It was past seven
o'clock, and the lamps in Piccadilly shone brightly, when he rose,
chilled to the bone, and walked away from the park.
"And I am to consider myself rich--with my pay and fifty pounds a
quarter," he muttered, with a bitter laugh; "and if I find a crack
cavalry regiment too expensive, I am to exchange into the line--turn
foot-soldier, and face the scornful looks of all my old acquaintances.
No, no, Sir Oswald Eversleigh; you have brought me up as a gentleman,
and a gentleman I will remain to the end of the chapter, let who will
pay the cost. It may seem easy to cast me off, Sir Oswald; but we have
not done with each other yet."
* * * * *
CHAPTER IV.
OUT OF THE DEPTHS.
After dismissing his nephew, Sir Oswald Eversleigh abandoned himself
for some time to gloomy thought. The trial had been a very bitter one;
but at length, arousing himself from that gloomy reverie, he said
aloud, "Thank Heaven it is over; my resolution did not break down, and
the link is broken."
Sir Oswald had made his arrangements for leaving London that afternoon,
on the first stage of his journey to Raynham Castle. There were few
railroads six-and-twenty years ago, and the baronet was in the habit of
travelling in his own carriage, with post-horses.
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