Serial Story. (All Rights Strictly Reserved.) Tristram of Blent.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVII, Issue IX, 31 August 1901, Page 386

Serial Story. (All Rights Strictly Reserved.) Tristram of Blent.

By

ANTHONY HOPE.

An Episode in the Story of an Ancient House.

CHAPTER XXV. —(Continued.) "Of course I was put on the track of the affair,’’ Edge pursued,’’ by the disappearance of the money. 1 had little difficulty in guessing that there had been something queer, but what it was did not cross my mind for a long while. Even after I had a clue, I found Migratz a tough customer, and for a long time 1 totally failed to identify Madame Valfier. When, thanks to a series of chances, 1 did so, it was a shock to me. She was the wife of a man of high position and high reputation. She had contrived—she was a remarkable woman —to carry out this expedition of hers without rousing' any suspicion; she had returned to her husband and children. Finding herself in danger, she took the bold course of throwing herself on my mercy, and sent for me to Paris. It was not my desire to rake up the story, to injure my brother’s memory, or to break up the woman's home. I pocketed the loss as far as 1 was concerned. As for you, 1 didn't know you were concerned. I had never gone into the details; 1 accepted the view which your own conduct. and Eady Tristram's, suggested. I promised silence, guarding myself by a proviso that I must speak if the interests of third persons were ever affected. Your interests are affected now, and I have spoken, Mr Tristram—or Lord Tristram, as I undoubtedly ought to say.” Harry turned to Mr Xeeld with a smile and pointed at the leaves of the Journal. 'There was something Cholderton didn't know after all,” he said. “A third date—neither the 18th nor the 24th! Twenty-four hours! Well, I suppose it’s enough!” “It’s enough to make all the difference to you.” said Xeeld. "It makes the action you took in giving up your position unnecessary and wrong. It restores the state of things which ex isted ” “Before you and Mina Zabriska came to Blent—and brought Mr Cholderton?” He sat smiling a moment. “Forgive me; I'm very inhospitable.” he said, and offered them cigarettes and whisky. Neeld refused; the Colonel took both. “You may imagine with what feelings I heard your story.” Edge resumed, “and found that the Comtesse's fraud was really the entire basis of your action. If I had been in England the thing need never have happened." “It has happened,” said Harry, “and —and I don't quite know where we are”. For the world was all altered again, just when the struggle of the evening had seemed to settle it. The memory of the girl in the restaurant flashed across his mind. What would she—what would she say to this? Colonel Edge was evidently rather a talkative man. He began again, rather as though he were delivering a little set speech. “It's perhaps hardly to be expected." he said, “that any degree of intimacy should exist between your family and mine. Lord Tristram, but I venture to hope that the part which it has been my privilege to play today may do something to obliterate the memories of the past. We don't perhaps know all the rights of it. I am loyal to my brother, but I knew the late Lady Tristram, and I can appreciate nil that her friends valued and prized in her.” "Very good. Edge, very good," mur-

mured emotional old Mr Neeld. “Very proper, most proper.”

"And I hope that old quarrels need not be eternal?” "I'm very much is your debt, and I'm sincerely grateful. Colonel Edge. As for the past—there are graves; let it lie in them.”

"Thank you. Lord Tristram, thank you." and the Colonel gave Harry his hand.

"Excellent, excellent!" muttered Mr Neeld as he folded up the leaves of Josiah Cholderton’s diarv.

"You can call on me for proofs whenever you wish to proceed. After what has occurred 1 presume they will be necessary.” “Yes, yes—for his seat," assented Neeld.

“And to satisfy public opinion,” added Edge. There was a pause. Neeld broke it by saying timidly;

“And —er —there is. of course, the —the lady. The lady who now holds the title and estates.”

"Of course!” agreed Edge, with a nod that apologised for forgetfulness.

Of course there was! Harry smiled. He had been wondering how long they would take to think of the lady who now held the title and estates. Well, they had come to her at last—after providing for the requirements of the House of Lords and the demands of public opinion—after satisfying the girl in the restaurant, in fact. Yes, of course, there was the lady, too.

Though he smiled, he was vexed and suffered a vague disappointment. It is to be wished that things would happen in a manner harmonious with their true nature—the tragic tragically, the comic so that laughter roars out. the melodramatic with the proper limelight effects. To do the Tristrams justice, this was generally achieved where they were concerned; Harry could have relied on his mother and on Cecily; he could rely on himself if he were given a suitable environment, one that appealed to him and afforded responsive feelings. The family was not in the habit of wasting its opportunities for emotion. But who could be emotional now — in face of these two elderly gentlemen? Neeld’s example made such a thing ridiculous, Colonel Edge would obviously consider it un-soldier-like. The chance had been frittered away: life was at its old game of neglecting its own possibilities. There was nothing but to acquiesce; fine melodrama had been degraded into a business interview with two elderly and conscientious gentlemen. The scene in the Long Gallery had at least been different from this! Harry bowed his head: he must be thankful for small blessings: it was something that they had remembered the lady at last.

