TRISTRAM OF BLENT.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1536, 7 August 1901, Page 10

TRISTRAM OF BLENT.

AN EPISODE IN THE STORY OF AN ANCIENT HOUSE

(By Anthony Hope.)

[ALL RIGHTS STRICTLY RESERVED]

(Copyright, 1901, in the U.S.A. by An-

thony Hope.)

CHAPTER XXVII.

BEFORE TRANSLATION.

Hafry Tristram had come back to Blent in the mood which belonged to the place as of old—the mood that claimed as his right what had become his by love,. knew no scruples if only he could gain and keep it, was ready to play a bold game and take a great chance. H© did not argue about what he was going to do. He did not justify it, and perhaps could not. Yet to him what he purposed was so clearly the best thing that Cecily must be forced into it. She could not be forced by force; if he told her the truth, he would meet at the outset a resistance which he could not quell. He might encounter that after all, later on, in spite of a present success. That was the risk he was determined to run. At the worst there would be something gained; if sh e were and would he nothing else, she should and must at least be mistress of Blent. His imagination had set her in that place; his pride, no less than his love, demanded it for her. He had gone away once that she might have it. If need be, again he would go away. That stood for decision later.

Sh© walked slowly to the end of the Long Gallery, and sat down in th© great armchair; it held its old position in spite of the changes which Harry noted with quick eyes and a suppressed smile as he followed her and set the candl© on a table near. He lit two mor e from it, and then turned to her. She was pale and defiant.

“Well,” she said, “why are you here ?”

She asked and he gave no excuse for the untimely hour of his visit, and no explanation of it. It seemed a small, perhaps, indeed, a natural thing to both of them. “I’m here because I couldn’t keep away,” he answered gravely, standing before h®r.

“You promised to keep away. Can’t you keep promises?” “No, not such promises as that.” “And so you make my life impossible! You see this room, and you se© how I’ve changed it? I’ve been changing everything I could. Why? To forget you, to blot you out, to be rid of you. I’ve been bringing myself to take my place. To-night I seemed at last to be winning my way t 0 it. Now you come. You gave me all this; why do you make it impossible to me?” A bright colour came on her cheeks now as she grew vehement in her reproaches, and her voic© was intense, though low.

A luxury of joy swept over him as he listened. Every taunt witnessed to his power, every reproach to her love. He played a trick indeed and a part, hut there was no trick and no acting in so far as he was her lover. If that truth could not redeem his deception, it stifled all sense of guilt. “And you wer© forgetting? You were getting rid of me ?” he asked, smiling and fixing his eyes on her. “Perhaps. And now—■ —!” She made a gesture of despair. “Tell me—why have you come?” Her tone changed to entreaty. “I’ve come because I must be where you are, because I was mad to send you away before, mad not to come to you before, to think I could live without you, not to see that we two must be together; because you’re everything to me.” He had come nearer to her now, and stood by her. “Ever since I went .awau_. I have seen you in this room, in

a moment. “I wouldn’t have the ghost. L didn’t know why. Now I know. I wanted th© you that was here —the real y OU —as you had beerf on the night I went away. So I’ve com© back to you. We're ourselves here, Cecily. We Tristrams are ourselves at Blent.” She had listened silently, her eyes on his. She seemed bewildered by the sudden rush of his passion and the enraptured eagerness of his words that mad© her own vehemence sound to her poor and thin. Pride had its share in her protest, love was the sole spring of his intensity. Yet sh© was puzzled by the victorious light in his eyes. What he said, what he came to do, was such a surrender as she had never hoped from him ; and he was triumphant in surrendering. The thought flashed through her mind, troubling her and for the time hindering her joy in his confession. She did not trust iim yet “I’ve had an offer made to me,” he resumed, regaining his composure. “A sort of political post. If I accept it I shall have to leave England for a considerable time, almost immediately. That brought the thing to a point.” Again he laughed. “It’s important to you, too; because if they say no to me to-night, you’ll be rid of me for ever so long. Your life won’t be made impossible. I shouldn’t come to Blent again.” “A post that would take you away?” she murmured. “Yes. You’d be left here in peace. I’ve not come to blackmail you into loving me, Cecily. Yes, you shall be left in peac© to move the furniture about.” Glancing towards the table, h© saw Mr Gainsborough’s birthday gift. He took it up, looked at it for a moment, and then replaced it. His manner was involuntarily expressive. Even if she brought that sort of thing to Blent • ! He turned back at the sound of a little laugh from Cecil} 7 , and found her eyes sparkling. “Father’s birthday present, Harry,” said she.

Delighted with her mirth, he came to her, holding out his hands. She shook her head and leant back, looking at him.

“Sit as my mother did. You know. Yes, like that!” he cried. She had obeyed him with a smile. Not to be denied now, he seized the hand that lay in her lap.

“A birthday! Yes, of course, you’re twenty-one! Really mistress of it all now! And you don’t know what to do with it, except to spoil the arrangement of th e furniture ?” She laughed low and luxuriously. “What am I to do with it?” she asked.

“Well, won’t you give it all to me?” As he spoke he laughed and kissed her hand. “I’ve come to ask you for it. Here I am. I’ve come fortune-hunting to-night.” “It’s all min e now, you say? Harry, take it Without me.”

“If I did I’d burn it to the ground that it mightn’t remind me of you.” “Yes, yes! That’s what I’ve wanted to do!” she exclaimed, drawing her hand <out of his and raising her arms a moment in the air. Addie Tristram’s pose was gone, but Harry did not miss it. now.

