The Tysons (Mr. and Mrs. Nevill Tyson)

us old barrack stared with all the uncompromising truculence of bare white stone on nature that smiled agreeably round it in lawn and underwood. Old Tyson had bou

lected in a hundred twinkling, dangling lusters; and you came upon lions rampant in a wilderness of wax-flowers. What with antique heraldry and utilitarian furniture, you would

ch of sorrow; but from certain things-food, clothes, furniture-she seemed to catch, as it were, the sense of tears, suggestions of the human tragedy. She was peculiarly sensitive to interiors, and a drawing-room "without any of the little refinements and luxuries, you know-not so much as a flower-pot or a basket-table"-weighed heavily on her happy soul. Needless to say she had never dreamed that Nevill would let the house remain in its present state; her intellect could never have grasped so melancholy a possibility, and the fact was somewhat unsettling to her faith in Nevill Tyson. "Isn't it-for a young bride, you know-just a lit

uld like to know?), or else, surely she would have had some little regard for appearances; she would never have risked being caught at four o'clock in the afternoon sitting on Tyson's knee, doing all sorts of absurd things to his face. First, she stroked his hair straight down over his forehead, which had a s

like a curtain. "How could I marry a man with a tooth like that! Do you know, p

orc

was Phorc-y-as?" Mrs. Nevill T

topheles." (Tyson knew his Go

d straight while she stared into his eyes. "Look me straight in the face now. No blinking. Are you the devil, I wonder?" She put he

ough for his little girl, a

e. He said we were admirably suited to each other. That w

And how many mo

sleeve and showed him a little livid mark running across the back of her hand. "Did I ever tell you what that meant? It means tha

e been rather gone

ers." Mrs. Nevill Tyson looked at the tips of her

oesn't count

did anything. Nevill, what

y. Nothing to deser

ere was something, and he wouldn't tell m

ably

sins to you." Mrs. Nevill Tyson was persistent, not because she i

poet, I daresay, who was dead enough and dull enough; but when a real live Englishman walked into his study, it seemed to put him out somehow. He didn'

elor says about you? She told mother that it was a pity you hadn't any profession-every man ought to have a profession-keep you out of mischief. I wasn't going to have her talking like that about my husband-th

now you mustn't tell stories, you little minx. M

arrister, and everybody knows that barristers

ntion of being a barrister. How

t all along.

have been

ry. I wasn't listening, you know. I-I heard your name, and I couldn't help it. He said he expected

down from his knee as

n't tell Miss B

id though

te of himself. "

d-over her shoulder

saying that sort of thing. People here

ha

lf the people we meet are sinners, the other half are fools. I never knew any one yet who

here he stood; and now she was rubbing his sleeve w

oked h

n't do it agai

me one thing. Were you ever

r engaged to an

ve with ten gentlemen at o

entrance of Sir Peter Morley,