Newspaper Page Text
70T u
VOL XXXVIII
ATLANTA, GA., WEEK ENDING MARCH 9, 1901
ONE CENT
Tristram of Blent
Sy ANTHONY HOPE Being the^tory o/
Brilliant Adthor of “THE PRISONER OF ZENDA,"
"RUPERT OF HENTZAU," and other Fascinating Books
t PART ONE *
CHAPTER. ONE
A Suppressed Passage
R. jenktnson neeld
was an elderly man of
comfo.rta hie private
means; lie had cham,
bers in Pall Mall, eloso
to tlie Imperium C!ul>,
and his short, stoutish
figure, topped by a
spectacled face, might
be seen entering that
dignified establishment
1 very day at lunch
time, and also at the
hour of dinner on the
days when he had no
invitation elsewhere. He
had once practiced at
the bar, and liked to
explain that he had deserted his pro
fession for the pursuit of literature.
Ho did not, however, write on his
own account; he edited. He would
<idil anything, provided there was no
great public demand for an edition of it.
His taste was curious and his conscience
acute. He was very minute and very
scrupulous, painstaking and very
discreet in the exercise of his ditties.
Sometimes he fell into a sore struggle be
tween curiosity and discretion, having
impulses in himself which he forebore to
attribute to posterity.
He was in just such n fix now, so he
thought to himself, as he perused the
manuscript before him. It was the jour
nal of his deceased friend, Josiah Cholder
ton, sortie time member of parliament (in
the liberal interest) for the borough of
Baxton in Yorkshire, commercial delegate
to the congress of Munich in 1S64, and in
ventor of the hygroxeric method of dress-
■ Ing wool. At times, and especially during
his visits to the continent, the diarist in
dulged himself in digressions about people
he encountered, and these assumed now
and then a. character so personal, or di
vulged episodes so private that the editor
had recourse to his blue pencil and drew
il with a sigh through pages which he
had himself found no sw p ▼•olipf from the
severer record of Cliolderton’s services
to the commerce of his country. Mr.
Nei l l sat now with blue pencil judicially
poised, considering the following passage
in his friend's recollections. The entry
bore date Heidelberg. 1S75:
"At the widow's (Mr. Ctholderton is
speaking of a certain Mme. de Kries)
pleasant villa. I became acquainted with
a lady who made something of a sensation
in her day, and whom I remember both
for her own sake and because of a curious
occurrence connected with her. A year
and a half before (or thereabouts) society
bad been startled by the elopement of
Miss T. with Sir R— E—. They were
married, went to France and lived to
gether a month or two, suddenly Sir R—
went off alone. The lady was not long
left in solitude, and when I met her she
passed as Mrs. F—, wife of Captain F—.
The captain seemed to me an ordinary
good looking, reckless, young fellow, but
Mrs. F— Was a more striking person. She
was tall, graceful and very fair, a beau
tiful woman (I might rather say girl) be
yond question. Talk revealed her as an
absolute child in a. moral sense, with a
child’s infinite candor, a child’s infinite de
ceit, n child's love of praise, a child’s de
fiance of censure where approval would
lie too dearly earned. The natural feel
ings of a woman, at least, were strong
in her, and she was fretting over the pros
pects of tlie child who was soon to he
born to her. Captain F— shared her anx
iety. I understood their feelings even
more fully (in any case the situation was
distressing) when I learned from Mme.
ile Kries that in certain events (which
happened later) the lady and her baby
afti i’ her would become persons of rank
and importance.
“Now comes the scene which has
stamped itself on my memory. I was sit
ting in Madame de Jvrios’s parlor with
her and her daughter—an odd dark little
thing five or six years old. Suddenly Mrs.
F— came in. She held a letter in her
hand and waved it in the air, crying:
‘Sir R—s dead! Sir R—'s dead! We can
be married! O, we’re in time, in time, in
time!’
