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@@ -1,39 +1,4 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Mary Seaham, Volume 3 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 3 of 3 - A Novel - -Author: Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -Release Date: August 4, 2012 [EBook #40407] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 3 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) - - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40407 *** MARY SEAHAM, A NOVEL. @@ -722,7 +687,7 @@ results. Nothing had been seen or heard of Eugene Trevor by any of the family for the first month or two. He had been in London only at intervals, and he -had not opened any communication with his _fiancee_, till she--on coming +had not opened any communication with his _fiancée_, till she--on coming to London at the urgent solicitation of her sister Lady Morgan, who was not well--had a few days after her arrival, been surprised by a note from Mrs. de Burgh, whom she was not aware was even in town, begging her @@ -959,7 +924,7 @@ might be proud to worship as a lover." "Yes," interposed Mrs. de Burgh, "I suppose he was a very superior, delightful person; but I own he always appeared to me, even as a boy, a -little _tete monte_, so that it did not surprise me so very much when I +little _tête monté_, so that it did not surprise me so very much when I heard of the calamity which had befallen him. He was just the sort of person upon whose mind any strong excitement, or sudden shock would have had the like effect." @@ -2294,7 +2259,7 @@ Trevor would have to appear to give his evidence. CHAPTER VIII. - Un Dieu descend toujours pour denouer le drame, + Un Dieu descend toujours pour dénouer le drame, Toujours la Providence y veille et nous proclame Cette justice occulte et ce divin ressort, Qui fait jouer le temps et gouverne le sort. @@ -2552,7 +2517,7 @@ produced certificates from the medical attendants as to the dying condition of the real offender. To what further transpired, few, beyond those especially concerned in -the _eclaircissement_, paid any very particular attention; the general +the _éclaircissement_, paid any very particular attention; the general interest being now attracted towards the ex-prisoner, who, whilst listening with signs of strong emotion to the declaration of her innocence, had suddenly fainted, and was carried out of the court; and @@ -4004,7 +3969,7 @@ bosom." * * * * * Arthur Seaham was obliged to go and prepare himself for the judge's -dinner, and Mary to exert herself during her _tete-a-tete_ evening with +dinner, and Mary to exert herself during her _tête-à -tête_ evening with Miss Elliott. The next day she was too ill to rise. Her maid was sent for, and with @@ -5579,7 +5544,7 @@ amusing himself with the book upon his knee--his favourite book of scripture prints and stories. He was an interesting and peculiar child, very unlike the girl, who had -all the _eveille_, excitable disposition of her mother--or the +all the _eveillé_, excitable disposition of her mother--or the high-spirited, most beautiful child, the youngest boy, of whom his parents were so proud and fond. @@ -6310,369 +6275,7 @@ and between volumes left as printed.] -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Seaham, Volume 3 of 3, by +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Seaham, Volume 3 of 3, by Elizabeth Caroline Grey -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 3 OF 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 40407.txt or 40407.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/0/40407/ - -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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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 3 of 3 - A Novel - -Author: Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -Release Date: August 4, 2012 [EBook #40407] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 3 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. III. - - 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. - - Thou hast not rebuked, nor reproached me, - But sadly and silently wept, - And each wound that to try thee I sent thee, - Thou took'st to thy heart to be kept. - - C. CAMPBELL. - - -Six months from the point at which we left our story, a party of -gentlemen, who on their way to the Highland Moors, had stopped in -Edinburgh for the night, strolled together in the public gardens of the -place. - -They found little company there besides children and nurse-maids at that -time, so that a young lady of quiet, but distinguished appearance, who -came towards them and turned down one of the shady walks, with a group -of little companions followed by their attendant, more particularly -attracted the attention of the strangers. - -"What a remarkably pretty, lady-like looking girl, that is; how well she -walks," said one. - -"So Trevor seems to think," said another, for their friend had lingered -behind, and now stood apparently half irresolute, looking in the -direction where the young lady had disappeared. - -"Come on, don't let us be in his way," and then laughing, they pursued -their walk. - -Trevor seemed not disinclined to profit by their consideration--he -hesitated no longer, but disappeared at once within the shaded path. - -Need we say, whose footsteps he followed--or whose the startled -countenance, which turned towards him, when having reached the spot -where the object of his pursuit had arrived, he in a low tone pronounced -the name of "Mary," or how in an opposite direction to that taken by -the nurse and children, they were soon walking on slowly, side by side, -together. - -"But Eugene, is not this wrong?" Mary said, after the first tearful joy -of this most unexpected meeting had a little subsided, and her heart -rather sunk, to find by her lover's hasty explanation, that no new turn -of events, touching favourably on their mutual happiness, had brought -him to her side. "Is not this wrong after the agreement we had made?" - -"What Mary!" with tender reproach, "are you so little glad to see me as -thus to speak? However, as you are so much more scrupulous than -affectionate, I am not afraid to tell you that I had not counted upon -this pleasure, though I did not think myself bound quite to avoid the -place which contained you; but when, by mere accident, I saw you a few -yards distant, I think not the most punctilious of your friends, would -expect it to be in the nature of man, to look after you and turn coolly -the other way." - -Mary smiled upon him, as if she needed no other excuse. - -"How well you look, Mary!" Eugene continued, gazing on the countenance -of his companion, lit up, as it was, by the glow of animated pleasure, -"happier, better, than when I saw you last--too well, I am almost -tempted to think, and too happy, considering the circumstances of our -case. I--you must allow, look far less so." - -Mary gazed with tender anxiety into her lover's face. Was she then -really to suppose that the change she remarked upon his handsome -countenance, since the happy Silverton days, was caused by his love for -her? - -The haggard cheek--the restless, unhealthful fire which burnt in those -dark eyes! A thrill of womanly pleasure was mixed with the tender pain -the idea inspired. - -"You certainly do not look as well as when at Silverton," she answered -with a gentle sigh, as the many associations those words conjured up, -rose before her; "but your expedition to the Moors will do you so much -good. If you have been in London all this time, I do not wonder at your -feeling ill. As for my looks," she added, "no doubt at this moment they -are bright and happy--you must not judge of them in general from their -appearance now, not that I mean to say I am not happier, and perhaps -therefore looking better than when you saw me last--for then--all was -doubt, and dread, and uncertainty, and I was very miserable--but now -since all that was removed, I have been happy--yes, truly happy in -comparison; though at times I fear I am inclined to be sad and -impatient-hearted. I was spoilt at first by too much unalloyed -happiness, and it is hard to resign oneself to the long and unbroken -separation, I had thought ours must be, but there is the happy prospect -at the end--and this year, long and weary as it may seem--must pass away -like any other." - -"This year--yes!" murmured Eugene abstractedly, gazing on the sweet -earnest countenance of the good and gentle speaker--"yes, this year," he -repeated with an impatient flash suddenly lighting up his eyes; "but -you should have been my wife now, Mary," and lowering his voice, "you -_would_ have been, if you had loved me, as I thought you did, and had -not cut so short what I proposed doing during that drive in London." - -Mary looked startled and surprised. - -"Eugene!" she said, "I know you do not mean what you say--you never, but -in the madness and misery of the moment, could have suggested such an -alternative." - -"Why not, dear Mary?" - -"Why?" with gentle reproach. "Why--for every reason, Eugene." - -"Every one is not so scrupulous as yourself, Mary. Olivia thought it a -great pity we did not avail ourselves of that expedient; she would have -assisted us in every way." - -"What, Eugene--you really went so far as to consult with a third person, -on such a subject." - -"Oh! Olivia and I, you know, are sworn allies; besides, I believe it was -she who suggested the idea. Ladies are always the first to originate -mischievous designs in our unlucky brains." - -Mary shook her head. - -"Olivia was very wrong," she said; "she must have known that _I_ should -never have consented to such an alternative." - -"She only knew, or thought at least, that you loved me; and therefore, -as with all her faults, she has a warm heart; she could not probably -conceive such coldness in your love, Mary." - -The tears rose to Mary's eyes. - -"Coldness!" she repeated. "Oh, Eugene! how can you apply such a term to -my affection?--coldness in rejecting an expedient which I should think -the most extreme, and peculiar circumstances alone could justify." - -"To what kind of circumstances do you allude, Mary?" Eugene inquired -anxiously, and with recovered tenderness of tone, and manner. - -"Nothing fortunately, dear Eugene, which can in any manner apply to our -case; we who have only need of a little patience for our path to be -clear and plain before us. This year over, and if all goes right, you -will not, I think, accuse me any more of having acted coldly in this -respect." - -"No, Mary, as you say--_if_ all goes right, it will be as well; but -supposing that at the end of this year--for, remember that time was -specified quite at random, and because I had no heart to name a longer -period--supposing that the existing obstacle was unremoved, and that -another, and another, and another year were to pass before it were -possible we could be openly united--" - -"Oh, Eugene!" interposed poor Mary, turning very pale; "and is this -really likely to be the case?" - -"I did not say it was likely--but it is possible--and suppose it so to -be?" - -He paused for her reply, and still she answered faintly: - -"Oh, then, Eugene, the trial would be great, yet we must still trust in -God, and abide patiently his good time and pleasure." - -"Mary," interrupted Eugene, almost passionately, "your patience indeed -exceeds all bounds," and he turned petulantly away. - -Poor Mary was cut to the heart by this first manifestation of anything, -but the most tender approval on Trevor's part; she exclaimed: - -"Oh, Eugene! what would you have me to do?" and the tempter was -determined not to throw away the advantage he had thus far gained. - -His present object, as may be supposed, was not to have any immediate -recourse to the expedient he was advancing, but rather to smooth the -way, in case of further exigency. For again with Mary--once more looking -on her sweet face--listening to her gentle voice, and feeling the magic -charm her guileless excellency never failed to exercise over him, he was -as much in love as ever, and determined, whatever might happen, never to -be foiled in his endeavours to possess a treasure, whose price he felt, -would indeed be "far above rubies." - -Nay, he even began to think that he had perhaps been too easily turned -from his original design, and was almost ready to accuse himself of -weakness and cowardice; therefore to Mary's question, he replied still -somewhat coldly. - -"I would have you show that you really loved me, by consenting to a step -which might, under certain circumstances, be the only means of securing -our final happiness. _My_ happiness--that is to say--and your's," he -added softly. "I had hoped, dearest Mary, you would also have considered -it." - -"My happiness, indeed, Eugene; but still deceit of any kind to me is so -very repugnant, even in idea, that I scarcely know how I should ever be -able to _enact_ it--deceit too of such a grave and responsible -character--enacted against those dearest to me. What a return for their -affectionate and anxious regard for my welfare!" - -"Yes," answered Eugene, somewhat hurriedly, "that tormenting point about -money matters, and a few more directly touching myself. But I am unwise, -perhaps, in so committing myself," he added again coldly. "Your love of -_truth_, which do not fancy I cannot thoroughly appreciate, may also -force you to communicate all that has now passed between us to your -friends and relations." - -"Eugene, you are unkind," poor Mary murmured, in accents of wounded -affection. - -He took her hand, pressing it to his lips in a manner which expressed -the tenderest, humblest sorrow--and the ready tearful smile told him he -was too easily forgiven. - -"What sort of a man is this brother-in-law of yours, Mary?" Eugene then -asked. - -"A very kind good man," Mary answered. "I am sure, _I_ ought to say so." - -"And your sister?" - -"She is my sister, and therefore when I tell you that she is in my eyes -perfection, you will indeed think me partial." - -"And you are then altogether perfectly happy," with renewed pique. - -This time she only answered him with a glance, her heart too full for -words. - -"Forgive me, dearest, if I am jealous," Eugene exclaimed, again -appeased, "of every one, even your own sister; but I shall be thankful -indeed to have no further excuse for the indulgence of that feeling. Oh! -Mary, I have often cruel misgivings respecting you." - -"Respecting _me_, Eugene?" - -"Yes, lest by any means you should during our separation be induced to -love, nay, even the idea that you should be _loved_ by any one save -myself, is almost to me as repugnant." - -"What can you mean, Eugene?" turning her eyes upon him, with doubting -surprise; "_I_ love any one, you cannot be in earnest--as to any one -loving me." - -"Well, do you think that so very much out of the question--Mr. Temple -for instance?" - -These last words were spoken in a faltering, agitated voice, the -speaker's countenance undergoing a strange, a most unpleasing change, -whilst an ashy paleness spread over it, his eyes, in which glared a -sinister expression, fixed upon the clear open countenance of Mary, who -that moment was pensively looking down, or indeed she might well have -been startled at the new light which shone from her lover's face. - -"Mr. Temple!" she repeated slowly, and sadly "ah, yes!" with a -thoughtful sigh, "but surely, Eugene, I satisfied you fully on that -point, when I told you I refused him." - -"Yes, I know," but in a quick suspicious tone, "why did you sigh when -you repeated that man's name?" - -"Did I sigh?" - -"To be sure, you did; Mary, pray do not let me imagine that you -repent--that for a moment you have ever regretted you refused