Tony Butler. Lever Charles James

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ on me, and that I knew I ‘d make such a sorry defence if we were to meet, that, in the words of his own song, ‘I ran awa’ in the morning.’”

      She shook her head in silence, and seemed far from satisfied.

      “Tell him, however, that I ‘ll go and see Dolly the first day I’m free, and bring him back a full account of her, how she looks, and what she says of herself.”

      The thought of his return flashed across the poor mother’s heart like sunshine over a landscape, spreading light and gladness everywhere. “And when will that be, Tony?” cried she, looking up into his eyes.

      “Let me see. To-morrow will be Wednesday.”

      “No, Tony, – Thursday.”

      “To be sure, Thursday, – Thursday, the ninth; Friday, Liverpool; Saturday, London! Sunday will do for a visit to Dolly; I suppose there will be no impropriety in calling on her of a Sunday?”

      “The M’Graders are a Scotch family, I don’t know if they ‘d like it.”

      “That shall be thought of. Let me see; Monday for the great man, Tuesday and Wednesday to see a little bit of London, and back here by the end of the week.”

      “Oh! if I thought that, Tony – ”

      “Well, do think it; believe it, rely upon it. If you like, I’ll give up the Tuesday and Wednesday, though I have some very gorgeous speculations about Westminster Abbey and the Tower, and the monkeys in the Zoological Gardens, with the pantomime for a finish in the evening. But you ‘ve only to say the word, and I ‘ll start half an hour after I see the Don in Downing Street.”

      “No, of course not, darling. I ‘m not so selfish as that; and if you find that London amuses you and is not too expensive, – for you know, Tony, what a slender purse we have, – stay a week, – two weeks, Tony, if you like it.”

      “What a good little woman it is!” said he, pressing her towards him; and the big tears trembled in his eyes and rolled heavily along his cheeks. “Now for the ugly part, – the money, I mean.”

      “I have eleven pounds in the house, Tony, if that will do to take with you.”

      “Do, mother! Of course it will. I don’t mean to spend near so much; but how can you spare such a sum? that’s the question.”

      “I just had it by, Tony, for a rainy day, as they call it; or I meant to have made you a smart present on the fourth of next month, for your birthday. – I forget, indeed, what I intended it for,” said she, wiping her eyes, “for this sudden notion of yours has driven everything clean out of my head; and all I can think of is if there be buttons on your shirts, and how many pairs of socks you have.”

      “I’m sure everything is right; it always is. And now go to bed like a dear little woman, and I ‘ll come in and say good-bye before I start in the morning.”

      “No, no, Tony; I ‘ll be up and make you a cup of tea.”

      “That you shall not. What a fuss to make of a trip to London; as if I was going to Auckland or the Fijee Islands? By the way, mother, would n’t you come out to me if the great man gave me something very fine and lucrative? – for I can’t persuade myself that he won’t make me a governor somewhere.”

      She could not trust herself to speak, and merely clutched his hand in both her own and held it fast.

      “There’s another thing,” said he, after a short struggle with himself; “there may possibly be notes or messages of one sort or another from Lyle Abbey; and just hint that I ‘ve been obliged to leave home for a day or two. You need n’t say for where nor how long; but that I was called away suddenly, – too hurriedly to go up and pay my respects, and the rest of it I ‘m not quite sure you ‘ll be troubled in this way; but if you should, say what I have told you.”

      “The doctor will be sorry not to have said good-bye, Tony.”

      “I may be back again before he need hear of my having gone. And now, good-night, dear mother; I ‘ll come and see you before I start.”

      When Tony Butler found himself alone in his room, he opened his writing-desk and prepared to write, – a task, for him, of no common magnitude and of the very rarest occurrence. What it exacted in the way of strain and effort may be imagined from the swelling of the veins in his forehead, and the crimson patches that formed on his cheeks. “What would I give now,” muttered he, “for just ten minutes of ready tact, to express myself suitably, – to keep down my own temper, and at the same time make his boil over! If I have ten years of life before me, I ‘d give five of them to be able to do this; but I cannot, – I cannot! To say all that I want, and not be a braggart or something worse, requires mind and judgment and tact, and twenty other gifts that I have not got; and I have only to picture him going about with my letter in his hand, showing it to every one, with a sheer at my mode of expression, – possibly of my spelling! Here goes; my very writing shames me: —

      “Sir, – The manner I left your father’s house last night would require an apology [I wonder if there are two p’s in ‘apology’] from me, if I had not a graver one to ask from you. [He read this over fully a dozen times, varying the emphasis, and trying if the meaning it bore, or that he meant it to bear, could be changed by the reading. ‘All right,’ said he, ‘no mistake there.‘] There is, however, so much of excuse for your conduct that you did not know how I was treated by your family, – regarded as a friend, and not the Cad you wanted to make me! [‘Cad’ reads wrong – vulgar; I suppose it is vulgar, but it means what I intend, and so let it go.] I cannot make a quarrel with your father’s son. [I ‘ll dash make, to show that I could accept one of another’s making.] But to avoid the risk, I must avoid the society where I shall meet you [no; that’s not right; ‘father’s son’ ought to have him after it] – avoid the society where I shall meet him. From this day, therefore, I will not return to the Abbey without I receive that reparation from you which is the right of

      “Your faithful servant,

      “T. Butler.

      “I could not write myself ‘Anthony,’ if I got five pounds for it”

      Ten miles across a stiff country, straight as the crow flies would not have “taken as much out” of poor Tony as the composition of this elegant epistle; and though he felt a sincere satisfaction at its completion, he was not by any means satisfied that he had achieved a success. “No,” muttered he, as he sealed it, “my pen will not be my livelihood; that’s certain. If it wasn’t for the dear mother’s sake, I would see what a musket could do, I’d enlist, to a certainty. It is the best thing for fellows like me.” Thus musing and “mooning,” he lay down, dressed as he was, and fell asleep. And as he lay, there came a noiseless step to his door, and the handle turned, and his mother drew nigh his bed, and bent over him. “Poor Tony!” muttered she, as her tears gushed out. “Poor Tony!” what a story in two words was there! – what tender love, what compassionate sorrow! It was the outburst of a mother’s grief for one who was sure to get the worst at the hands of the world, – a cry of anguish for all the sorrows his own warm heart and guileless nature would expose him to, – the deceptions, the wrongs, the treacheries that were before him; and yet, in all the selfishness of her love, she would not have had him other than he was! She never wished him to be crafty or worldly-wise. Ten thousand times was he dearer, in all his weakness, than if he had the cunning of the craftiest that ever outschemed their neighbors. “My poor boy,” said she, “what hard lessons there are before you! It is well that you have a brave, big heart, as well as a tender СКАЧАТЬ