Osborne had his solitary cup of coffee in the drawing-room. He was
very unhappy too, after his fashion. He stood on the hearth-rug
pondering over his situation. He was not exactly aware how hardly
his father was pressed for ready-money; the Squire had never spoken
to him on the subject without being angry; and many of his loose
contradictory statements--all of which, however contradictory they
might appear, had their basis in truth--were set down by his son
to the exaggeration of passion. But it was uncomfortable enough to
a young man of Osborne's age to feel himself continually hampered
for want of a five-pound note. The principal supplies for the
liberal--almost luxurious table at the Hall, came off the estate; so
that there was no appearance of poverty as far as the household went;
and as long as Osborne was content at home, he had everything he
could wish for; but he had a wife elsewhere--he wanted to see her
continually--and that necessitated journeys. She, poor thing! had to
be supported--where was the money for the journeys and for Aimée's
modest wants to come from? That was the puzzle in Osborne's mind
just now. While he had been at college his allowance--heir of the
Hamleys--had been three hundred, while Roger had to be content with a
hundred less. The payment of these annual sums had given the Squire
a good deal of trouble; but he thought of it as a merely temporary
inconvenience; perhaps unreasonably thought so. Osborne was to
do great things; take high honours, get a fellowship, marry a
long-descended heiress, live in some of the many uninhabited rooms at
the Hall, and help the squire in the management of the estate that
would some time be his. Roger was to be a clergyman; steady, slow
Roger was just fitted for that, and when he declined entering the
Church, preferring a life of more activity and adventure, Roger was
to be--anything; he was useful and practical, and fit for all the
employments from which Osborne was shut out by his fastidiousness,
and his (pseudo) genius; so it was well he was an eldest son, for he
would never have done to struggle through the world; and as for his
settling down to a profession, it would be like cutting blocks with
a razor! And now here was Osborne, living at home, but longing to be
elsewhere; his allowance stopped in reality; indeed, the punctual
payment of it during the last year or two had been owing to his
mother's exertions; but nothing had been said about its present
cessation by either father or son; money matters were too sore a
subject between them. Every now and then the Squire threw him a
ten-pound note or so; but the sort of suppressed growl with which it
was given, and the entire uncertainty as to when he might receive
such gifts, rendered any calculation based upon their receipt
exceedingly vague and uncertain.