that--man, -the idea would distract me." - -"Eugene, Eugene! you are very strange to-day," replied the astonished -girl, "how is it possible that I could have regretted it, when so soon -after I met you--and now--" - -Her soft glance finished the sentence, and seemed to express that now -such an idea would indeed be madness. Eugene pressed her arm grateful -for this soothing assurance, but still seemed not perfectly satisfied. - -"And supposing even that you had _not_ met with me so soon after," he -persisted, "you never _would_ have regretted this act of yours? Mary, -you do not answer. Is it possible," turning almost fiercely towards her, -"that on second thoughts, on mature consideration, you ever could have -consented to marry that man?" - -Mary's spirit, like that of many persons of her gentle disposition, -could be roused by any such unjust or unreasonable display of temper, -and she answered calmly: - -"Most people would have wondered how it were possible, I refrained from -loving that excellent, that delightful man, who for four long years I -had daily seen in the exercise of every good and beneficial work, and of -whose amiable and exalted character, I had such full opportunity of -judging. It must indeed have been one of the inscrutable ways of -Providence, which preserved my heart all whole and entire for you, -Eugene." - -But the affectionate glance she lifted up towards her lover, was met by -one so dark and sinister in its expression, that she started and shrank, -as at the same moment, with an impetuous, almost violent movement, her -arm was released by her companion. - -"This is too much," he muttered angrily, "if I am to stay here only to -have rang in my ear the praises of this Temple, as he calls himself, I -think it is time that I should be off." - -Poor Mary, after one moment's astounded silence, placed her gentle hand -tremulously on his arm. - -"Eugene!" she faltered, "do not I entreat you look or speak like that, -you distress, you terrify me, and really this anger on your part is so -unaccountable, so uncalled for, I cannot understand it." - -"Not understand it, Mary? Not understand why I should hate to hear you -eulogize and wonder at your not having been inclined to marry that -detested man? Why I shall next be hearing you wondering what ever made -you love me." - -Incautious suggestion--why indeed had she loved him? What if Mary, in -after hours, when thinking over this scene, should recall that question -for cooler discussion, and diving into the recesses of her reasonable -soul for its solution, bring forth no more definite response than the -reiteration of the question. Why indeed? - -Why are we ever inclined to choose the evil and reject the good? Why do -we ever love darkness better than light? Why are our eyes blinded, our -imagination diseased, our taste perverted, and our heart deceived? - -But not now did Mary meditate upon this mystery, she only meekly and -tearfully exclaimed against any such imputation. - -"Why I love you, Eugene? alas! I begin almost to think you never loved -me, or you would not surely distress me by such words and expressions. -Mr. Temple--" - -"Mary, do not speak that hated name again." - -"I will not; too gladly will I avoid a subject which makes you so unlike -yourself, but remember, Eugene, it was you who first began it, for it is -one I should never have resumed. Mr. Temple," she repeated more firmly, -"however I may honour his memory, is as one henceforth dead to me; he -has for some time left the country, and it is not probable that I shall -ever see him again in this world." - -"So be it!" again murmured Eugene through his closed teeth, but added, -perceiving probably as his heated spirit cooled, that his violence on -this subject was making too much impression on his companion. - -"I have indeed perhaps been exciting myself to an unreasonable extent, -but I do not know how it is, there was always something from the first, -that from what you told me of this Mr. Temple gave me a disagreeable -impression, something about him which seemed mysterious, underhand and -suspicious." - -Mary's voice was about to be raised in indignant refutation of a charge -so unfounded, but cautious prudence checked the ebullition which might -only have led to fresh irritation on Eugene's part, but, as bright as -noontide, open as the day, there flashed before her memory those clear -dark eyes, the glance, the countenance of that aspersed one, it must -have been a dangerous crisis, for him who had spoken the injurious idea, -with such sidelong glance and downcast averted countenance. - -Mary's forbearance seemed nevertheless to have restored her companion's -equanimity. He was in a moment all affectionate contrition, and Mary all -forgiving kindness--still more gratifying Eugene's _exigence_ by -comparing the unbroken monotony of her present existence with his own -exciting career; and telling him how much more there was, therefore, on -her side to call forth misgivings on his account, yet how her perfect -trust, her entire faith sustained her. - -"I am as happy indeed," she continued calmly, "as I can be under present -circumstances. I might have preferred perhaps being with my dear -brother, but my friends thought that would not quite do at present." - -Eugene's brow darkened. He had no great fancy just now for that "dear -brother." - -"Yes--yes," he said somewhat hastily, "I quite agree with them, you are -certainly better where you are, just now; he is too young, and your -sister no doubt is, as you say, a delightful person." - -"She is indeed," Mary answered with alacrity, "I wish you could know her -Eugene. Is it not possible?" Then remembering the circumstances of their -meeting she hesitated, and paused dejectedly. - -"It seems so strange and unnatural to me," she added, "that none of -those I love so well should have ever seen or known you--none but -Arthur," she added in a low tone. - -There was nothing very agreeable associated in Eugene Trevor's mind at -this moment, with the later circumstances of that acquaintance, though -he hastened to express slightly his own corresponding regret; however -the truth was, as may be imagined, that he felt little inclination at -this juncture for an encounter with any of his betrothed's belongings, -more especially the dry Scotch lawyer--imagination pictured to him. - -If, indeed, it had not been for the nurse and children, he would -probably have suggested that Mary should keep silence on the subject of -their interview; but as it was, he could only resign the affair into her -hands, and rely upon her representation of the circumstance. - -He must now think of beating a retreat; but first of all he asked her -how long she was to remain in her present abode. - -She scarcely knew--probably all the winter. - -"And am I never to hear from you, or of you, all this time?" he -demanded. - -She shook her head sadly. - -"I do not know Eugene how--your agreement was you remember, that we -should not meet, or even write, to one another." - -"Do you and Olivia correspond?" Eugene then asked. - -"Seldom: Olivia lately has been a very bad correspondent." - -"No wonder; she has had other things to think of lately. She has been -going on at a fine rate this season in London, nearly driven Louis mad. -At last he took the children down to Silverton, and left her behind." - -"Poor dear Louis!" murmured Mary, with sorrowful concern. - -"Yes, Mary, you and I would have been very different." - -At those words, into which were thrown a most thrilling amount of -tenderness, both of look and accent, Eugene paused. - -They had hitherto been pacing slowly up and down a certain part of the -retired grounds, but now pressing his companion's arm close to his -heart, he said in an agitated voice. - -"And now, Mary, how shall I ever make up my mind to leave you; and how -shall I exist without you?" - -Mary had just lifted up her pale face with a look of piteous sorrow, at -words which she felt at once were preliminaries to the bitter parting, -when their attention was attracted by the voices of her sister's -children, announcing them to have advanced in closer proximity than the -discreet tact of their attendant had previously permitted. But on -glancing in that direction, Eugene was not a little disconcerted to -behold slowly advancing amongst the young group, a lady whom it needed -not Mary's murmured explanation to denote to him at once as her sister. - -There was nothing to do but for them to advance and meet one another. -Mary's former pallor had been speedily chased by a deep blush, and with -nervous embarrassment she murmured an introduction. - -Eugene's manner too was consciously confused. - -Mrs. Gillespie, whatever might have been the surprise and interest she -felt on finding her sister so accompanied, was all calm and quiet -civility, such as that with which she might have received any strange -acquaintance of Mary's. - -And Eugene--ominous as this cool reception might appear of the feeling -generally entertained by the family of Mary towards him--could not but -hail it as a relief to the embarrassment of his present situation, and -consider the course of conduct she thus pursued, that of a lady-like and -sensible person such, as he could at once perceive in their short -interview, his sister-in-law elect to be. - -So they walked down the shady walk together: Mary anxious and silent, -Mrs. Gillespie and Eugene exchanging common place observations -respecting Edinburgh, and his intended expedition to the Moors. - -Then the lady paused, as if intending to show that she purposed -proceeding in a different direction to that of her new companion. And, -understanding the hint, Eugene Trevor turned, and taking Mary's hand -pressed it as fondly, and gazed into her pale face as significantly as -he dared, murmured a few incoherent syllables of parting, then bowed to -the sister, and departed. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - Tell us, maiden, hast thou found him - Thus delicious, thus divine? - Doth such witchery breathe around him? - Is his spirit so benign? - Doth he shed o'er heart and brain - More of pleasure or of pain? - - MOULTRIE. - - -Mary suffered Mrs. Gillespie to draw her arm affectionately within her -own, and the sisters then walked on a little way, in silence, which -Alice was the first to break. - -"And that then was Eugene Trevor, Mary?" she said half interrogatively, -half in soliloquy. - -"Yes, that was Eugene," was the answer, accompanied by a deep-drawn -sigh. - -But there had been something in Mrs. Gillespie's tone which caused her -at the same moment to turn her eyes anxiously upon her face, as if to -discover what impression the "Eugene Trevor," thus significantly -emphasized, had made upon the speaker. - -"Is he like what you expected?" she then timidly inquired. - -"Yes--no--that is to say, not exactly," was the sister's rather -hesitating reply. - -"He is looking ill now," Mary continued; "and you did not see him to -advantage. It was of course rather an embarrassing meeting for him, -under existing circumstances, he not knowing exactly how you might be -inclined to approve of our interview, just at present; but I should -think from it having been so perfectly accidental, no one could blame -him, or object to its having occurred." - -"Not in the least, dear Mary, I am sure--if it was a meeting calculated -to raise and strengthen your spirits. And it _has_ made you happier, I -hope," looking rather doubtfully into Mary's pale and anxious -countenance, on which too the traces of tears were plainly visible. - -"Oh, yes, Alice!" Mary faintly replied. "Seeing Eugene was, indeed, a -pleasure most welcome and unexpected; but then you know the parting -again for so long a time--and--and--" turning her head away with a sigh, -"altogether it might be called rather a painful pleasure." - -"But then, Mary, six months will so soon pass away." - -"Yes, certainly," hesitated Mary; but there was no very cheerful -security in her tone. - -Mrs. Gillespie did not press her sister further on the subject just -then, for she plainly perceived that altogether it was one in which -truly as much of pain as pleasure was commingled. Of course she informed -her husband of the occurrence; and Mary too spoke of it as openly as was -possible, though the reserve she was forced in a great measure to -maintain respecting the substance of the interview, the more confirmed -her relations in their suspicions, as to its having been one of no very -satisfactory nature. - -"And what, as far as you were able to judge, in so short a time, did -you think of your intended brother-in-law, my dear Alice?" the husband -inquired of his wife the evening after the meeting; "for I know you -consider yourself a first rate physiognomist." - -"What do I think of him Robert?"--with a sigh--"poor Mary." - -"Why, poor Mary, do you not like his appearance?" - -"I should not much _like_ to trust my happiness, or that of any one I -loved, to his keeping." - -"Indeed! he is very good-looking at any rate." - -"Yes, handsome certainly--eyes, such as you perhaps have seldom, if ever -seen, and which, if they would only look you full in the face, are -certainly calculated to do a great deal of execution. But he did not -look so into mine; and there was something about his countenance -altogether which I cannot explain--something which, though I can fancy -it well calculated to make an impression--of some sort or another, over -one's mind--I confess on mine--to have been one, which is far from -_canny_. His looks too bespeak him, I am afraid, to be suffering rather -from the jading effects of London dissipation, than the gentler pains -and anxieties attendant on his situation, as a lover separated from the -object of his affection." - -Mr. Gillespie looked concerned at this report, feeling a great interest -in his amiable young sister-in-law. And though he generally expressed -mistrust, with respect to his wife's too hasty reliance on her first -impressions, still he was often in the end forced to acknowledge their -frequent accuracy. - -Yet at the same time, as the countenance of the lover did not in any way -alter the case with regard to Mary's position or circumstances, there -was nothing to be said or done by her friends whilst awaiting the issue -of affairs, but to observe with regret that though with the same meek -"patience, abnegation of self, and devotion to others," their sister -pursued the even tenor of her way, the cheerful serenity which before -had continued to shine forth in her countenance, and characterize her -bearing, had departed. Her mind had been evidently unsettled by the -_rencontre_ with Eugene Trevor--her heart's calm rest disturbed. - -How was it indeed with Mary? Had the hints conveyed by Eugene during -their interview depressed her hopes, and re-awakened her misgivings as -to the happy issue of the year's probation? Or more bitter still--had -anything in that same interview occurred to give that first -disenchanting touch, which by degrees detracts from the perfect charm -which has hitherto robed our idol, and we see the image of goodness and -beauty, whose idol shape we worshipped, melting from our sight, and -though still it binds the fatal spell, and still it draws us on, the -spirit of our love is changed--a shadow has fallen upon it. We feel it -to be "of the earth earthy." - -Had Mary received any startling impression, her feelings any -_boulversement_, by beholding Eugene Trevor for the first time so unlike -the Eugene she had hitherto loved--under the irritating disturbing -influences of opposition and reverse. - -But from whatever cause they might proceed, certainly "the gloom and the -shadow" spread broader and deeper on her brow; and when on his return -from the Moors, Eugene Trevor, probably for the chance of another -interview, revisited the Scotch metropolis, he learnt, by particular -inquiry of a maid-servant he found standing by the door of Mr. -Gillespie's closed house, that the family had left Edinburgh, and gone -to the sea-side. - -"Were they all well?" he inquired. - -"All well, only the young lady, Mrs. Gillespie's sister, a little pale, -and pining for country air. So the young Maister Arthur had come, and -persuaded them to put up their gear, and take the bairns and all to the -sea; but the maister was expected home the morrow, if the gentleman -liked to step up and see him." - -We may imagine that Trevor had no inclination to tarry for this purpose, -and that same day left Scotland _en route_ for Montrevor. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - He glowed with a spirit pure and high, - They called the feeling madness, - And he wept for woe with a melting eye, - 'Twas weak and moody sadness. - - PERCIVAL. - - -It was Epsom week. London was all astir with the influx of company -returning from the races. - -A pale girl sat alone in one of the apartments of an hotel in Brook -Street, listening long and anxiously to the coming sounds of the -carriage-wheels, as they whirled along in that direction. - -At length a carriage stopped before the door, and in a few moments a -lady entered the room, whose showy costume and flushed excited -countenance, (forming so strong a contrast to the appearance of the -other, whom she warmly greeted,) plainly evinced her to have but just -returned from that gay resort, the Stand at Epsom. - -"You are come then, dear Mary. I hope you have not been very long -waiting." - -"No, not so very long," and the eyes of the speaker wandered anxiously -towards the door, as if she seemed to expect the appearance of a second -person. - -Mrs. de Burgh understood that glance too well--she shook her head -compassionately. - -"Alas!--no, dear Mary; you must not expect to see him just now; he has -been unfortunately prevented--that was the reason which made me so late; -but I will tell you all about it presently, only let me have a glass of -wine first, for I am nearly exhausted." - -And during the interval of suspense, whilst Mrs. de Burgh refreshed -herself after the fatiguing pleasures of the day, let us remind our -readers, that the momentous year had some little time ago drawn to a -close. Its expiration had not, however, brought with it, any immediate -results. - -Nothing had been seen or heard of Eugene Trevor by any of the family for -the first month or two. He had been in London only at intervals, and he -had not opened any communication with his _fiancée_, till she--on coming -to London at the urgent solicitation of her sister Lady Morgan, who was -not well--had a few days after her arrival, been surprised by a note -from Mrs. de Burgh, whom she was not aware was even in town, begging her -to come to her--naming a particular day--at the hotel where she was -staying--as Eugene Trevor wished particularly to see her. She added that -he would be obliged by her not mentioning the object of this visit to -her relations, lest by any chance they might interfere with the -interview, and it was very necessary that it should occur, before any -more general communication took place. - -"Still mystery and concealment!" was poor Mary's disappointed soliloquy. -"Why not come here openly and see and speak to me? But I will go this -once, as Eugene wishes it, and I cannot refuse perhaps without -occasioning trouble and confusion." - -And so she went; for still alas! the attractive chain too powerfully -bound her, and her heart could not but spring forward with yearning hope -to this meeting once again, with her intended. It may be imagined, -therefore, how her heart had sunk within her, at Mrs. de Burgh's -disappointing communication. - -"Prevented coming," after having had her hopes and expectations strained -to such a pitch--and she awaited with painful solicitude the promised -explanation. - -She had not seen her cousin since her last unhappy time in London, and -though, even then, to a certain degree, a kind of estrangement had risen -up between them; and all that she had since heard by report of the gay -wife's conduct and proceedings, had not greatly raised the beautiful -Olivia in her esteem, yet Mary could not but retain a grateful -remembrance of the warm-hearted kindness she had received whilst under -her roof--and a still more pleasing and vivid impression of the too -tenderly cherished associations, with which she was so intimately -connected. - -But at this moment, the dearest friend on earth would have only been -appreciated by Mary, as the being on whose lips she hung for information -on the subject, and which she alone at this moment had the power to -communicate; and "why had not Eugene come?" was all that spoke in her -anxious countenance, or in the faltering tone in which she attempted, -with some show of cousinly interest, to make a few inquiries after Louis -and the children. - -Mrs. de Burgh came at last to her relief--if relief it could be -called--for the first thing she heard was, that Eugene instead of coming -to see her, intended setting off for Montrevor that very evening. - -"And why?" Mary with quivering lips interrupted. - -"Having lost a large sum of money on the Derby, he was obliged to have -immediate recourse to his father for the necessary cash to cover this -unfortunate transaction. He has therefore commissioned me to break to -you this intelligence. I cannot tell you, my dear Mary, the state of -mind poor Eugene was in when we parted--not only on account of the -immediate disappointment this occasioned him; but because this enormous -loss must again retard the possibility of his marriage taking place at -present. My dear Mary, you are doomed to the trial of hope deferred--the -strength and constancy of your attachment has indeed been sorely taxed." - -Mary did not immediately reply. She sat very pale, her eyes fixed upon -the ground, something more than common disappointment expressed in her -thoughtful countenance. - -At length she looked up, and said in a grave and anxious tone: - -"Does Eugene always lose like this at races?" - -"Oh no, dear! fortunately," laughed Mrs. de Burgh, "not often; he is -very lucky in general," but checking herself, as she saw Mary's shocked -countenance, "I mean," and she hesitated, "that after all he has not so -very decided a taste for this sort of thing," and Mrs. de Burgh laughed -again, saying: "but, my dear girl, do not look so very serious upon the -subject, what is there so very shocking in it after all." - -Mary thought it was a subject, to her at least, of most serious -importance and concern. A new and uncomfortable misgiving began to arise -in her mind. - -Was it in any way relating to this propensity in Eugene Trevor, against -which Louis de Burgh originally warned her--and did it in reality--more -than the reason which Eugene had brought forth to her brother, tend to -interfere in any way with her happiness? So strongly did this idea -suddenly possess her, that she could not refrain from asking Mrs. de -Burgh whether she thought this was the case. Her cousin's evasive answer -did not tend much to the removal of her suspicions. - -Eugene certainly did play--did bet a little on the turf. She thought -Mary had always been aware of that--men must have some pursuit, some -excitement. If it were not one thing it was another--equally--perhaps -one might call it--"not quite right;" however, all the best men in -London were on the turf. Eugene was only like the rest, but with married -men, it was quite different. - -"Indeed, Mary," the fair lady continued, "Eugene always assures me, he -means to give up everything of the sort when he marries, and I am quite -sure he will do so. I only wish you were married, dear." - -Mary only sighed. - -"You are not getting weary of your engagement, Mary?" Mrs. de Burgh -inquired. - -"Weary!--oh, no, Olivia. I was sighing for Eugene's sake." - -"You may well do so, for he is, I assure you, very unhappy at all this -delay." - -Mary shook her head, and her lip curled a little disdainfully. The -gesture seemed to say, "Whose fault is it now?" - -Mrs. de Burgh seemed to understand it as such, for she said-- - -"It is all that miserly old father's fault. He could set everything -right at once, if he chose." - -"But," said Mary, in a low tone, "I see no end of all this." - -"No," hesitated Mrs. de Burgh, "not I suppose till the brother turns up; -unless, indeed--" she murmured. - -"What?" inquired Mary, anxiously. - -"You had better come and stay with me at Silverton," was Mrs. de Burgh's -indirect reply. - -Mary smiled dejectedly. - -"That would never do," she replied, "they would not consent to my doing -so, under present circumstances." - -"They--who are they? I am sure, Mary, I should not allow any brother or -sister to interfere with my proceedings. You are of age, and quite at -liberty, I should imagine, to act as you please on any subject." - -Mary shook her head. She did not feel quite so independent-spirited as -all that--and besides, she did not herself see that such a step would be -quite expedient at present. - -She did not, however, say this aloud, and Mrs. de Burgh attributed her -silence to yielding consent. - -"Eugene wishes it very much I can assure you." - -Mary looked up as if the tempter himself had murmured the insinuating -observation in her ear, for there was something significant in the way -Mrs. de Burgh had spoken, which she could not but understand, and still -more in the words which followed. - -"If you were only married to Eugene, Mary, you might rely on his giving -up all objectionable and hurtful things." - -"But as that cannot be," sighed Mary, despondingly. - -"It could," hesitated Mrs. de Burgh; "it is only your friends' -opposition which would stand in the way, until Eugene is able to settle -something satisfactory as to his future prospects. Were I you, Mary, if -it were only for Eugene's sake, I should not be so scrupulous about -securing each other's happiness and his welfare, as he tells me you -are." - -But Mary turned away almost indignantly. If the proposal had even -revolted her spirit when coming from Eugene's own lips, much more so, -did it grate upon her feelings, when thus insinuated by those of -another. - -But whatever might here have ensued, was interrupted by the entrance of -Mr. de Burgh. It seemed that he had only arrived in London that day, -unexpectedly to Mrs. de Burgh, who otherwise would not have planned the -meeting of Mary and Eugene. - -He came evidently in one of his London humours, as his wife called it; -and though he greeted Mary kindly, she fancied there was a certain -alteration in his manner towards her, which she instinctively felt to -originate in his disapprovement of the present circumstances of her -engagement; she remembered that he never was friendly to the affair, -though the direct subject was now avoided by each of the party. - -He sat and made captious and cutting allusions to the races, and every -one concerned therein, which, whether really intended at Eugene, Mary -interpreted as such--and they touched the poor girl to the quick. - -Probably she was not far wrong in her supposition as to the pointedness -of his remarks, for suddenly glancing on his listener's downcast anxious -countenance he exclaimed, addressing his wife: - -"Bye the bye, Olivia, I mean to be off abroad in a day or two." - -"Good Heavens, Louis! what new fancy is this?" - -"Why, I have heard something to-day which has really put me quite into a -fever." - -"Well, what is it? Some nonsense, I dare say." - -"_I_ at least do not think it so. Dawson, who I saw to-day, declares -that Trevor, Eustace Trevor I mean, was seen by some one not long ago in -Switzerland. Yes," he continued, encouraged by Mary's glance of intense -and startled interest, "he was seen with another person--the _keeper_ I -suppose they talk about--somewhere on the Alps." - -"The Alps!--poor fellow! gone there to cool his brain, I suppose," said -Mrs. de Burgh, whose countenance nevertheless had bespoke her not a -little moved by this communication. - -"Cool his brain!--nonsense! cool enough by this time, depend upon it." - -"But does Eugene know of this?" faltered Mary. - -"I suppose so," replied Mr. de Burgh, coldly. - -"Impossible, Louis!" Mary exclaimed with eagerness. - -"Well, perhaps so. I don't know at all," Mr. de Burgh continued. "I -shouldn't be so much surprised if he did; there are a great many things -which surprise me more than that, Mary; for instance you yourself--yes, -you, Mary," as she lifted up her eyes to her cousin's handsome face, -with quiet surprise, "that you should see things in a light so different -to what I should have expected from you." - -"Ridiculous!" interposed Mrs. de Burgh--"that is to say that you should -have expected her to have seen everything with your own jaundiced, -prejudiced perception; but about Eustace Trevor." - -"Yes, about Eustace Trevor; he is a subject certainly worth a little of -your interest and inquiry. Mary, you should have known _him_," exclaimed -Mr. de Burgh, with rising enthusiasm. - -"You were very much attached to him then?" demanded Mary, with deep -interest. - -"Attached to him!--yes, indeed I was; that _was_ a man whom one might -well glory in calling friend; or," he murmured to himself, "a woman -might be proud to worship as a lover." - -"Yes," interposed Mrs. de Burgh, "I suppose he was a very superior, -delightful person; but I own he always appeared to me, even as a boy, a -little _tête monté_, so that it did not surprise me so very much when I -heard of the calamity which had befallen him. He was just the sort of -person upon whose mind any strong excitement, or sudden shock would have -had the like effect." - -"Olivia, you are talking nonsense," Mr. de Burgh petulantly exclaimed. - -"It was his mother's death, I think, I heard which brought on this -dreadful crisis?" Mary inquired. - -"Exactly so," answered Mrs. de Burgh. - -"How _do_ you know?" exclaimed her husband. "What does any one know -about the matter?" - -"We can only judge from what one has heard from the best authority," -again persisted his wife. - -"Best authority! well, I can only say that far from being of your -opinion, I should have said that Eustace Trevor had been as far from -madness as earth from heaven." - -"Really, Louis!" exclaimed Mrs. de Burgh, perceiving Mary's look of -anxious interest and surprise, "one would fancy from the way you talk -that you suspected him never really to have been mad." - - "'And this the world called frenzy; but the wise - Have a far deeper madness, and the glance - Of melancholy is a fearful gift. - What is it but the telescope of truth, - Which brings life near in utter nakedness, - Making the cold reality more cold,'" - -quoted Mr. de Burgh for all reply. - -"What _is_ all this to do with the point in question?" said Mrs. de -Burgh impatiently. "Really, Louis, Mary will think _you_ also decidedly -have gone mad." - -"Mary likes poetry," he answered quietly; "she will not think it is -madness what I have uttered." - -"But, Louis, what do you really mean about Eugene's brother?