me vague suspicion
darting through him at the time that this rag-merchant was more generous
in his dealing with the woman he loved than he, Tony, would have been.
Was it that he loved less, or was it that his love was more? Tony could
n't tell; nor was it so very easy to resolve it either way.

As day broke, the steamer ran into Leghorn to land some passengers and
take in others; and M'Gruder, while he took leave of Tony, pointed to
a red-tiled roof rising amongst some olive-trees,--the quaint little
pigeon-house on top surmounted with a weather-vane fashioned into an
enormous letter S.

"There it is," said he, with a shake in his voice; "that was to have
been her home. I 'll not go near it till I hear from you, and you may
tell her so. Tell her you saw it, Tony, and that it was a sweet little
spot, where one might look for happiness if they could only bring a
quiet heart to it. And above all, Tony, write to me frankly and openly,
and don't give me any hopes if your own conscience tells you I have no
right to them."

With a strong grasp of the hand, and a long full look at each other
in silence, M'Grader went over the side to his boat, and the steamer
ploughed on her way to Marseilles.

CHAPTER LXI. TONY AT HOME AGAIN

Though Tony was eager to persuade Rory to accompany him home, the poor
fellow longed so ardently to see his friends and relations, to tell all
that he had done and suffered for "the cause," and to show the rank he
had won, that Tony yielded at last, and only bound him by a promise
to come and pass his Christmas at the Causeway; and now he hastened on
night and day, feverishly impatient to see his mother, and yearning for
that affection which his heart had never before so thirsted after.

There were times when he felt that, without Alice, all his good fortune
in life was valueless; and it was a matter of utter indifference whether
he was to see himself surrounded with every means of enjoyment, or rise
each morning to meet some call of labor. And then there were times when
he thought of the great space that separated them,--not in condition,
but in tastes and habits and requirements. She was of that gay and
fashionable world that she adorned,--made for it, and made to like it;
its admiration and its homage were things she looked for. What would
he have done if obliged to live in such a society? His delight was the
freedom of an out-of-door existence,--the hard work of field-sports,
dashed with a