Tony Butler

“‘British subject.’”

“Yes, I remember. ‘Yet that, conceding much to the feelings ‘ – no, that is too familiar – ‘making allowances for an irritability – ‘”

“I don’t think you can say that, Skeff. He has now been seven weeks in confinement.”

“‘Lucky dog that he has not been seven weeks worked almost to a skeleton, like me, with the cares of a whole nation on my head, and the eyes of Europe upon me.”

“Just let me say that you will look into his case, and do your best to get him out of prison.”

“With all my heart. It is fearfully undignified; but let it go, and I’ll send off a messenger to the Prefetto Lanzi to deliver up the prisoner M’Gruder to me to-morrow morning, and we will interrogate him here.”

The roll of a drum was now heard in the street without, and from the balcony could be seen an immense crowd of people moving in front of an infantry regiment, who marched past, travel-stained and disordered, and with an indescribable something in their air that indicated, it might be defeat, it might be disaffection.

“Here’s strange news,” said Sir Arthur, as he joined them. “The landlord tells me Garibaldi has landed in Calabria, near Reggio, beaten the royal troops, and is in full march on Naples. The regiment that you see there were ordered off to reinforce the advanced guard, but cried out, ‘Viva Garibaldi!’ and have been now recalled, and are to be sent into the fortress.”

“Look!” cried Skeff; “here comes the Artillery after them, a strong proof that they don’t trust these fellows. Bella, I must write off the news at once.”

“Let me first finish about M’Gruder,” said she, as she sat down to the table.

“I wish we were all safe back in England,” said Lady Lyle, as she came up.

“I was just thinking the very same thing,” said Sir Arthur.

“Have no fears,” interposed Skeffy; “I shall order up the fleet from Malta. You shall have a frigate – a line-of-battle ship, if you like it better.”

“I’d much rather we had post-horses and an escort,” said Lady Lyle.

“Would that be possible, Darner?”

“All is possible, Sir Arthur, to power properly exercised. I ‘ll go down at once to the War Office, and see what can be done.”

“If it were perfectly safe,” said Bella, “I should like to drive through the streets and see what is going on; and as Alice refuses to go out, we are just enough for one carriage.” The project was agreed to, all the more readily that Skeff assured them his presence was au aegis that all parties would know how to respect; he was, in fact, as he put it, a sort of emblematized British lion, who with folded paws was about to take an airing for his own amusement.

“As we drive along,” whispered he to Bella, “just watch the recognitions fellows will throw me, – a look, a gesture, a sign, scarcely perceptible, but enough to say, ‘Your Excellency may depend upon us.’”

And Bella felt a certain elation at the thought that she was the chosen one of a man so eminent and so distinguished. And, oh dear, let us not be severe upon her for it! If we could not make occasional swans of our geese in this life, we should be very ill off in matters of ornithology. Away they drove down the Chiaja and up the Toledo, where, amidst wild yells and cries for the King, and at times for Garibaldi, a dense mass of people surged and swayed like a mighty monster awaking out of slumber and arousing to deeds of violence.

The populace seemed intoxicated, but not with wine or with joy, but a sort of dare-devil recklessness which sought something – anything – to vent its passion upon. Lines of men linked arm in arm, and, filling the full breadth of the street, marched rapidly on, chanting wild songs; and it was strange to mark in these the old gray-headed feeble man coupled with the stalwart youth, or, perhaps, the mere boy. Here and there were groups listening to some street-orator, now greeting his words with a cheer, now with a burst of vociferous laughter; and through all these went other men, busily, eagerly whispering to this, conferring with that, now exerting every effort of persuasiveness, now seeming to employ incentives to vengeance.

Except the carriage where sat the Lyles, not another vehicle of any kind was to be seen; and as the horses moved slowly along through the dense crowd, many a rude jest and droll comment was passed upon the matti Inglesi, – the mad English, – who had taken such a time and place for a carriage airing. Nor was the courage of the act unrecognized, and twice or thrice a wild cheer proclaimed what they thought of a nation whose very ladies were above all fear and timidity.

The most striking, feature in all this tumult was that soldiers were seen everywhere mixed up with the civilians; not merely furloughed men in undress, but soldiers in full uniform and perfectly armed, but yet displaying, sometimes ostentatiously, by the way they carried their shakoes or their bayonets, or wore their coats open and unbuttoned, that they no longer respected the claims of discipline.

