Tony Butler. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “I take it,” said he, after a pause, “that he has no great mind for the learned professions, as they call them?”

      “No inclination whatever, and I cannot say I ‘m sorry for it. My poor boy would be lost in that great ocean of world-liness and self-seeking. I don’t mean if he were to go into the Church,” said she, blushing crimson at the awkwardness of her speech, “but you know he has no vocation for holy orders, and such a choice would be therefore impossible.”

      “I’m thinking it would not be his line, neither,” said the old man, dryly. “What o’ the mercantile pursuits? You shake your head. Well, there’s farming?”

      “Farming, my dear Dr. Stewart, – farming means at least some thousand pounds’ capital, backed by considerable experience, and, I fear me, my poor Tony is about as wanting in one as in the other.”

      “Well, ma’am, if the lad can neither be a soldier, nor a sailor, nor a merchant, nor a farmer, nor will be a lawyer, a doctor, or a preacher o’ the Word, I ‘m sore pushed to say what there’s open to him, except some light business in the way of a shop, or an agency like, which maybe you ‘d think beneath you.”

      “I’m certain my son would, sir; and no great shame either that Colonel Walter Butler’s son should think so, – a C. B. and a Guelph of Hanover, though he never wore the decoration. It is not so easy for us to forget these things as it is for our friends.”

      This was rather cruel, particularly to one who had been doing his best to pilot himself through the crooked channels of difficulties, and was just beginning to hope he was in deep water.

      “Would n’t the Colonel’s friends be likely to give him a helping hand?” said the minister, timidly, and like one not quite sure of his ground.

      “I have not asked them, nor is it likely that I will,” said she, sternly; then, seeing in the old man’s face the dismay and discouragement her speech had produced, she added, “My husband’s only brother, Sir Omerod Butler, was not on speaking terms with him for years, – indeed, from the time of our marriage. Eleanor Mackay, the Presbyterian minister’s daughter, was thought a mesalliance; and maybe it was, – I won’t deny it, doctor. It was deemed a great rise in the world to me, though I never felt it exactly in that way myself. It was my pride to think my husband a far greater man than any of his family, and it was his to say I had helped him to become so.”

      “I’ve heard o’ that too,” was the cautious rejoinder of the old minister.

      The memories thus suddenly brought up were too much for the poor widow’s composure, and she had to turn away and wipe the tears from her eyes. “Yes, sir,” said she at last, “my noble-hearted husband was made to feel through his whole life the scorn of those who would not know his wife, and it is not from such as these my poor boy is to crave assistance. As for Tony himself,” said she, with more energy of voice and manner, “he’d never forgive me if I took such a step.”

      The good minister would fain have rebuked the indulgence of sentiments like these, which had little of forgiveness in their nature. He felt sorely tempted to make the occasion profitable by a word in season; but his sagacity tempered his zeal, and he simply said, “Let byganes be byganes, Mrs. Butler, or, at all events, let them not come back like troubled spirits to disturb the future.”

      “I will do my best, doctor,” said she, calmly, “and, to do so, I will talk of something else. Can you tell me if there is a Mr. Elphinstone in the Ministry now, – in the Cabinet, I mean,” said she, correcting herself, for she remembered what the word signifies to Presbyterian ears.

      “There is a Sir Harry Elphinstone, Secretary of State for the Colonies, ma’am.”

      “That must be the same, then; my husband always called him Harry; they were like brothers at the Cape long, long ago. Could n’t he do something for Tony, think you?”

      “The very man who could; and maybe, too, in the very sort of career would suit the lad best of all. He’s strong of limb and stout of heart, and has brave health, – he’s just the man to meet the life and enjoy the very accidents of a new world.”

      “If he could leave me, – that is, if I could bear to part with him, doctor,” said she, with a thick utterance.

      “These are not days, my dear madam, when a mother can tie a son to her apron. The young birds will leave the nest, make it ever so warm and snug for them; and it was a wise Providence that so decreed it.”

      “Would there be any impropriety in my writing to Mr. – Sir Harry Elphinstone?” asked she.

      “I can see none whatever. It is more than likely that he ‘ll thank you heartily for the chance of serving his old friend’s son. Such a great man gives away every day more places than would provide for three generations of either of us; and it must be a rare pleasure when he can serve the Queen and gladden his own heart together.”

      “You ‘d maybe help me with the letter, doctor,” asked she, half diffidently.

      “Not a doubt of it, Mrs. Butler; my poor aid is quite at your service: but had n’t we best, first of all, speir a bit, and see what the lad thinks of it? Let us find out that it’s the life he ‘d take to willingly. It’s no by way of reproach to him I say it; but we all know that when a young fellow gets accustomed to ride a blood horse with a groom after him, and eat his soup with a damask napkin over his knees, it’s a sore change to mount a mustang and digest raw buffalo.”

      “If you mean by that, Dr. Stewart, that Tony has been spoiled by a life of luxury and indolence, you do him great wrong. The poor dear boy is half heart-broken at-times at his purposeless, unprofitable existence. There are days he is so overcome that he can scarcely lift up his head for it. This very morning was one of them; and it was only when Sir Arthur sent over a third time to say, ‘You must come; I’ ll take no excuse,’ that I could persuade him to set off. They are expecting young Captain Lyle to-day, and making all sorts of festive preparations to receive him. Tony has charge of the fireworks; and as Sir Arthur says, ‘If you leave your chemicals to other hands, the chances are we shall all be blown up together. ‘”

      “I remember the Captain when he was just so high,” said the doctor, holding his hand about three feet from the ground, – “he used to come to me every Saturday for a lesson in Scripture; smart enough he was, but a proud sort of boy, that kept his class-fellows at a distance, and when the lesson was over would not speak to one of them. He was the baronet’s son, and they were the sons of his father’s tradespeople. I remember I made a complaint against him once, I forget for what, but be never came to my house after.”

      Mrs. Butler seemed not to follow the doctor’s speech; indeed, her whole heart was so set on one object and one theme that it was only by an effort she could address herself to any other. The humblest piece in which Tony played was a drama full of interest. Without him the stage had no attraction, and she cared not who were the performers. The doctor, therefore, was some time before he perceived that his edifying reflections on the sins of pride and self-conceit were unheeded. Long experience had taught him tolerance in such matters; he had known even elders to nod; and so he took his hat and said farewell with a good grace, and a promise to help her with a letter to the Secretary of State whenever the time came to write it.

      Late on the night of that day in which this conversation occurred, Mrs. Butler sat at her writing-desk, essaying for the tenth time how to address that great man whose favor she would propitiate. Letter-writing had never been her gift, and she distrusted her powers even unfairly in this respect. The present was, besides, a case of some difficulty. She knew nothing СКАЧАТЬ