--tell me -something about him. I have heard so very little," demanded Mary, -earnestly. - -"Why do you not make Eugene tell you himself? I can only say: - - 'He was a man, take him for all in all, - I shall not look upon his like again!'" - -"He was very handsome--very clever," said Mrs. de Burgh, taking up the -theme more prosaically, "and very amiable I believe, though rather -impetuous and hot-tempered; always at daggers drawn with his father, -because he spent the old man's money a little faster than he liked, it -is said." - -"Good heavens, Olivia!" burst forth Mr. de Burgh, passionately, "how can -you sit there, and distort the truth in that shameful manner? you know -as well as I do the true version of this part of the story. Mary," -turning to his cousin with flashing eyes, "Eustace Trevor had a mother; -an excellent charming creature, whose existence, through the combined -influence of her husband and a most baneful, pernicious wretch of a -woman, that Marryott, of whom no doubt you have heard, was rendered one -long tissue of wretchedness and wrong, the extent of which I believe is -hardly known. Eustace, who adored his mother, keenly felt and manfully -espoused her cause; therefore, you may see at once this was the reason -of his father's hatred of him, and the old man's treatment of this son, -was one shameful system of injustice and tyranny--enough, I confess, to -drive any man into a state of mental irritation, possessed of Eustace's -sensitive temperament." - -Mary's wandering, startled gaze turned inquiringly on Mrs. de Burgh, as -if to ask whether this new and melancholy representation of the case -could be really true. Mrs. de Burgh looked a little disconcerted, but -replied carelessly: - -"Yes, poor Aunt Trevor! she had certainly a sad time of it; but then it -was partly her own fault. She was a weak-spirited creature. What other -woman would have endured what she did in that tame and passive manner?" - -"Yes, these poor weak-spirited creatures have often, however, strength -to bear a great deal for the sake of others," replied Mr. de Burgh, -sarcastically. "It would have been more high and noble-spirited, I dare -say, to have blazed abroad her domestic grievances; but she had no doubt -a little consideration for her children, and the honour and -respectability of their house and name." - -"Oh, nonsense! that was all very well when they were children to -consider them; but when they were men, it signified very little," said -Mrs. de Burgh. - -"But _then_," suggested Mary, with trembling earnestness, "then she must -have had great comfort in their affection and support." - -"Yes," answered Mr. de Burgh, "in Eustace she had, I know, unfailing -comfort and support." - -"And Eugene?" anxiously demanded Mary. "Surely he too--" - -"Of course," Mrs. de Burgh hastened to exclaim, "no one could be fonder -or kinder to his mother though, because"--looking angrily at her -husband--"he had the sense and the discretion not to quarrel with his -father, and strength of mind not to _go mad_--Louis, I suppose, wishes -to make you believe that Eugene was not kind to his mother." - -"Nothing would make me believe that Eugene was not kind to his mother," -added Mary with an earnest energy, which showed with what indignation -she would repel this distracting idea. - -And Mr. de Burgh replied with great moderation: - -"Nor did I say anything of the sort. _I_ am not at all in the custom of -asserting grave charges against a person, without certain proof. I only -saw as much into 'the secrets of the prison-house' at Montrevor as would -make me very sorry to have had anything further to do with its -interior." - -Poor Mary! She asked no more questions, she had heard quite enough to -give new and dark impressions to her mind. She saw everything in a -still more bewildering and uncertain light--yet felt a vague, indefinite -dread of further revelation. - -Her sister's carriage being speedily announced, she bade adieu to her -cousins, who were leaving London the next day, and - - "Went like one that hath been stunned, - And is of sense forlorn," - -bearing in her secret soul restless doubts and blind misgivings, she -shrank even from confiding to her most beloved Arthur. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - I knew that in thy bosom dwelt - A silent grief, a hidden fear, - A sting which could be only felt - By spirits to their God most dear, - Which yet thou felt'st from year to year, - Unsoftened, nay, embitter'd still; - And many a secret sigh and tear - Heaved thy sad heart, thine eyes did fill, - And anxious thoughts thou hadst presaging direst ill. - - MOULTRIE. - - -The sequel only brought forth for our heroine further disturbance and -discomfort. - -The newly-risen impediment to the marriage was of necessity the subject -of correspondence. He again threw the blame upon his father, urging his -increasing infirmities of mind and body as the excuse. - -But the plea appeared to Mary's friends evasive and ambiguous, and -greatly indeed was the strength and stability of her affection tried by -the urgent solicitations of those so dear to her, that she would consent -to break off entirely this ill-starred--and as they the more and more -considered it--objectionable engagement. - -But no, there was yet one still more dear to her; and to him, through -good and evil report, her spirit yet must cling-- - - "And stand as stands a lonely tree, - That still unbroke, though gently bent, - Still waves with fond fidelity - Its boughs above a monument." - -By letter too--for there was one crisis of affairs during which the -lovers corresponded on the anxious subject, Eugene failed not to urge -the maintenance of an engagement which on his part he declared he would -never consent to be the first to relinquish. - -Then, how could Mary cast aside an attachment, a hope which had become -so linked with the happiness of her existence, that to contemplate its -extinction, was to see before her extended - - "Dreary and vast and silent the desert of life." - -No, rather was she content in doubt, darkness and uncertainty to wait -and wander, her hope still fixed upon the distant light in the hazy -future. - -A position, such as that in which Mary found herself placed--an -ill-defined and ambiguous matrimonial engagement--is to a young woman -ever, more or less, a misfortune and a trial: something there is in her -life - - "Incomplete, imperfect, and unfinished," - -comprising also as it must do, much of uncertainty and restless doubt. - -The circumstances of Mary's case, rendered hers more peculiarly a -subject for such influences. Removed from the sphere in which her lover -moved, even their correspondence, after the time just mentioned, -entirely ceased; and she heard of him only at intervals--by chance and -vague report. - -She had longed to have those doubts and repellant ideas, Mr. de Burgh's -conversation had insinuated into her mind, cleared away, as she believed -they might, by Eugene's own word of mouth. But this had been denied her. -She had indeed alluded to the report respecting his brother, which Mr. -de Burgh had heard; but Eugene had merely said in reply, that he was -taking every measure to ascertain its accuracy; and she heard nothing -further on that point. - -From Mrs. de Burgh she also ascertained that her cousin Louis had never -carried out his proposed expedition, in search of the friend for whom he -had professed such warm admiration and interest. - -Mary was not so much surprised at this, it being only accordant with her -cousin's ineffectual character--warm and affectionate in heart and -feeling, but unstable in action and resolve; without self-devotedness or -energy in any duty or pursuit, which turned not on the immediate fancy -or interest of the moment--something else had probably put the -intention out of his head. It did seem to Mary strange and unnatural, -that the disappearance of a man such as Eustace Trevor had been -represented to her lively and susceptible fancy, should have been so -tamely endured by his friends in general, to say nothing of his own -brother; but to think on that point was now to raise such a dark and -bewildering cloud of ill-defined misgivings, that Mary put it from her -mind as much as possible. - -There was another point too, on which she indirectly sought -enlightenment and assurance. Eugene's mother. Alas! there indeed she had -heard enough to make her shudder at the idea connected with much within -that house, which she had visited with such pleasure in her unconscious -innocence--but more especially with that sinful old man, who, in the -garb of venerable old age, had been by her so ignorantly revered; yes, -she shuddered to think how appearances may deceive, and shrunk at the -thoughts of ever entering again the scene of such wickedness, as long at -least as Eugene's father continued there to exist. - -That Eugene had in the remotest degree even countenanced that -wickedness, was another point she would not allow herself to -question--or rather, she put it away, like every other deteriorating -rumour, hearsay, or inarticulate whisper, which in the course of time -come with its airy hand to point out her lover as unworthy of the -devotedness of a heart and affections such as hers; put it away in the -utmost recesses of her heart, as we do those things we fear to see or -hear substantiated--when even a breath, a word would suffice to destroy -the illusion now become so closely interwoven with the happiness of -one's existence. - -In the meantime, Mary lived chiefly with the Gillespies though her -heart's true home was with that dear brother, upon whose progress and -success in his profession the chief interest of her life, independent of -her one great hope, was centred; and who, on his part, unselfishly -devoted every interval between the course of study he so energetically -pursued, to her society, endeavouring in every way to promote her -happiness or amusement; and chafing inwardly as he did, over the -position in which she stood; for her sake preserved outward patience and -equanimity, on a point which nevertheless touched him to the quick. Much -he heard, too, which made him devoutly wish the engagement with Eugene -Trevor to be broken off, without his having courage to take the bandage -from his sister's eyes. Much of the private history of these, Eugene -Trevor's days--we call them--of probation--nay, the profligate course -his love for Mary could not even restrain within bounds. Episodes in his -daily walk, with which it is not our intention to sully our pages, but -calculated to make the brother's blood boil with indignation at the idea -of his pure, spotless sister, becoming the wife of such a man. - -But how difficult the task to force on her unsuspecting mind convictions -which might go nigh to break her trembling innocent heart--or at least -blight the happiness of her life. He must patiently allow fate to work -out its course, fervently praying that all might end well. - - * * * * * - -About a year and a half went by--another six months and Arthur Seaham's -term of law study would have terminated; and he declared that to prepare -himself for his last important term, it was necessary that he should -have some more than ordinary relaxation of mind. He had a fancy to go to -Italy, and that Mary should accompany him. She smiled at first -incredulously, thinking he was in jest. She thought the idea too -delightful to be realised. - -He was in earnest, he declared. - -But the journey would be so long; and the expense--could they manage it? - -What were such considerations to the affectionate brother, when he -remarked the glow which had mantled his sister's pale cheeks, or the -animation which lit up her languid eye, as in imagination the warm -breezes of Italy already fanned her brow--her feet trode lightly on its -classic grounds. Their friends had a few prudent objections to the -plan--Italy was so far; Germany--the Rhine, were suggested. But no; -Arthur saw that Mary's countenance fell when the mark fell short of -Italy, therefore he stood firm. - -And thither then the brother and sister went, with an old attached -maid-servant of the family, who still followed the fortunes of the -unmarried daughter; and by the Rhine and Switzerland they proceeded into -Italy. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - We came to Italy. I felt - A yearning for its sunny sky; - My very spirit seem'd to melt - As swept its first warm breezes by. - - WILLIS. - - -An early morning in Italy! Who that from experience has not enjoyed--can -realise the conception, much less describe, the luxurious delight of the -first hours of a summer morning in that radiant climate. - -"It was the morn of such a day, as must have risen on Eden first," that -Mary Seaham went forth from the little inn near Tivoli, to join her -brother who had preceded her some little time to make arrangements -respecting their intended excursion of the day. - -She waited--but when he did not come, could no longer resist the -tempting aspect of the scenery without, to stroll onwards from the house -towards the merry waters which danced on their musical way not far -distant from the spot; and as she proceeded through the fragrant -air--beneath the transparent sky, the sigh she heaved could have been -caused but by the burden of enjoyment now weighing upon her senses; for -all human care--all sadness, all unrest, all passionate yearnings or -pensive remembrances--in short, all unconnected with "the mere and -breathing charm of life," seemed in that thrilling hour, annihilated and -forgotten. - -But something glittering on the ground, near a flower she had stooped to -pick, suddenly attracted her attention. She took it up and examined it -more closely. It was a massive signet ring. What was Mary's astonishment -to see engraved upon the seal, the initials "E. T." with the Trevor coat -of arms. - -Her first thought was of Eugene--could it be that he by some strange -coincidence was near? or that he had purposely followed her to Italy? -and her heart beat fast, and her cheek glowed at the suggestion. Yet she -had never remembered observing such a ring on Eugene's finger, and -then--another indefinite recollection of having somewhere before seen -that same impression on some letter, certainly not _from_ her lover, -occurred to her. - -Yes--and suddenly the breakfast-table at Silverton, and that letter--the -letter to Eugene which she had ever since suspected must have been the -turning-point of her previous perfect felicity, but which she had always -supposed must have been from Eugene's father. That large red seal the -little Louisa had displayed before her eyes. All was now before her. But -how then came it lying here upon this foreign soil? - -Was it forbidden her to lose, even for a moment, the thrilling -consciousness of the fate which bound her, that there should be now -thrown across her very path, this startling reminder? - -Standing fixed to the spot--turning the signet over and over in her -hand, an uncertain, half-bewildered expression on her sweet face--a -sudden idea which crimsoned it to the very temples, then leaving it -paler than before--suddenly lit up her countenance. - -How, indeed, came it lying there? "E. T." Surely from the old man's -finger it had not dropped; and if not from Eugene's, might it, could it -have been from that of the lost, unhappy, wandering brother, Eustace's? - -With what object, what intent, she scarcely knew herself--but impulse -moved her, with beating heart and trembling step, to pursue the path -which she had taken, only remembering the while, that last night, after -she was in bed, there had been an arrival at the inn. Two gentlemen from -Rome, the _cameriera_ who called her in the morning told her, had roused -the house up at a very late hour; and that one of these belated -travellers had nevertheless already pressed the dewy turf before -her--that it might be him who was the loser, was perhaps, the paramount -idea which now possessed her as she hurried on over this fair Italian -ground as light in limb--alas! less light at heart as when bounding -over the breezy wilds of her native land. - -She had not been wrong in her conjecture. A sudden turn in the lovely -vale she had entered presented to her view, at no great