“Take it without you, indeed! It’s all for you and because of you.” “Really, really?” She grew grave. “Harry, dear, for pity’s sake tell me if you love me!” “Haven’t I told you?” he cried gaily. “Where are the poets? Oh, for some good quotations! I’m infernally unpoetical, I know. Is this it—that you’re always before my e}-es, always in my head, that you’re terribly in the way, that when I’ve got anything worth thinking I think it to you, anything worth doing I do it for you, anything good to say I say it to you? Is this it, that I curse myself and curse you ? Is this it, that I know myself only as your lover, and that if I’m not that then I seem nothing at all. I’ve never been in love before, but all that sounds rather like it.”

“And you’ll take Blent from me ?” “Yes, as the climax of all, I’ll take Blent from you.” To her it seemed the climax, the thing she found hardest to believe, the best evidence for the truth of those extravagant words which sounded so sweet in her ears. Harry saw this, but he held on his way. Nay, now h© himself forgot his trick, and could still have gone on had there been none, had he in truth been accepting Blent from her hands. Even at the price of prid e he would have had her now.

She rose suddenly, and began to walk to and fro across the end of the room, while he stood by the table watching her.

“Well, isn’t it time you said something to me?” he suggested with a smile. “Give me time, Harry, give me time. The world’s all changed to-night. You—yes, you oame suddenly out of the darkness of the night”—she waved her hand towards the window —“and changed the world for me. How am Ito believe it? And if I can believe it, what can I say ? Let me alone for a minute, Harry, dear.” He was well content to wait and watch. All time seemed before them, and how better could he fill it? He seemed himself to suffer in this hour a joyful trans formation; t Q know better why men lived and loved to live, to reach out to the full strength and the full function of his being. The world changed for him as he changed it for her.

posite to him. She put her hands up t© her throat, saying: “I’m stifled —stifled with happiness, Harry.” • For answer he sprang forward ana ! caught her in his arms. In the move- ; ment he brushed roughly against the | table; there was a little crash, and poor 'Mr Gainsborough’s birthday gift lay smashed on the floor. For the second time their love bore hard on Mr Gainst borough’s crockery. Startled they turni ed to look, and then they both broke into merry laughter. The trumpery thing j had seemed a sign to them, and now the sign was broken. Their first kiss was mirthful over its destruction. With a sigh of joy she disengaged herself from him. j “That’s settled, then,” said Harry. H® ! paused a moment. “You had Janie and I Bob Broadley here to-night. I saw them as I lay hidden by the road. Does that kind of engagement attract you, Cecily ?” i “Ours won’t b© like that,” she said, : laughing triumphantly, j “Don’t let us have one at all,” he sug» ! gested, coming near to her again. “Let’s i have n o engagement. Just a wedding.” “What?” she cried. “It must be a beastly time,” he went on, "and all the talk there’s been about us will make it more beastly still. Fancy Miss S. and all the rest of them! And do yon particularly want to wait? What II want is to be settled down here with i you!”

Her eyes sparkled as she listened; she was in the mood, she was of th® ' stuff, for any adventure, j “I should like to run off with you ! now,” said he. “I don’t want to leave ; you at all, } 7 ou see.” i “Run off now?” She gave a joyful i littl e laugh. “That’s just what I should like.” “Then we’ll dq it,” he declared. “Well, to-morrow morning, anyhow.” “Do you mean it?” she asked. “Do you say no to it.” Sh© drew herself up with pride. “I say no to nothing that you ask of me.” Their hands met again as she declared her love and trust. “You’ve really I com© to me?” he heard her murmur. I “Back to Blent and back to< me ?” “Yes,” he answered, smiling. She had brought into his mind again the truth she did not know. He had no tim© to think of it, for she offered him her lips again. The moment when he might have told her thus went by. It was but an impulse; for h 6 still loved | what he was doing, and took delight in ! the risks of it. And he could not bear I so to impair her joy. Soon she must j know, but she oould not yet be robbed | of her joy that it was she who could j bring him back to Blent. For him in I his knowledge, for her in her ignorance, there was an added richness of pleasure , that he would not throw away, even although now he believed that were th® . truth known she would come to him still; j Must not that be, since now he, even, j he would come to her, though the truth ! had been otherwise. “There’s a train from Fillingford at I eight in the morning. I’m going back ! there to-night. I’ve got a fly waiting , by the pool—if th e man hasn’t gone to ' sleep and the hors© run away. Will you ! meet me there ? We’ll go up to town and be married as soon as we can —the day after to morrow, I suppose.” /‘And then ?” “Oh, then just come back here. W® ' can go nowhere but- here, Cecily.” I “Just come back and ?” I “And let them find it out, and talk, 'and talk, and talk!” he laughed, j "Ifc would be delightful!” she cried, j “Nobody to know till it’s done.” I “Yes, yes; I like it like that. Not ! father even, though ?” j “You’ll be gone before he’s up. Leav® ; a line for him.” “But I—l can’t go alone with you.” “Why not ?” asked Harry, seeming a 1 trifle vexed. j “I’ll tell you!” she cried. “Let’s take ! Mina with us, Harry.” I He laughed. The Imp was the one j person whose presence he was ready to | endure. Indeed, there would perhaps j be a piquancy in that, j “All right. An elopement made rej spectable by Mina!” He had a touch of scorn even for mitigated respeofcability. “Shall We call her and tell her now?” “Well, are you tired of this inter- | view ?” . ,C I don’t know whether I want it to go on, or whether I must go and tell somebody about it.” ! “I shouldn’t hesitate,” smiled Harry* I “You? No. But I—Oh, Harry, dear, ! I want to whisper my triumph.” { “But we must be calm and businesslike about it now.” j “Yes!” She entered eagerly into th® ; fun. “That’ll puzzle Mina even more.” ! “We’re not doing anything unusual,” ■ he insisted, with affected gravity, j “No—not fior our family, at least.” “It’s just th© obvious thing to do.” i “Oh! tit’s just th« delicious thing, too !” She almost danced in gaiety. “Let me call Mina. Do!” j “.Not for a moment, as you-love m«! Give me a moment more!” ! “Oh, Harry, there’ll be no end t© that!” “I don’t know why ther© should be.”