Extraordinary as such exclamations
may appear, when the circumstances and
my own presence are considered, I have
repeated them verbatim. Then she sank
down on the sofa. Mme. de Kries kneel
ing by her while the Imp (as I called the
child, whom I disliked) stared at her
open-eyed, wondering, no doubt, what
the fuss was about. Directly after. F—
came in, almost as upset as Mrs. F—,
and the pair between them managed to
explain to ns that she had received a
letter from Sir R—’s servant (with whom
she had apparently maintained some
communication) announcing that his mas
ter had, after two days’ illness, died of
heart complaint on the Gth of June'. "Think
of the difference it makes, the enormous
difference!’ she gasped, jumping up again
and standing in tile middle of the room.
‘We shall be married directly,’ she went
on with that strange absence of shame or
pretense which always marked her, ‘and
then it'll be all right, and nobody’ll 1m
able to say a word in the future!’ She
went on in this strain for a long while,
until Mme. de Kries :tt last insisted on her
calming herself and proposed to accom
pany her to her own house. At this point
J made my excuses and retired, the Imp
following me to the door and asking me,
as I went out, why people had to be
married again when other people died.
She was a child who needed wiser and
firmer bringing up than her mother gave
her.
"X did not myself see Captain and Mrs.
F— again, as T left Heidelberg the next
day, the 22d of June. I learned, however,
from Mme. de Kries that the wedding
was hurried on and took place on the
day following my departure; after this
the pair went to Baden and there, three
weeks later, the child—a boy—was born.
I must confess that I was glad the young
couple avoided the calamity they were
in dread of.
“My feelings were, however, abruptly
changed when, on paying a flying visit
to Mme. de Kries, a few months later, I
heard the sequel of the story, told me in
the strictest confidence, and in violation,
1 fear, of the old lady’s pledge of secre
cy. Sir R— E— did not in fact die on the
date re,. rted. He fell into a collapse,
mistaken for death by those about him
and even by his medical attendant; after
lying in this state for twenty-four hours
he revived and lived nearly a week long
er. A second letter, apprising Mrs. F—
of this fact and announcing tlie correct
date of his death as the 12th of June,
reached her at Baden on tlie 28th. By
this time she was married, but the valid
ity of her new union, solemnized on the
23d, did not appear to be affected. Noth
ing more was done and the boy was born,
as I have stated, early in July. Where,
as a matter of form, and to avoid doubt
in the future. Captain F— wrote for the
official certificate of Sir R—‘s death. It
came as a thunderbolt. Sir R— had been
residing in a small Russian town near
the frontier; he was interested, 1 under
stood, in some business there. The ser
vant to whom I have referred was an un
educated man and he had picked up n
little French, but spoke no Russian. The
servant gave the dates 1 have set down
—the 6th of June in the first letter, the
12th in the second. The letter writer put
them down; and Mrs. F— read and im
mediately accepted them. It did not cross
her mind or Captain F—\s that the dates
used were the ordinary Russian dates—
were, in fact, ‘old style,’ and consequent
ly twelve days behind the reckoning of
Germany or of England. It did not occur
cither to Mme. de Kries or to myself to
raise the question. Indeed, who thinks of
the ’old style’ at this period of the world’s
history? Besides, I did not know at that
time, and I do not think Mme. de Kries
did, where the first letter came from;
Mrs. F— said nothing about it. Rut
when the certificate arrived—about the
middle of July, as I understood, the mis
take was clear; for a note In the official’s
hand translated the dates into new style
for «’ benefit of the foreigners to whom
lie was supplying the document. Sir R—
E—, first reported dead on the 6th of
June, old style, otherwise the 18th of
June, new style, had actually died on
the 12tli, old style, or 24th, new style.
“The mistake as to the. date of death
was the first source of confusion, ince it
caused Mrs. F—’s wedding to take place
while her husband. Sir R—, had still a
day to live. But this error would not in
itself have proved fatal, since there
would still have been time to repeat the
ceremony and make a valid marriage of
it before the birth of the child. Here
the misapprehension about the old style
came in. Led to believe that, although
Sir R— lived six days longer than was
originally reported, yet lie died, none tlie
less on the 12th of June, the F—’s did nor
have the ceremony repeated. But he
died in fact on the 24th, as his wife reck
oned time, and her w'edding to Captain
F— on the 23d was an idle and useless
form. When the discovery was made the
boy was born—and born out of lawful
Wedlock.
