II.

At dinner, after Dennis had given Tom his cup of coffee and cigars,

and disappeared with an accustomed air of thoughtfully leaving the

family alone for a private interview, Mrs. Burton, who sometimes

lingered if she felt like talking, and sometimes went away to the

drawing-room to take a brief nap before she began her evening book,

and before Tom joined her for a few minutes to say good-night if he

were going out,--Mrs. Burton left her chair more hurriedly than usual.

Tom meant to be at home that evening, and was all ready to speak of

his plan for some Southern shooting, and he felt a sudden sense of

disappointment.

"Don't go away," he said, looking up as she passed. "Is this a bad

cigar?"

"No, no, my dear," said the old lady, hurrying across the room in an

excited, unusual sort of way. "I wish to show you something while we

are by ourselves." And she stooped to unlock a little cupboard in the

great sideboard, and fumbled in the depths there, upsetting and

clanking among some pieces of silver. Tom joined her with a pair of

candles, but it was some moments before she could find what she

wanted. Mrs. Burton appeared to be in a hurry, which almost never

happened, and in trying to help her Tom dropped much wax unheeded at

her side.

"Here it is at last," she said, and went back to her seat at the

table. "I ought to tell you the stories of some old silver that I keep

in that cupboard; if I were to die, nobody would know anything about

them."

"Do you mean the old French spoons, and the prince's porringer, and

those things?" asked Tom, showing the most lively interest. But his

grandmother was busy unfastening the strings of a little bag, and

shook her head absently in answer to his question. She took out and

handed to him a quaint old silver cup with two handles, that he could

not remember ever to have seen.

"What a charming old bit!" said he, turning it about. "Where in the

world did it come from? English, of course; and it looks like a

loving-cup. A copy of some old Oxford thing, perhaps; only they didn't

copy much then. I should think it had been made for a child." Tom

turned it round and round and drew the candles toward him. "Here's an

inscription, too, but very much worn."

"Put it down a minute," said Mrs. Burton impatiently. "Every time I

have thought of it I have been more and more ashamed to have it in the

house. People weren't so shocked by such things at first; they would

only be sentimental about the ruined homes, and say that, 'after all,

it was the fortune of war.' That cup was stolen."

"But who stole it?" inquired Tom, with deep interest.

"Your father brought it here," said Mrs. Burton, with great spirit,

and even a tone of reproach. "My son, Tom Burton, your father, brought

it home from the war. I think his plan was to keep it safe to send

back to the owners. But he left it with your mother when he was

ordered suddenly to the front; he was only at home four days, and the

day after he got back to camp was the day he was killed, poor boy"--

"I remember something about it now," Tom hastened to say. "I remember

my mother's talking about the breaking up of Southern homes, and all

that; she never believed it until she saw the cup, and I thought it

was awfully silly. I was at the age when I could have blown our own

house to pieces just for the sake of the racket."

"And that terrible year your grandfather's and your mother's death

followed, and I was left alone with you--two of us out of the five

that had made my home"--

"I should say one and a half," insisted Tom, with some effort. "What a

boy I was for a grandson! Thank Heaven, there comes a time when we are

all the same age! We are jolly together now, aren't we? Come, dear old

lady, don't let's think too much of what's gone by;" and he went round

the table and gave her a kiss, and stood there where she need not look

him in the face, holding her dear thin hand as long as ever she liked.

"I want you to take that silver cup back, Tom," she said presently, in

her usual tone. "Go back and finish your coffee." She had seldom

broken down like this. Mrs. Burton had been self-possessed, even to

apparent coldness, in earlier life.

"How in the world am I going to take it back?" asked Tom, most

businesslike and calm. "Do you really know just where it came from?

And then it was several years ago."

