A Barren Title: A Novel

by T. W. Speight

"This means, John, dear, that my summons to go has come at last--the summons I have waited for, oh! so wearily." She pressed his hand to her lips and then nestled it softly against her cheek.

"It's these confounded east winds," said the earl, huskily. "They are enough to lay anybody by the heels. When the warm weather sets in you'll soon be all right again."

"Not in this world, darling. Perhaps in the next. I began to be afraid that you would not be here in time for me to see you," she added, presently. "It would have seemed very hard to die and you not by my side."

"I came as soon as the letter reached me. I--I had been from home, and the letter was waiting for me on my return."

"I knew that you would come, dear, as soon as possible, and now that you are here I am quite happy. I told Moggy to put a steak on the fire the moment she heard you knock. I am sure you must be hungry after your long journey."

Later on in the evening, when they were alone, the sick woman said to her husband--and by this time her voice was very weak and uncertain--"I have been thinking a great deal about our wedding-day this afternoon. Why, I cannot tell. When I was lying half asleep just now, every little incident came back to me as freshly as though they only dated from yesterday, even to the smell of the musk-roses on the breakfast-table. And then I remembered something that I have hardly thought of for years. I remembered that your name is not John Fildew, but John Marmaduke Lorrimore. You told me never to mention that name to any one, and I never have--not even to Clement. You told me never to ask you any questions about it, and I never have. But you told me also that some day, and of your own accord, you would reveal to me the reasons that had compelled you to change your name. A woman's curiosity is one of the last things to leave her. It is not too late, dear, to tell me now."

The earl mused for a moment. The doctor had told him that it was quite impossible for his wife to live, consequently no valid reason existed why he should not tell her everything. "I changed my name," he said, "because when I was young and foolish I did something that disgraced both my friends and myself. Not a crime, mind you; in fact, nothing more heinous than incurring debts of honor which I was totally unable to meet. That was bad enough in all conscience, but I was young and sensitive in those days, and probably felt things more keenly than I should now. Anyhow, I thought that in a new country, and under a new name, I could bury the past, and perhaps do wonders in the future. Then I met you, dear, and you know the rest. Only I have never done the wonders I intended to do."

"You have been the best and dearest husband in the world." The earl winced, and shook his head in mild dissent. "But what a pity that after all these years you are not able to resume your own proper name and station in the world."

"I hope to be able to do so before long. Death has made strange havoc among the Lorrimores of late years, and your husband is now the head of the family."

"I have always said that you were a gentleman bred and born."