Tony Butler

"Yes, Tony," cried she. "Who ever heard of so strange a meeting? How came you here? Speak, or I shall be as incredulous as yourself!" But Tony could not utter a word, but stood overwhelmed with wonder, silently gazing on her.

"Speak to me, Tony," said she, in her soft winning voice,--"speak to me; tell me by what curious fortune you came here. Let us sit down on this bank; our carriage is toiling up the hill, and will not be here for some time."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 482]

"So it is not a dream!" sighed he, as he sat down beside her. "I have so little faith in my brain that I could not trust it."

It was easy to see that his bewilderment still remained; and so, with a woman's tact, she addressed herself to talking of what would gradually lead his thoughts into a collected shape. She told how they were all on their way to the South,--Naples or Palermo, not certain which,--somewhere for climate, as Isabella was still delicate. That her father and mother and sister were some miles behind on the road, she having come on more rapidly with a lighter carriage. "Not all alone, though, Master Tony; don't put on that rebukeful face. The lady you see yonder on the road is what is called my companion,--the English word for duenna; and I half think I am scandalizing her very much by this conduct of mine, sitting down on the gra.s.s with a brigand chief, and, I was going to say, sharing his breakfast, though I have to confess it never occurred to him to offer it. Come, Tony, get up, and let me present you to her, and relieve her mind of the terrible thoughts that must be distressing her."

"One moment, Alice,--one moment," said he, taking her hand. "What is this story my mother tells me?" He stopped, unable to go on; but she quickly broke in, "Scandal travels quickly, indeed; but I scarcely thought your mother was one to aid its journey."

"She never believed it," said he, doggedly.

"Why repeat it, then? Why give bad money currency? I think we had better join my friend. I see she is impatient."

The coldness with which she spoke chilled him like a wintry blast; but he rallied soon, and with a vigorous energy said, "My mother no more believed ill of you than I did; and when I asked you what the slander meant, it was to know where I could find the man to pay for it."

"You must deny yourself the pleasure this time, Tony," said she, laughing. "It was a woman's story,--a disappointed woman,--and so, not so very blamable as she might be; not but that it was true in fact."

"True, Alice,--true?"

"Yes, sir. The inference from it was the only falsehood; but, really, we have had too much of this. Tell me of yourself,--why are you here? Where are you now going?"

"You 've heard of my exploits as a messenger, I suppose," said Tony, with a bitter laugh.

"I heard, as we all

said she, with a hesitation on each word.

"Left it? Yes; I left to avoid being kicked out of it I lost my despatches, and behaved like a fool. Then I tried to turn sailor, but no skipper would take me; and I _did_ turn clerk, and half ruined the honest fellow that trusted me. And now I am going--in good truth, Alice, I don't exactly know where, but it is somewhere in search of a pursuit to fit a fellow who begins to feel he is fit for nothing."

"It is not thus your friends think of you, Tony," said she, kindly.

"That's the worst of it," rejoined he, bitterly; "I have all my life been trying to justify an opinion that never should have been formed of me,--ay, and that I well knew I had no right to."

"Well, Tony, come back with us. I don't say with me, because I must be triple discreet for some time to come; but come back with papa; he 'll be overjoyed to have you with us."

"No, no," muttered Tony, in a faint whisper; "I could not, I could not."

"Is that old grudge of long ago so deep that time has not filled it up?"

"I could not, I could not," muttered he, evidently not hearing the words she had just spoken.

"And why not, Tony? Just tell me why not?"

"Shall I tell you, Alice?" said he; and his lip shook and his cheek grew pale as he spoke,--"shall I tell you?"

She nodded; for she too was moved, and did not trust herself to speak.

"Shall I tell you?" said he; and he looked into her eyes with a meaning so full of love, and yet of sorrow, that her cheek became crimson, and she turned away in shame.

"No, Tony," whispered she, faintly, "better not say--what might pain us both, perhaps."

"Enough, if you know," said he, faintly.

"There, see, my friend has lost all patience; come up to the road, Tony.

She must see that my interview has been with an English gentleman, and not a brigand chief. Give me your arm, and do not look so sulky."

"You women can look any way you will," mumbled he, "no matter what you may feel; that is, if you _do_ feel."

"You are the same old savage, Tony, as ever," said she, laughing. "I never got my melon, after all, Miss Lester; the sight of an old friend was, however, better. Let me present him to you,--Mr. Butler."

"Mr. Tony Butler?" asked she, with a peculiar smile; and though she spoke it low, he heard her, and said, "Yes; I am Tony Butler."

"Sir Arthur will be charmed to know you are here. It was but yesterday he said he 'd not mind taking a run through Calabria if we only had you with us."

"I have said all that and more to him, but he does n't mind it," said Alice.

"Is this fair, Alice?" whispered he.

"In fact," resumed she, "he has nowhere particular to go to, provided it be not the same road that we are taking."

"Is this kind, Alice?" whispered he, again.

"And though I have told him what pleasure it would give us all if he would turn back with us--"

"You 'll drive me to say it," muttered he, between his teeth.

"If you dare, sir," said she, in a low but clear whisper; and now she stepped into the carriage, and affected to busy herself with her m.u.f.flers. Tony a.s.sisted Miss Lester to her place, and then walked round to the side where Alice sat.

"You are not angry with me, Alice?" said he, falteringly.

"I certainly am not pleased," said she, coldly. "There was a time I had not to press a wish,--I had but to utter it."

"And yet, Alice," said he, leaning over, and whispering so close that she felt his breath on her face,--"and yet I never loved you then as I love you now."

"You have determined that I should not repeat my invitation," said she, leaning back in the carriage; "I must--I have no help for it--I must say good-bye!"

"Good-bye," said he, pressing her hand, from which he had just drawn off the glove, to his lips. She never made any effort to withdraw it, but leaned forward as though to conceal the action from her companion.

"Good-bye, dearest Alice," said he, once more.

"Give me my glove, Tony. I think it has fallen," said she, carelessly, as she leaned back once more.

"There it is," muttered he; "but I have another here that I will never part with;" and he drew forth the glove she had thrown on the strand for him to pick up--so long ago!

"You will see papa, Tony?" said she, drawing down her veil; "you can't fail to meet him before night. Say you saw us. Good-bye."

And Tony stood alone on the mountain, and watched the cloud of dust that rose behind the carriage, and listened to the heavy tramp of the horses till the sounds died off in the distance.