Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1896-07-16
"Mr. Lorraine, l have thought It al

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slider that have a great claim upon
you"
He simply raised his eyebrows, but
did not deny my assertion.
"You have kept me in ignorance for
years" continued, speaking quickly.
"You have brought me up, and let me
go out in the world under false colors.
Now just as | enter upon manhood you
tell me who am, or rather who am
not, Why you did this, you alone
know. You had some reason for It,.
In return, l have a right to demand
something"
Demand! All right! Never mind.
Go on"
I had expected an outburt Of rage,
His calm encouraged me.
Eyes, sir; | ask that | may be al
lowed to finish my course at Oxford.
Then, when l have taken my degree, l
will go and earn my own living as best
I can. l shall, of course, now call my
self by some other name. Can you sug-
gest one?"
Mr.. Lorraine laughed curious laugh.
Il like fellows who demand. better
than those who beg" he said. GO
back to college by all means. AS to
a name, is not Julian Lorraine good
enough for you? You are perfectly
welcome to use It,"
But 1t is not mine"
Never mind; use 1t. I choose that
you shall use ii so long as you are de-
pendent on me. / also choose you to
be thought my son. No"-he saw me
about to speak-"I will give no rea-
sons; perhaps l have none You may
be sure that 1t will be no hinderance to
your future, being thought a rich mans
son. Besides, hate changes. Now,
don't talk any more. You have de-
manded; l have acceded. Go away"
Puzzled and dissatisfied, left him.
l had fully persuaded myself that had
a right to claim what had claimed
from him. 1t was also not hard for
me to learn to think that If it was Mr..
Loraine's wish that should still pass
as his son and bear his name, 1t was
my duty to do so. Besides-remembe
/ was but boy, and so need not be
ashamed Of the truth-with all my as
sumed independence, the thought Of
proclaiming my humble and unknown
parentage to my friends was gall and
NORWOOD to me. To sink from the
position which I held as Mr.. Loraine's
son to that of no one at all was a
change greater than l could picture to
myself with equanimity. So 1 objected
no more; and as Mr., Lorraine sternly
forbade the subjects being reopened,
my life, in spite Of its clouded future,
went on in its accustomed groove.
Here, to avoid any misleading, may
say that all l ever learned about my
true parentage was what Mr.. Lorraine
told me. Who and what was my ill
fated mother, know no more than l
know for what reason my reputed
father allowed me to be brought up as
his son.
The terms and the vacations went by.
did not, during the latter, see a great
deal Of Mr. Lorraine; nor did he press
me to spend the time at Herstal Abbey
But a certain feeling, If not of graft
tude, Of what seemed right and proper,
induced me to stay there on several oc-
casions. There was really little APP
parent change in the relations between
Mr.. Lorraine and myself. What change
there might be was perhaps for the bet
ter was accepting his benefits, but
accepting them because l considered 1
had right to them. Moreover, I was
determined that, when the time came,
| would be quite independent of his
favor. endeayored now and again to
show him my feelings on this point;
and, in spite of the hooking smile with
which he received my hints, l do not
think he liked me the less. l am not
sure but in time a sincere friendship
might have sprung up between us; for,
whatever may have been Julian
Loraine's inner nature, when he chose
to meet any one on terms of equality
and companionship, he could make
himself one of the most charming men
in the world. His talk, although dan
gerous and bitter, was witty and brilli-
ant.
But time would not allow this in
cipient feeling to grow up. Just after
my twenty-first birthday l was sum-
moned in hot haste from Oxford. Mr..
Lorraine was dying.
reached Herstal Abbey just in time.
My benefactor-yes, must call him
so-was just sensible, but speechless.
l bent over him and took his hand. His
fingers gave mine faint pressure.
Even at that moment wondered at
this show of feeling. And l wondered
at the strange look in his dark eyes.
They met mine yearningly, and l knew
that the dying man had much to say to
me; yet, somehow, l knew it was not
about myself he wished to speak. l
stopped down close to him. His dry
lips moved, but could not articulate.
He gave faint sigh; his eyelids flicker
ed and all was over. Whatever were
those last words he wished to speak,
they remained forever unspoken.