“We should miss the train, at Fillingford.” “Ah, if it means thatl” “Or I shall come sleepy and ugly to it; and you’d leave me on the platform and ga away!” “Shout for Mina—now —without another word!” A • “Oh, just one more,” she pleaded, laughing. “I can ? t promise to be moderate.” “Come. We’ll go and find her. Give me your hand.” J3he caught his hand in hers, and snatched the candle from the table. She held it high above her head, looking round the room and back to his eyes again. “My home now, because my love is here/’ she said. “Mine and yours, and yours and mine—and both th e same thing, Harry, now.” He listened, smiling. Yes, it would he the same thing now. There they stood together for a moment, and together they sighed as they turned away. To them the room was sacred now, as it had always been beautiful; in it their love seemed to li© enshrined. They went downstairs together full of merriment, the surface expression of their joy. “Look grave,” he whispered, setting his faoe in a comical exaggeration of seriousness. Cecily tried to obey and tumbled into a gurgle of delight. “I will directly,” s be gasped, as they cam© to the hall. Mason stood there waiting. 'Tve put the sandwiches here, and the old brown, my lord.” Harry alone noticed the slip in his address—and Harry took no notice of it.

“I shall he glad to meet the old brown again,” ,he said, smiling. Mason gave the pair a benevolent glance and withdrew to his quarters. Mina strolled out of the library with an accidental air. Harry had sat down t© his sandwiches and old brown. Cecily rah across to Mina and kissed her.

tf lt looks as if it were true enough,” admitted Harry. “Really, I must go,” he added. “I can’t keep that fly all night. I shall se© you in the morning, Madame Zabriska. Eight o’clock, at Fillingford!” “Tm really to go with you? she gasped. ‘*iTes, yes. I thought all that was settled,” said he, rather impatiently. “Bring a pretty frock. I want my wedding to be done handsomely—in a style that suits the wedding of ” He looked at Cecily— £f of Lady Tristram of Blent.” “Cecily, it’s not all a joke?” “Yes l” cried Cecily. “All a delicious joke! But we’re going to be married.” After a moment’s hesitation Mina came across to Harry, holding out her hands. “I’m glad; I’m so glad,” she murmured, with a little catch in her roice. He took her hands and pressed them; he looked at her very kindly, though he smiled still. “Yes, it undoes all the mistakes, doesn’t it ?” he said. “At least I hope it will,” he added th e next moment with E laugh. “It’s really the only way to be married,” declared Cecily. “Well, for you people—for you extra--ordinary Tristrams—l daresay it is,” said Mina.

“You’ll come?” Cecily implored. “She couldn’t keep away,” mocked Harry. “She’s got to see the end of us.” “Yes, and our new beginning. Oh, what Blent’s going to be, Mina! If you don’t come with us now we won’t let you stay at Merrion. “I’m ooming,” said Mina. Indeed she would not have stayed away. If she had needed further inducement the next moment supplied it. You’re to be our only confidant, said Harry. “Yes! Till it’s all over, nobody’s to

