 think of a profession ; and so waiting and hoping, 
 though it's not very clear for what, we let the time 
 slip over, and there he is a great grown man ! as 
 fine a young fellow as you ever looked on, and 
 as good as handsome, but yet he cannot do one 
 hand's turn that would give him bread — and yet, 
 ask your friends at the Abbey if there's a grace or 
 gift of a gentleman he is not the master of." 
 
 " I think I know how the Lyles speak of him, 
 and what affection they bear him." 
 
 "Many would condemn me, sir," cried she, 
 warming with the one theme that engaged her 
 whole heart, " for having thrown my boy amongst 
 those so far above him in foitune, and given him 
 habits and ways that his own condition must deny 
 him ; but it was my pride to see him in the station 
 that his father held, and to know that he became 
 it. I suppose there are dangers in it too," said 
 she, rather answering his grave look than anything 
 he had said. " I take it, sir, there are great temp-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 195 
 
 tations, mayhap over-strong temptations, for young 
 natures." 
 
 Maitland moved his head slightly, to imply that 
 he assented. 
 
 "And it's not unlikely the poor boy felt that 
 himself; for when he came home t'other night 
 he looked scared and worn, and answered me 
 shortly and abruptly in a way he never does, and 
 made me sit down on the spot and write a letter 
 for him to a great man who knew his father, 
 asking — it is hard to say what I asked, and what 
 I could have expected." 
 
 " Colonel Butler's son can scarcely want friends, 
 madam," said Maitland, courteously. 
 
 " What the world calls friends are usually rela- 
 tives, and we have but one who could pretend to 
 any sort of influence, and his treatment of my poor 
 husband debars us from all knowledge of him. 
 He was an only brother, a certain Sir Omerod 
 Butler. You may perhaps have heard of him ? " 
 
 " Formerly British Minister at Naples, I think ? " 
 
 " The same, sir : a person, they tell me, of great 
 abilities, but very eccentric and peculiar — indeed, 
 so his letters bespeak him." 
 
 " You have corresponded with him then, madam?" 
 
 " No, sir, never ; but he wrote constantly to
 
 196 TOXY BUTLER. 
 
 my husband before our marriage. Tliey were at 
 that time gi'eatly attached to each other ; and the 
 elder, Sir Omerod, was always planning and 
 plotting for his brother's advancement. He talked 
 of him as if he was his son, rather than a younger 
 brother ; in fact, there were eighteen years between 
 them. Our marriage broke up all this. The great 
 man was shocked at the humble connection, and 
 poor Walter would not bear to have me slightingly 
 spoken of; but dear me, Mr Maitland, how I am 
 nmning on ! To talk of such things to you ! I 
 am really ashamed of mysell What will you 
 think of me?" 
 
 " Only what I have learned to think of you, 
 madam, from all your neighbours — with sentiments 
 of deep respect and sincere interest." 
 
 "It is very good of you to say it, sir ; and I 
 wish Tony was back here to know you and tliank 
 you for all your attention to his mother." 
 
 " You are expecting him then ? " asked he. 
 
 "Well, sir, I am, and I am not. One letter is 
 full of hope and expectancy; by Thursday or 
 Friday he's to have some tidings about this or 
 that place ; and then comes another, saying, how 
 Sir Harry counsels him to go out and make friends 
 with his uncle. All mammon, sir — nothiuij but
 
 TONY BUTLER. 197 
 
 mammon ; just because this old man is very rich, 
 and never was married." 
 
 " I suspect you are in error there, madam. Sir 
 Omerod was married at least twenty years ago, 
 when I first heard of him at Naples." 
 
 She shook her head doubtfully, and said, " I 
 have always been told the reverse, sir. I know 
 what you allude to, but I have reason to believe 
 I am right, and there is no Lady Butler." 
 
 " It is curious enough, madam, that through a 
 chance acquaintance on a railroad train, I learned 
 all about the lady he married. She was an Italian." 
 
 " It's the same story I have heard myself, sir. 
 We only differ about the ending of it. She was a 
 stage-player, or a dancer." 
 
 " No, madam ; a very celebrated prima donna." 
 
 " Ay," said she, as though there was no discre- 
 pancy there. "I heard how the old fool — for he 
 was no young man then — got smitten with her 
 voice and her beauty, and made such a fuss about 
 her, taking her here and there in his state coach, 
 and giving great entertainments for her at the 
 Embassy, where the arms of England were over the 
 door ; and I have been told that the King heard 
 of it, and wrote to Sir Omerod a fearful letter, 
 asking how he dared so to degrade the escutcheon
 
 198 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 of the great nation he represented. Ah, you may 
 smile, sir." Maitland had indeed smiled alike at 
 her tale and the energy with which she told it. 
 " You may smile, sir ; but it was no matter for 
 laughter, I promise you. His Majesty called on 
 him to resign, and the great Sir Omerod, who 
 wouldn't know his own brother because he married 
 a minister's daughter, fell from his high station 
 for the sake of — I will not say any hard words; 
 but she was not certainly superior in station to 
 myself, and I will make no other comparison 
 between us/' 
 
 " I suspect you have been greatly misled about 
 all this, madam," said Maitland, with a quiet grave 
 manner. " Sir Omerod — I heard it from my tra- 
 velling companion — took his retiring pension and 
 quitted diplomacy the very day he was entitled 
 to it. So far from desiring him to leave, it is 
 said that the Minister of the day pressed him to 
 remain at his post. He has the reputation of 
 possessing no mean abilities, and certainly enjoyed 
 the confidence of the Court to which he was ac- 
 credited." 
 
 " I never heard so much good of him before ; 
 and to tell you the truth, Mr Maitland, if you had 
 warned me that you were his friend, I'd scarcely
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 199 
 
 have been so eager to make your acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " Eemember, my dear madam, all I have been 
 telling you reached myself as hearsay." 
 
 " Well, well," said she, sighing. " He's not over 
 likely to trouble his head about me, and I don't 
 see why I am to fash myself for him. Are you 
 minded to stay much longer in this neighbourhood, 
 Mr Maitland ? " said she, to change the topic. 
 
 " I fear not, madam. I have overstayed every- 
 thing here but the kindness of my hosts. I have 
 affairs which call me abroad, and some two or three 
 engagements, that I have run to the very last hour. 
 Indeed, I will confess to you, I delayed here to 
 meet your son." 
 
 "To meet Tony, sir?" 
 
 " Yes, madam. In my intercourse with the Lyles 
 I have learned to know a great deal about him ; to 
 liear traits of his fine generous nature, his manly 
 frankness, and his courage. These were the testi- 
 monies of witnesses who differed widely from each 
 other in age and temperament, and yet they all con- 
 curred in saying he was a noble-hearted young 
 fellow, who richly deserved all the fortune that 
 could befall him." 
 
 " Oh dear, sir, these are sweet words to his poor
 
 200 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 mother's ears. He is all tliat I have left me, and 
 you cannot know how he makes up to me for want 
 of station and means, and the fifty other things that 
 people who are well-off look for. I do hope he'll 
 come back before you leave this. I'd like to let 
 you see I'm not over boastful about him." 
 
 "I have had a project in my head for some days 
 back. Indeed, it was in pursuance of it I have been 
 so persevering in my attempts to see you, madam. 
 It occurred to me, from what Sir Arthur Lyle said 
 of your son, that he was just the person I have long 
 been looking out for — a man of good name and 
 good blood, fresh to the world, neither hackneyed, 
 on the one hand, nor awkwardly ignorant, on the 
 other — weU brought up and high-principled — a 
 gentleman, in fact. It has long been a plan of 
 mine to find one such as this, who, calling himself 
 my secretary, would be in reality my companion 
 and my friend — who would be content to share 
 the fortunes of a somewhat wayward fellow for a 
 year or two, till, using what little influence I 
 possess, I could find means of effectually establish- 
 ing him in life. Now, madam, I am very diffident 
 about making such a proposal to one in every 
 respect my equal, and, I have no doubt, more than 
 my equal in some things; but if he were not my
 
 TONY BUTLER. 201 
 
 equal, there would be an end to what I desire in 
 the project. In fact, to make the mere difference 
 of age the question of superiority between us, is my 
 plan. We should live together precisely on the 
 terms of equality. In return for that knowledge 
 of life I could impart to him — what I know of the 
 world, not acquired altogether without some sharp 
 experience — ^lie would repay me by that hearty and 
 genial freshness which is the wealth of the young. 
 Now, madam, I will not tire you with any more 
 of my speculations, purely selfish as they are \ but 
 will at once say, if, when your son and I meet, this 
 notion of mine is to his taste, aU the minor details 
 of it shall not deter him. I know I am not offer- 
 ing a career, but it is yet the first step that will fit 
 him for one. A young fellow, gifted as he is, will 
 needs become, in a couple of years' intercourse with 
 what is pre-eminently society, a man of consum- 
 mate tact and ability. AU that I know of Kfe con- 
 vinces me that the successful men are the ready- 
 witted men. Of course I intend to satisfy you 
 with respect to myself. You have a right to know 
 the stability of the bank to which you are intrust- 
 ing your deposit. At all events, think over my 
 plan, and if nothing has already fallen to your son's 
 hands in London, ask him to come back here and
 
 202 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 talk it over with me. I can remain here for a week 
 — ^that is, if I can hope to meet him." 
 
 Tlie old lady listened with all attention and 
 patience to this speech. She was pleased by the 
 flattery of it. It was flattery, indeed, to hear that 
 consummately fine gentleman declare that he was 
 ready to accept Tony as his equal in all things, and 
 it was more than flattery to fancy her dear boy 
 mingling in the pleasures and fascinations of the 
 great world, courted and admired, as she could 
 imagine he would be ; but there were still draw- 
 backs to all these. The position was that of a 
 dependant ; and how would Tony figure in such a 
 post ? He was the finest tempered, most generous 
 creature in the world, where no attempt to overbear 
 interfered ; but any show of offensive superiority 
 would make a tiger of hinu 
 
 Well, well, thought she, it's not to be rejected all 
 at once, and I'll just talk it over with the minister. 
 "May I consult an old friend and neighbour of 
 mine, sir, before I speak to Tony himself?" said 
 she, timidly. 
 
 "By' all means, madam; or, if you like it better, 
 let me call on him, and enter more fully into my 
 plan than I have ventured to do with you." 
 
 "No, thank you, sir. I'll just talk the matter
 
 TONY BUTLER. 203 
 
 over with the Doctor, and I'll see what he says to 
 it all. This seems a very ungracious way to meet 
 your great kindness, sir ; but I was thinking of 
 what a while ago you called my deposit, and so it 
 is — it's all the wealth I possess — and even the 
 thought of resigning it is more than I can bear." 
 