Patrols on foot or horseback would be met, too; but the men, under no restraint, would not only exchange words of greeting with the mob, but accept offers of wine or cigars; and it was seen that the officers were either powerless to prevent or unwilling to curb this indiscipline.

“What does all this portend, Damer?” asked Sir Arthur. “We hear cheers for the King; but all I see seems to threaten his downfall.”

Skeffy was puzzled, and a wiser man might have been puzzled; but his diplomatic instincts forbade such a humiliating avowal, and so he merely muttered something to the purport that “We” had not fully determined what was to be the issue; and that till “We” had made up our minds, all these signs and portents were mere street-noises.

If I am not perfectly just to him in this rendering of his explanation, I am, at least, merciful to my reader; and, leaving the party to follow out the exploration, I shall return to the drawing-room they had just quitted, and where Alice now sat alone, and deep in thought The yells and cries that filled the street outside, and the continual uproar that resounded through the city, were all unheeded by her; and so immersed was she in her reflection, that when a servant entered the room to present the card of a visitor, she was unaware of his presence till he had twice addressed her.

“It cannot be for us,” said she, looking at the name. “I do not know the Count d’Amalfi.”

“He hopes to be better remembered as Mr. Maitland,” said that gentleman, as, pushing wide the half-opened door, he approached her and made a low bow.

The servant had time to retire and shut the door before Alice had sufficiently recovered herself to ask Maitland to be seated. So coldly was the request conveyed, however, that if he was not determined on having an interview, he would have affected to make his call an offer of some sort of attention, and taken his leave almost on the instant Far different were his present intentions; and as he deposited his hat and cane, and took his place in front of her, there was a methodical slowness that indicated purpose.

“I am almost afraid to tell you, Mr. Maitland,” she began, “that I gave orders to be denied to all visitors. They have all gone out to drive, and – ”

“It was for that reason that I took this opportunity to call, madam,” said he, very quietly, but in a tone of some decision. “I desired to see you all alone.”

“Not, surely, if you were aware that I did not receive?”

“Do not oblige me to convict myself, Mrs. Trafford; for I, too, shall be almost afraid to tell the truth;” and a very faint smile moved his mouth as he spoke.

“But, as I conjecture, you would like to meet my father – ”

“My visit at present is for you,” said he, interrupting; “and as I cannot assure myself how long the opportunity may last, let me profit by it.”

She became very pale; some fear she certainly felt; but there was more of anger than fear in the thought that this man was, by his manner, almost asserting a right to see and speak with her.

“Mr. Maitland is too accomplished a man of the world to need being told that, when a person has declared an indisposition to receive, it is usually deemed enough to secure privacy.”

“Usually, – yes; but there are occasions which are not in this category.”

“And do you mean to say this is one of them, sir?” said she, haughtily.

“Most certainly, madam, this is one of them!” As Mait-land said this, he saw the color mount to her face; and he saw, too, how, now that her proud spirit was, as it were, challenged, she would not think of retreat, but brave him, whatever might come of it.

“Indeed!” said she, with a scornful laugh, – “indeed!” and the last syllable was drawn out in an accent of most insolent irony.

“Yes, madam,” he continued, in a tone perfectly calm and un impassioned; “our last relations together fully warrant me to say so much; and however presumptuous it might have been in me to aspire as I did, the gracious favor with which I was listened to seemed to plead for me.”

“What favor do you speak of, sir?” said she, with evident agitation.

“I must not risk the faint hope that remains to me, by recalling what you may not wish to remember; but I may at least ask you to bring to mind a certain evening – a certain night – when we walked together in the garden at Tilney.”

“I do not think I am likely to forget it, sir; some anonymous slanderer has made it the pretext of a most insolent calumny. I do not, I need not say, connect you in any way with this base scandal; but it is enough to make the incident the reverse of a pleasant memory.”

“And yet it was the happiest of my whole life.”

“It is unfortunate, sir, that we should look back to an event with feelings so diametrically opposite.”