“We’re going to b© married!” she whispered. Sh© had told it all in a sentence; yet she added: “Oh, I’ve such a heap of things to tell you, Mina!” Was not all that scene in the Long Gallery to be reproduced—doubtless only in a faint adumbration of its real glory, yet with a sense of recovering it and living it again? “No!” cried Mina. did! Soon?” Harry threw a quick glance at Cecily. “Don’t run it too fine,” he said. '‘GoodShe responded by assuming a demure night, Madame Zabriska-” calmness of demeanour. ' She gave him her hand, and he held “Not as soon as we could wish,” said {t for a moment. He grew a little Harry, munching and sipping. “In fact, grave, but there was still a twinkle in not befor© the day after to-morrow, I’m ©yes. afraid, Madame Zabriska.” “You’re a good friend,” he said. “I '.‘The day after ?” • shall come on you again if I want you, “What I have always hated is Govern- you know.” He raised her hand to his ment interference. Why oan’t Ibe mar- lips and kissed it. ried when I like ? Why have I to get “I don’t know that I care much about * licence and all that nonsense? Why any thing except you two,” stammered -must I wait till the day after to*mor- Mina. row?” He grew indignant. . He gripped her hand again. She “It’s past twelve now; it is to-mor- seemed well paid. He held out his hand row,” said Cecily. to Cecily. Mina understood. “Quite go. As you suggest, Cecily, we . “I shall b e up for a little while Cec.could be married to-day but for these ily. Come to m© before you go to bed,’ absurd restrictions. There’s a train at ! she said, and she stood in the hall, eight from Fillingford ——— 99 j watching them as they walked lout to“You’r© going—both of you—by that ?” | gether. There was joy in her heart— Mina cried. i aye, and envy. The two brought tears ‘T hope it suits you, because we want to her eye s and struggled which shtmld you to come with us, if you’ll b© so make the better claim to them. But kind,” said Harry. they do like me!” she said m a plaintive '‘You it would look just a little yet pdad little cry, as she was left alone unusual if we went alone,” added Cec- the silent old hall. ilj. l| So still was the night that a man ‘And it’s not going to look unusual might hear the voice of his heart and anyhow? - Are you mad? Or—or do a giri the throb of hers. And they were you mean it?” . alone, or only the friendly-murmur of “Don’t you think both may be true?” o ld Blent wa 3 with them, seeming to asked Harry. Cecily’s gravity broke w hispe,r congratulations on their joy. down. She kissed Mina again, laughing Her arm was through his, very white on in an abandonment of exultation. his sleeve, and she leant on him heavily. “Oh, you’re both mad.” j “After tempests, dear,” said he. “Not at? all. You’re judging us by the j “There shall be no more, no more, standard of your other engaged couple Harry.” to-night.” . j “Oh, I don’t know that. I shall like “Did Mr Neeld know anything about y OU j n them, perhaps. And there may your coming?” Mina demanded, with he one more, anyhow.” A sudden recollection. j “You’re laughing, Harry.’” “Nothing at all. Did he say anything j “Why; yes, at anything just now.” to you?” For a moment the glass of : “Yes, at anything,” she murmured, old brown halted on its way to his lips, j “I could laugh or cry—at anything just and he glanced at Mina sharply. now.” “No. - But when I asked him if he had They came to the little bridge and seen you he looked—well, just rather passed on to it. funny.” j “We talked here the first evening,” The old brown resumed its progress. ! sa id she. “And how you puzzled me! Harry was content. ; It began for me then, dear Harry:” '‘There’s no better meal than fresh 1 “Yes, and for me a little sooner y sandwiches and old brown,” he observed, the pool for me. I was keeping you out “You’ll come with us, won’t you, and of y° ur own . then \ vniir<J keep Cecily company at the little hous© “Never mine unless it could be yours till w© fix it up.” . to °- . . . , Mina looked from one to the other m Fallen into silence again, they reachnew amazement, with all her old excited ed the road, and moved by the same mpleasure in the Tristram ways. They stinefc, turned to look back at Blent, did a thing—and they jiid not spoil it The grip of her hand tightened 1 on his by explanations.” arm. “And Mr Gainsborough?” she asked. \ “There’s nothing that would make you “We’re going to leave a not© for leave me?” she whispered, father,” smiled Cecily. j “Not you yourself, I think,” said he. “You’re always doing that,’’ objected j “It’s very wonderful,” she breathed. Mina. ■ ! '‘Listen! There’s no sound. Yes, af« “It seems rather an early tram for Mr ter tempests, Harry!” Gainsborough,” Harry suggested, laying “i am g i a d G f it all,” he said, suddown his napkin. denly and in a louder tone. “I’ve been “Oh, why . don’t you/tell me something made a man, and I’ve found you, the About it?” cried Mina despairingly, woman for me. It was hard at the “But it’s true ? The great thing’s true, time, but I am glad of it. It has come Anyhow, isn’t it . and it has gone, and I’m glad ©f it.” •‘Well, what do you think I came down j h© had spoken unwarily in saying it from town for?” inquired Harry. # ! was gone. But she thought he spoke of “And why hav© we been so long in his struggle only and his hesitation, not th© Gallery, Mina?” ’of their cause. “You’vegiven in, then?” exclaimed the “You gave when you might have kept. Imp, pointing a finger in triumph is always yours, Harry. Oh, and At Harry. . # what is it all now? No, no, its’ some. “Mina, how can you say a thing like thing still. It’s in us—in us both, I

know but you, Mina.” The Imp was hit on her weak spot. She was tremendously eager to go. “Eight .o’clock. Oh, can we he ready, Cecily?” “Of course we shall be ready,” said Cecily scornfully. Harry had taken his hat from the table, and came up to shake hands. He was imperturbably calm and businesslike.

“Oh, how splen-

He stopped on the road. “Come no further. The fly’s only a little way on, and while I see you, I will see nobody else to-night. Till the morning, dearest —and you won’t fail?” “No, I won’t fail. Should I fail to greet my first morning.” H e pushed the hair a little back from her forehead and kissed her brow. “God do so unto me and more also if my love ©ver fails you,” said he. “Kiss me as I kissed you. And so goodnight.” _ _ She obeyed and let him go. Once and twice he looked back at her as he took his way, and she stood still on the road. She heard his voice speaking to the flyman, the flyman’s exhortation to his horse, the sounds of the wheels receding along the road* Then slowly she went back.

“This is what they mean,” she murmured to herself. “This is what they mean.” It was the joy past expression, th© contentment past understanding. And all in one evening they ;had sprung up for her out of a barren, thirsty land. Blent had never been beautiful before, or the river sparkled as it ran; youth was not known as before, and beauty had been thrown away. The world was changed; and it was very wonderful. When Cecily went into her th© Imp was packing; with critical care she stowed-her smartest frock in the trunk.

“I must be up early and see about the carriage,” sh® remarked. “I daresay Mason . But you’r© not listening, Cecily.”

“No, I wasn’t listening,” said Cecily, scorning apology or excuse, “You people in love are very silly. That’s the plain English of it,” observed Mina loftily. Cecily 16oked at her a minute; then stretched her arms and sighed in luxurious weariness. “I daresay that’s the plain English of it,” she admitted. “But, oh, how different it sounds before translation, dear!”

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE CAT AND THE BELL.

