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diff --git a/40406-8.txt b/40406-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4b1c7fb..0000000 --- a/40406-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6195 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Mary Seaham, Volume 2 of 3, by Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Mary Seaham, Volume 2 of 3 - A Novel - -Author: Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -Release Date: August 4, 2012 [EBook #40406] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 2 OF 3 *** - - - - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - MARY SEAHAM, - A NOVEL. - - BY MRS. GREY, - - AUTHOR OF "THE GAMBLER'S WIFE," &c. &c. - - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - VOL. II. - - LONDON: - COLBURN AND CO., PUBLISHERS, - GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. - 1852. - - Notice is hereby given that the Publishers of this work reserve to - themselves the right of publishing a Translation in France. - - LONDON: - Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. - - - - -MARY SEAHAM. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - Then close and closer, clinging to his side, - Frank as the child, and tender as the bride, - Words, looks, and tears themselves combine the balm, - Lull the fierce pang, and steal the soul to calm! - - THE NEW TIMON. - - -Trevor returned. Arthur Seaham entered the house one afternoon, having -been out in the grounds with Mr. de Burgh to find Mary and Eugene in the -drawing-room together. - -The meeting between the intended brothers-in-law was cordial enough to -satisfy even Mary's anxious wishes on the occasion, and she was -delighted to sit by Eugene's side and hear the two converse together -with the ease and fluency of those who have made up their minds to like, -and to be liked by the other. Arthur, standing up before the fire, his -clear eyes all the while scanning, with a critical interest he attempted -not much to disguise, the countenance and expression of his sister's -undeniably handsome intended--a scrutiny which, had Mary's love for -Eugene been of a less assured and confiding character, might have made -her a little nervous for the result, for she knew well her brother -Arthur's glance to be a very Ithuriel spear in the way of discernment -and discrimination; that although so young and guileless of heart, when -compared with many of his age, he was clearer and wiser of head than -many of more years and greater worldly experience, and that no outward -gloss, no specious disguise could blind or beguile him to bestow -admiration or approval where it was not deserved. - -As it was, since he had prepared her for his being very critically -disposed, she was obliged to rest satisfied, when, the first time they -were alone together after this opening interview, Arthur pronounced his -decided satisfaction as to the good looks of his intended -brother-in-law, but to her more anxious question, of "And you really -like him?" he replied; "And I am sure I shall really like him very much -when he has proved himself as thoroughly good a husband as I can desire -for my dear Mary." - -She laughed, and told him he was very cautious, but she must make -allowances, poor fellow! for she still believed him to be a little bit -jealous; an imputation well founded or not, as it might be, Arthur did -not attempt to contradict; and perhaps--particularly as time went on, -and day after day he saw more plainly in how strong a manner was his -sister's heart enthralled by this her new affection--how hopelessly the -stream of former interests, former feeling had turned into this -new-formed channel. How, though he had found her sisterly love still -unimpaired, it could now form but a tributary stream to the full -abounding river which had arisen to engulph her heart; nay, more, -experiencing how He, the once chief object of her affection, had become -as nothing in comparison with the exalted place he had before held in -her regard, how in her lover's presence he must feel himself as nothing, -or even _de trop_--and in his absence but the temporary substitute, ill -able to divert the yearning sigh, the longing look, the anxious thought -for the beloved one's return. - -No wonder if the young man did experience, as many are compelled to -suffer under similar circumstances, a sensation slightly analogous to -the one of which his sister had playfully accused him--and therefore was -compelled to be still more watchful over himself, lest such sentiment -might in any degree interfere with the just and unprejudiced estimate he -desired to take of Eugene Trevor's merits. - - "'Tis difficult to see another, - A passing stranger of a day, - Who never hath been friend or brother, - Pluck with a look her heart away; - 'Tis difficult at once to crush - The rebel murmur in the breast, - To press the heart to earth, and hush - Its bitter jealousy to rest, - And difficult--the eye gets dim, - The lip wants power to smile on _Him_." - -But on one point Arthur Seaham soon became fully satisfied, and much did -it tend to overcome any invidious promptings of the heart against his -future brother; for the young man's love towards his sister was in the -main most essentially unselfish. Day by day showed him only more surely, -not only how she loved Eugene--but the ardour and devotion with which -she was also beloved by him. - -It was impossible to be daily and hourly the witness of their -intercourse--to watch the anxiety with which he regarded her every -motion; the earnest attention with which he hung upon her every -word--the adoring affection with which he gazed upon her sweet -expressive countenance, and not be assured that his love was, for the -present at least, deep, earnest and sincere? - -And was not this enough to disarm the brother of all present criticism, -and divert the more close and jealous inquiry which must come hereafter. -To continue in the words of that favourite poet, from which we find -ourselves so often quoting, as coming so naturally and gracefully to -our aid in description of the present case. - - "I never spoke of wealth or race - To one who asked so much from me; - I looked but in my sister's face, - And mused if she would happier be; - And I began to watch his mood, - And feel with him love's trembling care, - And bade God bless him as he wooed - That loving girl so fond and fair." - - * * * * * - -And Trevor--he was able with perfect sincerity and unreserve to satisfy -Mary's mind as to his unfeigned admiration and approval of her darling -brother. There was no jealousy to interfere here, on his part. - -Jealousy? Ah! the most prone to such infirmity, could with difficulty -have conjured up the shadow of an excuse for similar weakness in his -case. Had he not won over--secured to himself as much, quite as much -exclusive love as he could either desire or deserve? Besides, we have by -this time perceived that Trevor was by no means a man unable to -appreciate the good and beautiful in mind and character; and how much of -these were to be found in his young brother-in-law elect! He entered -with the most kindly interest into his plans and prospects for the -future, and often as he watched Arthur Seaham's countenance--as to all -professing any interest in the matter, he with open-hearted animation -discoursed, or laid before them his views or intentions connected with -his future career--the half regretful, half admiring gaze with which -Eugene Trevor regarded the young man, might have seemed to express the -question to be rising in his mind, as to when he could remember to have -been so young, so pure, so fresh, so open, happy-hearted. - -When indeed? - -Perhaps never, Eugene Trevor; for there are minds, in which--like the -fruits and flowers of foreign climes, matured by the sunshine of an -hour--passions, tastes, principles, incompatible with youth and purity -and openness of heart, have either, by nature or the foreign sun of -circumstances, struck their roots and flourished in the very morning of -their possessors' lives, and thus, their very youth has been like age. - -Once Arthur Seaham rode over to Montrevor with Eugene Trevor. He came -back in high spirits, pleased with the place, and amused with the -expedition altogether. - -"You will have a fine old home, Mary," he said, "some of these days, for -Trevor tells me everything will be altered, whenever the house is his, -and that during his father's lifetime, he does not suppose you and he -will be a great deal there, but live in London, and other places, which -perhaps is as well, considering it might be rather a gloomy home for a -permanence if matters continued as they now are; what with the dear old -close father, and that fine-lady housekeeper, from whom I received a -very cynical glance, as I stumbled upon her in the passage, and who -holds, it seems, such a tight hand over her master and his -establishment. But I don't object to the old gentleman himself, either. -No! he is a rare old Solomon, and was very civil and flattering to me, -with reference to his approval of his son's choice of such a modest, -discreet, well-behaved young lady, for my sister. He even was so kind as -to make amends for a very indifferent luncheon--(Trevor was obliged to -give me on the sly) by presenting me at parting with an excellent piece -of advice. His son had begun enlightening him as to my intention of -entering upon the profession of the law, for the purpose of making -money, which I saw at once raised me immeasurably in his estimation, and -leading me aside when we were about to start, with so mysterious and -important an expression, that I began to imagine that the jolly old -fellow was going to present me with five hundred pounds on the spot, he -whispered anxiously in my ears, as if my very life depended on what he -was about to say: - -"'That's right, young Sir, that's right--make money--make it as long and -as much as you can. Make money--make money--and then,' with a very -expressive and emphatic pause, 'and then--keep it.'" - -Mary could not help laughing at her brother's ludicrous description, -though she told him he was an impertinent boy, thus to deride the -foibles of her venerable father-in-law. As to anything in his -character--or even aught with reference to Marryott, as at all affecting -her happiness at Montrevor--seemed to cast no shade of anxiety over her -mind. On this point she was as uncareful and unforeseeing as became -those traits in her general character we have before remarked. - -"By the bye," exclaimed her brother, either _à-propos_ to reflections to -which his late visits at Montrevor had given rise, or with reference to -hints Mr. de Burgh had once or twice let fall upon the subject, "by the -bye, I want to ask you what has become of Trevor's unfortunate brother?" - -Mary was unable to give the required information. - -"The fact is," she said, "the idea is one so very painful, even to me, -that I never bring a subject forward which must undoubtedly be one -doubly distasteful and distressing to Eugene. He never broaches it -himself--I will, however, ask him the question whenever I may have the -opportunity. It might be a comfort to him if I once broke the ice and -conversed with him sometimes on the subject." - -It was therefore in consequence of this kindly intentioned resolve, that -one day when walking alone with Eugene through the park home from -church, he--talking in a more confidential tone than was his usual wont, -on matters connected with his family affairs, and affecting their future -prospects--she placed her hand on his, and with the gentlest, tenderest -sympathy in her tone and manner, murmured, "And where, Eugene, is your -poor brother?" But she repented ere the words had passed her lips; for -Eugene perceptibly started, and paused abruptly for a single moment, -turning a wild, quick glance upon her, whilst though he answered but by -the single word "Abroad!" it was enough to show that his voice was thick -and husky as he thus replied. In a moment, however, he seemed to recover -himself from the very great shock her abrupt, and as she feared, -ill-judged question had occasioned him, and passing his hand across his -brow, quickly pursued his way. - -Grieved at what she had done, Mary walked on in silence; till Eugene, as -if he feared she must have been impressed by the signs of emotion into -which he had been surprised, suddenly began to laugh, although the laugh -had in it a tone constrained and unnatural. - -"I fear, Mary, I frightened you just now," he said, "but the fact is, -you rather frightened me by your sudden question. It sounded almost as -solemn and startling as the same inquiry must have done to Cain -after--after you know what wicked deed." - -"Indeed, dear Eugene?" Mary answered with concern, yet inwardly -surprised at the careless tone and manner her lover had now assumed with -reference to that distressing subject. - -"I am sorry, very sorry, I pained you by my abruptness, but the sad -subject was so much in my thoughts at the moment, and I had so long -wished to ask you something about your poor brother, that--" - -"Oh yes--of course--certainly, my dearest Mary, I quite understand, and -shall be very glad to give you some information concerning the poor -fellow. Just at the first start you must suppose it rather painful to -bring myself to think or speak upon, as you justly observe, so very sad -a subject. My poor brother is, as I said before, abroad, travelling I -believe--of course under guardianship. He was," and his voice faltered -as if from strong emotion, "he was in confinement for a very short time, -but that, thank God! was found unnecessary; and now, as I told you, he -is abroad. I cannot say exactly where just now." - -And having hurriedly uttered these particulars, the delivery of which -seemed to cost him much, he passed his handkerchief over his brow, on -which, even in this clear fresh November atmosphere, there had been -wrung forth some burning drops--and hastened on his pale and pitying -companion, who gently pressed his arm in silent token of her love and -sympathy. - -"Mary," he murmured in a low agitated tone, fervently returning that -mute acknowledgment, "Mary, you will never forsake me?" - -"Forsake you, Eugene! why should I forsake you?" - -"Not even if they told you I was unworthy of you--if they tried to -separate us by lies and false inventions?" - -"Dear--dear, Eugene, what can make you talk thus?--forsake you! never: -even if they were so wicked. Why even if you were really what they -represented--" - -"What--what? you would not forsake me _then_?" - -"Cain's wife forsook not her husband, and yet his crime was greater than -anything you could ever have committed," she answered in a gentle, -cheerful voice. - -"True--true--true," hurriedly he replied, (but why had he been fool -enough to put Cain into her head?)--"True, dear Mary, you are an angel, -but then Cain's faithful friend was his wife. I meant, if _before_ we -were married, they tried to separate us by such measures,--or if for -instance," he added quite cheerfully and naturally, "if, as you quite -seem to think possible, I am sorry to perceive, I did turn out a -villain." - -"Then," Mary answered firmly and gravely, "the course of conduct I must -pursue would be a question of right and wrong; it is difficult for me -indeed, to realize to myself such a position of affairs; but I know--I -feel," with a self-accusing sigh, "what my heart would at present -dictate--that I could never of my own accord forsake you, Eugene--never -could cancel the engagement which binds us to each other--unless -indeed," she added, "you, Eugene, should desire it." - -"_I_ desire, it!" he repeated with a laugh of tender scorn, "what in the -world could now arise to render our separation, for a day even, -desirable in my eyes? No, the time will soon be here when, you know, -Mary, what you have promised--that we shall never again be obliged to -part." - -Strange--strange world of contradiction; strange indeed, that in so very -brief a space of time the same enthusiastic speaker should be the -first-- - -But we must not anticipate. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - The nuptial day was fix'd, the plighting kiss - Glowed on my lips; that moment the abyss, - Which hid by moss-grown time yet yawned as wide - Beneath my feet, divorced me from her side. - A letter came-- - - THE NEW TIMON. - - -"There is a tide in the affairs of man," and Mary's we have seen, from -the time of her first arrival at Silverton, has seemed to run on to the -full, with a most uninterrupted flow of smooth prosperity most alarming. - -It was quite the latter end of November that the first break in the -party assembled at Silverton was occasioned by the departure of Arthur -Seaham for Scotland, where he went for the purpose both of seeing his -sister Alice, and arranging several matters of business, and at the -same time to consult his brother-in-law, Mr. Gillespie, whose opinion -and legal experience he held in high estimation, concerning the measures -to be adopted with reference to his intended professional studies. - -By Christmas, however, Arthur would be in London, and there again meet -Mary, who in less than ten days from his departure was to accompany the -de Burgh's to town, Trevor also proceeding thither. - -Mrs. de Burgh had persuaded her husband that it was quite indispensable -for her well-doing that her confinement--expected in January--should -occur under the auspices of a celebrated London practitioner, and Mr. de -Burgh, very persuadable on this anxious point, had taken a house for the -occasion. - -"And then of course," Mrs. de Burgh resumed complacently, "we shall -remain for the season. I shall then be able to look out for a nursery -governess for the children, and be in town for your wedding, dear Mary, -all quite comfortably." - -Mary, nevertheless, was not to continue the guest of her cousins in -Brook Street, though they expressed their willingness to accommodate her -therein; she preferred, all things considered, to avail herself of the -invitation of her former guardians, the uncle and aunt Majoribanks, to -visit them in their roomy mansion in Portman Square. - -Trevor was anxious that his marriage should take place, if possible, -very early in the spring, and the preliminaries necessary to that event -were to be set on foot immediately after the assemblage of the aforesaid -parties in town; whilst to thicken the plot, and to render the aspect of -coming events still more _couleur de rose_ in the eyes of the happy -_fiancée_, the morning before Arthur's arrival, Mary received a letter -from her sister Agnes, announcing--along with many delighted and -affectionate congratulations from the late bride on the event, which was -to render her dear Mary, she hoped, as happy as herself in her new -estate--the joyful news of her intended return to England in time to -take upon herself the management and superintendance of her sister's -wedding; for kind Sir Hugh insisted that it should be his part to give -the wedding breakfast, at the best house he could take for the occasion; -whilst at the same time, it seems the worthy baronet and his young wife -had gone so far as to decide that the intended couple could do no better -than repair to the baronet's seat in Wales after the happy event for, -their honeymoon, Glan Pennant being now let to strangers. - - * * * * * - -Poor Mary! she had been taking a long and delightful ride with her lover -the day after Arthur left Silverton. There had been no shadow, no cloud, -cast upon the calm, confiding transport of her heart, as they discussed -together their happy prospects--the episode of that Sunday walk had -never been in the slightest degree renewed, nay, seemed as if by either -party quite forgotten. - -Trevor was more gay, more gentle, more tender this day than she had ever -seen him; and when he lifted her from her horse at the door at -Silverton, and as he did so, caught the faintest sound of a gentle, -breeze-like sigh heaved from her bosom, he, with an anxious solicitude -which made Mary smile, looked into her face, and asked quite fearfully, -"why she so sighed?" - -"I do not know, indeed, dear Eugene," was the reply, "unless it be that -I am _too happy_." - - * * * * * - -The following morning, Mary and the de Burghs were assembled at the -breakfast-table, the children present as usual, but Eugene had not yet -made his appearance; his letters, or rather his letter, for there was -but one this day, lay as usual by his plate on the table. - -"Louey, put that letter down; have I not told you a hundred times, not -to pull about other people's things?" called out Mr. de Burgh to his -young daughter, whose meddling little fingers seemed irresistibly -attracted by the red seal upon this unopened document, as well as by the -endeavour to test her literary powers by deciphering the printed letters -composing the post mark. - -"Louey, pray do as you are told, and do not make your papa so cross and -fidgetty," her mother rejoined. - -"Just like the rest of her sex," remarked Mr. de Burgh, sarcastically, -"always fond of prying and peeping. I have little doubt, but that if I -were not here, the seal and direction would be carefully inspected by -more than one pair of ladies' eyes--eh, Mary?" - -Mary with playful indignation denied the insinuation, whilst Mrs. de -Burgh was exclaiming contemptuously, that he always had such bad, absurd -ideas, when the discussion was terminated by the entrance of the -unconscious object of the conversation, who after having finished his -morning greeting, proceeded to seat himself at the table, and seeing his -letter, took it up, glanced at the direction and broke the seal, while -Louey, who after her last received reproof, had slid round to Mary's -chair, convicted and ashamed; with her large dark eyes watched this -proceeding on Eugene's part with the most attentive interest. - -The first cover was thrown aside--another sealed letter was enclosed--at -that direction he also looked, and even the child, had she watched his -countenance instead of his fingers, might have been struck by its -immediate change; the deep flush succeeded by the deadly pallor which -overspread his face. He gave a quick uneasy glance around, but no one -was observing him, and then again fixing his eyes anxiously upon the -address, was about to turn and break the seal, when his elbow was -touched, and the little girl who had glided round to possess herself of -her former object of ambition--the seal on the discarded envelope--now -whispered in his ear: - -"Don't break that beautiful seal--give it to me." - -Trevor started, and looked at first as much confused and disconcerted, -as if he had been required by the young lady to yield the letter itself -for public inspection; but recovering himself in a moment, he, as if -mechanically, obeyed the child's injunction, tearing off the impression; -and thus recovering her prize, together with another polite request, -from her father, not to be such a tiresome bore, she returned with it -to her former refuge, laying it before Mary for her particular -inspection, who glancing carelessly towards the impression, perceived it -to be the Trevor coat-of-arms, together with the initials "E. T." - -Eugene in the meantime having hastily glanced his eye over the writing -inside, thrust the letter into his pocket, and proceeded to make a hasty -but indifferent breakfast. - -He did not join the ladies as usual during the few first hours of that -morning--but Mr. de Burgh informed them in answer to their inquiry, when -he came once into the drawing-room, that "Trevor was sitting in the -library, deep in meditation over the 'Times.'" At last he made his -appearance for a short time, and sat down by Mary's side, but in so very -abstracted and absent a mood, that she began to be possessed with secret -misgivings that something had occurred to annoy him, though she kept -this feeling to herself. - -Mrs. de Burgh's quick perception also discovered that something was -indeed amiss, and she playfully told Eugene that he was very stupid, -and must take another ride with Mary after luncheon to brisk him up. - -But looking down on the ground, in the same altered moody manner which -characterized his present demeanour, he murmured that he was afraid he -should be obliged to leave Silverton early in the afternoon. - -Mrs. de Burgh, on hearing this, and struck still more by his peculiar -manner, glanced inquiringly at her cousin, and was preparing to rise in -order to leave him alone with Mary, when Eugene suddenly got up from his -chair, and, making some excuse for absenting himself, quitted the -apartment. - -Mary made no remark on this demeanour of her lover, but silently and -quietly pursued her occupation. It was not in her nature, as we before -remarked, to fret or torment herself, or others, by easily excited -fears, or fanciful misgivings. She was fearful, indeed, that Eugene was -suffering under some temporary anxiety or annoyance, occasioned, -perhaps, by the letter he had received that morning; but nothing more -serious entered her imagination. - -Eugene did not come in to luncheon, but of that meal he seldom partook, -and when once, through the open door, Mary caught sight of him standing -darkly in an adjoining room, his eyes fixed earnestly upon her, she -smiled her own sweet, affectionate, confiding smile, which he returned -with a kind of subdued, melancholy tenderness. She found herself at -length in the drawing-room alone, and heard Eugene's step slowly -approaching. He half opened the door, and seeing that no one was with -her, entered the apartment. She held out her hand as he drew near, and -seizing it, he pressed it passionately to his lips. - -"Mary," he murmured, in a low, thrilling tone, whilst he gazed long and -earnestly into her face, till her soft eyes shrank, like flowers at -noon, beneath the dark, wild gleam which shone upon them. "My dear, -good, best-beloved Mary," then his arm encircled her waist, he pressed -her trembling form against his heart, imprinted a burning kiss upon her -lips, and ere Mary had recovered from the first strong surprise with -which this sudden ardour in her lover's conduct naturally inspired her, -he had left the room, and Mrs. de Burgh entering soon after to ask her -to drive, she heard that Eugene was gone! - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - Still must fate, stern, cold, reproving, - Link but to divide the heart---- - Must it teach the young and loving - First to prize and then to part. - - L. E. L. - - -The second day after Eugene Trevor's departure, Mary received a letter -from him, short, hurried, though affectionate, and mentioning that some -troublesome and rather annoying business obliged him to leave Montrevor. -He did not say for how long, or where he was going, but Mary sent her -letter, in answer, directed to Montrevor. - -She did not hear from him again. - -There wanted but two days to the one fixed for the journey to London. -The preparations necessarily preceding the removal, as well as her -naturally patient and tranquil disposition, had hitherto prevented Mary -from dwelling too uneasily on her lover's silence. After all, it had -only been for a few days, and she knew him to be naturally no great -letter-writer. The tiresome business which had taken him from home -probably engaged much of his time and attention, and he was anxious to -have it over before they met again. - -But when, on coming down to breakfast the morning of the above-mentioned -day, her anxious glance for the wished for letter was again -disappointed, she could not forbear giving vent to the anxious -exclamation, "No letter again from Eugene!" - -She glanced as she spoke towards her cousin Louis, and perceived his -regard fixed upon her, with so anxious, so grave an expression of -concern, that her heart instantly misgave her, though she said nothing -more at the time. - -Mrs. de Burgh entered the breakfast-room soon after, looking quite -unconscious, merely inquiring of Mary what news the post had brought; -and only remarked that Eugene was a very idle fellow, when Mary's -dejected silence bespoke her to have been disappointed in the results of -its delivery; immediately after breakfast Mary heard Mr. de Burgh say, -"Olivia, I wish to speak to you in the library," an unusual occurrence, -unless there was anything of very especial consequence to be -communicated, and then she heard the door shut upon them. - -She waited half an hour in a state of anxious suspense, which in vain -she strove to reason with herself was unnecessary and uncalled for. What -had this interview to do with her--with Eugene? But no--it would not do; -her heart still beat nervously in her bosom, and she strained her ears -at every sound, to listen whether it might not be the opening of the -library door, and her cousin's appearance, to reassure her, no doubt, -silly apprehension. - -Mary was reminded by all this of her feelings on the occasion of her -anticipated interview with Louis, after his having been informed of her -engagement with Eugene, and the step she had taken to put an end to the -nervous impulse under which she then had laboured. - -No doubt she would find her intrusion on this occasion perfectly -uncalled for; but still her presence was never unwelcome, and to relieve -her mind of its present uneasiness, she could at that moment have braved -any contingency. - -So to the library she proceeded, opened the door, and entered. - -"But what is the use of telling her anything about it, poor thing! till -she gets to London? For Heaven's sake, wait till then." - -This was what she heard; and if there had been any doubt on Mary's mind, -as to whether these words bore reference to herself, the confused and -disconcerted countenances of both Mr. and Mrs. de Burgh, when they -became aware of her presence, too fully assured her on that point; and -advancing, pale and trembling, towards her cousins, she at once faltered -forth: - -"Louis--Olivia! have you heard anything of Eugene? Is he ill? or what -has happened?" and then she burst into tears. - -"No, no, dear Mary, there is nothing the matter with Trevor--he is quite -well." - -Mr. de Burgh hastened to confirm this, and in the gentlest, kindest -manner made her sit down by his side. - -"The fact is," he said, "I have had a letter from him this morning, -which may possibly damp your spirits a little for the moment, although -it can, of course, be of no ultimate importance, only defer expected -happiness to a remoter period." - -Mary, drying her eyes, anxiously waited for him to proceed. - -"Trevor writes me word that his marriage, owing, it seems, to some -rather serious business, must of necessity be postponed, he does not say -till when. But you see," he continued, breaking off into a more cheerful -and encouraging tone of voice, "there is nothing so fatally unfortunate -in this." - -No, indeed, it was not the bare fact those words conveyed which bowed -down Mary's trembling spirit, and gave such wan and wintry sadness to -the smile with which she attempted to acknowledge her cousin's -comforting words. It was not the mere intelligence that her marriage was -postponed which fell like a cloud upon her soul, it was that dark -presentiment which often on occasions of less or greater magnitude -assails the mind of man, that the happy prosperity of his life has -reached its culminating point: that the point is turned, and henceforth -it must take a downward course. - -"But why," she faltered, now glancing towards Mrs. de Burgh, who sat -silent and distressed, "why did he not write and tell me this himself?" - -"I think, dear Mary, Louis had better tell you what Eugene said in his -letter, which was to him, not to me. I will come back presently," and -rising, Mrs. de Burgh kissed Mary's pale cheek, and gladly made her -escape from the thing she particularly dreaded--painful circumstances -over which she could have no control; so Mary once more turned her -plaintive glance of inquiry upon her cousin Louis. - -"Here is his letter!" Mr. de Burgh replied; "if you would like to read -it, it may be as well that you should do so, as it is all I know, or -understand about the matter." - -Mary took the letter in her trembling hand, and steadying it as she -could--read in her lover's hand-writing the following communication, -which, from the concise, unvarnished manner in which it was conveyed, -led one rather to suspect that it had never been intended for the eye of -his tender-hearted lady-love, but, with the well-known proverb -respecting "fine words," &c. uppermost in his mind--penned rather for -the private benefit of one of his own strong-minded species. - - "Dear de Burgh, - - "You will, I am sure, be surprised, when I tell you that - circumstances have lately arisen which render it impossible that my - marriage can take place as soon as I had hoped and expected. I need - not tell you that my distress and vexation are extreme, the more - so, that I am forced to be convinced of the expediency, nay, - necessity of this postponement, finding it quite impossible, under - the present position of affairs, that with any justice to Mary, - our union could be concluded. Of course more particular explanation - will be required; but I write this merely to beg that either you or - Olivia will break to her this intelligence, of which I feel it - right she should not be kept in ignorance, I am myself quite - unequal to communicate with her upon the subject. Tell her only - that I am concerned and disappointed beyond expression, that I will - write to her brother more fully, or to any of her friends who may - desire it; but that I cannot, dare not, trust myself to put pen to - paper to address her till I can see my way more clearly. - - "Believe me, ever, dear de Burgh, - - "Yours most sincerely, - - "EUGENE TREVOR." - -A large tear rolled down Mary's cheek as she refolded and laid aside the -letter. - -"Poor Eugene!" she murmured gently, "how unhappy he seems to be! You -will write to him, Louis; will you not?" she added: "If so, do tell him -I am grieved, disappointed, for his sake, but that he must not distress -and harass himself on my account--that he must be patient till these -obstacles are removed. Our happiness has, till now, been too great and -uninterrupted for us to have expected that it could continue without any -thing to rise and mar the smoothness of its course; we shall only prize -it the more when it is restored, and love each other the more firmly for -this little reverse." - -"Had you not better perhaps write and tell him all this yourself?" said -Mr. de Burgh, with a smile of kind and gentle interest. - -"I think perhaps I had better not," she answered sadly. "You see he does -not like to write to me upon the subject, so perhaps it would distress -him the more to hear from me just now. I know it is a peculiarity in -Eugene to shrink from the direct discussion of any circumstance painful -and annoying to his feelings. Tell him therefore, also--if you, Louis, -will be so kind as to write--not to think it necessary to enter into any -particulars at present, with my brother, or any one else. It is quite -bad enough for him to be troubled by these affairs, without further -annoyance being added to the business. I am quite satisfied with what he -has imparted--quite satisfied as to the expediency and necessity of our -marriage being deferred--that I can wait, and shall be content patiently -to wait, as long as it shall be required." - -Yes, Mary, wait--wait--learn patiently to wait--it is woman's lesson, -which, sooner or later, your sex must learn, and of which your meek soul -will have but too full experience! The cup of joy so temptingly -presented "to lips that may not drain," but instead--the sickening hope -deferred--the long heart thirst--yet still to patiently hold on, -awaiting meekly her lingering reward. "Bearing all things, believing all -things, hoping all things, enduring all things." - -The few last days previous to a departure, is under any circumstances, -generally a somewhat uncomfortable and unsettled period. Our Silverton -party were doubly relieved by its expiration. Eugene's letter seemed to -have cast a damp over their general spirits. - -Mrs. de Burgh, evidently puzzled and perplexed, was at a loss how to -treat the subject, when discussing it with Mary; whilst Louis, far from -seeming elated at this hitch in an affair of which he had always -professed such unqualified disapprobation, was evidently sorry and -annoyed at this disturbance of his cousin's peace of mind, and whilst -more than ever, kind and affectionate in his demeanour towards herself, -was unusually out of humour with every one around him. - -As for Mary, she walked about more like a person half awakening from a -long and happy dream, who feels herself struggling hard not to break the -pleasant spell. It seemed to her, that there was a dull and silent -vacuum reigning over the large mansion, she had never before perceived. -She looked wearily from the window upon the dreary December scene, and -it seemed that almost for the first time she became aware that it was -not the bright summer month which had marked her first arrival. She felt -that now, she also would be glad to go. - -What! glad to leave the spot where, who knows poor Mary, but that the -brief bright summer time of your existence has passed and gone? For -there is a summer time in the life of every mortal being--a more or -less bright, passionate ecstatic season of enjoyment, though -wofully--fearfully evanescent are the flowers and leaves which mark some -mortals' summer time. - -But why lament for this--if, may be, the autumn with its calm cool -chastened light be longer thine? - -The morning of departure arrived--and pale and passive in the midst of -all the bustle and excitement attendant on the starting of a large -family party, composed of servants, children, a lady suffering from the -nervous and uncomfortable feelings attendant on her situation, and a -rather fidgetty, impatient husband--pale and passive, yet with an -inwardly bruised and sinking sensation of the heart, Mary entered the -carriage, and was soon borne far away from the vicinity of Silverton and -Montrevor. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - Oh, thou dark and gloomy city! - Let me turn my eyes from thee; - Sorrow, sympathy nor pity, - In thy presence seems to be; - Darkness like a pall hath bound thee-- - Shadow of thy world within-- - With thy drear revealings round me, - Love seems vain, and hope a sin. - - L. E. L. - - -Mary on her arrival in London, went straight to Portman Square, where -she was received with affectionate gladness by her venerable relations. - -They, of course, had been amongst the first to be made aware of their -niece's matrimonial prospects, and proud and happy did the intelligence -render the worthy pair. Full and hearty were the congratulations poured -upon the pale and drooping _fiancée_,--to be silenced for the time by -the dejected answer: - -"Yes, dear aunt, but for the present our marriage is postponed." - -After this first ordeal, there was something not ungenial to Mary's -state of mind in the orderly and quiet monotony of the old-fashioned, -yet comfortable establishment of the Majoribanks. Their daughter was -remarkable for nothing but that indolence of habit and disposition which -a long sojourn in the luxurious East often engenders, and made little -more impression upon Mary's mind, than the costly shawls in which the -orientalized lady at rare intervals appeared enveloped; whilst some -little creatures, chattering in an outlandish tongue, and attended by a -dark-hued ayah, only occasionally excited her present vague, languid -powers of interest and attention. - -London in December bears by no means an inviting and exhilarating -aspect; still there are moods and conditions of minds with which at this -season it better assimilates than in its more bright and genial periods. -No glare, or glitter, or display then distracts our spirits. Over the -vast city and its ever-moving myriads, seems to hang one dark, thick, -impenetrable veil, beneath whose dingy folds, joy and misery, innocence -and crime, indigence and wealth, alike hurry on their way, -undistinguishable and indistinct. Men are to our eyes "as trees -walking,"--by faint, uncertain glimpses we alone recognise the face of -friend or foe, who see us not--or, in our turn, are seen, by those we -unconsciously pass by. - -Then, and there, in the "dark grey city," more than in "the green -stillness of the country," we can retire into the sanctuary of our own -sad hearts--or beneath this vague and dreamy influence the poet's heart -may wander undisturbed, and as he "hears and feels the throbbing heart -of man," may calmly image forth his destined theme for thought, or song. -"The river of life that flows through streets, tumultuous, bearing along -so many gallant hearts, so many wrecks of humanity;--the many homes and -households, each a little world in itself, revolving round its -fireside, as a central sun; all forms of human joy, and suffering -brought into that narrow compass; and to be in this, and be a part of -this, acting, thinking, rejoicing, sorrowing with his fellow-men." - -Poor Mary! she too went forth, and walked, or drove, as beneath one dim, -broad shadow; everything without her and within, vague, dreamy, and -indistinct, except when some pale face or dark eye startled her -momentarily from her trance, by their fancied or seeming similitude to -that loved being, whom some suddenly eclipsing power, like the one now -veiling the wintry sun, had hidden from her aching sight,--but of whom, -each day, she lived in sure but anxious anticipation of receiving -tidings either in person or by letter. - -Mary had not written to her brother Arthur on the subject of Eugene's -letter till she came to London, then so lightly did she touch upon the -matter it contained, giving her brother merely to understand that her -marriage was deferred for a short period; that he only in his reply -expressed pleasure at the idea that he was not to lose her quite so -soon, and at the same time mentioned his intention of remaining in -Edinburgh a little longer than he had previously intended, according to -the urgent solicitations of his sister Alice, who had so few -opportunities of enjoying the society of her relations--and at the same -time, for the more interested purpose of reaping as long as he was able -the benefit of his lawyer brother-in-laws' valuable counsel and -assistance on the subject upon which his mind was so keenly set; -affording so excellent a preparation for those regular studies, in -which, after the Christmas vacation, he was to engage as member of the -Middle Temple. - -And thus the affectionate brother remained in perfect ignorance that -anything was amiss in the concerns of his favourite sister, during this -protracted absence. But the old couple of course soon began to require -some more defined explanation as to the state of affairs, and an -interview with Mr. de Burgh, when he called one morning to see Mary, did -not tend to throw any very satisfactory light upon the subject. All that -he could inform them concerning the matter was, that some business was -pending, which would prevent the marriage from taking place as soon as -had been intended; that Mrs. de Burgh had heard from her cousin, Mr. -Trevor, who seemed to be considerably distressed by this impediment, and -to shrink from holding any direct communion with his betrothed until -matters had assumed a more favourable aspect; that he announced his -intention of coming up to town as soon as he could possibly leave his -father, who was suffering from another dangerous attack of illness. -Until such time he, Mr. de Burgh, supposed there was nothing to be done, -particularly as Mary's own solicitations were most urgent to that -effect; and she, indeed, poor girl, always professed herself perfectly -satisfied that all was right. - -Ah, how could it be otherwise? the bare idea was treason to her -confiding, trustful heart. - -Mary did not see a great deal of Mrs. de Burgh after her first arrival. - -It is astonishing how great a barrier a few streets and squares of the -metropolis can form against the intercourse of dearest and most -familiar friends. Mrs. de Burgh was ill at first and uncomfortable -herself, and it only distressed her to see Mary under the present -unsatisfactory aspect of affairs. Then her confinement intervened, and -after that she was surrounded by other friends, whose society was -unassociated with the painful feelings, which by that time had occurred -to throw a still greater constraint over her intercourse with the pale, -sad Mary. - -How characteristic this is of the general friendship of worldly people. -How warm, how bright, has been the affection showered upon us when we -were gay, glad, or hopeful. But let some cloud arise to dim our aspect, -let our spirits droop, our brow be overcast, then, though they may not -love us less--though they may feel for and pity us, nay, would do much -to restore our happiness, if in their power; yet if that cannot -be--then--"come again when less sad and sorrowful, when your lips once -more can give back smile for smile--when your voice has lost these notes -of deep dejection, _then_, oh, come again, and we will with open arms -receive you, and our love be as fond, as fervent, as unconstrained; but -till then--away! you chide our spirits, you restrain our mirth." - -This is the language which seems to breathe from every altered look and -tone of our worldly friends. - - * * * * * - -Mary went one day to see her cousin. She found Olivia on the sofa, -looking a little delicate, but only the more beautiful from that cause, -as well as from the subdued, softened expression of her countenance. - -Her husband sat affectionately by her side, the brightest satisfaction -beaming from his handsome features, gazing upon his lovely wife, and -new-born son, a fine healthy infant, resting on the mother's bosom. - -It was altogether a perfect picture of happy family prosperity, and -tears of heartfelt pleasure rose to Mary's eyes at the sight. - -She wished and prayed that it might be an earnest of the establishment -of a happier and better state of things between that married pair; that -the long slumbering, or diverted demonstration of affection, now -reawakened or recalled, might never again be put to silence, or lose -their reasserted power. Alas! for the transitory nature of pure and holy -influences like the present, upon the light, inconstant, or the worldly -hearted; influences of time, or circumstances, which like the shaken -blossoms of the spring, the breath of vanity or dissipation can in a -moment dispel and scatter to the ground. - - "They never came to fruit, and their sweet lives soon are o'er, - But we lived an hour beneath them, and never dreamed of more." - -At least thus we regret to say, it proved with regard to any temporary -influence to which Mrs. de Burgh might have been subjected. For her -convalescence, and the allurements and temptations of the ensuing -season, tended too surely to the overthrow of those hopes and -aspirations, in which poor Mary so rejoiced, in behalf of her cousin -Louis and his beautiful wife. But this is wandering from the regular -progress of our story. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - I am not false to thee, yet now - Thou hast a cheerful eye; - With flushing cheek and drooping brow, - I wander mournfully. - - Thou art the same; thy looks are gay, - Thy step is light and free, - And yet, with truth, my heart can say, - I am not false to thee. - - MRS. NORTON. - - -Spring was fast advancing. Arthur Seaham had returned some time from -Scotland, and had entered as a student of the Temple. The Morgans had -arrived in London, yet the cloud seemed only to thicken the more round -Mary's prospects. - -The friends had ceased to pain her ears by any open animadversion of her -lover. They seemed to wait in moody silence the issue of affairs; the -dangerous and precarious condition, in which they had ascertained that -his father still remained--giving rise, in a great measure, to the idea -suggested by a vague hint from the son, that on this circumstance -depended the removal of the impediment which he professed had arisen -against his marriage--still excusing his non-appearance. - -And Mary--though not to hear mention of that beloved name, was to her -almost as great an agony, as to know that injurious and suspicious -thoughts were silently harboured in the breast of those around her, -against that one loved being; and though her cheek day by day was -becoming more pale, her heart more sinking--yearning for her lover's -exculpation--yet more she still lived hopefully, trustfully, sure that -all would eventually be right. - -Day by day, she thought "he will be here," sometimes that he might even -then be in London, only waiting to make his presence known until his -anxious consultations with his lawyers had set his mind more at rest. - -Mary was sometimes induced to accept the urgent solicitations of her -sister Agnes to accompany herself and Sir Hugh, to such places of public -amusement as the yet early season rendered admissible. - -Lady Morgan, blooming and happy as ever youthful wife could be; with her -indulgent husband, upon whom his continental sojourn, together with the -influence of his handsome young spouse, had produced quite a polishing -and refining effect, were established in a fashionable hotel, for the -short space of time which now, alas! that there was no marriage to be -celebrated, they intended--this season--to remain in London. - -One night, when on the point of issuing from their private box at one of -the minor theatres, where they had been witnessing the performance of a -famous actress, a party of men, who had apparently occupied one of the -lower boxes on the same side of the house, rushed quickly past, laughing -and talking with light and careless glee. - -Some glanced slightly on the young Lady Morgan; who happened to stand -forward at the time, and whose appearance momentarily attracted their -attention; but Mary, without being seen from her position behind her -sister, caught sight of the party as they passed. - -Why did the beatings of her heart stand still--that sick faint chill -creep over her? could it be--oh, could it indeed be Eugene! nearly -foremost of that group, whose dark eye had flashed that cursory glance -upon her sister, as he hurried by--whose voice, in that well known -cheerful laugh (at least so it had ever been to Mary's ears) had echoed -on her heart, her anxious, longing, saddened heart? - -Oh! could it be--and was it thus she now beheld him--he, whose last -embrace still thrilled her frame--whose parting kiss still lingered on -her lips--unconscious of her presence, careless, unthinking of her -grief. - -Yes, thus she first beheld him, for whom she had so long watched and -waited,--and wept, when none were near. - -"Mary dear, are you there?" her sister said looking back, when they had -stepped out into the passage. "But, my dear darling, how pale you look. -Sir Hugh," she exclaimed quite reproachfully to her husband, "pray give -Mary your arm," and with repentant alacrity the Baronet hastened to -offer his assistance to his half-fainting sister-in-law. "It was the -heat--the gas," poor Mary murmured; "she would be better when they went -into the air." - -And she did then seem to revive, and entering the carriage, told not a -word of what had occurred to trouble her; nor hinted the fact of having -seen Eugene, (if indeed her bewildered fancy had not deceived her), even -to her brother, when she saw him on the morrow. - -No, still in hope and trust, she waited patiently. The very next night -but one after this occurrence, she was again called for by her sister -and brother-in-law, to accompany them to the opera, but just re-opened -for the season. - -Oh! the wistful earnestness of that sad eye, straining its aching sight -to discern some inmate of the opposite boxes, of the stalls below, who, -for one deceiving moment, made her heart beat fast, by some fancied -similitude with the object of her thoughts. But no, the vision of the -night before was not to be renewed on this occasion, though of its -reality--which at times she was almost inclined to doubt--she was not to -leave the house quite unassured. - -Mary and her sister were waiting in the round room, expecting the return -of Sir Hugh, who had gone to look for the carriage; Lady Morgan, talking -to a gentleman with whom she was acquainted, when Mary's attention was -rivetted by the colloquy between two men, who had previously passed them -in the vestibule, and near whom they again found themselves standing, -evidently without the former being aware of their vicinity. - -"Oh, yes!" said one, "that was Lady Morgan, the young wife of the rich -Sir Hugh, the Welsh baronet, more than twice her age; a fine looking -young woman; but did you see that pale, pretty girl who was with them; -do you know that she is Miss Seaham, her sister, Eugene Trevor's -intended." - -"Ah, indeed? I saw Trevor to-day, and congratulated him, but I thought -he did not seem much to like the subject." - -"No indeed; I hear he is rather trying to back out of the affair. Some -spoke in the wheel, I suppose about money matters, and the old father -who was thought to be dying, seems to have picked up again." - -"Well, I should think there were a few things besides money, which would -rather stand in the way," was the reply, and then the speakers lowered -their voices as they talked on, and Mary heard--and wished to hear no -more. - -"Dear Agnes, shall we go on? There is Sir Hugh coming," and Lady Morgan -felt a gentle pressure on her fair round arm, and looking back, caught -sight once more of her sister's pale and piteous countenance. - -"My poor, dear Mary, these places certainly do not suit you," whispered -her affectionate young _chaperone_, as she passed her sister's trembling -arm through hers, and pressed onwards through the crowd to meet her -husband. "I must really carry you back with me as soon as possible to -our mountain breezes." - -"Would that I had never left them, Aggy!" murmured poor Mary in low -plaintive accents, whilst an uncontrollable flood of tears came to her -full heart's relief. - - * * * * * - -The very next day, Mary set out on one of those expeditions, which at -this time might be called her only real enjoyment--namely, her visits to -her brother in his chambers at the Temple; often, as was the case on -this occasion, to bring him back to dine in Portman Square. - -The Majoribanks' chariot, with its fat, slow, sleek horses, and steady -attendants, being conceded to her special use this evening; she went -forth heavy at heart, but anxiously striving to rally her spirits, to -meet her brother with that cheerfulness which in his society she ever -strove (and found it less difficult than under other circumstances) to -assume. It was rather early to proceed straight to the Temple, and -therefore Mary had agreed with her aunt, that she should go first to -execute some commissions in the opposite direction. - -We can easily imagine from what source alone the interest could spring, -with which her sad eyes gazed through the carriage windows, as she -passed through some of the streets in this quarter. - -Did she not know that somewhere in this vicinity, Eugene always lodged -when he came to town. And oh! to be passing perhaps the very door of the -house that contained him, was the gasping utterance of her heart, as she -swallowed down the tears which struggled upwards at this suggestion. - -"But he--he does not care--he can be happy and cheerful without me," was -the still more bitter thought which succeeded, as she shrank back in the -carriage in dark and tearless dejection. - -But from this she is aroused by one of those matter-of-fact realities of -common life, which form fortunate and salutary breaks in the tragic, or -the romance of man's existence. - -The carriage stops before a fancy workshop in Bond Street, where many -colours for her aunt's worsted work are to be matched or chosen. - -Mary does not herself alight; but gives a few directions to the well -initiated footman, who knows perfectly how to give the order--better -indeed perhaps than she herself--and sits in patient abstraction till -the man's return. He reappears, puts the parcel into the carriage, then -draws abruptly back, for some one has touched his arm, and signs that he -should give place. - -Mary languidly lifts her eyes, and Eugene is before her. The place and -circumstance of this meeting, admitted not at first of any very open -demonstration of feeling, such as must necessarily have been excited. A -few low, hurried, agitated sentences were uttered by Trevor, as he bent -forward into the carriage towards Mary, whose pale lips could scarcely -articulate incoherent expressions of her sudden joy. - -Then, by a peremptory gesture from the gentleman, the servant is -commanded to let down the steps. He obeys. Trevor springs in. The door -is closed; a moment's whispered consultation, and in faltering tones -Mary gives orders to be driven to the Temple, and the carriage rolls off -in that direction. - -Once more alone together--once more by Eugene's side--Mary sees already -the cloud dispersed--fear, doubt, misgiving, vanished from her path. - -How comes it, then, that misery and bewilderment is the confused -impression which this interview shall afterwards leave upon her mind? -How is it, that for the most part of that long way, she sits weeping -silently, her cold hand trembling in the burning palm of Eugene?--he now -in low, despairing accents bemoaning his grief, his pain--now -passionately cursing his wretched fortunes, his fatal circumstances? - -But no explanation--no hope--no promised deliverance from the sorrow or -the evil. - -Once, indeed, in a low and hurried tone, he breathed into her ear the -notion of a clandestine marriage--a secret union--one to be kept -concealed till such a time as the present necessity for secresy should -be at an end; the idea probably suggested to his mind by passing one of -those dark, often magnificent, but almost unfrequented churches, so well -suited, to all appearance, for the celebration of mysterious rites and -secret ceremonies, which rear their heads in some of the close, dark -streets of the city. But the firm, though gentle withdrawal of her hand, -the look of almost cold astonishment which marked her reception of this -desperate proposition, sufficed to convey to Eugene Trevor's mind the -full conviction that with all her yielding tenderness, her feminine -weakness of disposition, never must he hope to tempt his gentle, -pure-hearted love from the right, straight road of principle and duty -into any crooked path of deviating, or questionable proceeding. - -"No, no, Eugene!" seemed to speak the sadly averted countenance. "No, -no, Eugene; the grief, the sin, the shame, whatever it may be, that now -stands between us, can never be set aside, be overstepped by such -unworthy means as you suggest. I can suffer, I can wait, I can make -every other sacrifice for your sake; but I cannot err--I cannot thus -deceive." - -But suddenly, during the dreary pause that succeeded, Mary's eye -recognises some passing object, calling forth a momentary interest in -her mind, even in this moment of concentrated absorption of feeling. - -She makes a quick forward movement of surprise; but when Eugene looked -inquiringly, as if to discern the cause of her apparent interest, the -momentary excitement died away, and she answered with melancholy -composure: - -"It was only that I saw Mr. Temple pass--he of whom, you know, I told -you once." - -"What--who--Eus--Temple I mean, did you say? Are you certain--quite -certain?" he exclaimed, with anxious, eager excitement, far surpassing -any which the recognition had excited in her own breast; "are you -sure--quite sure that it was he?" - -"Yes" with a sigh; "I do not think I could be mistaken, for he looked so -earnestly into the carriage; but why--why, Eugene," looking at her lover -with a faint, melancholy smile, and some expression of surprise, "why -should it thus excite you?" - -"My own dear love," Eugene now said, regaining possession of her hand, -and trying also to assume a forced smile, as well as tone of careless -unconcern, "I was not particularly excited, but you know I cannot help -feeling a slight degree of interest in that man after what you told me. -And did he see us? you, dearest, I mean?" he continued, still with a -degree of anxious solicitude in his tone. - -"Yes, I think, I am almost sure, he did," she wearily replied, and then -her exhausted feelings sunk her again into a state of hopeless, listless -dejection. - -And Eugene sat too, for a few minutes, plunged in anxious, thoughtful -silence, from which he was aroused by a glance towards the windows, -reminding him that they were approaching closely to Mary's destination. - -Immediately, with an exclamation of despair, he pulls the check-string -and the carriage stops; the servant is at the door. There was but a -bewildered hasty parting. Trevor springs out into the street, turns upon -Mary one expressive, eager glance, and he is gone! The carriage -proceeds a little way, and then rolls within the Temple gates, and Mary -is found by her brother, when he comes hurrying down to meet her, pale, -trembling, nearly hysterical, from the effects of all her nerves and -feelings had undergone. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - Me, the still "London" not the restless "Town" - (The light plume fluttering o'er Cybele's crown,) - Delights;--for there the grave romance hath shed - Its hues, and air grows solemn with the dead. - - THE NEW TIMON. - - - Lives of great men all remind us - We can make our lives sublime, - And, departing, leave behind us - Footprints on the sands of time. - - LONGFELLOW. - - -What was the matter?--what had happened?--was Arthur Seaham's anxious -inquiry, when having for greater privacy entered the carriage, he had -sat a few minutes by Mary's side, tenderly and soothingly holding her -hand--till the first paroxysm of emotion, (which to his astonishment -and dismay, greeted his first appearance) was in a degree subsided. - -A few broken words, threw light upon the matter. She had seen--she had -just parted from Eugene. Arthur pressed no further question at the -moment, but proposed taking her up-stairs to his chambers, to give her -wine to recruit the poor girl's agitated spirits; but this Mary -declined. She only wanted air; she felt suffocated by the heat and -confinement of the carriage. She would like to get out, and walk home. - -But the brother would not agree to this. It would be much too far for -her to walk just now. No, the carriage should wait, and they might take -a few turns in the court and gardens. The students were all in -Hall--they would be quite undisturbed. To the court then they -accordingly proceeded, Mary leaning on her brother's arm, and the quiet -refreshment of that quaint old spot, upon this mild spring evening; its -fresh green grass plot, sparkling fountain and overhanging elms, just -then putting forth their early shoots, and between which the venerable -walls and buttresses, of the Temple Hall, revealed their sober beauties; -the sweet notes of a thrush sounding from the garden below. All these -combined, affording as it did, so strong a contrast to the din, stir, -and turmoil from without, as well as the bewildering disquiet and -agitation through which her mind had lately passed, did not fail to -produce its soothing influence on poor Mary's nerves and spirits; and -seated upon one of the benches of the court, she was able, with -tolerable composure, to unburden the trouble of her heart to that dear, -kind brother, till it became almost a soothing relief to dilate upon the -distressing, and unsatisfactory nature of the late interview with her -lover. - -Arthur listened sorrowfully and compassionately to his sister's -melancholy relation of the blight, which had fallen on the unalloyed -happiness of which he had found her in such full enjoyment on his return -to England. He remembered her bright and happy countenance then--and the -change it now exhibited, so touched and saddened the young man's -feelings at the time, that he only held Mary's hand, and sympathized, -soothed, and cheered with words of encouragement--neither expressing -blame, anger, or suspicion, against the originating source of all this -woe. - -But at length when Mary said: "And now, dear Arthur, I want -you to assist me, I think something should be done--something -ascertained--anything will be better than this miserable state of -uncertainty and suspense," he looked up quickly with a sudden, impatient -flash from his bright blue eye, and answered: - -"Yes indeed, Mary. I think so too, something must, and shall be done." - -"But listen to me dear Arthur," she continued mildly. "What I should -wish to ascertain would be, whether, under the present circumstances of -affairs--whatever they may be--Eugene's engagement to me, involves him -in any unforseen trouble or annoyance; for," she added very sadly, "if I -thought that were the case--" - -"Would you give him up?" her brother quickly rejoined, with something of -pleasurable hope lighting up his countenance, as he seized upon the idea -suggested. - -"Give him up! Oh, cruel words and easily spoken!" Mary averted her head, -but with a deep drawn sigh, and forced calmness, continued: "I could -never give Eugene up, unless," and again a sorrowful sigh, as she -thought upon similar words spoken in a formerly recorded conversation, -"unless Eugene himself desired it; or, that I discovered it was -necessary or expedient, to his comfort or prosperity that I should do -so. If it were really so; or, should it be more for his ease that some -definite period, one of any length, or duration, should be agreed upon, -for the postponement of our marriage, he need not fancy I should -impatiently shrink from such an engagement. And it is this, that I -should like to be conveyed to Eugene. I would write--but writing is so -very painful, and unsatisfactory, under such circumstances; I can quite -enter into poor Eugene's feelings on that point. I would ask you, dear -Arthur, to go and speak to him--if," and she looked anxiously into her -brother's face, "if I could be _quite certain_, if I could quite trust -you in the matter--if I could be perfectly sure that you would not -allow your jealous affection for myself, to outrun your kindness and -consideration towards Eugene. Arthur, if you went to him could you -promise. Oh, I am sure you will not take from me the stay, and comfort, -I can in this emergency feel alone in you--you will promise that no -harsh, reproachful, or uncourteous word shall escape your lips, on the -subject of my concerns." - -"Mary, dear," the young man replied with still somewhat of a knit and -moody brow, "I will do anything to serve and please you; but I only want -open and straight forward dealings in this affair. It is all this -equivocating, tantalizing mystery that I can neither abide or -understand. But," he continued, as Mary again droopingly listened to his -words, "I am not so selfish as to let any impatient temper of my own, -stand in the way of your comfort or gratification; I will do all that -you desire. I will go to Trevor, and _on this occasion_, act and speak, -as from your own trusting, loving, self." - -Mary's spirit was again calmed and revived by this promise of her -brother's, and after a little more anxious conversation on the subject, -Arthur Seaham sought further to compose her spirits and divert her mind, -before leaving the classic spot in which they found themselves. He -conducted her down the Italian descent into the garden with the broad -river gliding sluggishly below that parterre, which in the summer months -from its trees and flowers, is so deserving of the name, but which a -poet's hand has made to bloom with "roses above the real." - -He strove also to excite and amuse her intelligent fancy by pointing -out, and particularizing some of the principal points and buildings of -this ancient and interesting seat of learning, ran over the names of -those, who from "the great of old," to more modern, but none the less -eminent instances, had either in connection with law, literature, or -wit, graced or sanctified its precincts by their presence and abode. And -he playfully asserted that, amongst those, he, Arthur Seaham, intended -most surely one day to rank. - -"Bye the bye, talking of great men, Mary," the young man suddenly -exclaimed, "from whom do you think I have had a visit, to-day? From Mr. -Temple." - -"Indeed!" answered Mary, with no slight display of interest, "then I was -right, it really was him who passed us just now." - -"Yes, no doubt it was, for he had scarcely left me a quarter of an hour, -before you arrived; he is on the eve of leaving England for the -continent, and came, I fancy, to carry away the latest intelligence -concerning you, Mary; for he made anxious enquiry with regard to your -marriage, the report of which, it seems, reached his ears; though it -appears he left Wales some months ago, and has since been living, in -great seclusion, in some quiet, antiquated nook, in this very -neighbourhood. Mary, what can be the history of that man? What a -superior being does his countenance, his whole bearing, bespeak him to -be, and yet--that some blight has fallen upon his existence, is but too -evident. He gives one the idea of some being led forth from a higher -sphere, - - "'To act some other spirit's destiny, - Not allowed to hit the scope - At which their nature aims-- - Who pass away,'" - -continued the young man, in the words of the suggested quotation: - - "'Having in themselves - A better destiny all unfulfilled, - A holier, milder being, unenvolved!' - -"But, dear Mary, he is much altered since I saw him last. He was then -like one in whom suffering had been nobly subdued, a holy calm seemed to -have settled on his soul, a strength, not his own, to have been -vouchsafed him. To-day he looked ill in body, and worn in mind. I cannot -but think that since that time he has suffered, and is still suffering, -from some newly arisen source of pain, or disquietude; and my dear -sister," Arthur added, with a smile of playful accusation, "I cannot -help suspecting that you have something to do with the distress, now -weighing on the mind of this remarkable, but most mysterious man. The -agitation of his voice and manner when he spoke of you, Mary, was not -to be concealed." - -"Oh, Arthur, do not say so!" Mary exclaimed, with sorrowful earnestness, -shrinking from the idea of herself being the cause of sufferings, such -as she now so well could understand, but especially to that good, great, -and almost venerated man. "And what did you tell him about my -engagement?" she faintly enquired. - -"All I knew, Mary; with him I felt reserve to be both useless and -unnecessary. He listened to my intelligence with the greatest interest -and attention, but in silence, and almost immediately after, arose to -take his leave. I ventured to add, that I was sure it would have given -you pleasure to have seen him. He shook his head with a sad smile, and -said, 'he had seen _you_ more than once since you came to London.' Dear -Mary, you seem as if doomed to mystery in your lovers; and shall I tell -you something more singular still? I was much struck by something in -Temple which strongly reminded me of Trevor. Not exactly feature, and -not at all expression, but a something I cannot well define." - -Mary sadly shook her head. There had been at times some vague impression -of the same kind made upon her own mind; but at present fancy was too -languid to realise the suggestion. - -They returned to the carriage, for though the early dinner-hour of their -kind, old-fashioned relations had been deferred expressly for their -nephew's convenience, they almost feared that they should even now have -trespassed on the good old people's consideration. - -But Mary regretfully parted from the calm and silent spot, over which -the shades of evening were now fast gathering, imparting a still greater -air of solemn tranquillity to the scene. And often in days to come, when -the poignant anguish then and there so softened and assuaged, had again -died away, never to be recalled by the powers of memory--the place, and -the hour, would float back upon her recollection--like the oasis -amidst the parching sterility of the desert, to the grateful -traveller--divested of all but their vague soothing and pleasurable -associations. - -On their way back to Arthur's chamber door, they fell in with several of -his fellow students, just coming out of Hall. - -They all respectfully stepped aside, and made way for "Seaham and his -sister." - -Arthur had already rendered himself not only a most popular and general -favourite, but much respected, member of the Temple community, by his -sociable, engaging--yet at the same time, steady, gentlemanly, and -superior conduct and deportment. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - Oh, what authority and show of truth - Can cunning sin cover itself withal! - - SHAKESPEARE. - - - Thus men go wrong with an ingenious skill, - Bend the straight rule to their own crooked will. - - COWPER. - - -That same night, Arthur Seaham called on Eugene Trevor at the hotel, in -which he had easily ascertained the latter to be established. - -He did not entertain much hope of finding him at home at that hour, but -purposed proceeding there to demand an interview the following day. He -was more fortunate than he expected. - -He was told that Mr. Trevor was in the house, and it was not a little in -Eugene's favour (in the brother's eyes) that he found him seated in a -private room in the hotel, plunged in melancholy meditation, over the -remains of a solitary dinner. - -He looked up a little startled and surprised, when the name of his -visitor was announced; but immediately arose, and shook hands cordially -with the young man, expressing his pleasure at seeing him again. Then -when the waiter, who staid to clear the table, had withdrawn and closed -the door, and Arthur, who had replied to his greeting with somewhat of -distant gravity, had seated himself silently on an opposite chair, -Trevor at once, with eyes a little averted, said: - -"Seaham, I can well guess what business has brought you here to-night. -You come, of course, to speak upon the subject of your sister." - -"I have come _to-night, from_ my sister," was the calm, but somewhat -emphasized reply. - -"Indeed!" with a nervous uncertainty in his tone, which had not been -perceptible in his former utterance. "She, Mary, told you, I suppose, of -that most wretched meeting this afternoon." - -"She did," Arthur Seaham again coldly replied; "and it was the nature of -that meeting which made her desirous to communicate with you, through -me, feeling herself unequal to treat the subject, as fully and -satisfactorily as she had wished, by letter." - -He again paused; and Trevor fixed his eyes upon the young man's face in -anxious, agitated inquiry. - -"You cannot suppose," Arthur continued, with an effort at calm -moderation in his tone, "that the interview to which you allude was -calculated much to raise my sister's spirits, or throw much light on her -present clouded and uncertain prospects." - -Trevor bowed his head in moody assent. - -"You are quite right," he muttered gloomily, a darkness gathering over -his brow; "and it is but natural that you, her brother, should require, -and demand, further explanation and satisfaction." - -"_That_, I again repeat, is not the point which brought me here on _this -occasion_," Arthur rejoined. "I come, bound by a promise to my sister, -to speak and act this night, as in her name and person, therefore, you -can rest well assured," with a mingling of bitterness and tender feeling -in his tone, "that in her case no explanation or satisfaction is -required. No, rather, I have to assure you, that her trust and -confidence still remain unmoved, and only for your own sake does she now -desire and propose, that matters should be put on a more defined and -certain footing; either that she should not be suffered to stand any -longer in the way of your happiness or advantage, by the continuance of -your now vague and uncertain engagement, or----" - -But Trevor, with much eager agitation, at this point interrupted him. - -"Mary--your sister," he exclaimed, "she surely cannot, does not wish to -give me up?" - -The brother looked steadily into the speaker's face, as if to ascertain -that the emotion, which by his tone and manner bespoke the excitement -this suggestion had caused, was truthfully imaged there; and on the -whole he was not dissatisfied by the inspection; at least, if the deep -glow first overspreading his brow, and then the ashy paleness -succeeding, could be interpreted as corresponding signs of feeling; and -he replied, though with something of suppressed bitterness: - -"Her unselfish, womanly nature does not carry her so far. She is willing -to make any sacrifice of her own feelings, her happiness, her affections -if assured that it would tend to the removal of those--of course -unforeseen, difficulties and annoyances"--with some severe stress upon -the latter words, "which your engagement to her seems suddenly to have -been the means of scattering on your path. Or if not this," he hastily -added, as Trevor again made an effort to interrupt him, "or if not this, -at least she proposes that some definite period be assigned, during -which full opportunity and leisure be accorded you for the arrangement -or removal of the present obstacles to your marriage." - -Trevor rose abruptly, and for, several minutes paced the apartment in -agitated silence. Then he returned to his seat, and with more calm -determination addressed his companion. - -"Seaham!" he said, bending low his head as he spoke, with his downcast -eyes only at intervals raised from the ground, "Seaham, let me explain -to you a little the circumstances of my present position, and then you -will be better able to comprehend the embarrassing perplexity of my -affairs." - -Arthur looked up hopefully--now at least some light was to be thrown on -the impenetrable mystery of the few last months. - -"It is a painful subject," continued Trevor, speaking indeed as if with -difficulty; "but I must not shrink from breaking it now to you. You are -aware of the situation of my unfortunate brother?" - -Seaham murmured assent. - -"And therefore of the ambiguous position in which I at the same time -stand, with regard to my father's property--" - -Arthur again assented, but observed, that Mr. de Burgh had certainly -given him reason to suppose, that he--Mr. Eugene Trevor's possession of -the Montrevor property after his father's death--at least, in trust for -his elder brother, was almost a decided arrangement, and that his -inheritance to the most considerable part of his father's large fortune -was certain; but whether or not this were the case, his sister's friends -had been perfectly satisfied that even as a younger son, he must be -amply provided for. Eugene hastened to interrupt Arthur Seaham by -saying: - -"And believe me, when I declare, that till the day I parted from your -sister at Silverton, I never entertained a misgiving as to the -possibility of any such obstacle, as I then, to my dismay, found to -exist against the speedy completion of my marriage. The state of the -case is this: My father is, and has ever been, very peculiar in his -pecuniary views and arrangements. He has, as you were made to -understand, most surely, and decidedly favoured me, with regard to the -inheritance. I do stand in every possible respect in the position of an -elder son; but at the same time, he has more than nullified any present -advantage such an arrangement could procure for me, by having so -arranged his affairs, that during his lifetime I have, under the present -circumstances, no power to make any settlement on my wife." - -"Under what circumstances?" quietly demanded the embryo lawyer. - -"That brings me again to that one most painful point. If the present -state of my unfortunate brother was clearly ascertained, then, perhaps, -proceedings, from which our feelings in the first instance shrunk, might -be taken, which would effectually do away with the ambiguity of my -present circumstances and position." - -"And why cannot the fact you mention be ascertained?" persisted Arthur, -though in a tone of the most delicate consideration. - -"Because," answered Trevor, with a hesitation and embarrassment of -manner, which passed well for painful emotion, "because, for the last -few years, my brother has entirely eluded the _surveillance_ of his -friends and guardians. No clue can be found, no trace of him discovered. -Every search and enquiry has been--and still is in prosecution; some -doubts even are entertained as to his death." He paused; then passing -his hand over his brow, as if to prevent further discussion of a subject -against which his feelings sensitively shrank, he finally added: "My -lawyer will confirm what I have said, concerning the exertions I have -made on this point, if you like to refer to him," and he mentioned the -name and address of the family man of business. - -Arthur Seaham mused in silence for several minutes; then said: - -"I am therefore to understand, that during the life time of your father, -or till your brother's destination is ascertained, no further steps can -be taken with regard to your marriage. One circumstance rather surprises -me, that your father, aware as he must have been of the restraint thus -imposed upon your powers of making a settlement upon your wife, allowed -you to involve yourself so far in a matrimonial engagement. Nay, seemed -in a certain degree to favour, and encourage your design." - -"That" Trevor replied, "I fear is only to be understood by those, who -are as well acquainted with the peculiar points of my father's -disposition as myself. The quiet manner in which he took the -intelligence of my intended marriage, I own surprised me at the time, -knowing his extreme aversion to any measure, or proceeding, calculated -in the least degree, to touch upon his ruling passion, or as I may now -term it in his present stage of existence--his ruling weakness; that is -to say, any measure that would in the least degree disturb, or infringe -upon the close and arbitrary arrangements of his financial -affairs--arrangements which it is the one business of his existence to -maintain inviolate and undisturbed. I now discover how little cause I -had to thank him for his seemingly easy acquiescence in my intended -marriage, and that he has treated me," he added in a subdued and injured -tone, "far from well or kindly in the matter." - -"And you are entirely dependant on his--as it seems most tyrannical -pleasure?" demanded Seaham, an angry flush mounting to his brow; the -position in which the cruel, sordid, cunning of the old man's conduct -had placed his sister, making the most impression on his feelings. - -"Most unfortunately so!" was Trevor's reply; "it has been the aim, and -purpose, of my father's existence to render his children, and all those -with whom he had to do, as much as possible dependant on his most -arbitrary and capricious will. You would not think this perhaps, to -behold him now--to all appearance, that meek and mild old man. But so -it is; see him as I have lately seen him, on what was supposed to be his -dying bed, and you would then have full proof and specimen before your -eyes of the ruling passion strong in death." - -"From all this then--I am to conclude," said Arthur Seaham, "that one of -the two arrangements suggested by my sister are the only alternatives; -either," and he looked again steadily into Eugene's face, "that you give -up at once all further engagement." - -"To that!" interrupted Trevor, starting from his seat in sudden -excitement, "to that, tell your sister," he exclaimed passionately, "I -cannot, _will not consent_. Remind her of the promise she once made to -me upon the subject, and tell her, that on my part, no power on earth -shall compel me to give her up. No," he murmured, his eye gleaming -around from beneath his now darkened brow, as if seeking to address with -dark defiance some hidden foe, "no threats, no vengeful malice shall -ever force me to do that." - -Seaham regarded him with surprise, but thought to himself: "This man -certainly loves my sister with a strength and sincerity not to be -mistaken," and then with rather softened feeling, he said: - -"But you will agree perhaps to her other proposition?" - -"I do--I must," with eager energy, "there is as you observed, no other -alternative. Say, some months--perhaps a year. In that time much may be -effected." - -Trevor leant his elbow upon the mantelpiece, and pressed his brow upon -his hand, in unquiet thought. Seaham rose. - -"A year then," he repeated, "for a year, I may tell my sister you agree -to the necessity of postponing matters. During that time," he added with -marked significance, "I shall be constantly to be found in London." - -"And your sister?" Trevor eagerly demanded. - -"Mary will very shortly proceed to Scotland, where she may probably -remain some time with my sister who lives in Edinburgh." - -"What, so far?" Trevor exclaimed impatiently. - -"I cannot see," the brother replied with some _hauteur_, "that a greater -vicinity under present circumstances, would be either necessary or -desireable. Interviews for instance, such as the one by which my -sister's feelings were so distressed to-day, can be neither for her -happiness or advantage." - -Trevor had no more to say. He shook hands with Arthur, who appeared to -have no further desire to remain. Like one subdued and exhausted in mind -and body, almost silently he suffered the young man to take his leave. - -Seaham merely repeated that he should be found, or could be referred to -at any time at the Temple, and in a few moments had quitted the hotel. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - Let us then be up and doing, - With a heart for any fate, - Still achieving, still pursuing, - Learn to labour and to wait. - - LONGFELLOW. - - -In less than a fortnight from the period of this interview, Mary -escorted by her brother-in-law, Mr. Gillespie, who had been in London on -business, left England for Edinburgh. - -This plan was much more accordant with her state of feeling at this -period, than would have been that of accompanying her sister Agnes into -Wales, as the latter was so affectionately anxious she should have done. - -It would have been melancholy for her just then to have found her dear -old home, Glan Pennant, in the hands of strangers, and there is -something still more melancholy to the feelings in revisiting familiar -scenes, associated as they may be in the mind with naught but happy -careless memories, when over the spirit of our dream has passed like a -blight some subduing change, such as was now overshadowing Mary's -happiness. - - "It wrings the heart to see each thing the same, - Tread over the same steps, and then to find - The difference in the heart. It is so sad, - So very lonely to be the sole one - In whom there is a sign of change." - -Besides it was very long since she had seen her sister Alice, so tied to -home by her many domestic cares and duties. - -Agnes' life was one as yet all holiday enjoyment--her heart bounding -with delight at the prospect of an establishment in her beautiful -country home--in her own dear neighbourhood. - -"There was no sorrow in her note"--and Mary perceived and rejoiced in -the conviction that her younger sister's happiness needed no additional -weight. Next to being happy herself, she desired most the power of -bestowing happiness on others, and a real pleasure she knew would be her -presence to that excellent elder sister. She would seek in some degree -to aid and lighten her cares and avocations. It would have been better -perhaps had she gone there, long ago. But could she bring her heart to -accede to this assumption? - -Oh, no! not yet--not now--not ever could that be. - - "I hold it true, what'er betide, - I feel it when I sorrow most, - 'Tis better to have lov'd and lost - Than never to have loved at all." - -This, rather we assume, was the language of that faithful heart, still -clinging too tenderly to the intense happiness of the past, to grudge -the anguish of its bewildering reverse. - -Clouds had arisen to obscure the heaven of her certain happiness--her -once full hope had been deferred, but the day of despondency or of -sickening weariness had not yet arrived. - -Her lover's explanatory interview with her brother had effectually -cleared, from her all believing mind, many a vague dread and anxious -misgiving, which at one time were beginning to disturb her spirit; and -again she could set herself to wait patiently, buoyed up by her all -enduring love--her steadfast entire trust. But this hope, and trust, -beautiful in themselves, could they be set alone on the frail and -futile creature? - -"Hope in the Lord, wait patiently for Him, and he shall give thee thy -heart's desire. Commit thy way unto Him, and trust in Him, and He will -bring it to pass." - -Surely Mary's meek obedient soul, must have drawn its greatest strength -and patience from the dictates of this high and holy invocation. - -There was too, something perhaps most providentially salutary and -effective, in the atmosphere of the home, where at this particular -moment Mary had been led to take up her abode. - -Here in the example afforded by her sister Alice's adaptation, and -appropriation of herself--her tastes, and her talents, to that one -ultimate end of all, feelings and powers; the performance of her duty, -in that state of life which had been assigned to her--Mary's gentle -mind, too prone perhaps, by nature to rest in passive enjoyment, and in -the barren luxury of emotions, might receive a lesson, strengthening and -benificial for its future need. - - "That life is not all poetry - To gentle measures set," - - "That Heaven must be won, not dreamed." - -How a mind and character, that from amongst all her sisters, had been -the one most answering to her own, had effectually roused itself from -the shadowy Paradise of her earlier years, to meet the real demands of -life--to embrace its actual duties, and defy its uncongenial pains--and -not only this, but to find therein, more than in the pleasanter summer -paths of earlier days, or in those refined indulgences in which her -spirit still loved at times to cherish, true happiness and peace. - - "I have found peace in the bright earth, - And in the sunny sky, - I have found it in the summer seas, - And where dreams murmur by. - - "I find it in the quiet tone - Of voices that I love, - By the flickering of a twilight fire, - And in a leafless grove. - - "I find it in the silent flow - Of solitary thought, - In calm, half-meditated dreams, - And reasonings self-taught. - - "But seldom have I found such peace - As in the soul's deep joy, - Of passing onward free from harm, - Through every day's employ." - -And even her brother-in-law, Mr. Gillespie, though of a less kindred -soul, and with those matter of fact and prosaic points of -character--attributes in his case, both national and professional. Even -in his companionship, she found something bracing and effectual, such as -she might not have done with more yielding and indulgent friends. - -Her darling brother--it had been her former happy dream to pass her -unmarried days in his companionship; and she might have been with him -now, had it not been deemed, at present, neither convenient or -expedient. - -She must in that case have shared her brother's chambers in London; and -at her age, and under her peculiar circumstances, such an arrangement -could scarcely be available, without being an interruption to her -brother's important studies and pursuits, though he would have made any -present sacrifice for his sister's sake. - -Ah, yes! or why did he turn his eyes so steadily from a sight so -fascinating to his heart as was that cherub face, which often looked -down upon him from a pew of the Temple Church--or bravely resist the -flattering attention and repeated hospitalities of the eminent counsel, -that cherub's father, in whose house-- - - "He saw her upon nearer view, - A spirit, but a woman too," - -and who seemed in every way inclined to bestow her notice on the -promising, agreeable student of the Middle Temple? - -Why?--but because he determined to allow no cherub face to usurp the -foremost place in his affections, no "ladye love," with form however -beautiful, to become the reigning, mistress of his house and hearth -until that beloved sister of his youth had secured a dearer, better -home. - -Besides, under any circumstances, he was not such a fool as to think of -marrying for many a year yet; a pretty business it would be if over the -dingy pages of Blackstone, and the year book, was for ever flitting the -bewitching, radiant face of Carrie Elliott. - -Thus, then, for a time shall we leave our heroine, whose fortunes, like -the gentle flowing course of a glistening river, we have hitherto so -undeviatingly pursued; whilst we turn aside, not willingly, to trace -through their darker, wilder mazes, the fate and fortunes of those two -beings, whom an inscrutable Providence had ordained should hold such -important influence over her destiny. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - Farewell; and if a soul where hatred's gall - Melts into pardon, that embalmeth all, - Can with forgiveness bless thee; from remorse - Can pluck the stone which interrupts the course - Of thought to God; and bid the waters rest - Calm in Heaven's smile--poor fellow-man, be blest! - - THE NEW TIMON. - - -Eugene Trevor was fated to encounter another interview of importance -before he laid down to rest that night, or rather morning, succeeding -the meeting with Arthur Seaham. - -He had gone forth, very soon after the departure of the latter, to seek -diversion for his disturbed and troubled spirit by excitement--that most -common resource of man under similar circumstances--offered in the shape -of those amusements belonging to the sporting club of which he was a -member. - -He returned to the hotel more than one hour after midnight, to be -informed that a gentleman was waiting to see him on particular business. - -"At this time of night?" was the impatient reply. "Who in the world can -it be?" - -The gentleman had not given his name; he had come more than two hours -ago, but had expressed his intention of remaining to await Mr. Trevor's -return. - -Eugene, with a certain uncomfortable feeling of misgiving at his heart, -proceeded to the apartment into which his unseasonable visitor had been -shown. Two candles burnt dimly on the table. Dark, pale, haggard, as the -imperfect light gleamed upon his features, looked the lover of the -gentle Mary, thus returning from those midnight excitements in which he -had plunged to dispel too haunting thoughts and vivid memories connected -with her pure and holy image; but a something of strange and startled -wildness was added to their expression, as his eyes fixed themselves -first uncertainly--and then gradually and clearly identified the face -and form of him who stood up to receive him--that tall, commanding form, -before which his own seemed to shrink into insignificance--that face, -as pale as was his own, but from before whose calm, steady gaze his eyes -for an instant quailed so fearfully. - -"Eustace!"--"Eugene!" were the only words or signs of greeting exchanged -between them, and Trevor, as if momentarily overcome by the emotions -excited by the _rencontre_ with his mysterious visitor, sank upon a -chair by the table, and with perturbed and agitated demeanour, passed -his burning hand across his heated brow; whilst the other still stood -erect, looking down upon him with that stern and steady eye, almost -appalling in its intensity. - -"To what am I indebted for this visit?" Eugene murmured at length, in -hoarse and sullen accents, slightly lifting up his head. "I thought--" - -"You thought," replied the same deep, rich voice we last heard sounding -(though then in very different accents,) upon the Welsh hill side in -Mary Seaham's ear. "You thought, Eugene, that before this coming dawn, -many leagues of sea would be between us. And so it would have been, had -you not your own self broken the promise which bound me to that vow." - -"Pshaw!" was the reply, in accents of impatient irony "a mere -accidental, unavoidable meeting, whose only fruit was the further to -overwhelm with despairing wretchedness her, for whose happiness and -welfare you profess such _disinterested_ regard." - -"Yes!" was the calm, unmoved reply. "I saw her face turned towards me at -the time, that face I had used to behold serene, happy, innocent as the -angels in Heaven, and in its woeful change I read--" - -"Your own most righteous work," interrupted Eugene, with a bitter -mocking laugh. "Had you seen her some time past, before the day when -you, like a spirit of evil, stepped in between us, you might have beheld -a sight which perhaps had pleased you even less; that angel face -brightened and beautified by her love for _me_." - -"You are right, it would have pleased me even less, it would have seemed -to my eyes, like the dove spreading her silver plumes, all glittering in -the treacherous sunshine, to meet the vulture who has marked it for its -prey. Yet to-day, I seemed not to read upon that pale and tear-stained -countenance, the mere passing misery of the moment--that misery of -which I wish not to deny having been myself the inflictor--but that -which I might have seen--that which I once saw settled on a mother's -face; or still more haunting, terrible, impression, the despairing -misery one might image of a fallen angel, dragged down from her high -estate, by an unholy, unnatural alliance with a spirit of another -sphere. For, Eugene, your own heart, your own conscience must convict -you, that light with darkness, righteousness with unrighteousness, -Christ with Belial, have as much in common, as yourself, your nature, -your life, your principles, have to do with those of Mary Seaham; and -that to unite yourself with her, would be, I repeat, either to draw her -down to your own level--or, more blessed alternative, to break her -heart. But both of these destinies I had hoped to have seen averted. You -had assured me, it was easier for you to resign that 'mess of pottage' -as you slightingly denominated the inestimable treasure your soul had -greedily, but more harmlessly marked as your own, than the birthright of -which you were iniquitously possessed. You had assured me, that you -would find plausible means--and in that, I doubted not your powers, or -your will, if it were but to serve your own interest--to break off, not -only your engagement, but all further communication with Mary Seaham; -but, Eugene, I _doubt_ you. My back once turned--my _espionage_ -abandoned, as I promised it should be, from the time I set my foot on -another shore, what will there then be to bound or restrain your -grasping, avaricious desires. I shall find myself twice trampled in the -dust, and Mary," his voice trembled as he spoke, "she whom I would save -from a fate, in my eyes, worse than death, she become your prize, your -sacrifice, your victim." - -He whom Eustace thus severely addressed, retained a moment's moody -defiant silence. - -"Your intention then, is to remain in England," he said at length, with -an assumption of haughty unconcern, though there might be perceived a -quivering of the eyelids, and an expression of anxious perturbation in -his downcast glance. "The old man," with trembling irony in his tone, -"will doubtless receive you gladly, and there will be nothing to retard -the nuptials of Mary and myself." - -"No, nothing, if she--if Mary Seaham can consent to wed the man"--he -slightly unbared his wrist--"the man who has done this--the man whose -name must henceforth ring in her ears as a proverb, a reproach, a -by-word through the paths of society--the man whose very children shall -rise up and scorn him--whom God and man must alike reprobate and -condemn." - -Eugene Trevor shrank back as from before some deadly serpent discovered -to his view. His eye quailed fearfully--his lips and cheek became of a -livid, ashy hue. - -"Eustace," he murmured, in a voice of almost abject -deprecation--"Eustace, your feelings of revenge and hatred carry you too -far. You have repented of the agreement made between us, and have come -thus to threaten and intimidate me. _I_ never meant to draw back from my -part of the engagement; but if my promise has no weight in your -consideration, how am I to give you further pledge of my sincerity? I -swear to you," he continued, eagerly, "that, during the meeting to-day -with Mary Seaham, into which I was accidentally surprised, I held out no -hope--no promise which could give her reason to suppose that the -obstacle to our marriage could now or ever be removed. We parted with -that understanding; and to-night," he spoke in a low and hurried voice, -"she sent her brother here to break off our engagement, which could only -be maintained on such uncertain, uncomfortable terms." - -"And you consented?" - -"What else had I to do?" - -"Now may Heaven be praised," was the low, deep, earnest answer--the -voice of the speaker swelling as into a strain of rich, clear music; -whilst with upraised eyes, and countenance lit up with holy adoration, -he thus ejaculated: "Now Heaven be praised, who sends His angels to -protect his little ones from the powers and spirits of darkness! -Eugene," he proceeded, again turning to his companion, but with a -subdued and softened expression, "you, too, thank your God, that from -this additional sin you have been mercifully preserved; from that -offence which it were better that a millstone were hung about your neck -than that you should commit. You, too, have your reward: take it. I -leave it in your hands. I will trouble you no more. Home, name, country, -and heritage, I willingly resign; but remember, on that one condition. -Retain it only inviolate, for from the ends of the world, its broken -faith, its most secret violation, would recall me. Farewell, Eugene! -Should we never meet again on earth, believe that I forgive you all -offences against me. Nor put down either to revenge, or even _madness_, -that which He who seeth the heart will, I humbly trust, justify in the -eyes of men and angels, before His judgment throne, on the last great -day of account; and there and then, where sin and wrong, and -wretchedness, shall be done away, may we both meet sanctified, -reconciled, and renewed." - -He was gone. No other parting sign was given; and he, who had now added -one more sin to the already dark catalogue of his offences, the purchase -of his freedom from a dreaded evil by a lie, was left darkling and -alone. - -As those two had met, so they parted--those two men whom our readers may -already have divined were brothers. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - True, earnest sorrows; rooted miseries; - .... vexations, ripe and blown, - Sure-footed griefs; solid calamities; - Plain demonstrations, evident and clear, - Touching their proofs e'en from the very bone-- - These are the sorrows here. - - HERBERT. - - -More than six and thirty years have passed since Mr. Trevor, the present -proprietor of Montrevor, had taken to himself a wife, young, lovely, of -good family, and endowed with much excellence, both of mind and -disposition. - -Miss Mainwaring had consented, in obedience to her parents' wishes, to -bestow her hand upon this rich and handsome suitor, death having -deprived her of the first object of her young affections. - -Of a gentle and confiding disposition, she had not doubted but that one -so pleasing and gentlemanly in his manners and demeanour in society, so -assiduous and devoted in his attentions during courtship, would prove an -amiable, affectionate husband; and that in resigning her future destiny -into his hands, she was securing to herself that calm happiness to -which, (the first bright dreams of youth mellowed and subdued), she -alone aspired. - -Her trust was deceived--her hopes disappointed; too soon was it revealed -to her sick heart that Henry Trevor, the courteous and agreeable member -of society, was not the same Henry Trevor of domestic life; that Henry -Trevor the lover, was a very different person to Henry Trevor the -husband; that she had been wedded--for her beauty?--no; woman's natural -vanity might have forgiven that:--for her fortune? no; that was -comparatively insignificant to count much, even in the close -calculations of him, into whose well-stored coffers it was carelessly -flung:--for her gentle virtues, her superior qualities of mind?--no,--no -abstract love of these had had their part in her lover's choice; but -because in the submissive spirit--in the mild and gentle character of -her he saw as one - - "By suffering made sweet and meek," - -he had thought to find a fitting subject for his purpose and his -will--one easy to be bent, moulded, crushed, if it were necessary, into -the slave and minister of his favourite lust--his ruling passion--his -besetting sin--the grasping, covetous, all-devouring love of money! - -Scared and dismayed at the prospect opened, like some dark gulf so -suddenly before her eyes, Mrs. Trevor yielded nevertheless, not without -an effort, to the fate into which she had been betrayed. She had that -within her, a degree of sense and spirit, which moved her in her early -marriage days to use the gentle influence she hoped in some degree to -have obtained over her husband's affections; to effect some change in -the general system of affairs she saw daily growing up around her, as -well as to assert and maintain her own gentle dignity and comparative -independence as a woman and a wife. - -Alas! she knew not the nature of the being with whom she had to cope; it -was but as the falcon-hunted dove, fluttering within the fowler's -snare, or beneath the vulture's claw, the cords are but the tighter -drawn--the grasp more crushingly extended, till the victim feeling his -impotence to resist, resigns itself powerless to its fate. Mrs. Trevor -struggled no more. All thought of influence was at an end, except indeed -that which her gentle virtues, her submissive tears, like the droppings -of water upon a stone, might in time be permitted to effect. - -Her wounded affections withdrew into the still sanctuary of her own -mind, whilst in patient meekness she performed her duties as a wife. -This was all Mr. Trevor required. He had gained his point; he had bent -her to his will. She superintended and accommodated herself to the close -and grinding economy he exacted in his house. She sacrificed all -extravagant tastes, all expensive inclinations, bestowed charity and -kindness alone from the resources of her own scanty, grudgingly-accorded -allowance. Even in her less responsible requirements she gave him full -satisfaction. - -Mrs. Trevor bore to her husband just three sons--healthy, -promising boys--none of those superfluous, money-frittering -excrescences--daughters! These sons all were disposable, convertible to -some aim or end. There was the heir--that necessary machine to keep the -greedily-preserved fortune and property in future train; there was a -second son to secure the good fat family living from escaping into -extraneous hands, and there was yet another to place in the lucrative -and distinguished banking-house, in which Mr. Trevor was a sleeping -partner. Yes, in this she had done well and wisely, and the husband was -in the end content. But in the first instance, even here, he was not -entirely satisfied with his wife's conduct. Nature had rebelled against -the young mother's affording nourishment to her eldest born. Other aid -was required, and this unwarrantable and unnecessary infraction upon the -rules and exactions of maternity, sank the parent considerably in her -lord and master's valuation and esteem. The second time she proved more -successful--oh, how fully successful, if to that success were to be -attributed not only the pure health, the more refined vigour of body -which distinguished the mother's own nursling above his eldest brother, -the suckling of a farmer's burly daughter; but that nobler nature, -those high-toned qualities of mind and disposition, which grew with his -growth and strengthened with his years--and oh, how too successful if -from that mother's breast he imbibed his own sad heritage of suffering -and of wrong! - -On the third, and last occasion, which presented itself, the face of -affairs assumed a different aspect. Mr. Trevor, either because he -grudged his wife as would not have been at all inconsistent with his -character, the extreme pleasure she experienced in the former case, and -the excessive fondness with which this child had naturally wound itself -around its nursing mother's heart. Whether from these, or still more -unworthy notices, this time Mr. Trevor, on some capricious arbitrary -plea, objected to his wife indulging in the same natural enjoyment, -himself selecting the individual, who was to supplant her in this -office. The wife of a tenant on his estate, about to emigrate to -Australia, but who preferred remaining behind for some years in service. - -Mabel Marryott fulfilled her hired duties well by her patron's infant; -so well, that according to her master's orders, she was afterwards -retained, as general superintendant of the nursery establishment, though -her influence did not long continue limited to that office; and it was -Mabel Marryott, whose daily business it soon became, to attend upon the -little Eugene in his morning visits to his father's study; where -sometimes, for an hour together, upon table or floor, as accorded best -with his age, or fancy, he sat and played the mimic miser, with his -favourite toys--the shining heaps of glittering gold or silver, always -produced on these occasions, to amuse and keep him quiet; whilst in that -distant room above, where we have seen the unconscious Mary spend so -happy an hour, sat the wife and mother, struggling with the inward -anguish of an injured, wounded spirit, or straining the little Eustace -to her heart, calling him, in deep, earnest accents of endearment, her -darling--her own boy--her precious nursling; beseeching him never to -forsake her, to stand by his own mother--to love, and to protect her, -till the boy's dark, fervent eyes, would suffuse with tears, and he -would promise, with the little full and throbbing heart beating against -her breast, always to be "mamma's own boy," and never to leave her even -when he was a man; and the heir--he, in the meantime, had probably made -his escape to the stable-yard, to the grooms and stable-boys, for whose -society he, from his earliest days, shewed much inclination, to the -danger both of his neck and his morals, by the lessons in horse-riding -or loose talking he there received--tastes and propensities with which -his mother found herself powerless to interfere. Mrs. Marryott did not -object. Master Trevor was neither