“What did they do then? Madame de
Kries was reticent, but 1 extracted from
her the information that they were hur
riedly married again. One could laugh,
if the matter had not been so terribly
serious to them and to their boy. For
Mrs. F— was not indeed in possession of
—but next in succession to a considerable
estate and ancient title. Marrying again
could not mend the matter. What else
they did to mend, or try to mend it.
Madame de Kries professed not to know.
I myself do not know either. There is
only one thing to say. They could not
alter the date of death; they could not al
ter the date of tl.e wedding; perhaps it
would seem rather more possible to alter
the date of the birth. At any rate, that
is no business cf mine. I have set the
story down because it seemed to me a
curious and interesting episode. For my
own part, I am inclined to hope that the
baby’s prospects in life will not be wreck
ed by the absurd Russian habit of using
the Old Style.
“To return to serious questions, the
customs barrier between—”
.Mr. Jenkinson Neeld laid down liis
friend’s journal and leant back in his
chair.
“Really!” he murmured to himself.
“Really, really!”
Frowning in a perplexed fashion, he
pushed tin- manuscript aside and twiddled
the blue nencil between his fingers. Tlie
customs barrier of which Josiah Cholder
ton was about to speak had no power to
interest him. the story which he had
read interested him a good deni; it was
an odd little bit of human history, a
disastrous turn of human fortunes. Be
sides, Mr. Neeld knew his London. Ho
shook his head at the journal approving
ly, rose from his chair, went to his book
case and took down a Peerage. A remin
iscence was running in his head. He
turned to the letter T.
“Tristram of Blent—Adelaide Louisa
Aimoe, in her own right baroness—twen-
ty-fliinl in descent, (he barony descend
»ng to heirs general. Born 17 December,
IS53. Married first Sir Randolph Edge
hart—no issue. Secondly, Captain Henry
Vincent Fitzhubert (late Scots guards),
died 1877. Issue—one son (and heir) Hon.
Henry Austen Fitzhubert Tristram, born
20th July, 1875. The name oi Tristram
was assumed in lieu of Fitzhubert by
loyal license, Ii£4—Seat, Blent Hall,
Devon.”
Here Mr. Neeld laid down the book.
He had no further concern with th e an
cestry, the ramifications, the abodes or
peg sessions of the Tristrams of Blent. To
him who knew, the entry itself was ex-
pre: sive in what it said and in what it
eimitted. read in conjunction with Josiah
Cholderton’s journal it was vet more elo-
quict. By itself it hinted a scandal —
else, why no dates for the marriages?
With *he journal it said something more.
For the 20th is not “early in July.” He
shut the bcole hastily and put it back on
the shelf. Scissors were to his hand;
with them he carefully cut out from the
iranusciipt the whole account of Mr.
Cholderton’s visit to Heidelberg, dated it.
black eyes still deriding him. “T don’t
want a big place,” she explained in Eng
lish, with a foreign touch about it.
“There s only myself and my uncle. Ma
jor Duplay. He’ll be in directly, I ex
pect, and we’ve no more money than wo
want, Mr. Sloyd.”
This explanation of her position had
the 1 effect of making Sloyd’s manner
rather less florid and his language less
flowery.
“Among second-class but eminently gen
oountably did? She would weep then—but
for their misfortune, be it understood not
for any fault of hers.
It would be fun to choose Merrlon Lodge
as her summer home, first because her
uncle would wonder why in the worid
she took it, and, secondly.■ because she
had guessed that somebody might oe sur
prised to see her there. So she laid her
plan even as she had played her tricks
in the days when she was an odd little
Her Great BlacK Eyes Still Deriding Him 'While Her Thin Face 'Was Screwed Up
Into Seriousr ess
marked it with the page to which it be
longed in the journal, and locked it away
in a drawer.
"Good gracious me!” he muttered.
“Tlie thing is nothing more or less than
an imputation on the legitimacy of the
son and heir!”
That same afternoon he went over to
the Jmperium to vote at the election of
members. It struck him its one of the
small coincidences of life that among
tlie candidates who faced the ballot was
a Colonel Wilmot Edge, R. E.
“Any relation, I wonder?” mused Mr.