Mr Gainsborough lost his head. He might have endured the note that had been left for him—it said only that his daughter had gone to town for a couple of days with Mina Zabriska; besides he had had notes left for him before. But there was Mason’s account of the evening and of th© morning—-of Harry’s arrival, of the conference m the Long Gallery, of the sandwiches and the old brown, of the departure of th© ladies at seven o’clock. Mason was convinced that something was up; knowing Mr Harry as he did, and her late ladyship as he had, he really would not like to hazard an opinion what. Mr Gainsborough, however, could see for himself that candles had been left to burn themselves out and that china had been broken in the Long Gallery. Availing himself dexterously of his subordinate position, Mason was open to state facts, but respectfully declined to draw inferences. Gainsborough rushed off to tb e Long Gallery. There lay his bit of Chelsea on the floor—upset, smashed, not picked up! There must hav e been a convulsion indeed, he declared, as ruefully and t©n_ derly he gathered up the fragments. Quite off his balance and forgetful of perils, he ordered the pony chaise and had himself driven to Blentmouth. He felt that he must tell somebody, and borrow some conclusions—he was not equal to making any of his own. He must carry the news.

He deceived himself, and did gross injustice to the neighbourhood. FiUingf.ord is but twelve miles inland from Blentmouth, and there are three hours between eight and eleven. He was making for Fairholme. While yet half a mil© off he overtook Miss Swinkerton, heading in the same direction, ostentatiously laden with savings bank books. With much decision she requested a lift, got in, and told him all about how Harry had escorted Cecily and Madame Zabriska from Fillingford that morning. The milkman had told the butcher, the butcher had told th© postman, the post_ man had told her, and—well, she had mentioned it* to Mrs Trumbler. Mrs Trumbler was at Fairholme now.

“Mr Tristram had been staying with you, of course? How nice to think there’s no feeling of Storeness,” observed Miss S.

In Gainsborough at least there was no feeling save of bewilderment. “Staying with us? No, I haven’t so much as seen him,” he stammered out.

Immediately Miss S. was upon him, and by the time thev reached Fairholme had left him with no mor e than a few rags of untold details. Then with unrivalled effrontery she declared that she had forgotten to call at the grocer’s, and marched off. In an hour the new and complete version of the affair was all over the town. Mrs Trumbler had got first to Fairholme, but she did not wrest the laurels 'from Miss S’s brow. The mere departure fr.om Fillingford shrank to nothing in comparison with the attendant circumstances supplied by Mr Gainsborough. “They don’t know what to think at Fairholme,” Mrs Trumbler reported. “I daresay not, my dear,” said Miss S. grimly.

.“They were dining there that very night, and not a word was said about it ; and none of them saw Mr Tristram. He oam e quite suddenly, and went off again with Lady Tristram.” “And Mina Zabriska, my dear.”

who were inclined to believe, against all common sense, that Cecily had eloped with her cousin—Why, in heaven’s name, elope, when you have all the power and a negligible parent?—stumbled over Mina. Well, then’, was it with Mina Harry had eloped? Miss S. threw out hints in this direction. Why then Cecily? Miss S. was not at a loss. She said nothing, no; but if it should turn out that Cecily’s presence was secured as a protection against the wrath of Major Duplay (who, everybody knew, hated Harry), she, Miss S., would be less surprised than many of those who conceived themselves to know everything. A Cecily party and a Mina party grew up—and a third party, who would have none of either, and declared that they had their own Ideas, and that time would show.

Gossip raged; and old Mr Neeld sat in the middle of th© conflagration. How his record of evasion, nay, of downright, falsehood, mounted up! False facts and fictious reasons flowed from his lips. There was pathos in the valour with which he maintained his position; he was hard pressed, but he did not fall. There was a joy, too, in the fight.- For he alone of all Blentmouth knew the great secret, and guessed that what was happening had to do with the secret. Harry had asked silence for a week; before two days of it were gone oam© this news.

“If they do mean to b e married,” said Janie, “why couldn’t they do it decently?” She meant with the respectable deliberation of her own alliance.

“Tristram’s a queer fellow,” pondered Bob Broadley. “I only hop© he isn’t rushing her into it—on purpose. What do you think, Mr Neeld?” “My dear Janie——”

“He may not want to give her time to think. It’s not a good match for her now, is it?”

“I—l can’t think that Harry Tristram would ”

“Well, Neeld,” said Iver, judicially, “I’m not so sure. Master Harry can play a deep game when he likes. I know that very well—and to my cost, too.”

What Janie hinted and Iver did not discard was a view which found some supporters, and where -it was entertained poor Mina Zabriska’s character was gone. Miss S. herself was all but caught by the idea, and went so far as to say that she had never thought highly of Madame Zabriska, while the major was known to be impecunious. There was a nefariousness about the new suggestion that proved very attractive in Blentmouth.

Late in the day came fresh tidings, new fuel for the flamesT Mr Gainsborough had into Blentmouth and taken the train for London. Two portmanteaux and a wicker crate, plausibly conjectured to contain between them all his worldly possessions, had accompanied him on the journey. He was leaving Blent, then, if not for ever, at least for a long while. He had evaded notice in his usual fashion, and nearly driven over Miss S. when she tried to get in the way. Miss S. was partly consoled by a bit of luck that followed. She met Mina’s cook, com© down from Merrion to buy household stores. Her mistress was to return to her own house on the morrow! Ther© seemed no need to search for inferences. They leapt to light. Either Blent was to shut up, or it was to receive a wedded pair. On this alternative the factions split, and the battle was furious. Mrs Trumbler definitely fought Miss S. for the first time in her life. On one point only the whole town agreed. It was being cheated, either out of the wedding which was its right, or e ls e out of the ball in the winter to which Miss S. had irrevocably committed Lady Tristram. The gopularity of Blent fell to nothing in ie enighbourhood.