At a glance from Edge Neeld rose to go.

“Pray wait—wait a minute or two.” begged Harry. “I want to think for a minute.”

Neeld sat down again. It is very likely they were as surprised at him as he was childishly vexed with them. For he exhibited perfect calm. Yet perhaps Colonel Edge, who had given so colourless an account of the Comtesse's wild appeal to him, was well suited.

“I'm going down to Tver’s to-mor-row," said old Neeld. tucking the extract from the “Journal” into his pocket.

“To Tver’s?” After a moment’s silence Harry fairly laughed. Edge was

surprised, not understanding what a difference the Comtesse's manoeuvre had made there too. He could not be expected to know all the difference it had made to Harry's life, even to the man himself. Two irresponsible ladies—say Addie and — well, Madame Valfier—may indeed make differences. “Yes, to Fairholme." continued old Neeld. “We—we may see you there now?”

Edge looked up with an interested glance. It had occurred to him that he was turning somebody out as well as putting somebody in.

"You'll have, of course, to communicate what I have said to —to ?’’ “Oh. we'll say Lady Tristram still.” Harry interrupted. Edge gave a little bow. “I shall be ready to meet her or her advisers at any time," he remarked. “She will, I hope, recognise that no other course was open to me. She must not think that there is any room for doubt.”

Harry's brain was at work now; he saw himself going to Blent, going to tell Ceeilv.

“Possibly,” Mr. Neeld suggested, “it would be better to entrust a third person with the task of giving her this news? One of her own sex perhaps?” He seemed to contemplate a possible fainting-fit, and, remembering his novels, the necessity of cutting stay-laces, a task better left to women.

"You're thinking of Mina? Of Mina Zabriska?" asked Harry, laughing. There again, what a loss! Why had not Mina heard it at first hand? She would have known how to treat the thing.

“She's always taken a great interest in the matter, and—and I understand is very friendly with—with Miss Gainsborough,” said Neeld. “We shall have to make up our minds what to call ourselves soon,” sighed Harry.

“There can be no doubt at all,” Edge put in; “and if I may venture to suggest. I should say that the sooner the necessity is faced the better.”

“Certainly, certainly.” Harry assented absently. Even the girl in the restaurant must know about it soon; there must be another pow-wowing in all the papers soon. But what would Cecily say? “If ever the time comes .” He had laughed at that; it had sounded so unlikely, so unreal, so theatrical. “If ever the time comes. I shall remember.” That was a strange thing to look back to now. But it was all strange — the affair of the beastly new viscounty, Blinkhampton and its buildings, the Arbitration and the confidence of Mr Disney. Madame Valfier -— Comtesse d’Albreville—with a little help from Addie Tristram, had brought all these things about. The result of Harry's review of them was English enough to satisfy Wilmot Edge himself.

“The whole thing makes me look rather an ass, I think,” said he.

“No doubt you acted Impulsively,” Edge allowed. It was fully equivalent to an assent. "Good heavens, I’d been brought up to it! It had always been the fact of my life.” He made no pretences about the matter pow. “It never occurred to me to think of any mistake. That certificate”- —it lay on the table still—“was the work of Damocles.” He laughed as he spoke the hackneyed old phrase. “And Damocles knew the sword was there, or there’d have been no point in it.” The two had rather lost track of his mood. They looked at one another again. "You’ve a lot to think of. We’ll leave you,” said the Colonel. “But—but what am I to do?” Old Neeld’s voice was almost a bleat in his despair. “Am Ito tell people at Blentmouth?” “The communication should come from an authoritative quarter,” Edge advised. "It's bound to be a blow to her,” said Neeld. “Suddenly lifted up, suddenly thrown down! Poor girl!” "Justice is the first thing,” declared Wilmot Edge. Now he might have been on a court-martial. They knew nothing whatever of the truth or the true position. “We may rely on—on Lord Tristram —to treat the matter with every delicacy, Edge.” “I'm sure of it, Neeld, I’m sure of it.” "He has been through what is practically the same experience himself.” “A very remarkable case, very remarkable. The state of the law which makes such a thing possible ” “Ah. there I don’t agree, Edge. There may be hardships on individuals, but in the interests of morality ” “You must occasionally put up with damned absurdity,” Harry interrupted rather roughly. “I beg your pardon, Mr Neeld. I—l'm a bit worried over this.” They sat silent then, watching him for a few moments. He stood leaning- his arm on the mantel-piece, his brows knit, but a smile lingering on his lips. He was seeing the scene again, the scene in which he was to tell Cecily. He knew what the end of it would be. They were strangers now. The scene would leave them strangers still. Still Mina Zabriska would be left to cry, “You Tristrams!” Given that they were Tristrams, no other result was possible. They had been through what Mr Neeld called practically the same experience already: in that very room it had happened. Suddenly the two men saw a light born in Harry’s eyes; his brow grew smooth, the smile on his lips wider. He gave a moment’s more consideration to the new thing. Then he raised his head and spoke to Wilmot Edge. "There are a good many omplications in this matter, Colonel Edge. I've had my life upset once before, and I assure you it’s rather troublesome work. It wants a little time and a little thinking. You get rather confused—always changing your tram, you know. I have work on hand — plans and so forth. And, as you say, of course there’s the lady too.” He laughed as he ended by borrowing Neeld’s phrase. “I can understand all that, Lord Tristram.”