a manageable or engaging child; these -tastes and habits took him off her hands; Mr. Trevor saw only that they -made the boy bold and healthy. They were propensities and amusements -which cost him nothing; so he desired that he might not be pestered any -more by the representations of his anxious mother; she might make one -milksop if she wished, but leave the other alone; Marryott would see he -came to no real harm. - -The boy was to go to Eton when he was twelve. He might, his father -continued, be allowed to take his own course till then; and Mrs. Trevor, -though not suffered to interfere in any other department, was expected -to take upon herself the arduous office of instructress to this one, as -well as to her other two boys, who were also to be kept at home till -they had attained the before-mentioned age. - -Mr. Trevor had no idea of his wife's talents being put to no better -purpose than the solace and amusement of her own lonely, joyless -existence; and the poor lady was too willing to enter on a task, which -promised a means of drawing her children towards her in closer -intercourse than was otherwise permitted. Such was the cruel jealousy, -which dared to prevent the mother from acquiring too great an influence -and ascendancy over the children's affections. - -Long, however, before the time assigned, Mrs. Trevor was forced to -represent to the father her insufficiency and unfitness for the duty -imposed upon her. - -The thick-headed, mulish-tempered Henry, his heart and mind ever with -his dogs and horses, very soon began to require some stronger hand and -firmer will than she possessed to force him into any degree of -application; whilst the two other boys, the one high-spirited and -talented in the extreme--the younger taught to look upon his mother in -little better light than that of a slighted and despised -dependant--became even earlier, above or beyond her strength and power -for the work. - -But in vain might she remonstrate. - -"You are idle, you are idle," was all the answer or relief she obtained. - -So she began again, and persevered--much to the wear and tear of body -and nerves. But that was nothing. It was an employment--and should have -been an interest and amusement rather than an hardship. - -And so the mother laboured on with all a mother's patience and -long-suffering, bearing rather than contending against the many -difficulties and discouragements which beset the task. - -One rich reward was its attendant--the satisfactory fruit which crowned -her efforts, however comparatively weak and inefficient they might be, -as concerned her noble son, Eustace; not but that pain and trouble of a -certain kind were her portion, even here. But it was a pleasureable -pain, how exceeded by the ample recompense it afforded. - -What fervent gratitude--what deep, strong affection did every tear she -shed, every sigh she breathed in his cause, fan into life, water into -vigour in that young pupil's breast! How was she adored, revered, upheld -supreme at least in the heart of one being in the world. - -Eustace Trevor, as those of generous and superior natures generally are -found to be, was a child of naturally impetuous disposition and -independent spirit. Though full of genius, and promise of bright things -to come, it could not be but that he sometimes grieved his gentle -teacher, and gave her patient spirit pain. - -But ah, the contrite grief; the self-indignant sorrow of the child which -ever followed on such occasions; how was he prostrate in body and spirit -before the beloved being, whom he had so offended. How the elder brother -dull, and unrefined in feeling, rather than unamiable at heart, would -stare with stupid amazement at such animated demonstrations in the -penitent; whilst the younger--what a glance of cold surprise from his -dark eye--what a look almost of disdain in his young countenance, as he -sat, and watched, and wondered to see such affection--such zeal -displayed in the cause of one he was used to behold, so scorned, so -slighted so dishonoured, by those who had gained ascendancy over his -young mind. - -It was worth while to love his father--to seek to please and propitiate -him--or even Mabel Marryott. But _she_! what could she do? what -influence, did _she_ possess over her children, or any one else either -for good or evil? - -Yet the boy Eugene was by no means an unaffectionate or unengaging -child, nor devoid of amiability of character; had it not been for the -early influences which impressed, and moulded his mind and disposition. - -His father and Mabel Marryott both loved him in their way; the former -suffering him to win a greater ascendancy over his close shut heart, -than that which any other individual ever attained. Nay, to him he even -relaxed in some degree his strongest, and most guarded point of -impregnability--his purse strings. - -When his elder brothers as children, obtained their grudgingly acceded -shillings and sixpences, the more valuable crown piece, or sometimes -half-sovereign was bestowed upon the favoured Eugene--to be triumphantly -produced at the neighbouring town, where he occasionally rode with his -brother Eustace, for the gratification of any taste or appetite, in -which he might choose to indulge; whilst the other expended his scanty -store on some trifling gift he thought might gratify, or please his much -loved mother. Yes, this was the most galling of all poor Mrs. Trevor's -catalogue of grievances--the unjust and cruel partiality exhibited by -her husband in the treatment of these two younger boys; for the eldest, -Henry, though neither favoured or in any way much regarded by his -father, at any rate met with neither injustice or unkindness--inasmuch -as neither his nature or propensities, rendered him worthy or desirous -of any greater degree of privilege or advantage, than he obtained--and -he was sent to Eton at thirteen, when all that was to be done for him -was done, that was necessary and proper. But the second son, -Eustace--whether it was the boy's disposition, so antagonistic in every -respect to his father's; or that it was her own unfortunate attachment -to this child, or that child's love for herself which drew upon his -innocent head this unhappy distinction; whether it was this cruel -jealousy on her husband's part, or the secret influence on the same, -account, of her insidious enemy, Mabel Marryott. However it might be, a -spirit and system, it might almost be termed persecution, was maintained -by the father towards this son from his childhood upwards. He felt -doubtless too the reflection, which the zealous love of the boy for his -mother cast upon his own conduct in that respect. Never did Mr. Trevor -forgive a proof of this spirit, shown forth by the young Eustace in the -instance we are about to record. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - Is there not - A reverence in the very name of "mother" - Could thrill the ruffian purpose? - - SHIEL. - - - He is the second born of flesh - And is his mother's favourite. - - BYRON. - - -It was Eugene's birthday. He had coaxed Marryott to give him a treat of -cakes and fruit in the garden summer-house. His brothers were invited, -and even his father honoured the party with his presence. - -Marryott presided over the entertainment. Eustace had been out of the -way, and did not arrive until the others were assembled. He made his -appearance at the banquet all bright, animated expectation, having but -just heard of the unwonted indulgence provided him, and prepared to -partake in it with full boyish enjoyment. - -But at the threshold he paused. By one quick glance, his eye had taken -in each individual of the collected group. A sudden thought seemed to -press upon the wild beatings of his heart. A cloud overshadowed the -quick brightness of his brow. - -"Come along, Eustace!" cried the boy Eugene, "if you mean to come at -all." - -But no, he did not stir. There he stood, rooted to the spot, his -changing countenance betokening the struggle of strong feeling passing -through his breast, another glance--from which shot forth a gleam of -noble fire--around, and then his dark, full eye fixed itself with calmer -sternness upon his young brother's face. - -"No, thank you, Eugene," he said firmly, "I cannot come. My mother she -is all alone in the house. I must go to _her_," and instantly he turned, -and - - "Went away with a step strong and slow, - His arch'd lip press'd, and his clear eye undimmed, - As if it were a diamond, and his form - Borne proudly up, as if his heart breathed through." - -On one occasion, Mrs. Trevor heard the voice of her husband raised in -long and angry accents. She listened with trembling misgiving as to the -object of his reprehension, but when to words sounds succeeded, plainly -betokening bodily chastisement, she could no longer refrain, but -hastened to the spot from whence they proceeded. - -It was Mr. Trevor's study, and on opening the door and entering, she -found indeed her beloved boy Eustace under the hands of his father -undergoing severe and painful punishment; Eugene standing by like a -young Saul, witnessing the martyrdom of a Saint Stephen, holding his -brother's coat over his arm, a little pale perhaps, but watching with a -tolerably cold and steady eye the proceedings of the parental -persecution. - -The look and tone of sore distress with which the gentle intercessor -supplicated for mercy, shamed even the unloving husband into compliance. - -He released his victim, who turned aside with tearless eyes, but every -vein of his noble brow swollen with suppressed anguish. - -But every thought of his own suffering or disgrace seemed soon to be -forgotten in the pain and grief he saw upon his mother's countenance, as -with trembling voice she made inquiry into the offence which had called -down such unwonted severity upon the culprit. - -"He is a squandering spendthrift," was the father's reply; "and you, -Madam, with your fine ideas and lessons, have helped to make him so; but -I will teach him better. He was at the same trick once before, and I -warned him of the consequences. A long time will it be before he gets -another shilling from me, to waste upon a set of rascally vagabonds -lurking about the premises, seeking what they may devour." - -"Mother!" said the boy firmly, "they were a party of poor mechanics, -turned out of their homes and deprived of all means of getting their -bread. One man carried his poor little girl, dying from starvation, in -his arms; what better could I do?" - -Another sharp blow from the father cut short the explanation, and -Eustace was ordered to leave the room, not to approach his mother, or -touch a morsel of food, save bread and water, for the remainder of the -day. - -The boy obeyed in silence, but with a bursting heart, and Mrs. Trevor -remained to listen, in resigned sorrow, to the anathemas poured forth -against her darling--of his evil and corrupt dispositions, and the -fearful predictions, that she would live one day to see him turn out the -disgrace and ruin of the family. - -"Only see, Madam, in this one instance the difference between these two -boys. Eugene, bring your money-box." - -The boy, with complacent alacrity, produced a small casket, and opening -it with a key attached to a ribbon round his neck, exhibited indeed a -shining store of silver pieces, slightly interspersed with gold. - -"Eugene is indeed a rich boy," the mother observed very gravely. - -"Yes, and a good, and wise, and prudent boy, and he shall be richer -still some of these days; I will see to that. Yes, _he_ can--he may -afford to be generous; he knows how to bestow his gifts in the right -direction. Eugene, show your mother what I have allowed you to buy out -of your savings for your attached and valued friend." - -The boy, in the same manner as before, uncovered a parcel lying on the -table, and thereby displayed a roll of rich and handsome silk. - -"Is it not beautiful, mamma?" he exclaimed innocently; "it is for -Marryott; this is her birthday you know." - -Mrs. Trevor's lip quivered. She looked pale, and turned away her head. - -When were _her_ birthdays so remembered? - -"May I take it to her, papa?" - -"Yes, yes, take it away, boy!" said Mr. Trevor, rather impatiently; and -Eugene, proudly shouldering his offering, marched off triumphantly with -it to Marryott's apartments. - -A silent pause ensued. It was broken by Mrs. Trevor, quietly suggesting -the advisability of a more regular and impartial allowance being -bestowed upon the two younger boys, remarking that she feared the -present arrangement was likely to be prejudicial to the characters of -both, perhaps to their future conduct through life. - -The mother spoke more firmly, more courageously than usual. Perhaps the -incident which had just been enacted, had a little hardened and -strengthened her spirit for the encounter. But her words were of little -avail. - -"Not at all, not at all," was the angry interruption. "Allow me, Madam, -to act as I please on that point. I give what I please, and withhold -what I please, as I see fit and proper; and I have found out pretty well -before to-day, that whilst I could trust one boy with a whole bank of -money, the other is not, nor ever will be, worthy to possess one -shilling of his own. I shall, therefore, act accordingly, and beg you -will not attempt to interfere upon the subject; it is my department, not -yours." - -Mrs. Trevor could only sigh, and was about to retire. But no. She must -first undergo another ordeal. - -The door opened, and Eugene re-appeared, attended by Marryott. - -"She is so pleased, papa, and so obliged," cried the boy, "and is come -to thank you." - -Mrs. Trevor arose with gentle dignity. - -Mabel Marryott had not been apprised of her mistress' presence in the -library, but the expression of her well-disciplined countenance--that -"face formed to conceal"--scarcely evinced this fact as she paused upon -the threshold, and with the utmost composure and respect, apologised for -her intrusion; but begged to be allowed to express her grateful thanks -for the beautiful present which her dear master Eugene had just brought -to her. It was much too handsome for her, appealing with the greatest -deference to Mrs. Trevor; but she would gladly wear it for her dear -boy's sake. - -"Do--do so, Marryott, it is Eugene's present--quite his own," Mr. Trevor -replied with some embarrassment of manner. - -"Indeed, Sir?" with the utmost simplicity; "well, I must say, he is -always a dear generous child," and she stooped and kissed the boy, who -rather unwillingly submitted to his nurse's fondling. Mrs. Trevor knew -that this was the same woman, who had so short a time ago betrayed her -generous child Eustace, to the unjust anger of his father, and there was -something in this present demonstration of affection towards this other, -which went greatly against her feelings. - -She rose--never with all her provocations, was her mild ladylike -deportment laid aside, and said: - -"Eugene, dear, open the door for me; I am going up-stairs." - -The boy, though unaccustomed to any such _exigeant_ demands on his -respectful attention, from his mother, nor trained to yield them -unasked, shook off Marryott's arm, still encircling his waist, and -willingly obeyed, running to comply with the request. Mrs. Trevor left -the room as Eustace had done not long before, in silence, and with a -swelling heart, whilst Mrs. Marryott's glance after her retreating -figure, seemed to ask what was the meaning of this undue assumption of -importance in her unassuming mistress. - - * * * * * - -The same partial fate which attended the young Eustace under his -father's roof, extended itself to his life at school. In the rather -inferior establishment to which he, and his younger brother were -sent--one very unworthy and inefficient to develope the genius and -talent, inherent in the boy--qualities which nevertheless struggled -forth, spite of all disadvantages, into life and power, too little -appreciated by others--there the favour of the sycophant master, was -lavished exclusively on the rich father's favourite, to the apparent -detriment and depreciation of the other. The high and generous spirit of -the boy, was reported as ill-disposed and unruly, and treated -accordingly with severity, or more properly speaking, tyranny and -injustice. - -A crushing or hardening effect upon the mind and character, must have -inevitably been the result of such a process, had it not been for the -superior nature of the being upon whom it worked; to say nothing of that -counter charm which ever lay upon his heart, a talisman against the -power of every evil influence--his mother's love. But there was one -effect produced by the state of things we have endeavoured to show -forth, which could not be averted. We mean the seed of future misery, -thereby sown between the youthful brothers. - -In early childhood there had subsisted between them an affection almost -bordering upon enthusiasm, remarkable in children of their age; in the -younger how soon, like every other good and truthful inclination of his -heart and character, contracted and undermined by the still more -pernicious influence to which by his different circumstances he was -exposed. It might have been supposed that were the invidious feelings of -envy, or jealousy, to be engendered in either mind by the system of -partiality to which they were subjected in such a lamentable degree, it -would have been in that of the least favoured; but jealousy belonged not -to the noble nature of Eustace. - -Sad surprise--indignant risings in his breast against the injustice of -his father's conduct, were the consequence, but no invidious feeling -against the rival object himself. That one indeed, he would ever have -loved and cherished, borne with and forgiven, as in those young days, -whilst any evidence of brotherly feeling was given in exchange. But -no--it was the favoured one, as we often see to be the case--the rich -and favoured one, who began to envy his poorer brother, even the scanty -portion which fell to his share. - -And of what was there in those early days that Eugene could envy -Eustace? - -What but that boon, which though influenced outwardly to despise--his -inherent taste for the good and beautiful, caused him secretly to covet, -above every other gift--the fervent love which he saw bestowed by his -despised, but angelic mother, on the child, whose affection drew it so -freely forth--love how ready to be poured as largely on his own head, -but for the barrier of slight, coldness, and constraint she saw so soon -interposed between herself and that else equally beloved child. - -Oh! the pain, to mark the glances of that dark, clear eye grow cold and -dim, when turned upon her--the once open brow - - "Cloud with mistrust, and the unfettered lip - Curled with the iciness of constant scorn." - -But all this belongs more properly to a later, and, alas! darker period -of the lives of those it is our task to trace, and to which we must -hasten forward; that period, in which boyhood merges into manhood, and -the seed sown for good or ill springs forth, and bears--some thirty, -some sixty, and some an hundred-fold. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - Have I not had to wrestle with my lot? - Have I not suffered things to be forgiven? - Have I not had my brain sear'd, my heart riven? - - BYRON. - - -It was Mr. Trevor's good pleasure to bestow the church living in his -gift upon his second son. On the same principle, we suppose--as it was -the fashion, at that period--more we trust than in the present time--for -the least promising and least talented of a family to be devoted to the -sacred service of the church--did the father, we conclude, in the -present instance select for this purpose the son least esteemed and -honoured in his eyes, without any regard to the inclinations of his own -heart, or his fitness for that vocation. - -Eustace Trevor was sent to College, on as small an allowance as could in -decency be accorded, and commanded there to prepare himself for Holy -Orders. - -How can we describe the trials, the struggles, the discouragements which -beset the path of one who, under more propitious circumstances, might -have passed on to such high and distinguished grades of honour and -distinction? - -His noble character and conspicuous talents, drew down upon him the -love, admiration, and honour of those around him; yet to some degree the -galling hand which had laid heavy on his boyhood oppressed his powers -even then. - -Great and good as was the young man's nature, - - "Temptation hath a music for all ears, - And mad ambition triumpheth to all, - And the ungovernable thought within - Will be in every bosom eloquent." - -The very superiority of Eustace Trevor's nature, his high, and serious -estimate of the holy nature of the profession which had been forced upon -him, soon caused the youth to recoil with conscientious horror from -embracing it upon such terms. He laid his scruples before his father, -who with contemptuous indignation told him he might then starve, or beg, -for by no other means should he obtain from him a farthing of -subsistence--and his mother, whilst she sympathized in his feelings on -the subject, still encouraged and besought him to make himself worthy of -the sacred vocation, and bring down those high thoughts and aspirations -which rendered it incompatible with his desires. - -This was the substance of her mild, soft pleadings in the anxious cause: - - "My son, oh leave the world alone! - Safe on the steps of Jesus' throne - Be tranquil and be blest." - -Encouraged by this strong persuasion, Eustace Trevor promised for her -dear sake to do all in his power to satisfy her solicitude, and -reconcile his own conscience on the point. - -Eugene in the meantime was given a place in the great banking -establishment before alluded to, a position which only served to throw -the young man in the way of all the temptations and dissipations of a -London life, and rather to overthrow those expectations of Mr. Trevor, -as to the money saving propensities of his favourite. - -In his fondness for money, he might indeed show himself a worthy son of -his father, for to attain it by all attainable means soon became his -actual object. Yet to whatever pitch this inclination might arrive in -later years, in these his days of youthful folly, "to spend and not to -hoard," was certainly his distinguishing propensity; thus affording his -father plentiful opportunities for displaying to the full, the partial -injustice of his conduct towards his younger children. - -One of the most striking instances in this particular was exhibited a -few years after the establishment of Eustace at College, when Eugene was -about nineteen. The latter unexpectedly one summer evening arrived at -Montrevor from London, in no very happy state of mind. - -Gambling was unfortunately one of the pleasures, or more properly -speaking passions, which assailed the young man most strongly in this -early part of his career. He had just lost a considerable sum of money -at the late Derby; and this was the first time that he found himself -obliged to confess this delinquency to his father, and apply for the -amount necessary for the payment of the debt of honour thus incurred. - -He could scarcely flatter himself that Mr. Trevor's hitherto partial -favour could avail him in a case of such unwonted enormity. Forfeiture -of that favour, perhaps a refusal of his application; anger, disgrace at -home, ignominy, dishonour abroad, all stared him in the face. Eugene -entered the house at night, and went straight to Mabel Marryott's -apartment, where, scarcely noticing the eager and astounded greeting of -his foster-mother, he threw himself upon a seat, and leaning his elbows -upon the table, he buried his face in his hands, and remained plunged in -moody silence. - -In vain for some time Marryott questioned him, as to what had happened -to occasion his sudden return, and the discomposure under which he -appeared to labour. But at length, having shaken off the hand she so -caressingly placed on his shoulder (for some years the young man had -begun to discourage any similar demonstrations from his quondam nurse), -he called for some wine; and having drank off a bumper, he then came out -with the abrupt communication, that he had lost a thousand pounds, and -that she must manage to get it from his father. - -Mrs. Marryott was astounded. - -"Lost a thousand pounds!" Mr. Trevor to be informed of this, and coolly -asked to supply it. The boy was mad to think of such a thing. No -favouritism would indeed avail to cover such an enormity in his father's -eyes. She, with all her confidence in the influence she possessed, would -not risk the office of intercession in such an outrageous instance, at -such a time too, when Mr. Trevor was overlooking the accounts of his -brother Eustace, who had just returned from College, and into a fine -state of mind she assured him his father was worked up by the -employment. Then, in anticipation of the paternal indignation she -prepared him to receive, Mrs. Marryott ventured to bestow upon her -foster-son some severe strictures upon the imprudence of his conduct, -all which Job's comfort the young man was in no mood to receive with -patient equanimity. - -Starting from his seat, he rudely told her to hold her tongue, for if -she did not choose to help him he must go to some one who would; and -rushing up stairs, he went straight to his mother's sitting-room. Mrs. -Trevor was alone, seated near the open window, with her eyes fixed sadly -on the church spire rising amidst the distant trees, and pointing with -such solemn silence to that blessed home, for which the wounded spirit -must have so often yearned. - -"Eugene!" she exclaimed in surprise, as, turning her sorrowful -countenance towards the opening door, she beheld her son; and Eugene -having slightly returned the pressure of her outstretched hand, threw -himself down upon the nearest seat, in much the same state of moody -dejection as he had previously done in the apartment of Marryott. - -But there seemed something more soothing in the atmosphere of his -present position--something in the subdued and holy calm of the maternal -presence, which had never before impressed him in the like degree. - -Perhaps it had been a relief to his jealous spirit to find his mother -thus alone, unaccompanied, as was usually the case when he was in the -house, by the envied Eustace, to be the witness of his discomfiture, and -an auditor of his misfortune. And when, perceiving that something was -amiss, she approached, and, without inquiry, sat down silently by his -side, he did not now shrink from the fair soft hand which, with almost -timid tenderness, was placed in gentle sympathy on his arm, but burst -forth at once in softened accents of appeal with the grievous fact. - -"Mother, what am I to do? I have lost upon the Derby a thousand pounds; -have it I must immediately. I cannot tell my father; some one must get -it out of him. Marryott won't--will you?" - -The mother withdrew the hand which, emboldened by her young son's -unwonted show of confiding consideration, had ventured to begin to part -the dark matted locks from his heated brow. Nor was this done from -dismay at the chief purport of this desperate intelligence, but from the -cold pang with which these concluding words struck upon her ear: -"Marryott won't--will you?" - -It had not then been the impulse of his filial heart, as for a few brief -minutes she had gladly hoped, to fly to his mother in his distress. He -had gone to another first, and only come to her as a last resource--as -often when a boy had been the case, when Marryott, for fear of his -father's displeasure at the expense, had refused him some -indulgence--some of those "good things" we have heard the man Eugene so -feelingly deplore, and with which the mother had supplied him from her -own too circumscribed resources. - -Had not the present emergency been out of the question to her limited -powers, how willingly would she in the same manner have relieved her son -of his pressing anxiety. - -As it was, the momentary pang of bitterness allayed, without giving way -to any irritating manifestation of her feelings, with regard to his -astounding communication, she only expressed her sorrow at his -misfortune and perplexity; and refused not to take upon herself the -office he demanded of her. - -"Alas, Eugene! you know the extent of the influence I possess," she -sadly observed. "I can but break to your father what you have related, -and trust to his general indulgence towards you, rather than to any -regard he may be inclined to pay to entreaties of mine in your behalf." - -"Exactly; that is all I want, mother; tell him that I will work hard at -that d--d bank for the next year--that I will make it up to him in some -way--anything in the world; but if he does not let me have it, I must -blow my brains out--that's all." - -And the mother, sadly sighing over the ruinous course--ruinous as -regarded his soul's welfare--in which her son had so early embarked--and -she, without any power to influence or to restrain--left the room. - -Mrs. Trevor entered the library with no willing step. She knew well how -she should find her husband occupied, and the disagreeable nature of her -mission was less repugnant to her feelings than the pain which would -most probably be in store for her in her other son's behalf. - -And here indeed she did find her Eustace undergoing a more torturing -mental ordeal than that of the physical chastisement to which she had on -a former occasion seen him exposed in that same apartment; his noble, -generous spirit goaded almost beyond the power of endurance, as -compelled to sit there before his father, and submit to the most close, -exact, and grinding examination of every detail and minutiæ of his last -year's expenses, a process accompanied, as was every item of the amount, -with the most bitter and angry comments on his so-called profligacy and -extravagance--the galling and degrading nature of which ordeal every -young man, blameless and well-principled as he may be, will be able -fully to appreciate. - -The mother cast an involuntary glance of tender concern upon the victim, -and then approached her husband. - -"Well, Madam, are you too come to assist me in this delightful -business?" - -"No, Mr. Trevor," in a trembling voice. "I have come to speak to you -upon another subject--about Eugene." - -"Eugene! what in the world have you got to say about him?" - -"He has returned home in much distress; he has been unfortunate, and -requires your assistance, though at the same time is fearful of your -displeasure." - -"The devil he is! well, I am a happy individual. Have I not enough on my -hands already," with a vindictive glance at Eustace, "without being -bored in this fresh quarter? I suppose he wants his allowance advanced; -but be so good as to tell him, Madam, that until I have finished the -delectable business in which I am engaged, he must please to wait. What -the deuce did he come running down here for, wasting his time and my -money. A letter, I should think, would have answered his purpose; -really, one would suppose I was made of millions." - -"But, Mr. Trevor, I am sorry to say that Eugene's case is of greater, -more immediate importance than you imagine. Eugene, I grieve to tell -you, has lost a very considerable sum of money at Epsom, and requires an -immediate remittance for payment (as it is called) of his debt of -honour." - -Mr. Trevor changed colour, and an involuntary oath escaped his lips. But -something--perhaps it was the glance he saw exchanged between the mother -and son--caused him to restrain any further ebullition of the feeling -with which this revelation inwardly inspired him. - -For he fancied--how unjustly may be imagined--that something of -triumphant exultation was expressed in that glance, that it was now the -father's favourite on whom was about to descend his displeasure--perhaps -the present forfeiture of his former favour. This was most fortunate for -Eugene. It turned the course of his passion into another channel. - -"And what, allow me to ask," he proceeded with forced composure, "may be -the amount of this unfortunate involvement?" - -Mrs. Trevor, in a low tone, named the sum. - -Its extent probably exceeded Mr. Trevor's expectation, and the -expression of his countenance plainly indicated the struggle of -contending feelings within his breast. - -He took two or three strides about the room, then ordered Eugene to be -sent to him. - -"Nay, Madam, pray do not you trouble yourself," as Mrs. Trevor was -preparing to leave the room, too willing to escape from the scene of -whatever nature which was to follow; and he rang the bell, and desired -Eugene to be summoned. - -In a few minutes, during which no one spoke--Mrs. Trevor sitting pale -and patient, Eustace walking to the window with a look of weary disgust -upon his countenance, whilst Mr. Trevor's dark eye glanced alternately -the one from the other, with the wary suspicious glare of an angry -animal--Eugene entered, prepared for the worst, with a dogged -indifference of countenance and threw himself upon a chair behind his -father. - -"Well, Sir, and what is this I hear of you?" Mr. Trevor commenced. "Lost -a thousand pounds! a pretty story truly; and want me to give you the -money. Really one would think you were heir to twenty thousand a-year, -instead of a younger son," with a significant glance towards the window, -"totally and entirely dependent on my bounty." - -There was nothing very encouraging in the letter of this exordium. -Something, however, in the manner in which it was spoken, seemed to give -hope and courage to the culprit; for shaking off his sullen moodiness, -he sprang from his seat, and approaching his father, began to pour into -his ear, in earnest humble strains, a string of protestations, -representations, and excuses, relating to the subject of his loss--on -the true Spartan principle, accusing the failure rather than the -committal of the deed--showing how it had been, by the most unforeseen -turn of luck, that he had not won _thousands_, instead of losing _one_; -the good fortune which had attended him, on each preceding occasion of -the kind; finally declaring his determination to do better for the -future, or at any rate so manage, that he would blow his brains out -rather than again trouble his father. - -"Well, well, Sir, this all sounds very plausible, indeed," was Mr. -Trevor's reply, having listened with becoming gravity and consideration -to the defence; "but I would advise you to give up this losing trade of -gambling you have commenced. You will find it, let me tell you, far less -profitable in the end than sticking to your bank. In the meantime, to -extricate you from your present dilemma, and enable you to turn over a -new leaf for the future--this also being in your case the first trouble -you have given me--I will write you a cheque for what you require; but -remember, this is the last time you must expect from me anything of the -sort. Your brother there will tell you how I have plenty to do with one -younger son's worthless extravagance--" - -"Mr. Trevor, you are cruelly unjust," interposed the mother's trembling -voice, indignant tears swelling to her eyelids. "You know that one half -of what you bestow so freely upon Eugene would amply cover all that -Eustace owes--" - -"Mrs. Trevor, may I request your silence on the subject?" thundered her -husband. "Have I not often told you, that I desire no interference -between myself and the affairs of my sons. Supposing I do act with the -cruel injustice you so flatteringly ascribe to me, what then? have I not -a right to do what I will with my own?" - -And, suiting the action to the words, his hand trembling with agitation, -he hastened to achieve--that to him almost incredible thing--to write a -cheque and present it to his youngest son for a thousand pounds, with a -certain feeling, or at any rate the appearance, of unmurmuring alacrity. - -So does one bad feeling at the time being, govern even our worst of -passions. - -Eugene on his part did not, as may well be supposed, trouble himself to -analyse the merits of his father's unexpected generosity. - -He was really overcome with gratitude at the ready manner in which his -anxiety and trouble were thus alleviated. He thanked his father with -earnest emotion, and repeated protestations of never again requiring -such beneficence at his hands. - -Mr. Trevor waved him away. He had done the deed--he had shown forth his -own perfect independence of will and power--satisfied his own bad -feelings towards the object of his unnatural aversion, and mortified--as -seemed his constant aim--the partial feelings, as he deemed them of his -gentle wife towards her second son. And now the ruling passion began -again to struggle into power. - -The remembrance that he had just signed away a thousand pounds of his -close-kept hoards, without more demur than in former times he might have -bestowed a half-crown piece upon the boy, began to stir within his -breast no very great