Tony Butler Part 48

"That must be a matter of opinion. At all events, your secret is safe, for the old man has totally forgotten all that occurred last night between you; and lest any clew to it should remain, I carried away the beginning of the letter he was writing. Here it is."

"How thoughtfully done!" said he, as he took the paper and read aloud: "'Dear Triphook, come over and help me to a shot at a rascal'--not civil, certainly--'at a rascal; that because he calls himself--' It was well he got no further," added he, with a faint smile.

"A good, bold hand it is too for such an old man. I declare, Mr.

Maitland, I think your usual luck must have befriended you here. The fingers that held the pen so steadily might have been just as unshaken with the pistol."

There was something so provocative in her tone that Maitland detected the speech at once, and became curious to trace it to a cause. At this sally, however, he only smiled in silence.

"I tried to persuade Mark to drive over and see Tony Butler," continued she, "but he would n't consent: in fact, a general impulse to be disobliging would appear to have seized on the world just now. Don't you think so?"

"By the way, I forgot to tell you that your protege Butler refuses to accept my offer. I got three lines from him, very dry and concise, saying 'no' to me. Of course I trust to your discretion never to disclose the negotiation in any way. I myself shall never speak of it; indeed, I am very little given to doing civil things, and even less accustomed to finding them ill-received, so that my secrecy is insured."

"He ought not to have refused," said she, thoughtfully.

"Perhaps not."

"He ought certainly to have given the matter more consideration. I wish I could have been consulted by him. Is it too late yet?"

"I suspect it is," said he, dryly. "First of all, as I told you, I am little in the habit of meeting a repulse; and, secondly, there is no time to renew the negotiation. I must leave this to-day."

"To-day?"

"Within an hour," added he, looking at his watch; "I must manage to reach Dublin in time to catch the mail-packet to-morrow morning."

"This is very sudden, this determination."

"Yes, I am called away by tidings I received awhile ago,--tidings of, to me, the deepest importance."

"Mark will be extremely sorry," said she, in a low tone.

"Not sorrier than I am," said he, despondently.

"We all counted on your coming back with us to the Abbey; and it was only awhile ago Bella begged that we should wait here for a day or two, that we might return together, a family party."

"What a flattery there is in the phrase!" said he, with deep feeling.

"You don't know," continued she, "what a favorite you are with my mother. I dare not trust myself to repeat how she speaks of you."

"Why will you multiply my regrets, Mrs. Trafford? Why will you make my parting so very, very painful?"

"Because I prefer that you should stay; because I speak in the name of a whole house who will be afflicted at your going."

"You have told me of all save one," said be, in a voice of deepest feeling; "I want to learn what she thinks."

"She thinks that if Mr. Maitland's good-nature be only on a par with his other qualities, he would sooner face the tiresomeness of a stupid house than make the owners of it feel that they bored him."

"She does not think anything of the kind," said he, with a peculiar smile. "She knows that there is no question of good nature or of boredom in the matter at all; but there is something at stake far more touching than either." He waited to see if she would speak, but as she was silent he went on: "I will be honest, if you will not. I am not going away of my freewill. I have been called by a telegram this morning to the Continent; the matter is so pressing that--shall I confess it?--if this stupid meeting with the Commodore had been arranged, I should have been a defaulter. Yes, I'd have made I don't well know what explanation to account for my absence. I can imagine what comments would have been pa.s.sed upon my conduct. I feel very painfully, too, for the part I should have left to such of my friends here as would defend me, and yet have not a fragment to guide their defence. And still, with all these before me, I repeat, I would have gone away, so imminent is the case that calls me, and so much is the matter one that involves the whole future of my life. And now," said he, while his voice became fuller and bolder, "that I have told you this, I am ready to tell you more, and to say that at one word of yours--one little word--I 'll remain."

"And what may that word be?" said she, quietly; for while he was speaking she had been preparing herself for some such issue.

"I need not tell you," said he, gravely.

"Supposing, then, that I guess it,--I am not sure that I do,--but suppose that,--and could it not be just as well said by another,--by Bella, for instance?"

"You know it could not. This is only fencing, for you know it could not."

"You mean, in fact, that I should say, 'don't go?'"

"I do."

"Well, I 'm willing enough to say so, if my words are not to convey more than I intend by them."

"I 'll risk even that," said he, quickly. "Put your name to the bond, and we 'll let lawyers declare what it is worth after."

"You frighten me, Mr. Maitland," said she, and her tone showed that now at least she was sincere.

"Listen to me for one moment, Alice," said he, taking her hand as he walked beside her. "You are fully as much the mistress of your fate as I am master of mine. You may consult, but you need not obey. Had it been otherwise, I never would have dared on a hardihood that would probably have wrecked my hopes. It is just as likely I never could satisfy the friends about you on the score of my fortune,--my means,--my station, and so on. It is possible, too, that scandal, which makes free with better men, may not have spared me, and that they who would have the right to advise you might say, 'Beware of that dreadful man.' I repeat, this is an ordeal my pride would feel it hard to pa.s.s through; and so I come to you, in all frankness, and declare I love you. To you--you alone--I will give every guarantee that a man may give of his honor and honesty. I will tell all my past, and so much as I mean for the future; and in return, I only ask for time,--nothing but time, Alice. I am not asking you for any pledge, simply that you will give me--what you would not have refused a mere acquaintance--the happiness of seeing you daily; and if--if, I say, you yourself should not deem the hand and the love I offer beneath you,--if you should be satisfied with the claims of him who would share his fortune with you,--that then--not till then--others should hear of it. Is this too much for me to ask, or you to give, Alice?"

"Even now I do not know what you ask of me."

"First of all, that you bid me stay."

"It is but this moment you have declared to me that what calls you away is of the very last importance to you in life."

"The last but one, Alice,--the last is here;" and he kissed her hand as he spoke, but still with an air so deferent that she could not resent it.

"I cannot consent that it shall be so," said she, with energy. "It is true I am my own mistress, and there is but the greater reason why I should be more cautious. We are almost strangers to each other. All the flattery of your professions--and of course, I feel it as flattery--does not blind me to the fact that I scarcely know you at all."

"Why not consent to know me more?" asked he, almost imploringly.

"I agree, if no pledge is to accompany my consent."

"Is not this a somewhat hard condition?" said he, with a voice of pa.s.sionate meaning. "You bid me, in one word, place all that I have of hope on the issue,--not even on that, but simply for leave to play the game. Is this generous, Alice,--is it even just?"

"You bewilder me with all these subtleties, and I might ask if this were either just or generous; but at least, I will be frank. I like you very well. I think it not at all impossible that I might like you better; but even after that, Mr. Mainland, there would be a long stage to travel to that degree of regard which you profess to desire from me. Do I make myself understood?"

"Too well for me and my hopes!" said he, despondingly. "You are able, however, to impose hard conditions."

"I impose none, sir. Do not mistake me."

"You leave none others open to me, at least, and I accept them. To give me even that faint chance of success, however, I must leave this to-day.

Is it not better I should?"

"I really cannot advise," said she, with a well-a.s.sumed coldness.

"Even contingently, Mrs. Trafford will not involve herself in my fortunes," said he, half haughtily. "Well, my journey to Ireland, amongst other benefits, has taught me a lesson that all my wanderings never imparted. I have at last learned something of humility. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mr. Maitland," said she, with calm, but evidently not without effort.