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Updated: June 21, 2025
"The boy was left at a country workhouse in this county as it happened. I knew enough of his paternity to know that he was a suitable subject for Aymer to father. I have never regretted what I did. The boy has become the mainspring of Aymer's life; he lives again in him.
Charlotte, in her efforts to burrow under Aymer's arm, rolled off the edge of the sofa and was deftly caught by Christopher, who deposited her on the floor. She immediately tried to clamber up again, but Aymer could not second her efforts with his left arm. "Put her up again, Christopher," he said. But Christopher apparently did not hear, and Mr. Aston, who had been watching, came to the rescue.
"I never come down here in this sort of light," he said with a little catch in his voice, "without thinking of the first evening I came. How big it all seemed and how quiet." "It is quiet," said Sam in a subdued whisper. In another moment they were in Aymer's room. "Hullo, Cæsar. Here we are, turned up like bad pennies." Christopher pulled Sam across the room to the sofa.
He turned up here one day and Nevil had the sense to send him direct to us in London. It was just at the time when I was wanting to adopt a child. I had stopped cursing fate and myself, and I wanted something of my own almost as fiercely as I wanted my freedom." There was another long pause. This time Christopher put out his hand and laid it on Aymer's. "There isn't any more.
His suspicions as to Aymer's well-being vanished away, for the latter betrayed by no outward sign the sleepless nights and long days spent in wrestling with intangible dread of impending evil and the return of almost forgotten black hours. Indeed, Christopher's steady dependable strength and vigorous energy seemed to renew belief and confidence in the man with whom life had broken faith.
Christopher recollected with momentary embarrassment Aymer's inaccessibility to the general domestic staff. "He wants to find a home for them," he added hastily; "he doesn't mind where, so long as it's a happy home." Aymer guarded a smile. Christopher was already notorious for ingenious methods of getting what he wanted.
Tollens was the old butler. "Won't he ever get used to it?" "He is afraid of becoming an invalid if he gets hardened to it." "But he is, isn't he?" "Not a bit of it. He has perfectly wonderful health. He has massage and all sorts of things to keep him up to the mark. Aymer's as vain as a girl." "I don't call it vanity. I call it pluck." Nevil groaned, "Oh, you women, old and young!
There was too great confusion in his mind for him to weigh his instinctive action and subsequent behaviour against what, to Aymer, was the one and only possible code of honour. For the present it was enough that in Aymer's eyes that action was mean, despicable and contemptible.
She was proud he was so much the handiwork of Aymer, while she recognised the very weakness of his strength. "He will lose her," she mused as she sat alone when he had gone, "and it would break Aymer's heart if he knew, but he won't know. He has succeeded in making a man of him, but, oh, what a nice boy he would have been!"
The Poitevins soon found that they could not maintain themselves in the face of the general hatred. On June 22 they fled from Oxford in the company of their ally, Earl Warenne. They rode straight for the coast, but failing to reach it, occupied Winchester, where they sought to maintain themselves in Aymer's castle of Wolvesey.
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