Tony Butler Part 34

"Oh, Tony!"

"It's all very well saying, 'Oh, Tony;' but I tell you, mother, a stupid fellow ought never to be told two ways for anything: never say to him, you can do it in this fas.h.i.+on or in that; but, there's the road straight before you; take care you never go off it."

"Mr. Maitland made that same remark to me last week."

"Then don't tell it to me, for I hate him. By the way, there's that gun of his. I forgot to take it back to Lyle Abbey. I think it was precious cool in him to suppose a stranger--a perfect stranger, as I am--would accept a present from him."

"If you are going to the Abbey, Tony, I wish you 'd leave these books there, and thank my Lady for all her kind attentions to me; and say a word to Sir Arthur, too, to excuse my not seeing him when he called.

Tell Gregg, the gardener, not to send me any more vegetables now; it's the scarce season, and they 'll be wanting them for themselves; and if you should chance to see Mr. Lockyer, the steward, just mention to him that the new sluice is just no good at all, and when the rain comes heavy, and the mill is not working, the water comes up to the kitchen door. Are you minding me, Tony?"

"I 'm not sure that I am," said he, moodily, as he stood examining the lock of the well-finished rifle. "I was to tell Lady Lyle something about cabbages or the mill-race,--which was it?"

"You are not to make a fool of yourself, Tony," said she, half vexed and half amused. "I 'll keep my message for another day."

"And you'll do well," said he; "besides, I'm not very sure that I 'll go further than the gate-lodge;" and so saying, he took his hat, and, with the rifle on his shoulder, strolled out of the room.

"Ah! he 's more like his father every day!" sighed she, as she looked after him; and if there was pride in the memory, there was some pain also.

CHAPTER XXI. A COMFORTABLE COUNTRY-HOUSE

If a cordial host and a graceful hostess can throw a wondrous charm over the hospitalities of a house, there is a feature in those houses where neither host nor hostess is felt which contributes largely to the enjoyment of the a.s.sembled company. I suspect, indeed, that republics work more smoothly domestically than nationally. Tilney was certainly a case in point. Mrs. Maxwell was indeed the owner,--the demesne, the stables, the horses, the gardens, the fish-ponds, were all hers; but somehow none of the persons under her roof felt themselves her guests.

It was an establishment in which each lived as he liked, gave his own orders, and felt very possibly more at home, in the pleasant sense of the phrase, than in his own house. Dinner alone was a "fixture;"

everything else was at the caprice of each. The old lady herself was believed to take great pride in the perfect freedom her guests enjoyed; and there was a story current of a whole family who partook of her hospitalities for three weeks, meeting her once afterwards in a watering-place, and only recognizing her as an old woman they saw at Tilney. Other tales there were of free comments of strangers made upon the household, the dinners, and such-like to herself, in ignorance of who she was, which she enjoyed vastly, and was fond of relating, in strict confidence, to her few intimates.

If there were a number of pleasant features in such a household, there were occasionally little trifling drawbacks that detracted slightly from its perfect working,--mere specks in the sun, it is true, and, after all, only such defects as are inseparable from all things where humanity enters and influences. One of these--perhaps the most marked one--was the presumption of certain _habitues_ to install themselves in certain rooms, which, from long usage, they had come to regard as their own.

These prescriptive rights were so well understood that the frequenters of Tilney no more thought of disturbing them than they would of contesting their neighbors' t.i.tle-deeds, or appropriating to themselves some portions of their wardrobes. Occasionally, however, it did happen that some guest of more than ordinary pretension arrived,--some individual whose rank or station placed him above these conventionalities,--and in such cases some deviations from ordinary routine would occur, but so quietly and peacefully withal as never to disturb the uniform working of the domestic machinery.

"I find my rooms always ready for me here," said Mrs. Trafford; "and I have no doubt that Mrs. Maxwell has given orders about yours, Mr.

Maitland; but it's your own fault, remember, if you 're not lodged to your liking."

