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

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVII, Issue XII, 21 September 1901, Page 530

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

By

ANTHONY HOPE.

An Episode in the Story of an Ancient Hocsk

CHAPTER XXlX.—(Continued.)

“I’m not going to speak of your pride, but of your incredible meanness,” said he. “What?” eried Cecily, rudely startled and sitting bolt upright. "There’s no harm in plain speaking, since we're going to part. Of your extraordinary meanness, Cecily —and really it’s not generally a fault of the Tristrams.”

-Perhaps you’ll explain yourself,” she said, relapsing into cold disdain, and leaning back again. "1 will. I mean to. Just look at the history of the whole affair.” He rose and stood opposite her, constraining her to look at him, although her attitude professed a lofty indifference. "Here was I—in possession! I was safe. I knew I was safe. I was as convinced of my safety as I am even now—when it’s beyond question. Was I frightened? Ask Mina, ask Duplay. Then you came. You know what I did. For your sake, because you were what you are. because I had begun to love you—yes, that’s the truth of it —I gave it'all to you. Not this place only, but all I had. Even my nameeven my right to bear any name. Nobody and nameless, I went out of this house for you.” He paused a little, took a pace on the grass, and returned to her.

"What ought you to have felt, what ought you to have prayed then?” he asked. “Surely that it should come back to me, that it should be mine again?” “1 did.” she protested, stirred to self-defence. "1 was miserable. You know I was. I couldn’t stay here for the thought of you. I came to London. I came to you, Harry. I offered it to you.” "It’s you who are deceiving yourself now. Yes, you came and offered it to me. Did you want, did you pray, that it might be mine again by no gift of yours, but by right? Did you pray that the thing should happen which has happened now? That you should be turned out and I should be put in? Back in my own place, my proper place? That I should be Tristram of Blent again? Did you pray for that?” He paused, but she said nothing. Her face was troubled now and her eyes could not leave his. •’You were ready to play Lady Bountiful to me. to give of your charity. to make yourself feel very noble. That was it. And now—” His voice became more vehement—“and now look into your heart. Look close! Look. look! What’s in your heart now. You say I’ve cheated you. It’s true. Is that why you’re angry? Is that why you won’t live with me? No. by heaven! Not that, or anything of the kind! Will you have the truth?” Again she made no answer. She waited for his words. “Are you rejoiced that mine’s my own again, that I’m back in my place, that I’m Tristram of Blent, that it belongs to me? That I take it by my own incontestable right and not of your hand, by your bounty and your charity? Are you so rejoiced at that that you can forgive me anything, forgive the man you love anything? Yes, you do love me. You're welcome to that if you think it makes it any better. It seems to me to make it worse. No. you can't forgive me anything: you can't forgive the man you love! Why not ? I’ll tell you why. Shall I? Shall I go on?”

She bowed her head and clasped her hands together.

"You hate my having come to my own again. You hate its being mine by right and not by your bounty. Y’ou hate being Lady Tristram only because I’ve chosen to make you so. And because you hate that you won’t forgive me, and you say you won’t live with me. Yes, you're angry because I've come to my own again. You hate it. Look in your heart, I say, and tell me that what I say isn't true, if you can.”

She made no answer still. He came a step closer and smote his fist on the palm of his other hand, as he

ended: “You called me a liar. I was a liar. But. by God, you’re a curmudgeon, Cecily!”

