A Barren Title: A Novel

by T. W. Speight

Mr. Flicker rose from his chair, and, with his hands resting on the table, stared across at the audacious being sitting opposite to him. His mouth opened and then shut. Finding no language forcible enough to express a tithe of what he felt, he sat down again without speaking, and blew his nose. It was a protest more eloquent than words.

"Your ladyship always had a reputation for speaking your mind. I find that the old habit still clings to you," said Mr. Fildew, quietly, as he toyed carelessly with a paper-knife.

"You are nothing but a charlatan, sir, and my servants shall turn you out of doors." Her ladyship laid a finger on the tiny silver gong at her elbow, but Mr. Fildew's next words arrested the movement.

"I remember on one occasion when I was at Ringwood," he said, "and I could not have been more than eight or nine years old at the time, what a scrape Cousin Charley and I got into through bird-nesting in the woods when we ought to have been learning our lessons. We were stealing in through the back entrance, as black as two sweeps, when your ladyship caught us. What a setting down you gave us, to be sure! Charley being Earl of Loughton--he came into the title, you know, when he was seven years old--was simply scolded and forgiven, while I, being merely cousin to the Earl of Loughton, and nobody in particular, was not only scolded but sent with your ladyship's compliments to Mr. Pembroke, the tutor, and would he please cane me enough for two. The sight of you again, madam, brought this little reminiscence quite freshly to my mind."

Snarling till she showed the whole of her false teeth, and shaking a withered finger at Mr. Fildew, the countess said, "I repeat, sir, that you are nothing but a charlatan. Don't for one moment imagine that you can bamboozle me with any made-up tales about Ringwood, and what happened there thirty or forty years ago. Any fool could work up evidence of that kind."

"There used to be a good deal of company at the old place in those days," resumed Mr. Fildew, without heeding her ladyship's outburst in the least. "Where are the old faces by this time, I wonder? Scattered to the four quarters of the globe, I suppose, such of them as are still alive. Does your ladyship remember Captain Bristow? I wonder whether he is still among the living."

It was strange to see the hot color mount to her ladyship's forehead. She blushed like any girl of eighteen. Then she took up her fan. "Mr. Flicker," she said, "will you oblige me by opening that window a couple of inches? I feel a little faint. Thank you. And now, sir," turning to Mr. Fildew, "pray what do you know about Captain Bristow?"

"I have some very pleasant reminiscences in connection with the handsome captain. For one thing, he always tipped me liberally when he came to Ringwood. One day I happened to be the unseen witness of a little comedietta in which your ladyship and the captain enacted the chief--indeed, I may say, the only characters. I had been to the library to fetch a book for Mr. Pembroke, when, happening to hear voices in the blue boudoir, which, as you may remember, madam, is the room next the library, and perceiving that the door was ajar, I peeped in and saw--now, what does your ladyship think that I saw?"

The countess coughed, and Mr. Flicker, in obedience to an almost imperceptible sign, rose softly from his chair and walked away to the farthest window, humming under his breath.

"I saw," resumed Mr. Fildew, with hardly a break, "the captain on his knees before your ladyship--the earl had been dead at that time about two years--I saw him kiss your hand, and I saw that you, madam, did not repulse him. I was not near enough to hear the words which passed between you, but presently I saw the captain take a ring out of his waistcoat pocket and slip it on to your ladyship's finger. Then there came a knock at the other door, and the captain had barely time to rise before in came a servant with a letter for him. It was a message to say that his father was dying. He left Ringwood that night, and never, so far as I know, entered its doors again. But I notice that your ladyship still wears the ring which Captain Bristow slipped on your finger that sunny afternoon. That is the one on the third finger of your right hand."