These family histories, apparently so confidentially imparted, gave Alice a pretext to take Tony off with her, and show him the gardens. Poor Tony, too, was eager to have an opportunity to speak of his friend to Alice. “Skeffy was such a good fellow; so hearty, so generous, so ready to do a kind thing; and then, such a thorough gentleman! If you had but seen him, Alice, in our little cabin, so very different in every way from all he is accustomed to, and saw how delighted he was with everything; how pleasantly he fell into all our habits, and how nice his manner to my mother. She reads people pretty quickly; and I 'll tell you what she said,--'He has a brave big heart under all his motley.'” “I rather like him already,” said Alice, with a faint smile at Tony's eagerness; “he is going to stop here, is he not?” “I cannot tell. I only know that Mrs. Maxwell wrote to put him off.” “Yes, that she did a couple of days ago; but now that Bella is so much better,--so nearly well, I may say,--I think she means to keep him, and you too, Tony, if you will so far favor us.” “I cannot,--it is impossible.” “I had hoped, Tony,” said she, with a malicious sparkle in her eyes, “that it was only against Lyle Abbey you bore a grudge, and not against every house where I should happen to be a visitor.” “Alice, Alice!” said he, with trembling lips, “surely this is not fair.” “If it be true, is the question; and until you have told me why you ceased to come to us,--why you gave up those who always liked you,--I must, I cannot help believing it to be true.” Tony was silent: his heart swelled up as if it would burst his chest; but he struggled manfully, and hid his emotion. “I conclude,” said she, sharply, “it was not a mere caprice which made you throw us off. You had a reason, or something that you fancied was a reason.” “It is only fair to suppose so,” said he, gravely. “Well, I 'll give you the benefit of that supposition; and I ask you, as a matter of right, to give me your reason.” “I cannot, Alice,--I cannot,” stammered he out, while a deadly paleness spread over his face. “Tony,” said she, gravely, “if you were a man of the world like your friend Mr. Darner, for instance, I would probably say that in a matter of this kind you ought to be left to your own judgment; but you are not. You are a kind-hearted simple-minded boy. Nay, don't blush and look offended; I never meant to offend you. Don't you know that?” and she held out to him her fair white hand, the taper fingers trembling with a slight emotion. Tony stooped and kissed it with a rapturous devotion. “There, I did not mean that, Master Tony,” said she, blushing; “I never intended your offence was to be condoned; I only thought of a free pardon.” “Then give it to me, Alice,” said he, gulping down his emotion; “for I am going away, and who knows when I shall see you again?” “Indeed,” said she, with a look of agitation; “have you reconsidered it, then? have you resolved to join Maitland?”