She looked at Mr. Eversleigh with a searching glance—a glance which was often repeated, as he stood for a few minutes talking to her. Nothing which interested her son was without interest for her; and she knew that this young man was his chief friend and companion.
Reginald Eversleigh went back to town in much better spirits than when he had left the West-end that morning. He lost no time in writing the letter suggested by his friend, and, as he was gifted with considerable powers of persuasion, the letter was a good one.
"I believe Carrington is right," he thought, as he sealed it: "and this letter will bring about a reconciliation. It will reach my uncle at a time when he will be intoxicated with his new position as the husband of a young and lovely bride; and he will be inclined to think kindly of me, and of all the world. Yes—the letter is decidedly a fine stroke of diplomacy."
Reginald Eversleigh awaited a reply to his epistle with feverish impatience; but an impatience mingled with hope.
His hopes did not deceive him. The reply came by return of post, and was even more favourable than his most sanguine expectations had led him to anticipate.
"Dear Reginald," wrote the baronet, "your generous and disinterested letter has touched me to the heart. Let the past be forgotten and forgiven. I do not doubt that you have suffered, as all men must suffer, from the evil deeds of their youth.
"You were no doubt surprised to receive the tidings of my marriage. I have consulted my heart alone in the choice which I have made, and I venture to hope that choice will secure the happiness of my future existence. I am spending the first weeks of my married life amidst the lovely solitudes of North Wales. On the 24th of this month, Lady Eversleigh and I go to Raynham, where we shall be glad to see you immediately on our arrival. Come to us, my dear boy; come to me, as if this unhappy estrangement had never arisen, and we will discuss your future together.—Your affectionate uncle, OSWALD EVERSLEIGH." "Royal Hotel, Bannerdoon, N. W."
Nothing could be more satisfactory than this epistle. Reginald Eversleigh and Victor Carrington dined together that evening, and the baronet's letter was freely discussed between them.
"The ground lies all clear before you now," said the surgeon: "you will go to Raynham, make yourself as agreeable as possible to the bride, win your uncle's heart by an appearance of extreme remorse for the past, and most complete disinterestedness for the future, and leave all the rest to me."
"But how the deuce can you help me at Raynham?"