Maitland gave no heed to the irony of her tone, but went on: “If I was conscious of my own unworthiness, I had certain things in my favor which served to give me courage, – not the least of these was your brother’s friendship.”

“Mark was always proud of being Mr. Maitland’s friend,” said she, rather touched by this haughty man’s humility.

“That friendship became very precious to me when I knew his sister. Indeed, from that hour I loved him as a brother.”

“Forgive me, sir, if I interrupt you. At the time to which you allude we would seem to have been living in a perfect realm of misconceptions. Surely it is not necessary to revive them; surely, now that we have awoke, we need not take up the clew of a dream to assist our reflections.”

“What may be the misconceptions you refer to?” said he, with a voice much shaken and agitated.

“One was, it would appear, that Mr. Maitland made me certain professions. Another, that he was – that he had – that is, that he held – I cannot say it, sir; and I beg you to spare me what a rash temper might possibly provoke me to utter.”

“Say all that you will; I loved you, Alice.”

“You will force me to leave you, sir, if you thus forget yourself.”

“I loved you, and I love you still. Do not go, I beg, I implore you. As the proof of how I love you, I declare that I know all that you have heard of me, all that you have said of me, – every harsh and cruel word. Ay, Alice, I have read them as your hand traced them, and through all, I love you.”

“I will not stoop to ask how, sir; but I will say that the avowal has not raised you in my estimation.”

“If I have not your love, I will never ask for your esteem; I wanted your affection as a man wants that which would make his life a reality. I could have worked for you; I could have braved scores of things I have ever shrunk from; and I had a right to it.”

“A right! – what right?”

“The right of him who loved as I did, and was as ready to prove his love. The man who has done what I have is no adventurer, though that fair hand wrote him one. Remember that, madam; and remember that you are in a land where men accept no such slights as this you would pass upon me.” His eyes glared with passion as he spoke, and his dark cheeks grew purple. “You are not without those who must answer for your levity.”

“Now, sir, I leave you,” said she, rising.

“Not yet. You shall hear me out. I know why you have treated me thus falsely. I am aware who is my rival.”

“Let me pass, sir.”

He placed his back to the door, and folded his arms on his breast; but though he made an immense effort to seem calm, his lip shook as he spoke. “You shall hear me out. I tell you, I know my rival, and I am ready and prepared to stake my pretensions against his.”

“Go on, sir, go on; very little more in this strain will efface any memory I preserved of what you first appeared to me.”

“Oh, Alice!” cried he, in a voice of deep anguish. “It is despair has brought me to this. When I came, I thought I could have spoken with calm and self-restraint; but when I saw you – saw what I once believed might have been mine – I forgot all – all but my misery.”

“Suffer me to pass out, sir,” said she, coldly. He moved back, and opened the door wide, and held it thus as she swept past him, without a word or a look.

Maitland pressed his hat deep over his brow, and descended the stairs slowly, one by one. A carriage drove to the door as he reached it, and his friend Caffarelli sprang out and grasped his hand.

“Come quickly, Maitland!” cried he. “The King has left the palace. The army is moving out of Naples to take up a position at Capua. All goes badly. The fleet is wavering, and Garibaldi passed last night at Salerno.”

“And what do I care for all this? Let me pass.”

“Care for it! It is life or death, caro mio! In two hours more the populace will tear in pieces such men as you and myself, if we ‘re found here. Listen to those yells, Morte ai Reali! Is it with ‘Death to the Royalists!’ ringing in our ears we are to linger here?”

“This is as good a spot to die in as another,” said Maitland; and he lighted his cigar and sat down on the stone bench beside the door.

“The Twenty-fifth of the Line are in open revolt, and the last words of the King were, ‘Give them to Maitland, and let him deal with them.’”

Maitland shrugged his shoulders, and smoked on.

“Genario has hoisted the cross of Savoy over the fort at Baia,” continued the other, “and no one can determine what is to be done. They all say, ‘Ask Maitland.’”

“Imitate him! Do the same over the Royal Palace!” said the other, mockingly.

“There, there! Listen to that cry! The mob are pouring down the Chiaja. Come away.”

“Let us look at the scoundrels,” said Maitland, taking his friend’s arm, and moving into the street Caffarelli pushed and half lifted him into the carriage, and they drove off at speed.