"Do you mind saying Mr Tristram? Saying Mr Tristram to me and to everybody for the present? It won’t be for long—a week perhaps.” "You mean to keep the change in the position a secret?” Edge seemed rather startled.

“You’ve kept the secret for many years. Colonel. Shall we say a week more? And you, too, Mr Neeld? Nothing at all to the people at Blentmouth. Shall we keep Miss S. in the dark for a week more?” The thought of Miss Swinkerton carried obvious amusement with it.

“You mean to choose your oppor-

tunity with—with your eousin?” Neelil asked.

“Yes, exactly—to ehoose my opportunity. You see the difficult character of the situation? I ask your absolute silence for a week.” “Really I—” Ohl Neeld hesitated a little. “These concealments lead to such complications,” he complained. He was thinking, no doubt, of the Tver engagement and the predicament in which it had landed him. “I don't ask it on my own account. There’s.my cousin.” “Yes, yes, Neeld, there’s the lady too.” “Well. Edge, if you’re satisfied. I can’t stand out. For a week then — silence.” “Absolute,” said Harry. “Without a look or a word.” “You have my promise,” said Wilmot Edge. “And mine. But—but I shall feel very awkward,” sighed poor Mr Neeld. He might have added that he did feel a sudden and poignant pang of disappointment. Lived there the man who would not have liked to carry that bit of news in his portmanteau when he went out of town? At least that man was not Mr Jenkinson Neeld. “I'll choose my time, and I won’t keep you long." said Harry. With that they left him; but they had a word together before Edge caught his "bus in Piccadilly. “Cool young chap. ” said he. “Took it quietly enough.” “Yes. considering the enormous difference it makes,” agreed Neeld. His use of that pait : cular phrase was perhaps an unconscious reminiscence of the words in the Journal, the words that Addie used when she burst into Madame de Kries" room at Heidelberg. Edge chuckled a little. “Not much put out about the girl either, eh?” “Now you say so —” Neeld shook his head. “I hope he’ll do it tactfully,” he sighed. _ Edge did not seem to consider that likely. He in his turn shook his head. “I said no more than I thought about Addie Tristram,” he remarked. “But the fact is they’re a rum lot. and there’s no getting over it, Neeld.” “They—er— have their peculiarities, no doubt.” admitted Mr Neeld. CHATTER XXVI. A BUSINESS CALL. "My dear, isn’t there something odd about Mr. Neeld?” Mrs. Tver put the question, her anxious charity struggling with a natural inquisitiveness. "About Neeld ? I don’t know. Is there?” He did not so much as look up from his paper. “He’s coming’ with us to Blent to-night. I suppose?” “Yes. And he seems quite excited about that. And he was positively rude to Miss Swinkerton at lunch when she told him that Lady Tristram meant to give a ball next winter. I expect his nerves are out of order.”

Staall wonder if they were, surely! Let us suppose Guy Fawkes’ scheme not prematurely discovered, and one member of a full House privy to it and awaiting the result. That member’s position would be very like Mr. Neeld’s. Would he listen to the debate with attention? Could he answer questions with sedulous courtesy?