For a monent longer she looked at him as he stood there in his scornful anger. Then with a low moan she hid her face in her hands. The next minute he turned on his heel, left her where she sat and strode off into the house. Mina and Neeld—now at their sweets —heard his step and exchanged excited glances. He walked up to the head of the table, to Cecily’s chair, plumped down into it and called out to Mason, “Something to eat and some champagne.” “Yes, sir,” said Mason in a flurry. "Oh, by-the-bye, you can say ‘my lord' again. The lawyers blundered and there’s been a mistake.” The astonished Mason began to express felicitations. Harry was petulantly short with him. "Oh, shut up that my dear man, and give me some champagne.” He drank a glass off and then observed, “I hope you two have had a decent dinner?” He had the manner of a host now. “I—l hadn’t much appetite,” stammered Neeld. “Well, I’m hungry anyhow,” and he fell to on his beef, having waved soup and fish aside impatiently. "Tell them all downstairs what I’ve told you. Mason, but, for heaven’s sake don’t let there be any fuss. Oh, and I suppose you had better keep something hot for Lady Tristram.” Mason’s exit was hastened by the consciousness of his commission. The (moment he was gone Mina broke out: "Where’s Cecily?” “I left her on the lawn,” said Harry frowning hard, but eating heartily. "You’ve told her?” “Y es. I’ve told her.” “And what did she say?” The Imp’s utterance was jerky ‘ from her perturbation. "Look here. Mina, mightn’t you go and ask her? It’s a long story, and I’m deuced hungry, you know.” Mina needed no further permission. She rose and flew. Neeld. though uncertain what was expected of him, sat on. nervously eating gooseberries a fruit which rarely agreed with 1 him. Harry drank a second glass of champagne, and his brow relaxed, although he was still thoughtful. “I—l hope all has gone well?” Neeld ventured to inquire. "I scarcely know. The interview took rather an unexpected turn.” He spoke as though the development had surprised him, and he could hardly trace how it had come about. “The whole thing will be settled very soon, he added. “Have a glass of port. Mr Neeld? It’ll do you more good than those gooseberries.” Neeld laid a ready hand on the decanter. as he asked: “I s —er—Lady Tristram not coming in to dinner?” “Really I don't know. She didn’t mention it." His thoughts seemed

elsewhere. “Was I wrong to tell Mason to give me the title?” he asked. "Ought I to wait till I’ve formally established my claim?” “Since it’s quite clear, and there’s no opposition from—from the dispossessed claimant—— ’’ Neeld smiled feebly and sipped his port. "That’s what I thought; and it’s as well to put things on a permanent basis as soon as possible. When once that’s done, we shall think less about all this troublesome affair.” He sat silent for a few minutes, while Neeld finished his wine. “I’m going to have some cheese. Don’t you wait, Mr Neeld.” Old Neeld was glad to escape; he could not understand his host’s mood and was uneasy' in talk with him. Moreover it seemed that the great question was being decided in the garden and not in the dining-room. To the garden then he betook himself. Harry smoked a cigarette when his meal was done, twisting nis chair round so that he could see Addie Tristram’s picture. He reviewed his talk with Cecily, trying to trace how tha.t unexpected turn in it had come about, and at what point the weapon had sprung into his hand. He had used it with effect—whether with the effect he desired he did not know. But his use of it had not been altogether a ruse or an artifice. His sin■evritjj, his vehemence, hi,s very cruelty proved that. He had spoken out a genuine resentment and a righteous reproach. Thenlce came the power to meet Cecily’s taunts in equal battle and to silence her charges of deceit with his retort of meanness.

“And we were married to-day! And we’re damnably in love with one another!” he reflected. “I suppose we should seem queer to some people.” This was a great advance towards an outside view of the family. Certainly such an idea had never occurred to Addie; she had always done the only possible thing! “Now what will she do?” At least it did not seem as though she meant to have any dinner. The fact would have meant much had a man been concerned. With a woman it possessed no more than a moderate significance. With a Tristram woman perhaps it had none at all. A cigar succeeded the cigarette in Harry’s mouth, as he sat there looking at his mother’s picture and thinking of his wife. He did not in the least regret that she was his wife or that he had lied. Any scruples that he ever had on that score he had removed for himself by realising that she was a curmudgeon. Neither did he regret what he had called the troublesome affair. It had brought new things into his life; new thoughts and new powers had become his. And it had given him Cecily—unless one of them had still to go to town! He glanced at the clock; it was halfpast nine. A sudden excitement came on him; but he conquered it or at least held it down, and sat there, smoking still.

