Tony Butler. Lever Charles James
or merely what may forward his pursuits in a new world? I wish I could hit upon something that will not sound like the every-day tune that must ring in his ears; but how can I, when what I seek is the selfsame thing?”
She leaned her head on her hand in thought, and, as she pondered, it occurred to her what her husband would have thought of such a step as she was taking. Would Walter have sanctioned it? He was a proud man on such points. He had never asked for anything in his life, and it was one of his sayings, – “There was no station that was not too dearly bought at the price of asking for it” She canvassed and debated the question with herself, balancing all that she owed to her husband’s memory against all that she ought to attempt for her boy’s welfare. It was a matter of no easy solution; but an accident decided for her what all her reasoning failed in; for, as she sat thinking, a hurried step was heard on the gravel, and then the well-known sound of Tony’s latch-key followed, and he entered the room, flushed and heated. He was still in dinner-dress, but his cravat was partly awry, and his look excited and angry.
“Why, my dear Tony,” said she, rising, and parting his hair tenderly on his forehead, “I did n’t look for you here to-night; how came it that you left the Abbey at this hour?”
“Wasn’t it a very good hour to come home?” answered he, curtly. “We dined at eight; I left at half-past eleven. Nothing very unusual in all that.”
“But you always slept there; you had that nice room you told me of.”
“Well, I preferred coming home. I suppose that was reason enough.”
“What has happened, Tony darling? Tell me frankly and fearlessly what it is that has ruffled you. Who has such a right to know it, or, if need be, to sympathize with you, as your own dear mother?”
“How you run on, mother, and all about nothing! I dine out, and I come back a little earlier than my wont, and immediately you find out that some one has outraged or insulted me.”
“Oh, no, no. I never dreamed of that, my dear boy!” said she, coloring deeply.
“Well, there’s enough about it,” said he, pacing the room with hasty strides. “What is that you were saying the other day about a Mr. Elphinstone, – that he was an old friend of my father’s, and that they had chummed together long ago?”
“All these scrawls that you see there,” said she, pointing to the table, “have been attempts to write to him, Tony. I was trying to ask him to give you some sort of place somewhere.”
“The very thing I want, mother,” said he, with a half-bitter laugh, – “some sort of place somewhere.”
“And,” continued she, “I was pondering whether it might not be as well to see if Sir Arthur Lyle would n’t write to some of his friends in power – ”
“Why should we ask him? What has he to do with it?” broke he in, hastily. “I ‘m not the son of an old steward or family coachman, that I want to go about with a black pocket-book stuffed with recommendatory letters. Write simply and fearlessly to this great man, – I don’t know his rank, – and say whose son I am. Leave me to tell him the rest.”
“My dear Tony, you little know how such people are overwhelmed with such-like applications, and what slight chance there is that you will be distinguished from the rest.”
“At all events, I shall not have the humiliation of a patron. If he will do anything for me, it will be for the sake of my father’s memory, and I need not be ashamed of that.”
“What shall I write, then?” And she took up her pen.
“Sir – I suppose he is ‘Sir;’ or is he ‘My Lord’?”
“No. His name is Sir Harry Elphinstone.”
“Sir, – The young man who bears this note is the only son of the late Colonel Walter Butler, C.B. He has no fortune, no profession, no friends, and very little ability. Can you place him in any position where he may acquire some of the three first and can dispense with the last?
“Your humble servant,
“Eleanor Butler.”
“Oh, Tony! you don’t think we could send such a letter as this?” said she, with a half-sad smile.
“I am certain I could deliver it, mother,” said he, gravely, “and I ‘m sure that it would answer its purpose just as well as a more finished composition.”
“Let me at least make a good copy of it,” said she, as he folded it up and placed it in an envelope.
“No, no,” said he; “just write his name, and all the fine things that he is sure to be, before and after it, and, as I said before, leave the issue to me.”
“And when would you think of going, Tony?”
“To-morrow morning, by the steamer that will pass this on the way to Liverpool. I know the Captain, and he will give me a passage; he’s always teasing me to take a trip with him.”
“To-morrow! but how could you get ready by to-morrow? I ‘ll have to look over all your clothes, Tony.”
“My dear little mother,” said he, passing his arm round her, and kissing her affectionately, “how easy it is to hold a review where there ‘s only a corporal’s guard for inspection! All my efficient movables will fit into a very small portmanteau, and I ‘ll pack it in less than ten minutes.”
“I see no necessity for all this haste, particularly where we have so much to consider and talk over. We ought to consult the doctor, too; he’s a warm friend, Tony, and bears you a sincere affection.”
“He’s a good fellow; I like him anywhere but in the pulpit,” muttered he, below his breath. “And he ‘d like to write to his daughter; she’s a governess in some family near Putney, I think. I ‘ll go and see her; Dolly and I are old playfellows. I don’t know,” added he, with a laugh, “whether hockey and football are part of a polite female education; but if they be, the pupils that have got Dolly Stewart for their governess are in rare luck.”
“But why must there be all this hurry?”
“Because it’s a whim of mine, dear little mother. Because – but don’t ask me for reasons, after having spoiled me for twenty years, and given me my own way in everything. I ‘ve got it into my wise head – and you know what a wise head it is – that I ‘m going to do something very brilliant. You ‘ll puzzle me awfully if you ask me where or how; so just be generous and don’t push me to the wall.”
“At all events, you ‘ll not go without seeing the doctor?”
“That I will. I have some experience of him as a questioner in the Scripture-school of a Saturday, and I ‘ll not stand a cross-examination in profane matters from so skilled a hand. Tell him from me that I had one of my flighty fits 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!