Tristram of Blent | Page 8

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. "I use my father's name only as a
Christian name now. Tristram is my surname; that also, if I may repeat
myself, 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, in
spite of the failure of male heirs from time to time, the Tristrams of

Blent should always be Tristrams, you know, and not Fitzhuberts, or
Leighs, or Merrions----"
"Merrion?"
"My great-great--I forget how many greats--grandfather was a Merrion
and----"
"Built this house?"
"Oh, no--a house where this stands. The old house was burnt down in
'95."
"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 called 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--over-conscious.
"I'm glad it was run up in time for us to take it," she said, thinking she
would try the effect of a little chaff.
The effect was nothing; Harry Tristram took no notice of the remark.
"I see," he observed, "from your calling me Fitzhubert that you've been
looking up our recent history."
"Oh, just what there is in the 'Peerage.'" Her look was mischievous now,
but she restrained herself from any hint of special knowledge. "I'll tell
you as much of ours some day."
She broke into a laugh, and then, carried away by the beauty of the
scene, the river and the stately peaceful old house by it, she stretched
out her hands toward Blent Hall, exclaiming:

"But we haven't anything like that in our history!"
He turned to look with 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 tender. 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.
"I've no intention of losing it," he answered, laughing, but looking
again from her and toward his home. "We've had it six hundred years;
we shan't lose it now, I think."
"No, I suppose not." He was holding out his hand. "Good-by, Mr
Tristram. May 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 her offer as he shook hands.
"You see the foot-bridge over the river there? There's a gate at each end,
but 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 go a quarter of a
mile higher up, just below the Pool. Good-by, Madame Zabriska."
Mina watched him all the way down the hill. He had made an
impression on her--an intellectual impression, not a sentimental one.
There was nothing of the boy about him, unless it were in that little
flourish over the antiquity of his house and its surroundings; even that
might be the usual thing--she had not seen enough of his class to judge.

There was too that love of the place which he had shown. Lastly, there
was the odd air of wariness and watching; such it seemed to her, and it
consented to seem nothing else.
"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
Cholderton'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?"

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