"Your grandfather knew; they were Virginia people, of course, and

happened to be old friends; one of the younger men was his own

classmate. He knew the crest and motto at once, but there were two or

three branches of the family, none of them, so far as he knew, living

anywhere near where your father was in camp. Poor Tom said that there

was a beautiful old house sacked and burnt, and everything scattered

that was saved. He happened to hear a soldier from another regiment

talking about it, and saw him tossing this cup about, and bought it

from him with all the money he happened to have in his pockets."

"Then he didn't really steal it himself!" exclaimed Tom, laughing a

little, and with a sense of relief.

"No, no, Tom!" said Mrs. Burton impatiently. "Only you see that it

really is a stolen thing, and I have had it all this time under my

roof. For a long time it was packed away with your father's war

relics, those things that I couldn't bear to see. And then I would

think of it only at night after I had once seen it, and forget to ask

any one else while you were away, or wait for you to come. Oh, I have

no excuse. I have been very careless, but here it has been all the

time. I wish you would find out about the people; there must be some

one belonging to them--some friend, perhaps, to whom we could give it.

This is one of the things that I wish to have done, and to forget.

Just take it back, or write some letters first: you will know what to

do. I should like to have the people understand."

"I'll see about it at once," said Tom, with great zest. "I believe you

couldn't have spoken at a better time. I have been thinking of going

down to Virginia this very week. I hear that they are in a hurry with

fitting out that new scientific expedition in Washington that I

declined to join, and they want me to come on and talk over things

before they are off. One of the men is a Virginian, an awfully good

fellow; and then there's Clendennin, my old chum, who's in Washington,

too, just now; they'll give me my directions; they know all Virginia

between them. I'll take the cup along, and run down from Washington

for a few days, and perhaps get some shooting."

Tom's face was shining with interest and satisfaction; he took the cup

and again held it under the candle-light. "How pretty this old chasing

is round the edge, and the set of the little handles! Oh, here's the

motto! What a dear old thing, and enormously old! See here, under the

crest," and he held it toward Mrs. Burton:--

_"Je vous en prie Bel-ami."_

Mrs. Burton glanced at it with indifference. "Yes, it is charming, as

you say. But I only wish to return it to its owners, Tom."

_"Je vous en prie Bel-ami."_

Tom repeated the words under his breath, and looked at the crest

carefully.

"I remember that your grandfather said it belonged to the Bellamys,"

said his grandmother. "Of course: how could I forget that? I have

never looked at it properly since the day I first saw it. It is a

charming motto--they were very charming and distinguished people. I

suppose this is a pretty way of saying that they could not live

without their friends. I beg of you, Belami;--it is a quaint fancy;

one might turn it in two or three pretty ways."

"Or they may have meant that they only looked to themselves for what

they wanted, _Je vous en prie Bellamy!_" said Tom gallantly. "All

right; I think that I shall start to-morrow or next day. If you have

no special plans," he added.

"Do go, my dear; you may get some shooting, as you say," said

Mrs. Burton, a little wistfully, but kindly personifying Tom's

inclination.

"You've started me off on a fine romantic adventure," said the young

man, smiling. "Come; my cigar's gone out, and it never was good for

much; let's go in and try the cards, and talk about things; perhaps

you'll think of something more about the Bellamys. You said that my

grandfather had a classmate"--

Mrs. Burton stopped to put the cup into its chamois bag again, and

handed it solemnly to Tom, then she took his arm, and dismissing all

unpleasant thoughts, they sat down to the peaceful game of cribbage to

while away the time. The grandson lent himself gayly to

pleasure-making, and they were just changing the cards for their

books, when one of the elder friends of the house appeared, one of the

two or three left who called Mrs. Burton Margaret, and was greeted

affectionately as Henry in return. This guest always made the dear

lady feel young; he himself was always to the front of things, and had

much to say. It was quite forgotten that a last charge had been given

to Tom, or that the past had been wept over. Presently, the late

evening hours being always her best, she forgot in eager talk that she

had any grandson at all, and Tom slipped away with his book to his own

sitting-room and his pipe. He took the little cup out of its bag

again, and set it before him, and began to lay plans for a Southern

journey.