Mason returned and began to clear away. "Madame Zabri-ska has ordered some soup and claret to be placed in the hall for her ladyship, my lord,” said he, in explanation of his action. Soup and claret might mean anything—peace or war—going or staying —anything except sitting down to table with him. On the whole their omen was not encouraging. A sudden thought shot across his brain: “By Jove, if she's taken my cab!” He jumped up. but in a moment sat down again. The coup would be a good one, but it would not beat him. He would walk to Mingham and get a bed there. He was quite clear that he would not sleep alone at Blent. He glanced at the dock again; to catch the train at Fillingford she must start at ten—and so with him. Stay though, she might go to Merrion. Mina would give her shelter.

She had looked very beautiful. Oh, yes, yes! Harry smiled as he coneeded the natural man that point. It was seen plainly in retrospect; he had not noticed it much at the time. He had been too much occupied in proving her a curmudgeon. One thing at a time was the Tristram way—provided the time were reasonably short. But he felt it now, and began to wonder if he had said too much. He decided that he had not said a word too much.

At last he got up very deliberately and went into the hall. It was a quarter to ten; the soup and the claret were there. Harry stood looking at them a moment, but they could not answer his question. With an impatient shrug of his shoulders he walked out into the garden. And there his first thought was not of Cecily. It was of Blent, Blent his own again, come back to him enriched by the experience of its loss, now no more all his life, but the background of that new life he had begun to make for himself. He was no longer puffed up by the possession of it —the new experiences had taught him a lesson there—but he was infinitely satisfied. Blent for his own, in his own way, on his own terms — that was what he wanted. See how fair it was in the still night! He was glad and exultant that it was his again. Was he too a curmudgeon then? Harry did not perceive how any reasonable person could say such a thing. A man may value what is his own without being a miser or a churl.

Nobody was to be seen in the garden —not Neeld, not Mina, nor Cecily. In surprise he walked the length and breadth of it without finding l any of them. He went on to the bridge and peered about, an»d then on to the road; he looked even in the river in a curiosity that forgot the impossible. He was alone. With a quick step he came back and strode round the house to the stables. His fly was gone. He searched for a man to question; there was none; they had all gone to supper or to bed. And the fly was gone. He returned to the bridge with an uncomfortable feeling of loneliness. Something came upon him, an impulse or an instinct. There was still a chanee. She was not in the house, she was not in the garden. There was one other place where she still might be —if indeed she had not fled and left him desolate. Where? The answer seemed so easy to him, her choice of a spot so obvious. If he found her anywhere that night he would find her by the Pool, walking on the margin of its waters —where he had seen her first and started at the thought that she was his mother’s phantom. He walked quickly up the valley, not thinking, his whole being strung to wait for and to meet the answer to his one great question. On what things a man’s life seems to hang! A flutter of white through the darkness! That was all. Harry saw it with a great leap of the" heart. His quick pace dropped to a leisurely saunter; he strolled on. She