From the moment of his arrival Mr. Neeld had been plunged into the Tristram affair, and surrounded by people who were connected with it. But it must be admitted that he had it on his brain and saw it everywhere. For to-day it was not the leading topic of the neighbourhood, and Miss S.’s observation had been only by the way. The engagement was the topic, and only Neeld (or perhaps Mina Zabriska too, at Blent), insisted on digging up a hypothetical past and repeating, in retrospective rumination, that Harry Tristram might have been the lucky man. As for such an idea—well. Miss S. happened to know that there had never been anything in it; Janie Tver herself had told her so. she said. The question between Janie and Miss S., which this assertion raises, may be passed by without discussion.

He hatl met Gainsborough essaying a furtive entry into Blentmouth/and heading towards the curiosity-shop —with a good excuse this time. It was Cecily's birthday, and the occasion, which was to be celebrated by

a dinner party, must be marked by a present also. Neeld went with the little gentleman, and they bought a bit of old Chelsea (which looked very young for its age). Coming out, Gainsborough sighted Mrs. Trumbler coming up High-street, ami Miss C. coming down it. He doubled up a side street to the churchyard. Neeld pursuing him at a more leisurely pace.

“It's positively worthy of a place at Blent—in the Long Gallery," panted Gainsborough, hugging his brown-paper-covered prize. “You'll be interested to see the changes we're making. Mr. Neeld. Cecily has begun to take an enormous interest in the house, and I—l’m settling down.” “You don’t regret London ever?” “I shall run up now and then. My duty is to my daughter. Of course her life is changed.” He sighed as he added. "We’re getting quite used to that.” “She has come to love the place, I daresay?” “Yes, yes. She’s in very good spirits and quite happy in her position now. I think.” He glanced over his shoulder. Miss S. was in sight. “Goodbye. So glad we shall see you tonight.” He made his escape at a run. Neeld, having been interrogated at lunch already, was allowed to pass by with a lift of his hat. Janie was very happy. She at least thought no more of that bygone episode. She asked no questions about Harry Tristram. He had dropped out of het life. He seemed to have dropped out of the life of the countryside, too. That was strange anyhow, when it was remembered how large a local figure the young man had cut when Neeld came first to Failholme: it was stranger still in view of what must soon be. The announcement of the engagement seemed to assume to write "Finis" to Harry as a factor in Blentmouth society. In that point of view the moment chosen for it was full of an unconscious irony. Janie would not have gone back to him now. and Neeld did not suspect her of any feeling which could have made that possible. It was merely odd that she should be putting- an appropriate finish to a thing which in the meantime had been suddenly, absolutely, and radically undone. Neeld was loyal to his word: but none may know the terrible temptation he suffered: a nod. a wink, a hint, an ambiguity—anything- would have given him some relief. Harry was mentioned only once —in connection with his letter to Tver about the Arbitration. Tver was not inclined to let him go. “He has great business ability. It's a pity to waste his time. He can make money. Neeld.” Disney's a good friend to have.” Neeld suggested. “If he stays in. yes. But this thing won't be popular.” Neeld could maintain no interest in the conversation. It had to proceed all along- on a baseless presumpton, to deal with a state of things which did not exist. What might be wise for Harry—Harry Nothing-at-all—might be unwise for Tristram of Blent, and conversely. “I must leave it to him." Tver concluded. "But I shall tell him I hope he won't go. He's got his way in the world to make first. He caii try politics later on. if he likes.” “No doubt you're right.” murmured old Neeld. both uneasy and uninterested. He was feeling something of what he had experienced once before: he knew the truth, and he had to keep his friend in the dark. In those earlier days he had one confidant, one accomplice, in Mina Zabriska. The heavy secret was all his own to carry now. As a consequence of his preoccupation. Janie Tver found him rather unsympathetic. and with her usual candour she told him so.

“You don't really appreciate Bob.” said she. “Nobody quite knows him except me. I didn't use to, but now I know what a strong- character he has.”

Unwonted cynical thoughts rose in old Mr Neeld. Had he come down to Fairholme to listen to the platitudes of virtuous love? Indeed, he had come for no such thing. All young men have strong characters while they are engaged.

“And it's such a comfort to have a man one can lean upon,” Janie pur-

sued, looking, however, admirably capable of standing without extraneous support.

There it was again! She'd be calling him her "master" next —as the heroine does in the Third Act. to unfailing applause. What was all this to ears that listened for a whisper of Harry Tristram?