distance from -the spot she had attained, a broken fountain, the silvery sound of whose -ringing waters faintly reached her ear; and near this, half concealed by -the branches of a leaning tree, she discerned the figure of a man, -standing watching its light and sparkling play. - -A few half irresolute steps brought her nearer and nearer still--a few -more, and she stood attracted as if by an irresistible spell almost -close behind the object of her search. His face had been turned away, -but the light rustling of her garments when she drew so near, attracted -his attention. - -He looked round, and there stood Mary with parted lips and crimsoned -brow--that look of strange, deep, and eager scrutiny directed towards -him. - -Never did the face of mortal man undergo such immediate change, as did -the calm, noble countenance which at the same time revealed itself to -the intruder; never were two simple words uttered with such thrilling -fervency of tone, as was the ejaculation which broke from the stranger's -lips. - -"Miss Seaham," he exclaimed; and in accents scarce less earnest in its -emotion, Mary's trembling lips faltered Mr. Temple's name. - -Yes, it was indeed Edward Temple, upon whom she gazed with ill-defined -ideas--and feelings of bewilderment and perplexity--her high-wrought -expectations unable all at once to sink themselves to the level of -natural composure--pale, agitated, and trembling, without further -greeting or explanation, - - "She showed the ring." - -"I found it," she said with almost hysterical incoherency, "and thought -perhaps--but your's it cannot be--and yet it is strange--the initials -are the same--but--can it really be, that your crest--your arms also are -similar?" - -For all reply he gently took the ring from her outstretched hand, and in -silence seemed to examine it. Then without looking up, and in a low, -calm voice he said: - -"You expected I conclude, to find the owner had been Eugene Trevor?" - -"No, not Eugene," Mary quietly replied, restored to greater -self-possession, "but perhaps, I thought--it was a random idea--that -perhaps it might have been his brother Eustace." - -The ring dropped suddenly from her listener's fingers, as she uttered -these last words. - -"And what," he murmured, having stooped to raise it from the ground, -"and what interest can Miss Seaham take in that ill-starred, that -unhappy man; that outcast, alien brother, that her mistake should cause -disappointment, such as I so plainly perceive it to have occasioned -her?" - -Mary probably attributed to wounded feeling the trembling pathos of the -speaker's voice, for with all the simple earnestness of her kindly -nature, she hastened in gentle soothing accents to reply: - -"Mr. Temple--if disappointment was the first impulse of my -feelings--believe me, when I say, there is scarcely any one else," with -a weary sigh, the tears gathering in her eyes, "with whom a meeting so -unexpected, could just now have afforded me such unmixed pleasure." - -For one short moment her hand was retained by the so-called Mr. Temple -in a trembling pressure, which appeared to speak all his heart's -grateful acknowledgement, whilst those dark eyes fixed themselves upon -her face with mournful earnestness of expression. - -But the next moment, with a low-breathed sigh, which might have seemed -the echo of her own, he released her hand, and turned away his head. - -"You are kind to say this," he murmured, "for myself, I can only declare -this meeting to be a happiness such as I had hardly expected ever to -taste again in this world. But," he anxiously inquired, "will you again -permit me to inquire the reason of the more than common--nay even, -taking into consideration his relationship--more than natural interest, -it would appear you feel in the unfortunate Eustace Trevor." - -The earnest melancholy of his tone thrilled on Mary's heart. - -"Mr. Temple," she said eagerly, "you speak with feeling on this subject, -can it, oh! can it be possible that you have ever seen, ever known -Eugene Trevor's brother? Oh, tell me if this is really the case, for you -say true--in more than common degree--quite independently of selfish -motives, connected with my own happiness--has my interest been excited -in his discovery. It has been most strongly awakened in the fate, and -history of one who has lately been brought before me in a light so -charming yet so sad. Oh! Mr. Temple, you do not deny the fact. Then, -tell me, only tell me where he can be found?" - -Eustace Trevor had turned upon her the full light of his radiant -countenance, radiant with a new and strange delight, the nature of which -she could not comprehend; but as, with clasped hands and beseeching -countenance, she uttered this latter inquiry, it was answered by a -gesture, seeming to imply by her listener ignorance in the required -information. - -"You, then, did not know him?" she resumed, with renewed disappointment -in her tone. - -"I did know him--ah, too well!" was the murmured reply, his eyes, with a -strange and mysterious expression, fixed upon the ground. - -Very pale suddenly grew Mary's cheek as she looked upon him thus. Her -lips parted, and her heart beat fast as from the shock of a strange and -sudden idea, which flashed across her senses. But she put by the -suggestion as the wild improbable coinage of her own high wrought -imagination. She remembered too what had struck her often vaguely -before, and also her brother's remark on a former occasion, with -reference to the same resemblance. But when she looked again, the -glowing illusion had faded, her companion was again calmly regarding -her, again asking--in what she esteemed a cold and careless tone of -voice--from whom it was, she had received the impression respecting -Eustace Trevor, to which she had just alluded. - -"It was his friend, and my cousin--Louis de Burgh, who first spoke of -him to me in such warm and glowing terms; but he chiefly raised my -interest by the beautiful but melancholy picture he drew of his devoted -affection for his mother--that mother," she added in a low, sad tone, -"with whose unhappy history, I then for the first time was made -acquainted--indeed it caused his very affliction to become almost holy -in my eyes--by showing it to have been but the crisis of his high and -sacred grief. Mr. Temple," she continued with enthusiasm; "there seems -to me something, if I may so speak, almost God-like in the pure and -devoted love of a strong proud-hearted man towards his mother; and it -_is_ God-like, for was not the last earthly thought--the last earthly -care of Him who hung upon the cross, even in his mortal agony--for his -mother!" - -The speaker's glistening eyes were raised above or she might have seen -tears indeed, - - "Such as would not stain an angel's cheek," - -also irradiating the eyes of that "strong proud-hearted man," as she so -expressed herself--who was standing by her side. - -But she could not have heard--for it was not breathed for mortal ear, -the deep and fervent cry: "My Mother!" which her innocent words, like -thrilling music by the winds, struck from the secret chords of that -manly tender heart. - -But this was a theme Eustace Trevor's melting soul could not trust -itself to pursue; not indeed, without it were first allowed him to cast -away all subterfuge and disguise, and at the feet of that good, kind, -and gentle girl, open his whole bruised and desolate heart, to receive -that Heavenly balsam of pity and consolation, she had ready stored -within her breast for the faithful son of that wronged and sainted -mother! - -And could this be done? Had he not for the sake of this same gentle -being, in some sort pledged himself to such an extent, that yielding to -the impulse would be baseness and dishonour. - -Alas! as in all divergement from the direct and natural paths of human -action, in whatsoever spirit they may have been entered upon, the time -must come--circumstances must arise--when the line of duty becomes -bewilderingly shadowy and indistinct, even to the most conscientious and -true-hearted. - -How few can steer their way unwavering through the straightened pathway -of a false position. It is not there, that like a stately ship he can -vigorously part the waves of circumstance or temptation, - - "And bear his course aright. - Nor ought for tempest doth from it depart, - Nor ought for fairer weather's false delight." - -Therefore, with an effort over his feelings which might have made him -appear unaffected by the sentiments his companion had so touchingly -expressed, he was forced merely to reply: "Yes, Louis de Burgh was his -friend; and it would be very gratifying to Eustace Trevor to know that -one friend at least in that world he has abandoned, retains him in such -affectionate remembrance. And his brother"--he added, with more -hesitating restraint in his tone, "did you never receive anything of the -same impression from him?" - -"Eugene," Mary answered with some slight embarrassment, "rarely ever -enlarged upon a theme which of course had become connected in his mind -with painful feelings." - -"_Painful indeed!_" was the other's significant rejoinder. - -"Never but once," Mary continued, "did I venture to question him upon -the subject with any minuteness, and then he manifested such strong and -painful emotion that I never afterwards approached it willingly. But at -that time," she added with a sigh, "I had certainly heard very little of -his brother, but the dark and terrible malady with which he was -afflicted. Mr. Temple," she continued anxiously, "is not his complete -disappearance most mysterious and inexplicable? and does it not appear -to you almost impossible, that all the means which have been taken for -his recovery could have been so completely unattended by success, -supposing he were still alive?" - -"But have any such means been taken?" her companion asked with some -marked curiosity. - -"Oh yes!" she hastened to reply "on Eugene's part at least." - -A peculiar smile played on her companion's lips. It did not fail to -strike Mary, and the incredulity it seemed to imply caused her feelings -now so peculiarly sensitive upon that point, to be immediately up in -arms. - -"Mr. Temple, can you for a moment doubt this fact, he is Eugene's own -brother, and--" she added in a low voice, the crimson blood at the same -time mantling her cheeks, as the remembrance that she was addressing a -rejected lover, pressed more consciously upon her, "he had interests of -a different nature, closely connected with the assurance of his lost -brother's fate?" - -Mr. Temple started with sudden excitement. - -"Indeed!" he exclaimed, then averting his head, he added, as if the -utterance of each syllable was a separate pang. "Do you mean to say that -there is still a question of this marriage?" - -"There is," she replied; "though of a very remote and undefined nature, -our engagement still subsists." - -Having said this with no little embarrassment of manner, the same -feeling probably caused her to raise her arm from the fountain, over -which she had been unconsciously leaning, and by tacit consent they -turned away from the spot, silently beginning to retrace their steps. -They had not proceeded thus many yards, when Arthur Seaham appeared in -sight, accompanied by a second person, who Mary, with an exclamation of -delighted surprise, recognized as Mr. Wynne, concerning whom in the -absorbing interest of the last hour she had no time to seek information. - -The good clergyman on his part, who had fallen in with her brother at -the hotel, was charmed beyond expression by this fortunate and -unexpected meeting with his own dear children, (so he called Mary and -Arthur;) and peculiar was the glance of interest which beamed from his -kindly eyes, as having gazed anxiously into Mary's face, he turned then -towards her companion, who nevertheless with his fine countenance only a -little paler than usual, was exchanging kind and cordial greetings with -young Seaham. - -"Oh! Mary, Mary!" the good clergyman whispered, as he drew his fair -friend's arm within his own and walked on, the others following together -behind, "I have heard sad stories of you, little quiet one, since I saw -you last;--trampling noble flowers under your feet, and grasping at -thorns, which something in that sweet face of your's tells me have not -failed to do their wounding work. This comes of reading all that dreamy -poetry I used to warn you against. A good and pleasant thing it is in -its degree, but too much of it dazzles and deludes the senses, till at -length they come to be unable to discern darkness from light, good from -evil. Well! well!" he added, as Mary pretty well accustomed by this time -to indirect attacks of this nature, attempted no defence, but with a -faint melancholy smile, only drooped her head in silence and -resignation. "Ah! well, even now who knows! The Almighty never will -permit his little ones to walk on long in darkness, but in the end ever -leads them by secret ways into safe and quiet pastures." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - The stern - Have deeper thoughts than your dull eyes discern, - And when they love, your smilers guess not how - Beats the strong heart, though less their lips avow. - - BYRON. - - - The victory is most sure - For him, who, seeking faith by virtue, strives - To yield entire submission to the law - Of conscience. - - WORDSWORTH. - - -"Arthur, this can scarcely be possible," Mary exclaimed with almost -trembling solicitude, when alone with her brother, he informed her of -the proposal Mr. Wynne had made--and he had unhesitatingly -accepted--that he and his friend Mr. Temple should join their party -during the succeeding week's tour. - -"Not if it is disagreeable to you, Mary, certainly," was the brother's -reply; "otherwise I must say I can see no objection to the plan; nor -does Mr. Wynne either it seems, as he made the proposal, being of course -aware by this time of the past circumstances respecting you and Temple. -All that of course is an affair over and forgotten, particularly when -made aware how matters stand with regard to your engagement with Trevor; -so on your part, you will have nothing to fear. It only rests with him, -I should think, to determine whether he is equal to the ordeal of your -society, though to judge by his countenance just now, firm and calm as a -statue, after a meeting which must have put his feelings rather to the -test, I should say there was not much doubt upon the matter. - - "'Nay, if she loves me not, I care not for her. - Shall I look pale because the maiden blooms, - Or sigh because she smiles--or sighs for others.' - -No--no, Miss Mary, that is not our way, however it may be with you -ladies in cases of the kind. - - "'Great or good, or kind, or fair, - I will ne'er the more despair; - If she love me, this believe, - I will die e'er she shall grieve, - - "'Be she with that goodness blest, - Which may merit name of best. - If she be not such to me-- - What care I how good she be.'" - -Thus the brother playfully sung and quoted, though whether the -philosophical doctrine the old poet implied in his song had the effect -of easing his listener's mind upon the point in question, her faint and -absent smile was not exactly calculated to declare; though perhaps could -he have read aright the secret history of that anxious countenance, he -might have seen how far less any such considerations were agitating his -sister's mind than the remembrance of Eugene's strange and angry -excitement in the Edinburgh gardens, on the subject of this same Edward -Temple; and the question now chiefly agitating her breast to be, whether -she could without treason to her lover, place herself in the position -and circumstances now under