was walking towards him. Presently she stopped, and, turning towards the water, stood looking down into it. The Pool was very black that night, the clouds thick overhead. But for her white frock he might never have seen her at all. He came up to her and spoke in a eareless v oice. “Where’s Neeld?” he asked. “I can’t find him anywhere.” "He’s gone back to Fairholme, Harry. It was late. I was to say goodnight to von for him.” "And what have you done with Mina?” His voice was level, even, and restrained. “Mina’s gone to Merrion.” She paused before she added: “She was tired, so 1 put her in your fly to go up the hill.” There was silence for a moment. Then he asked: "Did you tell the fly to come back again?” Silence again, and then a voice of deceptive meekness, of hidden mirth, answered him: “No, Harry.” “I knew you’d be here, if anywhere.” “Well, 1 was sure you'd come here to look for me, before you gave me up.” She put out her hands, and he took them in his. “It was all true that you said about me, all abominally true.” He did not contradict her. "That’s why I’m here,” she went on. "When you’ve feelings like that, it’s your duty not to run away from the place that excites them, but to stay there and fight them down manfully.” “1 agree.” said Harry gravely. “When you’ve basely deceived and tricked somebody it’s cowardly to run away. The straightest thing is to stay with that person and try to redeem your character.” “How did you know it?” she asked. “I hardly knew it was in my heart myself.” “It sharpens a man’s wits to be called a liar—and not to be able to deny the name.” “And you called me a—curmudgeon! Oh. how did you happen on that funny old word?” Her laugh rang fresh and gay through the quiet of the night. “After you’d gone. Mina came to me.” “What happened then?” "Well. I ought to have cried—and Mina did.” “Did Mina stop you going?” “Mina? No!" The acme of scorn was in her voice. “What then?” he asked, drawing her a little nearer to him. “I wanted to obey your wishes. You said I was to stay—and you’d go.” “Yes, but you’ve sent away the fly.” objected Harry. “Well, all that you said of me was true, too.” “We should start on a clear understanding then?” “I’m a liar—and you’re a curmudgeon? Yes.” “What awful quarrels we shall have! ” “I don’t care a hang for them,” said Harry. “And what about the arbitration?” "Absurd, if I’m going to live in a state of war!” Suddenly came a sound of wheels rolling briskly along the road from behind them. Cecily sprang away .with a start. “Oh. the fly’s not come back?” she cried. Perhaps there’s still a chance for one of us.” She caught him by the arm. “Disten! Is it stopping? No! It must be past the house!” “Do you want it to stop?” he asked. She turned her eyes on him: he saw them gleam through the darkness. He saw her lips just move; he heard no more than the lingering fear, the passionate reproach, of her murmured exclamation, “Oh. Harry!” The next instant a voice rang out in the night, loud, mellow, and buoyant. They listened as it sang, its notes dominating the sound of the wheels and seeming to fill the air around them, growing louder as the wheels came near, sinking again as they passed on the road to Mingham: t ?„ me only wlth thine yes, And I win pledge with mine: Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I’ll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine:—" Gradually, melodiously, and happily the voice died away in the distance, and silence came. Harry

drew his love to him. "Dear old Bob Broadley!” said he softly. "He’s driving back from Fairholme, and he seems most particularly jolly.” "Yes,” she murmured. Then she broke into a low. merry, triumphant laugh. “1 don’t see why he should be so particularly jolly.” She pressed his hand hard, laughing again. "He’s only engaged,” she whispered. “But we’re married, aren’t we, Harry?” “My dear, my dear, my Tear!” said he. CHAPTER XXX. TILL THE NEXT GENERATION. Major Duplay had taken a flat in town, and Mina had come up to aid him in the task of furnishing it. The Major was busy and prosperous in these days. Blinkhampton was turning up trumps for all concerned, for Iver, for Harry, for Southend. and for him; the scheme even promised to be remunerative to the investing public. So he had told Mina that he must be on the spot, and that henceforward the country and the Continent would know him only in occasional days of recreation. He also murmured something about having met a very attractive woman, a widow of thirty-five. The general result seemed to be that he had forgotten his sorrows, was well content, and a good deal more independent of his niece’s society and countenance than he had been before. All this Mina told to Lady Evenswood when she went to lunch in Green-street. “Yes, I think I’ve launched uncle,” said she complacently, “and now I shall devote myself to the Tristrams.” “You’ve been donig that for a long time, my dear.” “Yes, I suppose I have really,” she laughed. “I’ve been a sort of Miss Swinkerton—l wish you knew her! Only I devoted myself to one family, and she does it for all the neighbourhood.” Lady Evenswood looked at her with a kindly smile. “You were rather in love with Harry, you know.” she said. “Which was very absurd, but —yes, I was. Only then Cecily came and—■ well, it was altogether too artistic for me even to want to interfere. If I had wanted it would have made no difference, of course. They’ve been pressing' me to go on living at Merrion, and I shall.” “Oh, if you could get nothing but a pigstye on the estate you would take it. Though I don’t know what you’ll find to do.” “To do? Oh. plenty. Why, they’re only just beginning, and —” The wave of her hands expressed the endless possibilities of a Tristram household. “And gradually you’ll glide into being an old woman like me —looking at the new generation.” “Her children and his! There ought to be something to look at,” said Mina, wistfully. “But we’ve not done with Harry himself yet.” “Robert says he’s too fond of making money or he might do something in politics.” “It isn’t money exactly. It's a good deal Blent. He wants to make that splendid. Perhaps he’ll come to the politics in time.” “He’s made you believe in him. anyhow.” “Yes, and I know I don’t count. All the same, I’ve seen a good deal of him. Mr Neeld and I have been in it right from the beginning.” “And in the end it was all a mare’s nest. Fancy if Addie Tristram had known that.” “I think she liked it just as well as she thought it was. And I’m sure Harry did.” “Oh, if he’s like that he’ll never do for the British public, my dear. He may get their money, but he won’t get their votes. After all. would you have the country governed by Addie Tristram’s son?” “I suppose it would be rather risky,” said the Imp, reluctantly. But she cheered up directly on the strength of an obvious thought. “There are much more interesting thins than politics,” she said. “And how is Cecily?” asked Lady Evenswood. “Oh, she’s just adorable, and Mrs