"The most delightful thing is.” Janie pursued, “that our marriage is to make no change at all in his way of life. We’re going to live at Mingham just as he has lived all his life —a real country life on a farm!” There was no hint that other ideals of existence had ever possessed an alluring charm: the high life with Harry, the broad and cosmopolitan life with the Major—where were they? “I've insisted on it. the one thing I’ve had my own way in.” Bob was being transmogrified into a Man of Iron if not of Blood. Vainly Mr Neeld consulted his memories. “And Mingham’s so bound up with it all. I used to go there with Mina Zabriska.” She smiled in retrospect. It would have been pardonable if Neeld and smiled too. “I haven’t seen her for ever so long.” Janie added, “but she'll be at Blent to-night.” Ah. if he might give just the barest hint to Mina now! “Bob isn’t particularly fond of her. you see, so we don’t meet much now. He thinks she's rather spiteful.” “Not at all,” said Neeld, almost

sharply. “She’s a very intelligent woman.” “Oh. yes. intelligent.” She said no more. If people did not agree with Bob—well, there it was. Bob bore his idealisation very well. It was easy to foresee a happy and a lemarkably equable married life. But the whole thing had no flavour for Mr Neeld’s palate, spoilt by the spires of Tristram vagaries. A decent show of friendliness was all he could muster. It was all that Tver himself seemed to expect. He was resigned, but by no means exultant. “The girl’s very happy, and that’s the thing. For myself—well. I’ve got most of the things T started to get. and if this isn’t quite what I looked forward to —well, you remember how things fell out?’’ Neeld nodded. He remembered that very well. “And. as I say. it’s all very’ satisfactory.” He shrugged his shoulders and relighted his cigar. He was decidedly a reasonable man. thought Neeld. I he evening came—Neeld had been impatient for it—and they drove over to Blent, where Bob was to meet them. “It’s a fine place for a girl to have.” said I ver. stirred to a sudden sense of the beauty of the old house as it came into view. I hey were all silent for a moment. Such a place to have, such a place to lose.’ Neeld heard Mrs Tver sighing

in her good-natured motherly fashion But still Harry was not mentioned.

•‘And if they had a business man — with his head on his shoulders —to manage the estate it’d be worth half as much again.” This time it was I ver who sighed. The idea of anything not having all the money made out of it that could be made offended his instincts. “She'll have a husband, dear, ’ his wife reminded him.

“I wonder of Bob'll get there before we do,” said Janie, with the air of starting a subject of real interest in lieu of continuing idle talk.

The evening was hot and the hall door of Blent stood open. Cecily was sitting in the hall and came out to greet them. She seemed to Neeld to complete the picture as she stood there in her young fairness, graciously welcoming her guests. She was pale, but wore a gay air and did the honours with natural dignity. No sign of strangeness to the place and no embarrassment were visible. “Oh. my dear, how you remind me of Lady Tristram!” good Mrs Tver broke out. Neeld pressed the girl’s hand with a grip that she noticed. She looked at him in a sort of question and for a moment flushed a little. “It’s very kind of you to come,” she said to him softly. “How are you, Mr Neeld?” The Imp had suddenly darted out from somewhere and was offering her hand. “I’m staying here, you know.” And in a whisper she added. “That young man of Janie’s has been here a quarter of an hour, and Cecily wasn't dressed, and I’ve had to talk to him. Oh. dear!” She had her hand on his arm and drew him apart. “Any news of Harry Tristram?” she whispered. “Er—no—none.” Iler quick eyes looked at him in suspicion. He had hesitated a little. “You’ve seen him?” she asked. "Just casually. Madame Zabriska.” She turned away with a peevish little pout. “Then you’re not very interesting.” she seemed to say. But Neeld forgave her: she had asked him about Harry. He could forgive more easily because he had deluded her.

Addie Tristram's picture was at one end of the dining-room now, and Cecily’s place was under it. “My first dinner-party! Although it's a small one.” she said to Tver as she sat down. “Your first at Blent?”

“The first anywhere—actually!” she laughed, and then grew thoughtful for a moment, glancing out into the dark and listening to the flap of a bat’s wings against the window. “You’ll have plenty now,” said he, as he watched her admiringly. He forgot, man that he was, that girls do not find permanent happiness in din-ner-parties.

