The Squire dwelt so much upon Osborne's reserved behaviour to
himself, that brooding over this one subject perpetually he became
more morose and gloomy than ever in his manner to Osborne, resenting
the want of the confidence and affection that he thus repelled. So
much so that Roger, who desired to avoid being made the receptacle
of his father's complaints against Osborne--and Roger's passive
listening was the sedative his father always sought--had often
to have recourse to the discussion of the drainage works as a
counter-irritant. The Squire had felt Mr. Preston's speech about
the dismissal of his work-people very keenly; it fell in with the
reproaches of his own conscience, though, as he would repeat to
Roger over and over again,--"I couldn't help it--how could I?--I was
drained dry of ready money--I wish the land was drained as dry as
I am," said he, with a touch of humour that came out before he was
aware, and at which he smiled sadly enough. "What was I to do, I ask
you, Roger? I know I was in a rage--I've had a deal to make me so--and
maybe I didn't think as much about consequences as I should ha'
done, when I gave orders for 'em to be sent off; but I couldn't have
done otherwise if I'd ha' thought for a twelvemonth in cool blood.
Consequences! I hate consequences; they've always been against me;
they have. I'm so tied up I can't cut down a stick more, and that's a
'consequence' of having the property so deucedly well settled; I wish
I'd never had any ancestors. Ay, laugh, lad! it does me good to see
thee laugh a bit, after Osborne's long face, which always grows longer
at sight o' me!"
"Look here, father!" said Roger, suddenly, "I'll manage somehow about
the money for the works. You trust to me; give me two months to turn
myself in, and you shall have some money, at any rate, to begin
with."
The Squire looked at him, and his face brightened as a child's does
at the promise of a pleasure made to him by some one on whom he can
rely. He became a little graver, however, as he said,--"But how will
you get it? It's hard enough work."
"Never mind; I'll get it--a hundred or so at first--I don't yet
know how--but remember, father, I'm a senior wrangler, and a 'very
promising young writer,' as that review called me. Oh, you don't know
what a fine fellow you've got for a son! You should have read that
review to know all my wonderful merits."