The Tysons (Mr. and Mrs. Nevill Tyson)

A thrill of guilty expectation used to go through the room when they were announced, and people watc

n Drayton Parva. She was tried by an invisible and incorruptible jury of ideas in Miss Bat

yson of Thorneytoft, and had come in for the property. Nobody cared much for old Tyson of Thorneytoft; he was not exactly-well, no matter, he was very respectable and he was dead, which entitled him to a l

t to take compassion on her shyness, she startled you with a sudden lapse into self-possession. I can see her now looking at Tyson over the frills on her shoulder, with her thin crooked little mouth smiling slightly. She might well look, for Nevill Tyson's appearance was remarkable. He might have been any age between twenty-five and forty; as a matter of fact he was thirty-six. England had made him florid and Anglo-Saxon, but the tropics had bleached his skin and dried his straw-colo

the face. It seemed that he had worked his way out to Bombay and back again. He had been reporter to half-a-dozen provincial papers. He had been tutor to Somebody's son at some place not specified. He had tried his hand at comic journalism in London and at cattle-driving in Texas, and had been half-way to glory as a captain of irregulars in the Soudanese war. No, nobody was more surprised than himself when that mystic old man left him Thorneytoft. He thought he had chucked c

ateur gentlemen retired from business to the suburbs. Here Sir Peter observed that talking of hobbies, old Mr. Tyson had a perfect-er-mani

ove dialogue. Miss Batchelor caught him doing it and turned to Tyson. "Captain Stanis

it, I assure you. He has the soul of a cabman. He me

ll for green fields a

as to say, "I am

became instantl

ens here; nothing ever will happ

elf in a bland parochial patriotism. I can feel it coming on alre

farmers. Nothing but good old Tory melodr

n Tory melodrama. I sha

rious scrutiniz

ing down the house-like Sam

immensely like to know," said he, "what you

te. "Well, I dabble a

lence. "Psychology is a large

n I've got hold of the first principles. It sounds dreadfully

for in that case you wo

omed to be rallied on her attainments

y n

haven't any

but her eyes were sm

s here. We are so dreadfully litera

g his rather promine

what you think a country gen

o hunt hard; to shoot stra

will perfo

cel, or a family vault you can sit in. But I detest these modern arrangements; I object to be stuck in a tight position between two boards, with my fee

d she had her own reasons for wishing him to make a good impression. But her hints had roused in him the instinct of antagonism, and he went

vill Tyson?" said Miss Batchelor, very softly

was his notion of the duty of a host, to rush in and change the subject just as it was getting exciting. The old

months," were Miss Batchelor's parting

e Stanistreet co

feet, Tyson. They tell me Miss

ted in Miss Batch

f Meriden Court-the richest l

Why doesn't som

hey say, is much t

yson laughed, a

had taken him up. But before they had time to ask each other to meet him, Mr. Nevill

his first

ney and character, to say nothing of an inviolable social reputation. But men like Tyson never do what they ought. Miss Batchelor was clever, and he hated clever women. So he married Molly Wilcox. Molly Wilcox w

w behind. However, though I daresay his introduction was a little informal and obscure, there was every reason for the intimacy that followed. The Wilcoxes were unpopular; so, by this time, was Tyson. In cultivating him Mrs. Wilcox felt that she was doing something particularly esoteric and rather daring. She had taken a line. She loved everything that was a little flagrant, a little out of the common, and a little dubious. To a lady with these tastes Tyson was a godsend; he more than satisfied her desire for magnificence and mystery. For economical reasons Mrs. Wilcox's body was compelled to live with Mr. Wilcox in a cottage in D

ox. She herself was impervious to argument, and owing to her rapt inconsequence it was generally difficult to t

re likely to be wild; but M

Do you know you are guilty of the fallacy known

The term suggested anything from a co

quired, deftly recovering her

Wilcox, dryly. When all argument failed he had sti

ptain Stanistreet was Mr. Nevill Tyson was not very far away. Moreover, she was glad that she had on her

g on as usual, when Tyson pulled him up with a jerk. "Hold hard.

e. As it was, he lost his balance at the critical moment, and it ruined his stroke. He looked at th

aid he, "how did

or may not have re

suggested that he expected adverse criticism

ot?" s

in chalking the end of his cue. His silence gave T

u any ob

le young for a fine old coun

ng able to take a joke at his own expense. Still it was not ex

n stand a frock-coat and topper-that's the test. I saw Morley, your big man, going into church yesterday, and he looked a

his score. If he had not been so absorbed in his game, he would have seen

abstruse question. But I've got the girl on my side, which is a point in my favor; I have the

unkind. It referred to a phase of Tyson's univers

bout Mrs.

Hathaway,"

she sufficiently

The twinkle was lost upon Stanistreet. He knew too much; and the awkward thing was t

iron will against another, and the battle was long. Mr. Wilcox had the advantage of position. He simply retreated into his library as into a fortified camp, intrenching himself behind a barricade of books, an

ic, but to the importunities of his lung-disease. Other causes may have cont

ath seemed to have made Mrs. Wilcox suddenly familiar with her incomprehensible husband. She was convinced that whatever he had tho

summed up the case thus: "Bad? I daresay he is. I'm not marrying him because he is good; I'm

for this sort of remark that helpe