Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XXXIX No 2
ATLANTA, GA., IVEEK ENDING MARCH 16, 1901
Tristram of Blent *** sS«
CHAPTER TWO
continued
’M GLAD it was run up
in time for us to take
it.” she said, thinking
she would try the ef
fect of a little chaff
The effect was noth
ing. Harry Tristrain
r took no notice of the
remark.
“I see,” he observed,
“from your calling me
Fitzherbert. that you've
been looking up our re
cent history?”
“O, just what there is
In the peerage.” Her
look was mischievous
now, but she restrained
herself from any hint of special knowl
edge. “I’ll tell you as much of ours some
day.”
She broke Into a laugh, nnd then, car
ried away by the beauty of the scene, the
river and the stately, peaceful old houso
by It. she stretched out her hands to
ward Blent hall, exclaiming:
“But we haven't got anything like that
In our history!”
He turned to look at her, and stood in
silence for a minute or two. Then he
spoke softly:
“Yes, I love It,” he said.
She glanced at him. His eyes were ten
der. Turning, he saw her glance. In a
moment he seemed to veil his eyes and
to try to excuse the sentimental tone of
his remark by a matter-of-fact comment:
“But. of course, a man comes to like
a place when he's been accustomed to
think of it as his home for all his life
past and to come.”
“What would you do If you lost It?”
she asked.
'T've no Intention of losing It.” he an
swered. laughing, but looking again from
her and toward his home. “We've had It
GOO years. We shan't lose It now, I
think."
"No. I suppose not.” He was holding
out his hand. "Goodby. Mr. Tristram.
Mny I come and thank your mother?"
"Oh, but she'll come here. If she’s well
enough."
"I'll save her the Journey up the hill.”
He bowed in courteous acceptance of
* Tref mtfr as.he shook hands.
"You see the footbridge over the river
there? There's a gate at each end, . ut
the gates are never locked, so you can
reach us from the road that way, if you're
walking. If you want to drive, you must
gi a quarter of a mile higher up, just be
low the pool. Goodby, Mme. Zabriska.”
Mina watched him all the way down
the hill. He had made an impression on
her—an Intellectual impression not a sen
timental one.
"I wonder,” she thought, "If he knows
anything about Mrs. Fitzhubert—and I
wonder if it would make any difference
to him!” Memory carried her back in an
Instant to the moment when she, Mr.
Choldcrton's imp. heard that beautiful
woman cry: "Think of the difference it
makes, the enormous difference!” She
drew in her breath in a sudden gasp. An
idea had flashed into her mind, showing
her for the first time the chance of a
situation which had never yet crossed her
thoughts. . .
"Good gracious, is it possible that he
couldn't keep it, or that his mother
couldn't give it to him, all the same.
•f
CHAPTER. THREE
On Guard
Harry Tristram was Just on twenty-
three: to others and to himself, too, per
haps (>f a man himself can attain any
clear view) he seemed older. Even the
externals of his youth had differed from
the common! run. Sent to school like
other boys, he had come home from Har
row one Easter for the usual short holi
day. He had never returned; he had not
gone to the university; he had been
abroad a good deal, traveling and study
ing, but always in his mother's company.
It was known that she was in bad health;
it was assumed that either she was very
exacting or he very devoted, since to
separate him from her appeared impos
sible. Yet those who observed them to
gether saw no imperiousness on her part
and no excess of sentiment on his; friend
liness based on a thorough sympathy of
mind was his attitude if his demeanor
revealed it truly, while I-ady Tristram
was to her son as she was to all the
world at this time, a creature of feelings
now half cold and of moods that reflected
palely the intense impulses of her youth.
But a few years over forty, she grew
faded and faint in mind, it seemed, as
well as in body, and was no longer a
merry companion to the boy who never
left her. Tet he did not wish to leave
her.
His childhood at least had been happy;
Lady Tristram was then still the be-
wilderingly delightful companion who
had got into so much hot water and
made so many people eager to get in
after her. Joy lasted with her as long
as health did. and her health began to
fail only when her son was about fifteen.
Another thing happened about then,
which formed the prelude to the most
vivid scene in the boy's life. Lady Tris
tram was not habitually a religious wo
man. but happening to be in a mood that
laid her open to the influence, she heard
a sermon in London one day preached by
a young man famous at the time, a great
searcher of fashionable hearts. She drove
straight from the church (it was a Friday
morning) to Paddington and took the first
train home. Harry was there—back from
school for his holiday—and she found him
in the smoking room weighing a fish
which he had caught in the pool that the
Blent forms above the weir. There and
then she fell on her knees on the floor
and poured forth to him the story of that
Odyssey of hers which had shocked Lon
don society, and is touched upon in Mr.
