In ordinary matters, Sir Oswald Eversleigh was by no means a patient or
long-suffering man; but he had exhibited extraordinary endurance in all
his dealings with his nephew. The hour had now come when he could be
patient no longer.
He had written to his nephew, desiring him to call upon him at three
o'clock on this day.
The idea of this interview was most painful to him, for he had resolved
that it should be the last between himself and Reginald Eversleigh. In
this matter he had acted with no undue haste; for it had been
unspeakably distressing to him to decide upon a step which would
separate him for ever from the young man.
As the timepiece struck three, Mr. Eversleigh was announced. He was a
very handsome man; of a refined and aristocratic type, but of a type
rather effeminate than powerful. And pervading his beauty, there was a
winning charm of expression which few could resist. It was difficult to
believe that Reginald Eversleigh could be mean or base. People liked
him, and trusted him, in spite of themselves; and it was only when
their confidence had been imposed upon, and their trust betrayed, that
they learned to know how despicable the handsome young officer could
be. Women did their best to spoil him; and his personal charms of face
and manner, added to his brilliant expectations, rendered him an
universal favourite in fashionable circles.
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