It was evident that Neeld ought never to have come to Blent that evening. For the talk was of futures, and, out of deference to the young hostess, even more of hers than of the engaged couple’s. Theirs indeed was not provocative of discussion: if satisfactory, it was also obvious. Cecily’s opened more topics; she herself was willingand seemed even eager to discuss it. She fell in with Mrs Tver’s suggestion that slie ought to be a centre of good works in the district, and in pursuance of this idea should accept the position of Patron to Miss Swinkerton’s complicated scheme of benevolence. She agreed with Iver that the affairs of the estate probably wanted overhauling. and that a capable man should be engaged for the task, even at some expense. She professed herself ready to co-operate with Bob in protecting the fishing of Blent. She was, in a word, very much the proprietor. It was difficult for Neeld to sit and hear all this. And opposite to him sat Mina Zabriska, rather silent and demure,'but losing no chance of reminding him by a stealthy glance that this ordinary talk covered a remarkable situation —as indeed it did, but not of the precise nature that Mina supposed. Neeld felt as though he were behind the scenes of fate’s theatre, and he did not find the place comfortable. He saw the next tableau in preparation and had to ask himself what its effect would be on an unsuspecting audience. He came to the conclusion that foreknowledge was an attribute not likely to make human beings happy; it could not easily make terms with sympathy. When dessert was on the table, Iver. true to his habits and traditions, felt that it was the occasion for a few friendly informal words; the birthday and the majority of young Lady Tristram demanded so much recognition. Admirably concise and simple in ordinary conversation, he became, like so many of his countrymen, rather heavy and pompous when he got on his legs. Yet he made what everybody except Mina Zabriska considered a very appropriate little speech. Gainsborough grew quite enthusiastic over it; and Neeld thought it was wonderfully good (if it had not happened, of course, to be by force of circumstances an absurdity from beginning to end). Cecily was content to say, “Thank you.” but her father could not refuse himself the privilege of reply; the reply was on her behalf, but it was mainly about himself —also a not uncommon characteristic of after-dinner oratory. However, he agreed with Iver that everything was for the best, and that they were entitled to congratulate their hostess and themselves on things at large. Then Neeld had a turn over the engagement (a subject dull but safe!), and the proceedings were stopped only by Bob Broadley’s headlong flight when the question of his response arose. “Thank goodness, that’s over!” said Mina snappishly, as she stepped out into the garden, followed by Mr Neeld. The rest went off to see the treasures of the Long Gallery. Mina turned to him with a quick question: “You saw Mr Tristram. How is he?”

“Harry Tristram is quite well and in very good spirits. I never saw a man better in my life.” Mina was silent for a moment. Then she broke out: “I call it disgusting. He’s in good spirits, - and she’s in good spirits, and—and there’s an end of it, I suppose! The next thing will be ”

“It's not the end if there’s a next thing.” Neeld suggested timidly.

“Oh. don’t be tiresome. The next thing'll be some stupid girl for him and some idiot of a man for her. How I wish I’d never come to Merrion!”

“Don’t despair; things may turn out better than you think.”

"They can’t,” she declared fretfully. “I shall go away.”

"What a pity! Miss Gainsborough

—Lady Tristram. I mean—will miss you so much.”

“Let her!” said the Imp ungraciously. “I’ve put myself out enough about the Tristrams.” Neeld forbore to remind her of the entirely voluntary nature of her sacrifices; after all he was not the man to throw stones on that account.

“Wait a few days anyhow,” he urged her. In a few days something must happen.

“A few days? Oh, yes!” As a matter of fact she meant to stay all the winter. “She’s started.” she went on. with an irritated jerk of her head towards the Long Gallery, “putting all the things in different places and rearranging everything.” “I should imagine that Mr Gainsborough’s enjoying himself then?”

“She doesn’t let him touch a thing.” replied Mina with a fleeting smile. “He just stands about with a duster. That contents him well enough, though. Oh, yes, I shall go. The Broadleys won’t care about me, and Cecily won’t want me long.” Neeld could give real comfort only at the price of indiscretion. Moreover he was not at all sure that a disclosure of the truth would bring any comfort, for Mina wanted to be on both sides and to harmonise devotion to Ceeily with zeal for Harry. Neeld did not quite see how this was to be done, since it was understood that as Harry would take nothing from Cecily, so Cecily would refuse anything from Harry. “We must wait and see how it all turns out,” said he. “I hate people who say that,” grumbled Mina disconsolately. “And I do think that the Ivers have grown extraordinary stupid—caught it from Bob Broadley, I suppose.” When injustice springs not from judgment but from temper, it is not worth arguing against. Neeld held his tongue and they sat silent on the seat by the river, looking across to Merrion and hearing the voices of their friends through the open windows of the Long Gallery.

Presently there came to them through the stillness of the night the sound of wheels, not on the Blentmouth side, but up the valley, on the Mingham and Fillingford road. The sound ceased without the appearance of any vehicle, but it had reminded Neeld of the progress of time. “It must be getting late,” he said, rising. “I’ll go and see if they think of starting home. Did you hear wheels on the road—towards the Pool?” “Bob Broadley’s cart coining for him. I suppose.” “No: I don’t think so. He’s going back to Fairholme with us. I heard him sav so.”

