Osborne came home first. He returned, in fact, not long after Roger
had gone away; but he was languid and unwell, and, though he did
not complain, he felt unequal to any exertion. Thus a week or more
elapsed before any of the Gibsons knew that he was at the Hall; and
then it was only by chance that they became aware of it. Mr. Gibson
met him in one of the lanes near Hamley; the acute surgeon noticed
the gait of the man as he came near, before he recognized who it was.
When he overtook him he said,--
"Why, Osborne, is it you? I thought it was an old man of fifty
loitering before me! I didn't know you had come back."
"Yes," said Osborne, "I've been at home nearly ten days. I daresay
I ought to have called on your people, for I made a half promise to
Mrs. Gibson to let her know as soon as I returned; but the fact is,
I'm feeling very good-for-nothing,--this air oppresses me; I could
hardly breathe in the house, and yet I'm already tired with this
short walk."
"You'd better get home at once; and I'll call and see you as I come
back from Rowe's."
"No, you mustn't on any account!" said Osborne, hastily; "my father
is annoyed enough about my going from home, so often, he says, though
I hadn't been from it for six weeks. He puts down all my languor
to my having been away,--he keeps the purse-strings, you know," he
added, with a faint smile, "and I'm in the unlucky position of a
penniless heir, and I've been brought up so--In fact, I must leave
home from time to time, and, if my father gets confirmed in this
notion of his that my health is worse for my absences, he'll stop the
supplies altogether."
"May I ask where you do spend your time when you are not at Hamley
Hall?" asked Mr. Gibson, with some hesitation in his manner.
"No!" replied Osborne, reluctantly. "I will tell you this:--I
stay with friends in the country. I lead a life which ought to be
conducive to health, because it is thoroughly simple, rational, and
happy. And now I've told you more about it than my father himself
knows. He never asks me where I've been; and I shouldn't tell him if
he did--at least, I think not."
Mr. Gibson rode on by Osborne's side, not speaking for a moment or
two.
"Osborne, whatever scrapes you may have got into, I should advise
your telling your father boldly out. I know him; and I know he'll be
angry enough at first, but he'll come round, take my word for it;
and, somehow or another, he'll find money to pay your debts and set
you free, if it's that kind of difficulty; and if it's any other
kind of entanglement, why still he's your best friend. It's this
estrangement from your father that's telling on your health, I'll be
bound."