Tony Butler Part 42

I 'll keep just to fact, and leave the commentary on this to yourself. She crosses the drawing-room,--the whole width of the large drawing-room,--and, sweeping grandly past us in that fine Queen-of-Sheba style she does so well, she throws her head back,--it was that stupid portrait-painter, Hillyer, told her 'it gave action to the features,'--and says, 'Take me into dinner, will you?' But she was foiled; old Mrs. Maxwell had already bespoke him. I hope you 're satisfied now, Bella, that this is no dream of mine."

"But I cannot see any great mischief in it, either."

"Possibly not. I have not said that there was. Sally 's no fool, however, and her remark was,--'There 's nothing so treacherous as a widow.'"

Bella could not contain herself any longer, but laughed heartily at this profound sentiment.

"Of course we do not expect you to see this with our eyes, Bella, but we're not blind, for all that. Later on came the project for fetching over Tony Butler, when Alice suggested that Mr. Maitland was to drive me over to the Burns ide--"

"Was that so very ungenerous, then?"

"In the way it was done, my dear,--in the way it was done. In that ha, ha, ha! manner, as though to say, 'Had n't you both better go off on a lark to-morrow that will set us all talking of you?'"

"No, no! I'll not listen to this," cried Bella, angrily; "these are not motives to attribute to my sister."

"Ask herself; let her deny it, that's all; but, as Sally says, 'There 's no playing against a widow, because she knows every card in your hand.'"

"I really had no idea they were so dangerous," said Bella, recovering all her good-humor again.

"You may, perhaps, find it out one day. Mind, I 'm not saying Alice is not very handsome, and has not the biggest blue eyes in the world, which she certainly does not make smaller in the way she uses them; or that any one has a finer figure, though some do contrive to move through a room without catching in the harp or upsetting the china. Men, I take it, are the best judges, and they call her perfection."

"They cannot think her more beautiful than she is."

"Perhaps not, dear; and as you are so like as to be constantly mistaken--"

"Oh, Beck! surely this is not fair," said she, and so imploringly that the other's voice softened down as she said,--"I never meant to be rude; but my head is gone wild to-day; for, after all, when matters had gone so far, Alice had no right to come in in this fas.h.i.+on; and, as Sally says, 'Why did she never encourage him till she saw his attentions addressed to another?'"

"I never perceived that she gave Mr. Maitland any encouragement. Yes, you may hold up your hands, Beck, and open your eyes very wide; but I repeat what I have said."

"That's a matter of taste, I suppose," said Beck, with some irritation.

"There are various sorts of encouragements: as Sally says, 'A look will go further with one than a lock of your hair with another.'"

"But, really, Sally would seem to have a wisdom like Solomon's on these subjects," said Bella.

"Yes; and what's more, she has acquired it without any risk or peril.

She had neither to drive half over a county with a gentleman alone, or pa.s.s a good share of a night walking with him in the alleys of a garden."

"What do you mean by this?" asked Bella, angrily.

"Ask Alice; she 'll be here, I suppose, this evening; and I 'm sure she 'll be delighted to satisfy all your sisterly anxiety."

"But one word, Beck,--just one word before you go."

"Not a syllable. I have said now what I rigidly promised Sally not to mention when I came in here. You got it out of me in a moment of irritation, and I know well what's in store for me when I confess it,--so good-bye."

"But, Beck--"

"Don't make yourself cough, dear; lie down and keep your shawl round you. If I 'd thought you were so feverish, I 'd not have come over to torment you,--good-bye;" and, resisting all Bella's entreaties and prayers, Beck arose and left the room.

CHAPTER XXVI. BESIDE THE HEARTH

As Tony sat at tea with his mother, Janet rushed in to say that Dr.

