Of Cyril Oscar saw almost nothing for a whole week. He went off to London, with the excuse of his law studies, and did not return till the talk about the lost money had pretty well blown over.
Oscar begged his uncle to take the forty pounds from his own small fortune, held in trust till his majority, now quickly approaching, but he had only received an ambiguous reply to his request. His aunt continued to treat him kindly, but he could feel the difference in her manner, and Raby was rather inclined to ignore him altogether.
“It is so very disagreeable to have to talk about one’s family,” she said. “Of course everybody knows something unpleasant has happened, and I have had to tell the Bensons all about it. Lionel thinks Oscar had much better be shipped off to the Colonies; I almost wish father would get him away from here. It’s so disagreeable having him always about. One does not like to be unkind, but one can’t trust him or like him.”
That was how Raby felt, and showed it in her manner. She was of course much influenced by what the Bensons thought, and they naturally concluded that Oscar was guilty.
“Lots of young fellows get into hobbles, and then make a grand fiasco getting out,” Lionel had said. “I know Oscar got amongst some card-playing fellows once. Cyril does too, for that matter; but Cyril can afford it, he has plenty of money. Most likely Oscar got into a hole, and was tempted to get out of it by hook or by crook as he could. But I think it’s a mistake his staying on here. He’d be happier and do better in a fresh place. That’s my opinion, if you want it.”
Nobody but Raby did particularly want it. She, however, took her cue from Lionel, and she somewhat influenced her mother, and altogether Oscar’s present life was not a very happy one. He did his best to be patient and cheerful, and strove hard to conquer the tendency in his temperament which had been the indirect cause of all this trouble.
North was uniformly kind and encouraging, and showed him that his efforts were not unobserved, and he had his brighter days also in between the dark ones; as when Ray once asked him to drive her across to spend Saturday afternoon with May Lawrence, and talked to him quite pleasantly and freely the whole way.
It was a delightful change to him to get right away from the town and its associations, and May was pleased to see them, asked innumerable questions about Sheila, and wished she could be out in such a beautiful place and climate.
Rather to the surprise of Ray and Oscar, though apparently not to that of their young hostess herself, North walked in about tea-time, and was very cordially received by May.
From their talk they were evidently on excellent terms, and it was plain that it was no unusual thing for North to spend his free afternoon here, though his family knew nothing of his movements except that he always took a long walk on Saturday afternoons.