discussion--yet what was she to do? She knew -that Arthur could not enter into her feelings on this point; besides, -was there not some unconfessed leaning in her secret heart in favour of -the arrangement. For that interview of the morning, and the -circumstances from which it took its rise; had it not aroused ideas of -perplexity, interest, and anxiety in her mind? was there not still much -left unaccounted for and unexplained? - -She mentioned the ring to her brother. He was surprised, and thought it -a strange coincidence, though certainly it did often happen that -families of different names, bore the same crests, sometimes the same -arms. - -Mary's recognition of the impression showed at least there to be, some -connection between Eugene Trevor and Mr. Temple. Arthur could easily -gain explanation from Mr. Wynne on the subject. He also was often -puzzled to know to what family of Temple his friend belonged. - -But, before time or explanation was given for any such inquiry, the -little party yielding themselves passively as it were to the -irresistible force of circumstances which had so singularly united them, -were pursuing their way over the enchanted ground Arthur had previously -marked out for their excursion, most of which the two more experienced -travellers had already explored, but gladly retrode for the benefit of -their young companions. - - "By sweet Val d'Arno's tinted hills, - In Vallambrosa's convent gloom, - Mid Terni's vale of singing rills, - By deathless lairs in solemn Rome. - - Ruin, and fane, and waterfall." - -They wandered delightedly, and never did Mr. Wynne and Arthur cease to -congratulate themselves and one another; the latter, on the valuable -acquisition he and his sister had gained in such able cicerones as -himself and his companion; whilst Mary and Mr. Temple, by their silence -only, gave testimony to the same effect. - -Yes, it were well for the good Mr. Wynne and the young and -hopeful-hearted Arthur - - "Cheerful old age, and youth serene," - -to yield themselves to the charm of sunny skies and classic ground, and -to feel almost as if earth wanted no more to make it Heaven. - - "A calm and lovely paradise - Is Italy for hearts at ease." - -But for the other two, as may be supposed, there wanted something more, -or rather something less, to render their enjoyment as full and -unalloyed. - -For in spite of all Arthur had urged to the contrary, it was too plainly -evident that something there was--a restraint--a consciousness, -influencing their secret feelings, and imparting themselves to their -outward demeanour, in common intercourse one with another; which no -exciting or absorbing diversities of scene or circumstance could -entirely dissipate or dispel. - -Sometimes indeed, Mary, carried away by the delight of the moment, would -forget whose eye had fixed itself for a brief moment, with such earnest -interest, on her countenance; or even meet unshrinkingly the glance, the -smile of sympathy, which her murmurings of enraptured admiration at -times drew forth. - -Sometimes unconsciously, as if it had been only as a portion of the -magic spell which hung on all around her, she found herself listening to -that voice, whose few, calm, graphic words had power to throw desired -light on some old haunt or story--or touch with a bright glow the scene -before them, or oftener turn away with a startled look of anxious -thought as if some sudden association or remembrance recalled her to -consciousness, and broke the spell. - -"Too happy to be your guide and guardian, through scenes and beauty -which even your lively imagination is incompetent to conceive!" - -Did the words, which had once proceeded from those same lips, thrill -upon her recollection? or was it only the jealous disapproval of her -lover Eugene which would start up to trouble her on such occasions? - -Whilst Eustace--it would be vain to tell what caused the quick -transition of that glance or smile into the cold and rigidly averted -brow, or caused to die away upon his lips words whose inspiration sprang -from a source which could not be worthily encouraged. - -Thus, day after day went on, and brought but diminished opportunity of -touching on those points of interest so near her heart, and concerning -which she more and more became possessed with the vague and restless -fancy, that Mr. Temple possessed more power than any one imagined of -enlightenment; for she avoided, as much as possible, finding herself -alone with him, and if at times, as inevitably it occurred, they were -thrown together apart from the other two, Mary's haunting vision of -Eugene's jealous disapproval of her intimacy with Mr. Temple would cast -a restraint over her feelings, and made her shrink from availing herself -of the favourable opportunity thus afforded. - -Of course Mr. Wynne--and through him Eustace Trevor had soon learnt from -Arthur every particular relating to his sister's situation with regard -to Eugene, and the effect produced upon the latter by the circumstances -which transpired, was evidenced only by the calm, rigid expression which -settled on his interesting countenance--only subdued into soft and -gentle melancholy, when at times, unobserved by herself, his eyes could -fix themselves on Mary; and as for meeting her half-way, in any renewal -of the subject, so particularly discussed near the fountain that first -morning of their meeting, he, with almost equal pointedness, might have -seemed to avoid any occasion which could tend to its revival. - -On the other hand, from Mr. Wynne the more unconscious and unsuspecting -Arthur could gain little satisfactorily information on the topic on -which he had promised to make inquiries. He always fought off any cross -questioning on any particular subject connected with his friend Temple. - -Indeed this was easy enough to do; for heart and soul absorbed in the -exciting enjoyment of scenes and circumstances in which he entered with -such enthusiastic delight, Arthur was not very capable of pressing hard -just now upon any serious point, not immediately connected with the -interest of the day or the hour. - -But when Mary, with whom the old man had hitherto as skilfully warded -off any timid attempts on her part to draw him forth on the subject on -which he was vowed to secresy--when she, one sultry afternoon, had been -conversing for some time so delightfully with her dear old friend, -concerning days gone by, in the cool marble _sala_ of an old _palazzo_ -near Genoa, where they had found temporary accommodation--without any -preparation, fixed her earnest eyes upon her companion's face, and said -beseechingly: - -"Mr. Wynne, will you answer me one question? you are acquainted I know, -with everything concerning Mr. Temple; but I only wish to ascertain one -point; was he ever acquainted with Eugene Trevor?" - -The good man was taken by surprise, and displayed by his countenance -considerable signs of embarrassment, succeeded, however, by equal -symptoms of relief, when looking up he beheld Mr. Temple, who had joined -them unobserved, and must inevitably have overheard Mary's words, and -witnessed the perplexity they had occasioned her friend. - -Mary's cheek also flushed deeply; yet when the next moment Mr. Wynne, -with some careless excuse for leaving them, had walked away, and she -found herself alone with him who best could answer to the question which -had scarcely died upon her lips, she took courage, and with her -eyelashes sweeping her varying cheek, in a low, yet steady voice, said: - -"Mr. Temple, I was asking Mr. Wynne a question, to which for some reason -he did not seem able or willing to reply; will you tell me whether you -ever knew Eugene Trevor?" - -An instant's pause--then, in a tone in which, though calm, there was -something unnatural and strange in the sound, there came the laconic -reply--"_I did_." - -And then there was a solemn pause. For what could Eustace Trevor -add--how reply to the mute but eager questioning of those eyes, now -fixed intently upon him, as if in the verdict of his lips there lay more -power to ease the heart of its blind fears and nameless misgivings--more -in one calm word of his - - "Than all the world's defied rebuke." - -Therefore, though Mary held her breath, hoping, longing that he should -proceed, yet shrinking from more direct inquiry, there he stood, with -lips compressed and stern averted eyes; no marble statue could have -remained more mute; till to break the ominous and oppressive silence, -Mary pronounced the name of "Eustace Trevor." - -Then, indeed, her listener's eyes relaxed their fixed expression--a -sudden glow lit up his countenance. - -In a low, deep tone, and with a soft, melancholy smile, he demanded: - -"And what, Miss Seaham, of Eustace Trevor?" - -"What of him? Oh! Mr. Temple, all--everything that you may know--may -have reason to suspect or conceive concerning him!" - -Another pause; and then the voice of Mr. Temple, with renewed sadness -replied: - -"What could I tell you concerning him, but that he is a wanderer upon -the face of the earth, as you--as everybody are aware." - -"But why--but wherefore should this be; why forsake his country, his -home, his kindred? Now, when Louis de Burgh gave me reason to suppose -all further necessity was removed, his temporary affliction entirely -subsided, why not return?" - -"Return!" interrupted the other--"return with that brand--that -stigma--which once attached to his name, must mark him in the eyes of -men--a thing of suspicion, nay, of fear for ever; return, when that -return must be to hear that curse in every blast--to be cut off from -every hope, every tie which makes life beautiful to other men, -or--" he paused; for he was on the point of saying, "or--bitter -alternative--brand a still worse stigma on another; on one who however -unworthy of such consideration, I must still remember as my brother." -Thus he probably would have spoken, had not he been recalled to -recollection by the strange and anxious expression depicted on Mary's -countenance, and then he added, with an effort at self-command: - -"The imputation of madness is a fearful thing, Miss Seaham, to be -attached to a man's name; and Eustace Trevor, unfortunate man! is -possessed of feelings most sensitive--morbidly sensitive, perhaps." - -"It is--it is," Mary faltered, "a fearful thing if suffered to rest -there; but surely his is not the course to accomplish the removal of the -idea. Let Eustace Trevor but return--let him at least try and experience -what a brother's kindness--what a sister's love can do, to wipe from his -remembrance the morbid memory of his past affliction; and show to the -world (if he fears its altered smiles) that the shock his noble mind -sustained was but for a moment; that he is--" - -But it was enough--those words, a brother's kindness--still more, a -sister's love, had thrilled acutely upon the listener's heart. - -And Mary paused, startled to behold the expression in the eyes bent so -earnestly upon her. - -"A sister's love!" what was such love to him! - -However, with another strong effort he said in a voice scarce audible -from emotion, "For such a sister's love, he might indeed brave and defy -the scorn--the ignominy of the universe; but," he faltered, "it cannot -be." - -A silence of some minutes ensued. It was broken by Mary, who said in an -anxious trembling voice, - -"Mr. Temple, I have a favour to ask of you: I know you are acquainted -with much of the private history of the Trevors--I am _sure_ you are--I -therefore entreat you will speak candidly upon the subject, and tell me -your own opinion of Eugene Trevor. To you I can speak as I feel I can to -no one else. My mind of late has been disturbed by doubts and fears upon -the subject of Eugene. I know you _can_, you _will_ speak the truth; so -conceal not your real opinion from me." - -"Miss Seaham, excuse me," Mr. Temple replied gravely, and with a degree -of proud coldness. "I must decline to speak in any way of Eugene Trevor. -It is a long time now since we have met." - -"Oh, why--why," faltered Mary, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, -"would you too, like the rest, by your looks, even by your silence, make -me suspect the worth, the rectitude of Eugene, and give me the miserable -idea that the affection and heart's devotion now of years have been -wasted and bestowed in vain?" - -It was a difficult moment for that generous, noble soul. The peculiar -situation in which he was placed almost bewildered his sense of -discernment between what was right and wrong in his position, and -darkened the way before him. How act--how speak--how meet this critical -emergency? - -The struggle must have been indeed intense, which enabled him at length -to rise a conqueror over the conflicting powers which beset his soul, to -subdue all selfish promptings of inferior nature--all selfish impulses -and considerations; and speak and act as one might have spoken and acted -who had never been Mary Seaham's lover, or Eugene Trevor's injured -brother. - -As a brother to a well-beloved sister--or as one of his high and holy -calling might have seized that favourable opportunity for endeavouring -to turn a perplexed and trembling suppliant on his counsel and -assistance from some dangerous path or fatal delusion, he took up the -strain, and implored her not to seek from him any further information -on a subject--concerning which he must tell her at once, that for many -reasons it was impossible for him to enter--he could not speak of Eugene -Trevor. But he implored her to think well of those warnings so strongly -pressed upon her consideration by her anxious friends--above all, by the -internal evidence of her own pure soul--against a course of action in -which the peace and happiness of her future life might be so fatally -involved. - -"Talk not of wasted affection," he touchingly exclaimed; "affection -disinterested and blameless as yours, was never wasted--never bestowed -in vain--for some good purpose, the All Wise so willed that you should -for a time bestow it, and if He ordains that its waters should turn -back, like the rain to their springs, He wills also that they should -fill them with refreshment. Miss Seaham, it is not for me to advise you -to break off your engagement with Eugene Trevor. I am the last person in -the world--situated towards you as I have been"--he added in a low sad -voice, "who ought to presume so to do; but let me speak to you, as you -may remember I once before addressed you--before it had ever entered my -heart to conceive you would stand in the position you now are in towards -this Eugene Trevor. Did I not then warn you of the world into which you -were hastening so unwarily--of its sins, its sorrows, and its snares; -but still more, of its friendships, its smiles, its Judas kisses, -awaiting not alone the eagle but the dove--the holy, harmless, and -undefiled? And _now_ do not my gloomy words find an echo in your heart? -does not that look of care, that heavy sigh, confess that it had been -better never to have tasted of the feverish joy, the unsatisfying -delight, in exchange for the peace and tranquillity you had hitherto -enjoyed? Is not your confidence disturbed--your trust shaken in the -object on whom your affections have been set? do you not fear to lean -more heavily on that reed lest it pierce you--to grasp it firmer, lest -you crush, and prove its hollowness? Oh, Miss Seaham! is not this in -some degree the case with you? if so, do not seek to dive further into -the why or the wherefore. Let God's providence have its way, when, it -seeks to turn you from a course it is not good for you to follow. Let -faith and patience have their perfect work; seek peace and happiness -from a higher, surer source than the dubious