Iver’s got her a very good housekeeper.” The old lady laughed as she turned to welcome Lord Southend.

"I ve just met Disney." he remarked. "He doesn’t seem to mind being out." "Oh. he’ll be back before long and without his incumbrances. ' And Flora’s delighted to get a winter abroad. It couldn't have happened more conveniently, she says.” "He told me to tell you that he thought your young friend—he meant Harry Tristram—was lost for ever now.” "What a shame!” cried Mina, indignantly. H s e I Kobert; He never could understand that a man has a history, just as a country has. He is and ought to be part of his family.” /X nSe of b *- s to>'ical continuity.” ust wL th r" 1 i,gree ’ i ’”‘ l ornmusiy I-“ Sh 1 DUn *. y criHenT?"’' - VO L“ gainst him on sonm’^X^H^’’" 1 thin;?” IS de ';° a r n k de a j Mi^ hamptOn sI’AkTTY W q the" nk heaven he wouldn’t have the viscounty.” na\e agreed Tadv F haVe been Vocable,” , Lad\ Evenswood. sode*” Very Cnrious epi--v e ? ■ X .° more than that.” ies, it is more.” ci ied Minn “w-4.1 out it he’d never have marked Cecilv ” Romance. Madame Zabris]- a h^X^" thend Sh °° k b -d M

Mina flinched a little under the opprobrium of the word. Yet whv’ In these days we have come to recognise—indeed there has been small chcnce in the matter, unless a man would throw away books and wear cotton-wool in his- ears—that the romance of one generation makes the realties of the next, and that a love! nr ii tears old becomes a Pioblem in heredity, demanding the . tention of the learned, and receiving that of the general public also So that though the affair and the man be to all seeming- insignificant consolation may be found "in the prospect of a posthumous importance, and he who did nothing very visible in his lifetime may. when his son’s biography comes to be written, be held grandfather to an epic poem or a murder on the high seas—and it seems to be considered that it is touch and go which way the thing turns out. Are there then any episodes left? Does not everything become an enterprise of great pith and moment, with results that will probably. some day or other, be found to admit of mathematical demonstr-

