"It's dull for you, too," said his cousin compassionately. "Oh, I don't care when I get out and about a bit." "My uncle doesn't look well, I think?" "Doesn't he?" said Edgar quickly. "Ah, I haven't much opportunity of judging." There was a touch of bitterness in his voice, and a look that was not quite pleasant in the bright hazel eyes, that were usually wonderfully cheery, considering how much their owner had to suffer, and keen as a hawk's into the bargain. "I say, Edgar," said James Cunningham, sitting down on the wall near him, and speaking low, "people do get into the way of going on and taking things for granted. It's a long time since the subject was mentioned, but do you really think my uncle doesn't know where poor Alwyn is?" "I don't know," said Edgar, flushing. "I've no reason to think he does." "It has always seemed to me," said James, with some hesitation, "that if not, some one ought to find out." "Do you think I should rest without knowing if I could help it?" said Edgar, starting up so suddenly, that the pain of the movement forced him to drop back again on his cushions and go on speaking with difficulty. "I did ask my father once, and he forbade me to mention him again. Don't talk of him." James Cunningham was silenced. The situation was an awkward one. The estate had always gone in the male line, and he would have liked to know what had become of the next heir, after whom only a life as fragile as Edgar's stood between himself and the great estates of Ashcroft. He did not even know how deep in the eyes of father and brother was the disgrace that rested on the exile. But Edgar did not look approachable, and any attempt at further conversation was checked by the appearance of Mr Cunningham himself, a tall, pale, grey-haired gentleman, with dark eyes and long features, like his son and daughter. He spoke to Edgar, rather distantly, but with a careful inquiry after his health, and Edgar answered shortly, and with a manner that was remarkably repellent of any sympathy his father might be inclined to offer. Geraldine came rushing back with Apollo clasped tenderly in her arms, but she stopped and walked demurely down the terrace at sight of her father. "Miss Hardman says I may have him, Edgar," she said, "if I don't let him distract my attention at lesson-time." "That's all right then," said Edgar, "and here is Wyn with the pony, so we had better come and see the wild duck."