Stewart had just come home with his daughter, and that she seemed very weak and ill,--"daunie-like," as Janet said, "and naething like the braw la.s.sie that left this twa years ago. They had to help her out o' the stage; and if it hadna been that Mrs. Harley had gi'en her a gla.s.s o'

gooseberry wine, she wad hae fainted." Janet saw it all, for she had gone into Coleraine, and the doctor gave her a seat back with himself and his daughter.

"Poor girl! And is she much changed?" asked Mrs. Butler.

"She's no that changed that I wudna know her," said Janet, "and that's all. She has no color in her cheeks nor mirth in her een; and instead of her merry laugh, that set everybody off, she's just got a little faint smile that's mair sad than onything else."

"Of course she's weak; she's had a bad fever, and she's now come off a long journey," said Tony, in a sort of rough discontented voice.

"Ay," muttered Janet; "but I doubt she 'll never be the same she was."

"To be sure you do," broke in Tony, rudely. "You would n't belong to your county here if you did n't look at the blackest side of everything.

This end of our island is as cheerful in its population as it is in scenery; and whenever we have n't a death in a cabin, we stroll out to see if there's no sign of a s.h.i.+pwreck on the coast."

"No such a thing, Master Tony. He that made us made us like ither folk; and we 're no worse or better than our neighbors."

"What about the letters, Janet? Did you tell the postmaster that they 're very irregular down here?" asked Mrs. Butler.

"I did, ma'am, and he said ye 're no wa.r.s.e off than others; that when the Lord sends floods, and the waters rise, human means is a' that we have; and if the boy couldna swim, the leather bag wi' the letters would hae gi'en him little help."

"And could n't he have told ye all that without canting--"

"Tony! Tony!" broke in his mother, reprovingly. "This is not the way to bear these things, and I will not hear it."

"Don't be angry, little mother," said he, taking her hand between both his own. "I know how rough and ill-tempered I have grown of late; and though it frets me sorely, I can no more throw it off than I could a fever."

"You 'll be soon yourself again, my poor Tony. Your dear father had his days when none dare go near him but myself; and I remember well Sir Archy Cole, who was the General, and commanded in Stirling, saying to me, 'I wish, Mrs. Butler, you would get me the sick-return off Wat's table, for he's in one of his tantrums to-day, and the adjutant has not courage to face him.' Many and many a time I laughed to myself over that."

"And did you tell this to my father?"

"No, Tony," said she, with a little dry laugh, "I didn't do that; the Colonel was a good man, and a G.o.d-fearing man; but if he had thought that anything was said or done because of certain traits or marks in his own nature, he 'd have been little better than a tiger."

Tony pondered, or seemed to ponder, over her words, and sat for some time with his head between his hands. At last he arose hastily, and said, "I think I'll go over to the Burnside and see the doctor, and I 'll take him that brace of birds I shot to-day."

"It's a cold night, Tony."

"What of that, mother? If one waits for fine weather in this climate, I 'd like to know when he 'd go out."

"There, you are railing again, Tony; and you must not fall into it as a habit, as people do with profane swearing, so that they cannot utter a word without blaspheming."

"Well, the country is beautiful; the weather is more so; the night is a summer one, and I myself am the most jolly, light-hearted young fellow from this to anywhere you like. Will that do, little mother?" and he threw his arm around her, and kissed her fondly. "They 've got a colt up there at Sir Arthur's that no one can break; but if you saw him in the paddock, you 'd say there was the making of a strong active horse in him; and Wylie, the head groom, says he 'd just let him alone, for that some horses 'break themselves.' Do you know, mother, I half suspect I am myself one of these unruly cattle, and the best way would be never to put a cavesson on me?"

Mrs. Butler had not the vaguest conception of what a caves-son meant, but she said, "I'll not put that nor anything like it on you, Tony; and I 'll just believe that the son of a loyal gentleman will do nothing to dishonor a good name."

"That's right; there you've hit it, mother; now we understand each other," cried he, boldly. "I'm to tell the doctor that we expect him and Dolly to dine with us on Monday, ain't I?"