 "I hope to convince you one of these days, 
 madam, that you 'have not invested unprofitably ;" 
 and with many courteous assurances that, decide 
 how she might, his desire to serve her should 
 remain, he took his leave, bequeathing, as he passed 
 out, a glow of hope to the poor widow's heart, not 
 the less cheering that she could not freely justify 
 nor even define it.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TONY IN TOWN. 
 
 Day followed day, and Tony Butler heard nothing 
 from the minister. He went down each morning to 
 Downing Street, and interrogated the austere door- 
 keeper, till at length there grew up between that 
 grim ofi&cial and himself a state of feeling little 
 short of hatred. 
 
 " No letter ? " would say Tony. 
 
 " Look in the rack," was the answer. 
 
 " Is this sort of thing usual ? " 
 
 "Whatsort of thing?" 
 
 " The getting no reply for a week or eight days ? " 
 
 " I should say it is very usual with certain 
 people." 
 
 " What do you mean by certain people 1 " 
 
 " Well, the people that don't have answers to the 
 letters, nor ain't likely to have them." 
 
 " Might I ask you another question ? " said Tony,
 
 TONY BUTLER. 205 
 
 lowering his voice, and fixing a very quiet but 
 steady look on the other. 
 
 " Yes, if it's a short one." 
 
 " It's a very short one. Has no one ever kicked 
 you for your impertinence ? " 
 
 " Kicked me — kicked me, sir ! " cried the other, 
 while his face became purple with passion. 
 
 " Yes," resumed Tony, mildly ; " for let me men- 
 tion it to you in confidence, it's the last thing I 
 mean to do before I leave London." 
 
 "We'll see about this, sir, at once," cried the 
 porter, who rushed through the inner door, and tore 
 up- stairs like a madman. Tony meanwhile brushed 
 some dust off his coat with a stray clothes-brush 
 near, and w^as turning to leave the spot, when Skef- 
 fington came hurriedly towards him, trying to 
 smother a fit of laughter that would not be re- 
 pressed. 
 
 " What's all this, Butler? " said he. " Here's the 
 whole Office in commotion. Willis is up with the 
 chief clerk and old Baynes telling them that you 
 drew a revolver and threatened his life, and swore 
 if you hadn't an answer by to-morrow at twelve, 
 you'd blow Sir Harry's brains out." 
 
 " It's somewhat exaggerated. I had no revolver, 
 and never had one. I don't intend any violence
 
 206 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 beyond kicking that fellow, and I'll not do even that 
 if he can manage to be commonly civil." 
 
 "The Chief wishes to see this gentleman up- 
 stairs for a moment," said a pale, sickly youth to 
 Skeffington. 
 
 "Don't get flurried. Be cool, Butler, and say 
 nothing that can irritate — mind that," whispered 
 Skefi&ngton, and stole away. 
 
 Butler was introduced into a spacious room, 
 partly office, partly library, at the fireplace of which 
 stood two men, a short and a shorter. They were 
 wonderfully alike in externals, being each heavy- 
 looking, white-complexioned, serious men, with a 
 sort of dreary severity of aspect, as if the spirit of 
 domination had already begun to weigh down even 
 themselves. 
 
 " We have been informed," began the shorter of 
 the two, in a slow, deliberate voice, " that you have 
 grossly outraged one of the inferior officers of this 
 department; and although the case is one which 
 demands, and shall have, the attention of the police 
 authorities, we have sent for you — Mr Brand and 
 I — to express our indignation, — eh, Brand ? " added 
 he, in a whisper. 
 
 " Certainly, our indignation," chimed in the other. 
 
 " And aware, as we are," resumed the Chief,
 
 TONY BUTLER. 207 
 
 " that you are an applicant for employment under 
 this department, to convey to you the assurance 
 that such conduct as you have been guilty of, 
 totally debars you — excludes you " 
 
 " Yes, excludes you," chimed in Brand. 
 
 " From the most remote prospect of an appoint- 
 ment ! " said the first, taking up a book, and throw- 
 ing it down with a slap on the table, as though the 
 more emphatically to confirm his words. 
 
 "Who are you, may I ask, who pronounce so 
 •finally on my prospects ? " cried Tony. 
 
 " Who are we — who are we ? " said the Chief, in 
 a horror at the query. " Will you tell him, Mr 
 Brand ? " 
 
 The other was, however, ringing violently at the 
 bell, and did not hear the question. 
 
 " Have you sent to Scotland Yard ? " asked he of 
 the servant who came to his summons. "Tell 
 Willis to be ready to accompany the officer, and 
 make his charge." 
 
 " The gentleman asks who we are ! " said Baynes, 
 with a feeble laugh. 
 
 "I ask in no sort of disrespect to you," said 
 Butler, " but simply to learn in what capacity I am 
 to regard you. Are you magistrates? Is this a 
 court?"
 
 208 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 " No, sir, we are not magistrates," said Brand ; 
 " we are Heads of Departments — departments 
 wliicli we shall take care do not include within 
 their limits persons of your habits and pursuits." 
 
 " You can know very little about my habits or 
 pursuits. I promised your hall-porter I'd kick him, 
 and I don't suspect that either you or your little 
 friend there would risk any interference to protect 
 him." 
 
 "My Lord!" said a messenger, in a voice of 
 almost tremulous terror, while he flung open both 
 inner and outer door for the great man's approach. 
 The person who entered with a quick active step, 
 was an elderly man, white-whiskered and white- 
 haired, but his figure well set up, and his hat 
 rakishly placed a very little on one side ; his fea- 
 tures were acute, and betokened promptitude and 
 decision, blended with a sort of jocular humour 
 about the mouth, as though even state affairs did 
 not entirely indispose a man to a jest. 
 
 " Don't send that bag off to-night, Baynes, till I 
 come down," said he, hurriedly ; " and if any tele- 
 grams arrive, send them over to the House. 'Wliat's 
 this policeman doing at the door? — who is refrac- 
 tory ? " 
 
 " This — young man," he paused, for he had
 
 TONY BUTLER. 209 
 
 almost said gentleman — "has just threatened an 
 old and respectable servant of the Office with a 
 personal chastisement, my Lord." 
 
 "Declared he'd break every bone in his body," 
 chimed in Brand. 
 
 " Whose body ? " asked his Lordship. 
 
 " Willis's, my Lord — the hall-porter — a man, if I 
 mistake not, appointed by your Lordship." 
 
 " I said, I'd kick him," said Tony, calmly. 
 
 " Kick Willis 1 " said my Lord, with a forced 
 gravity, which could not, however, suppress a 
 laughing twinkle of his keen grey eyes — "kick 
 Willis?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord ; he does not attempt to deny it." 
 
 " What's your name, sir ? " asked my Lord. 
 
 " Butler," was the brief reply. 
 
 "The son of — no, not son — but relative of Sir 
 Omerod's ? " asked his Lordship again. 
 
 " His nephew." 
 
 " Why, Sir Harry Elphinstone has asked me for 
 something for you. I don't see what I can do for 
 you. It would be an admirable thing to have some 
 one to kick the porters ; but we haven't thought of 
 such an appointment, — eh, Baynes ? Willis, the 
 very first ; most impudent dog. We want a mes- 
 senger for Bucharest, Brand, don't we ? " 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " No, my Lord ; you filled it this morning — gave 
 it to Mr Beed." 
 
 " Cancel Beed, then, and appoint Butler." 
 
 "Mr Beed has gone, my Lord — started with the 
 Vienna bag." 
 
 " Make Butler supernumerary." 
 
 " There are four already, my Lord." 
 
 " I don't care if there were forty, Mr Brand ! Go 
 and pass your examination, young gentleman, and 
 thank Sir Harry Elphinstone, for this nomination 
 is at his request. I am only sorry you didn't kick 
 Willis." And with this parting speech he turned 
 away, and hopped down -stairs to his brougham, 
 with the light step and jaunty air of a man of 
 thirty. 
 
 Scarcely was the door closed, when Baynes and 
 Brand retired into a window recess, conversing in 
 lowest whispers, and with much head-shaking. To 
 what a frightful condition the country must come — 
 any country must come — when administered by 
 men of such levity — who make a sport of its in- 
 terests, and a practical joke of its patronage — was 
 the theme over which they now mourned in common. 
 
 " Are you going to make a minute of this appoint- 
 ment, Brand ? " asked Baynes. " I declare I'd not 
 do it."
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 211 
 
 The other pursed up his lips and leaned his head 
 to one side, as though to imply that such a course 
 would be a bold one. 
 
 " Will you put his name on your list ? " 
 
 ''I don't know," muttered the other. "I sus- 
 pect we can do it better. Where have you been 
 educated, Mr Butler ? " 
 
 "At home, principally." 
 
 " l^ever at any public school ? " 
 
 " Never, except you call a village school a public 
 one." 
 
 Brand's eyes glistened, and Baynes's returned the 
 sparkle. 
 
 " Are you a proficient in French ? " 
 
 " Far from it. I could spell out a fable, or a page 
 of * Telemachus,' and even that would push me 
 hard." 
 
 " Do you write a good hand ? " 
 
 " It is legible, but it's no beauty." 
 
 " And your arithmetic ? " 
 
 "Pretty much like my French — the less said 
 about it the better." 
 
 " I think that will do. Brand," whispered Baynes. 
 
 The other nodded, and muttered, " Of course ; 
 and it is the best way to do it." 
 
 " These are the points, Mr Butler," he continued.
 
 212 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 giving him a printed paper, "on which you will 
 have to satisfy the Civil Service Commissioners; 
 they are, as you see, not very numerous nor very 
 difficult. A certificate as to general conduct and 
 character — British subject — some knowledge of 
 foreign languages — the first four rules of arithmetic 
 — and that you are able to ride " 
 
 " Thank Heaven, there is one thing I can do, and 
 if you ask the Commissioners to take a cast 'cross 
 country, I'll promise them a breather." 
 
 Tony never noticed — nor, had he noticed, had he 
 cared for — the grave austerity of the heads of de- 
 partments at this outburst of enthusiasm. He was 
 too full of his own happiness^ and too eager to 
 share it with his mother. 
 