Neeld, as he dropped in an affirmative
ball. But it may be added, since not even
the secrets of club ballots are to be held
sacred, that be bestowed one of a differ
ent sort on a certain Mr. William Iver,
who was describeil as a “contractor,”
and whose name was familiar and con
spicuous on the boardings that screened
new buildings in London, and was conse
quently objectionable to Mr. Neeld’s fas
tidious mind.
“1 don’t often blackball,” lie remarked
to Lord Southend as they were sitting
down to whist, “but really don’t you think
tlie Imperium should maintain—er—a cer
tain level?”
‘Tver’s a devilish rich fellow and not a
bad fellow, either,” grunted my lord.
CHAPTER. TWO
Mr. Cholderton’s Imp.
"Yes, madam, an elegant and spacious
residence, Filton park. The photo? Here
il is, madam. And Notts is a very eligi
ble county—socially speaking. I’ve sent
several families to Notts. That photo,
madam? Hatehley manor, in Sussex.
Yes, good position—a tritie now, perhaps—
1 have heard complaints of—er—effluvium
from the river—I’m anxious to give you
perfect satisfaction, madam. 1 want you
to come back, madam, another summer.
Yes, Birdcup is really a palatial resi
dence—Hants, yes—a beautiful county.
But between ourselves, madam, liis lord-
ship is a little hard to deal with. On
tlie whole I should prefer to recommend
Winterlnirst. near Maidstone, a pleasant
town, Maidstone, aim the clergy, I'm in
formed, extremely active and sympa
thetic.’’
“It's a very ugly house,” remarked
Mme. Zahriska, throwing away the photo
graph of Winterhurst with a gesture of
decided refusal.
Mr. Sloyd stroked liis sleek hair and
smiled depreciatingly.
“With residences as with—er—ladies,
beauty is only skin deep,” said he. “A
thoroughly modern residence, madam—
hot and cold—south aspect—’’ He stop
ped suddenly, perceiving that the "ueer.
dark little woman in the big chair was
laughing at him.
"Oh, I know," she interrupted, her great
teel residences,” he began, “I could con
fidently recommend—”
"Where’s this?” she interrupted, pick
ing up another photograph and regarding
it with apparent liking. Looking at the
foot, she read along “Merrion Lodge,”
property of the Rt. Hon. Baroness Tris
tram of Blent.” She looked up sharply
at Sloyd.
“Ye-es, ye-es,” said Sloyd, without
much enthusiasm. “A very pretty neigh
borhood—a few miles from Blentmouth—
rising place, Blentmouth. And it's a
cheap house—small, you see, and old-fash
ioned.”
He waited for her to speak again, but
she had turned thoughtful as she sat lin
gering the photograph. Presently she
began to smile and said; “Find out about
Merrion Lodge for me, Mr. Sloyd.”
He began to gather up his pictures and
papers.
“Is Baron Tristram alive?” she asked,
suddenly.
Sloyd recovered his air of superiority.
“Her ladyship is a peeress in her own
right,” he explained.
“She’s not married, then?”
“A widow, madame.”
“And wasn’t her husband Baron Tris
tram ?”
“Her husband would not have been
Lord—excuse me, madame, we say lord—
Tristram of Blent. Her son will succeed
to the title, of course. The family re
side at Blent hall, only a few hundred
yards from Merrion Lodge.”
“I don’t understand the family arrange
ments,” remarked Mme. Zahriska, “hut
I daresay I shall 1 earn it all if i go. Good
morning, Mr. Sloyd.”
Sloyd was makii - his bow when the
door opened and a loan came in. He was
tall, erect and good looking. Both air and
manner were youthful, although perhaps
With a trace of artifice. He would pass
for thirty-five on a casual glance, but not
a longer one.
“My uncle, Major Duplay,” said the lit
tle woman. “This is Mr. Sloyd, who’s
come about the house, uncle.”
Duplay greeted the house agent with
grave courtesy and entered into conver
sation with him, while Mme. Zahriska
relapsed again into an alert silence and
watched the pair.
