The Talisman Ring

“I remember now,” said Eustacie. “You do not like women.”

Sir Tristram, uncomfortably aware of the footman behind his chair, cast a glance at his cousin’s empty plate, and got up. “Let us go into the drawing-room,” he said. “This is hardly the place to discuss such—er—intimate matters!”

Eustacie, who seemed to regard the servants as so many pieces of furniture, looked round in a puzzled way, but made no objection to leaving the dining-table. She accompanied Sir Tristram to the drawing-room, and said, almost before he had shut the door: “Tell me, do you mind very much that you are to marry me?”

He answered in an annoyed voice: “My dear cousin, I do not know who told you that I dislike women, but it is a gross exaggeration.”

“Yes, but do you mind?”

“I should not be here if I minded.”

“Truly? But everybody has to do what Grandpиre tells them.”

“Not quite everybody,” said Shield. “Sylvester knows, however, that—”

“You should not call your great-uncle Sylvester!” interrupted Eustacie. “It is not at all respectful.”

“My good child, the whole world has called him Sylvester for the past forty years!”

“Oh!” said Eustacie doubtfully. She sat down on a sofa upholstered in blue-and-gold-striped satin, folded her hands, and looked expectantly at her suitor.

He found this wide, innocent gaze a trifle disconcerting, but after a moment he said with a gleam of amusement: “There is an awkwardness in this situation, cousin, which I, alas, do not seem to be the man to overcome. You must forgive me if I appear to you to be lacking in sensibility. Sylvester has arranged a marriage of convenience for us, and allowed neither of us time to become in the least degree acquainted before we go to the altar.”

“In France,” replied Eustacie, “one is not acquainted with one’s betrothed, because it is not permitted that one should converse with him alone until one is married.”

This remark certainly seemed to bear out Sylvester’s assurance that his granddaughter understood the nature of his arrangements. Sir Tristram said: “It would be absurd to pretend that either of us can feel for the other any of those passions which are ordinarily to be looked for in betrothed couples, but—”

“Oh yes, it would!” agreed Eustacie heartily.

“Nevertheless,” pursued Sir Tristram, “I believe such marriages as ours often prosper. You have accused me of disliking females, but believe me—”

“I can see very well that you dislike females,” interrupted Eustacie. “I ask myself why it is that you wish to be married.”

He hesitated, and then answered bluntly: “Perhaps if I had a brother I should not wish it, but I am the last of my name, and I must not let it die with me. I shall count myself fortunate if you will consent to be my wife, and so far as it may lie in my power I will promise that you shall not have cause to regret it. May I tell Sylvester that we have agreed to join hands?”

“Qu’importe? It is his command, and naturally he knows we shall be married. Do you think we shall be happy?”

“I hope so, cousin.”

“Yes, but I must tell you that you are not at all the sort of man I thought I should marry. It is very disheartening. I thought that in England one was permitted to fall in love and marry of one’s own choice. Now I see that it is just the same as it is in France.”

He said with a touch of compassion: “You are certainly very young to be married, but when Sylvester dies you will be alone, and your situation would be awkward indeed.”

“That is quite true,” nodded Eustacie. “I have considered it well. And I dare say it will not be so very bad, our marriage, if I can have a house in town, and perhaps a lover.”

“Perhaps a what?” demanded Shield, in a voice that made her jump.

“Well, in France it is quite comme il faut—in fact, quite а la mode—to have a lover when one is married,” she explained, not in the least abashed.

“In England,” said Sir Tristram, “it is neither comme il faut nor а la mode.”

“Vraiment, I do not yet know what is the fashion in England, but naturally if you assure me it is not а la mode, I won’t have any lover. Can I have a house in town?”

“I don’t think you know what you are talking about,” said Sir Tristram, on a note of relief. “My home is in Berkshire, and I hope you will grow to like it as I do, but I can hire a house in town for the season if your heart is set on it.”

Eustacie was just about to inform him that her heart was irrevocably set on it when the butler opened the door and announced the arrival of Mr Lavenham. Eustacie broke off in mid-sentence, and said under her breath: “Well, I would much rather be married to you than to him, at all events!”

Her expression did not lead Sir Tristram to set undue store by this handsome admission. He frowned reprovingly at her, and went forward to greet his cousin.