‘Well,’ said my uncle, ‘that proves, at least, that, if you had anything to say, you might be able to say it; but I am afraid it proves nothing more.’
‘Nothing more, I admit. I only mentioned it to account for the notion.’
‘I quite understand you, my boy. Meantime, the best thing in any case will be Oxford. I will do what I can to make it an easier life for you than I found it.’
Having heard nothing of Charley Osborne since he left Mr Forest’s, I went one day, very soon after my return, to call on Mr Elder, partly in the hope of learning something about him. I found Mrs Elder unchanged, but could not help fancying a difference in Mr Elder’s behaviour, which, after finding I could draw nothing from him concerning Charley, I attributed to Mr Osborne’s evil report, and returned foiled and vexed. I told my uncle, with some circumstance, the whole story: explaining how, although unable to combat the doubts which occasioned Charley’s unhappiness, I had yet always hung to the side of believing.
‘You did right to do no more, my boy,’ said my uncle; ‘and it is clear you have been misunderstood—and ill-used besides. But every wrong will be set right some day.’
My aunt showed me now far more consideration—I do not say—than she had felt before. A curious kind of respect mingled with her kindness, which seemed a slighter form of the observance with which she constantly regarded my uncle.
My study was pretty hard and continuous. I had no tutor to direct me or take any of the responsibility off me.
I walked to the Hall one morning to see Mrs Wilson. She was kind, but more stiff even than before. From her I learned two things of interest. The first, which beyond measure delighted me, was, that Charley was at Oxford—had been there for a year. The second was that Clara was at school in London. Mrs Wilson shut her mouth very primly after answering my question concerning her; and I went no further in that direction. I took no trouble to ask her concerning the relationship of which Mr Coningham had spoken. I knew already from my uncle that it was a fact, but Mrs Wilson did not behave in such a manner as to render me inclined to broach the subject. If she wished it to remain a secret from me, she should be allowed to imagine it such.