ClioMerton's Journal. He listened
i . / '■> 3‘V-i;
Jt Duel Began -0 Duplay Had Headiness, Suavity
•. y . _ ,)r >k-’*•' A w *4 -- ^ - ■—*— - -y -
Or Harry’s Side Was The Stronger Suggestion of Power
amazed, embarrassed, puzzled up to a
point, a boy’s normal awkwardness was
raised to its highest pitch; he did not
want to hear his mother call herself a
wicked woman; and, anyhow, it was a
long while ago, and he did not under
stand it all very well. The woman was
caught by the luxury of confession, of
humiliation; of offering her back to the
whip. She told him he was not her heir—
that he would not be Tristram of Blent.
For a moment she laid her head on the
floor at his feet. She heard no sound from
him. and presently looked up at him
again. His embarrassment had gone; he
was standing rigidly still, his eyes gazing
out toward the river. his forehead
wrinkled in a frown. He was thinking.
She went on kneeling there, saying no
more, staring at her son. It was char
acteristic of her that she did not risk
diminishing the effectiveness of the scene,
or tile tragedy of her avowal by explain
ing the perverse accident owing to
which her fault h.ad entailed such an ag
gregation of evil. Harry learned that
later.
Later—and in a most different sort of
interview. The discussion was resumed
a week later (Lady Tristram had spent
the interval in bed) on a business foot
ing. She found in him the same care- j
lessness of the world and its obligations *
that was in herself, but found it carried
to the point of scorn and allied to a
tenacity of purpose and a keenness of
vision which she had never owned. Not
a reproach esoaped him—less, she
thought, from any generosity than be
cause he chose to concentrate his mind
on something useful. But he told her at
once that he was not going back to
Harrow. She understood; she agreed to
be watched, she abdicated her rule, she
put everything in his hands and obeyed
him.
Thus at IS Harry Tristram took up
his burden and seemed to take up his
manhood, too. He never wavered; he
always assumed that right and justice
were on his side, that he was not mere
ly justifiable in holding his place, but
bound in duty to keep it. The confed
erates set no limit to their preparations
against danger and their devices to avoid
detection. If lies were necessary, they
would lie; where falsification was wanted,
they falsified. No security relaxed his
vigilance, but his vigilance became so
habitual, so entered into him. that his
mother ceased to notice it. and it be
came a second nature to himself. He
watched all mankind, .lest some one
among men should be seeking to take his
treasure from him. Mr. Cholderton's
Imp had not used her eyes in vain, but
Harry’s neighbors, content to call him
reserved, had no idea that there was
anything in particular that he had to
hide. There was one little point which,
except for his persuasion of his own rec
titude, might have seemed to indicate
an uneasy conscience, but was in fact
only evidence of a natural dislike to hav
ing an unwelcome subject thrust under
his notice. About a year after the dis
closure Lady Tristram had a letter from
Mr. Gainsborough. This gentleman had
married her cousin, and the cousin, a wo
man of severe principles, had put an
end to all acquaintance in consequence
of the Odyssey. S^e was dead, and her
husband proposed to renew friendly re
lations, saying that his daughter knew
nothing of the past differences, and was
anxious to see her kinsfolk. The letter
was almost gushing, and Lady Tris
tram. left to herself, would have an
swered it In the same kind; for while
she had pleased herself, she bore no re
sentment against folk who had blamed
her. Moreover. Gainsborough was poor,
and somebody had told her that the girl
was pleasant; she pitied poverty, and
liked being kind to pleasant people.
"Shall we invite them to stay for a
week or two?” she had asked.
"Never,” he said. "They shall never
come here. I don’t want to know them;
I won’t see them.” His face was hard,
angry and even outraged at the notion.
His mother said no more. If the bar
ony and Blent departed from Harry, on
Lady Tristram's death they would go
to Cecily Gainsborough. If Harry had
his way that girl should not even see his
darling Blent.
The sun had sunk behind the tower
and Lady Tristram sat in a low chair
by the river, enjoying the cool of the
evening.
Harry leaned his elbow on a great
stone vase which stood on a pedestal
and held a miniature wilderness of flow
ers.