The last thing that Mme. Zahriska—the
style sat oddly on the child-like face and
figure, but Mina Zahriska at the age of
twenty-eight had been a widow three
years—desired to do was harm; the thing
she best loved to make was mischief. The
essence of mischief lay for her—perhaps
for everybody—in curiosity; it was to put
people in the situations in which they
least expected to find themselves, and to
observe how they comported themselves
therein. As for hurting their interests,
or even their feelings—no; she was cer
tain that she did not want that; was she
not always terribly sorry when that hap
pened, as it sometimes and quite unae-
girl, and Mr. Cholderton, not liking her.
had with some justice christened her the
Imp.
Major Duplay bowed Mr. Sloyd to the
door, with the understanding that full
details of Merrion Lodge were to be fur
nished in a day or two.
“And now, dear Mina,” said he, "what
has made you set your mind on what
seems distinctly the least desirable of
these houses?”
“it’s the cheapest. I expect, and I want
to economize.”
“People always do as soon as they’ve
got any money.” reflected Duplay in a
puzzled ton -. “If you were on half pay.
as i am, you’d never want to do it.”
“Well. I’ve another reason.” This was
already saying more than she had meant
to say.
“Which you don't mean to tell me**’
“Certainly nut.”
With a shrug he tock out liis cigarette
case and handed it to her.
“You and your secrets!” he exclaimed,
good luimoredly. “Really, Mina, T more
than earn my keep by the pleasure I
give you in not telling me things. And
then you go and do it!”
"Shan’t this time,” said Air. Chohler-
ten’s Irrp, seeming not a day more than
five, in spite of her smoking cigarette
and her smart costume.
“Luckily I’m not curious—and 1 can
trust you to do nothing wrong.”
“Well, I suppose so,” she agreed, with
scornful composure. “Did you ever hear
mother speak of a Mrs. Fitzhubert?”
The major smiled under liis heavy mous
tache as be answered, “Never.”
"Well, I have,” said Mina, with a. world
of significance. “I heard her first through
the door,” she added, with a candid smile.
“I was listening.”
“You often were in those days.”
“O, I am still—but in the inside of the
door now. And she told me about it af
terwards of her own accord. But it
v ouldn’t interest you, uncle.”
"Not in its present stage of revela
tion.” he agreed, with a little yawn.
“The funny old Englishman—you never
saw him, did you?—Mr. Cholderton—he
knew her. He rather admired her, too.
He was there when she rushed in and—
never mind! Old Cholderton hated me—
he'd have liked to box my ears, I know'.
But I think he was a. little in love with
Mrs. Fitzhubert.”
Major Duplay had resigned himself to
a patient endurance of inadequate hints.
In time he would know all, supposing,
that is. there there were really anything
to know. Meanwhile he was not curious
abcut other people’s affairs, he minded
bis awn business, keeping young occupied
much of his time; and then there was
always the question of hrt.r it might prove
possible to supplement the half pay to
which his years of service in the Swiss
army entitled him; it was scanty, and
hut for his niece’s hospitality, really in-
AN OLD HOUSE
i? Copyright 1900 ■?
sufficient. He thought that, lie was a
clever man, he had remained an honest
man, and he saw' no reason why fortune
should not some day make him a com
fortable man; she had never done so yet.
having sent him into the world as the
fifth child of a Protestant pastor in a
French speaking canton and neve- hav
ing given him so much as a well-to-do
relative (even Madam de Kries’s villa was
on a modest scale) until Mina married
Adolf Zahriska anil kept that gentleman’s
monev, although she had the misfortune
to lose his company. His death seemed
to Duplay, at least, no great calamity;
that lie died childless did not appear to
ha\e disappointed Mina, and was cer
tainly no ground of complaint on her
mile’s part.
Presumably Mr. Sloyd’s inquiries elic
ited satisfactory information, perhaps
Mina was not hard to please. At all
events, a week later she and the major
got out at Blentmouth station and found
Sloyd himself waiting to drive with them
to Merrion lodge. He sat with his back
to the horses in the landau and pointed
out the features of interest on the road.
"Five hundred people five years ago,”
he observed, waving liis hand over Blent
mouth in patronizing encouragement.