tion? Happily the human race, in practice if not in theory, declines the conclusion. We know that we are free, and there’s an end of it, said Dr. Johnson. Well, at least w-e can still think that we are doing what we like—and that’s the beginning of most things. That temporary inferiority of Bob Broadley’s. on which Cecily had touched so feelingly, was soon redressed. ami after the wedding Harry had a talk with the bride. It was not unnatural that she should blush a little when he spoke to her -a passing tribute to the thought of what might have been. Harry greeted it with a laugh. "I suppose we’d better be straightforward about this?" he said. “Mingham’s so near Blent, you see. We’re both very glad, aren’t we. Mrs Broadley?" "I imagine so," said Janie. “You show no signs of pining anyhow." "And as to our behaviour—there’s not a father in the kingdom who wouldn’t think us right.” "I was the worst —because I think I was in love with Bob all the time. ” 1 was just as bad—because 1 thought you were, too,” said Harry. "How eould we do it then?” "sue asked. "That’s the odd thing. It didn’t seem at all out of the way at the time." he pondered. "I ou’d do it again now, if the case arose, but I shouldn’t. That’s the difference." said she. Harry considered this remark for a moment> with an impartial air. "Well, perhaps I snould." he admitted at last, “but you needn't tell that to Ceeily. Content yourself with discussing it with Mina or Mr Neeld.” "1 ni tired of both of them,” she cried. “They do nothing but talk about you." that night as he sat in the garden at Blent with his wife. Harry returned the compliment by talking of the Imp. He looked up towards Mention and saw the light in the windows. “I think Mina is with us for life, Ceeily,” said he. “I like her to be,” she answered with a laugh. “First because I like being loved, and she loves me. And then I like you to be loved, and she loies you. Besides, she's been so closely mixed up with it all, hasn’t she? She knew about you before I did. she knew Blent before I did. And it s not only with you and me. She knew your mother. Addie Tristram, too.” "'les. Mina goes right back to the beginning of the thing.” "And the thing, as you call it. is what brought us here together. So Mina seems to have had something to do with that too. It all comes back

to me when I look at her, and I like to have her here.” "Well, she’s part of the family story now. And she’ll probably keep a journal and make entries about ns. like the late Mr Cholderton, and some day lie edited by a future Mr Neeld. Mina must stop, that's clear." "It’s clear, anyhow—because nothing would make her go.” said Cecily. •’Let’s go up the hill and see her now?” he suggested. Together they climbed the hill and reached the terrace. There were people in the drawing-room, and Harrv signed to Cecily to keep out of sight. They approached stealthily. ••Who’s with her. I didn’t know any one was staying here,” whispered Cecily. Harry turned his face towards her, smiling, “Hush, it’s old Neeld.” They peeped in. Neeld was sitting in an arm-chair with some sheets of paper in his hand. He had his spectacles on, and apparently had been reading something aloud to Mina; indeed they heard his voice die away just as they came up. Mina stood in front of him, her manner full of her old excitement. “Yes, that’s it, that’s just right!” they heard her exclaim. "She stood in the middle of the room and”— Harry pressed his wife’s hand and laughed silently —“she cried out just what you've read. I remember exactly how she looked and the very words that Mr Cholderton uses. ’Think of the difference it makes, the enormous difference!’ she said. Oh. it might have been yesterday, Mr Neeld!” Harry leapt ever the window-sill and burst into the room with a laugh. ’’Oh, you dear silly people, you’re at it again!” said he. “The story does not lose its interest for me,” remarked old Mr Neeld primly. and he added, as he greeted Cecily, "It won’t so long as I can look at your face, my dear. You keep Addie Tristram still alive for me.” "She's Lady Tristram—and I'm the enormous difference. I suppose." said Harry. Mina and Neeld did not quite understand why Cecily turned so suddenly and put iter hand in Harry's, saying "No. Harry, there’s no difference now." Meanwhile, down in Blentmouth, Miss Swinkerlon looked up from the local paper and remarked across the table to Mrs Trumbler: "Here’s an announcement that Lady Tristram will give a ball at Blent in January. You’ll remember that I told you that two months ago, Mrs Trumbler." “Yes, Miss Swinkerton. but that was before all the ’’ "Really. I’m not often wrong, my dear,” interrupted Miss S. decisively. "Well. 1 hope there won’t be anymore changes,” sighed Mrs Trumbler. “They're so very- startling.” She might rest in peace awhile. Addie Tristram was dead, and the title to Blent was safe till the next generation. Beyond that it would not perhaps be safe to speak in view of the Tristram blood and the Tristram ways. (The End.)