"I lunched at Fairholme,” he was say
ing. "The paint's -all wet still, of course,
and the doors stick a bit, but I liked,
the family. He's genuine, she's homely,
and Janie's a good girl. They were very
civil.”
"I suppose so.”
"Not overwhelmed,” he added, as
though wishing to correct a wrong im
pression which yet might reasonably,
have arisen.
"I didn't mean that. I’ve met Mr. Iver
and he wasn’t at all overwhelmed. Mrs.
Iver was—out—when I called, and I was—
out—when she called.” Lady Tristram
was visibly, although not ostentatiously,
allowing for the prejudices of a moral
middle class.
"Young Bob Broadley was there—you
know who I mean? At Mlngham farm,
up above the pool.”
“I know—a handsome young man.”
"I forgot he was handsome. Of course
you know him, then. What a pity I'm
not handsome, mother!”
"O, you've the air, though,” .she con
tentedly observed. "Is he after Janie
Iver?”
"So I imagine. I’m not sure that I'm
not, too. Have I any chance against Bob
Broadley?”
She did not seem to take him seri
ously.
“They wouldn’t look at Mr. Broadley,”
(She was pleasantly punctitious about
all titles and courteous methods of refer
ence or address). "Janie Tver's a great
heiress.”
"And what about me?" he insisted, as
he lit his pipe and sat down opposite
her.
"You mean it, Harry?”
"There's no reason why I shouldn't
marry, is there?”
"Why, you must marry, of course.
But—”
“We can do the blue blood business
enough for both."
“Yes; I don’t mean that.”
“You mean—am I at all in love with
her?”
"No; not quite. O, my dear Harry, I
mean wouldn't you like to be in love a
little with somebody? You could do it
after you marry, of course, and you
certainly will if you marry now, but
it's not so—so comfortable. She looked
at him with a sort of pity; her feeling
was that he gave himself no holidays.
He sat silent a moment, seeming to
consider some picture which her sug
gestion conjured up.
"No good waiting for that,” was his
conclusion. "Somehow, if I married and
had children it would seem to make
everything more settled.” His great pre
occupation was on him again. "We could
do with some more money, too,” he add
ed, “and. as I say. I'm inclined to like
the girl.”
"What’s she like?”
"What you call a fine girl—tall—well
made—”
"She’ll be fat some day, I expect.”
"Straight features, broadish face, dark,
rather heavy brows—you know the sort
of thing.”
"O, Harry, I hate all that.”
"I don’t. I rather like it.” He was
smoking meditatively, and Jerked out
what he had to say between the puffs.
"I shouldn't like to mortgage Blent," he
went on a moment later.
“Mortgage Blent'.’ What for?”
He raised a hand to ask to be heard
out. “But I should like to feel that I
could at any moment lay my hand on a
big lump of ready money—say fifty or
even a hundred thousand pounds. I should
like to be able topull It out of my
breeches pocket and say, ‘Take that and
hold you tongue!' ” He looked at her to
see if she followed what was in his mind.
“I think they’d take it,” he ended. “I
mean if things got as far as that, you,
know.”
“You mean the Gainsboroughs?"
“Yes. O, anybody elso would be cheaper
than that. Fifty thousand would be bet
ter than a very doubtful case. But it
would have to be done directly—before
a word was heard about it. I should like
to live with the check by me.”
He spoke very simply, as another man
might speak of being reedy to meet an
Improvement rate or an application from
an impecunious brother.
“Don’t you think it would be a good
fcreciaution?” he asked. Whether he
meant the marriage, the check or the
lady was really immaterial. It came to
the same thing.
“It's all very troublesome,” Lady
• Tristram complained. “It really hair
spoils our lives, doesn’t it, Harry? One
always has to be worrying.”
The smile whose movements had ex
cited Mina Zabriska’s interest made its
appearance on Harry's face. He had
never been annoyed at his mother’s ex
ternal attitude toward the result of her
cwn doings, but he was often amusal
at it.
“Why do you smile?" she asked, inno
cently.
“Well, worrying's a mild term.” h e ex
plained. evasively. “It's my work in the
world, you know—or it seems as if it
was going to be.”
“You'd better think about it,” Lady
Tristram concluded, not wishing to think
about it any more herself. "You wouldn't
tell Mr. Iter anything about the diffi
culty, would you?” “The difficulty” had
become her usual way of referring to her
secret.
