A Barren Title: A Novel

by T. W. Speight

"Of course there were a few words with it. He said he felt sure that out of my small income it was impossible for me to have saved more than a trifle, and, as I had no parents, to fall back upon, would I make him happy by accepting the enclosure to buy my wedding dress with. What a dear fellow he is! I hope to be able to keep that note unchanged as long as I live. Perhaps you think I ought not to have accepted it?"

"I hardly know what to think," answered Miss Browne. "Certainly, to accept money, even from the gentleman to whom one is engaged, seems--"

"Very shocking, does it not, to us, with our petty conventional notions? If the money were offered in the shape of a bracelet, that would make all the difference. But here am I, a poor girl about to be married, who cannot afford to buy her wedding-gown. My sweetheart offers me money to buy it with. Am I to be so nonsensical, so stuffed up with silly pride, as to refuse his offer, and say, 'If you can't marry me in my old dress, you sha'n't marry me at all'? I think I have acted as a sensible girl would act under such circumstances. Anyhow, I mean to keep that note."

[CHAPTER XVI.]

PALLIDA MORS.

As Lord Loughton became more familiarized with his fresh mode of life, and as the novelty which waits upon all things new gradually wore itself away, there came times and seasons when he was at a loss how to get through the day with that degree of satisfaction to himself which, as an elderly man of the world, he thought he had a right to expect. He found the morning hours--say, from ten till four--hang the most heavily on his hands. Some men would have stayed in bed till noon, have lounged over breakfast till two o'clock, and have made their cigar and newspaper last them well on into the afternoon. But the earl had never been used to lying late in bed, and he felt no inclination to begin the practice now. Besides which, that ever-increasing tendency to corpulence had to be fought against in various ways. His medical adviser told him that, in addition to the riding exercise which he took, he ought to take more exercise on foot. But the earl detested walking along the dull country roads. To have them, and them alone, to ride and drive on was bad enough, while everybody else was enjoying the delights of town, but to be condemned to trudge along them on foot, as though he were a pedlar or a tramp, was more than he was prepared to endure. He would have given much to be able to go up to London for a few weeks during the season, and take up that position in society to which his rank entitled him. But he durst not venture on a step so hazardous. Too many people in London knew him as Mr. Fildew to allow of its being safe for him to appear there as Lord Loughton. Perhaps one of the first people whom he might chance to meet in the Row or in Piccadilly would be his own son. He knew well that if the faintest suspicion of his having a son, or even of his being married, were to reach the ears of the dowager countess, he might say farewell forever to his twelve hundred a year. Evidently the game was not worth the candle. Evidently the risk he would run by such a step was far too great to be rashly incurred. His periodical journeys to London to see his wife were another thing. They could be made without much risk of discovery. He arrived at dusk and departed at dusk, and hardly stirred out of doors during his stay.

The earl was not a reading man. Sometimes on a Sunday he would skim through a few pages of Blackwood or The Quarterly (they were good, old-fashioned periodicals to have lying about when anybody called), till drowsiness crept over him, and the thread of what he had been reading became entangled in the webs of sleep. But on weekdays he rarely read anything except the Times. Of that he was a diligent student, his maxim being that a man may pick enough out of his newspaper to enable him to hold his own in almost any company. Most people said, "What a well-informed man the Earl of Loughton seems to be." It was simply that he had the knack of presenting other people's ideas from his own point of view, and thereby giving them a gloss of originality which only one person here or there was clever enough to see through. But he seldom originated ideas of his own.

But even when the Times had been conscientiously waded through, several hours were still left before dinner. He could not go out every day riding on Mr. Larkins's hack, or driving about the country with Miss Tebbuts and the young ladies. The attractions of Brimley were of a very limited character, and the nearest town of any consequence was a dozen miles away. Now and then there was a flower-show, or a picnic, or an archery meeting, to break the monotony of country life but such excitements were few and far between. Sometimes the earl, in dressing-gown and smoking-cap, would potter about his garden for an hour or two, and simulate an interest he was far from feeling in the prospects of his wall-fruit or the progress of his marrowfats. Oh, for the glories of Piccadilly or Regent Street, on a warm spring afternoon! The life, the brightness, the gay shops, the well-watered streets, the sunny pavement, the ever-changing panorama--with a sovereign in one's pocket, and no social obligations to deter one from slaking one's thirst as often as one might feel inclined to do so!

When once the time to dress for dinner was reached the earl was himself again. He rarely dined at home more than once or twice a week. When such a contingency did happen, he generally walked into the town, and found his way in the course of the evening to the billiard-room at the George. It was a private subscription table, but his lordship was always made welcome. It was not every day that the small gentry of Brimley had the privilege of playing billiards with an earl, and such opportunities were made the most of. Indeed, they never thought of begrudging their half-crowns, of which his lordship generally took half a pocketful back home with him, for he was rather a fine player when he chose to put forth his strength, and none of the Brimley amateurs were a match for him.

Still, life at Laurel Cottage sometimes grew rather monotonous, as, indeed, it well might do to a man who had been a confirmed flâneur for years. Often of a night the earl longed for the jolly company of the Brown Bear. As a rule the Brimley magnates were intensely sedate and decorous, whereas the earl had Bohemian proclivities which not even the gray hairs of middle life had power to eradicate. A jorum of toddy and a long pipe, with a congenial companion, had far more attractions for him than the Clicquot and hot-house fruit of smug-faced respectability. Alas! in all Brimley he could find no companion who would say Bo to his goose--no one who would forget that there were such people as earls, who, if needs were, would contradict him to his face, and to whom such phrases as "Yes, my lord," and "No, my lord," were absolutely unknown.