Mina was languidly indifferent, and Mr Neeld trotted off into the house. Mina sat on, frowning at the idea that in a few minutes she would have to go in and say good-bye; for the voices came no more from the Long Gallerv. and she heard the guest-

laughing and chattering in the ball, as they prepared for departure. Suddenly she discerned the figure of a man coming into sight across the river. He walked slowly, as it seemed stealthily, till he came to the end of the footbridge. Then he halted and looked up at the house. It was gaily lighted. After waiting a moment the man turned back and disappeared up the road in the direction of Mingham. Mina rose and strolled to the bridge. She crossed it and looked up the road. S'he could make out dimly the stranger’s retreating form. She heard Cecily calling to her, and ran back to the house. A wonderful idea had come into her head, born of a vaguely familiar aspect that the bearing of the man had for her. But she laughed at it, telling herself that it was all nonsense; and as she joined in the talk and farewells it grew faint and was almost forgotten. Yet she whispered to old Neeld with a laugh: “I saw a man on the road just now who looked rather like Harry. I couldn’t see him properly, you know.” Neeld started and looked at her with obvious excitement. She repaid his stare with one of equal intensity. “Why, you don’t think ?” she began in amazement. “Come, Neeld, we’re waiting for you,” cried Iver from the waggonette, while Bob in irrepressible spirits burst into song as he gathered up the reins. He had deposed the coachman and had Janie with him on the box. They drove off. waving their hands and shouting good-night. Mina ran a little way after them and saw Neeld turning his head this way and that, as though he thought there might be something to see. When she returned she found Gainsborough saying good-night to his daughter; at the same moment the lights in the Long Gallery were put out. Cecily slipped her arm through hers, and they walked out again into the garden. After three or four minutes the waggonette, having made the circuit necessary to reach the carriagebridge. drove by on the road across the river, with more waving of hands and shouts of good-night. An absolute stillness came as the noise of its wheels died away. “I’ve got through that all right,” said Cecily with a laugh, drawing her friend with her towards the bridge. “I suppose I shall be quite accustomed to it soon.”

They went on to the bridge and halted in the middle of it. by a common impulse as it seemed. “The sound of a river always says to me that it all doesn’t matter much,” Cecily went on, leaning on the parapet. “I believe that’s been expressed more poetically!” “It’s great nonsense, however it’s expressed,” observed Mina scornfully. “I sometimes feel as if it was true.”

Probably Cecily thought that nobody—no girl—no girl in love —had ever had the feeling before. A delusive appearance of novelty is one of the most dangerous weapons of Cupid. But Mina was an experienced woman—had been married too! “Don’t talk stuff, my dear,” she cried crossly. “And why are we standing on this horrid little bridge ?” She turned round; Cecily still gazed in melancholy abstraction into the stream. Cecily, then, faced down the valley, Mina loked up it; and at the moment the moon showed a quarter of her face and illuminated a streak of the Fillingford Road.

The man was there. He was there again. The moonlight fell on his face. He smiled at Mina, pointed a hand towards Blentmouth, and smiled again. He seemed to mock the ignorance of the vanished waggonette. Mina made no sign. He laid his finger on his lips, and nodded slightly towards Cecily. The clouds covered the moon again, and there was no more on the Fillingford Road than a black blotch on the deep grey of the night; even this vanished a moment after, And still Cecily gazed down into the Blent. Presently she turned round. “I suppose we must go in," she said grudgingly. “It’s getting rather chilly.” They were both in low-cut frocks, and had come out without any wraps. With the intuition of a born schemer, Mina seized on the chance. “Oh, it's so lovely!” she cried, with an apparently overwhelming enthusiasm for nature. “Too perfectly lovely! I’ll run in. and get some, cloaks. Wait here till I come back. Cecily.”

“Well, don’t be long.” said Cecily, crossing her bare arms with a little shiver.

Off the Imp ran. and vanished into the house. But she made no search for wraps. After a moment's hesitation in the hall the deceitful creature ran into the library. All was dark there: a window was open and showed the bridge, with Cecily’s figure on it making a white blur in the darkness. Mina crouched on the window-sill • and waited. The absolute unpardonableness of her conduct occurred to her; with a smile she dismissed the consideration. He—and she—whodesires the end must needs put up with the means; it is all the easier when the

means happen to be uncommonly thrilling.

