The American Claimant | Page 2

Conqueror his very self; the mother of it was
not inventoried in history by name, she being merely a random episode
and inconsequential, like the tanner's daughter of Falaise.
In a breakfast room of the castle on this breezy fine morning there are
two persons and the cooling remains of a deserted meal. One of these
persons is the old lord, tall, erect, square-shouldered, white-haired,
stern-browed, a man who shows character in every feature, attitude, and
movement, and carries his seventy years as easily as most men carry
fifty. The other person is his only son and heir, a dreamy-eyed young
fellow, who looks about twenty-six but is nearer thirty. Candor,
kindliness, honesty, sincerity, simplicity, modesty--it is easy to see that
these are cardinal traits of his character; and so when you have clothed
him in the formidable components of his name, you somehow seem to
be contemplating a lamb in armor: his name and style being the
Honourable Kirkcudbright Llanover Marjorihanks Sellers
Viscount-Berkeley, of Cholmondeley Castle, Warwickshire.
(Pronounced K'koobry Thlanover Marshbanks Sellers Vycount Barkly,
of Chumly Castle, Warrikshr.) He is standing by a great window, in an
attitude suggestive of respectful attention to what his father is saying
and equally respectful dissent from the positions and arguments offered.
The father walks the floor as he talks, and his talk shows that his
temper is away up toward summer heat.
"Soft-spirited as you are, Berkeley, I am quite aware that when you
have once made up your mind to do a thing which your ideas of honor
and justice require you to do, argument and reason are (for the time
being,) wasted upon you--yes, and ridicule; persuasion, supplication,
and command as well. To my mind--"
"Father, if you will look at it without prejudice, without passion, you
must concede that I am not doing a rash thing, a thoughtless, wilful
thing, with nothing substantial behind it to justify it. I did not create the
American claimant to the earldom of Rossmore; I did not hunt for him,
did not find him, did not obtrude him upon your notice. He found
himself, he injected himself into our lives--"
"And has made mine a purgatory for ten years with his tiresome letters,
his wordy reasonings, his acres of tedious evidence,--"
"Which you would never read, would never consent to read. Yet in
common fairness he was entitled to a hearing. That hearing would

either prove he was the rightful earl--in which case our course would be
plain--or it would prove that he wasn't--in which case our course would
be equally plain. I have read his evidences, my lord. I have conned
them well, studied them patiently and thoroughly. The chain seems to
be complete, no important link wanting. I believe he is the rightful
earl."
"And I a usurper--a--nameless pauper, a tramp! Consider what you are
saying, sir."
"Father, if he is the rightful earl, would you, could you--that fact being
established--consent to keep his titles and his properties from him a day,
an hour, a minute?"
"You are talking nonsense--nonsense--lurid idiotcy! Now, listen to me.
I will make a confession--if you wish to call it by that name. I did not
read those evidences because I had no occasion to--I was made familiar
with them in the time of this claimant's father and of my own father
forty years ago. This fellow's predecessors have kept mine more or less
familiar with them for close upon a hundred and fifty years. The truth is,
the rightful heir did go to America, with the Fairfax heir or about the
same time--but disappeared--somewhere in the wilds of Virginia, got
married, end began to breed savages for the Claimant market; wrote no
letters home; was supposed to be dead; his younger brother softly took
possession; presently the American did die, and straightway his eldest
product put in his claim--by letter--letter still in existence--and died
before the uncle in-possession found time--or maybe inclination--to--
answer. The infant son of that eldest product grew up--long interval,
you see--and he took to writing letters and furnishing evidences. Well,
successor after successor has done the same, down to the present idiot.
It was a succession of paupers; not one of them was ever able to pay his
passage to England or institute suit. The Fairfaxes kept their lordship
alive, and so they have never lost it to this day, although they live in
Maryland; their friend lost his by his own neglect. You perceive now,
that the facts in this case bring us to precisely this result: morally the
American tramp is rightful earl of Rossmore; legally he has no more
right than his dog. There now--are you satisfied?"
There was a pause, then the son glanced at the crest carved in the great
oaken mantel and said, with a regretful