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Tony Butler. Lever Charles James
Читать онлайн.Название Tony Butler
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Автор произведения Lever Charles James
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
“Not if you were to say frankly that we wanted him, and could n’t get on without him, papa,” said Alice. “I ‘d have no shame in saying that we are perfectly helpless without his skill, his courage, his ready wit, and his good nature.”
“Why not secure all those perfections beyond risk, Alice?” said Sir Arthur, laughing.
“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 I 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.”
“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?”
“Nothing 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 unlikely 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. Butler’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 because the carriage-road is so bad. The drive down through that forest of fern and reeds is like a horrid nightmare on me,” said Lady Lyle.
“Well, I think I can apologize for your absence without telling her that she lives in an unapproachable wilderness,” 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 anything 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. Without 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 shrewdness 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 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 counsels and delicately conveyed advice as uncalled-for interference, or worse.
It was after much consideration he saw himself 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 repeat it for the third time when the door was opened.
“Is your mistress at home, Jeanie?” said he, recognizing with a smile the girl’s courtesy 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 favor 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.”
“Mr. Anthony, is he at home?” asked he, curious to remark the effect of his question.
“He’s no just at name 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 ‘bracken,’ and might have missed him.”
A little dry nod of the head, to acknowledge that this or anything else was possible, was all that his speech elicited.
“Say that I was very sorry, Jeanie, that Mrs. Butler could not see me, and sorrier for the reason; but that I hope tomorrow or next day to be more fortunate. Not,” added he, after a second thought, “that what I wanted to speak of is important, except to myself; don’t forget this, Jeanie.”
“I winna forget,” said she; and courtesying again, closed the door. Sir Arthur rode slowly back to report that his embassy had failed.
CHAPTER IV. SOME NEW ARRIVALS
Day after day went over, and no tidings of Maitland. 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 what 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 in toilette, and such details of the Castle drawing-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 daughter. There were Colonel Hoyle and Mrs. Hoyle, from regimental head-quarters, 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 Whigs; a sort of politician in great favor with the North of Ireland, and usually supposed to have much influence with both parties. There were Masseys from Tipperary, and M’Clintocks from Louth; and, lastly, herald of their approach, three large coffin-shaped trunks, undeniably of sea-origin, with the words “Cap. Gambier Graham, R.N.,” 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-humoredly, 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