Harry was humbled! That was the conclusion which shot through her mind. What else could his coming mean? If it meant less than that, it was mere cruelty. If it meant that A keen pang of disappointment shot through her. It was the only way to what she desired, but it was not the way which she would have preferred him to tread. Yet because it was the only way, she wished it—with the reservation that it would have been much better if it could have happened in some other fashion. But anyhow the position, not to say her position, had every element of excitement. “Poor old Mr Neeld!” she murmured once. It was hard on him to miss this. At the moment Neeld was smiling over the ignorance in which he had been bound to keep her. It is never safe to suppose, however pleasant it may be to believe, that nobody is pitying us; either of his knowledge or of his ignorance some one is always at if.

She started violently and turned round. The butler was there, candle in hand.

“Is her ladyship still out, ma'am?” he asked, advancing. “I was going to lock up.” He was hardly surprised to find her—they knew she was odd—and would not have shown it, if he had been.

“Oh go to bed.” she cried in a low voice. “We’ll lock up. We don’t want anything, anything at all.” “Very good. Good-night, ma'am.” What an escape! Suppose Cecily had seen her at the window!

But Cecily was not looking at the window. She moved to the far end of the bridge and stood gazing up towards Merrion. where one light twinkled in an upper room. Mina saw her stretch out her arms for a moment towards the sky. What had happened? It was impossible that he had gone away! Mina craned her head out of the window, looking and listening. Happen what might, be the end of it what it might, this situation was deliciously strong of the Tristrams. They were redeeming their characters; they had not settled down into the ordinary or been gulfed in the slough of the common-place. Unexpected appearances and midnight interviews of sentimental moment were still to be hoped for from them. There was not vet an end of all.

He came; Mina saw his figure on the road, al first dimly, then with a sudden distinctness as a gleam of moonlight shone out. He stood a little way up the road to Cecily's right. She did not see him yet. for she looked up to Merrion. He took a step forward, his tread sounding loud on the road. There was a sudden turn of Cecily’s head. A moment’s silence followed. He came up to her holding out his hand. She drew back, shrinking from it. Laying her hands on the gate of the bridge she seemed to set it as a fence between them. Her voice reached Mina’s ears, low. yet as distinct as though she had been by her side, and full of a terrified alarm and a bitter reproach. “You here! Oh. you promised, you promised!” With a bound Mina’s conscience awoke. She had heard what no ears save his had any right to hear. What if she were found? The conscience was not above asking that, but it was not below feeling an intolerable shame even without the discovery that it suggested as her punishment. Blushing red there in the dark she slipped from the window seat and groped her way to a chair. Here she flung herself down with a sob of excitement and emotion. He had promised. And the promise was broken in his coming. Now she heard their steps on the path outside. They were walking towards the house. Telling herself that it was impossible for her to move now. for fear she should encounter them, she sank lower in her armchair. “Well, where shall we go?” she heard Cecily ask in cold, stiff tones. "To the Long Gallery," said Harry. The next moment old Mason, the butler, was in the room again, this time in great excitement. “There’s someone in the garden with her ladyship, ma'am.” he cried. “I think—lthink it’s my#lord.” “Who?" asked Mina, sitting up. feigning to be calm and sleepy. “Mr Harry, I mean, ma’am.” “Oh. well. then, go and see.” The old man turned and went out into the hall. “How are you. Mason?" she heard Harry sav. “Her ladyship and I have some business to talk about. May I have a sandwich afterwards?” There he was. spoiling the drama, in Mina’s humble opinion! Who

should think of sandwiches now? “Do what Mr Tristram says, Mason,” said Cecily. She heard them begin to mount the stairs. Jumping up. she ran softly to the door anil out into the hall. Mason stood there with his eandle, staring up after Cecily ami Harry. He turned to Mina with a quizzical smile wrinkling his good natured face. “You'd think it a funny time for business, wouldn't you, ma'am?” he asked. He paused a moment, stroking his chin. "Unless you'd happened to be in service twenty years with her late ladyship. Well. I’m glad to see hint again, anyhow.” “What shall we do?” whispered Mina. “Are you going to bed. Masfl n ?” “Not me, ma'am. Why. I don't know whht mayn't happen before the morning." He shook his head in humorous commentary on those he had served. “But there's no call for you to sit up. ma’am." “I'll thank you to mind your own business. Mason." said the Imp. indignantly. “It would be most—most improper if I didn't sit up. Why it's nearly midnight!" “They won't think of that up there,” said he. The sound of a door slammed came from upstairs. Mina's eyes met Mason’s for a moment by an involuntary impulse then hastily turned away, ft is an excellent thing to be out of the reach of temptation. The door was shut! “Give me a eandle here in the library." said Mina, with all her dignity. And there in the library she sat down to wonder and to wait. Mason went off afterthesandwiches, smiling still. There was really nothing odd in it when once yon were accustomed to the family ways. (To be continued.)