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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Well, I'll walk down with you," she said grudgingly. She came nearer to Cecily. "I wonder what you did!" she exclaimed, scanning her face. "I must find out what you did!" Iver came forward. "I must introduce myself to you, Miss Gainsborough. I live at Blentmouth, and my name is Iver." "Iver!" She looked at him curiously.
I've told you what he said." "He could take Blentmouth, you know. It's all very simple." "Well, I'm not sure that our friend Iver isn't keeping that for himself," smiled Southend. "Oh, he can be Lord Bricks and Putty," she suggested, laughing. "Blentmouth would do very well for Harry Tristram." "Well then, what's to be done?" asked Southend. "We must give him a hint, George."
Iver rose and held out his hand. "I must go," he said. "Fairholme, Blentmouth! I hope I shall have a letter from you soon, to tell us to look out for you." One of the unexpected likings that occur between people had happened. Each man felt it and recognized it in the other. They were alone in the room for the moment.
There were spinster ladies in small villas at Blentmouth who watched the illness and the courtship as keenly as though they were to succeed the sick Lady Tristram and to marry the new Lord. Yet a single garden-party in the year would represent pretty accurately their personal stake in the matter. If you live on crumbs, a good big crumb is not to be despised.
That was strange anyhow, when it was remembered how large a local figure the young man had cut when Neeld came first to Fairholme; it was stranger still in view of what must soon be. The announcement of the engagement seemed to assume to write Finis to Harry as a factor in Blentmouth society. In that point of view the moment chosen for it was full of an unconscious irony.
There was not much prospect of their talk affecting either the laws of England or the determination of Harry Tristram to any appreciable extent. But the proposal seemed to comfort Cecily; and the Imp rang the bell for tea. Coming back from this task, she gave Cecily a critical glance. "You'll look it anyhow," she concluded with a reluctant smile. Meanwhile Iver and Neeld drove back to Blentmouth.
He ran against Iver in the street; Iver was off to Fairholme by the afternoon train; Mr Neeld, he mentioned, was coming to stay with him for a couple of weeks on Friday. Even Southend whom Harry encountered in Whitehall, very hot and exhausted cursed London and talked of a run down to Iver's. Blentmouth, Fairholme, Iver's, Merrion they all meant Blent.
He was lonely, and nervous with the servants; the curios gave him small pleasure since he had not bought them, and, if he had, they would not have been cheap. For reasons before indicated, Blentmouth and the curiosity-shop there had become too dangerous. Besides, he had no money; Cecily had forgotten that detail in her hurried flight.
She turned round; Cecily still gazed in melancholy abstraction into the stream. Cecily, then, faced down the valley, Mina looked up it; and at the moment the moon showed a quarter of her face and illuminated a streak of the Fillingford road. The man was there. He was there again. The moonlight fell on his face. He smiled at Mina, pointed a hand toward Blentmouth, and smiled again.
Quite off his balance and forgetful of perils, he ordered the pony-chaise and had himself driven into Blentmouth. He felt that he must tell somebody, and borrow some conclusions he was not equal to making any of his own. He must carry the news. He deceived himself and did gross injustice to the neighborhood.
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