 As he gained the street, Skeffington passed Ids 
 arm through his, and walked along with him, offer- 
 ing him his cordial gratulations, and giving him 
 many wise and prudent counsels, though unfortu- 
 nately, from the state of ignorance of Tony's mind, 
 these latter were lamentably unprofitable. It was 
 of " the Office " that he warned him — of its tempers, 
 its caprices, its rancours, and its jealousies, till, lost 
 in the maze of his confusion, poor Tony began to 
 regard it as a beast of ill-omened and savage pas- 
 sions — a great monster, in fact, who lived on the
 
 TONY BUTLER. 213 
 
 bones and flesh of ardent and high-hearted youths, 
 drying up the springs of their existence, and ex- 
 hausting their brains out of mere malevolence. Out 
 of all the farrago that he listened to, all that he 
 could collect was, "that he was one of those fel- 
 lows that the chiefs always hated and invariably 
 crushed." Why destiny should have marked him 
 out for such odium — why he was born to be 
 strangled by red tape, Tony could not guess, nor, to 
 say truth, did he trouble himself to inquire; but, 
 resisting a pressing invitation to dine with Skeffing- 
 ton at his club, he hastened to his room to write 
 his good news to his mother. 
 
 ''Think of my good fortune, dearest little mother," 
 he wrote. " I have got a place, and such a place ! 
 You'd fancy it was made for me, for I have neither 
 to talk, nor to think, nor to read, nor to write — all 
 my requirements are joints that will bear bumping, 
 and a head that will stand the racket of railroad 
 and steamboat without any sense of confusion, 
 beyond what nature implanted there. Was he not 
 a wise minister who named me to a post where 
 bones are better than brains, and a good digestion 
 superior to intellect ? I am to be a messenger — 
 a Foreign Service Messenger is the grand title —
 
 214 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 a creature to go over the whole globe with a 
 white leather bag or two, full of mischief, or gos- 
 sip, as it may be, and whose whole care is to con- 
 sist in keeping his time, and being never out of 
 health. 
 
 "They say in America the bears were made for 
 Colonel Crocket's dog, and I'm sure these places 
 were made for fellows of my stamp — fellows to 
 carry a message, and yet not intrusted with the 
 telling it. 
 
 " The pay is capital, the position good — that is, 
 three-fourths of the men are as good or better than 
 myself; and the life, all tell me, is rare fun — you 
 go everywhere, see everything, and think of no- 
 thing. In all your dreams for me, you never fancied 
 the like of this. They talk of places for all sorts of 
 capacities, but imagine a berth for one of no capa- 
 city at all ! And yet, mother dear, they have made 
 a blunder — and a very absurd blunder too, and no 
 small one ! — they have instituted a test — a sort of 
 examination — for a career that ought to be tested 
 by a round with the boxing-gloves, or a sharp can- 
 ter over a course with some four-feet hurdles ! 
 
 " I am to be examined, in about six weeks from 
 this, in some foreign tongues, multiplication, and 
 the state of my muscles. I am to show proof that
 
 TONY BUTLER. 215 
 
 I was born of white parents, and am not too young 
 or too old to go alone of a message. There's the 
 whole of it. It ain't much, but it is quite enough 
 to frighten one, and I go about with the verb avoir 
 in my head, and the first four rules of arithmetic 
 dance round me like so many furies. What a 
 month of work and drudgeiy there is before you, 
 little woman. You'll have to coach me through 
 my declensions and subtractions. If you don't fag, 
 you'U be plucked, for, as for me, I'll only be your 
 representative whenever I go in. Look up your 
 grammar then, and your history too, for they 
 plucked a man the other day that said Piccolomini 
 was not a General, but a little girl that sang in the 
 ' Traviata ' ! I'd start by the mail this evening, but 
 that I have to go up to the Office — no end of a 
 chilling place — for my examination-papers, and to 
 be tested by the doctor that I am all right, thews 
 and sinews ; but I'll get away by the afternoon, 
 right glad to leave all this turmoil and confusion, 
 the veiy noise of which makes me quarrelsome and 
 iU-tempered. 
 
 '' There is such a good fellow here, Skeffington— 
 the Honourable Skeffington Damer, to speak of him 
 more formally — who has been most kind to me. 
 He is private secretary to Sir Harry, and told me
 
 216 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 all manner of things about the Government offices, 
 and the Dons that rule them. If I was a clever or 
 a sharp fellow, I suppose this would have done me 
 infinite service ; but, as old I)r Kinward says, it 
 was only * putting the wine in a cracked bottle ; ' 
 and all I can remember is the kindness that dic- 
 tated the attention. 
 
 "Skefi" is some relation — I forget what — to old 
 Mrs Maxwell of Tilney, and, like all the world, ex- 
 pects to be her heir. He talks of coming over to 
 see her when he gets his leave, and said — God for- 
 give him for it — that he'd run down and pass a day 
 with us. I couldn't say Don't, and I had not heart 
 to say Do ! I had not the courage to tell him 
 frankly that we lived in a cabin with four rooms 
 and a kitchen, and that butler, cook, footman, and 
 housemaid, were all represented by a barefooted 
 lassie, who was far more at home drawing a fishing- 
 net than in cooking its contents. I was just snob 
 enough to say. Tell us when we may look out for 
 you; and without manliness to add. And I'll run 
 away when I hear it. But he's a rare good fellow, 
 and teazes me every day to dine with him at the 
 Arthur — a club where all the young sweUs of the 
 Government offices assemble to talk of themselves, 
 and sneer at their official superiors.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 217 
 
 " I'll go out, if I can, and see Dolly before I leave, 
 though she told me the family didn't like her hav- 
 ing friends — the flunkies call them followers — and 
 of course I ought not to do what would make her 
 uncomfortable ; still, one minute or two would 
 suffice to get me some message to bring the Doctor, 
 who'll naturally expect it. I'd like, besides, to tell 
 Dolly of my good fortune — though it is, perhaps, not 
 a very graceful thing to be full of one's own success 
 to another, whose position is so painful as hers, poor 
 girl. If you saw how pale she has grown, and how 
 thin ; even her voice has lost that jolly ring it had, 
 and is now weak and poor. She seems so much 
 afraid — of what or whom I can't make out — but all 
 about her bespeaks terror. You say very little 
 of the Abbey, and I am always thinking of it. 
 The great big world, and this great big city that is 
 its capital, are very small things to me, compared to 
 that little circle that could be swept by a compass, 
 with a centre at the Burnside, and a leg of ten miles 
 long, that would take in the Abbey and the salmon- 
 weir, the rabbit-warren and the boat-jetty ! If I 
 was very rich, I'd just add three rooms to our cot- 
 tage, and put up one for myself, with my own traps ; 
 and another for you, with aU the books that ever 
 were written ; and another for Skeff, or any other
 
 218 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 good fellow we'd like to have with us. Wouldn't 
 that he jolly, little mother? I won't deny I've seen 
 what would be called prettier places here — the 
 Thames above and below Pdchmond, for instance. 
 Lawns smooth as velvet, great trees of centuries' 
 growth, and fine houses of rich people, are on every 
 side. But I like our own wild crags and breezy 
 hill-sides better ; I like the great green sea, rolling 
 smoothly on, and smashing over our rugged rocks, 
 better than all those smooth eddied currents, with 
 their smart racing -boats skimming about. If I 
 could only catch these fellows outside the Skerries 
 some day, with a wind from the north-west : wouldn't 
 I spoil the colours of their gay jackets ? 
 
 " Here's Skeff come again. He says he is going 
 to dine with some very pleasant fellows at the Star 
 and Garter, and that I must positively come. He 
 won't be denied, and I am in such rare spirits about 
 my appointment, that I feel as if I should be a churl 
 to myself to refuse, though I have my sore misgiv- 
 ings about accepting, what I well know I never can 
 make any return for. How I'd like one word from 
 you to decide for me ! 
 
 " I must shut up. I'm off to Eichmond, and they 
 are all making such a row and hurrying me so, that
 
 TONY BUTLER. 219 
 
 my head is turning. One has to hold the candle, 
 and another stands ready with the sealing-wax, by 
 way of expediting me. Good-bye, dearest mother 
 — I start to-morrow for home. — Your affectionate 
 son, 
 
 "Tony Butler."
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 A DINNER AT RICHMOND. 
 
 With the company that composed the dinner-party 
 we have only a very passing concern. They were 
 — including Skeffington and Tony — eight in all. 
 Three were young officials from Downing Street; 
 two were guardsmen ; and one an inferior member 
 of the royal household — a certain Mr Arthur May- 
 fair, a young fellow much about town, and known 
 by every one. 
 
 The dinner was ostensibly to celebrate the promo- 
 tion of one of the guardsmen — Mr Lyner; in re- 
 ality, it was one of those small orgies of eating and 
 drinking, which our modern civilisation has imported 
 from Paris. 
 
 A well-spread, and even splendid table, was no 
 novelty to Tony; but such extravagance and luxury 
 as this he had never witnessed before; it was, in 
 fact, a banquet in which all that was rarest and
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 221 
 
 most costly figured, and it actually seemed as if 
 every land of Europe had contributed some delicacy 
 or other to represent its claims to epicurism, at this 
 congress. Th^Bre were caviare from Eussia, and oys- 
 ters from Ostend, and red trout from the Highlands, 
 and plover-eggs and pheasants from Bohemia, and 
 partridges from Alsace, and scores of other deli- 
 cacies, each attended by its appropriate wine ; to 
 discuss which, with all the high connoisseurship of 
 the table, furnished the whole conversation. Poli- 
 tics and literature apart, no subject could have been 
 more removed from all Tony's experiences. He had 
 never read Brillat-Savarin, nor so much as heard 
 of M. Ude — of the great controversy between the 
 merits of white and brown truffles, he knew posi- 
 tively nothing ; and he had actually eaten terrapin, 
 and believed it to be very exquisite veal ! 
 
 He listened, and listened very attentively. If it 
 might have seemed to him that the company devoted 
 a most extravagant portion of the time to the dis- 
 cussion, there was such a realism in the presence of 
 the good things themselves, that the conversation 
 never descended to frivolity; while there was an 
 earnestness in the talkers that rejected such an im- 
 putation. 
 
 To hear them, one woidd have thought — at least,
 
 222 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 Tony thought — that all their lives had been passed 
 in dining. Could any memory retain the mass of 
 small minute circumstances that they recorded, or 
 did they keep prandial records as others keep game- 
 books? Not one of them ever forgot where, and 
 when, and how, he had ever eaten anything remark- 
 able for its excellence ; and there was an elevation 
 of language, an ecstasy imported into the reminis- 
 cences, that only ceased to be ludicrous when he 
 grew used to it. Perhaps, as a mere listener, he 
 partook more freely than he otherwise might of the 
 good things before him. In the excellence and 
 endless variety of the wines, there was, besides, 
 temptation for cooler heads than his. Not to add, 
 that on one or two occasions he found himself in a 
 jury, empannelled to pronounce upon some nice 
 question of flavour — points upon which, as the even- 
 ing wore on, he entered with a far greater reliance 
 on his judgment than he would have felt half an 
 hour before dinner. 
 