“Two thousand winter, three five summer
months now—largely due to William Iver,
Esq., of Fairholme—we shall pass Fair-
holme directly—a wealthy gentleman, who
takes great Interest in the development of
the town.”
It was all Greek to the major, but he
nodded politely. Mina was looking about
her with keen eyes.
"That’s Fairholme.” Slnvd went on, as
they came to a large and rather new'
house, situated on the skirts of Blent
mouth. "Observe the glnss—those houses
cost thousands of pounds—grown peaches
all the year, they tell me. At this point
Madam Zahriska, we turn and pursue the
road by the river—” And so he 'ceased not
to play guide book till he landed them at
the door of Merrion lodge itself, after a
slow crawl of a quarter of a mile up
hill. Below them in the valley lay the lit
tle Brent, sparkling in the sunshine of the
summer afternoon, and beyond the river,
facing them on the opposite bank, no more
perhaps than 500 yards away, was Blent
ball. Mina ran to the parapet of the lev
eled terrace on which the lodge stood and
looked down.
“Among the minor seats of the nohility
Blent is considered a very perfect exam
ple.” she heard Sloyd say to the major,
who was unobtrusively but steadily urg
ing him in the direction of the landau.
She turned to bid him goodby and he came
up to her. bat In hand.
“Thank you. T like the place,” she said.
“Do you—do you think we shall make ac
quaintance with the people at Blent hall?”
"Her ladyship’s in noor health, I hear,
but T should imagine she would make
an effort to call or nt least send cards.
Goodby. madame.”
Duplay went into the bouse, Mina, re
maining still outside, engaged in the con
templation of her new' surroundings, above
all of Blent hall, which was invested W'ith
a special interest for her eyes. It was the
abode of Mrs. Fitzhubert.
With a little start she turned to find a
young man standing just on the other
side of the parapet. As ho raised his
bat her quick vision took Vim in as it
were In a complete picture—the thin yet
well made body, the slight stoop in the
shoulders, the high forehead bordered
with thick dark hair, growing in such a
shape that the brow seemed to rise al
most to a peak, a long nose, a sensitive
mouth, a pointed chin, dark eyes with
downward lips. The young man—she
would have guesed him at twenty-two or
twenty-three—had a complete composure
of manner. Somehow' she felt herself
in the presence of the lord of the soil,
an absurd enough thing to feel, she told
herself.
’M’adam Zahriska? My mother. Lady
Tristram, has sent me to bid you welcome
in her name—but not to disturb you by
coming in so soon after your journey. It
is our tradition to welcome guests at the
moment of their arrival.”
He spoke rather slowly, in a pleasant
voice, but with something in his air that
puzzled Mina. It seemed like a sort of
watchfulness—not a slyness (that would
have fitted so badly with the rest of him)
but perhaps one might say a wariness—
whether directed against her or himself
it was too soon for her even to conject
ure.
Still rather startled, she forgot to ex
press her thanks and said simply:
"You're Mr. Fitzhubert Tristram?”
“Mr. Tristram,” he corrected her, and
she noticed now' for the first time the
slow moving smile which soon became his
leading characteristic in her thoughts;
it took such a time to spread, it seemed
to feel its way; but it was a success when
it came. "1 use my father’s name only
as a Christian name now. Tristram is my
surname; that also, if 1 may repeat my
self, is one of our traditions.”
“What, to change your names? The
men, I mean?” she asked, laughing a
little.
"For anybody in the direct line to take
the name of Tristram—so that the Tris
trams of Blent should always be Tris
trams, you know, and not Fitzhuberts, or
Leighs, or Merrions—”
“Merrions?”
“My great-great—I forgot how many
greats—grandfathers was a Merrion
and—
“Built this house?"
“O, no—a house where this stands. The
old house was burned down in 1795."
“As recently as that?” she exclaimed
in surprise.
“1795,” he explained, “and this house
was run up then.”
Mina felt that there was here a touch
of pride; with a more complete mastery
of Idiomatic English she might, have call
ed it “swagger.” Nothing counted that
was less than a century old. it seemed,
and he spoke of a house of a hundred
years’ standing as she might of a wooden
shanty. Decidedly he was conscious of
his position—overconscious.
To bo Continued
il
