e n't been there since I saw you last."

"And how is that, Tony? You used to live at the Abbey when I was here
long ago."

"Well, it is as I tell you. Except Alice Trafford,--and that only in a
carriage, to exchange a word as she passed,--I have not seen one of the
Lyles for several weeks."

"And didn't she reproach you? Did n't she remark on your estrangement?"

"She said something,--I forget what," said he, impatiently.

"And what sort of an excuse did you make?"

"I don't remember. I suppose I blundered out something about being
engaged or occupied. It was not of much consequence, anyhow, for she did
n't attach any importance to my absence."

[Illustration: 266]

"Don't say that, Tony, for I remember my father saying, in one of his
letters, that he met Sir Arthur at the fair of Ballymena, and that he
said, 'If you should see Tony, doctor, tell him I 'm hunting for him
everywhere, for I have to buy some young stock. If I do it without Tony
Butler's advice, I shall have the whole family upon me.'"

"That's easy enough to understand. I was very useful and they were very
kind; but I fancy that each of us got tired of his part."

"They were stanch and good friends to you, Tony. I 'm sorry you 've
given them up," said she, sorrowfully.

"What if it was _they_ that gave me up? I mean, what if I found the
conditions upon which I went there were such as I could not stoop to?
Don't ask me any more about it; I have never let a word about it escape
my lips, and I am ashamed now to hear myself talk of it."

"Even to me, Tony,--to sister Dolly?"

"That's true; so you are my dear, dear sister," said he, and he
stooped and kissed her forehead; "and you shall hear it all, and how it
happened."

Tony began his narrative of that passage with Mark Lyle with which our
reader is already acquainted, little noticing that to the deep scarlet
that at first suffused Dolly's cheeks, a leaden pallor had succeeded,
and that she lay with half-closed eyes, in utter unconsciousness of what
he was saying.

"This, of course," said Tony, as his story flowed on,--"this, of course,
was more than I could bear, so I hurried home, not quite clear what
was best to be done. I had n't _you_, Dolly, to consult, you know;" he
looked down as he said this, and saw that a great tear lay on her cheek,
and that she seemed fainting. "Dolly, my dear,--my own dear Dolly,"
whispered he, "are you ill,--are you faint?"

"Lay my head back against the wal