"I don't know what it means, doctor; it 's all confusion to me. Who is
Tony? It's not our Tony, surely?"

"I'm not so sure of that, Mrs. Butler. Tony was up in London and he
called to see Dolly. You remember that he told in his letter to you how
the puir lassie's hair was cut short--"

"I remember it all, Dr. Stewart; but what has all that to do with all
this dreadful scene at night in the garden?" The doctor shook his head
mournfully, and made no reply. "If you mean, Dr. Stewart, that it was
my Tony that brought about all these disasters, I tell you I will not--I
cannot believe it. It would be better to speak your mind out, sir, than
to go on shaking your head. We're not altogether so depraved that our
disgrace is beyond words."

"There 's nothing for anger here, my dear old friend," said he, calmly,
"though maybe there's something for sorrow. When you have spoken to
your son, and I to my daughter, we 'll see our way better through this
thorny path. Good-bye."

"You are not angry with me, doctor?" said she, holding out her hand,
while her eyes were dimmed with tears,--"you are not angry with me?"

"That I am not," said he, grasping her hand warmly in both his own. "We
have no other treasures in this world, either of us, than this lad
and this lassie, and it's a small fault if we cling to them the more
closely. I think I see Tony coming to meet you, so I'll just turn home
again." And with another and more affectionate good-bye, they parted.

CHAPTER XXVIII. AT THE MANSE

In no small perturbation of mind was it that Mrs. Butler passed
her threshold. That a word should be breathed against her Tony, was
something more than she could endure; that he could have deserved it,
was more than she could believe. Tony, of whom for years and years she
had listened to nothing but flatteries, how clever and ready-witted he
was, how bold and fearless, how kind-hearted, and how truthful,--ay, how
truthful! and how is it then, asked she of herself, that he has told
me nothing of all this mischance, and what share he has had in bringing
misfortune upon poor Dolly?

"Is Master Tony at home, Jenny?" said she, as she entered.

"Yes; he's reading a letter that has just come wi' the post."

The old lady stopped, with her hand on the handle of the door, to draw a
full breath, and regain a calm look; but a merry laugh from Tony, as he
sat reading his letter, did more to rally her, though her heart smote
her to think how soon she m