CHAPTER LIV. SKEFF DAMER TESTED

When the Lyles returned from their drive, it was to find that Alice was too ill to come down to dinner. She had, she said, a severe headache, and wished to be left perfectly quiet and alone. This was a sore disappointment to Bella, brimful of all she had seen and heard, and burning with impatience to impart how Skeffy had been sent for by the King, and what he said to his Majesty, and how the royal plans had been modified by his sage words; and, in fact, that the fate of the Neapolitan kingdom was at that moment in the hands of that “gifted creature.”

It was such she called him; and I beg my kind reader not to think the less of her that she so magnified her idol. The happiest days of our lives are the least real, just as the evils which never befall us are the greatest.

Bella was sincerely sorry for her sister’s headache; but with all that, she kept stealing every now and then into her room to tell what Skeff said to Caraffa, and the immense effect it produced. “And then, dearest,” she went on, “we have really done a great deal to-day. We have sent off three ‘formal despatches,’ and two ‘confidential,’ and Skeff has told my Lord B., Secretary of State though he be, a piece of his mind, – he does write so ably when he is roused; and he has declared that he will not carry out his late instructions. Few men would have had courage to say that; but they know that, if Skeff liked, he has only to go into Parliament: there are scores of boroughs actually fighting for him; he would be positively terrible in opposition.”

A deep wearied sigh was all Alice’s response.

“Yes, dearest, I ‘m sure I am tiring you; but I must tell how we liberated Mr. M’Gruder. He has been, he says, fifty-three days in prison, and really he looks wretched. I might have felt more for the man, but for the cold good-for-nothing way he took all Skeff’s kindness. Instead of bursting with gratitude, and calling him his deliverer, all he said was, ‘Well, sir, I think it was high time to have done this, which, for aught I see, might just as easily have been done three or, perhaps, four weeks ago.’ Skeff was magnificent; he only waved his hand, and said, ‘Go; you are free!’ ‘I know that well enough,’ said he, in the same sturdy voice; ‘and I intend to make use of my freedom to let the British people know how I have been treated. You ‘ll see honorable mention of it all, and yourself, too, in the “Times,” before ten days are over.’”

“My dear Bella, my head is racking; would you just wet that handkerchief and lay it on my forehead?”

“My poor sweet Alice! and I so cruel, with all my stupid stories; but I thought you ‘d like to hear about Tony.”

“Tony! – what of Tony?” asked she, raising herself on one elbow and looking up.

“Well, dearest, it was while in search after Tony that M’Grader got imprisoned. They were sworn friends, it seems. You know, dear, Tony was never very particular in his choice of friends.”

“But what of him, – where is he?”

“I’ll tell you everything, if you’ll only have a little patience. Tony, who was living with M’Grader in Leghorn, – a partner, I think, in some odious traffic, – cast-off clothes, I believe, – grew tired of it, or got into debt, or did something that brought him into trouble, and he ran away and joined that mad creature Garibaldi.”

“Well, go on.”

“Well, he had not been gone more than ten days or so, when a lawyer came out from England to say that his uncle, Sir Somebody Butler, had died and left him all he had, – a fine estate, and I don’t know how much money. When Mr. M’Grader was quite satisfied that all this was true, – and, like a canny Scotchman, he examined it thoroughly, – he set off himself to find Tony and tell him his good news; for, as he said, it would have been a terrible thing to let him go risk his life for nothing, now that he had a splendid fortune and large estate. Indeed, you should have heard Mr. M’Gruder himself on this theme. It was about the strangest medley of romance and worldliness I ever listened to. After all, he was a stanch friend, and he braved no common dangers in his pursuit. He had scarcely landed, however, in Sicily, when he was arrested and thrown into prison.”

“And never met Tony?”

“Never, – of course not; how could he? He did not even dare to speak of one who served under Garibaldi till he met Skeffy.”

“But where is Tony? Is he safe? How are we to hear of him?” asked Alice, hurriedly.

“Skeff has undertaken all that, Alice. You know how he has relations with men of every party, and is equally at home with the wildest followers of Mazzini and the courtiers about the throne. He says he ‘ll send off a confidential messenger at once to Garibaldi’s camp with a letter for Tony. Indeed, it was all I could do to prevent him going himself, he is so attached to Tony, but I begged and implored him not to go.”