"Not a word. I'm not called upon to
justify my position to Iver.” No shadow
of doubt softened the clearness of Har-
ry'3 conviction on this point. He rose,
filled his pipe again, and began to walk
up and down; he was at his old game,
counting chances, ere by one, every
chance, trying to eliminate risks, one by
one, every risk, so that at last he might
take his ease and say without fear of
contradiction. “Here sits Tristram if
Blent.”
"Did you go up to the lodge. Harry?”
his mother called to him, as one of his
turns brought him near her.
"O. yes, I forgot to tell you. I did, and I
I found Mme. Zabriska having a look at
us from the terrace, so I had a little talk
with her. I didn’t see the uncle.”
“What’s she l!ke?i” This was a favor
ite question of Lady Tristram’s.
Harry paused a moment, looking for a
description.
“Well, if you can imagine one needle
with two very large eyes, you’d get some
idea of her. She’s sharp, mother—mind
and body. Pleasant enough, though.
She's coming to see you, so you needn't
bother to go up.” He added with an air
of impatience. "She's been hunting in
the peerage.”
"Of course she would; there's nothing
in that.”
“No, I suppose not,” he admitted al
most reluctantly.
“1 can't help thinking I’ve heard the
name before—not Zabriska, but the
uncle's.”
“Duplay, isn’t it? I never heard it.”
“Well, I can't remember anything
about it, but it sounds familiar. I'm
confusing It with something else, I sup
pose. They look like being endurable, do
they?”
“O. yes, as people go,” he answered,
resuming his walk.
If a determination to keep for yourself
what, according to your own conviction,
belongs by law to another makes a crim
inal ftitent—and that irrespective of the
merits of the law—it would be hard to
avoid classing Lady Tristram and her
son as criminals in contemplation, if not
yet in action. And so considered, they
afforded excellent specimens of two kinds
of criminials which a study of assize
courts .reveals, the criminal who drifts
and the criminal who plans; the former
usually termed by counsel and judge "un
happy," the latter more sternly dubbed
"dangerous.” Lady Tristram had always
drifted and was drifting still; Harry had
begun to plan at sixteen and still was
busy planning. One result of this differ
ence was that whereas she was hardly
touched or affected In character, he had
beeen immensely influenced. And she
had no adequate conception of what it
was to him. Even his scheme of marry
ing Janie Iver and his vivid little phrase
about living with the check by him, fail
ed to bring it hoifie to her. This very
evening, as soon as he was out of sight,
both he and his great question were out
of the mind of the woman who had
brought both him and it into existence.
So Lady Tristram went back to her
novel, and Harry walked by the river,
moodily meditating and busily scheming.
Meanwhile Mina Zabriska had flown to
the library at Merrion lodge, and. finding
books that had belonged to a legal mem
ber of the family in the days gone by,
was engaged in studying the law relating
to the succession to lands and titles in
England. She did not make quick prog
ress. Nevertheless, in a day or two she
had reached a point when she was bub
bling over with curiosity and excitement.
*
CHAPTER FOUR
Jhe Could an* She Would
In spite of Mrs. Iver’s secret opinion
that people with strange names were
likely to be strange themselves, an ac
quaintance was soon made between
Fairholme and Merrion lodge. Her fam
ily was against Mrs. Iver; her husband
was boundlessly hospitable. Janie was
very sociable. Mr. Iver began to teach
the major to play golf. Janie took Mina
Zabriska out driving in the highest dog
cart on the country side; they would go
along the road by the river and get out
perhaps for a wandfer by the pool, or even
drive higher up the valley and demand
tea from Bob Broadley at his pleasant
little place, half farm, half manor house,
at Mingham, three miles above the pool.
Matters moved so quick that Mina un
derstood in a week why Janie found It
pleasant to have a companion under
whose aegis she could drop in at Ming
ham; in a little more than a fortnight
she began to understand why her youth
ful uncle (the major was very young)
grunted unsympathetically when she ob
served that the road to Mingham was the
prettiest in the neighborhood. The Imp
was accumulating other people's secrets,
and was accordingly in a state of high,
satisfaction.
