“Ain't I in luck!” cried Skeffy, in exultation. “I'd have gone to Tarnoff,--that's the place Holmes was named consul at,--and wrote back word that it did n't exist, and that the geography fellows were only hoaxing the office! just fancy, hoaxing the office! Hulloa!--what have we here? A four-horse team, by all that's stunning.” “Mrs. Trafford's. Draw up at the side of the road till they pass, Peter,” said Tony, hurriedly. The servant on the box of the carriage had, however, apparently announced Tony Butler's presence, for the postilions slackened their pace, and came to a dead halt a few paces in front of the car. “My mistress, sir, would be glad to speak to you,” said the servant, approaching Tony. “Is she alone, Coles?” asked he, as he descended from the car. “Yes, sir.” Somewhat reassured by this, but at the same time not a little agitated, Tony drew nigh the carriage. Mrs. Trafford was wrapped up in a large fur mantle,--the day was a cold one,--and lay back without making any movement to salute, except a slight bend of the head as he approached. “I have to apologize for stopping you,” said she, coldly; “but I had a message to give you from Mr. Maitland, who left this a couple of days ago.” “Is he gone,--gone for good?” asked Tony, not really knowing what he said. “I don't exactly know what 'for good' means,” said she, smiling faintly; “but I believe he has not any intention to return here. His message was to say that, being much pressed for time, he had not an opportunity to reply to your note.” “I don't think it required an answer,” broke in Tony, sternly. “Perhaps not as regarded you, but possibly it did as respected himself.” “I don't understand you.” “What I mean is, that, as you had declined his offer, you might possibly, from inadvertence or any other cause, allude to it; whereas he expressly wished that the subject should never be mentioned.” “You were apparently very much in his confidence?” said Tony, fixing his eyes steadily on her. “When I learn by what right you ask me that question, I 'll answer it,” said she, just as defiantly. Tony's face became crimson, and he could not utter a word. At last he stammered out, “I have a friend here,--Mr. Darner: he is just come over to pay a visit at Tilney, and Mrs. Maxwell sends him a note to say that they are all ill there.” “Only Bella, and she is better.” “And was Bella ill?” asked Tony, eagerly. “Yes, since Tuesday or Wednesday, and even up to Friday, very ill. There was a time this could scarcely have happened without your coming to ask after her.” “Is it my fault, Alice? First of all, I never knew it. You know well I go nowhere. I do not mix with those who frequent grand houses. But tell me of Bella.” “She was never alarmingly ill; but the doctor called it scarlatina, and frightened every one away; and poor Mrs. Maxwell has not yet recovered the shock of seeing her guests depart and her house deserted, for Bella and myself are all that remain.”