The next morning Mr Neeld gained th© reward of virtue, and becam e a hero in spite of his discretion. At breakfast he received a telegram. Times were critical, and all eyes were on him as h e read and re-read and frowned perplexedly. Then he turned to Iver. “Can you let me have a trap this afternoon, Iver?” “Of course, of course. But you’re not going to leave us, I hope?” “Only just for the evening. I—in fact, I have to go to Blent.” There was a moment’s silence. Glances were exchanged, while Neeld made half-hearted efforts to grapple with an egg. Then Bob. Broadley broke out with a laugh: 1 ’ “Oh hang it all, out with it, Mr Neeld.” “Well, I’m 'not told to be silent, and it must become known immediately, Madame Zabriska telegraphs to me that they are t© be married e arly this morning and will come to Blent by the 1.30 train. She herself leaves by the eleven o’clock, will b© ther© at five, and wishes me to join her.” “By Jove, he’s done it, then!” exclaimed IverEverybody looked very solemn except Neeld, who was sadly confused. “Dear, dear!” murmured Mrs Iver.

“She must be much in love with him,® remarked Janie. . , “It’s his conduct mor e than hers which, needs explanation*” Ive r observed dryly. “And what do they want you for, Neeld?” If his tone and his question were not very flattering, they were excused by th© obvious fact that there

Neeld, or at any rat© seemed to all that party to b© none. ■ . . . “Oh—er—'why-—why, ho doubt it s only a fancy of Mina Zabriska’s.”- / ■ “A very queer fancy,” said Janie Iyer coldly. It was really a little annoying that old Mr Neeld should be the person wanted at Blent. . ‘Til drive you over,” Bob kindly volunteered. . - - r “Er—thank you, Broadley, but she asks me to come alone!” “Well, Tm hanged!” muttered Bob, who had seen a chanc© of being in at the death.

They were' coming straight down to Blent. That fact assumed an important place in Neeld’s review of the situation. And his presence was requested. He put these' two things together. They must mean that the secret was to he told that evening at' Blent, and that he was to be vouched as evidence, if by any chance Cecily asked for it. On the •very day of, the wedding the truth was to be revealed. In ignorance, perhaps in her own despite, sh© had been made in reality what she had conceived herself to he; to-day she was Lady Tristram in law. Now sh e was to be told. Neeld saw the choice that would be laid before her, and, at the same time, the use that had been made of his silence. He fell into a sore puzzle. Yes, Harry could play a deep game when he chose. . “It’s quite impossible to justify either the use he’s made of m© or the way he’s treated her,” he concluded sadly. “I shall speak very seriously to him about it.” But he knew that the serious speaking, however comforting it might be to himself as‘ a protest, would fall very lightly on Harry Tristram’s ears; their listening would, be for the verdict of another voice. “Do you think Disney will repeat his offer—will give him a chance of reconsidering now?” asked Iver, who had heard of the affair from Lord Southend. ‘Tm sure he wouldn’t, accept anything,” Neeld answered with remarkable promptitude and conviction. It was a luxury to find an opportunity of speaking the truth. “The least h e could do would be to leave that to her.” “She’d just say the same,” Neeld assured him. “I’m convinced there’ll be no question of anything of the kind.” “Then it’s very awkward,” Iver gram, bled crossly. •. > ; ■ In all his varied experience of the Imp—which included, it may b© remembered, a good deal of plain speaking and one embrace—Neeld had never found her in such a state as governed her this evening. Mason gave him tea while she walked restlessly about; he gathered that Mason was dying to talk, but had been sore wounded in an encounter with Mina already, and was now perforce holding his tongue. ' “They’ll be here by seven, and you and I are to dine with them,”- she told him. “Quit© informally.” “Dear me, I—l don’t think I want — —” he began. “Hush!” she interrupted. “Are you going to be all day with those things, Mason ? v ” < “I hope I haven’t been slower than usual, ma’am,” said Mason very stiffly. At last he went. In an instant Mina ' darted across to Neeld, and caught/ him by the arm. “What have you to tell me ?” she cried.

“To tell you? IP Oh, dear, no, Madame Zabriska! I assure you ——” “Oh, there’s no need for that. Harry said you were to tell me befor® they arrived; that’s why I sent for you now.” “He said I was to tell you ? “Yes, yes. Something you knew and I didn’t; something that would explain it all.” ' She stood before him with clasped hands. "It’s quit© true; he did say so,” ahe pleaded. “It’s all been so delightful and yet so strange ; and he told me to be ready either to stay here or to go home to-night! Tell me, tell me, Mr Neeld!”

“Wihy didn’t he tell you himself ?” “I only saw him alone for an instant after the wedding; and before it he didn’t say a word about there being / anything to tell. There’s a secret. What is itP” He was glad to tell it. He had carried his burden long enough.. “We’ve all made a great blunder. Harry is Lord Tristram after all.” Mina (Stood silent for., a moment. “Obi” she gasped. “And he’s married Cecily without telling her?” "That’s what he has done, I regret to say.* And I take it that he means to tell her to-night.” Mina sank into a chair. “What will she do?” sh e murmured. “What will she do?” “There was a mistake—or, rather, a fraud—about the date of Sir Randolph Edge’s death; his brother knew it. I’ll tell you the details if you like. But that’s the end and the sum of it. As t© why he didn’t tell her—er—his wife, sooner, perhaps you know better than I.” “Yes, I know that,” she said. And then-—it was most inconsiderate, most painful to Mr Neeld, she began to cry. Unable to bear this climax of excitement coining on the top of her two days’ emotion, she sobbed hysterically. “They’ll be here.at seven! she moaned. “What will happen? Oh, Mr Neeld! And I think he ? ll expect-me to be calm and— and to carry it off—and be com-

