Tony Butler Part 35

"The reason is that I 'm not going to be packed up in the top story, or given a bed in a barrack room. That fellow Raikes,--I 'll remember it to him next Christmas,--that fellow has gone and given the garden-house to that Mr. Maitland."

"Oh, is that all?" broke in Miss Graham.

"All, all! Why, what more would you have? Did you expect that he had told me to brush his coat or fetch his hot water? What the d----l do you mean by 'all'?"

"Then why don't you take Mrs. Chetwyn's rooms? They are on this floor.

She's going now. They are most comfortable, and have a south aspect: by the way she was just talking of Maitland; she knows all about him, and he is the celebrated Norman Maitland."

"Ah, let us hear that. I want to unearth the fellow if I only knew how,"

said he, taking a chair.

"There's nothing to unearth, papa," said the younger daughter. "Mrs.

Chetwyn says that there's not a man in England so courted and feted as he is; that people positively fight for him at country-houses; and it's a regular bait to one's company to say, 'We 're to have Maitland with us.'"

"And who is he?"

"She does n't know."

"What's his fortune?"

"She doesn't know."

"Where is it?"

"She's not sure. It must be somewhere abroad,--in India, perhaps."

"So that this old woman knows just as much as we do ourselves,--which is simply nothing, but that people go on asking this man about to this dinner and that shooting just because they met him somewhere else, and he amused them."

"'T is pretty clear that he has money, wherever it comes from," said Miss Graham, authoritatively. "He came to Hamilton Court with four hunters and three hackneys, the like of which were never seen in the county."

"Tell papa about his yacht," broke in the younger.

"I don't want to hear about his yacht; I 'd rather learn why he turned me out of my old quarters."

"In all probability he never heard they were yours. Don't you know well what sort of house this is,--how everybody does what he likes?"

"Why didn't Alice Lyle--Mrs. Trafford, I mean--tell him that I always took these rooms."

"Because probably she was thinking of something else," said Miss Graham, significantly. "Mrs. Chetwyn watched them as they drove up, and she declared that, if Maitland had n't his hand in her m.u.f.f, her eyes have greatly deceived her."

"And what if he had?"

"Simply that it means they are on very excellent terms. Not that Alice will make any real conquest there: for, as Mrs. Chetwyn said, 'he has seen far too many of these fine-lady airs and graces to be taken by them;' and she added, 'A frank, outspoken, natural girl, like your sister there, always attracts men of this stamp.'"

"Why didn't he come over on Wednesday, then? It was his own appointment, and we waited dinner till seven o'clock, and have not had so much as one line--no, not one line of apology."

"Perhaps he was ill, perhaps he was absent; his note might have miscarried. At all events, I 'd wait till we meet him, and see what explanation he 'll make."

"Yes, papa," chimed in Beck, "just leave things alone. 'A strange hand on the rod never hooked the salmon,' is a saying of your own."

"There's that stupid fellow brought the car round to the door; just as if our splendid equipage had n't attracted criticism enough on our arrival," said Miss Graham, as she opened the window, and by a gesture more eloquent than graceful motioned to the servant to return to the stableyard; "and there come the post-horses," added she, "for the Chetwyns. Go now and secure her rooms before you 're too late;" and, rather forcibly aiding her counsel, she bundled the old Commodore out of the chamber, and resumed the unpacking of the wardrobe.

"I declare, I don't know what he'll interfere in next," said Miss Graham.

"Yes," said Beck, with a weary sigh, "I wish he'd go back to the American war, and what we did or did not do at Ticonderoga."

Leaving these young ladies to discuss in a spirit more critical than affectionate the old Commodore's ways and habits, let us for a moment return to Maitland who had admitted young Lyle after two unsuccessful attempts to see him.

"It's no easy matter to get an audience of you," said Mark. "I have been here I can't say how many times, always to hear Fenton lisp out. In the bath sir."

"Yes. I usually take my siesta that way. With plenty of eau-de-Cologne in it there 'a no weakening effect. Well, and what is going on here? any people that I know? I suppose not."

"I don't think it very likely: they are all country families, except a few refreshers from the garrison at Newry and Dundalk."

"And what do they do?"

"Pretty much the same sort of thing you 'd find in an English country-house. There 's some not very good shooting. They make riding-parties. They have archery when it's fine, and billiards when it rains; but they always dine very well at seven, that much I can promise you."

"Not such a cook as your father's, Lyle, I 'm certain."

"Perhaps not," said Mark, evidently flattered by the compliment. "But the cellar here is unequalled. Do you know that in the mere shadowy possibility of being one day her heir, I groan every time I see that glorious Madeira placed on the table before a set of fellows that smack their lips and say, 'It's good sherry, but a trifle too sweet for my taste.'"

"And this same heritage,--how do the chances look?"

"I shall want your power of penetration to say that. One day the old woman will take me aside and consult me about fifty things; and the next she'll say, 'Perhaps we'd better make no changes, Mark. Heaven knows what ideas they may have who 'll come after me.' She drives me half distracted with these capricious turns."

"It is provoking, no doubt of it."

"I 'd not care so much if I thought it was to fall to Bella; though, to be sure, no good-looking girl needs such a fortune as this. Do you know that the timber thrown down by the late gales is worth eight thousand pounds? and Harris the steward tells me it's not one fourth of what ought to be felled for the sake of the young wood."

"And she has the whole and sole disposal of all this?"

"Every stick of it, and some six thousand acres besides!"

"I 'd marry her if I were you. I declare I would."

"Nonsense! this is a little too absurd."

"Amram married his aunt, and I never heard that she had such a dower; not to say that the relationship in the present case is only a myth."

"Please to remember that she is about thirty years older than my mother."

"I bear it most fully in mind, and I scout the vulgar impertinences of those who ridicule these marriages. I think there is something actually touching in the watchful care and solicitude of a youthful husband for the venerable object of his affections."

"Well, you shall not point the moral by my case, I promise you," said Mark, angrily.

"That sublime spectacle that the G.o.ds are said to love--a great man struggling with adversity--is so beautifully depicted in these unions."