“Tony would have done as much for him,” said Alice, gloomily.

“Perhaps he would; but remember the difference between the men, Alice. If anything should befall Skeffy, who is there to replace him?”

Alice, perhaps, could not satisfactorily answer this, for she lay back on her bed, and covered her face with her hands.

“Not, indeed, that he would listen to me when I made that appeal to him, but he kept on repeating, ‘Tony is the finest, truest-hearted fellow I ever met. He’d never have left a friend in the lurch; he’d never have thought of himself if another was in danger; and help him I must and will:’ and that’s the reason we are waiting dinner, dear, for he would go off to the Minister of War or the President of the Council; and he told papa, as he shook hands, on no account to wait for him, for he might be detained longer than he expected.”

As she spoke, a tap came to the door, and a servant announced dinner.

“Has Mr. Damer arrived?” asked Bella, eagerly.

“No, ma’am, but Sir Arthur has just got a note from him.”

“I must see what he says!” cried she, and left the room.

Sir Arthur was reading the letter when she entered.

“Here’s Skeff gone off to what he calls the ‘front;’ he says that Tony Butler has joined the insurgents, and he must get him out of their hands at any price.”

“But of course, papa, you ‘ll not permit it; you ‘ll forbid him peremptorily,” broke in Bella.

“I ‘m not so sure of that, Bella; because, amongst other reasons, I ‘m not so sure he ‘d mind me. Our gifted friend is endowed with considerable self-will.”

“Immense determination, I should rather call it, papa; but, pray, try to stop this mad freak. He is not certainly called on to expose such a life as his, and at such a moment.”

“What am I to do?”

“Go over to him at once; declare that you have the right to speak on such a subject. Say that if he is pleased to overlook the necessity of his presence here at this crisis, he ought to remember his position with regard to us, – ought to think of me,” said she, with a burst of grief that ended in a shower of tears, and drove her from the room.

Sir Arthur was far more disposed to sit down to his dinner than go off on this mission of affection; but Lady Lyle took the same view of the case as her daughter, and there was no help for it. And although the bland butler repeated, “Soup is served, sir,” the poor man had to step downstairs to his carriage and drive off to the Legation.

On arriving there, he learned that his Excellency had gone to see the Prime Minister. Sir Arthur set off in the pursuit, which led him from one great office of the state to another, always to discover that the object of his search had just left only five minutes before; till, at length, his patience became exhausted on hearing that Mr. Darner was last seen in company with an officer of rank on the road to Castelamare, whither, certainly, he determined not to follow him.

It was near nine o’clock when he got home to report himself unsuccessful, to meet dark looks from his wife and daughter, and sit down alone to a comfortless dinner, chagrined and disconcerted.

Lady Lyle tried to interest him by relating the news of Tony Butler’s accession to fortune; but the re-heated mutton and the half-cold entrées were too trying to leave any portion of his nature open to such topics, and he sulkily muttered something about the folly of “having snubbed the young fellow,” – a taunt Lady Lyle resented by rising and leaving him to his own reflections.

And now to turn to Skeff Darner. I am forced to confess, and I do not make the confession without a certain pain, that our gifted friend had not that amount of acceptance with the Ministers of the King that his great talents and his promise might be supposed to have inspired; nor had he succeeded in acquiring for the country he represented the overwhelming influence he believed to be her due. When, therefore, he drove to Caraffa’s house, the Prince frankly told him, what certainly was true, that he had affairs far too weighty on his mind to enter upon that small question H. M.‘s Chargé d’Affaires desired to discuss. “Try Carini,” said he, “the Minister of Grace and Justice; he looks after the people who break the law.” Skeff grew angry, and the Minister bowed him out. He went in succession to some five or six others, all occupied, all overwhelmed with cares, troubles, and anxieties. At last, by a mere accident, he chanced upon Filangieri going off to wait on the King; he was accompanied by a small man, in a very gorgeous uniform, studded over with stars and decorations.

In a few hurried words Skeff told how his friend, a man of rank and fortune, had been seduced by some stupid representations to take service with Garibaldi, and that it was all-important to rescue him from such evil associations, and restore him at once to his friends and country.

“Where is he?”