The situation developed fast; and for
the time at least Janie Iver was heroine
and held the center of the stage. A
chance of that state of comfort which
was his remaining and modest ambition
had opened before the major—and the pos
sibility of sharing it with a congenial
partner; the major wasted no time in
opening his campaign. Overtures from
Blent, more stately, but none the less
prompt, showed that Harry Tristram had
not spoken idly to his mother. And what
about Bob Broadley? He seemed to be
out of the running and indeed to have lit-,
tie inclination, or not enough courage, to
press forward. Mina was puzzled She
began to observe the currents In the Fair-
holme household. Iver was for Harry, she
thought, though he maintained a dignified
show of indifference; Mrs. Iver—the mi
raculous occurring in a fortnight as it
often does—was at least very much taken
with the major. Bob Broadley had no
friend, unless in Janie herself. And Janie
was Inscrutable, by virtue of an open
pleasure in the attention of all the gentle
men and an obvious disinclination to de
vote herself exclusively to any one of
them. She could not flirt with Harry
Tristram because he had no knowledge of
the art, tut she accepted his significant
civilities. She did flirt with the major,
who had many years’ experience of the
pastime. And she was so kind to Bob
Broadley, going to see him, as has been
said, sending him invitations, and seem
ing in some way to be fighting against
his own readiness to give up the battle
before it was well begun. But it is hard to
help a man who will dot help himself; on
th^; Qther hand it is paid to_be amusing
sometimes.
They all met at Fairholme one after
noon, Harry appearing unexpectedly as
the rest were at tea on the lawn. This
was his first meeting with the major. As
he greeted that gentleman, even more
when he shook hands with Bob, there was
a touch of regality in his manner; the re
serve was prominent, and his prerogative
was claimed; very soon he carried Janie
off for a solitary walk in the shrubberies.
Mina enjoyed her uncle's frown, enc^
chafed at Bob’s self effacement; he had
been talking to Janie when Harry calm
ly took her away. The pair were gone
half an hour, and conversation flagged.
They reappeared, Janie 'looking rather
excited, Harry almost insolently calm,
and sat down side by side. The major
walked across and took a vacant seat on
the other side of Janie. The slightest look
of surprise showed on Harry Tristram's
face. A duel began. Duplay had readi
ness, suavity, volubility, a trick of flat
tering deference; on Harry’s side were a
stronger suggestion of power, and an as
sumption, rather attractive, that he must
be listened to. Janie liked this air of his,
even while she resented it; here, in his
own country at least a Tristram of Blent
was somebody. Bob Broadley was listen
ing to Iver’s views on local affairs; he was
not in the fight at all, but he tvas covertly
watching it. The fortune of battle seem
ed to incline to Harry’s side; the major
was left out of the talk for minutes to
gether. More for fun than from loyalty
to her kinsman. Mina rose and walked
over to Harry.
"Do take me to see the greenhouses, Mr.
Tristram,” she begged. "You're all right
with uncle, aren’t you, Janie?”
Janie nodded rather nervously. After a
pause of a full half minute Harry Tris
tram rose without a word and began to
walk off; it was left for Mina to join him
in a hurried little run. "O wait for me,
anyhow,” she cried with a laugh.
They walked on some way in silence.
“You're not very conversational, Mr.
Tristram. I suppose you're angry with
me?”
He turned and looked at her; presently
he began to smile, even more slowly it
seemed, than usual.
“I must see that my poor uncle has
fair play—what do you call it?—a fair
show—musn’t I?”
"O, that’s what you meant, Madame
Zabriska? It wasn't the pleasure of my
company?”
"Do you know, I think you rather exag
gerate the pleasure—no, not the pleasure
—I mean the honor of your company?
You were looking as if you couldn’t un
derstand how anybody could want to talk
to uncle when you were there. But he's
better looking than you are and much
more amusing.”
"I don't set up for a beauty or a wit
either," Harry observed, not at ail put
out by the Imp's premeditated candor.
"No. and still she ought to want to
talk to you! Why? Because you're Mr.
Tristram. I suppose!” Mina indulged in
a very scornful demeanor.
"it 's very friendly of you to resent my
behavior on Miss Iver's behalf.”
"There you are again! That means she
doesn't resent it. T think you give your
self airs, Mr. Tristram, and I should
like—”
"To take me down a peg?” he asked,
in a tone of rather contemptuous amuse
ment.
She paused a minute and then nodded
significantly.
"Exactly, and to make you feel a little
uncomfortable, not quite so sure of,your-
self and everything about you.”
“Upon my word, I don't see how it’s to
be done.” He was openly chaffing her
now.
“O, I don't know that you're invulner
able," she sa,with a toss of her head.
Continued on East Pago