Tony Butler Part 32

"It will be on the table in a few minutes, Tony; but let us hear what Her Majesty wants with you."

"It's nothing that won't keep till I have eaten my 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 all, Tony. It's not from Her Majesty at all. It begins 'Dear Butler.'"

"It's from Skeffy," cried he, taking it from her hands, "and is far more interesting to me than if it came from the Premier."

Mrs. Butler sat down, disappointed and sad. It was a reminiscence of long ago, that formally shaped doc.u.ment, with its big seal, reminding her of days when the Colonel--her Colonel--used to receive despatches from the War Office,--grave doc.u.ments of which he seldom spoke, but whose importance she could read in the thoughtful lines of his face, and which always impressed her with his 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 amba.s.sador's bag is filled not with protocols and treaties, but with fish-sauce or pickled walnuts; the little sack--marked "most important"--being choke-full of Russian cigarettes. Even lawn and lawyers' wigs are occasionally the external coverings to qualities that fall short of absolute wisdom; so that though Mrs. Butler exclaimed, "Who would have thought it?" one more conversant with life would have felt less surprise and less disappointment.

A laugh from Tony--almost a hearty laugh--startled her from her musings.

"What is it, Tony dear?" asked she,--"what is it that amuses you?"

"I'll read it all for you, mother. It's from Skeffy, and you 'd think you heard him talking, it's so like him.

"'F. O., Sunday morning.

"'Dear Butler,--What a fright you have given us all, old fellow, to have levanted so suddenly, leaving your traps with the waiter, as we first thought, but, as we afterwards discovered, exchanging them with one Rory Quin, who, apparently sorry for his bargain, came for three successive mornings to the hotel to find out your present whereabouts.'

"Do you understand him, mother?" asked Tony at this.

"Partly,--go on."

He resumed: "'Rory, however, would seem to have a private sc.r.a.pe of his own to occupy him now, for I found to-day that a policeman was waiting all the morning to arrest him, of which he seems to have had timely notice, for he did not appear, and "R. 960" says, with much 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 troubles. 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 neighborhood, to visit an aunt, or a cousin, or a grandmother,--if she likes,--a certain Mrs. Maxwell of Tilney, who has lots of cash, and no one to leave it to,--five thousand a year in estate; I don't know what in the Threes; and is, they tell me, weighing all her relatives, real or imaginary, in the balance of her esteem, to decide who is to be the Lord of Tilney, and which of us would most worthily represent 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 compet.i.tive dinner of both s.e.xes, and the old lady watching who ate of her favorite dish, or who pa.s.sed the decanter she "affectioned." Imagine 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 scrutiny that may take in anything, from your complexion to your character, and which, though satisfied with your morals, might discover "something unpleasing about your mouth."

"'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 'll cut us all out, and that the old lady would rather fancy she made a graceful exit from life if this ill.u.s.trious swell were to play chief mourner to her. By the way, do you know the man I 'm talking of? He's a monstrous clever fellow, and a great mystery to boot. I know him very slightly; indeed, so slightly that I'm not sure he knows_ me_.

"'As it would be invaluable to me to have a word of counsel from you, knowing nothing, or next to nothing, of my dear relative, I mean to start directly for you at once, and have one day with you before I go on to Tilney. Will this bore you, or inconvenience you? Is your house full?

Most houses are at this time o' year.'"

At this Tony laid down the letter and laughed immoderately; not so, however, his mother. She turned her head away, and sat, with her hands closely locked, in silence.

"Is n't it good,--is n't it downright droll, mother, to ask if our house be so full of guests we have no room for another? I declare, though it has a sore side to it, the question overcomes me with its absurdity."

"That's not the way I 'm looking at it, Tony," said she, sadly.

"But there's no other way to look at it. If one can't take that view of it, one would--" He stopped suddenly, for he saw the old lady lift her handkerchief to her eyes, and hold it there. "But you are right, mother," said he, quickly. "To bear it well, one need n't laugh at it.

At all events, what answer are we to make him?"

"Finish the letter first."

"Ah, this is all about putting him up--anywhere--in a dressing-room or a closet. 'At Carlscourt, last year, they had nothing to give me but a bathroom. They used to quiz me about sleeping in "marble halls," for I lay in the bath.'"

"He seems a good-tempered creature," said the old lady, who could not repress a laugh this time.

"The best in the world; and such spirits! I wish you saw him do the back-somersault over a chair, or the frog's leap across a table. For all that, mother," said he, with a change of tone, "he's a perfect gentleman; and though he's very short,--only so high,--he looks a gentleman, too."

"I am not likely to forget all his kindness to you, Tony," said she, feelingly. "If we could only receive him 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 entertainment: so just tell him to come, Tony; but tell him, also, what he's coming to. His room will be pretty much like the bathroom, and the company he'll meet afterwards very unlike what he saw at the fine house."

"He 'll take all in good part, or I 'm much mistaken in him. So here goes for the answer:--

"'Dear Skeff,--We live in a cottage with five rooms. We have one maidservant, and we dine at two. If you have courage to face all this, you'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."

CHAPTER XX. THE MINISTER'S VISIT

While Tony was absent that morning from home, Mrs. Butler had a visit from Dr. Stewart; he came over, he said, to see Tony, and ask the news of what he had done in England. "I hope, ma'am," said he,--and there was something dry and reserved in his manner,--"I hope, ma'am, your son has brought you good tidings of his late journey. A big city is a big temptation, and we dinna want temptations in this world of ours."

"I know it well, doctor," said she, with a sigh; "and if it had been any other than Tony--Ah, doctor! why do you shake your head? you make me think you 've heard something or other. What is it, sir?"

"It's just nothing at all, Mrs. Butler, but your own fears, and very proper fears too they are, for a young lad that goes away from home for the first time in his life, and to such a place too. Ah me!" cried he, in a soil of apostrophe, "it 's not so easy to be in grace down about Charing Cross and the Hay market."

"You 're just frightening me, Dr. Stewart; that's what it is you are doing."

"And I say it again, ma'am, it's yourself is the cause o' it all. But tell me what success he has had,--has he seen Sir Harry Elphinstone?"

"That he has, and seen a greater than Sir Harry; he has come back with a fine place, doctor; he's to be one of the Queen's--I forget whether they call them couriers or messengers--that bring the state despatches all over the world; and, as poor dear Tony says, it's a place that was made for him,--for they don't want Greek or Latin, or any more book-learning than a country gentleman should have.

"What are you sighing about, Dr. Stewart? There's nothing to sigh over getting five, maybe six, hundred a year."

"I was not sighing; I was only thinkin'. And when is he to begin this new life?"

"If you are sighing over the fall it is for a Butler, one of his kith and kin, taking a very humble place, you may just spare your feelings, doctor, for there are others as good as himself in the same employ."

"And what does Sir Arthur say to it, ma'am?" asked he, as it were to divert her thoughts into another course.

"Well, if you must know, Dr. Stewart," said she, drawing herself up and smoothing down her dress with dignity, "we have ventured to take this step without consulting Sir Arthur or any of his family."

A somewhat long silence ensued. At last she said: "If Tony was at home, doctor, he 'd tell you how kindly his father's old friend received him,--taking up stories of long ago, and calling him Watty, just as he used to do. And so, if they did not give my poor boy a better place, it was because there was nothing just ready at the moment, perhaps,--or nothing to fit him; for, as Sir Harry said laughingly, 'We can't make you a bishop, I fear.'"