Maitland was not long in making his choice. A little garden pavilion, which was connected with the house by a gla.s.s corridor, suited him perfectly; it combined comfort and quiet and isolation,--who could ask for more?--within an easy access of society when it was wanted. There was the vast old garden, as much orchard and shrubbery as garden, to stroll in un.o.bserved; and a little bathroom into which the water trickled all day long with a pleasant drip, drip, that sounded most soothingly.

"It's the Commodore's favorite place, sir, this garden-house," said the butler, who did the honors to Maitland, "and it's only a chance that he's not here to claim it. There was some mistake about his invitation, and I suppose he's not coming."

"Yes, I pa.s.sed him a couple of miles off; he 'll be here almost immediately."

"We 'll put him up on the second floor, sir; the rooms are all newly done up, and very handsome."

"I 'm sorry if I inconvenience him, Mr. Raikes," said Maitland, languidly; "but I've got here now, and I'm tired, and my traps are half taken out; and, in fact, I should be sorrier still to have to change.

You understand me,--don't you?"

"Perfectly, sir; and my mistress, too, gave orders that you were to have any room you pleased; and your own hours, too, for everything."

"She is most kind. When can I pay my respects to her?"

"Before dinner, sir, is the usual time. All the new company meet her in the drawing-room. Oh, there's the Commodore now; I hear his voice, and I declare they 're bringing his trunks here, after all I said."

The old sailor was now heard, in tones that might have roused a main-deck, calling to the servants to bring down all his baggage to the pavilion, to heat the bath, and send him some sherry and a sandwich.

"I see you 're getting ready for me, Raikes," said he, as the somewhat nervous functionary appeared at the door.

"Well, indeed, Commodore Graham, these rooms are just taken."

"Taken! and by whom? Don't you know, and have n't you explained, that they are always mine?"

"We thought up to this morning, Commodore, that you were not coming."

"Who are 'we,'--you and the housemaids, eh? Tell me who are 'we,' sir?"

"My mistress was greatly distressed, sir, at George's mistake, and she sent him back late last night."

"Don't bother me about that. Who's here,--who has got my quarters, and where is he? I suppose it's a man."

"It's a Mr. Norman Maitland."

"By George, I'd have sworn it!" cried the Commodore, getting purple with pa.s.sion. "I knew it before you spoke. Go in and say that Commodore Graham would wish to speak with him."

"He has just lain down, sir; he said he did n't feel quite well, and desired he mightn't be disturbed."

"He's not too ill to hear a message. Go in and say that Commodore Graham wishes to have one word with him. Do you hear me, sir?"

A flash of the old man's eye and a tighter grasp of his cane--very significant in their way--sent Mr. Raikes on his errand, from which, after a few minutes, he came back, saying, in a low whisper, "He's asleep, sir,--at least I think so; for the bedroom door is locked, and his breathing comes very long."

"This is about the most barefaced, the most outrageously impudent--" He stopped, checked by the presence of the servant, which he had totally forgotten. "Take my traps back into the hall,--do you hear me?--the hall."

"If you 'd allow me, sir, to show the yellow rooms upstairs, with the bow window--"

"In the attics, I hope?"

"No, sir,--just over the mistress's own room on the second floor."

"I 'll save you that trouble, Mr. Raikes; send Corrie here, my coachman,--send him here at once."

While Mr. Raikes went, or affected to go, towards the stables,--a mission which his dignity secretly scorned,--the Commodore called out after him, "And tell him to give the mare a double feed, and put on the harness again,--do you hear me?--to put the harness on her."

Mr. Raikes bowed respectfully; but had the Commodore only seen his face, he would have seen a look that said, "What I now do must not be taken as a precedent,--I do it, as the lawyers say, 'without prejudice.'"

In a glow of hot temper, to which the ascent of two pairs of stairs contributed something, the old Commodore burst into the room where his daughters were engaged unpacking. Sofas, tables, and chairs were already covered with articles of dress, rendering his progress a matter of very nice steering through the midst of them.

"Cram them in again,--stow them all away!" cried he; "we 're going back."

"Back where?" asked the elder, in a tone of dignified resistance years of strong opposition had taught her.

"Back to Port-Graham, if you know such a place. I 've ordered the car round to the door, and I mean to be off in a quarter of an hour."

"But why--what has happened? what's the reason for this?"