feeling of satisfaction. - -Eugene knew his father too well to risk any further provocation of the -feelings he could pretty plainly divine, and hastened to beat a -triumphant retreat, purposing to leave Montrevor that same night. - -In the exuberance of his feelings, he would probably, at least by a -glance, have thanked his mother for the service she had so auspiciously -rendered him; but Mrs. Trevor's looks were sorrowfully averted, and he -passed her by, not caring to irritate his father by any more manifest -token of attention. He did, however, stop to shake hands with Eustace as -he passed the window near which he stood--the first greeting exchanged -between the brothers, who had not met before for several months. - -Eustace Trevor returned his brother's greeting with no lack of kindly -warmth. He had stood mute and motionless as a statue throughout the late -trying scene which had been enacted. No sign of dark passion--of -envious, hateful feeling could have been read upon that countenance, -pale as marble, and beautiful in its nobly-suppressed emotion. Only -once--that time when his mother had raised her meek voice in his -defence, had an expression of strong feeling--a mixture of disdain, -indignation, and grateful affection--broke forth over his countenance, -and his dark, full eyes turned upon that much-loved champion with a -glance not to be described, whilst his lips moved as if he were about to -entreat her not to distress herself for his sake, when his father's -angry interruption had more effectually supplied any deprecation on his -part to that effect. - -But now, having returned, as we have said, his brother's greeting in a -manner which showed no particle of invidious feeling to have been -excited against the object of such unjust and unmerited favouritism; -when, too, his mother had softly and sadly left the room, without daring -to cast another look upon the beloved object for whom her heart was -bleeding; he came forth and stood before his father, with a firm and -composed mien and countenance. - -"Father!" he said. - -Mr. Trevor was looking over some drawer in his _escritoire_, with no -very happy expression of countenance. - -"Well, Sir?" glancing upwards, speaking in the most sharp, irritated -tone and manner, "what in the name of ---- do you want now? I must -request you to pester me no more to-night, we will return to the -pleasant task of settling the rest of your debts to-morrow." - -"No, father--that cannot be. I am no longer a child--a boy; and -it is not in the nature of man to bear, even from a father, -injustice--degradation, such as that to which I am subjected. I ask you -then, that this very night, on this very spot, for once, and for ever, -to let my account be settled between us; and never I solemnly swear, -here or hereafter shall you be troubled by me or my concerns. What I ask -is, that you will give me down a sum of money, just sufficient to pay my -expenses out of this country, and let me work for my bread by the sweat -of my brow, like others whom I know, in one of the distant colonies; for -this I say will be preferable, far preferable, to what you now make me -endure--far more accordant with my feelings of right and honour, than -shackled, degraded in every point, to be goaded, drawn into a profession -for which, besides the original disinclination I felt to embrace it, I -have been rendered still more unfit by the treatment I have received. -Viewing the office as I do, in a light far too sacred to be entered upon -by one, in the spirit and temper of mind to which you have reduced me." - -"Well, Sir, well; I admire your pious principles; do as you please; -give up this living. Many a better man than you, no doubt, will be glad -to have it. Go off to Botany Bay, if you will--but beg, borrow, or steal -your way out as you like. I must decline advancing you a farthing -towards that laudable design; all the money you ever get out of me, goes -to making you a parson; choose that, or beggary; for do not suppose that -you will be coming over me a second prodigal son. Go, riot as you will, -but not from me will ever come the wherewithals. Eat the husks, if you -please; but as for the ring, and the fatted calf, and all that--" - -"Sir!" interrupted the young man, by a strong effort suppressing the -resentment these taunting words fired in his breast from breaking -through the limits of filial respect. "Far be it from me, to expect such -things at your hands. No, truly, the very husks of the fields _would_ be -far sweeter to my taste than the begrudged bread eaten in my father's -house. And, refused as I am the just and reasonable demand I have made -to-night--determined as you are to show the cruelly childish dependence -to which you have reduced me, willingly would I embrace the other -alternative, and by the sweat of my brow, unaided by you, gain my daily -subsistence, were it not for the one consideration which draws me back, -and renders me powerless to resist--my mother." - -"Come, come, Sir; no more of this," interrupted Mr. Trevor impatiently, -wincing consciously--as he generally did from any allusion of the -kind--at this observation of the zealous son, as if he feared the -reflection on his own conduct which it implied. "No doubt, as you have -now found that I am not to be threatened out of another thousand pounds -to-night, you have plenty of considerations in reserve to reconcile your -dainty stomach to the loaves and fishes so cruelly forced upon you, in -preference to the husks to which it so nobly aspired. There--you had -better go and learn to practise, first, the duty, and obedience, and all -that you will have to preach to us bye and bye. Let me hear," in a tone -of taunting irony, "what shall be your first text." - -"Fathers, provoke not your children to anger!" was the reply which -thrilled in low, deep accents from the young man's voice through the -dusky apartment. But the servant for whom Mr. Trevor had some minutes -before rang impatiently, entering the next moment with lights, the -impression, whatever might have been its nature, which it made upon the -hearer, was dissipated, and a conclusion put to one of those dark, -painful interviews such as it is our unpleasing task to record, which -within that long, low library were enacted. Alas! more dark and dreadful -still are those which have to follow. - -Poor Mary Seaham! how would your gentle spirit have quailed with -shuddering dread, if a vision of what had there been witnessed had dimly -passed before your sight--those calm, sweet eyes there fixed with such -trustful and admiring confidence, upon that venerable old man--have -shrunk with horror and aversion, could "the light of other days" but -have revealed in all its naked hideousness, the spirit--which now -chained and incapacitated in its decrepitude and weakness--had once -worked with such hateful power within that aged form; but what even -this, to the knowledge of other things which it might also have -revealed--the close and active part which he--who then sat by her side, -as an angel of light to her infatuated eyes--had taken in some of these -deeds of darkness. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - In its train - Follow all things unholy--love of gold-- - - The phantom comes and lays upon his lids - A spell that murders sleep, and in his ear - Whispers a deathless word, and on his brain - Breathes a fierce thirst no water will allay-- - He is its slave henceforth! - - N. P. WILLIS. - -It is often to be found, that men of strongest and least regulated -passions, calculating, cautious, as may be the nature of their general -character, are the most easily rendered subserviant to any influence or -weakness to which they in the first instance, have capriciously chosen -to lay themselves open. - -Thus it was with Mr. Trevor. His unjust partiality towards his youngest -son turned against him, so far, that the latter gradually gained an -ascendency over his father's mind, for we cannot exactly call it his -affections, which no one, not even the favourite Marryott, had ever been -known to attain in so extended a measure, and effect. To Eugene Trevor's -credit, it may at least be said, that he was not one, so far as his -outward conduct and demeanour were concerned, to abuse such a position; -on the contrary, he was rather disposed to conciliate the continuance of -it, by every seeming mark of gratitude, and duty, never, however, -neglecting in any direct, or indirect way to turn to advantage the -propitious circumstances of his case. - -This habit had long engendered that peculiar respectfulness of manner -and demeanour, which we had occasion to remark so undeviatingly -maintained by the son, towards the miserly parent. - -But perhaps a bond of union had then been established between the father -and son, of a more subtle and secret character, than any were aware; the -consciousness on the parent's part, of having pardoned and covered in -the son, more than he had any right ever to have so covered or forgiven; -the son subdued in some measure to grateful subjection towards that -parent, from the consciousness of what had by him been concealed, and -overlooked; a bond of union, the more strengthened and annealed as years -wore on, and showed the harmony of character and propensity, however -differently they might as yet be shown forth, which subsisted between -them. - -Alas! when evil, not good cements the union of man with man--when hand -joins hand, for deeds or purposes of darkness--especially when by such -unholy links are seen connected, parent with child--child with parent! -However, all this might be--there was certainly a suspicious cloak over -one era of Eugene Trevor's early history, under which no member of his -family save his father ever penetrated. - -We allude to a period, two years perhaps after the event, which has -lately been brought forward, when he was suddenly removed from the -business in which he had for a period held a kind of sinacure office; -and ever afterwards was tacitly suffered by his father to live at large, -either at home or abroad, following no other profession or pursuit, but -those pleasures and practices, to which he was but too strongly -addicted. - -There is then good reason to suppose that the liberality of his father -on the occasion we have quoted, did not put a stop to further losses and -embarrassments of the same nature on Eugene's part; and one dark -instance will prove at least, to what extremity he was once driven, at -the same time as it exemplified the little confidence he was disposed as -yet to place, in the kindness and long suffering of a parent, whose -character and disposition he had too much acute insight and observation -not to be perfectly able to appreciate. He knew that in his father's -breast existed a passion wherein neither reason, nor benevolence, nor -natural affection, nor any other faculty had in other cases the least -influence--whilst in his own breast could he have analyzed its -propensities with equal exactness, he might have read the love, and -aspiring after the attainment of the same unrighteous mammon, as deep, -and vehement, in its development, though as yet subservient in a degree, -to other feelings--the slave--not as yet the master spirit of other -appetites and propensities. And alas! in the instance we are about to -record--how strongly is it proved that a great activity of this passion, -if the moral qualities of the mind be low--if there exist no honest or -honourable means, or a desire to pursue those means by which it can be -gratified--dishonesty, dishonour, every dark and crooked way and means, -may be the fearful consequences. - - * * * * * - -There came another evening when Eugene Trevor returned clandestinely to -Montrevor, without, as on former occasions, seeking to make his arrival -known to any member of the establishment. But Mr. Trevor was not long in -being apprized by Marryott, that his youngest son had some hours since -entered the house, and had gone straight to his bed-room, from which he -had not since made his appearance, and she wished to know whether she -had not better go and see what was the matter? - -Perhaps Mr. Trevor had his misgivings as to something being in the wind -in that quarter, which it were as well that he might see to in _propria -persona_, therefore, he told Marryott that he would go up stairs -himself, and find out what the boy was about. - -He accordingly proceeded to that distant part of the mansion, which -contained the sordid rooms, allotted from their boyhood, to the sons of -the family, and entered the one appropriated to Eugene's use. - -Mr. Trevor's stealthy entrance enabled him to stand some minutes without -notice, for the young man was seated with his back to the door, leaning -over a table, seemingly in the anxious examination of a small bundle of -papers he held in his hand, and on which the keen eye of the observer -fixed itself with suspicious surprize, for they were evidently bank -notes. - -Suddenly the father made a cautious movement forward--something had -caught his eye. It was one of these same papers, which the draught from -the open window had probably, unperceived by the owner, wafted from the -table to the ground, just behind the young man's chair. - -The father stooped; and having clutched it in his grasping hand, -curiously scanned his prize; yes, it was to all appearance one of those -precious things, after which his soul lusted--a monied note--a note for -£20 on the London Bank in which he had so great concern. - -But how was this? His hand trembled as he held it for stricter -examination further from his eyes. Perhaps his heart misgave him from -the first. How had the boy become possessed of all this money? - -Ah! a new light flashed upon him, and he became deadly pale. - -That well practised vision, that sharp witted perception was not to be -deceived. The astounding, stunning truth miraculously flashed upon his -senses, that the paper he held within his grasp was no true genuine -bank-note on the firm of Maynard, Trevor and Co., but that _it was -forged_. - -One moment after, and Eugene Trevor felt a sharp nervous grasp laid upon -his arm. He started violently, and the terrified ashy countenance he -turned towards his father, would at once have convicted him in the eye -of the beholder of any capital offence of which he might have been -suspected. - -"Wretched boy, what have you done?" gasped the father, as with one hand -maintaining his hold on the culprit's arm, with the other he held the -accusing note before his shrinking eye, glaring at the same time -fearfully upon him. "This--this--" in accents tremulous between rage and -horror, "I know, I feel convinced, is _forged_!" - -The son sat pale and trembling, but attempted not a word of explanation -or denial. - -"And the others--the same?" - -They were passively yielded for inspection. All--all--alike! - -"Do you wished to be hanged, Sir?" almost shrieked the father. - -"I must have money--those might have passed for such." - -"Might?--yes, and you might, I say, be hanged." - -"Well, if I were hanged, what then? Life's not worth having without -money," was the dark and moody rejoinder. - -"And why should you ever be in want of money?" Mr. Trevor replied in a -low, trembling voice. - -"Why? why--when I see how you serve Eustace." - -"Eustace!" in a tone of impatient scorn; "what's Eustace to do with -you?" - -"Or if I could be content to live the life that Harry leads," was the -sullen continuation, "I might perhaps do very well; but as I have in -some degree tastes and inclinations beyond those of a groom or a jockey, -I must have money somehow or another, for accidental emergencies like -the present. There was nothing left for me but this," pointing to the -notes, "or to blow my brains out, to which alternative I suppose I have -now arrived." - -"Tut, tut--nonsense!" replied the agitated father; "why did you not come -to me?" - -"You?--why, after that thousand pounds you gave me, I could not expect -you'd supply me with all I want now." - -"And who--who," continued Mr. Trevor, still livid with horror and dismay -at the dreadful risk his son had run, rather than at the crime he had -perpetuated; "who, in the name of Heaven, was your abettor in this -preposterous scheme?" - -Eugene Trevor, after a little hesitation, named his accomplice--of -course, an _attaché_ of the Bank in question--a young man of low birth -and principles, with whom Eugene Trevor had formed this dreadful -confederacy, and who was subsequently removed from the bank by the -connivance of Mr. Trevor, about the same time, as his young patron was, -as we have before mentioned, mysteriously taken from the business. - -"None of these notes have yet been circulated," the father inquired in -terrified anxiety. - -"No; not yet. I brought them down here, and Wilson was to follow, as you -gave me leave to ask him; and then I was to consider over with him the -best way of proceeding." - -Mr. Trevor mused for a moment; then gathering up the notes in his long, -thin fingers, carefully, nay, even delicately, as if he could not away -with some sentiment of tender respect even for that which only bore the -semblance of his heart's idol; he bade his son, in a low hoarse tone, to -get up, and follow him down stairs. - -Eugene mechanically obeyed; and his father stealthily preceded him back -to his library, the door of which they having both entered, he carefully -closed and bolted. - -Eugene sank upon a chair, with blanched cheeks, and trembling in every -limb. He had not tasted food all day; but, more than this, the act of -moving from one room to the other had probably roused his mental powers, -and his not yet quite depraved or hardened heart became more sensible to -the horrors of the risk, and the enormity of the crime from which he had -been providentially rescued. - -His father, seeing the condition his son was in, produced a small flask -he kept near him for his private use in cases of emergency (he never, -generally speaking, partook of wine or spirits), and poured him out a -sparing quantity. - -The son looked at the glass contemptuously, swallowed its contents; then -seized the bottle his father had incautiously left within his reach, -emptied it of at least half of the remainder, and drank it clean off. - -Mr. Trevor, in the meantime, had turned away, to enter upon the business -in hand. Holding the dangerous papers still clutched fearfully in his -grasp, he looked around to determine how most securely to dispose of -them. - -It would have been easy to have committed them at once to the flames, -if any such means of destruction had been provided; and thus every -memento of his son's guilt might have perished for ever; but though a -chilly April evening, no fire at such an advanced period was suffered to -burn upon the miser's cheerless hearth. So he looked from that hopeless -quarter for some other resource; and going to his _escritoire_, unlocked -it, and in one of its most secret recesses deposited those deeds of -intended wrong, destined to afford long, long after their very existence -was forgotten, a striking example of the fact, that sin, however at the -time covered or concealed, seldom fails to bear forth some fruit of woe, -be it to ourselves or others, in future years. - -Mr. Trevor then proceeded to open another drawer, and glancing towards -his son, carefully selected some bank-notes therefrom, brought them to -Eugene, and thrust them hastily into his hand, as if he feared the -impulse might have evaporated ere the act was accomplished. They were -the exact number of those he had counted of the forged notes. - -The young man looked on them at first with a bewildered and uncertain -gaze; then, overcome probably by the reaction of feeling, burst forth -into a paroxysm of tears, with which he covered his father's hand, as he -gave vent to a torrent of thanks and deprecations against such -undeserved generosity. - -The aged man--for even then, though scarce past sixty, Mr. Trevor from -appearance might have been so denominated--that old, old heart having -long imparted the influence of years to his character and demeanour, he -seemed by this fervent recognition of his unjust--indeed, under the -circumstances of the case--iniquitous indulgence, to be spurred on to an -effusion of warmth towards his favourite, almost monomaniacal in its -extent. Again he seized his keys, and, one after another, threw open -wide chest after chest, drawer after drawer of his spacious treasures; -showing, with layers of notes to a great amount, heaps of shining -gold--the gathered hoards of years; with which, besides the enormous -deposits with which the bank of Maynard and Co. was enriched, this -"exceeding rich man" kept to feast his eyes and delight his heart with -their sensible and tangible presence. - -"There boy--there," he exclaimed, observing with a kind of exulting -gratification the impression this display made upon the young man's -countenance--how his eye kindled, and his breath came short and quick, -as if with the covetous delight which found such sympathy in his own -breast, "is not that worth living for, think ye.... Well, well, never -forget again, nor waste and want, as you have lately begun to do; but -wait, and watch, and learn to do like me, and who knows but some day or -another...." - -He paused, and glanced significantly from his coffers to his son, from -his son to his coffers. - -"Harry will be a lucky fellow," murmured Eugene, averting his -countenance, over which, at those words, a brightening gleam had passed. - -"Pooh, that fool!" - -"That fool, Sir, is your eldest son for all that," laughed the other. - -"And if he is, what's that? it's my own, all that.... Besides," lowering -his voice, "mark me, he'll break his neck some of these days." - -"Not he, Harry's too good a rider for that; and you know a fool is sure -to live for ever; but even if he died, there's Eustace." - -"Eustace--curse him!" was the fatherly ejaculation. - -Even the calculating brother now looked a little shocked, and when just -at that moment there came a gentle knock at the door, both started, like -guilty creatures as they were. But the old man glancing at his coffers -with nervous alarm, hurriedly bade his son to wait, shutting them up, -and making them fast with hurried trepidation ere the inopportune -intruder was admitted. It proved to be only Marryott, who presented -herself with a smooth and unsuspecting countenance, to ask whether Mr. -Eugene would not come and partake of the supper she had provided for him -in her own room. And Eugene, though at first about to profess himself -not hungry, on second thoughts, and a glance from his father, changed -his mind, shook hands affectionately with his foster-mother, and -consented to avail himself of her considerate attentions. - -A change had come over the young man's dream; a new vista opened before -his eyes; Satan had showed him the kingdoms of the world, and the glory -of them; he must bow the knee and worship. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - Blest order, which in power dost so excel, - - * * * * * - - Fain would I draw nigh, - Fain put thee on; exchanging my lay sword - For that of th' Holy Word. - - HERBERT. - - -About a year from this time an uncle of Mrs. Trevor's died, leaving -twenty thousand pounds to his niece's second son, Eustace, his god-son; -and the persecuted young man thus found himself, by this unexpected -behest, placed in a position which rendered him to a degree independent -of the tyranny and bondage to which he had been hitherto subjected by -his father, and at liberty, if so had been his pleasure, to relinquish -the profession which had in such an arbitrary manner been forced upon -him. But it was not thus to be. Very different now was the nature of -the case. He stood a free man--free to choose or to reject the path of -life before him, and the spirit which had struggled so fiercely in the -ignoble chains which bound it to that course, now disenthralled, turned -as naturally as the eagle to the sun, to that high and holy service for -which he had been prepared. - -The proud and restless spirit, soothed and tranquillized, yielded itself -as a little child to the scarcely-breathed wishes of his mother, that -the struggles he had so long and nobly endured in bringing down his -rebellious thoughts and contrary inclinations--the hard studies to which -he had devoted himself to fit him according to his own high standard for -the important vocation, might not be thrown away; but that before she -left this world of sin and sorrow, she might have the happiness of -seeing her beloved son wedded to that profession, which in her eyes -offered the only fold of security and protection from the snares and -temptations which beset the path of manhood--"the bosom of the Church." - -Eustace was fully persuaded that his father would now withdraw the -living he had before so pertinaciously awarded him; for he plainly -perceived the increasing enmity the bestowal of his uncle's little -fortune, had raised against him in the breast of his unnatural parent, -an act purposely, no doubt, made by the testator, to secure it from the -well-known cupidity of his niece's husband. But what if this were the -case? The forfeiture of this benefice would but the more fully satisfy -his own mind, as to the disinterestedness of the change affected in his -feelings with respect to that profession. - -Therefore from this period did Eustace Trevor set himself with heart and -soul more fully to prepare for the sacred office, and having shone with -increased brilliancy in the path of learning, covered with honours and -distinctions, stood ready for the ceremony of ordination. - -But this event was retarded; first, by the severe attack of brain-fever, -the result probably of the course of hard and long-sustained study, -which nearly brought him to the brink of the grave, and prostrated his -strength for many an after day; and by the time he had sufficiently -recovered, another event had occurred, the nature of which seemed likely -to effect a most important change in the aspect of his future career. - -Mr. Trevor's words, spoken in cruel levity, with reference to his eldest -son, became verified in a manner not often found precedented in the -course of the world's history. The body of the unfortunate Henry Trevor -was brought home one morning to his father's house, it having been found -lying on the road, where, on returning home the night before in a state -of intoxication--a vice to which he had been unhappily addicted--he had -been thrown from his horse, and, as it appeared, killed upon the spot. - -And Eustace Trevor stood in that brother's place--eldest son, and heir -to all that would have been his! - -It is not often that such instances are afforded us in the order of -God's dealings; instances which, to our blind sight, cannot but appear -wisely and providentially appointed. - -We would fain cut down the barren tree, that the good and fruitful may -flourish in its room. But the husbandman wills it not. We would fain -root out the tares: but he orders that they should flourish on. The evil -weeds grow apace; whilst too often the flower withers, and fades ere it -be yet noon. - -But here men said all was right. Poor Henry Trevor! removed from a -sphere in which he could never have played but so ignoble a part; making -room for one of whom none could desire better to fill his place, as heir -and future representative of a house and family of such wealth and -consideration as that of Trevor, and so noble and brilliant a successor -to its present miserly head. - -Few in any way acquainted with Eustace's superiority of character, -hesitated to look upon the death of the first-born but as a source of -congratulation rather than of condolence to the new heir, and to -posterity. So do men err in their calculations of good and evil! - -Little did they know the wild heritage of woe this seeming good did -bring about! Seldom has the death of an unlamented eldest son proved so -direful in its consequences. - -The catastrophe in question, of course interrupted, for a while, the -intended ordination of Eustace Trevor. It was naturally supposed that no -further thought would be entertained of his entering the Church, either -by himself or family. Indeed, we will not say but that his change of -circumstances altered also, in some degree, his own ideas upon the -subject. - -New prospects, new duties, new spheres of action for his transcendant -talents, seemed to open before his view. Even Mrs. Trevor might have -seemed tacitly to bend to the new position of circumstances. It was, -however, difficult for the son to gain any insight into the wishes of -his father upon the subject; for some time after his brother's death he -was denied all access to that parent's presence: Mr. Trevor's vindictive -feeling against his second son not suffering him to bear the sight of -him in the new position he now was placed. - -No one, indeed, save Eugene and Marryott, from this time were suffered -often to approach him. The former, from the period recorded in the last -chapter, spent much of his time at Montrevor; his favour and influence -with his father increasing day by day. At this treatment, Eustace could -be neither much astonished or grieved. For his mother's sake alone did -he ever make Montrevor his abode, and her failing health, which had -received a further shock from the violent end of her unfortunate son, -drew him more anxiously than ever to her side. - -He laid his future destiny in her hands. If she still desired him to -embrace the office of priesthood, no change of fortune should induce him -further to demur. - -And no change of fortune _could_ alter the mother's heart's desire on -that score; but she knew that worldly consideration spoke otherwise. Was -it for her to gainsay the wisdom of the world, perhaps the dictates of -her son's own heart? - -She bade him further pause and consider the question ere he took the -indissoluble step, which would bind him so firmly to the service of his -God. She advised him to go and try the world, to look upon its pride, -its ambition, and its pleasure. He went. Courted, flattered, and -admired, all these allurements beckoned him away. The world smiled upon -the eldest son, and not only the world; he in whose heart of hearts -hatred and envy were darkly smouldering against one whom fortune had at -once so unexpectedly favoured, and raised above himself--he also in -that smiling world spoke him fair, and walked with him as friend--and -this was his brother. - -How was it then that Eustace Trevor finally returned to his original -intention? Was his eye even then opened to see the hollowness of all -that thus surrounded him, or that returning thence to his mother's side, -he beheld her fading form, her anxious eye, and determined in his heart -that her fainting spirit should be rejoiced--her last days cheered by -the accomplishment of her soul's earnest desire. - -Was it in bitterness of soul at his father's cruel hatred? The still -more cruel suspicion that dawned upon his perception, in spite of all -outward seeming, that the heart of his brother was turned against him -more darkly still; and that he felt it to be absolutely necessary to -secure himself a definite occupation and object in life, ere the time -came when the only light of his paternal home would be quenched with his -mother's life, and he become a voluntary exile from its portals? Be it -as it may, Eustace Trevor, without giving notice of his intentions to -any of his family, went to Oxford, and was finally ordained, having by -consent of the bishop, in consideration of the long preparation and many -accidental delays which had postponed the event--his long-tested -readiness and ability for the important vocation--been excused the -year's probation which must generally intervene, and was admitted on the -close coming occasion to the office of priesthood. - - "Dread searcher of the hearts, - Thou who didst seal - Thy servant's choice, oh help him in his parts, - Else helpless found, to turn and teach Thy love." - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - The first dark day of nothingness, - The last of danger and distress. - - BYRON. - - -Thus signed and sealed, a devoted soldier of the church of God, -"fearless yet trembling," Eustace Trevor went forth, and proceeded to -his home--for home he must always term the spot which contained his -mother. - -In his mind was a conflict of many and full fraught feelings. There was -the consciousness of the great and responsible charge he had that day -taken, and the new colouring it must henceforth cast upon his future -existence--accompanied by a calm and holy joy (as at the same time, that -peace and good-will to all men warmed his heart, yes even to his -enemies) the world seemed to fade from his estimation, and the kingdom -of Heaven and its righteousness, to be the only one on which his soul -was fixed. - -But perhaps a less high-toned, but no less pure and holy emotion was the -one which, unknown to himself, most strongly predominated over the -rest--the idea of his mother. The glad surprise he had prepared for her -suffering spirit, the joy he knew would fill those sorrow-dimmed eyes, -when she learnt the consummation of her heart's desire on his behalf! - -It would be difficult to conceive aright the depth and strength of the -affection which, fed by "love and grief, and indignation," had grown -with the growth, and strengthened with the strength of Eustace Trevor -towards his mother; therefore its expression to some might appear -exaggeration, but such it was, and the nearer he now approached the -demesne of Montrevor, the more was his mind filled with her pure and -holy image, and all the happiness he hoped for, both present and future, -seemed to concentrate in that one point. - -The possibility of losing her, seemed to become a thing he could not -allow himself to think was possible. It was but sorrow and mental -suffering which had affected her precious health. Happiness should again -restore it; he would have a home to offer her. Power or principle could -not bind her to the one, where wrongs, dishonour, and grief, had been so -long her portion. He would bear her away to more healthful air, and with -his love and devotion bind up her broken heart, and heal her bruised -spirit. He had enough to provide for her in comfort, if not in luxury; -and what luxury--what scarcely comfort, had she ever tasted in her -husband's penurious abode? - -If a thought of the day when those princely possessions he entered would -be his, crossed his mind, the idea was but fraught with painful regret; -scarcely daring, as he did, to extend his dreams so far as to -contemplate the possibility of _her_ being alive when that day came, to -profit by the circumstance--to find all the grief, and wrong, and -slight, and dishonour which had marked her existence in her husband's -wealthy house, exchanged for the honour, power and dominion--to say -nothing of the peace and prosperity--which should gild her latter days, -as mistress of her son's rich inheritance. - -Yet at the same time it may be truly said no dark thoughts, no covetous -desire which might have sprung too naturally from this train of ideas in -any other breast, was hereby suggested. No, he felt too great a calm, a -peace and contentment, in the present aspect of his life, as contrasted -with the struggles and trials which had been its early portion, not to -have contemplated such a _bouleversement_ as that to which we allude -with any feeling save that of horror and distaste. No--he had seen and -proved enough of the hateful sin of covetousness, for any such feeling -to have gained admittance in his breast; nay, not indeed to have fled -from its very idea, as from a serpent. - -"They that will be rich fall into a temptation and a snare, and into -many foolish and hurtful lusts, which draw men into destruction and -perdition. For the love of money is the root of evil, which, when some -coveted after, they have erred from the faith and pierced themselves -through with many sorrows. But thou, man of God, flee from these things -and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, -meekness." - -Thus, in a frame and state of mind which it would have been far from -the thoughts of man to conceive as the presager of misery, dark and -horrible, Eustace Trevor approached his father's house. - -It was night, and the mansion seemed wrapped in more than its customary -gloom and darkness. Every window was closed and shuttered--all save one, -and from that the only ray of light visible on its whole extent -glittered through the open casement. - -It was enough--the light came from his mother's chamber. The star of his -home shone forth, as it had ever done, to cheer and welcome his -approach. He did not seek admittance at the front door. That had never -been the privilege of himself or brothers during their boyhood, or their -custom by choice in later years. - -There was a more private entrance, through which, after having left -their horse or other vehicle at the stables, the young Trevors could -enter or issue at their pleasure--safe from the _espionage_ or uncertain -welcome of their father. To this Eustace had now recourse. He tried it, -and finding the doors beyond his expectations unsecured, passed through, -making his way by a back staircase to his mother's apartments, without -encountering a domestic or any person on his route. - -The house was still and silent as the grave. He entered the boudoir. -There was no lamp or candle burning there, but the clear light reflected -from the adjoining chamber, of which the door was ajar, seemed to -indicate that his mother had retired for the night. - -Softly he stepped across the floor to make known to her his arrival. He -knew she was expecting him about this time, therefore no fear of -startling her too much by his sudden appearance presented itself to his -mind--no fear indeed! He listened. All was still--only a slight breeze -through the window, (he vaguely wondered that it was open at this hour -though the night indeed was close and still), faintly rustled the canopy -of the bed and flared the waxen tapers standing on the table. If his -mother were there, she undoubtedly slept. - -He glanced around the room before advancing further to ascertain the -fact, and was struck by the cold and unnatural order pervading the -apartment. It was the sign which first chilled his blood and impressed -him with a vague but horrible dread. Yet he stood no longer; with a -firm though somewhat quickened step he approached, laid his hand upon -the drapery, which was slightly drawn round the head of the bed, and -beheld his mother. - -She slept indeed--how fast, how well, one look alone sufficed to reveal! -But Eustace's eye turned not from the gaze which had first fixed itself -upon that marble brow. - - "He gazed--how long we gaze in spite of pain, - And know, but dare not own, we gaze in vain. - In life itself she was so still and fair, - That death with gentler aspect withered there." - -The long faded beauty of her youth seemed to have returned to Mrs. -Trevor's countenance, as there in "the rapture of repose," she lay. - -Yet the son's eye became glazed in its intensity, as if the sight was -one of horror and fearfulness, whilst the hue of the cold sleeper's -cheek, was life, and health, and beauty, compared with that which -settled on his face. - -A female servant of the establishment came and found him still standing -thus. The woman's startled alarm at first was great. To behold that tall -statue-like figure in the chamber she had left, deserted by all living. -But any weak demonstration of her fear was awed into reason and -collectiveness, by the recognition of her dead mistress' son, who at -length, as she stood transfixed in her first paroxism of terror to the -spot, turned his face towards her, revealing a countenance on which no -passionate emotion, no strong grief, nothing but a stern, fearful -composure, was visible, and demanded in a low, hollow voice: - -"When did she die?" - -"This morning at nine o'clock," the woman answered, weeping. - - "It was enough--she died; what reck'd it how?" - -Eustace waved his hand in sign for her to depart. She obeyed -immediately, closing the door instinctively behind her; seeming at once -to feel and understand that he who had most right to command, within -that chamber, had arrived. - -And all through the lonely watches of that night; lock and bolt from -within, secured, shut out from all intrusion, the agonized communion of -the living with the peaceful sorrowless dead. The living in his agony -which no tongue could tell; the dead, whose life might have been called -one long painful sigh--one sympathetic groan, lying there, serene, -senseless, smiling on his pain. But too great had been the shock of the -deep waters which now overwhelmed his soul, for Eustace Trevor to -consider, and bless God that it was so. He that but an hour before had -come on his way rejoicing--his spirit lifted up as it were on eagles' -wings, "from this dim spot which men call earth," to heaven, now was as -a crushed worm--a broken reed,--stricken to the ground in hopeless, -powerless despair! - -"Why hast thou smitten me, and there is no healing for me? I looked for -peace and there is no good; for the time of healing, and behold -trouble!" - -Such is man in his best estate; his highest strength is -weakness--altogether vanity. Let the Almighty call forth his storm to -break upon his head; let him wither his gourd--his spirit faints, and is -ready to die. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - Oh wretch! without a tear, without a thought, - Save joy above the ruin thou hast wrought. - - * * * * * - - Look on thy earthly victims and despair. - - BYRON. - - -When the morning arrived, some one came knocking for admittance at the -door of the chamber of death. The knock was several times repeated -before it gained any answer or attention; but finally a slow and heavy -tread was heard traversing the apartment; the bolt was feebly drawn, the -door opened, and Eustace Trevor stood face to face with Mabel Marryott. - -Prepared as she was for this meeting, and in some degree for its being -one of no pleasing nature, the woman could not but recoil before the wan -and haggard countenance which presented itself to her view. - -Her stony eye shrunk--her bloodless heart quailed at first sight of -those signs of mighty grief which one night's agony had imprinted there. -But perhaps it was not so much his appearance as the glance, Eustace, -still holding the door in his hand, fixed upon her, which thus affected -her; and he, favoured by this movement on her part, was about, without -the utterance of a word, again to close the door in her face, when -quickly recovering from her momentary weakness she prevented the action, -by stepping quickly forward, and attempted to pass him by. But no; -firmly he remained within the doorway, effectually frustrating any such -endeavour. Mabel Marryott looked at him with an air of affected -surprise, her cool, unabashed demeanour perfectly restored. - -"Mr. Eustace," she said, and there was an insolent tinge of patronising -pity in her tone; "will you allow me, Sir?" - -"No; I will not," was the reply which burst forth in accents, which, if -there were aught of human in her mould, must have shook her very soul to -its centre; "you are not wanted here; you have done enough--you have -helped to kill her; what can you desire more? Begone!--tempt me not to -call down the curse of Heaven upon ..." - -"Eustace--Eustace--this is folly; this is madness!" said a voice behind -him; and the fearful words were stayed on Eustace's lips, when he looked -up, and beheld his brother. Eugene Trevor, looking very pale and ill -himself, came forward, and with a glance at Marryott took his brother's -arm, and led him back through the chamber of death into the boudoir -beyond, closing the door behind them. - -"Good heavens! Eustace, how ill you look! You must not give way in that -manner--it is weak, it is unmanly. This has been a blow to us all; but -you know it was not altogether unexpected. Her health has long been -failing." - -But his brother did not heed him. He had lain his head down upon a table -near the seat on which he sunk. Those cold, inadequate words did not -touch his deep fathomless grief. But still, the sight and presence of -one whom, she at least had loved, seemed to have some effect in soothing -the passionate excitement of misery into which the sight of her she had -every reason to abhor, had worked him. He forgot even at the time to -think how ill that love had been requited, and scalding tears, - - "The very weakness of the brain, - Which still confessed without relieving pain," - -were trickling from his burning eye-balls, when again he raised his -face, and turned it towards his brother. - -"Eugene, who was with her?" he asked, while at the same time he -murmured: "Not that woman?" - -"No--I think not; it was so sudden at the last, that I believe, not even -her maid knew of it till she came into her room in the morning. The -doctor says it was paralysis of the heart." - -"Yes--yes, I see; deserted, neglected, even in the hour of death!" - -"I saw her the night before, before going to bed," rejoined the other, -without noticing this interruption. "She seemed pretty well then, but -did not notice me much--she only asked for you;" and there was something -of sullen bitterness in the tone of voice in which these words were -uttered. - -His listener groaned. - -"And why was I not sent for--_why_?" he repeated with agonized emphasis. -"Oh, need I ask that question?" - -"I told you, that to the last she was not considered in danger," -continued the other with some impatience; "of course, there could have -been no motive." - -"No motive; no not more than there ever has been, for all that has been -done to wither her heart and shorten her days--not more than there has -ever been for the course of cruel, wanton persecution, which would fain, -I believe, have crushed the very life blood out of my heart also. But -that--that is nothing now; it is the thought of her alone which tortures -my soul to madness. To think of all she was made to endure, for my sake -and her own--that placid martyred saint; and then no effort made to -bring me to her side, to soothe her dying pangs, as I alone could do; -her last glance seeking for her son in vain; her eyes closed perhaps by -her murderess.... Eugene, has _he_ dared to look upon her?" - -"Who! my father?" - -"Yes; _your_ father." - -"I really do not know whether he has been here, or not, since...." - -"He could not--he dare not; only a wretch like her could venture to -enter there--to look upon that angel face, and not see utter despair and -condemnation breathed forth from each cold feature upon her destroyer." - -"Eustace this is strong language; grief has weakened and excited your -brain; you want rest and refreshment." - -"Rest and refreshment? All the rest I can take is watching by her side, -guarding her from any desecrating approach; all refreshment, that which -her cold, calm presence can afford. Strong language did you call it, -Eugene? Can your mother's son think any language too strong to express -his hatred--abhorrence--against her mighty wrongs? You cannot be in -league with those who have destroyed her?" - -"I never interfered in those matters," Eugene murmured coldly, but with -downcast looks. "It does no good, and is no business of ours, and if you -had taken my advice, Eustace, you would have done the same. It would -have been the better for you. It is this sort of thing which -exasperates my father against you." - -Oh the look of mingled scorn, surprise, and sorrowful reproach, which -Eugene Trevor, on lifting up his eyes, saw turned upon him. They shrunk -again abashed before its power, and ere he dared again to lift them, he -heard the slow heavy footsteps of his brother returning to the chamber -of death. - -Eugene did not follow there, but rising, went down stairs the other way -straight to his father's library. Marryott was there, having doubtless -been reporting to her master the unfavourable reception she had received -from his eldest son. - -Mr. Trevor sat in his dressing-gown cowering over the embers of a scanty -fire. He looked feeble and haggard, and altogether might have been taken -for many years beyond his real age. It could not be, we know, that grief -had thus affected him; but certainly from this period the old -enchanter's wand seemed more and more to have been wrested from his -hold, some blight to have fallen upon that cruel and covetous man; -something which bowed his spirit into the impotence, almost dotage of -premature old age; converting the tyrant into the slave--the man of -strong passions into the tool of the passions of others--in all -respects, indeed, save that which touched in any degree upon the -mainspring of his being--the darling lust--which coiled like a serpent -round his heart-strings; nothing but the hand of death could tear away -his covetousness. How was this? Could it be that the words spoken in the -bitterness of his son's agonized spirit, had thus been brought to bear -upon him, that he _had_ dared to look upon his dead wife's angel's face, -and that the sight had cursed him. - - "Lo! the spell now works around thee, - And the clankless chain has bound thee, - O'er thy heart and brain together - Hath the word been passed, now wither." - -He turned round on his son's entrance with a look of nervous dread. - -"Oh, it is you, Eugene! Marryott has been telling me what is going on up -stairs." - -"Pshaw!" the young man exclaimed, as he threw himself down on a chair, -"one must not mind him just now, poor fellow, he is quite distracted." - -"I should say so, indeed," sneered the woman significantly. - -"But he will not come here, I hope," continued Mr. Trevor, anxiously. "I -desire that he is not allowed to come near me. I cannot, I will not see -him!" - -"No fear of that, Sir," answered the son coldly; "he is not very likely -to trouble _you_ with his presence." - -"Well, well, that's all right; let him rave as much as he likes out of -my sight. And now give me a drop of brandy, Marryott, and stir up the -fire gently, only just gently. It's very cold." - -And the victim of conscience cowered and shivered over the scanty flame -thus excited. - -"Eugene, stay!" he continued, "don't you go; I don't like to be left, -and there's so much business to be talked over, such trouble and -expense." And the miser set about to calculate grudgingly the cost of -his wife's funeral. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - Oh, lie not down, poor mourner, - On the cold earth in despair; - Why give the grave thy homage? - Does the spirit moulder there? - Cling to the Cross, thou lone one, - For it hath power to save. - If the Christian's hope forsake thee, - There's no hope beyond the grave. - - HAYNES BAYLEY. - - -If it be terrible to look upon the face of the beloved dead in the first -hours of dissolution-- - - "Before decay's effacing finger - Hath swept the cheek where beauty lingers," - ---what must it be when hour after hour, like the worm in the bud, the -tyrant's power steals on its insiduous way, and we stand and gaze our -last, and see and feel it _must_ be so! - -Yet through all this, from which strong man so often shrinks, leaving to -woman's exhaustless fidelity the sacred care and mournful duty to the -departed, did Eustace Trevor--"Love mastering agony"--maintain his -watch, never allowing himself to be persuaded to quit the precincts of -that chamber, till that dreadful moment which was to cover from his eyes -all that in this world was precious to his heart--till a day more -dreadful still should arrive to force it to a close. Night followed day, -and morning chased away the shadows of darkness; but day and night were -both alike to the dimmed eyes--the stunned senses of the mourner. He -never slept, and but sufficient of the food placed for him in the -neighbouring room, as barely might preserve existence, ever passed his -lips. He saw no one, but occasionally his brother, and an inferior -domestic; no other dared approach him. Thus far he had triumphed. - -For the rest, stunned and enfeebled, it was to him but as a dark -bewildered dream, wherein he played his part; nor knew whether friend or -foe were standing by his side, if those who loved, or those who hated -him, were mingling in the solemn rite. The darkness of the sepulchre -seemed to have engulphed every sense or feeling of his soul. - -He was taken home from the church almost in a state of insensibility, -from which it seems that he awoke only too soon to consciousness and -woe. Late in the evening, at dark, he was heard by some of the awed -domestics seeking the deserted apartment of their mistress, and the -following morning was not to be found within the house. - -This was reported, and after some search the miserable young man was -discovered, wet with the dews of heaven, stretched upon the turf which -enclosed the family mausoleum, which had been open to receive the -remains of his mother, and where he had probably lain all night. - -He was carried back to his chamber, and placed under medical care, his -brother showing much anxious solicitude on his behalf. The doctor, -however, the common attendant on the family, pronounced his malady to be -merely the effect of long fasting, watching and mental distress, and -which it only required proper measures to allay; whilst for the better -assurance of these measures being carried out, the worthy practitioner -placed his patient under the peculiar care and superintendance of his -great ally, Mrs. Marryott, whose skill and prudence he held in most -subservient and sycophantish esteem. And with most seeming assiduity, -Mrs. Marryott entered upon the duties thus imposed. - -If anything were likely to fan into flame the fever, already raging in -the veins of the unhappy Eustace it would be, as is easily to be -supposed, this most repugnant infliction he was powerless to resist. In -vain he protested, as far as his feeble strength would allow him, -against the repugnant imposition of such odious services upon him, -entreating the assistance of his brother in his release, repulsing the -detested woman's attentions, and refusing to touch the food or medicines -offered by her hand. - -His brother soothed or reasoned. The doctor told him he must not be -agitated--felt his pulse, shook his head. Still that Marryott's hateful -face, with its serpent smile, hung over him, uttering smooth words in -oily accents in his shrinking ear, or creeping noiselessly about the -room, whilst his fascinated eye fain would follow loathingly. No wonder, -then, maddened and excited, that the fever raged more intensely, till, -mounting higher and higher, his very brain seemed on fire; every image, -loved or hated, became distorted and indistinct to his mind; till, -finally, he lay prostrate, raving, struggling, delirious, beneath the -power of that fearful malady, which had attacked him once before--a -brain fever! - - * * * * * - -It was a cold, stormy November night. The father and son sat together -close beside the library fire, after dinner; the latter musing absently -over a newspaper he held before him, the former deep in the examination -of an old leather pocket-book, where accounts and memorandums concerning -money matters were noted down. - -The door opened; both looked sharply round: it was Marryott. She put her -head in at the door, and begged Mr. Eugene to come and speak to her. -Eugene turned pale, started up, and hastened to obey the summons. Mr. -Trevor looked after him, put his note-book carefully into his pocket, -picked up, and appeared to peruse the newspaper his son had thrown down; -but ever and anon, at every sound that met his ear, his small dark eye -might be seen peering eagerly towards the door. - -"Well, well," turning eagerly towards Eugene, as he entered, looking -still paler than when he left the room, but taking his seat as before, -without speaking a word; "well, well, what's the matter? Where have you -been?" - -"With Marryott, talking to her. Panton has just come." - -"Well, well--how is he?--worse?" - -"Why, yes--I cannot say there is much improvement; but here's Marryott," -as the door again opened; "she can tell you more about him and Panton's -opinion." - -Marryott entered, and stationed herself beside Mr. Trevor's chair, -keeping her eyes fixed upon Eugene, as he sat leaning his elbows on his -knees, and looking nervously down upon the ground. - -"Well, well, Marryott, is he very bad? What does Panton think of him -now?" - -"He thinks very badly of him, indeed, Mr. Trevor," was her answer, in a -solemn, mysterious voice. - -"Really, really; Does he think that he will die?" - -The woman cleared her throat. - -"No, not quite that, though some might think it even worse." - -She paused, and tried to catch Eugene's pertinaciously averted eye. - -"Go on, go on. What, in the name of Heaven, is it then? Is he mad?" - -"It is shocking to see him, Sir," Marryott hastened to rejoin, as if not -sorry to have been spared the direct utterance of this communication; -"and Mr. Panton has great fears whether his reason is not to an alarming -degree affected. He cannot leave him; his violence becomes frightfully -increased. Mr. Eugene saw how he was just now. If this continues, some -measures must be taken. It is very dangerous to those about him." - -She paused. - -"Eh! Eugene, Eugene! This won't do, Eugene! What is to be done?" -exclaimed the old man, in sudden panic, as he looked up. "He can't come -here--can he? Dangerous! Why, he must not stay here then. I can't keep a -madman in the house. Put him on a straight-waistcoat, and take him to -the asylum till he is better. I won't have him here, I tell you," cried -the tender father. - -"Hush, Sir, pray!--this is going too far," said Eugene, rising, and -looking very grave and shocked. "I hope nothing so very extreme as this -will be necessary, though indeed at present my brother is in a very -fearful state. Panton has just sent for his assistant, as I should wish -to keep the servants out of the way as much as possible; it would be -making the dreadful affair too public." - -"Well, well, what does that matter? It must come out some time or -another. Did I not always say he was mad?" and a horrid gleam of -something like exultation passed over the old man's countenance; "did he -not always from a boy play the madman?" - -Eugene listened with attentive consideration to his father's words, then -looking up, met the significant glance of Marryott fixed upon him. - -He turned away, and stood thoughtfully gazing into the fire. A pause of -some length succeeded. Mr. Trevor had sat for some time musing, or -rather calculating also, whilst Marryott stood watching with cold -interest and curiosity, the progress of a train of thought, of which -her insinuations had kindled the first spark. - -At length Eugene felt his arm touched. His father had made his way close -up to his side. - -"I say Eugene," and he whispered--but not so low that the third person -should not overhear--some words in his ear. - -His unhappy listener shrank as if the serpent's breath had in reality -fanned his cheek. But he only shrank--he did not flee; and those "evil -thoughts" from whence stand ready to pour forth like a flood, that -fearful category of crime the gospel enumerates--were working within his -breast, waiting but that same breath to breathe them forth into life and -action. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - A light broke in upon my brain; - It ceased, and then it came again; - And then by dull degrees came back - My senses to their wonted track. - - BYRON. - - -It created no little consternation amongst the establishment of -Montrevor, when it was delicately set about, amongst them, that Mr. -Eustace Trevor, that noble, fine, generous-hearted young gentleman was -_mad_! Some, said, no wonder, coming home as he did, to find his mother, -whom he loved so well, dead. Others told how, indeed, they had been near -his room, and heard his ravings. One woman could testify of what she had -seen of his strange grief exhibited in the chamber of death. Some few -shook their heads mysteriously, but preserved discreet--though -significant silence. - -Vague reports got abroad, of course to this same effect. Neighbours -called to inquire. Mr. Trevor and his youngest son were not visible; but -the cautious answers given at the door concerning the health of Eustace, -served but to confirm the fearful suspicions now let loose. - -Some few of the suffering young man's particular friends, amongst them -young de Burgh of Silverton, made efforts to visit him in person, but -this was declared to be so perfectly impracticable, that every endeavour -of the sort was obliged to be relinquished; and at length it became -pretty generally known that Eustace Trevor was removed from Montrevor, -though it was not exactly ascertained where, and under what -circumstances. - -Eugene Trevor still kept himself shut up, inaccessible to every visitor, -and even the servants were not a set disposed to be very communicative -concerning the family affairs; indeed, immediately after Mrs. Trevor's -death, although at no time had it been on a very extensive scale, a -great reduction had been made in the establishment--it was compressed -into the smallest possible compass for the exigencies of the large -house. - -All the domestics perhaps knew on the subject was, that on a certain -day, about a fortnight after Mrs. Eustace had been taken so very ill, -Mr. Panton had brought, besides his assistant, another medical gentleman -to the house. One of the Trevor carriages had been brought round, and -Mr. Eustace was carried down stairs and conveyed away therein by the two -doctors; his state of mind--as Mrs. Marryott reported--having arrived at -a pitch which rendered it absolutely necessary that he should be placed -under more close and immediate medical treatment. - -As for Mr. Eugene, it seemed that he took his brother's condition -greatly to heart. They never saw a gentleman look so ill. He scarcely -touched a morsel of food, nor left the house to breathe the fresh air, -but sat shut up in the library with the old gentleman; which must, they -all thought, be very bad for him, both in mind and body--worse even than -going off to London and racketting there, as they heard was his wont, -though he did manage to keep it so snug and make himself such a -favourite with his father. They wondered indeed how he managed with the -old gentleman. They well knew how poor Mr. Eustace had been treated, -and should always think Mr. Trevor had helped to drive him mad; but it -was only like the proverb which says that "one man may steal a horse out -of the field, whilst another may not as much as look over the hedge." - - * * * * * - -There is a pretty looking country-house about five miles distant from -Montrevor, of which travellers as they pass generally ask the name, and -are astonished when they hear its nature and appropriation; so little, -excepting perhaps the wall surrounding the premises, is there in its -exterior, as seen from the road, calculated to give the beholder an idea -of its belonging to any such class of institution as it really does. The -interior too, on a stranger's first entrance, would not be likely to -enlighten him. There are pretty drawing-rooms below, looking upon lawns -and gardens, in which well-dressed people are seen to sit or walk; and -who give one little idea, by their carriage, behaviour, or even -sometimes by their conversation, what has brought them there, and under -which dreadful malady they are supposed to be labouring. - -They seem to be treated in the kindest manner, and entertained and -accommodated as in every way would be accordant with the immense sum -which has gained for them the privilege of an entrance into this asylum -of wealthy woe; for woe--yes, one of those worst of woes flesh is heir -to--lies concealed beneath the glittering surface of appearances such as -we are describing. And few would wish to pierce, even if allowed, -farther into "the secrets of that prison-house," lest sounds or sights -which freeze the blood and harrow the soul might be listened to and -revealed. - -In a remote chamber of this mansion, between whose close grated windows -the light of day but feebly straggled through blinds which debarred all -outward view, Eustace Trevor had opened his eyes, and for the first time -for many a day felt his brain cool, his mind clear, his vision -disentangled from those false and disturbed images which hitherto had so -tormented it, and reduced him an unconscious unresisting prey into the -hand of the enemy. The crisis had passed--a deep but healthy sleep had -succeeded. "The wild fever had swept away like an angry red cloud, and -the refreshing summer rain began to fall upon the parched earth." - -But where and under what circumstances did this change find him? - -He had no assured remembrance of what had been. It only seemed to him at -first that he had awoke out of a long, disturbed and painful slumber, of -which confused dreams and horrid visions had composed the greater -portion. He felt that he had been ill, and was feeble beyond -description--too feeble at first to turn his eyes around--to raise his -hands, upon which, clasped together on his breast, there seemed to lay, -as upon his other limbs, some dead and oppressive weight. - -He closed his eyes--the light, faint as it was, pained his long -unconscious sight--and yielded himself again to that passive state of -immovability to which he seemed reduced. - -He lay for some time in this manner, memory and consciousness working -their way by dull degrees within his soul. There was a profound -stillness reigning round him, which induced the drowsiness of -exhaustion, and he was relapsing into a half wakeful dose, when the -rumbling of carriage-wheels broke faintly on the silence; and soon -after, a confused movement in the house more effectually, but still -vaguely aroused his attention. Then followed the hushed sound of human -voices; and one, raised above all others, in a terrible, but, as it -were, quickly stifled shriek, caused him fearfully to start up in a -sitting posture upon the bed. - -He heard no other sound but that of a door being closed and fastened -heavily, and, as it seemed, at no great distance from his own. Yet at -the same moment, as by an instinctive sympathy with the ideas suggested -in his mind, he tried to move his arms once more. Still they resisted -every freedom of action. He struggled--he looked--he felt what a cold, -leaden power it was, that thus constrained them, and strength seemed to -return as fiercely. The unfortunate Eustace struggled to tear his wrists -asunder. But no--more than the strength of a stronger man than he was -needed to tear away those bonds; for it was under no mere physical -weakness, but bonds of iron, against which he had to contend, and his -efforts served but to gall and bruise the limbs they encircled. - -Eustace gazed around him. His eyes fixed upon the grated window, and a -look of indescribable horror stole over that fine but emaciated -countenance. He tried to put his feet to the ground, and found them too -strongly bound together; but still he managed to move them from the bed -upon the floor, and thus he sat, and again gazed round his prison walls. - -Suddenly a man appeared by his side. The captive--for such he might be -called--met the firm, peculiar regard this person fixed upon him, with -the full, clear glance of his powerful dark eyes; then looking down at -the chains which bound him, said in a tone of earnest, but composed -inquiry: - -"Good heavens! do you mean to say that all this has been necessary? -Where am I? Where is Mr. Panton? Can I speak to him?" - -"Mr. Panton is not in attendance at present upon you; but there is -another gentleman, who will visit you at the appointed time. He is now -engaged." - -"Oh, very well; but at least be so good as to relieve me from these -shackles. I am perfectly sane now, you see, at any rate; and weak -enough, God knows! to be perfectly harmless," he added, as sinking back -upon the pillows, he faintly offered his hands for the required release. - -"When Dr. Miller arrives, Sir," replied the man, "I have no doubt your -wishes will be obeyed; but I cannot take upon myself to do anything of -the kind without his authority. In less than an hour he will be here. -Till then, Sir," with decision, turning the bed-clothes over the -patient, "be so good as to lie as quiet as possible, and take this light -nourishment I have brought you." - -"No, no, Sir! Till Dr. Miller arrives, I consent--because I have no -power to do otherwise--to lie here chained like a maniac, but not a drop -of nourishment do I take till I am at liberty to receive it in my own -hands. To have it sent down my throat that way, I cannot allow; so -attempt it on your peril. You see as well as possible that I am not -_mad_ now, if I have ever been so, which I very much doubt. I have had a -brain fever I imagine. I had one once before in my life; but this last -may have been more violent in its effects, and at its height I suppose I -was incarcerated as a lunatic here. You see, Sir, I have a pretty clear -idea of the true state of the case, so take care what you do. And now be -so good as to let this Dr. Miller be sent to me with as little delay as -possible." - -The keeper, for such he was, did not attempt any further parley. He -only said soothingly that he should be obeyed, watched his noble-looking -charge turn and resettle himself as conveniently as he could, with an -air of disdainful pride, upon his pallet-couch, and departed to report -concerning him. - -In about an hour Dr. Miller arrived. Eustace fixed his eyes calmly and -firmly upon him as he stood by his bedside, looking gravely and -anxiously into his patient's face. But when the medical man proceeded in -the same way to feel his pulse, Eustace said, yielding with a wan smile -his fettered wrists: - -"I think, Doctor, you will be able to manage that better without these -cuffs--ornaments which I can, if you please, dispense with at your -leisure." - -But the doctor with silent deliberation performed his office; then -relaxing his hold, and fixing his eyes again earnestly on his patient, -said after another silent pause: - -"Yes, Sir, you are better--certainly better; and a week or two of quiet -I hope may perfectly restore you. Jefferies, you are wanted." - -And in obedience to his sign, the assistant, who reappeared at the -moment, proceeded to undo the fastenings of both legs and arms; and -whilst so doing, the doctor and his factotum significantly looked at -each other, as on removing the clumsy apparatus intended as handcuffs, -the fearfully lacerated and wounded state of poor Eustace Trevor's -wrists became visible. - -"These are, indeed, awkward customers," whispered the man. - -"Most unnecessary!" was the low-toned reply. - -The fact was, that the ignorant, time-serving village doctor--a -particular ally of Marryott's,--had taken upon himself thus to torture -the insensible man, knowing perfectly that the greater semblance of -insanity he could substantiate in his patient, the more he should gain -favour in the sight of Marryott and her employers. - -Eagerly the imprisoned one sat up, and watched the progress of this -operation, as if like an enchained eagle awaiting his release to spread -his wings and take its sunward flight. But at the same moment as the -bonds relaxed their hold, a sudden faintness came over him, and sinking -back again upon his pillow, he gasped an entreaty for water. - -It was given to him, with other restoratives. The doctor forbade him to -speak, gave further orders to the assistant, and left the room. And that -day, and the next, and throughout the week, Eustace was treated as any -other man recovering from a dangerous fever might have been; and day -after day, as gradually he felt his strength returning, was he the more -content to submit calmly, and patiently, to the discipline to which he -was subjected--the perfect quiet imposed upon him, feeling as he did, -that thus the sooner would he be able to exact that explanation as to -his present position, and his release therefrom, which he so earnestly -desired. - -We will not attempt to imagine the thoughts and feelings which must have -worked within the soul of the sick man, as he lay there, within that -grated chamber. - -"Fearfulness and trembling have taken hold upon me, and a horrible dread -has overwhelmed me." - -The very idea of finding himself in such a place, was enough of itself -to affect the strongest mind with revolting feelings. But with that -idea, the dark doubt, and uncertainty as to the circumstances attendant -on his position--whether the cause had really justified the dreadful -measures which had been employed; or if--equally revolting idea!