A laugh from Tony--almost a hearty laugh--startled her from her musings. "What is it, Tony dear?" asked she,--"what is it that amuses you?"
"I'll read it all for you, mother. It's from Skeffy, and you 'd think you heard him talking, it's so like him.
"'Dear Butler,--What a fright you have given us all, old fellow, to have levanted so suddenly, leaving your traps with the waiter, as we first thought, but, as we afterwards discovered, exchanging them with one Rory Quin, who, apparently sorry for his bargain, came for three successive mornings to the hotel to find out your present whereabouts.'
"Do you understand him, mother?" asked Tony at this.
He resumed: "'Rory, however, would seem to have a private scrape of his own to occupy him now, for I found to-day that a policeman was waiting all the morning to arrest him, of which he seems to have had timely notice, for he did not appear, and "R. 960" says, with much solemnity, "he won't come no more."'"
"I can make nothing of it. I hope and trust that I am not the cause of the poor fellow's troubles. I 'll write about this at once. 'More of all this, however, when we meet, which, I rejoice to say, will be soon. I have got fourteen days' leave, and am going over to your immediate neighborhood, to visit an aunt, or a cousin, or a grandmother,--if she likes,--a certain Mrs. Maxwell of Tilney, who has lots of cash, and no one to leave it to,--five thousand a year in estate; I don't know what in the Threes; and is, they tell me, weighing all her relatives, real or imaginary, in the balance of her esteem, to decide who is to be the Lord of Tilney, and which of us would most worthily represent her name and house. Preaching for a call is nothing to this; and a C. S. examination is cakes and gingerbread to it Just fancy a grand competitive dinner of both sexes, and the old lady watching who ate of her favorite dish, or who passed the decanter she "affectioned." Imagine yourself talking, moving, sneezing, smiling, or blowing your nose, with five thousand a year on the issue. Picture to your mind the tortures of a scrutiny that may take in anything, from your complexion to your character, and which, though satisfied with your morals, might discover "something unpleasing about your mouth."