"I hope he deserves their good opinion."
"I am sure he does, father."
Edgar was not sorry when the drive was at an end, for the doubtful way in which his father had spoken of his cousin had made him utterly miserable. He sometimes felt that he never would be happy again, for the sight of Roger was a constant reproach to him; and they might have been such good friends. He knew how true-hearted Roger was, and that he would scorn to act in any way that was not strictly honourable. What would his feelings be if he ever found out his uncle's suspicions of him? But he was not in the least likely to find it out. Edgar tried to obtain consolation in that thought, and then another would occur to his troubled mind. Supposing Roger discovered that the Calais Noble was lost, would he tell that his cousin had exhibited it at school? No, he had promised he would not, and he could be trusted to keep his word, at all costs.
Poor Edgar! He tried to think his guilty secret was safe with himself; but he was always in terror, lest by some unforeseen means it should be found out. The summer term, which should have passed so pleasantly, was completely spoilt for him; he had no heart to play cricket, but moped about the grounds at home on the weekly holiday, whilst it puzzled his mother why he did not care to join his school-fellows in their various pursuits. Why should her boy be different to others, she wondered? She was not unsociable herself, and she could not understand why Edgar should prefer to keep himself to himself. She had hoped he would have made friends at school.
[CHAPTER XVII]
IN VIEW OF A HOLIDAY
"WHAT a lot of letters you get, Cousin Becky!"
It was Polly who made this remark, one morning, as on taking her seat at the breakfast table she noticed several envelopes by Miss Trent's plate. It was very innocently said, not instigated by curiosity, and the little girl was quite unprepared for the look of confusion and the deepening colour with which it was greeted by Cousin Becky, who, however, merely replied that she had a large circle of correspondents.
"Attend to the business in hand, Polly, and eat your breakfast," said Mr. Trent, a trifle sharply. "You talk too much, my dear."
"That's what I am always telling her; she's a regular Poll parrot," laughed Roger, who, boy-like, was ever ready to tease his sister.