 He had not what is called in the language of 
 the table, a " made head." That is to say, at Lyle 
 Abbey, his bottle of Sneyd's Claret after dinner was 
 more than he liked well to drink ; but now, when 
 Sauterne succeeded Sherry, and Mawcobrunner came 
 after Champagne, and in succession followed Bor-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 223 
 
 deaux, and Burgundy, and Madeira, and then Bor- 
 deaux again of a rarer and choicer vintage, Tony's 
 head grew addled and confused. Though he spoke 
 very little, there passed through his mind all the 
 varied changes that his nature was susceptible of. 
 He was gay and depressed, daring and cautious, 
 quarrelsome and forgiving, stern and affectionate, by 
 turns. There were moments when he would have 
 laid down his life for the company, and fleeting in- 
 stants when his eye glanced around to see upon 
 whom he could fix a deadly quarrel ; now he felt 
 rather vainglorious at being one of such a dis- 
 tinguished company, and now a sharp distrust shot 
 through him that he was there to be the butt of 
 these town-bred wits, whose merriment was nothing 
 but a covert impertinence. 
 
 All these changeful moods only served to make 
 him drink more deeply. He filled bumpers and 
 drank them daringly. Skeffington told the story of 
 the threat to kick Willis — not much in itself, but 
 full of interest to the young officials who knew 
 Willis as an institution, and could no more have 
 imagined his personal chastisement than an insult 
 to the royal arms. When Skeff, however, finished 
 by saying that the Secretary of State himself rather 
 approved of the measure, they began to feel that
 
 224 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 Tony Butler was that greatest of all created things, 
 " a rising man." For as the power of the unknown 
 number is incommensurable, so the height to which 
 a man's success may carry him can never be esti- 
 mated. 
 
 "It's deuced hard to get one of these messenger- 
 ships," said one of the guardsmen ; "they say it's far 
 easier to be named Secretary of Legation." 
 
 " Of course it is. Fifty fellows are able to ride 
 in a coach for one that can read and write," said 
 Mayfair. 
 
 ''What do you mean by that?" cried Tony, his 
 eyes flashing fire. 
 
 " Just what I said," replied the other, mildly — 
 " that as there is no born mammal so helpless as a 
 real gentleman, it's the rarest thing to find an empty 
 shell to suit him." 
 
 " And they're well paid too," broke in the soldier. 
 " Why, there's no fellow so well off. They have five 
 pounds a-clay." 
 
 " No, they have not." 
 
 "They have." 
 
 " They have not." 
 
 " On duty. When tliey're on duty." 
 
 " No, nor off duty." 
 
 ''Harris told me."
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 225 
 
 " Harris is a fool." 
 
 " He's my cousin," said a sickly young fellow, who 
 looked deadly pale, " and I'll not hear him called a 
 liar." 
 
 " Nobody said liar. I said he was a fool." 
 
 " And so he is," broke in Mayfair, " for he went 
 and got married the other day to a girl without 
 sixpence." 
 
 " Beaumont's daughter ? " 
 
 " Exactly. The ' Lively Kitty,' as we used to call 
 her ; a name she'll scarce go by in a year or two." 
 
 " I don't think," said Tony, with a slow, deliberate 
 utterance — " I don't think that he has made me a suit 
 — suit — suitable apology for what he said — eh, Skeff ?" 
 
 " Be quiet, will you ? " muttered the other. 
 
 " Kitty had ten thousand pounds of her own." 
 
 " Not sixpence." 
 
 " I tell you she had." 
 
 " Grant it. What is ten thousand pounds ? " lisped 
 out a little pink-cheeked fellow, who had a hundred 
 and eighty per annum at the Board of Trade. " If 
 you are economical, you may get two years out of it." 
 
 " If I thought," growled out Tony into SkeflTs ear, 
 " that he meant it for insolence, I'd punch his head, 
 curls and all." 
 
 " Will you just be quiet ? " said Skeff again. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " I'd have married Kitty myself/' said pink cheeks, 
 " if I thought she had ten thousand." 
 
 " And I'd have gone on a visit to you/' said May- 
 fair, "and we'd have played billiards, the French 
 game, every evening." 
 
 " I never thought Harris was so weak as to go and 
 marry," said the youngest of the party, not fuUy 
 one-and-twenty. 
 
 " Every one hasn't your experience, Upton/' said 
 Majrfair. 
 
 " Why do the fellows bear all tliis ? " whispered 
 Tony again. 
 
 " I say, be quiet — do be quiet," mumbled Skeff. 
 
 " Who was it used to call Kitty Beaumont the Lass 
 of Eichmond Hill ? " said Mayfair ; and now another 
 uproar ensued as to the authority in question, in 
 which many contradictions were exchanged, and 
 some wagers booked. 
 
 "Sing us that song Bailey made on her — 'Fair 
 Lady on the Elver's Bank;' you can sing it, Clinton?" 
 
 " Yes, let us have the song," cried several together. 
 
 " I'll wager five pounds I'll name a prettier girl on 
 the same spot," said Tony to Skeff. 
 
 "Butler challenges the field," cried Skeff. "He 
 knows, and will name, the prettiest girl in Eich- 
 mond."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 227 
 
 " I take him. What's the figure ? " said Mayfair. 
 
 " And I — and I !" shouted three or four in a breath. 
 
 "I think he offered a pony," lisped out the 
 youngest. 
 
 " I said, I'd bet five pounds/' said Tony, fiercely ; 
 " don't misrepresent me, sir." 
 
 " I'll take your money, then," cried Mayfair. 
 
 "No, no ; I was first ; I said 'done' before you," 
 interposed a guardsman. 
 
 " But how can it be decided ? we can't summon 
 the rival beauties to our presence, and perform Paris 
 and the apple," said Skeff. 
 
 "Come along with me and you shall see her," 
 broke in Tony ; " she lives within less than five min- 
 utes' walk of where we are. I am satisfied that the 
 matter should be left to your decision, Skef&ngton." 
 
 " No, no," cried several together ; " take Mayfair 
 with you ; he is the fittest man amongst us for 
 such a criticism ; he has studied these matters 
 profoundly." 
 
 "Here's a health to all good lasses!" cried out 
 another; and goblets were filled with champagne, 
 and drained in a moment, while some attempted the 
 song ; and others, imagining that they had caught 
 the air, started off with " Here's to the Maiden of 
 Blooming Fifteen," making up an amount of confu-
 
 228 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 sion that was perfectly deafening, in which the waiter 
 entered to observe, in a very meek tone, that the 
 Archdeacon of Halford was entertaining a select 
 party in the next room, and entreated that they 
 might be permitted to hear each other occasionally. 
 
 Such a burst of horror and indignation as followed 
 this request ! some were for an armed intervention at 
 once ; some for a general smash of all things prac- 
 ticable ; and two or three, haughtier in their drunk- 
 enness, declared that the Star and Garter should 
 have no more of their patronage, and proudly ordered 
 the waiter to fetch the bill. 
 
 "Thirty-seven — nine — six," said Mayfair, as he 
 held the document near a candle ; " make it an even 
 forty for the waiters, and it leaves five pounds 
 a-head, eh ? — not too much after all." 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; the asparagus was miser- 
 ably small." 
 
 ''And I got no strawberries." 
 
 " I have my doubts about that Moselle." 
 
 " It ain't dear : at least, it's not dearer than any- 
 where else." 
 
 While these criticisms were going forward, Tony 
 perceived that each one in turn was throwing down 
 his sovereigns on the table, as his contribution to the 
 fund; and he approached Skeffingtou, to whisper
 
 TONY BUTLER. 229 
 
 that he had forgotten his purse, — his sole excuse to 
 explain, what he wouldn't confess, that he believed 
 he was an invited guest. Skeff was, however, by 
 this time so completely overcome by the last toast, 
 that he sat staring fatuously before him, and could 
 only mutter, in a melancholy strain, " To be, or not 
 to be ; that's a question." 
 
 " Can you lend me some money ?" whispered Tony. 
 " I want your purse." 
 
 " He — takes my purse — trash — trash " mum- 
 bled out the other. 
 
 " I'll book up for Skeffy," said one of the guards- 
 men ; " and now it's all right." 
 
 " No," said Tony aloud ; ''I haven't paid ; I left 
 my purse behind; and I can't make Skeffington 
 understand that I want a loan from him ; " and he 
 stooped down again, and whispered in his ear. 
 
 While a buzz of voices assured Tony that "it didn't 
 matter, — all had money, any one could pay," and so 
 on, Skeffington gravely handed out his cigar-case, 
 and said, " Take as much as you like, old fellow ; 
 it was quarter-day last week." 
 
 In a wild uproarious burst of laughter they now 
 broke up ; some helping Skeffington along, some 
 performing mock ballet steps, and two or three at- 
 tempting to walk with an air of rigid propriety,
 
 230 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 which occasionally diverged into strange tan- 
 gents. 
 
 Tony was completely bewildered. Never was a 
 poor brain more addled than his. At one moment 
 he thought them all the best fellows in the world : 
 he'd have risked his neck for any of them ; and at 
 the next he regarded them as a set of insolent 
 snobs, daring to show off airs of superiority to a 
 stranger, because he was not one of them ; and so 
 he oscillated between the desire to show his affec- 
 tion for them, or have a quarrel with any of them. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mayfair, with a reasonably good 
 voice and some taste, broke out into a wild sort 
 of air, whose measure changed at every moment. 
 One verse ran thus : — 
 
 *' By the light of the moon, by the light of the moon, 
 We all went home by the light of the moon. 
 With a ringing song 
 We tramped along, 
 RecalHng what we'll forget so soon, 
 How the wine was good, 
 And the talk was free, 
 And pleasant and gay the company. 
 
 ' ' For the wine supplied 
 What our wits denied, 
 And we pledged the girls whose eyes we knew, whose eyes we 
 
 knew. 
 You ask her name, but what's that to you, what's that to you ?"
 
 TONY BUTLER. 231 
 
 " Well, there's where she lives, anyhow," mut- 
 tered Tony, as he came to a dead stop on the road, 
 and stared full at a small two-storeyed house in front 
 of him. 
 
 " Ah, that's where she lives !" repeated Mayfair, 
 as he drew his arm within Tony's, and talked in a 
 low and confidential tone. " And a sweet, pretty 
 cottage it is. What a romantic little spot ! What 
 if we were to serenade her?" 
 
