Sir Oswald was too generous a man to require much display of gratitude
from the lad on whom he so freely lavished his wealth and his
affection. When the boy showed himself proud and imperious, the baronet
admired that high, and haughty spirit. When the boy showed himself
reckless and extravagant in his expenditure of money, the baronet
fancied that extravagance the proof of a generous disposition,
overlooking the fact that it was only on his own pleasures that
Reginald wasted his kinsman's money. When bad accounts came from the
Eton masters and the Oxford tutors, Sir Oswald deluded himself with the
belief that it was only natural for a high-spirited lad to be idle, and
that, indeed, youthful idleness was often a proof of genius.
But even the moral blindness of love cannot last for ever. The day came
when the baronet awoke to the knowledge that his dead brother's only
son was unworthy of his affection.
The young man entered the army. His uncle purchased for him a
commission in a crack cavalry regiment, and he began his military
career under the most brilliant auspices. But from the day of his
leaving his military tutor, until the present hour, Sir Oswald had been
perpetually subject to the demands of his extravagance, and had of late
suffered most bitterly from discoveries which had at last convinced him
that his nephew was a villain.
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