No, the old brown would not serve here. But without its aid a sudden change cam© over Mina. She sprang to her feet, and left the tears to roll down her cheeks untended as sh© Cried : ; “What a splendid thing to do! How like Harry ! And it’s to he settled tonight. What can we do to make ik go right ?” “I intend to take no responsibility at all,” protested Neeld. “I’m here to speak to- the. facts if I’m wanted, but “Oh, bother the facts! -What are we to do- to make her take it properly?” She gave another sob. “Oh, I’m an idiot!” she cried. “Haven’t you anything to suggest,. Mr Neeld?” He shrugged his shoulders peevishly. Her spirits fell again. “T see! Yes, if she —if she doesn’t take it properly, he’ll go away again, and I’m t 0 be ,ready to stay here.” An_ other change in the barometer came in a flash. “But she can’t help being Lady Tristram now!”

“It’s all a most unjustifiable proceeding. He tricks th© girl ” “Yes, he had to. That was the only chance. If he had told her before ” “But isn’t she in love with him ?”

“Oh, you don’t know th© Tristrams! Oh, what are we to do ?” Save running through every kind and degree of emotion; Mina seemed to find nothing to do.

“And I’m bound to say that I consider our position most embarrassing.” Mr Neeld spoke with som© warmth, with som© excuse, too, perhaps. To welcome a newly married couple home may be thought always t Q require som© tact; when it is a toss up whether they will not part again for ever under your eyes the situation is not improved. Such trials should not he inflicted on quiet old bachelors. Josiah Oholderton had not done with his editor yet. “We must treat it as a mere trifle,” the Imp announced, fixing on the thing which above all others sh e could not achieve. Yet her manner was so confident that Neeld gasped, “And if that doesn’t do, we must tell her that the happiness of her whole life depends on what sh® does to-nigl\fc.” Variety of treatment was evidently not to be lacking.

“In intend to take no responsibility of any kind. He’s got himself into a scrape. Let him get out of it,” persisted Neeld. “I thought you were his friend?” “I may be excused if I consider the lady a little too.” “I suppose I don’t care for Cecily? Do you mean that, Mr Neeld?” “My dear friend, need we quarrel, to,o?”

“Don’t be stupid? Who’s quarrelling? I never anybody so useless as you are. Can’t you do anything but sit there and talk about responsibilities?” She was ranging about, a diminutive tiger of unusually active habits. She had wandered round th© room again before she burst out: “Oh, but it’s something to see the end of it!”

That was his feeling, too, however much he might rebuke himself for it. Human life at first hand had not been too plentiful with him- The Imp’s excitement infected him. “And he’s back here after all!” sh e cried. “At least— Heavens, they’ll be her© direotly, Mr Neeld!”

“Yes, it’s past seven,” said be. “Com© into the garden. We’ll wait for them on the, bridge.” She turned to him as they passed through the hall. “Wouldn’t you like something of this sort to happn to you ?” she asked. No. He was perturbed enough as a spectator; he would not hav© been himself engaged in the play. “Why isn’t everybody here?” she demanded with a laugh that was again ner_ vous and almost hysterical. "Why isn’t Addi© Tristram here? Ah, and your old Cholderton ?”

"Hark, I hear wheels .on the road,” said Mr Neeld. Mina looked hard at him. “She shall do right,” she said, “and Harry shall not go.” “Surely they’ll make the best of a —-?”

“Oh, we’re not talking of your Ivers and your Broadley!” she interrupted indignantly. “If they were like that we should never have been where we are at all.”

How true it was, how lamentably true! One had t® 1- presuppose Addie Tristram, and turns of fortune or of chance wayward as Addie herself—and to reckon with the same blood, now in young and living veins. "I can’t bear it,” whispered Mina. “He’ll expect you to be calm and composed,” Neeld reminded her. “Then give me a cigarette,” she implored despairingly. “I am not a smoker,” said Mr Neeld.

“Oh, you really are the last man——! Well, 6om© on the bridge,” groaned Mina.

They waited on the bridge, and the wheels drew near. They spoke no, more. They had found nothing to do. They conld only wait. A fly came down the road.

There they sat, side by side. Cecily was leaning forward, her eyes were eager, and there was a bright touch of colour on her cheeks; Harry leant hack, looking at her, not at Blent. He wore a quiet smile; his air was very calm. He saw Mina and Neeld, and waved his hand to them. The fly stopped opposite the bridge. H« jumped .out and assisted

i nised Neeld’s presence with a little cry of surprise. At a loss to account for himself, the old man stood ther© in embarrassed wretchedness. “I want you to wait,” said Harry to the driver. “Put up in the stabels, and they’ll give you something to ea t* You must wait till I send you word.” I “Wait? Why is he to wait, Harry?” asked Cecily. Her tone was gay; she was overflowing with joy and merriment. “Who’s going away ? Oh, is it yon, Mr Neeld?” “I—l have a trap from Mr Iver’s,” h© stammered. “I may w'ant to send a message,’ Harry explained. “Kind of you to come, Mr Neeld.” “I—l must wish you joy,” said Neeld, taking refuge in conventionality. “We’ve had a capital journey down, ; haven’t we, Cecily ? _ And I’m awfully 1 hungry. What time is it ?” J Mason was rubbing his hands in the i doorway. .“Dinner’s ordered at eight, sir,” said

