The malicious drollery with which she poured out all this had heightened her color and given increased brilliancy to her eyes. Instead of the languid delicacy which usually marked her features, they shone now with animation and excitement, and became in consequence far more beautiful. So striking was the change that Maitland paid little attention to the words, while he gazed with rapture at the speaker. It must have been a very palpable admiration he bestowed, for she drew down her veil with an impatient jerk of the hand, and said, “Well, sir, doesn't this arrangement suit you, or would you rather make your visit to Port-Graham alone?” “I almost think I would,” said he, laughing. “I suspect it would be safer.” “Oh, now that I know your intentions,--that you have made me your confidante,--you 'll see that I can be a marvel of discretion.” “Put up your veil again, and you may be as _maligne_ as you please.” “There! yonder is Tilney,” said she, hastily, “where you see those fine trees. Are the horses distressed, George?” “Well, ma'am, they 've had enough of it” “I mean, are they too tired to go round by the river-side and the old gate?” “It's a good two miles round, ma'am.” “Oh, I know what that means,” said she, in a whisper. “If there should be anything amiss for the next three months, it will be that cruel day's work down at Tilney will be charged with it. Go in by the new lodge,” added she, aloud; “and as they have innumerable carriages here, Mr. Maitland, I 'll take you a drive over there to-morrow. It's a very nice thing, is n't it, to be as rich as old Mrs. Maxwell, and to be always playing the part of 'Good Fairy,' giving splendid banquets, delicious little country-parties to all the world; offering horses to ride, boats to sail in? What _are_ you looking at so fixedly?” “I think I recognize a conveyance I once had the happiness to travel in. Isn't that the Graham equipage before us?” “I declare, it is!” cried she, joyfully. “Oh, lucky Mr. Maitland; they are going to Tilney.” As she spoke, George, indignant at being dusted by a shambling old mare with long fetlocks, gathered up his team in hand, and sent them “spinning” past the lumbering jaunting-car, giving the Grahams only time to recognize the carriage and its two occupants. CHAPTER XIX. TONY'S TROUBLES When Tony Butler met Mrs. Trafford's carriage, he was on his road, by a cross path, to the back entrance of Lyle Abbey. It was not his intention to pay a visit there at that moment, though he was resolved to do so later. His present errand was to convey a letter he had written to Maitland, accepting the proposal of the day before.