A Barren Title: A Novel

by T. W. Speight

One morning, while Lord Loughton was dawdling over his breakfast, a brougham drove up to Laurel Cottage, from which three gentlemen alighted. Only one of the three proved to be known to the earl. He was a certain Mr. Wingfield, a retired merchant of ample means, whom he had met once or twice at dinner. Mr. Wingfield, after introducing his two companions, proceeded to state the object of his visit, which was neither more nor less than to solicit his lordship to become chairman of the new line of railway between Brimley and Highcliffe. The line was near completion, and the opening was to take place some time in July. "Our late chairman died last week," said Mr. Wingfield, "and we want a good name to fill up the vacancy."

"But I know nothing whatever about rail management," urged the earl.

"That's of no consequence whatever," answered Mr. Wingfield. "We understand it, and I am the vice-chairman, so that your lordship will be well supported. At present we meet for two hours twice a week. After each meeting we have luncheon. The chairman's honorarium, as fixed at present, is two hundred guineas a year."

"But before accepting such a position would it not be requisite that I should qualify myself by holding a certain number of shares in the company?"

"If your lordship will leave that little matter to me and my colleagues, we will take steps to have you duly qualified."

"In that case you may make use of my name in any way you think proper."

The earl took to his new duties con amore. His two visits per week to the Brimley board-room enabled him to get through a couple of mornings very pleasantly without interfering with the after-part of the day. Then the luncheon with which each meeting broke up was by no means to be despised. More than all, the check for a hundred guineas, which was to come to him every half-year, would form a very welcome addition to his limited income.

His position as chairman of the railway board brought Lord Loughton into contact with a number of well-to-do people, connected more or less with trade, who thought it a great thing to be hand-and-glove with an earl. His lordship was always affable to men who gave good dinners, and the consequence was that he was now less at home than ever. Mr. Wingfield had a brother in the City who was well known as a promoter and launcher of new companies. Before long an offer was made to the earl to become chairman to two new schemes that were on the eve of being floated. The duties were light--to meet the board twice a month for a couple of hours--the honorarium liberal, and the liability in case of disaster next to nothing. The earl closed with the offer at once. It is true that his visits to the City would involve a certain degree of risk, but he was quite prepared to face it. Even if some old acquaintances should chance to meet him as he was being whirled past them in a cab, it did not of necessity follow that they should know him as any other than Mr. Fildew. And then, as Wingfield had assured him more than once, his connection with the City was sure to bring under his notice some of the "good things" that were always going about on the quiet, to participate in which the leverage of a little capital was all that was needed. That capital he was determined by hook or by crook to obtain. Old as he was, there was still time for him to lay the foundation of an ample fortune before he died. Clem should be no pauper peer, dependent on the bounty of relatives for his daily bread.

These golden dreams were interrupted for a time by the news of his wife's serious illness, and the necessity for his immediate presence in London. The letter conveying the news had been lying for three days at the Shallowford post-office when he called there. He hurried off at once, but when he reached Soho be found that had he stayed away another day he would probably have been too late.

"Why, Kitty, my dear, what is this?" he said, as he stooped over the bed and kissed his wife's white face. There was a tremor in his voice that sounded as strange to himself as it could possibly have done to any one else. Now that the end was so near, old chords, the existence of which he had forgotten, began to vibrate again in his heart; countless memories burst through the crust of years, and bloomed again for a little while with the fragrance of long ago. Now that his treasure was about to be taken from him he began to realize its value as he had never realized it before.