! he. I ‘'And it’s half-past seven now. Just time to wash our hands. No dress to- ; night, you know.” “I’ll go to my room,” said Cecily, j “Will you come with me, Mina?” | A glance from Harry made the I m P ; excuse herself. “I’ll keep Mr Neeld company,” she said. I . Cecily turned to her husband. She I smiled and blushed a little. | “I’ll take you as far as your room, said he. 1 Mina and Neeld watched them go upstairs. Then each dropped into a chair in the hall. Mason passed by, chuckling to himself. Neeld looked harmless, and he dared to speak to him. | “Well, this is the next best thing to Mr Harry coming back to ihis own, sir,” h®. j That was it. That was the feeling. ; Mason had got it! j “I’m glad of it after all,” Neeld confessed to Mina.. I “Wait, wait!” she urged, sitting ■ straight in her chair, apparently listening for any sound. Her obvious anxiety extended its contagion to him ; he understood better how nice the issue was. | “Will you come in the garden with me j after dinner?” asked Harry, as Cecily < and he went upstairs. “Of course, when they’ve gone.” , “No, directly. I want t Q say a word ;to you.”

“We must escape, then!” she laughed. “Oh, well, they’ll expect that, I suppose/’ Her delight in her love bubbled over in her laugh. They came to the door of her room, and she stopped. “Here?” asked Harry. "Yes, it was my mother’s room. You reign now in my mother’s stead.” His voice had a ring of triumph in it. He kissed her hand. “Dinner as soon as you’re ready,” said he. She laughed again and blushed as she opened the door and stood holding the handle. “Won’t you come in—just for a minute, Harry? I haven’t changed this room at all.” “All is yours to change or to keep unchanged,” said he. “Oh, I’ve no reason for changing anything now. Everything’s to be put back in the Long Gallery.” She paused, and then said again, “Won’t you come in for just a minute, Harry ?” "I must go back to our friends downstairs,” he answered. * The pretext was threadbare. What did the guests matter? They would do well enough. • It had cost her something to ask—a. littl© effort —since the request still seemed so strange, since its pleasure had a fear in it. And now she was refused. “I ask you,” she said, with a sudden haughtiness. He stood looking at her a moment. There was a brisk step along the corridor. “Oh, I beg your ladyship’s pardon. I didn’t know your ladyship had come upstairs.” It was Cecily’s maid. “Ia about twenty minutes,” said Harry with a nod. Slowly Cecily followed the maid inside. After he had washed his hands Harry rejoined his friends. They wer© still sitting in the hall with •an air of expectancy. ‘You’ve told her?” cried Mma. “Oh, yes, Mr Neeld has told me everything “Well, I’ve mentioned the hare fact,” Neeld began. "Yes, yes, that the only thing that matters. You’ve told her, Harry?” The last two days made him “Harry” and her “Mina.” “No; I had a chanoe, and I—funked it,” said Harry, slow in speech and slow in smile. “Sh e asked me into her room. Well, I wouldn’t go.” He laughed as he spoke, laughed rather scornfully. “It’s rather absurd. I shall b© all right after dinner,” he added, laughing still. “Or would you like to do the job for me, Mina?” The Imp shook her head with immense determination. ‘Til throw myself into th© Blent if you like,” she said. “What about you, Mr Neeld?” “My dear friend; oh, my dear friend!” Undisguised panic took possession of Mr Neeld. He tried to cover it by saying sternly: “This—-er—preposterous position is entirely your own fault, you know. You have acted——” “Yes, I know,” nodded Harry, not impatiently, but with a sombre assent.

saying, “Well, somebody’s got to bell th© cat, you know.” “Really, it’s not my business,” protested Neeld and Mina in one breath* both laughing nervously. "You lik e the fun, but you don’t want any of the work,” remarked Harry. That was true—true, to their disgrace. They both felt the reproach. How were they better than th© rest of the neighbourhood, who were content to gossip and gape and take the fortunes of the Tristrams as mere matter for their own entertainment. /‘l’ve made you look ashamed of'your. selves now,” he laughed. “Well, I must do the thing myself, I suppose.. What a pity Miss Swinkerton isn’t here!” Cecily rame down. She passed Harry with a rather distant air and took Neeld’s arm.

“They say dinners ready,” said she. “Mina, will yon come with Harry?” Harry sank into the chair opposite Cecily—and opposite the picture of Addi© Tristram on the wall. “Well, somehow IV© managed to get back here,” said he.

The shadow had passed from Cecily’s face. She looked at him, blushing and laughing. "At a terrible price, poor Harry!” she said. “At a big price,” he answered.

She looked round at the three. Harry was composed,- but there was no mistaking the perturbation of the Imp and Mr Neeld.

“A big price ?” sbe asked wonderingly. “Isn’t that a queer compliment, Harry ?” Then a light seemed to break in on her, and she cried: “You mean the cost of your pride? I should never let that stand between you. and me!” “Will you make a note of that admission, Mina,” said Harry,, with a smile. “Because you didn’t say so always, Cecily. Do you recollect what you once said, ‘lf ever th e tim e comes I shall remember!’ That was what you said.” She looked at him with a glance that was suddenly troubled. There seemed a meaning in his words. She pushed back her chair and rose from the table. “I don’t want dinner. I’m going into the garden,” sh e said. They sat still as she went out.. Harry refolded his napkin and slowly rose to his feet. “I should have liked it better after dinner,” h® - observed.. Mina and. Mr Neeld sat cn. “Are we to dine ?” whispered Neeld. “There is the body, after all.” “Ob, yes, sir,” cam© in Mason’s sooth, ing tones over his shoulder. “We never waited for her late ladyship.” And he handed soup. “Really, Mason is rather a comfort,’* thought Mr Neeld. Th e Imp drank a glass of champagne. (To be Continued.)