Tony Butler Part 53

"A parrot, Skeflfy!"

"For Mrs. Maxwell, you dog: she loves parrots, and I gave ten guineas for that beggar, because they a.s.sured me he could positively keep up a conversation; and the only thing he _can_ say is, 'Don't you wish you may get it?'"

No sooner had the bird heard the words than he screamed them out with a wild and scornful cry that made them sound like a bitter mockery.

"There,--that's at me," whispered Skeflfy,--"at _me_ and _my_ chance of Tilney. I 'm half inclined to wring his neck when I hear it."

"Are you looking for any one, Harris?" asked Tony of a servant in livery who had just ridden into the yard.

"Yes, sir; I have a letter from my mistress for a gentleman that was to have come by the mail."

"Here he is," said Tony, as he glanced at the address. "This is Mr.

Skefflngton Darner."

While Skeffy broke the seal, Tony muttered in his ear, "Mind, old fellow, you are to come to us before you go to Tilney, no matter how pressing she may be."

"Here's a business," said Skeffy; "as well as I can make out her old pothooks, it is that she can't receive me. 'My dear,'--she first wrote 'Nephew,' but it's smudged out,--'My dear Cousin Darner, I am much distressed to tell you that you must not come here. It is the scarlatina, which the doctors all think highly infectious, though we burn cinnamon and that other thing through all the rooms. My advice would be to go to Harrogate, or some nice place, to amuse yourself, and I enclose this piece of thin paper.' Where is it, though?" said he, opening the letter and shaking it "Just think of the old woman forgetting to put up the enclosure!"

"Try the envelope!" cried Tony, eagerly; but, no, the envelope was also empty, and it was plain enough she had omitted it.

Skeffy read on: "'I had a very pretty pony for you here; and I remember Lydia Darner told me how nice you looked riding, with the long curls down your back.' Why, that was five-and-twenty years ago!" cried he, with a scream of laughter,--"just fancy, Tony!" and he ran his fingers through his hair. "How am I ever to keep up the illusion with this crop!

'But,'"--he went on to read,--"'but I suppose I shall not see that now.

I shall be eighty-one next November. Mind that you drink my health on the 22nd, if I be alive. I could send you the pony if you thought it would not be too expensive to keep him in London. Tilney is looking beautiful, and the trees are budding as if it were spring. Drop me a line before you leave the neighborhood; and believe me, your affectionate G.o.dmother,

"'Dinah Maxwell.'

"I think I had better say I'll send an answer," said Skeffy, as he crumpled up the letter; "and as to the enclosure--"

A wild scream and some unintelligible utterance broke from the parrot at this instant.

"Yes, you beggar, 'you wish I may get it' By the way, the servant can take that fellow back with him; I am right glad to be rid of him."

"It's the old adage of the ill wind," said Tony, laughing.

"How so? What do you mean?"

"I mean that _your_ ill-luck is _our_ good fortune; for as you can't go to Tilney, you'll have to stay the longer with us."

Skeffy seized his hand and gave it a cordial shake, and the two young fellows looked fully and frankly at each other, as men do look before the game of life has caught too strong a hold upon their hearts, and taught them over-anxiety to rise winners from it.

"Now, then, for your chateau," said Skeffy, as he leaped up on the car, already half hidden beneath his luggage.

"Our chateau is a thatched cabin," said Tony, blushing in spite of all his attempts to seem at ease. "It is only a friend would have heart to face its humble fare."

Not heeding, if he even heard the remark, Skeffy rattled on about everything,--past, present, and future; talked of their jolly dinner at Richmond, and of each of their companions on that gay day; asked the names of the various places they pa.s.sed on the road, what were the usual fortunes of the proprietors, how they spent them; and, seldom waiting for the answer, started some new query, to be forgotten in its turn.

"It is a finer country to ride over," said Tony, anxious to say something favorable for his locality, "than to look at. It is not pretty, perhaps, but there's plenty of gra.s.s, and no end of stone walls to jump, and in the season there's some capital trout-fishing too."

"Don't care a copper for either. I'd rather see a new pantomime than the best stag-hunt in Europe. I 'd rather see Tom Salter do the double spring backwards than I 'd see them take a whale."

"I 'm not of your mind, then," said Tony. "I 'd rather be out on the hillside of a dull, good-scenting day,--well mounted, of course,--and hear the dogs as they rushed yelping through the cover."

"Yoics, yoics, yoics! I saw it all at Astley's, and they took a gate in rare style. But, I say, what is that tower yonder, topping the trees?"

"That is Lyle Abbey,--Sir Arthur Lyle's place."

"Lyle,--Lyle. There was such a picture in the Exhibition last year of two sisters, Maud, or Alice, or Bella Lyle, and another, by Watts. I used to go every morning, before I went down to the office, to have a look at them, and I never was quite certain which I was in love with."

"They are here! they are Sir Arthur's daughters."

"You don't say so! And do you know them, Tony?"

"As well as if they were my sisters."

"Ain't I in luck!" cried Skeffy, in exultation. "I'd have gone to Tarnoff,--that's the place Holmes was named consul at,--and wrote back word that it did n't exist, and that the geography fellows were only hoaxing the office! just fancy, hoaxing the office! Hulloa!--what have we here? A four-horse team, by all that's stunning."

"Mrs. Trafford's. Draw up at the side of the road till they pa.s.s, Peter," said Tony, hurriedly. The servant on the box of the carriage had, however, apparently announced Tony Butler's presence, for the postilions slackened their pace, and came to a dead halt a few paces in front of the car.

"My mistress, sir, would be glad to speak to you," said the servant, approaching Tony.

"Is she alone, Coles?" asked he, as he descended from the car.

"Yes, sir."

Somewhat rea.s.sured by this, but at the same time not a little agitated, Tony drew nigh the carriage. Mrs. Trafford was wrapped up in a large fur mantle,--the day was a cold one,--and lay back without making any movement to salute, except a slight bend of the head as he approached.

"I have to apologize for stopping you," said she, coldly; "but I had a message to give you from Mr. Maitland, who left this a couple of days ago."

"Is he gone,--gone for good?" asked Tony, not really knowing what he said.

"I don't exactly know what 'for good' means," said she, smiling faintly; "but I believe he has not any intention to return here. His message was to say that, being much pressed for time, he had not an opportunity to reply to your note."

"I don't think it required an answer," broke in Tony, sternly.

"Perhaps not as regarded you, but possibly it did as respected himself."

"I don't understand you."

"What I mean is, that, as you had declined his offer, you might possibly, from inadvertence or any other cause, allude to it; whereas he expressly wished that the subject should never be mentioned."

"You were apparently very much in his confidence?" said Tony, fixing his eyes steadily on her.

"When I learn by what right you ask me that question, I 'll answer it,"

said she, just as defiantly.

Tony's face became crimson, and he could not utter a word. At last he stammered out, "I have a friend here,--Mr. Darner: he is just come over to pay a visit at Tilney, and Mrs. Maxwell sends him a note to say that they are all ill there."

"Only Bella, and she is better."