--the -unnatural persecution which had haunted him from his birth, had taken -this last dark means of wreaking itself on its victim; if so, to what -extent might it not be carried? And at the best, had not enough already -been done to fix the brand of madness for ever on his name-- - - "Blighting his life in best of his career." - -We need not say, how agonizing thoughts of his late mother mingled with -this sterner woe, how he seemed to float alone on a stormy sea of -trouble, that star of light which once alone had illumined his darkness, -now withdrawn to shine upon a higher, purer sphere, till in moments of -despair he was tempted, poor, unfortunate young man! to implore of -Heaven that those deep black waters might engulph him for ever in their -depth--that he might die! for "what now was his life good unto him?" - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - Feel I not wrath with those who placed me here, - Who have debased me in the minds of men, - Debarring me the usage of my own, - Blighting my life in best of its career, - Branding my thoughts as things to spurn and fear. - - BYRON. - - -A week passed thus, and at the close, Eustace was not only permitted to -leave his bed, but was removed during the day to a lower room, opening -upon an enclosed court, into which, though still feeble, he was -permitted to stroll at his pleasure, undisturbed by the sight or -presence of any of the wretched inmates of the establishment. Here his -proud form at length one day confronted the doctor; and as he drew near, -to inquire after his patient, Eustace thus accosted him: - -"Having so far recovered, Doctor, I suppose you will now be so good as -to satisfy my mind by answering a few questions I am naturally anxious -to put to you. First of all, how long may I have remained in that house -before I became conscious of being chained up like a wild beast in his -den?" - -"My dear Sir, it is our practice never to allow our patients to agitate -or excite themselves by any discussion upon the subject of their late -illnesses; but I may tell you so far, that you came under my charge here -the night before the day from which I may date the period of your -convalescence." - -"And in what state was I conveyed here? I now seem to have some slight -recollection of feeling myself borne along in a carriage; but it is all -confused like the rest." - -"No doubt, Sir; but your question I must beg to decline answering: it is -one of those which are forbidden." - -"And by whose authority was I committed to this place, may I be -permitted to inquire _that_?" - -The doctor hesitated, but looking on his patient, there was something in -his countenance and demeanour which seemed to exert its due weight on -one--the secret of whose profession was influence over others, and a -thorough knowledge of the workings of the countenances of those with -whom they have to deal. - -"By the proper authorities in such cases, Sir--the certificates of two -medical practitioners and your near relation." - -"My father, I conclude?" - -"No, Sir; the party who stood forward on this occasion, was your -brother." - -"My brother!" - -Those words were repeated as if with them a weight of lead had fallen on -the listener's heart, and stunned it. - -Eustace Trevor stood transfixed for a moment, in silent thought; then -turning from the doctor's inquisitive gaze, took two or three turns -along the grass, with folded arms, and head sunk low upon his bosom. - -At last he paused, and stood once more before the doctor, who still -remained steadfastly regarding him. - -"I suppose, at any rate, that now, Sir, there can be no reason for my -remaining any longer under your charge?" - -"I hope, indeed, Mr. Trevor, that there may be but a very little time -necessary." - -"_Necessary!_ No, I should think not. To-night, Sir, it is my wish to -leave your establishment." - -The doctor smiled soothingly. - -"Come, my dear Sir, not quite so fast as all that--you are not -quite--quite well yet." - -"Quite well, Sir, as far as concerns your branch of the profession; and -when I tell you that, it is my firm conviction that I never ought to -have been here, and that I shall take care to make this generally known, -I think you will see the expediency of making no attempt to detain me, -contrary to my inclination." - -The doctor again smiled compassionately. When were his unhappy patients -ever known to remain, according to their own pleasure, within those -walls? - -"Very well, Sir--very well; no threats are needed--I only wait your -friends' consent." - -"_My friends!_" and there was a mournful intonation on these words. -"Well, Sir," with a commanding air, "be so good as to gain that consent -as soon as possible--my father's, my brother's, and of one called Mabel -Marryott, I conclude. I might not be so inclined to await patiently -their decision, were I not unwilling," glancing at the high wall -surrounding him, and towards the spot where he knew a keeper, in the -absence of the doctor, watched his movements unseen, "to employ that -physical force, which I see is expected in this place." - -The doctor bowed complacently and withdrew, after stealing a significant -look at his attendant minister. But the warning it intended to imply, -was not needed. The spirit of Eugene Trevor was bowed down to the very -dust with its load of bitterness. - -He returned into the house, and remained that evening plunged in a dark -dejection, which he felt the necessity of shaking off, lest that -horrible thing should indeed creep over his mind, of which he was -accused. - -The following morning he again made application to Dr. Miller concerning -his release, but received only an equivocal reply. - -His brother was from home, and the necessary answer was not to be -obtained; his father--he was ill, and they feared to bring the subject -before him. Eustace reasoned, then commanded as to the expediency of -waiving all such forms, and his dismissal being given without further -prevarication or delay. This was declined civilly, as to a reasonable -being; but still the mind of the unfortunate prisoner was irritated and -goaded, by perceiving that every precaution was taken for the security -of his person. He was loth to having recourse to any violent attempt to -perpetrate his escape; but when one day, after time had gone on, and he -plainly saw that some other authority than the doctor's influenced his -detention; a feeling almost of real distraction began to take possession -of his mind, and he determined that those hated walls should hold him no -longer--that like a very madman, if it must be so, he would break his -bonds and make the very neighbourhood ring with the wrongs he had -received. - -Though his noble spirit pined, his physical strength was returning. He -often measured with his eye the form of the keeper, who so skilfully -managed to dog his steps and movements, and thought how little it would -take him, if it ever was needed, to fell that, comparatively speaking, -puny form to the ground, or that of any one who attempted to oppose his -lawful exit from that house. A providential accident came at length to -his aid. - -One afternoon, when seated drearily, meditating over his fate, and -endeavouring to invent expedients for his immediate emancipation, in the -private sitting-room accorded to him, he heard a noise in the passage--a -scraping of feet and sounds of horrid laughter. All this had become -natural to his ear; but it just occurred to him to look out of the door -into the anteroom, where his constant _attaché_ was generally in -attendance. He was gone. Some peculiar exigency had demanded his -immediate services towards the unfortunate, whose voice he had just -heard. - -A few hasty strides and Eustace was in the outer corridor: it was empty. -He stood one second irresolute, which way to turn; then offered up a -silent prayer to Heaven and started forward, he knew not whither. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall, - Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall. - - TENNYSON. - - -The shades of evening were closing over Montrevor, and candles had just -been lighted in the library, earlier than usual, as it seemed, for the -completion of some urgent business with which its occupants were -employed. - -There were three individuals seated round the writing-table: Mr. Trevor, -his son Eugene, and a third person, who, with pen in hand, with -parchment opened before him, looked what he really was--a lawyer. He -wrote some time in silence, the old man rocking himself backwards and -forwards in his chair, as if nervous and weary; and the other leaning -over the table, watching the proceedings of the scribe with anxious -interest plainly revealed in his dark, but handsome countenance. At -length, finishing with a flourish, the man of business looked up, and -asked for the witnesses. - -Eugene Trevor was about hastily to rise and ring the bell, when, as if -by fortunate coincidence, Mabel Marryott entered the room. - -"Oh, exactly; here is one, at any rate," he said, resuming his seat; and -the woman advancing, was directed by the lawyer to sign the papers on -which he had been occupied. - -Marryott still held the pen in her hand, having accomplished the act, -and was glancing at her master's son with something of a congratulatory -leer upon her countenance, as he bent over eagerly towards the document, -whilst Mr. Trevor's shrill voice, at the same moment, was raised in -irritated inquiry, as to who was to be the other witness; exclaiming, -that they had better make haste and call some one else, and let the -business be at an end. - -"No need of that--_I_ am here as witness!" exclaimed a deep, low voice, -whose thrilling tones burst upon the listeners' ears like thunder before -the lightning flash. - -Three of the assembled party, at least--the father, the son and that -guilty woman--shrank from the fire of that dark, full eye, which glanced -accusingly down upon them; for Eustace Trevor stood suddenly in the -midst, at the very table round which was collected the startled group. - -A faint shriek escaped the lips of Mr. Trevor, accompanied by the words: - -"Secure him--he is mad!" - -But no one stirred. There was something more powerful than the fear of -madness in their hearts, which kept the others rooted to the spot -whereon they sat or stood. - -The lawyer indeed, as was most natural considering the reported facts on -which his late business had been founded, cast a timid glance towards -the door, and, had he dared, would have risen to seek that aid which he -concluded would be requisite. - -There was besides something in the appearance of the unhappy man before -him, which accorded with Mr. A.'s preconceived idea of his circumstances -and condition--his countenance wild and haggard from the recent -excitement and exertion which had attended his escape, as well as from -the uneffaced effects of grief and illness--his disordered and unusual -appearance; and the lawyer turned a glance towards his brother, to -ascertain what was to be done; but Eugene sat shrinking and ashy pale, -endeavouring but in vain to meet with anything like composure, that -steadfast glance the _madman_ fixed upon his face. - -A touch upon his arm, made Mr. A. look round. It was Mabel Marryott who -thus sought to attract his attention; and in obedience to her -significant glance, he was about to rise stealthily and leave the room, -when a voice of stern command detained him. - -"Be so good, Sir, as to remain where you are for the present. I may be -allowed perhaps to glance my eye over this document, in which I have my -suspicions I am in no small degree concerned." - -There was no resisting the tone in which these words were uttered. No -hand save one, and that a woman's, was raised to prevent the firm but -quiet movement with which the speaker stretched forth his hand and -lifted the parchment from the table--Mabel Marryott alone made a sharp -but ineffectual movement, as if with all the power of her malignant will -she would have secured the paper from the wronged one's grasp. - -Perfect silence reigned whilst Eustace Trevor stood and read the paper -through from beginning to end--a deed which, under plea of his own -insanity and consequent incompetency, signed over to his brother Eugene, -as guardian and trustee, the whole management and power over the -entailed estate of Montrevor and the property appertaining thereto, at -such time as he, Eustace Trevor, as heir-at-law, should by the testator -Henry Trevor's death, come into nominal possession. - -This, of course drawn out with legal amplitude and precision, Eustace -attentively perused; then, when some probably were expecting its -destruction, the document was calmly replaced upon the table. - -"And now, Sir," turning to the lawyer, "you will perhaps do me the -favour to withdraw; and you, woman, I desire you to do the same." - -It was wonderful to see the power which the calm and lofty indignation, -swelling in that wronged man's breast, seemed to exercise over the -minds of those who so late had triumphantly trampled upon his very -heart. - -As for the lawyer, he hesitated not to rise, and prepare to obey that -implied command; for he saw that neither of his employers were inclined -to interfere. - -The old man sat as one paralyzed, and the younger with compressed lips, -and contracted downcast brow, seemed to await in sullen silence and -discomfort the issue of the powerful scene; and Marryott even, though -she paused for a moment, considered better of it, and swept from the -apartment with the air of a Lady Macbeth. Those three were then left -together alone. The injured face to face with the foes of his own -household--his father and his brother! - -What should he say to these? or rather to him--his brother? To the -other, he had long ceased to look but as on one who had forfeited all -right to the name of father. "For what one amongst ye, who if his son -ask a fish will he give him a serpent; or if he ask for bread will give -him a stone," and by what better manner of speech figure forth all that -old man had ever done by him, his luckless son? Nay, if this were -all--if he could but have paused here, and forgotten how that father had -played the part of husband to a sainted mother; but he looked not on -_him_ now--he looked only to him, that mother's son; from whom, in spite -of all he might have ever had to reprobate and forgive, it had not -entered into his thoughts to conceive cruel perfidy such as that, of -which since entering that room he had become but the more fully -convinced he had been made the victim; and the bitterness of -death--during that first instant that he thus stood reading in his -brother Eugene's sullen, downcast brow, a too certain confirmation of -his guilt--overwhelmed his soul. - -But it passed over, and was gone; and a just and righteous indignation -re-asserted its dominion in its place. - -"Eugene," he said, "that paper," and he pointed to the legal document -before him, "throws but too clear a light on the transactions of which I -have been made the victim. Oh, how could you allow that demon, -covetousness, to gain such empire over your heart? Cain, in the angry -passion of the moment, slew his brother; but you, in cold-blooded -calculation, could bend yourself to an act which time and -circumstances, perhaps remote, could alone turn to your advantage." - -"Eustace!" stammered his brother; "I excuse this intemperate language on -your part, for of course you cannot appreciate the circumstances of the -case; but any one would be ready to justify the necessary, but painful, -course of conduct to which we were reduced. In whatever state of mind -you may be now, there are others to testify as to the fact--" - -"Pshaw! justify--who will justify one, who, during the temporary -delirium of a brain fever, confined his own brother to a madhouse! -affixed to his name that stamp and stigma which must cling to it for the -remainder of his days; or, still more unwarrantable and cruel, the -evident attempts to detain him in that madhouse, long after any -reasonable possible excuse was afforded? But I can plainly read the -motive which thus influenced you--too plainly, alas! Eugene, two months -ago I had not conceived such conduct possible; but I know you _now_. I -think I can pretty well divine what has been the course of conduct you -have pursued; you have been to London, perhaps--" - -He paused. There was no denial. - -"You went to your clubs; and there very surely took means to establish -the fact of your eldest brother's melancholy condition--his insanity, -his confinement!" - -Eugene Trevor in a hoarse and angry voice would have attempted some -reply, but Eustace's indignant voice overpowered him. - -"And then you brought that man down," he continued, "to fill up the -measure of your iniquity, and one scratch of the pen alone was needed -now to make it good. Let it be done. That paper of his, that base and -villainous forgery, now lies before me at my mercy. But I scorn to touch -it. I treat it as it is--a worthless, valueless nothing. If I but chose -to follow your example--go, call my friends and neighbours about me, -declare before them all the unnatural fraud which has been practised -upon me; yes, show them this," and he bared his blackened, wounded -wrists, "and ring in their astounded ears, what, and _for what_, it -entered a brother's heart to conceive an act of such atrocity; then, do -you think that I could not manage to make those who knew, and cared for -me, credit my testimony before that of an abandoned woman and two -ignorant time-serving country doctors? Ask Dr. Miller, would he even -dare to say, my attack was anything but the temporary delirium of -fever?" - -"Merciful heavens, Eugene!" murmured Mr. Trevor, trying in an under tone -to gain his younger son's attention, without being heard by the other. -"Is there no one at hand to stop him--to secure him?" - -But Eustace caught the muttered syllables, and turned sternly round. - -"No one, Sir; who will dare to do it? Think not that I entered _your_ -house without precaution against what I there had every reason to -expect. These," drawing a brace of pistols from his pocket, "I found -opportunity to obtain; and should one of these poor trembling menials by -your orders, dare--" - -"Eugene! Eugene! are they loaded? for the love of Heaven save me; he -will murder us all!" Mr. Trevor exclaimed in terror. - -"Eustace! this is indeed madness!" the brother would have said, but -shame choked the words within his throat; "this violence is most -uncalled for. What motive could there now be on our part for having -recourse to such expedients as you seem to fear. I assure you, you are -quite at liberty to remain, or depart at your pleasure; and as for what -has been done, I am quite ready to answer for my conduct," he added -doggedly, "if you choose to drag the matter forward so publicly." - -"Would you be so prepared, Eugene? Dare not repeat that falsehood, -wretched man. Fear not, I will not drag you forward to such a test. I -hate, I curse you not for what you have done, but the cause, the sin -which brought you to commit it. I do abhor, nay, I am sickened unto -death, of the very world in which I have suffered so much, and in which -sin so despicable and revolting can exist; still more with the home (if -it be not sacrilege to use that hallowed name in such a case) in which -it asserts such hateful power. The very air I breathe beneath it seems -to choke me; if all the gold which fills the coffers of its master were -laid in heaps before my feet, that would not make it tolerable to my -heart. Rejoice then, when I swear that never under this roof together -with you two--my most unnatural relations, shall I again set my foot. I -have borne and suffered too much within its walls. I willingly resign -all sonship, brotherhood, with those who have trampled on every human -tie. I leave you to carry out, as far as in you lies, your hearts' -desires. I shake the very dust off my feet, and depart. I leave this -place to-night, this country, perhaps, to-morrow, caring not that for -the present the stigma you have cast upon my name must remain. You, Sir, -should we never meet again on earth, may Heaven forgive! _You_, Eugene, -farewell; _we_ may meet again in this world, but never again as -brothers." - -He turned, and was gone. None saw him depart. He went out into the dark -night; and many within that house who had heard of his startling -arrival, concluded that he had been secretly restored to the asylum from -which he had made his escape. Only a few days after, an old servant, -much attached to Mrs. Trevor and her second son, who on his dismissal -from Montrevor had served Eustace during his residence at Oxford, -appeared at the hall, with authority from his master to gather and pack -up all the effects belonging to him; and having done so without -molestation, he silently conveyed them away. - -He threw no light upon the subject, or on his master's destination. -Indeed, it was soon afterwards ascertained, by those chiefly interested -in the matter, that he was equally ignorant on the point as themselves. - -Eugene Trevor remained for some time at Montrevor, then returned to the -world, to find the general impression apparently continuing as it was -before, concerning the derangement and consequent confinement of his -brother. Then it was deemed advisable to report that the unhappy young -man was so far recovered, that he had gone abroad under proper -guardianship; and the world, too busy with its own affairs to keep up -any long-sustained interest or inquiry into the fate and fortune of -those removed out of their light, were contented to suppose this to be -the case; and when some years had run their course, as we have seen, and -nothing more had been seen or heard of the unhappy Eustace Trevor, many -gave him up as lost for ever to society, and Eugene, gay, prosperous, -and invested with all importance and privilege in his father's house, -had soon assumed in the eyes of the world a certain--though it might be -somewhat equivocal--position as heir, under some few restrictions, to -the property and estates of Montrevor. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - Fain would I fly the haunts of men; - I seek to shun, not hate mankind. - My breast requires the sullen glen, - Whose gloom may suit a darkened mind. - Oh that to me the wings were given - Which bear the turtle to her nest! - Then would I cleave the vault of Heaven, - To flee away, and be at rest. - - BYRON. - - -On the borders of a lake in one of the wildest and most remote parts of -North Wales, stands a rude inn, the resort, during the proper season of -the year, of those who for the sake of the fishing the lake affords, are -content to put up with the homely fare and simple accommodation it -affords. But when that time has passed away--when the calm, glittering -lake is deformed by constant rains, and lashed into fury by the driving -storms of winter--when those majestic mountains have exchanged their -ever-varying glories for mists and blackness, have donned their wintry -garb, and are in character with wintry skies--there cannot be imagined a -more desolate and dreary scene than that spot presents; and the inn, of -course, stands comparatively tenantless. Yet for three whole winter -months, a gentleman of whom none of nobler appearance had ever perhaps -honoured it with their presence, made that humble hostelry his abode. - -Alone he came, and alone he remained. He dispatched or received no -communication from beyond those mist-covered mountains which surrounded -him; but little did those simple, unsophisticated people care to wonder -or inquire. Unimportuned by curiosity, the visitor pursued his solitary -existence, climbing those bleak and trackless mountains, or tossing upon -the stormy lake. No sound of human voice, but in the uncouth and unknown -language of the country, scarcely every falling on his ear. - -He had some few books with him, but he scarcely read, save in one, the -Bible. Plenty of money the stranger was provided with, for he paid his -expenses handsomely, and gave often freely to those few poor who came -in his way; but yet his very name remained a mystery, if that could be -called mystery, which none cared to inquire or ascertain; and when the -first warm beams of springtide sun melted the snow upon the -mountain-tops, as suddenly as he came, so he departed, none knew or -asked whither. - -But he did not, as it seems, go far. In a small Welsh town, not twenty -miles distant, a few days after, and that stranger, who it seemed had, -uninjured, so roughly exposed himself to the fatigues and inclemency of -the wintry weather during his sojourn in his late retreat, lay -dangerously ill in a comfortable little inn belonging to the place; -unknown here also, but tended with all the disinterested care and -kindness which seldom fails to cheer the stranger in that mountain land. -Skilful medical attendance was happily provided; and the fever, against -whose advances the sufferer, with a peculiarly nervous dread, seemed to -battle--by proper means was subdued, and the sick man partially -recovered. - -As he lay upon his bed one of the first mornings after his -convalescence, a merry peal from the bells of the neighbouring church -burst upon his ear. Merrier and merrier they continued to ring, and the -invalid turned sadly and wearily round upon his pillow, as if he would -fain have escaped from sounds of joy, harmonizing so little with his -lonely heart. - -"Truly there is a joy with which the stranger intermeddleth not." - -But still those sounds, as if in very mockery and despite, continued to -clash forth at intervals during the day, caring little for the sick -hearts and wounded spirits upon which that merriment might chance to -jar. - -"You are very gay," the stranger said with a melancholy smile to his -landlady, when she came to attend him that day; and the remark was -answered by the ready information, that the bells were this day ringing -on occasion of a marriage which that morning had taken place in the -neighbourhood, the bride being a young lady of a family of long standing -in these parts. The gentleman, a widower and a Scotchman, &c. But all -this her listener heeded not. - - * * * * * - - "Bells thou soundest merrily - When the bridal party - To the church doth hie; - Bells thou soundest solemnly, - When on Sabbath mornings, - Fields deserted lie." - -It was Sunday morning, and all the people of the place were flocking to -the Welsh service of the church; but the English stranger mingled not -with these. No--rather as he had turned wearily away from the mad music -of the marriage-bell, did his languid footsteps turn aside, when now in -more solemn cadence it sounded in his ear. - -Not as yet was his soul attuned to enter that house of God, and offer up -prayers and praises with a thankful heart. To that lonely man, it would -have been indeed requiring a song, a melody, in his heaviness--to "sing -the Lord's song in a strange land." - -He left the quiet town--crossed the bridge above the swift-flowing -river, and wandered far away, slowly, as his partially-renewed strength -alone would admit, and resting often, but still as if he breathed more -freely the farther and farther he felt himself proceeding from the -haunts of men; whilst at every step he took, beauty and magnificence, -decking that bright spring morning in their best array, met his -enchanted view; and the sense of enjoyment seemed to return, and that of -loneliness to be--removed. - -For the young man's mood was one of those most sensitively to realise -the idea, that "high mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human -cities torture." - -Thus he wandered on, till a hamlet, crowned by the woods of one or two -gentlemen's seats, came in view; and he was forced by his weakness to -stop, and crave a cup of milk at a quiet farm in its outskirts, its -simple inmates also inviting him to sit down and rest; and then he found -that time had passed much swifter than he thought, for it was long past -noon. - -Whilst he was lingering still, the church bells here too began to ring; -and Eustace Trevor (for he it was) felt that he could not escape from -the voice which seemed to cry unto his soul: "Let us go up into the -house of the Lord." - -The little church appeared to be almost empty, when he first entered; -but an old lady and gentleman came in at the same time, and seeing the -stranger, immediately offered him a seat in their large square pew; and -he, though far from willingly, could not but accept the civility. - -Other members were added to the congregation, and then a clergyman of -infirm appearance entered the reading-desk, awaiting but that the noise -of the school-children's feet mounting to the little gallery should -cease, to commence in a feeble voice the service. - -Inattentive the ear--insensible the heart of that man who, having -suffered deeply, finds himself unaffected, when first, after some period -of cessation, prayer after prayer, clause after clause of our beautiful -Liturgy breathes upon his ear. - -Eustace Trevor was not that man; and fervent were the emotions inspired -in a breast which long had yielded itself to a kind of morbid gloomy -insensibility; and it was, perhaps, only the presence of strangers which -rendered him able to restrain them from their more open demonstration. -Not, however, was it until the wild voices of the mountain children, -enriched by notes of less untamed beauty, were raised in songs of -praise, that any outward object diverted the absorption of his rapt -spirit. - -Then Eustace Trevor lifted up his eyes, and could not fail to remark -three young ladies also in the gallery, who stood side by side, mingling -their voices with the humble choir; and their appearance at once fixed -his attention, not so much for any personal beauty they might possess, -as for the goodness, innocence, and unaffected devotion shining so -clearly on each upturned face. In proof of which it might have been -observed, that after the first general glance over the group, it was not -so much on the elder of the sisters, lovely in a most striking degree, -neither upon the blooming Hebe of fifteen, as upon that pale, and -gentle-looking girl, who stood between the two, on whom the stranger's -eye more especially lingered--and loved her, even as he gazed. - -For there was something in the pensive sweetness of those eyes--the open -purity of the brow--the meek and quiet, yet high-toned spirit, which -shone from every feature of the young girl's face, that went directly to -his heart. His excited fancy even travelled so far, as to behold in her -a likeness to that being who had passed into the heavens; and once--only -once, when her voice in sweet but timid accents swelled singly in the -choir, he held his breath to catch each low, yet thrilling tone, "for it -sounds to him like his mother's voice singing in Paradise." - -Eustace Trevor returned to the inn, but more than once during the -following week did the stranger turn his pony's head towards the valley -of Ll---- (we will spare our readers a name they perhaps would not be -able to read aright); and on Sunday afternoon, he did not fail again to -seek the village church, expecting that it would be for the last -time--for he purposed departing on the morrow--it not suiting his -intentions to remain in any one place so long as to draw down upon -himself remark or inquiry. - -And perhaps a few weeks more, had he carried out his designs, might have -found him a wanderer on a foreign shore. But who can tell what a day may -bring forth? - -It was early when he arrived at the church, the bells even had not -began; and on repairing to a retired part of the church-yard, where a -lovely view was to be obtained, he suddenly came in contact with the -clergyman who had officiated the previous Sunday. - -He bowed to Eustace--who returned the salutation--and passed on with -feeble steps, having regarded the stranger somewhat curiously; but -scarcely had the latter reached his destined resting-place, when he -heard a footstep approaching, and looking round saw the clergyman had -returned, and immediately accosted him. - -"Sir," speaking with evident difficulty, "I must beg you to excuse the -liberty I am taking in thus addressing you; but may I ask--I scarcely -dare to hope it to be the case--may I ask," glancing at Eustace's black -garb, and the deep crape round his hat, "whether by any chance you are a -clergyman?" - -Eustace was taken by surprise, but a melancholy smile crossed his -features, as he looked and murmured an affirmative. - -The inquirer's countenance evidently brightened. - -"I conclude, Sir, that you are a stranger in these parts," he rejoined. -"I think I saw you here last Sunday--I scarcely know whether you will -not think me very bold, when I ask you whether you would be so very -obliging as to assist me in the service this afternoon? A friend whom I -expected has failed me at the last moment; and you will hear, by my -voice, that if I am able to get through a ten minutes' sermon, it will -be as much as I can manage." - -Eustace Trevor thought so indeed--but the sudden demand upon his -services almost bewildered him, and for a moment he was silent. The -clergyman looked a little surprised at the apparent hesitation, a -perception of which recalled Eustace to recollection. - -What right had he to refuse--what excuse could he offer? - -He looked upon the evidently suffering man, and said he should be happy -to lend him the assistance he required. - -The clergyman thanked him warmly, and they walked together to the -vestry. - -Eustace Trevor, with strange feelings, found himself thus called to -enter upon the duties of the profession, it had become almost like a -dream to him ever to have embraced. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - This man - Is of no common order, as his front - And presence here denote. - - BYRON. - - -"Oh Lord correct me, but with judgment; not in thine anger, lest thou -bring me to nothing." - -Not an eye perhaps amongst that little congregation that was not lifted -up, when, in thrilling strains, like the rich deep notes of an organ, -the stranger's voice swept through the low arches of the simple temple, -in that opening sentence of the service. - -Not one amongst them, the most simple and illiterate, who did not hold -their breath as he proceeded, lest they should lose one note of a voice - - "Most musical, most melancholy," - -which gave such new magic to each familiar word of prayer, or praise, -or exhortation he offered up. - -"Who could that be? who read the prayers, Mary?" said Selina Seaham to -her sister, when they left the church. "It is the same stranger who sat -in our pew last Sunday." - -"What a beautiful voice!" was the answer. - -"Most beautiful; but more than that, Mary, I never saw a more striking -looking person." - -"I did not look at him," was the quiet reply; "I only _felt_ that the -prayers and lessons were read as _we_ seldom hear them." - -"Poor Mr. Wynne! it was painful to listen to him afterwards. It is -really cruel that he cannot get a more regular assistant: Sir Hugh -should really manage it for him. Mary, do use your influence over the -worthy Baronet when he returns," the sister added slyly. - -Mary blushed, and shook her head. She had a short time ago yielded up -all claims upon the influence she might so largely have possessed; but -ere the following Sunday came round, the wishes of the young ladies, in -this respect, had been satisfied beyond their most sanguine -expectations. - - * * * * * - -Eustace Trevor had not been able to escape from the church, at the close -of the service, without a renewal of the clergyman's thanks for the -services he had so obligingly rendered him. Indeed, even then he did not -seem at all inclined to part from his stranger friend; and after a -little more conversation respecting the beauties of the neighbourhood, -he offered--seeing that Eustace also had his horse in readiness--to -conduct him a little _en détour_ from the route back to ----, in order -to show him the view from his own house, most romantically situated -amidst the woods on the high ground flanking the valley. Eustace could -not well decline the offer, and they rode on together. - -His companion had soon shown himself to be a man of higher birth and -education, than are usually found amongst ministers of such remote -districts of the Principality. He had been settled for many years in -this living, and was enthusiastic in his love and admiration of the -country; so much so, that it seemed not even his failing health could -induce him to relinquish his post; although, as it had been the case -this afternoon, both himself and congregation often ran the risk of -being put to great inconvenience and extremity: the asthmatic complaint -under which he laboured being of a most uncertain and capricious -character, and the English service being entirely dependant on his -powers. - -All this the good man communicated to Eustace on the way. His frank and -simple confidence on every subject connected with himself and his -concerns, without the least demonstration of curiosity respecting his -companion, winning gradually on Eustace's sensations of security and -ease, he accepted the clergyman's invitation to enter his abode; the -beauty and romantic seclusion of whose situation excited his deep -admiration and envy. - -The original, but amiable and intelligent conversation of its possessor, -won more and more on his favour and confidence; the other, on his part, -evidently felt himself to be in the society of a being to whom some more -than common degree of interest attached. His keen observant eye saw -imprinted upon that striking countenance more than any mere bodily -illness, from which the stranger reported himself to have but lately -recovered. The snares of death might have encompassed him round about, -and the pains of hell got hold of him; but they were those sorrows and -pains such as the Psalmist himself had gained such deep experience of, -rather than any physical affliction which had engraven those strong -signs there. - -It was truly, as a great writer of the day has expressed himself, "the -mournfulest face that ever was seen--an altogether tragic, -heart-affecting face. There was in it, as foundation, the softness, -tenderness, gentle affection, as of a child; but all this, as it were, -congealed into sharp, isolated, hopeless pain; a silent pain--silent and -scornful. The lip curled, as it were, in a kind of god-like disdain of -the thing that is eating out his heart; as if he whom it had power to -torture were greater than the cause." - -"The eye, too, that dark earnest eye, looking out as in a kind of -surprise, a kind of inquiry, why the world was of that sort!" - -Mr. Wynne had many questions put to him concerning the remarkable -looking stranger, from the ladies of Glan Pennant, when they met the -next day. All he could tell them was, that the stranger was perfectly -unknown to him, that he had no idea even of his name; that he now -talked of leaving the neighbourhood early that week, but Mr. Wynne -added, he was to call at the inn at ----, and hoped to find that he was -able to persuade his new acquaintance to remain and explore a little -longer the beauties of the vicinity, and at the same time, he slyly -added, "give them a second benefit of his beautiful voice." The young -ladies as slyly hoped their worthy friend might have his hopes crowned -with success. And their desire was not ungratified. The following Sunday -the beautiful voice once more made itself heard. - -A great deal had taken place to change the tenor of Eustace Trevor's -views and purposes during that one short week. Only too readily had he -yielded to the parting persuasions of Mr. Wynne, that he would at least -extend his stay beyond the day he had mentioned as having been fixed for -his departure. Nay, even as he turned his horse's head back towards -----, had the yearning desire diffused itself through his heart, that -instead of that hopeless, homeless, outcast fate to which he had devoted -himself, it could have been his lot to find a little spot of earth like -that in which this day he had first performed the duties of a -profession he had once thought to commence under such different -circumstances--a spot, from the spirit of beauty, innocence, purity and -peace, seeming to breathe around, as contrasted with that world--that -_home_, from which he had been driven, appeared to his imagination -scarcely less than a little heaven upon earth, a different sphere to any -in which he had yet existed. - -But this was but an imaginary suggestion--a dream-like fancy which -vaguely flitted across his mind, ill accordant with his dark and bitter -destiny. The very next day his new friend called. They rode out again -together, and one or two such meetings only served to strengthen between -these two men, of such different ages, characters and circumstances, -that strange and sudden liking which is often found to spring up between -two passing strangers of to-day, as necessarily as flowers expand from -bud to blossom in the course of a few sunny and dewy hours of one vernal -morning. As much then was elicited from Eustace, as revealed pretty -clearly to the other the purposeless circumstances of his present -position-- - - "A bark sent forth to sail alone, - At midnight on the moonlight sea." - -Why not then, like himself, be content to tarry in the little haven of -peace where Providence had guided him? Why again return to drift at -large upon that lonely ocean? - -Eustace Trevor shook his head with a melancholy smile, though at the -same time his pale brow flushed at the suggestion. - -"That cannot be, my good Sir," he said, "unless at least you can -guarantee for me such seclusion in this wild and lonely region of yours -as accords with the peculiar circumstances of my case. You will be -afraid of me when I say, that it is my wish to conceal my place of -destination from every person in the world, beyond these mountains, to -whom my name could possibly be known." - -Mr. Wynne paused at first, with a look of surprise; but after for a -moment steadily fixing his eyes upon the noble countenance of Eustace, -he exclaimed: - -"Not at all, not at all, my dear Sir. I am quite satisfied with -believing that you have the best reasons for such a course of conduct; -that misfortune, not any fault of your own, has reduced you to such an -alternative. And I can assure you, you have come to the right place for -getting rid of old friends or enemies, whichever they may be; for during -the twenty years I have been settled here, not one of those of whom I -formerly could boast has ever found his way unbidden over these -impregnable barriers; so set your mind at rest on that score. Come and -stay with me at my hermitage, till such time as you see fit; and then, -if you tire of the company of an old fellow like myself, we can find you -out another as secure." - -"My dear Sir, this kindness on your part is beyond the expression of -mere common thanks. Alas! were it only possible that I could avail -myself of it; but the facts connected with my present position are of -such a peculiar nature, that unless you are made fully acquainted with -them, it is impossible that you can rightly appreciate the extent of -security I desire; and yet, though your confidence, thank God! is not -misplaced, those facts are of such a sort as make it almost impossible -for me to reveal them. At the same time, of your generous trust, which -has not yet allowed you to seek enlightenment even as to my name, -nothing would induce me to take further advantage. Either I leave this -place to-morrow, or my _incognito_, as far as concerns yourself, must -be removed." - -"And why not, if that is the only alternative which presents itself, -tell your sad history to the old man; what then? In his breast it will -lie as safely buried as if you committed the secret to yonder lichened -rock. You are young, Sir; you have written in your countenance that -which bespeaks you one of a higher order of intellect and capacity than -befits this narrow sphere; but yet for a time, till this storm is blown -over, tarry here." - -We need not pursue word for word, step by step, the relation, with the -issue of which my readers are fully acquainted. We have only to say, -that Eustace Trevor finally confided his whole history to Mr. Wynne, -under the strictest promise of secrecy; and that the good man listened -with the quiet, unwondering spirit which spoke his knowledge of that -world lying in wickedness, or rather, the desperate wickedness of the -human heart; and whilst clearly perceiving the morbid nature of the -feelings which had prompted the victim of such wickedness to so -extraordinary a course of proceeding, the interest of his own romantic -mind was but the more excited; and keenly he entered into every plan -which might facilitate the detention of Eustace, taking upon himself to -have, accompanied with all secrecy and silence, every arrangement made -necessary to his comfort and convenience. Even with regard to the -assumed name the latter saw it expedient to embrace, and to which he did -not see any objection, Mr. Wynne came to his aid. - -He had once, many years ago, a dear friend named Edward Temple, now no -more--by such he should be known for the present, and under that -appellation he should yield him any voluntary assistance in the duties -of his profession as might accord with his taste and inclination. So -then it was arranged, and under these circumstances the so-named Edward -Temple became established at Ll----. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - I never thought a life could be - So flung upon one hope, as mine, dear love, on thee. - - N. P. WILLIS. - - -No sooner did old Mr. Majoribanks learn from the rector that he had -prevailed upon Mr. Temple to fix his residence amongst them, than he was -anxious to pay the stranger every possible attention and civility, -calling upon him to invite him to dinner, or do anything that might -contribute in any way to his comfort and happiness. But Mr. Wynne was -obliged to subdue this impulse of hospitality, making the good old -gentleman and his family to understand that Mr. Temple being driven, by -some heavy private affliction, to the alleviation of his sorrows by -solitude and seclusion, the kindest thing would be, for the present, -till the poignancy of his feelings should be softened by time, to -refrain as much as possible from crossing his wishes in this respect. -The inmates of Glan Pennant, in the most delicate manner, respected and -carried out these instructions; so that, by some gentle and gradual -attraction, rather than by any outward effort on their part, did the -recluse seem finally drawn towards them in more close and intimate -communication; till finally, he became not only, as at first--the silent -and secret minister to all those little schemes of charity and -benevolence the young ladies had so much at heart--but also their -personal assistant and supporter. - -Often during the time they were thus thrown intimately together, did Mr. -Wynne, like others perhaps besides, think it could not be but that the -lovely Selina Seaham, the flower of Glan Pennant, as the good clergyman -was wont to call her, would charm away the sorrows of that noble heart; -and as for the impression Edward Temple might make on that young lady, -he thought it was a case decided. However it might have been on that -latter point, we have seen that our hero's heart escaped the predicted -spell--although in other ways he might esteem and admire the fair -lady--and how another charm had secretly enthralled him. - - * * * * * - -It had been in no slight degree startling to Eustace Trevor to discover -the relationship existing between the Seahams and his friend de Burgh; -and at first it had nearly determined him to leave the place, lest in -any way this fact should tend to his betrayal. But Mr. Wynne soon made -it his business to ascertain for his satisfaction that no such chance -existed. - -Glan Pennant was not visited by any of the young ladies' relations, and -never had been for many years. Even the wedding of the last married -sister had been unattended by any of them, and indeed it was very rare -that regular visitors of any sort came to the place. Sir Hugh Morgan -occasionally had a friend or two in a bachelor way, whose society was -not much in his line, or likely to consist of any of Eustace's former -acquaintance, being generally natives of his own country. - -So far Eustace Trevor's mind was set at rest, though still the fact of -the relationship haunted his fancy as a strange striking coincidence. -Little did he divine all that this coincidence was destined farther to -comprise. Little did he conceive when in his solitary rambles after his -settlement at Ll---- he sometimes chanced to meet that young and gentle -girl, who had so attracted his interest and attention that first Sunday -in the gallery of the church; sometimes tracking with fond alacrity the -footsteps of her brother to some lake or mountain stream--or seated in -some shady dell, or on some heathy hill, with her sweet smile and dreamy -eyes bent upon her book--or plunged in pensive reverie--little did he -divine what dream, or rather the mere shadow of a dream, his appearance -might chance to dissipate. - -It may appear unnatural, that during those few years of acquaintance -with one so worthy to win the love and admiration of a mind like Mary -Seaham's--under circumstances too, which, considering the nature of her -disposition, might have seemed peculiarly favourable to produce that -end--no corresponding sentiments had been awakened in her breast towards -Eustace Trevor. - -Indeed, we scarcely think it likely this could have proved the case, had -the feelings she inspired in his breast been earlier made apparent; but -it must be remembered that Mary was very young when Eustace Trevor first -came to Ll----, that he arrived too, arrayed in attributes exactly -suited to banish from a mind like hers any ideas connected with that of -love. - -The mighty sorrow of which Mr. Wynne had spoken, and which sat so -plainly written on his beautiful countenance--every superior excellence -of mind and character, more intimate acquaintance only served to -heighten--had conspired to render him, in the estimation of the young -girl's child-like, but high-toned mind, as one of that order of beings -towards whom reverence and admiration were the only feelings to which, -without presumption, one like her could ever dare to aspire. - -There was, besides, a distant melancholy reserve in his manner, she -imagined, more apparent in his bearing towards herself than to her -sisters, which still more effectually contributed to produce this -effect; while her sisters, on their part, although equally enthusiastic -in their admiration of their new friend, were much more inclined to look -upon him in the light of a common mortal like themselves--one indeed for -whom it would have been no such great stretch of presumption to -entertain feelings of a less exalted character; though the careless -youth of the one put all such considerations out of the question, and -the good sense of the other stifled any rising inclination of her heart -to bestow its affections--when it became too soon plainly evident how -little chance existed of winning a corresponding return--from him who, -two years after his arrival, calmly assisted in the ceremony which -united her to the young officer, who had proved himself less -invulnerable to the powers of attraction she possessed. Yet far was -Eustace Trevor from being naturally prone to coldness and insensibility -on a point like this; he was one - - "To gaze on woman's beauty as a star, - Whose purity and distance make it fair." - -And fair indeed did it seem to him, when on his night of darkness it -shone forth with so bright and clear a light as in the daughters of Glan -Pennant. But that light to him must be indeed far distant, for the -morbid sensibility with which he contemplated the dark features of his -past history, cast its blasting influence even over this purest and most -natural point of his heart's ambition; and mournfully he would silence -any allusions his friend would venture to make upon the subject. - -His was not a fate he could solicit any being, blessing and blessed like -those fair girls, to share; and sadly would he seek to quench the -feeling which, day by day, year by year--as the gentle excellence, the -sweet attractions of Mary Seaham were more and more developed--gathered -strength within his heart. - -This it was which made her deem his manner cold and distant, in -comparison with that he evinced towards her sisters. Little did she -imagine how the spirit of that noble-minded man bowed down before her -mild, unconscious might; how, if he turned away coldly from her soft -words and timid glance, it was because he feared their power might draw -forth a manifestation of that he had vowed to himself to conceal-- - - "I might not dim thy fortune bright, - With love so sad as mine." - -No--we see he kept his secret but too well--so well, that not only the -object herself, but even his anxious and much-interested friend Mr. -Wynne, never suspected a truth which would have given him such -unfeigned delight. - -A year before the period at which our story opens, and soon after -performing, to his no great satisfaction, the marriage ceremony for his -lovely young friend Selina Seaham, the worthy man had left Ll----; -yielding at length to the persuasions of his friends that he would, -according to the advice of the medical men, try the effect of a year or -two's sojourn on the continent in alleviating his troublesome and -obstinate, if not mortal, complaint. - -An efficient substitute had been found to fill his place. Eustace Trevor -also remained, as we have seen, continuing to render those services -which, year by year, had only been the more valuable and -distinguished--services never to be erased from the memories of that -little flock, with whom, during his ministry amongst them, he had -rendered himself equally honoured and beloved. But the following year, -as we have seen, brought events of no small importance to the fates and -fortunes of the principal personages of our history. - -The determination of the Majoribanks to leave Glan Pennant, the marriage -of Agnes Seaham, the peculiar nature of Mary's circumstances; and how, -consequent on those events, finally influenced by the last -consideration, Eustace Trevor in that momentous interview on the heathy -hill's side--casting his future hopes of happiness on one die--gave way -to the long-checked, long-concealed impulses of his heart, and poured -forth his tale of love upon her startled ear. Need we recapitulate the -sequel, "How pale the startled lady stood" on the borders of that green -and silent hill. - -It was too late to open before her eyes the treasure which had so long -been within her reach. He had failed to touch that chord, by which alone -the heart of woman can be moved--Mary's heart so pure, so good, was yet -a woman's. What, that for months and years devotedly he had lingered by -her side, loving her in secret with a love so fervent and so deep, she -had remained insensible to that hidden spell; whilst one glance from the -stranger's dark eyes--one low thrilling tone of his flattering voice had -sufficed to pluck away her heart. But so it was, and so it oft-times is; -and there is little need to tell again how Eustace Trevor, his last reed -broken, his last ray of light extinguished, turned away to seek his sad -and silent home-- - - "The shadow of a starless night," - -thrown upon that world, in which henceforth he must move so desolate and -alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - Thou too art gone--and so is my delight, - And therefore do I weep, and inly bleed, - With this last bruise upon a broken reed. - Thou too art ended--what is left me now? - For I have anguish yet to bear--and how? - - BYRON. - - -As may be supposed, the peaceful vale of Ll---- from this time forth -became an altered place to Eustace Trevor. "There are places in the -world we never wish to see again, however dear they be to us." Such to -his disappointed heart was Mary Seaham's deserted home, and every spot -in the vicinity haunted by associations connected with that loved being. -Yet he lingered, pursuing his former avocations, partly from principle, -partly from the painful pleasure thus afforded, partly from the anxious -desire to remain upon the spot, where alone he could hope to receive -tidings of his lost one. - -A strange restless foreboding had been excited in his mind from the -first moment that he had heard of Mary's intended destination; and it -was this, no doubt, which in a great measure urged him to take the -decisive step which had proved so unavailing. Not of course had he in -any way embodied the real nature of the misfortune his ominous fears -presented; that event would indeed have seemed a coincidence too fearful -to be conceived probable; but besides there being something most -repellant to his feelings in the idea of that gentle object of his -heart's unhappy affections wandering away into the sphere now so darkly -associated in his mind--some presentiment of danger and sorrow to -herself, quite unconnected with any selfish considerations, had darkly -mingled. All through that summer then, whose brightness to him was gone; -all that autumn too, till like his own fallen hopes, the yellow leaf lay -thick around, "and the days were dark and dreary," he stayed; -then--then--had reached his ears, at first by vague and dull report, -tidings which froze into the very ice of winter the life-blood in his -heart--Miss Mary Seaham was going to be married to a very rich and -handsome gentleman of those parts; and his name--yes, that was it--he -would have thanked Heaven on his knees, had it been any other name on -earth--that name. It came with terrible exactness, that name was "Eugene -Trevor." Then, indeed, a dreadful feeling of horror, of despair, -assailed him. His cup of bitterness was full; could malignant fate do -more to crush him? - -Mary Seaham, the wife of his brother! Of him who had dealt so -treacherously by him, who without cause, had proved himself his deadly -enemy. _His_ wife? nay his victim. Another angel victim, of -covetousness, tyranny, and vice. It must not, nay, it _should_ not be; -anything--everything must be done to avert the sacrifice. In a word, -every other consideration was at an end. He left Ll---- and went to -London; there he traced out that faithful servant to whom we have -alluded, and through him took steps to gain a too sure confirmation of -what he had heard, and besides that, many particulars concerning the -mode of life of his brother, during the interval of their separation, -which only served to invest with fresh horror, the idea of his union -with Mary. - -His course was taken. He wrote to his brother the momentous letter, -which turned the current of poor Mary's bliss. - - * * * * * - -"When you and I parted, Eugene, nearly five years ago, it was with the -sole determination on my part, never again to seek communication with a -man who had acted as none other, than _a brother_, could have acted, -without drawing upon himself the just retribution on my part, such -conduct so justly deserved, I mean the public exposure of its villainy -to society--to the world. But as it was--more in sorrow than in -anger--sorrow which in the estimation of those less scrupulous and -sensitive than myself, might have been deemed carried to a morbid and -irrational extent--in sorrow of heart, the bitterness of death could -hardly surpass, sorrow and amazement that such perfidy could exist in -one I had loved as my own mother's son; the impulse of my grieved and -wounded spirit prompted me to act in a manner exactly the reverse. My -determination had been to repair to some distant foreign land. But mere -accident, or I should say, hidden Providence, ordered it otherwise. I -spent the winter in a wild unfrequented part of North Wales; and on -leaving that, was taken ill at a small town, some miles distant. A few -weeks more and circumstances caused me to fix my wandering steps in a -secluded valley, where for the few succeeding years I assisted the -clergyman of the place in the duties of his profession, and in -conformity with the course of conduct I was pursuing, under the name of -Edward Temple. Does this give you any clue to the motive of the present -unwelcome communication? Have you ever heard that unfamiliar name pass -the lips of her, whom report tells me you are to make your wife--the -lips, I mean, of Mary Seaham? if so as it would have been but natural, -she may have further spoken, and told you of the love she had inspired -in that same Edward Temple's breast; and you smiled, no doubt, in pity -at the disappointed ambition of the country curate. Eugene, now indeed, -I own that you have honourably won that--to which, in comparison, all -that by wrong and treachery you ever sought to rob me is as dross -indeed, in my estimation--the love of as pure a heart, as angel-like a -spirit as ever breathed in the form of woman. But this, Eugene, must -suffice you; here your triumph must end; unless, indeed, you care to -prove your affection by a stronger test than I imagine it would be able -to stand; for at once I come to the point, and tell you Eugene, that I -cannot suffer this concerted marriage of yours to take place, without a -powerful effort on my part, to avert it--to save the pure and gentle -being whom I shall ever love, from the fate that marriage, I feel, must -ever entail upon her. - -"That it springs from no bitter feelings of disappointment or rivalry, -on my part; but is as disinterested in its nature, as if I had never -loved Mary Seaham but as a brother might have loved a sister, God truly -knows; but it would be throwing words away, I fear, to attempt to -convince one like you--in whose imagination the possibility of any such -purity and disinterestedness of motive cannot exist. Well, interpret it -as you may--only break off this engagement, which, from what I hear of -the sentiments of some of her friends, will not be so very difficult. -Break it off, and for what I care, the world may still think me mad; for -what I care, you may still retain the position you now hold--so much as -it appears, to your own satisfaction and contentment--in the eyes of -society. Refuse to do this, and I come forward, and ask the world--ask -her friends--ask Mary herself, whether a man who had acted as you have -done, is worthy to be her husband; and then, I am much mistaken, if when -that delusive veil, which now robes her idol, be thus withdrawn--she, -yes, Mary, does not shrink with horror, from what is there revealed. - -"Spare yourself, Eugene--spare her--spare her pure eyes, her innocent -spirit this exposure. You will say, the alternative is as cruel--that -her affection is too great to bear the destruction of her hopes, without -such pain and grief as none who really loved her, as _I_ profess to do, -would willingly inflict. - -"This may be--her love may be true, and deep. The tears she may shed at -its destruction be bitter--time may be required to heal the wound. But -were these tears to swell the ocean's tide, or the wound to prove -incurable, far better even this, than to live the life--to die the -miserable death of your father's wife--of her husband's mother! - -"And what in your career, Eugene, even setting aside that one crime, -with which I am personally concerned, is there, which can ensure her -any better destiny? - -"No; your mode of life during the last five years, I have taken measures -to ascertain. Can you deny that it has been one long course of sin, of -profligacy? - -"One dark deed, followed by atonement and remorse, might have been less -baneful to her happiness, than the systematic career of vice you now -habitually pursue. - -"What more can I add; but that I shall expect your written answer. I -feel assured you will, no less than myself, desire, if possible, to -avoid all personal communication. Direct to the General Post Office, -London, where, till I am assured that my object is properly secured, I -shall remain; and now, Eugene, farewell! God knows, that everything in -the terms and substance of this letter, which may appear dictated by a -harsh or threatening spirit, springs rather from the wretched -circumstances of the case, our most unnatural and unavoidable position, -one towards another--not from the temper of my mind towards you. Heaven -be my witness, that I would gladly give my heart's blood at this moment, -to discover that the past was but a horrid dream, and that now, as in -years gone by, I could without fear, that the very air would repeat the -words in mocking echo, sign myself, - - "Your affectionate brother, - - "EUSTACE TREVOR." - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - There is a tide in the affairs of men, - Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; - Omitted, all the voyage of their life - Is bound in shallows and in miseries. - On such a full sea are we now afloat; - And we must take the current when it serves, - Or lose our ventures. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -It is not necessary to describe with much detail the effect produced by -this letter, on the mind of Eustace Trevor, or the mode of conduct he -pursued in the emergency. - -We have already made the reader acquainted with the half measures he -pursued--the crooked paths he attempted, in order to extricate himself -from the threefold difficulty in which he found himself placed. His -answer in the first instance, to his brother's first startling address, -had been of that character which usually marks the tone of the -offender, when the injured one dares to rise up and interfere with his -ill-deserved security, and ill-earned joys; but though in language -fierce and vindictive, he might appear to set fear and threatening at -defiance, there was too much implied acquiescence, in the power these -threats exercised over his mind--in the testy assurance which -accompanied his reply (how far true we have seen) that his marriage was -not in any such immediate question as Eustace seemed to imagine--that -his father's state of health rendered it an affair of most uncertain -termination--till finally, a second letter from his brother, brought -him, at last, to declare in terms, the bitterness of which may be well -imagined, that he had put off his marriage _sine die_, in further proof -of which, he was to hold no further communication by person or letter -with Mary Seaham;--he then hoped that Eustace might be satisfied, and -that he would have left England. - -That he might prevail on Mary to consent to a private marriage, was now -probably the object of Eugene's mind. For to relinquish, without a -struggle, any acquisition on which he had set his heart, would have -been contrary to his nature; and then there was the probability of his -father's death, securing to him so large a provision, rendering him in a -pecuniary point of view, independent of any threats his brother might -please to put into execution; for as far as Mary was concerned, he -relied too much on the power he had gained over her devoted, gentle -affections, to fear that any accusation brought against him by his -brother, would influence her against him. Eustace might then claim his -own rights, and he would not dispute them. Nay, Mary once his own, he -reckoned too much on that brother's, (in his heart, acknowledged -generosity of spirit,) to fear that he would persevere in carrying out -his threatened, and in that case, unavailing exposure. It was in this -light, probably, that he viewed the case, when Eugene first came to -London. Eustace, too, we find, had not left town. Either he had been led -to doubt the truth of his brother's protestations, or was unable to -resist the temptation of lingering where Mary was, when he could again, -and for the last time, perhaps, hope to catch a passing glance of her -sweet face,--pale, sad, and changed, since he had last seen it--but -better thus to his mind, than bright and glowing with that dangerous -infatuation by which she was to be allured to certain misery. - -We will not deny that Eustace Trevor's feelings and course of conduct on -the occasion, may seem carried to a morbid, some may almost deem, an -unwarrantable excess. But then it must be remembered, that all his -lifetime through, - - "From mighty wrong to petty perfidy;" - -he had suffered enough to bring any man of his sensitively high-pitched -tone of mind to this extremity. - -There was one point especially, which had become the ruling power of his -mind--that phantom which by night or day--haunted his imagination. The -remembrance of his mother: her wrongs and misery. - - "A potent spell, a mighty talisman, - The imperishable memory of the dead, - Sustained by love, and grief, and indignation, - So vivid were the forms within his brain, - His very eyes, when shut, made pictures of them." - -Could he then image forth another? She who had filled up that yearning -vacuum in his bleeding heart, the death of his mother had occasioned; -imagine her, such was the horrid fancy which had taken possession of his -mind--picture Mary entering that same house--assuming that same -position--the victim of the same evil influences to which she had been -exposed. The thought would have been one almost to turn his brain, had -he deemed it not to be averted. As it was, the suffering that its very -idea had caused, was sufficient to produce that change in his -appearance, on which Arthur Seaham had commented, when to gain more -certain information concerning his sister, Eustace Trevor had visited -him at the Temple; a change, which no former griefs and trials, dark and -dreadful though they had been, had in so striking a manner been able to -inflict. For man is Godlike in his strength--his spirit may sustain him -under burdens it were otherwise difficult to bear--but touch only a -chord--break only a tie which binds him to a woman's delicate love, - - "And his strong spirit bendeth like a reed." - -On Eustace's return from the visit to the Temple, he had proof positive -of his brother not having kept his pledge, in one most important -respect; for he saw the lovers together, and the painful interview -between the brothers was the consequence--the issue of which we need not -recapitulate. - -Another day, and Eustace Trevor had turned his back upon the English -shore, to track the footsteps of his friend Mr. Wynne in his travels on -the continent, still retaining the assumed name of Temple; and Eugene in -as short a space of time, was again breathing freely his accustomed -atmosphere--a London world. - -We do not mean to say that his love for Mary Seaham was so soon -forgotten--that love which for the last few months had exercised a purer -and more softening influence upon his spirits, than any other feeling, -perhaps, had ever before effected. - -It was still like some soft, sweet, dream of night, which often haunts -and mingles in the thoughts and actions of the day; and his marriage -with the gentle Mary, the settled purpose and intention of his heart. - -But the smooth course of that love had received a check--met with a -disturbing force--his love had not quality or strength to overstep. - -This to a worldling is a dangerous test; for love to him is but "a thing -apart." There are so many other resources wherefrom to drain, when that -one silvery stream of life is checked or troubled. - -Why then not plunge into these broad abounding waters, which will bear -him on, no matter how turbid be their depth beneath the glittering -surface--no matter where, but on only--on too smooth, open, too -unrestrained a course. As to the stability of his feelings with regard -to Mary, Eugene felt little doubt his affections had been called forth -to an unprecedented degree. For the first time in his life, he felt what -it was to have his desires fixed on an object, in every way worthy of -esteem. - - "Pure, lovely, and of good report," - -and a new and wonderful fascination had been the effect produced upon -his mind. Whilst under its immediate influence, he had seemed to exist -in another sphere, to breathe another atmosphere, to have become a new -creature; and he had contemplated his marriage with a calm, tranquil -delight, as the completion of a still more certain renovation and -transformation of his existence. - -Its untoward interruption, therefore, had provoked and disappointed him -beyond measure--beyond even the fear and inconvenience of those serious -consequences into which the circumstances of the case had otherwise -threatened him. Irritated and embarrassed by the trouble and perplexity -in which the affair involved him, we will not say, however, but that in -the end this one year's certain postponement of his marriage, as decided -in his interview with Arthur Seaham, had not in a great degree relieved -his mind in the emergency. In one year, as he had said, much might -happen to change the aspect of affairs. At any rate breathing time was -afforded, in which he might, without danger to himself, indulge in the -consciousness of knowing that a tender heart was all his own. For the -sequel time would provide. - -In the meantime what had he to do, but to pursue his former career, and -hush the voice of conscience in the excitement of the crowd. - - "To follow all that peace disdains to seek, - Where revel calls, and laughter vainly loud, - False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek, - And leave the flagging spirits still more weak." - -That the mind of man need indeed be more than human to withstand such -counter-influences has been well tested. - - "Amidst such scenes, love's flower too soon is blighted." - - * * * * * - -What different courses marked the existence of Mary Seaham and Eugene -Trevor, during the lengthened interval which is to follow, may easily be -imagined--different as the streamlet's course through the quiet valley, -to the river's, rolling its darkened waters through the streets -tumultuous of defiling cities! - -Let us then, now that our less pleasing task is accomplished, restrain -our footsteps as much as possible to the streamlet's course; that is to -say, in the ensuing pages, let us follow more closely Mary Seaham's -career than that of her lover's. - - "Not through each devious path, each changeful year of existence, - But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course through the valley: - Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of its water - Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only; - Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms that conceal it, - Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous murmur, - Happy at length if he find the spot when it reaches an outlet." - - -END OF VOL. II. - - - LONDON: - Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. - - -[Transcriber's Note: Hyphen and spelling variations within each volume -and between volumes left as printed.] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Seaham, Volume 2 of 3, by -Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 2 OF 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 40406-8.txt or 40406-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/0/40406/ - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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