“Who said that Tony Butler had come back?” said Sir Arthur, as they sat at breakfast on the day after his arrival.

“The gardener saw him last night, papa,” said Mrs. Trafford; “he was sitting with his mother on the rocks below the cottage; and when Gregg saluted him, he called out, 'All well at the Abbey, I hope?'”

“It would have been more suitable if he had taken the trouble to assure himself of that fact by a visit here,” said Lady Lyle. “Don't you think so, Mr. Maitland?”

“I am disposed to agree with you,” said he, gravely.

“Besides,” added Sir Arthur, “he must have come over in the 'Foyle,' and ought to be able to bring me some news of my horses. Those two rough nights have made me very uneasy about them.”

“Another reason for a little attention on his part,” said her Ladyship, bridling; and then, as if anxious to show that so insignificant a theme could not weigh on her thoughts, she asked her daughter when Mark and Isabella purposed coming home.

“They spoke of Saturday, mamma; but it seems now that Mrs. Maxwell has got up—or somebody has for her—an archery meeting for Tuesday, and she writes a most pressing entreaty for me to drive over, and, if possible, persuade Mr. Maitland to accompany me.”

“Which I sincerely trust he will not think of.”

“And why, dearest mamma?”

“Can you ask me, Alice? Have we not pushed Mr. Maitland's powers of patience far enough by our own dulness, without subjecting him to the stupidities of Tilney Park?—the dreariest old mansion of a dreary neighborhood.”

“But he might like it. As a matter of experimental research, he told us how he passed an autumn with the Mandans, and ate nothing but eels and wood-squirrels.”

“You are forgetting the prairie rats, which are really delicacies.”

“Nor did I include the charms of the fair Chachinhontas, who was the object of your then affections,” said she, laughingly, but in a lower tone.

“So, then,” said he, “Master Mark has been playing traitor, and divulging my confidence. The girl was a marvellous horsewoman, which is a rare gift with Indian women. I 've seen her sit a drop-leap—I 'll not venture to say the depth, but certainly more than the height of a man—with her arms extended wide, and the bridle loose and flowing.”

“And you followed in the same fashion?” asked Alice, with a roguish twinkle of the eye.

“I see that Mark has betrayed me all through,” said he, laughing. “I own I tried it, but not with the success that such ardor deserved. I came head-foremost to the ground before my horse.”

“After all, Mr. Maitland, one is not obliged to ride like a savage,” said Lady Lyle.

“Except when one aspires to the hand of a savage princess, mamma. Mr. Maitland was ambitious in those days.”

“Very true,” said he, with a deep sigh; “but it was the only time in my life in which I could say that I suffered my affection to be influenced by mere worldly advantages. She was a great heiress; she had a most powerful family connection.”

“How absurd you are!” said Lady Lyle, good-humoredly.

“Let him explain himself, mamma; it is so very seldom he will condescend to let us learn any of his sentiments on any subject. Let us hear him about marriage.”

“It is an institution I sincerely venerate. If I have not entered into the holy estate myself, it is simply from feeling I am not good enough. I stand without the temple, and only strain my eyes to catch a glimpse of the sanctuary.”

“Does it appear to you so very awful and appalling, then?” said my Lady.

“Certainly it does. All the efforts of our present civilization seem directed to that end. We surround it with whatever can inspire terror. We call in the Law as well as the Church,—we add the Statutes to the Liturgy; and we close the whole with the most depressing of all festivities,—a wedding-breakfast.”

“And the Mandans, do they take a more cheerful view of matters?” asked Alice.

“How can you be so silly, Alice?” cried Lady Lyle.

“My dear mamma, are you forgetting what a marvellous opportunity we enjoy of learning the geography of an unknown sea, from one of the only voyagers who has ever traversed it?”

“Do you mean to go to Tilney, Alice?” asked her mother, curtly.

“If Mr. Maitland would like to add Mrs. Maxwell to his curiosities of acquaintance.”

“I have met her already. I think her charming. She told me of some port, or a pair of coach-horses, I can't be certain which, her late husband purchased forty-two years ago; and she so mingled the subjects together, that I fancied the horses were growing yellow, and the wine actually frisky.”

“I see that you have really listened to her,” said Mrs. Trafford. “Well, do you consent to this visit?”

“Delighted. Tell me, by way of parenthesis, is she a near neighbor of the worthy Commodore with the charming daughters? Gambier Graham, I think his name is.”

“Yes; she lives about twelve miles from his cottage: but why do you ask?”

“I have either promised, or he fancies I have promised, to pay him a flying visit.”

“Another case of a savage princess,” whispered Mrs. Trafford; and he laughed heartily at the conceit. “If we take the low road,—it's very little longer and much prettier,—we pass the cottage; and if your visit be not of great length, more than a morning call, in fact,—I 'll go there with you.”

“You overwhelm me with obligations,” said he, bowing low, to which she replied by a courtesy so profound as to throw an air of ridicule over his courtly politeness.

“Shall we say to-morrow for our departure, Mr. Maitland?”

“I am at your orders, madam.”

“Well, then, I'll write to dear old Aunt Maxwell—I suppose she'll be your aunt too before you leave Tilney (for we all adopt a relation so very rich and without an heir)—and delight her by saying that I have secured Mr. Maitland, an announcement which will create a flutter in the neighborhood by no means conducive to good archery.”

“Tell her we only give him up till Wednesday,” said Lady Lyle, “for I hope to have the Crayshaws here by that time, and I shall need you all back to receive them.”

“More beauties, Mr. Maitland,” exclaimed Mrs. Trafford. “What are you looking so grave about?”

“I was thinking it was just possible that I might be called away suddenly, and that there are some letters I ought to write; and, last of all, whether I should n't go and make, a hurried visit to Mrs. Butler; for in talking over old friends in Scotland, we have grown already intimate.”

“What a mysterious face for such small concerns!” said Mrs. Trafford. “Did n't you say something, papa, about driving me over to look at the two-year-olds?”

“Yes; I am going to inspect the paddock, and told Giles to meet me there.”

“What's the use of our going without Tony?” said she, disconsolately; “he's the only one of us knows anything about a colt.”

“I really did hope you were beginning to learn that this young gentleman was not an essential of our daily life here,” said Lady Lyle, haughtily. “I am sorry that I should have deceived myself.”

“My dear mamma, please to remember your own ponies that have become undrivable, and Selim, that can't even be saddled. Gregg will tell you that he does n't know what has come over the melon-bed,—the plants look all scorched and withered; and it was only yesterday papa said that he 'd have the schooner drawn up till Tony came back to decide on the new keel and the balloon jib!”

“What a picture of us to present to Mr. Maitland! but I trust, sir, that you know something of my daughter's talent for exaggerated description by this time, and you will not set us down for the incapables she would exhibit us.” Lady Lyle moved haughtily away as she spoke; and Sir Arthur, drawing Mrs. Trafford's arm within his own, said, “You 're in a fighting mood to-day. Come over and torment Giles.”

“There 's nothing I like better,” said she. “Let me go for my hat and a shawl.”

“And I'm off to my letter-writing,” said Maitland.