As he had already been thinking
of going up to London for a time, he decided to accept the
invitation.
By this time he had made the acquaintance of all the surrounding
gentry, and felt perfectly at home at Upmead. He rode frequently into
Norwich, and, whenever he did so, paid a visit to Mr. Harvey, whose
wife had died in January, never having completely recovered from the
shock that she had received in London. Mr. Harvey himself had aged
much; he still took a great interest in the welfare of the tenants of
Upmead, and in Cyril's proposals for the improvement of their homes,
and was pleased to see how earnestly he had taken up the duties of
his new life. He spoke occasionally of his son, of whose death he
felt convinced.
"I have never been able to obtain any news of him," he often said,
"and assuredly I should have heard of him had he been alive.
"It would ease my mind to know the truth," he said, one day. "It
troubles me to think that, if alive, he is assuredly pursuing evil
courses, and that he will probably end his days on a gallows. That he
will repent, and turn to better courses, I have now no hope whatever.
Unless he be living by roguery, he would, long ere this, have
written, professing repentance, even if he did not feel it, and
begging for assistance. It troubles me much that I can find out
nothing for certain of him."
"Would it be a relief to you to know surely that he was dead?" Cyril
asked.
"I would rather know that he was dead than feel, as I do, that if
alive, he is going on sinning.
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