This poor thing, unwanted, hated, and cast aside to live or
die--as if it were the young of some wild creature of the woods--this
one, they say, has the strength of ten, and will survive. God have
mercy on its evil fortunes."
Young Roxholm stood with folded arms gazing straight before him again
into the driving rain. His brow was knit, and he was biting his boyish
red lip.
"Is there mercy?" he said in a low voice, at length. "Is there justice,
since a human thing can be so cast into the world--and left alone?"
Lord Dunstanwolde put his hand upon his shoulder.
"All of us ask," he said. "None of us knows."
_CHAPTER V_
_My Lord Marquess Plunges into the Thames_
A rich young nobleman at the University of Oxford, who, having all the
resources of wealth and rank at his disposal, chose in these times to
devote himself to scholarly pursuits, made in the minds of his
fellow-collegians a singular and eccentric figure; but that one, more
splendidly endowed by fortune than any other, should so comport
himself, and yet no man find it possible to deride or make coarse jokes
on him, was, indeed, unheard of.
Yet, when the young heir of the house of Osmonde entered the
University, this was the position he held and which none disputed.
There were gay young rakes and ardent young toadies who, hearing of his
coming among them, fell into anticipation: the first, of more splendid
frolics, the second, of richer harvests; and though each party was
disappointed in its expectation, neither found opportunity to display
its chagrin according to the customary methods.
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