 Tony gave no reply. He stood looking up at the 
 closed shutters of the quiet house, which, to his 
 eyes, represented a sort of penitentiary for that 
 poor imprisoned hard-working girl. His head was 
 not very clear, but he had just sense enough to 
 remember the respect he owed her condition, and 
 how jealously he should guard her from the inter- 
 ference of others. Meanwhile, Mayfair had leaped 
 over the low paling of the little front garden, and 
 stood now close to the house. With an admirable 
 imitation of the prelude of a guitar, he began to 
 sing, 
 
 " Come, dearest Lilla, 
 Thy anxious lover 
 Counts, counts the weary moments over " — 
 
 As he reached thus far, a shutter gently opened, 
 and in the strong glare of the moonlight, some trace
 
 232 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 of a head could be detected behind the curtain. 
 Encouraged by this, the singer went on in a rich 
 and flowery voice — 
 
 " Anxious lie waits, 
 Thy voice to hear 
 Break, break on his enraptured ear." 
 
 At this moment the window was thrown open, 
 and a female voice, in an accent strongly Scotch, 
 called out — " Awa wi' ye — pack o' ne'er-do-weels as 
 ye are — awa wi' ye a' ! I'll call the police." But 
 Mayfair went on — 
 
 ' ' The night invites to love. 
 So tarry not above, 
 But Lilla — Lilla — Lilla come down to me ! " 
 
 " I'll come down to you, and right soon," shouted 
 a hoarse masculine voice. Two or three who had 
 clambered over the paling beside Mayfair now 
 scampered off; and Mayfair himself, making a 
 spring, cleared the fence, and ran down the road 
 at the top of his speed, followed by all but Tony, 
 who, half in indignation at their ignominious flight, 
 and half with some vague purpose of apology, 
 stood his ground before the gate. 
 
 The next moment the hall door opened, and a 
 short thick-set man^ armed with a powerful blud-
 
 TONY BUTLER. 233 
 
 geon, rushed out and made straight towards him. 
 Seeing, however, that Tony stood firm, neither of- 
 fering resistance, nor attempting escape, he stopped 
 short, and cried out — " What for drunken black- 
 guards are ye, that canna go home without disturb- 
 ing a quiet neighbourhood?" 
 
 " If you can keep a civil tongue in your head," 
 said Tony, " I'll ask your pardon for this disturb- 
 ance." 
 
 " AVhat's your apology to me, you young scamp?" 
 cried the other, wrenching open the gate and pass- 
 ing out into the road. " I'd rather give you a 
 lesson than listen to your excuses." He lifted his 
 stick as he spoke, but Tony sprang upon him with 
 the speed of a tiger, and, wrenching the heavy 
 bludgeon out of his hand, flung it far into a neigh- 
 bouring field, and then, grasping him by the collar 
 with both hands, he gave him such a shake as very 
 soon convinced his antagonist how unequal the 
 struggle would be between them. " By Heaven ! " 
 muttered Tony, " if you so much as lay a hand on 
 me, I'll send you after your stick. Can't you see 
 that this was only a drunken frolic, that these 
 young fellows did not want to insult you, and if I 
 stayed here behind them, it was to appease, not to 
 offend you ? "
 
 234 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " Dinna speak to me, sir. Let me go — let go my 
 coat. I'm not to be handled in this manner/' cried 
 the other, in passion. 
 
 " Go back to your bed, then !" said Tony, pushing 
 him from him. " It's clear enough you have no 
 gentleman's blood in your body, or you'd accept an 
 amends, or resent an affront." 
 
 Stung by this retort, the other turned and aimed 
 a blow at Butler's face ; but he stopped it cleverly, 
 and then, seizing him by the shoulder, he swung 
 him violently round, and threw him within the gate 
 of the garden. 
 
 "You are more angered than hurt," muttered 
 Tony, as he looked at him for an instant. 
 
 " Oh, Tony, that this could be you ! " cried a 
 faint voice from a little window of an attic, and a 
 violent sob closed the words. 
 
 Tony turned and went his way towards London, 
 those accents ringing in his ears, and at every step 
 he went repeating — '' That this could be you ! "
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A STRANGE MEETING AND PAETING. 
 
 What a dreary waking was that of Tony's on the 
 morning after the orgies. Not a whit the less over- 
 whelming from the great difficulty he had in re- 
 calling the events, and investigating his own share 
 in them. There was nothing that he could look 
 back upon with pleasure. Of the dinner and the 
 guests, all that he could remember was the costli- 
 ness and the tumult ; and of the scene at Mrs 
 M'Gruder's, his impression was of insults given and 
 received, a violent altercation, in which his own 
 share could not be defended. 
 
 How different had been his waking thoughts, had 
 he gone as he proposed, to bid Dora a good-bye, 
 and tell her of his great good fortune ! How full 
 would his memory now have been of her kind 
 words and wishes ! how much would he have to 
 recall of her sisterly affection ! for they had been
 
 236 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 like brother and sister from their childhood. It 
 was to Dora that Tony confided all his boyhood's 
 sorrows, and to the same ear he had told his first 
 tale of love, when the beautiful Alice Lyle had sent 
 through his heart those emotions, which, whether 
 of ecstasy or torture, make a new existence and a 
 new being to him who feels them for the first time. 
 He had loved Alice as a girl, and was all but heart- 
 broken when she married. His sorrows — and were 
 they not sorrows ? — had all been intrusted to Dora, 
 and from her he had heard such wise and kind 
 counsels, such encouraging and hopeful words ; and 
 when the beautiful Alice came back, within a year, 
 a widow, far more lovely than ever, he remembered 
 how all his love was rekindled. Nor was it the 
 less entrancing that it was mingled with a degree 
 of deference for her station, and an amount of dis- 
 tance which her new position exacted. 
 
 He had intended to have passed his last evening 
 with Dora in talking over these things — and how 
 had he spent it ? In a wild and disgraceful debauch, 
 and in a company of which he felt himself well 
 ashamed. 
 
 It was, however, no part of Tony's nature to 
 spend time in vain regrets ; he lived ever more in 
 the present than the past. There were a number of
 
 TONY BUTLER. 237 
 
 things to be done, and done at once. The first was 
 to acquit his debt for that unlucky dinner ; and in 
 a tremor of doubt, he opened his little store to see 
 what remained to him. Of the eleven pounds ten 
 shillings his mother gave him he had spent less 
 than two pounds ; he had travelled third-class to 
 London, and while in town denied himself every 
 extravagance. He rang for his hotel bill, and was 
 shocked to see that it came to three pounds seven- 
 and-sixpence. He fancied he had half-starved 
 himself, and he saw a catalogue of steaks and 
 luncheons to his share, that smacked of very 
 gluttony. He paid it without a word, gave an 
 apology to the waiter, that he had run himself 
 short of money, and could only offer him a crown. 
 The dignified official accepted the excuse and the 
 coin, mth a smile of bland sorrow. It was a pity 
 that cut both ways, for himself and for Tony too. 
 
 There now remained but a few shillings above 
 five pounds, and he sat down and wrote this note : — 
 
 " My Dear 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 favour to thank and repay him ? I am off to 
 Ireland hurriedly, or I'd call and see you. I have
 
 238 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 not even time to wait for those examination papers, 
 which were to be deKvered to me either to-day or 
 to-morrow. Would you send them by post, ad- 
 dressed ' T. Butler, Burnside, Coleraine.' My 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 Mother, — Don't expect me on Satur- 
 day ; it may be two or three days later ere I reach 
 home. I am all right, in rare 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 decide 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 j^ou the very humblest 
 apology for the disturbance created last night 
 before your house. "We had all drunk too much
 
 TONY BUTLER. 239 
 
 wine, lost our heads, and forgotten good manners. 
 If I had been in a fitting condition to express my- 
 self 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 
 conduct, and how desirous I feel to know that you 
 will cherish no ungenerous feelings towards your 
 faithful servant, " T. Butler." 
 
 " I hope he'U 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 gentle- 
 man, 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 aU," 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 baulk 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.
 
 240 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 " 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 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 ; anything 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 rail- 
 road fare was above a ]DOund. 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 hedge- 
 row. Very dear indeed was the price that grand 
 banquet cost him, and yet not dearer than half the 
 extravagances men are daily and hourly committing 
 — the only difference being, that the debt is not 
 usually exacted so promptly. He Avi'ote his name
 
 TONY BUTLER. 241 
 
 on a card, and gave it to the waiter, saying " Wlien 
 I send to you under this name, you will give my 
 portmanteau to the bearer of the message, for I 
 shall probably 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, 
 respectfully. 
 
 " Not a great deal," said Tony, with a faint smile. 
 
 " I was afraid, sir, from seeing you look pale this 
 morning. I fancied, indeed, that there was some- 
 thing amiss. I hope you're not displeased at the 
 liberty I took, sir?" 
 
 "Not a bit; indeed I feel grateful to you for 
 noticing that I was not in good spirits. I have so 
 very 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'll 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 
 
 VOL. L Q
 
 242 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 
 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 I take, 
 and let me, as far as a ten-pound note ;" he stam- 
 mered 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 I am not so hard pressed as 
 you suspect. It is a merely momentary inconve- 
 nience, 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 243 
 
 passers-by, and he sauntered along, now musing 
 over liis own lot, now falling back upon that trust- 
 ful heart of the poor waiter, whose position could 
 scarcely have inspired such confidence. 
 
 " I am certain that what are called moralists are 
 unfair censors of their fellow-men. I'll be sworn 
 there is more of kindness, and generosity, and 
 honest truth in the world, than 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." 
 
 Wliile 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 over- 
 whelming 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 un- 
 questionably fallen, if it were not that a strong 
 hand grasped him by the shoulder, and swung him 
 powerfully back upon the flagway. 
 
 " Is it blind you are, that you didn't hear the 
 'bus ?" cried a somewhat gruff voice, with an accent 
 that told of a land he liked well ; and Tony turned
 
 244 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 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 honour, and no lie in 
 it," said he, reddening, as if — although 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 re- 
 gained 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 shil- 
 lings 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.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 245 
 
 Wliile Tony assuaged, as well as he might, the 
 anger of his wounded pride, they walked on to- 
 gether for some time, till at last the other said — 
 " I'll have to hurry away now, your honour ; I'm 
 to be at Blackwall, to catch the packet for Derry, 
 by twelve o'clock." 
 
 " What packet do you speak of ? " 
 
 " The Foyle, 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 honour wouldn't mind taking charge of 
 this," said he, pointing to his bundle, " I'd be off 
 in a jiffy, and get the trunk, and be back by the 
 time you reached the steamer." 
 
 "AVould you reaUy do me this service? Well, 
 here's my card ; when you show this to the waiter 
 he'U hand you the portmanteau ; and there is no- 
 thing to pay." 
 
