A Barren Title: A Novel

by T. W. Speight

Then again, provided he made up his mind to go on with his matrimonial scheme, it would hardly do for either Miss Tebbuts or her friends to be made aware of the existence of Clement. Were that fact to come to their ears, the twenty thousand pounds might not so readily drop into his hands. After the marriage it would not matter how soon he introduced his son to them. They might then digest their disappointment as they best could. Their feelings in the matter would be nothing to him.

His frequent conversations with money-making Mr. Wingfield tended more than anything else to direct his thoughts into the channel of matrimony. "With five thousand to start with, you ought to be worth fifty thousand at the end of five years," was one of the several maxims with which Mr. Wingfield was in the habit of making our impecunious peer's mouth water. As a sort of corollary to the doctrine he was in the habit of preaching, the merchant on one occasion lent the earl three hundred pounds in order that the latter might participate, to an infinitesimal extent, in one of the many "good things" that seemed as plentiful as blackberries in those halcyon days of unlimited confidence. At the end of two months the earl sold out, by the advice of his friend, realizing thereby, on his original investment of three hundred pounds, a clear profit of as much more. It was no wonder that the earl began to court his City friends more and more, and that he came to find his most interesting reading in the money articles of his favorite newspaper.

One grain of justice we must do him. In all his dreams of wealth and prosperity to come he had Clement's future at heart almost as much as his own. It should not be his fault if Clement did not come into fortune as well as title. In so far he was unselfish, and no farther. If only Clem would supplement his father's efforts by making a rich marriage, then would all be well. The earldom of Loughton, in the hands of the junior branch of the family, might ultimately shine with a lustre equal to that which had emanated from it in days gone by.

It was during the time these thoughts were fermenting in his mind that the earl was surprised by a visit from Miss Collumpton and Mr. Slingsby Boscombe. They had been summoned to Ringwood by the countess, who was anxious to see for herself how matters were progressing with the two young people. When the present detestable individual who held the title should die--and surely Providence would be considerate enough to remove him before long--then Slingsby would be Earl of Loughton, and, what with his own fortune and that of Cecilia, he would be in a position to make a very respectable figure as a nobleman. The marriage of these two was the last pet scheme of the dowager's life, but we know already what small likelihood there was of its fulfilment. Cecilia and Slingsby, knowing for what purpose they had been summoned to Ringwood, agreed between themselves, before their interview with the countess, what each of them should say.

Keen-sighted as the old lady usually was, they contrived to hoodwink her most effectually. They walked and talked and sat together, and seemed full of private confidences with each other. When the countess spoke about Slingsby to Cecilia, the latter said, with a smile, "Yes, we are very good friends, are we not? I always did like Slingsby."

"But it's a question of something more than liking. You know what I mean?"

"Quite well, aunt."

"You know how I have set my heart on this matter. I hope you are not going to disappoint me."

"As I said before, aunt, Slingsby and I are the best of friends. We understand each other thoroughly; is not that enough?"

"I suppose I must make it so. But young people nowadays do their courting so frigidly that one can never tell when they are in earnest and when they are not."