 " All right, sir ; the Foyle, a big paddle-steamer 
 — you'll know her red chimney the moment you 
 see it ;" and without another word he gave Tony 
 his bundle and hurried away.
 
 246 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " Is not this trustfulness ? " thought Tony, as he 
 walked onward ; " I suppose this little bundle con- 
 tains all this poor fellow's worldly store, and he 
 commits it to a stranger, without one moment of 
 douht 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 occupation 
 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 passengers, offered itself at the moment. 
 He jumped in, and soon found himself aboard a
 
 TONY BUTLER. 247 
 
 large mercantile boat, her deck covered with frag- 
 ments 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 wideawake. 
 
 "Fm 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 de- 
 tained 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 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 buf- 
 feted 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 scram- 
 bled 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.
 
 248 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 and two slow revolutions of her paddles showed 
 she was ready to start. Almost frantic with an- 
 xiety 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 Foyle. " 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 in- 
 creased, 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 handkerchief 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 249 
 
 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 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 deferen- 
 tial 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 adven- 
 tures 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 any- 
 thing — even my luggage is left behind." 
 
 " Five-and-twenty, Mr Tony, if you want it. I'm
 
 250 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 as glad as fifty to see you here. You'll 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 accidents. 
 
 " 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 monotonously as need be. If Tony had 
 been given to reflection, he would have had a glori- 
 ous opportunity to indulge the taste, but it was the 
 very least of aU his tendencies.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 251 
 
 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 com- 
 panion. Asking him to think for himself, and by 
 himself, was pretty much like asking him to play 
 chess or backgammon with himself, where it de- 
 pended on his caprice which side was to be the 
 winner. The habit of self-depreciation had, be- 
 sides, got hold of him, and he employed it as an 
 excuse to cover his inertness. " AVhat's the use of 
 my doing this, that,' or t'other? I'll 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 tlieir 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 hadn't been ' mooning,' I'd not have walked 
 under the pole of the omnibus, nor chanced upon 
 this poor fellow, whose bundle I 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
 
 252 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 think of him ! " What a cruel lesson of mistrust 
 and suspicion have I implanted in that honest 
 heart I 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 prevent — the de- 
 parture of the steamer ; nor, with Tony's own lug- 
 gage in his possession, could he arraign his honesty, 
 or distrust his honour. 
 
 He bethought him that he would consult Waters, 
 for whose judgment in spavins, thoroughpins, capped 
 hocks, and navicular lameness, he had the deepest 
 veneration. Waters, who knew horses so thorouglily, 
 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 you can give me some advice on 
 it." They sat down accordingly under the shelter 
 of a horse-box, while Tony related circumstantially 
 his late misadventure. 
 
 The old coachman heard him to the end without 
 interruption. 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
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 253 
 
 something judicial in his position, and assumed 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 ? " 
 
 " Wei], 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 find a clue to him." 
 
 " Well, indeed, I'd do that much out of cur'osity. 
 At all events, you'll not get to know about him 
 from the blue handkercher with the white spots." 
 
 Tony did not quite approve the counsel ; he had 
 his scruples, even in a good cause, about this inves- 
 tigation, and he walked the deck till far into tlie 
 night, pondering over it. He tried to solve the case 
 by speculating on what the countryman would have 
 done with Ids pack. " He'll have doubtless tried 
 to find out where I am to be met with or come at. 
 He'll have ransacked my traps, and if so, there will 
 be the less need of my investigating his. He's sure
 
 254 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 to trace me." This reasoning satisfied him so per- 
 fectly 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 that seK-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.
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 255 
 
 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 in- 
 formation very willingly. In truth, he felt a re- 
 pugnance 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, rea- 
 son how we may, the old estimate of the law as an 
 oppression surges up through our thoughts, just as 
 springs weU up in an undrained soil. 
 
 " I'm certain you're wrong, Waters," said he, 
 boldly; "he hadn't a bit the look of that about 
 him : he was a fine, fresh-featured, determined sort 
 of fellow, but without a trace of cunning or distrust 
 in his face." 
 
 " I'll 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 some- 
 body — you agree to that?" 
 
 Tony gave a sort of grunt, which the other took 
 for concurrence, 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
 
 256 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 another sort of val'ables is under his charge. It's 
 highwaymen and housebreakers, 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 re- 
 lation's ? Would a fellow trained to the ways of a 
 prison trust the first man he meets in the street, 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 muttered to himself as he walked off, " How 
 stupid it is to take any view of life from a feUow 
 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, 
 that no humility can rob of its hold upon the heart ;
 
 TONY BUTLER. 257 
 
 home, that appeals to the poorest of us by the self- 
 same sympathies the richest and greatest feel ! Yes ; 
 yonder was Carrig-a-Eede, and there were the Sker- 
 ries, 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 Lame to land those 
 two or three passengers, and what tiresome leave- 
 takings they indulge in ; and the luggage, too, they'll 
 never get it together ! So thought Tony, his impa- 
 tience mastering both reason and generosity. 
 
 " I'll 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 
 cpuld 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 in to 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 honour will tell the master that 
 I didn't ask the captain to stop, for I saw it was no 
 use." 
 
 VOL. I. "R
 
 258 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " None whatever. I'll tell him — that is, if I see 
 him/' muttered Tony, below his breath. 
 
 " Maybe, if there was too much sea ' on ' for your 
 honour to land " 
 
 " What ?" interrupted Tony, eyeing him sternly. 
 
 " I was saying, sir, that if your honour was forced 
 to come on to Derry " 
 
 "How should I be forced?" 
 
 " By the heavy surf, no less," said Waters, peev- 
 ishly, for he foresaw failure to his negotiation, 
 
 " The tide will be on the flood till eleven, and if 
 they can't lower a boat 111 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." 
 
 " W^ell, the wind's freshening anyhow," grumbled 
 Waters, not very sorry, perhaps, at the turn the 
 weather was taking. 
 
 " It will be the rougher for you 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 — ^liow earnest he had 
 grown, and how resolute and how stern too. Was 
 this a sign that the world was going well, or the
 
 TONY BUTLER. 259 
 
 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 tra- 
 veller threw off in the sunshine the cloak which he 
 had gathered round fiim in the storm, prosperity 
 will -^s 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 Tony, shaking hands with 
 him. " I'll report well of the beasts, and say also 
 how kindly you treated me." 
 
 " You'll 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'll mind you more than me — that there's no- 
 thing will keep beasts from kicking when a ship 
 takes to rollin' ; and that, when the helpers got sea- 
 sick, and couldn't keep on deck, *if it hadn't 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
 
 260 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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. 
 
 " ISTow's your time, my smart fellow," cried the 
 captain — " off with you ! " And as he spoke, Tony 
 swung himself 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 for 
 ever. 
 
 Tony uttered what was not exactly a blessing 
 on his awkwardness, 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. Tliose two
 
 262 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 Saturday, 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." 
 
 " Wliich 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 dulness, without subjecting him to the stupid- 
 ities of Tilney Park? — the dreariest old mansion 
 of a dreary neighbourhood." 
 
 "But he might like it. As a matter of experi- 
 mental 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."
 
 TONY BUTLEIl. 263 
 
 " Nor did I include the charms of the fair Cha- 
 chinhontas, who was the object of your then affec- 
 tions," said she, laughingly, but in a lower tone. 
 
 " So, then," said he, '' Master Mark has been play- 
 ing 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'll not venture to say the depth, but certainly 
 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 ardour deserved. I came 
 head-foremost to the ground before my 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 ambi- 
 tious in those days." 
 
 " Very true," said he, with a deep sigli ; " Ijut it 
 was the only time in my life in whicli I could say 
 that I suffered my affections to be influenced by 
 mere worldly advantages. She was a great heiress ; 
 she had a most powerful family connection."
 
 264 TOXY BUTLER. 
 
 "How absurd you are!" said Lady Lyle, good- 
 humouredly. 
 
 " 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 appal- 
 ling, then ? " said my lady. 
 
 " Certainly it does. AU the efforts of our present 
 civilisation seem directed to that end. We sur- 
 round it with whatever 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 
 Lyle. 
 
 "My dear mamma, are you forgetting what a 
 marvellous opportunity we enjoy of learning the
 
 TONY BUTLER. 265 
 
 geography of an unknown 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 pur- 
 chased 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 neighbour 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 con- 
 ceit. " If we take the low road — it's very little
 
 266 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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'll go there with you." 
 
 " You overwhelm me with obligations/' said he, 
 bowing low, to which she replied by a curtsy so 
 profound as to throw an air of ridicule over his 
 courtly politeness. 
 
 " Shall we say to-morrow for our departure, Mr 
 Maitland?" 
 
 " 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 
 Tilney (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 neighbourhood 
 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,
 
 TONY BUTLER. 267 
 
 whether I shouldn'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 con- 
 cerns ! " said Mrs Trafford. " Didn't you say some- 
 thing, 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." 
 
 " Wliat'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 doesn'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 Mait-
 
 268 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 land! but I trust, sir, that you know something 
 of my daughter's talent 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 Mait- 
 land.
 
 CHAPTER XYIL 
 
 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 weren'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'll not like the 
 little cottage 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,"
 
 270 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 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!" 
 
 " 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 every- 
 thing." 
 
 "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 was 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 lucky enough if I can de- 
 cipher it myself. Here we begin : ' Albion, Liver- 
 pool Capital breakfast, but dear. 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,
 
 TONY BUTLER. 271 
 
 and had my 'baccy.' I needn't read all this 
 balderdash, mother ; I'll go on to business matters. 
 ' Skeffy, a trump, told me where he buys " birds'- 
 eye " for one and nine the pound ; and, mixed 
 with cavendish, it makes grand smoking. Skeffy 
 says he'll get me the first thing vacant.' " 
 
 " Who is Skeffy ? I never heard of him before." 
 " Of course you've heard. He's private secretary 
 to Sir Harry, and gives away all the Office patron- 
 age. 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 here — 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 Harry, cruel enougli, 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."
 
 272 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 grey eyes that look through you, and a 
 mouth that you can't guess whether he's going to 
 eat you up or to quiz yoa. It was he that said, 
 * Make Butler a messenger.' They didn't like it. 
 The Office fellows looked as sulky as night ; but
 
 TONY BUTLER. 273 
 
 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'll 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'll 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 civili- 
 sation 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 — regu- 
 lar 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 isn't such a bad one." 
 
 " And does it lead to anything — is there any pro- 
 motion 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 
 
 VOL. L S
 
 274 TOXY BUTLER. 
 
 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 they'd not cnange with the First 
 Secretaries of any Legation in Europe. 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 
 confusion ; for she was not always sure in what 
 temper Tony would receive k stranger. 
 
 "And who may Mr Maitland be V 
 
 "A very charming and a very kind person too, 
 whose acquaintance I made since you left tliis : 
 he brought me books and flowers, and some ger- 
 anium slips ; and, better than all, his own genial 
 company." 
 
 " He's not much of a sportsman, I see — that short 
 gun he carries is more like a walking-stick than a
 
 TONY BUTLER. 276 
 
 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 sin- 
 cere 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 honoured, sir ; but I don't see any reason for 
 sucli an interest in me." 
 
 " Oh, Tony," broke in the widow ; but Maitland 
 interrupted 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
 
 276 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 sin- 
 cerity, but their 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 T bear our narrow
 
 TONY BUTLER. 277 
 
 means only because there's a sort of rugged inde- 
 pendence 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-humour. "We have made what the officials 
 call the extraordinaries fill a very small column. 
 Tliere ! " 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." 
 
 " He's gone now — he has dived," said Tony ; 
 "there's nothing harder to hit than one of these 
 birds — what between 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
 
 278 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 admira- 
 tion at the marksman. " 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. We 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, 
 recognising for the first time his lithe and well-knit, 
 well-proportioned figure. 
 
 "I'll be bound you are a horseman too!" cried 
 Tony. 
 
 " If you hadn't praised my shooting, I'd teU you 
 that I ride better than I shoot." 
 
 "How I'd like to have a brush across country 
 with you ! " exclaimed Tony, warmly.
 
 TONY JBUTLER. 279 
 
 "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'll 
 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'll 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 attrac- 
 tion for me. I have aU my life long been a disciple 
 of that school ; 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 upper- 
 most, and always in terms of praise, I should say — 
 your son's." 
 
 " I have met with great kindness from Sir Arthur 
 and his family," said Tony, half sternly, half sor- 
 rowfully. " 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 sou has 
 been so full of his travels, and all the great people 
 he met, that we have not got through more than
 
 280 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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, eager- 
 ly, ''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."
 
 TONY BUTLEE. 281 
 
 "His what!" exclaimed Tony, with a burst of 
 laughter. " His what, mother ? " 
 
 " Let me try and explain away, if I can, the pre- 
 sumption of such a project. Not now, however," 
 said Maitland, looking at his watch, "for I have 
 already overstayed my time; and I have an ap- 
 pointment 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. Ill give 
 Mr Maitland a loan of you for half an hour. Go 
 with him, by all means." 
 
 With 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 Maitland ; " 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 Maitland an opportunity of seeing 
 a little more of his companion before entering upon 
 any serious converse. Tony, however, was as im- 
 penetrable in his simplicity as some others are in 
 their depth ; and 'after two or three attempts to
 
 282 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 draw liim 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 interested. However, 
 as I well knew, even if I succeeded in inducing you 
 to become my comrade, it would be necessary to 
 have a sort of narrative which would conceal the 
 project from your mother, it occurred to me to get 
 up this silly idea of a secretaryship, which I own 
 freely may have offended you." 
 
 " Not offended ; it only amused me," said Tony, 
 good - humouredly. "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 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 ? "
 
 TONY BUTLER. 283 
 
 " I don't know. I can only say, I don't think 
 I'm veiy likely to do one or the other." 
 
 " We shall see that. I don't concur in the opin- 
 ion, but we shall see. It would be rather a tedious 
 process to explain myself fully as to my project, 
 but I'll 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 honour, and 
 never to be divulged to any one. I have your 
 word for this ? " They pressed hands, and he con- 
 tinued. " 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 adventur- 
 ous spirits of other countries — men Avho, averse to 
 ignoble callings or monotonous labour, W(^uld 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 fortune, hope, or personal energy. 
 I have, in a word, thrown my whole future into its 
 cause. I have its confidence in return ; and I am
 
 284 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 enabled not only to offer a liigli 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." 
 
 " ISTor I neither ! " cried Tony. " I hate French- 
 men ; 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'll find yourself arrayed against Frenchmen." 
 
 "All right; I'd do that with a heart and a half; 
 but what is the State? Is it Austria? — is it 
 Ptussia ? " 
 
 " Neither. If you only give me to beHeve that 
 you listen favourably to my plan, you shall hear 
 everything ; and I'LL tell you, besides, what I shall 
 offer to you personally — the command of a com- 
 pany in an Irish regiment, with the certainty of 
 rapid advancement, and ample means to supply 
 yourself with all that your position requires. Is 
 that sufficient ? "
 
 TONY BUTLER. 285 
 
 " 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 coun- 
 trymen 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 try — 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'll tax your patience some day to listen 
 to it aU from me ; for the jpresent, 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 
 siilce 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 ?"
 
 286 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing very high and mighty. I'm to 
 be what they call a Queen's Messenger." 
 
 " Under the Foreign Office ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Kot 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." 
 
 This speech, a random shot as it was, hit the 
 mark, and Maitland saw that Tony winced under 
 it, and he went on. 
 
 " Tlie worst is, however, that these things lead to 
 nothing. If a man takes to the law, 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 Lieu- 
 tenant-General before it. One always has an eye 
 to the upper branches, whatever be the tree ; but 
 this messenger affair is a mere bush, which 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 yourself 
 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 287 
 
 its changes of fortune, its variety, its adventures, 
 and its rewards. Men like you confront dangers, 
 but are always conquered by mere drudgery. Am 
 I 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 chosers." 
 
 " There never was a sillier adage. It assumes 
 that because a man is poor he must remain poor. 
 It presumes to affirm that no one can alter his con- 
 dition. And who are the successful in life ? The 
 men who have energy to will it — the fellows 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'll 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 thin^i^s a man cannot consult his mother
 
 288 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 upon ; and when we meet again, which will not be 
 for a few days, as I leave for a short absence to- 
 morrow, you'll give me your answer." 
 
 "What day do you expect to be back here ?" 
 
 " 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 Mait- 
 land, as he moved away — " I have liim."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ON THE ROAD. 
 
 A GREAT moralist and a profound thinker has left 
 it on record that there were few pleasanter sensa- 
 tions than tliose 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, inde- 
 pendent of broad gauges and narrow, and deriving 
 none of its enjoyment from steam or science. 
 
 Maitland was to know tliis now in all its ecstasy, 
 as he drove off from Lyle Abbey with Mrs Trafford. 
 There was sometliing of gala in the equipage — the 
 four dappled greys with pink roses at their heads, 
 the smartly- dressed servants, and, more than all, the 
 
 VOL. I, T
 
 290 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 lovely widow herself, most becomingly dressed in 
 a costume which, by favour of the climate, could 
 combine furs with lace — that forcibly struck him as 
 resembling 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." 
 
 " No 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." 
 
 "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 reminders 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 very secluded and forgotten."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 291 
 
 "And how long ago was this ?" 
 
 " Oh, very long ago — fully a year and a half." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried he, with a well-feigned astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "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'll show you all how 
 very easy it is to live without you. I'll let you see 
 that I can exist without your homage.' " 
 
 "And you really fancied this?" 
 
 " You ask as if you thought the thing incredible." 
 
 " Only difficult — not impossible." 
 
 " I never intended total isolation, mind. I'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 you'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 condemning its frivolities ; but
 
 292 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 ! 
 You know very little about him who would have 
 been my chief adviser and Grand Vizier." 
 
 "And who, pray, would have been so fortunate 
 as to fill that post ? " 
 
 " 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 ex- 
 perience, 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 gener- 
 ous." 
 
 " 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.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 293 
 
 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. PuU 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 Mrs 
 Trafford ; while the young fellow, instead of ap- 
 proaching 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 pardon. I'm not sure you'll 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
 
 294 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 confusion, and made liim blush deeply. No sooner, 
 however, had he seen Maitland, of whose presence 
 up to that he had been ignorant, than he grew 
 pale, and had to steady himself by catching hold 
 of the door. 
 
 " I see you are ashamed," said she, " but I'll 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 acquaint- 
 ance 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. 
 You 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." 
 
 " Yes, sir," resumed she, with a well-feigned air 
 of severity — " but mine is a command." 
 
 " I have left the service — I have taken my dis- 
 charge," said he, with a forced laugh. 
 
 " At least, you ought to quit with honour — not as 
 a deserter," said she, softly, but sadly. 
 
 " Perhaps he could not trust his resolution, if he
 
 TONY BUTLER. 295 
 
 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. 
 Eemember 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 
 recognise him," said Mrs Trafford, as they resumed 
 their journey. "He used to be the gentlest, easi- 
 est, softest of all natures. Never put out — never 
 crossed by anything." 
 
 "And so I've no doubt you'd have fomid him 
 to-day if I had not been here." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Surely you remarked the sudden change tliat 
 came over his face when he saw me. He thought
 
 296 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 dan- 
 gerous 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 hu- 
 mility 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 caU 
 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 297 
 
 gold mine of his you are displaying before me. Has 
 lie any other gifts or graces ? " 
 
 " He has a store of good qualities, Mr Maitland ; 
 they are not, perhaps, very sliowy ones." 
 
 "Like those of some other of our acquaint- 
 ance," 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 admirable companion 
 to pass it with : the misfortune is, that these men 
 must take their places in the common tournament 
 with the rest of us, and then they are not so certain 
 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 
 simj)le boy — for really, in all dealings with the 
 world, he is a boy; and you would like us to be- 
 lieve that, if we saw him under other circumstances.
 
 298 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 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." 
 
 " You are pushing me to the verge of a great in- 
 discretion ; 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 di- 
 vulged. 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 dis- 
 ciplined. The inquiry 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 harsh- 
 ness 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 299 
 
 fellow is one to whom he could rightfully bequeath 
 a considerable fortune, and place before the world 
 as the head of an honoured 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 eccentric old 
 man, whose long life in the diplomatic service has 
 made him fifty times more lenient to a moral de- 
 linquency 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 
 faitlifully representing, another ; he'd say this more 
 strongly too than I have, and he'd leave him there. 
 Now, I'm not very certain that he'd be wrong ; 
 permit me to finish. I mean to say, that in all that 
 regards what the old minister-plenipotentiary ac- 
 knowledges to be life, Master Tony would not shine. 
 The solid qualities you dwelt on so favourably 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
 
 300 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 sincere regard for the old lady his mother, in whose 
 society I have passed two or three delightful morn- 
 ings, 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 
 Continent — 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 contrived to bring him under his uncle's 
 notice, — as a stranger, of course : if the effect were 
 favourable, well and good ; if it proved a failure, 
 there was neither disappointment nor chagrin. INIrs 
 Butler gave me a half assent, and I was on the good 
 road with her son till this morning, when that un- 
 lucky meeting has, I suspect, spoiled everything."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 301 
 
 "But why should it?" 
 
 " Why should anything happen as men's passions 
 or impulses decide it? Why should one man he 
 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 
 Traflford, if I had not heen so sore pressed that I 
 couldn't afford to let you, while defending your 
 friend, accuse me of want of generosity and unfair- 
 ness. 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 favour." 
 
 " As if the great Mr Maitland could care for any 
 judgments 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 liave 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."
 
 302 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " 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 didn'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 cot- 
 tage ?" said she, addressing Maitland, 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 ; for I see George is very im- 
 patient, and trying to make the horses the same." 
 
 " Of course not. Go back ! it was all the coach- 
 man's fault — took the wrong turning, and never 
 discovered his blunder till we were — I don't know 
 where."
 
 TONY BUTLER. 303 
 
 " Tilney, George— go on," said she ; then turn- 
 ing to Maitland, "And do you imagine that the 
 charming Sally Graham or the fascinating Eebecca 
 will understand such flimsy excuses as these, or 
 that the sturdy old Commodore will put up with 
 them?" 
 
 " I hope so, for their sakes at least ; for it vnR 
 save them a world of trouble to do so." 
 
 " Ungrateful as well as perfidious ! You were a 
 great favourite with the Grahams. Beck told me, 
 the night before they left the Abbey, that you were 
 the only ' elegant ' — exquisite she called it — she 
 ever met that wasn'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 o^^^l eyes, she'd never have believed that a man 
 with such a diamond ring, and such wonderful pen- 
 dants to his watch, could hook an eight-pound sal- 
 mon, 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 weren't exactly his style of man, nor precisely 
 what he'd choose "
 
 304 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 "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 indiscre- 
 tion, 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 Spanish fort, and the girls have refused — 
 let me see whom they have not refused ; but I'll 
 make them tell you, for we'll certainly call there 
 on our way back." 
 
 The malicious drollery with which she poured out 
 aU this had heightened her colour and given in- 
 creased brilliancy to her eyes. Instead of the lan- 
 guid delicacy which usually marked her features, they 
 shone now with animation and excitement, and be- 
 came in consequence far more beautiful. So striking 
 was the change, that Maitland paid little attention to 
 the words, while he gazed with rapture at the speaker.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 306 
 
 It must have been a very palpable admiration he 
 bestowed, for she drew down her veil with an im- 
 patient 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 confidant — you'll see that I can 
 be a marvel of discretion." 
 
 "Put up your veil again, and you may be as 
 maligne as you please." 
 
 " There ! yonder is Tilney," 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'll 
 take you a drive over there to-morrow. It's a very 
 
 VOL. L u
 
 306 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 nice thing, isn'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?" 
 
 " I think I recognise a conveyance I once had 
 the happiness to travel in. Isn'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 recognise the carriage and its two occu- 
 pants.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 TONY'S TROUBLES. 
 
 When Tony Butler met Mrs Trafford's carriage lie 
 was on his road, by a cross path, to the back en- 
 trance 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, accept- 
 ing 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 intelli- 
 gence not to be aware that, in any of the ordinary 
 and recognised paths in life, he must see himself 
 overtaken and left behind by almost all. What 
 were called the learned professions were strictly de- 
 barred to him. Had he even the means for the study 
 he would not have the qualities to pursue them. 
 He did not feel that he could take willingly to a
 
 308 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 " gen- 
 tlemen 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 society, and a very 
 projfitable traffic too, to him who knows a little more 
 of them than his neighbours. AVorst 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 thought of it with 
 reference to the time it occupied — as one of the 
 dreariest of all imaginable things. "This mono- 
 tony," added he, "will do for the fellow who has 
 seen everything 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'll be satisfied to sit down with a station that
 
 TONY BUTLER. 309 
 
 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, unmoved. 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 reflection. "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 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 
 doesn't much signify. I could fight for any one but 
 Yankees ! I think I'll say ' done.' This Maitland 
 is a great ' Don ' — has apparently fortune and sta- 
 tion. It can't be a mistake to sail in the same boat 
 with Mm. I'll certainly say 'done.'" With this 
 resolve he jumped out of bed, and wrote the follow- 
 ing brief note : — 
 
 "BuRNSiDE, Tuesday morning. 
 
 "Dear Sir, — I'll not take the three days you 
 gave me to consider your offer ; I accept it at once. 
 — Yours truly, " ToNY Butlee. 
 
 "Norman Maitland, Esq., 
 Lyle Abbey."
 
 310 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 " m 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'll kick Willis for nothing. I 
 don't suppose that this is the formal way of resign- 
 ing, but I take it they'll not be sorry to be quit of 
 me, and it will spare the two old coves in white 
 cravats all the trouble of having me plucked at the 
 examination. Poor Skefiy won't be pleased, though ; 
 he was to have ' coached me ' in foreign tongues and 
 the Eule of Three. Well, I'm glad I'm in for a line 
 of life where nobody asks about Colenso's Arith- 
 metic, nor has so much as heard of Ollendorfs 
 Method. Oh dear! how much happier the world 
 must have been when people weren't so confound- 
 edly well-informed !— so awfully brimful of all know- 
 ledge 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 ignorance and bliss — occupied him all the way, 
 as he walked over the hills to leave his letter at the 
 gate-lodge for Mr Maitland. 
 
 Eesisting 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 311 
 
 of late, and why he wasn'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 wouldn'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'll see to everything soon." 
 
 "That I'll not," muttered he to himself when 
 alone. "The smart hussar — the brave captain — 
 may try 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 doesn't cut a 
 somerset over his head, my name isn't Tony ! Let 
 us see, too, what he'll 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-plot ! There's one thing I'd like to be able 
 to do every morning of my life," thought he, in
 
 312 , TONY BUTLER. 
 
 sadder mood — "just to give Alice's chestnut mare 
 one canter, to make lier 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 saunter- 
 ings 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 greys — 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 hiU 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.
 
 TONY BUTLER. 313 
 
 To say the truth, Tony was somewhat ashamed of 
 himself for his long absence from the Abbey. If 
 it was not ingratitude, it had a look of it. They 
 knew nothing of what had passed between Mark 
 |ind 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 " greys ; " 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 ; indeed, 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 
 everything 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.
 
 314 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 Nor did Maitland's attitude assuage this anger ; 
 he lay back with a cool assumption of superiority 
 — an air of triumphant satisfaction — that seemed to 
 say. Each of us is in the place that befits him. 
 
 So overcome was he by passion, that even Alice's 
 invitation 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 apologise for him 
 — to explain away why he had or had not done 
 this, that, or t'other — ^^^as 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 re- 
 treating. "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'll get my letter back before it reach him." 
 With this" resolve he turned his steps back again
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 315 
 
 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 frag- 
 ments, 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 imj)atient all the day for your return." 
 
 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 tlu-ough him at 
 being addressed on a great square-shaped enve- 
 lope, " 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 sucli 
 a moment. It was a spoonful of brandy to a man 
 not far from fainting. 
 
 With all this, he didn't like his mother to see
 
 316 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 liow mucli 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 wiU 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 dinner, 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 aU, 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 317 
 
 his consequence. "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 pro- 
 tocols and treaties, but with fish-sauce or pickled 
 walnuts; the little sack — marked 'most important' 
 — being choke-full of Eussian cigarettes. Even 
 lawn and lawyers' wigs are occasionally the exter- 
 nal coverings to qualities that fall short of abso- 
 lute wisdom ; so that though Mrs Butler exclaimed, 
 " Wlio would have thought it ? " one more conver- 
 sant 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. 0., Sunday morning. 
 
 " ' Dear Butler, — What a fright you have given 
 us all, old fellow, to have levanted so suddenly,
 
 318 TONY BUTLEE. 
 
 leaving your traps with the waiter, as we first 
 thought, but, as we afterwards discovered, exchang- 
 ing them with one Eory 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 — "'Eory, however, would seem to 
 have a private scrape of his own to occupy him 
 now, for I found to-day that a policeman was wait- 
 ing all the morning to arrest liim, of which he seems 
 to have had timely notice, for he did not appear, 
 and "E. 960" says, with much solemnity, 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 trou- 
 bles. I'll write about this at once. ' More of all 
 this, however, when we meet, which I rejoice to say 
 will be soon. I have got fourteen days' leave, and 
 am going over to your immediate neighbourhood, 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
 
 TONY BUTLER. 319 
 
 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 ns 
 would most worthily represent 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 favourite dish, 
 or who passed the decanter she " afifectioned." Ima- 
 gine yourself talking, moving, sneezing, smiling, or 
 blowing your nose, with five thousand a-year on the 
 issue. Picture to your mind the tortures of a scru- 
 tiny that may take in anything from your com- 
 plexion to your character, and which, though satis- 
 fied with your morals, might discover "something 
 unpleasing about your mouth." 
 
 a ( Worst news of all, I hear that the great 
 Norman Maitland 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'U cut 
 us all out, and that the old lady would rather fancy 
 she made a graceful exit from life if this illustrious 
 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
 
 320 TONY BUTLER. 
 
 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 incon- 
 venience you ? Is your house full ? Most houses 
 are at this time o' year.' " 
 
 At this Tony laid down the letter and laughed 
 immoderately ; 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 droU, 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, quickly. " To bear 
 it well, one needn't laugh at it. At all events, what 
 answer are we to make him ?"
 
 TONY BUTLEK. 321 
 
 " 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 bath- 
 room. 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-somerset 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 per- 
 fect gentleman ; and though he's very short — only 
 so high ! — he looks a gentleman, too." 
 
 " T am not likely to forget all his kindness to 
 you, Tony," said she, feelingly. "If we could only 
 receive him suitably, 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 enter- 
 tainment : so just tell him to come, Tony ; but tell 
 him also what he's coming to. His room will be 
 pretty much like the bath-room, and the company 
 he'll meet afterwards very unlike what he saw at 
 the fine house." 
 
 " He'll take all in good part, or I'm much mis- 
 taken in him. So here goes for the answer : — 
 
 VOL. 1. X
 
 323 TONY BUTLEK. 
 
 " * Dear Skeff, — We live in a cottage with five 
 
 rooms. We have one maid-servant, and we dine at 
 
 two. If you have courage to face all this, you'll 
 
 have the heartiest of welcomes from my mother and 
 
 your sincere friend, 
 
 " ' Tony Butler. 
 
 " ' The mail will drop you at Coleraine, and I'll 
 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." 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM DLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH. 
 
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