object on which your -affections have been placed." - -Mr. Temple paused, but he had no reason to suppose his earnest appeal -had been as water spilt upon the ground; for something in Mary's -face--that something, which had become of late its ruling and habitual -expression, which might have seemed to breathe forth the Psalmist's -weary longing for "the wings of a dove to fly away and be at rest"--at -rest, from the ever receding hopes--the sickening doubts and -apprehensions--the wearying mysteries attendant on her position, which -pressed so heavily on a nature formed rather for the peace and calm of -gentle emotions, of peaceful joys, than for its strife of passions, its -storm of woes; an expression which had appeared to Eustace Trevor to -deepen as he spoke, for not for a moment did he dare to interpret it -otherwise. Never did he surmise--never _dare_ even to desire--that words -uttered with such disinterested and single-minded intention, and in -accents tremulous with such unselfish emotions, could in any other way -affect his listener's heart. That in that hour of languid yearning for -strength she felt that she did not possess; for rest and peace founded -on some surer basis than that "reed shaken by the wind," such as her -inauspicious love had gradually assumed the semblance, she should be -most ready to lean her weary head on the noble breast, cling to the -sheltering arm of him who thus had counselled her, and placing her -destiny in his hands, ask him to guide her future course through the -deceitful bewildering mazes of this life. - -But no word, no look betrayed the secret impulse of her heart; and in -the same anxious strain Eustace Trevor proceeded: - -"Darkly, ambiguously, I have been compelled to speak; the subject having -been, as you can bear witness, forced in a manner upon me; yet one step -further I will take, and leave the rest in the hands of God. This ring," -drawing the signet from his finger, where for the first time since the -adventure in which it had formed a part, Mary had again seen it; "keep -it," he continued, in a voice tremulous with emotion as Mary -mechanically received it in her hands, looking wonderingly and -enquiringly in his face; "keep it till you see _him_, Eugene Trevor -again; then show it to him from _me_--from Edward Temple. Tell him the -circumstances under which you received it, and ask him to clear up the -mystery concerning it. If he refuses, then for his own sake as well as -your own, I conjure you to bid him farewell for ever. If on the -contrary, casting off all falsehood and deceit, he lays all before you, -then--then--may Heaven direct the rest!" - - * * * * * - -An hour or two after Mary had been left alone within the marble _sala_, -almost as in a dream, gazing upon that mysterious and momentous ring, -the little party were proceeding northwards in the cool of the evening, -in one of the hired conveyances of the country. Mary, her brother, and -Mr. Wynne occupying the interior; Mary being only at a later stage of -the journey, confirmed in her supposition of Mr. Temple having proceeded -thus far on the outside, for since he had parted abruptly from her he -had not again appeared. - -Then, however, when, to change horses, they stopped before a road-side -inn, her brother suddenly touched her arm, and directed her attention -towards the spot, where in the shadow of the door, his features only -partly distinguished in the declining evening light, stood the tall and -stately figure of Temple, apparently conversing with Mr. Wynne who had -just alighted, though his eyes were fixed earnestly in their direction. - -"Look, Mary, does it not strike you now?" - -"What, Arthur?" - -"That likeness; there just as he stands in that uncertain light?" - -Mary for all reply shuddered slightly, and turned away her head. The -next moment Mr. Wynne had rejoined them, and they started again. - -But by the inn-door there still stood that dark figure. - -Arthur, with an exclamation of surprise, put forth his head, and -inquired why they had left Mr. Temple behind. - -"Because--because," Mr. Wynne replied in a peculiar tone of voice, "he -has taken it into his head not to travel any further with us just now. I -shall rejoin him when I have seen you safe at Genoa, for I cannot make -up my mind to part so suddenly with my two dear children. Temple desired -me to bid you good bye, Arthur, for he has no great fancy for -leave-takings, at any time; and I was to say farewell for him to you -too, Miss Mary." - -This he said in a more serious manner, taking Mary's hand as he spoke, -and gazing earnestly into her face. The hand he held was very cold, and -on the pale face there was a strange and anxious expression; but whilst -Arthur was loud in his professions of surprise and regret at this -unexpected deprivation, Mary uttered no word of astonishment or regret. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - Bear up, - Yet still bear up. No bark did e'er, - By stooping to the storm of fear, - Escape the tempest's wrath. - - BEAUMONT. - - - He doth tell me where to borrow - Comfort in the midst of sorrow. - - WITHERS. - - -It was the eve of the opening assize day, and even in the quiet little -town of ---- might be observed that aspect of bustle and excitement -generally prevailing on such occasions. - -In a private apartment of the hotel honoured by the presence of the -judge himself, sat a young man bending with the intensest interest and -attention over the books and papers which lay upon the table before him. - -It was Arthur Seaham, whose brave and strenuous exertions had been -crowned with honourable success. He had been called to the bar, and was -about to start forward with hopeful confidence on his new career, it -being his first case with which we find him so zealously engaged. - -Happy young man! Many might have envied you at that moment. Young in -heart, sanguine and resolute in spirit, with every good and honourable -motive to urge you on to exertion--a life of action and reality is -before you. - - "Life that shall send a challenge to the end, - And when it comes, say--Welcome, friend!" - -"_L'action avec un but_"--the auspicious banner under which you launch -forth upon your new career. - -For some hours the young barrister continued unremitting at his task, -and would perhaps have remained so many more, had not another voice than -that which had probably during this time been sounding in his -ears--suddenly broke the spell, and flushed his cheek--kindled his eye -with a very different inspiration to that which had previously illumined -it. - -A clear musical laugh which, to Arthur's ear, sounded more like the -ringing waters of Tivoli than anything he had ever since heard. - -Then the door opening, admitted what might have appeared (to pursue the -same strain of analogy) a wandering sunbeam from the skies of golden -Italy, in the person of Carrie Elliott, the judge's lovely daughter. - -"I am disturbing you, I know, Mr. Seaham," she exclaimed blushingly, -advancing; "but it is your sister's fault. She says it is quite time -that you should be disturbed; did you not, Miss Seaham?" turning to her -companion. - -Mary, who, with a faint and gentle smile, very different in its -character to that which played so brightly on the features of the other, -acquiesced in the truth of the assertion. But Arthur did not look very -angry at the interruption, and was soon standing by the window entering -with a very unbusiness-like spirit into conversation with his lively -visitor, who, this being her father's first circuit in a judicial -capacity, had been, much to her amusement and delight, suffered to -accompany him on this occasion. - -To this circumstance had Mary also been indebted for the opportunity -thus afforded her of witnessing her brother's first start in his -profession; for having been of late thrown somewhat intimately into the -society of the judge's family, it had finally been arranged that the two -young ladies should have the benefit of each other's society, on an -occasion of such especial interest to them both. - -"But do tell me something about your case, Mr. Seaham. Is it not a very -interesting story? a poor young woman accused of forgery?" - -"Yes," Seaham replied, glancing at his sister; "at least an attempt to -exchange bank-notes, which on discovery were found to be forged. It is, -indeed, an interesting case; and having full internal evidence that she -is innocent, I am doubly concerned in her acquittal. That fact at least -is in my favour, for I am afraid I shall be never able to plead _con -amore_ under contrary circumstances. The fact is, this poor woman has -been for years toiling hard to amass a sufficient sum to carry her to -America to her betrothed husband. When still far from the desired point, -sickness and other causes having often interrupted her exertions and -retarded her success, she finds her lover, impatient at the delay, -beginning to entertain injurious ideas of her constancy and truth. In -this distressing emergency, it happened (this is her own statement of -the case) that some friend came forward, and made up in those same -forged notes the requisite amount; that she received them in perfect -ignorance of their real character; but refusing absolutely to give up -the name of the guilty donor, she was imprisoned, and now stands -arraigned for at least connivance in the delinquency." - -"Poor creature!" murmured Mary, "is this then the end of all her -deferred hope--and wearing, wasting anxiety of mind and body! Oh! -Arthur, in such a cause you must surely be successful; how much you will -have to say to soften the hearts of her judges, and lead them to look -upon the case with lenity and pity!" - -"Really, Mary!" exclaimed her brother, smiling with affectionate -interest at the sudden energy with which the subject of discussion had -animated his sister; the thrilling pathos of her tone--the brilliancy -which lighted up her languid eye--the earnest spirit shining with almost -sublimity from her anxious countenance, all which he had but a moment -ago observed as affording so sad a contrast to the beaming brightness of -her fair companion; "I really believe you would do more for my client in -the way of eloquence than I should, if by eloquence the cause is to be -gained. Do you not think so, Miss Elliott?" - -"Miss Elliott has not yet tested your powers in that way," Mary rejoined -with a smile, whilst Carrie only laughed and blushed. - -"As for my eloquence," she added with a sigh, "it could only spring from -the sympathetic feeling which one woman must have for the sufferings and -the trials of another; at least"--in a low tone she added, "she must be -very young or very happy," glancing at Miss Elliott, "if she be found -wanting in that most powerful of inspirations." - -"Poor woman!" interposed Miss Elliott, who perhaps began to fear she -might be considered too uninspired in the eyes of the young barrister, -"she seems deemed throughout to suspicion. How dreadful to be suspected -wrongfully! But, as for that lover, I am sure he cannot deserve all the -trouble she has suffered on his account. I dare say, the faithlessness -was all on his side, for no person could suspect or doubt any one they -really loved. Do you not think so, Miss Seaham?" turning away her face -from Arthur to look at his sister with a pretty blush. - -An expression of intense pain shot across Mary's countenance. - -"I thought so once," was the almost gasping utterance which trembled on -her lips; but she paused, merely saying in a low tone, her eyes bent -mournfully on the ground, "at any rate, the one who doubts and suspects -is the greatest sufferer of the two. Yet there are circumstances, I -hope, in which, without faithlessness, our perfect trust and confidence -in another may--must indeed be shaken." - -"Of course; otherwise the virtue becomes indeed a very weakness," -rejoined Arthur with some moody significance of tone and manner. - -"Now, I must go, for I suppose it is nearly time to dress for dinner," -exclaimed Miss Elliott, who, though only partially acquainted with the -particulars of Mary's love affair, probably perceived that she had -inadvertantly struck upon some tender string; "I suppose, you will soon -be doing the same." - -And away the gay-hearted creature glided, singing as she went. - -"Now, Mary," Arthur cried, his eyes and ears disenchanted; "wait for me -just one minute." And down he sat for the space of several moments, and -his pen flew swift as thought over the parchment. Mary also sat -patiently, her eyes fixed with a look of affectionate interest on the -intelligent countenance of the writer. - -At length, his task completed, the pen was thrown, with a gesture of -triumph and satisfaction upon the table, and "Now, Mary, it is -finished," was the exulting expression of his lips. - -There was something in the congratulating smile which met his own, that -seemed to change the spirit of the young man's dream; for more -thoughtfully he gathered up his papers, whilst "love, fame, ambition," -might have seemed at once annihilated from his thoughts, by the tone of -voice in which--glancing at Mary, who drew near to assist him--he -abruptly murmured: - -"Mary, you are not looking well." - -"Am I not?" with forced cheerfulness; "ah! I dare say you think so -to-day--by comparison." - -"Nonsense!" knitting his brows; "I am _not_ speaking comparatively, but -quite positively. You have been looking less well every day for some -time. I am becoming impatient. I want to see you looking better, or I -should say, _happier_." - -"As happy and bright I suppose as--" began Mary, attempting playfully to -divert the dreaded theme. - -"Pshaw! as bright as no one. I am thinking only of you, Mary." - -"But you should think of some one else, now Arthur, that you are a -steady, professional man." - -"And now that I am this steady, professional man," taking the words out -of her mouth, "I feel that I am justified and competent to offer my -sister the settled home she once faithfully promised to share with me. -_She_ may have altered her wishes on the subject; mine remain unchanged. -Still, Mary, (whatever you may have taken into your silly little head,) -till your happiness is more definitely secure, you will remain the -paramount object of my interest and affection. My dear Mary," as his -sister putting her hand in his, and smiling gratefully in his face, -still shook her head, as if desiring and expecting for that dear -brother, less unselfish aims, and more smiling hopes to cheer him on his -promising career. - -"God knows," he anxiously continued, "I speak from my heart when I say, -that should you give me any hope that I could in any degree succeed in -the promotion of your happiness, I should require no greater impetus to -any exertion I may be called upon to make, than your affectionate -interest in my success. Nay, do you not remember, even when we were -children, your encouragement was the greatest incentive to my boyish -ambition--how every mark of affection from you was more valuable to me -than any bestowed by my other sisters, although I loved them all so -well. In short, I declare to you, that the power of making me quite -happy lies in your own hands--far more than in any careless-hearted -beauty whom I might in a foolish moment take it into my head to ask to -be my wife--and find, after all, that she did not care a straw for me. -Therefore, dear Mary, only be persuaded to give up this, as I am sure -you must begin to feel it, most equivocal and inauspicious engagement, -and let us try if we cannot be happy together, in time perhaps--as happy -as if no such cloud had ever arisen--and who knows what more propitious -fate may not still be in store for you? - -"Mary," he continued, as his sister shook her head despondingly, "only -consent to let final measures be taken, and I shall go forth to-morrow -with double energy and hope. After all! the pain is more in the idea -than in the reality, for the matter is becoming really a mere affair of -the imagination; for a year and a half you have not seen or heard of -him. But do not think I would make light of the sacrifice. The -destruction of a great hope, must be, under any circumstances, a trial -hard to be endured. But cheer up, dear Mary, there may be a brighter sun -yet to shine upon you. Will you think this over?" - -"I will Arthur," she murmured faintly, "I promise you that your mind -shall very soon be set at rest on this subject." - -She could promise this with a presentiment that the words were not -spoken without foundation--with a certain vague, unaccountable -presentiment, that some crisis was at hand in which her future fate -would surely be accomplished. But she was little prepared for the -communication which her brother now gently broke to her--that the -opportunity was indeed, very soon to be afforded her, for that in the -forthcoming case for which he had just been preparing his brief, Eugene -Trevor would have to appear to give his evidence. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - Un Dieu descend toujours pour dénouer le drame, - Toujours la Providence y veille et nous proclame - Cette justice occulte et ce divin ressort, - Qui fait jouer le temps et gouverne le sort. - - LAMARTINE. - - -The court was crowded early the following morning, for it was not often -that cases of such interest as the principal one to be brought forward -on this occasion were provided by the inhabitants of ----, a town of the -principality, in which it is well known, crime, comparatively speaking, -is more rare than in other portions of the United Kingdom. - -The prisoner had also been long known in the vicinity for her blameless -career, and the patient industry with which, under disadvantages and -discouragements (for she had been at an early age separated from both -her parents, and thrown upon her own resources), she had pursued her -laborious course for ten long years, her heart set on an ever receding -hope, which she had in the end been doomed to see engulphed by the dark -cloud which now overshadowed her fame. - -The court, therefore, was crowded as we said before, when a few minor -cases having been disposed of, the prisoner for the forgery case was -summoned to the bar. - -There was nothing in the appearance of the accused which could at first -sight strike the vulgar gaze. Neither youth nor beauty to excite the -feeling in her behalf; for though to adopt the loving language of the -poet: - - "Fair she was, and young, when in hope - She began the long journey; - Faded she was, and old, when in disappointment it ended;" - -the age of care and trouble, rather than of years, for she was not more -than one or two and thirty. Streaks of grey had already spread over her -forehead, "and the furrows on her cheek spoke the course of bitter -tears." Yet few there were amongst the intelligent and feeling part of -her beholders who did not soon begin to have their interest strongly -rivetted. And one amongst them, who felt her soul moved to its very -depths by pity and womanly compassion the instant her eyes fell upon the -pale meek face which bore such deep traces of sorrow--and patience as -great as her sorrow. - -And yet it was a passive sorrow it expressed, a subdued and passive -suffering, which the careless might have attributed to dulness or -insensibility, so little did the prisoner appear moved to wonder or self -pity, by the sharp sense of unmerited misfortunes. - -No--rather as one whose mind is all made up of submission and -resignation; who, accustomed to the constant anguish of disappointment, -considered as no strange thing this last great grief which had befallen -her. - -And yet, the indictment being read, the prisoner in a low quiet tone -pleaded "Not guilty." - -The facts, as commented upon by the counsel for the crown, were -undeniably against her. Her case was pitiable, it was true. It seemed -that at the very last--besides the sickness which had so often retarded -her endeavours--a robbery committed in the little shop, in which she -carried on a small precarious trade, had despoiled her of the -hardly-earned treasure of years; but this circumstance alone made it -more likely that one in her situation should grasp at any means, -promising to put such an effectual end to her long course of -difficulties and disappointments. She pleaded ignorance as to the nature -of the aid administered to her. Had she then only consented to give up -the name of the guilty donor, the charge would have been withdrawn; and -her pertinacious refusal to do so was enlarged upon by the learned -counsel as evidence of her being accessory to the fraud. - -From the depositions of the witnesses, it then appeared that Mabel -Marryott's father had originally been a farmer in the county of -----shire; that soon after his daughter's birth he had emigrated to -Australia; that her mother had not followed her husband's fortunes; had -remained in England in the service of a family of consideration and -distinction in that above-mentioned county, where she still remained. It -appeared that the mother had little intercourse with her daughter. At an -early age, the latter had been apprenticed to the business in which she -afterwards became a partner; and then, as the phrase goes, this little -affectionate parent "washed her hands" of her concerns, and left her to -strive for herself. About ten years before, the prisoner became -acquainted, and finally engaged herself in marriage, with a young -artisan on the point of emigrating to America, a contract which proved -indeed one of those "long engagements" so often doomed to misfortune and -disappointment. They were not to be united till, by their joint -exertions, they had accumulated a sufficient sum to pay the expenses of -the voyage, and supply a capital whereupon to begin with comfort their -married life. Now, by an accident which had in a great measure disabled -the lover from pursuing his customary avocations, much of this labour of -love had been cast upon his betrothed, who, in spite of many -discouragements and disadvantages on her side, had, with never-failing -courage, persevered in her exertions, up to the time of her last -misfortune--that of having all her little possessions stolen--when she -seemed, by all accounts, at length to have been well nigh driven to -despair, for to add to this distress, her lover's unkindness--"unkindest -cut of all," began (as under the curse of absence, the most confiding -lovers are too prone to do) to doubt the alleged causes of her -protracted separation, and to write bitter upbraiding letters to that -effect. - -"We then hear," the learned gentleman proceeded, "that the prisoner -began to sink and sicken with despair; but suddenly she receives a -letter--she does not tell from whom--but saying something about an -appointment with some friend, she leaves her home, and returns in a few -days, all exulting happiness. She had received a supply of money -sufficient for her need, but is confused and mysterious when questioned -as to by whom this bounty has been bestowed. Then without further delay -she had paid off her debts, procured for herself such necessaries as -time admitted, took leave of her friends, and proceeded to Liverpool, -and was to have sailed the following morning for America. But in the -meantime the notes she had circulated had been discovered to be forged, -and a warrant dispatched for her detention; and the examination before -the magistrates eliciting nothing from her but her declaration of -innocence, and refusal to throw any light upon the facts connected with -their receival, she had been committed for trial. The notes were then -produced. They were all dated ten years back, and from the appearance of -the paper bore every mark of time and long-keeping; and one circumstance -was brought to bear most particularly against the prisoner, which was, -that the names assigned upon the bill were those of the firm of Maynard -and Co.; and the very house in which the prisoner's mother had resided -for so many years as confidential servant, was that of Mr. Trevor, of -Montrevor, who was at that time one of the partners in that extensive -concern." - -The Judge then demanded whether the prisoner's mother was not -forthcoming. His lordship was then informed that she was not, as it had -been ascertained that she was at that moment lying dangerously ill of a -mortal disease. Evidence had however been obtained, that she had not for -the last twelve years held any intercourse with her daughter. - -The Judge, though considering this point unsatisfactory, forbore further -comment, until he had heard the other side of the question, and Mr. -Seaham, counsel for the prisoner, accordingly rose up to speak. - - * * * * * - -No little sensation was created by the able defence of the young -barrister. The touching, though simple outline he first drew of the -previous history of the accused--her character and conduct, so -inconsistent with such grave delinquency as that of which she stood -suspected--which he produced many witnesses to testify; all was brought -admirably to bear upon the point. Even round the impenetrable cloud in -which her silence wrapped the affair, he cast a silvery halo, by the -manner in which he treated her conduct in this respect. The moral beauty -in which he clothed the idea--the matchless constancy of that poor -woman's mind, which few who had heard the details of her history, of her -life, could forbear to acknowledge. Who then could feel surprised if now -she stood there preferring shame, ignominy, and suspicion to the -betrayal of the being who, were it friend or relation--even stranger or -acquaintance--had come forward to assist her in her extremity, and -though but for a moment, had stood forth in the guise of benefactor, -turning her mourning into joy--throwing sunshine upon her weary path! -Who could sound the depths of gratitude when once strongly called forth -in the human heart--to what even morbid extent, as he owned it might be -deemed in the present case, might it not be carried? That the quality of -self-preservation--self-defence was greater--many in that assembly might -sneeringly assert; but for his own part--he was thankful to say such -cynical lessons had not been taught him--he did think that -gratitude--disinterested, heroic gratitude, was still a flower not yet -quite extinct in the soil of humanity; that in the words of the poet he -could assert: - - "I've heard of hearts unkind--of hearts, - Kind deeds with ill returning; - Alas! the gratitude of men - Has often left me mourning." - -But might there not be a bond stronger even than gratitude which binds -the prisoner's tongue in a matter touching so closely her personal -welfare? It was his business that day to clear his client, therefore he -must add, that very insufficient light had been obtained from a quarter -in which much more particular evidence was naturally to have been -expected. The prisoner had a mother, which circumstance had before been -mentioned, and the truth of which, (even during the brief space of time -the matter had been placed in his hands,) he made it his business to -ascertain, now lying on her death-bed. Yet how could it be clearly -ascertained that this mother has not assisted her daughter in her -distress? indeed it seems strangely unnatural that she should not have -done so throughout the long probation she had endured, and still more so -in this last emergency. Was there no question as to whether the powers -of natural affection might not restrain the selfish instinct of -self-defence? Was there any proof, though there might be no direct -knowledge, that the prisoner had not held intercourse or correspondence -with the parent? - -It had been stated, that the prisoner had never set foot in the house -where the mother had been established so many years--that she never had -received pecuniary aid from the family with whom her mother resided; yet -the notes had been proved to be exact fac-similes of those delivered by -the bank of Messrs. Maynard and Co., that firm to which the head of the -family--whom the mother served at the time of the date of these -notes--then belonged. - -Arthur Seaham, as he proceeded, could not but experience the happy -consciousness of success, could not doubt from the air of satisfied -approving attention pervading the large assembly in the midst of which -he stood, that whatever might be the verdict of the jury as regarded his -client, he was at any rate doing well for himself--that he had not -overrated his own powers and abilities; at all events he possessed one -great gift of genius, the key to the hearts of men, that he had only to -push bravely forward to win himself rank amongst an Eldon or an Erskine. -The sun shone full upon a glaring court, upon many approving, admiring, -nay, upon many tearful faces; for there were many in court who had known -young Seaham from a boy, and whose countenance held an affectionate -place in their hearts and memories; and yet, perhaps, there were but -three among them all, who made any distinct and individual impression on -his senses during the time, and these three inspiring feelings quite -distinct from any self-pride, from any ambition in his heart. - -One was the prisoner herself--that pale, patient face turned on him with -such a meek and quiet confidence, as if on him she had reposed all she -felt of trust in human power; her eyes fixed on him, her human -counsellor--but her heart resting upon another alone able to -defend--even on Him who had said: - - "I will never leave you, nor forsake you," - -and in whom, though he were to slay her, she would still surely trust. - -The other two we may easily imagine were the faces so striking in their -contrast--those two fair members of the court, who occupied convenient -places behind the judge's chair, their eyes fixed upon him; the one all -bright and beautiful in her excitement--the other becoming paler and -paler from the intense and painful interest in which something in the -case itself seemed more and more to enthral her. - - * * * * * - -At this juncture then, Arthur Seaham had arrived; he had but just said -that he had hoped for the appearance of one witness whose evidence might -have thrown some important light upon the subject, and to whom he had -made too late application, when a bustle was heard outside the court, -and murmurs arose that this very witness had just that moment arrived. - -Another instant, and Eugene Trevor made his way into the court, pale, -eager, agitated; bearing every mark of a long and hasty journey. He -approached the bench and spoke with Arthur Seaham apart, as he might -have done with any other member of the bar, professionally, as if he had -never spoken to him on such different matters, and in such a different -character as in their interview at the London Hotel. - -The young barrister returned to his seat with altered countenance, and -addressing the judge, announced that the gentleman just arrived in -court, had not come in the character of a witness; but to declare facts, -which at once cleared his client from all further imputations. Mr. -Trevor then sworn in, declared as follows: - -He had come at the dying request of the mother of the accused, to state -her confession as to having delivered the forged notes to her daughter, -that daughter she declared--having solemnly taken her oath of secresy -upon the Bible, being in entire ignorance of the real nature of the -relief bestowed upon her, or the reason for the secresy imposed. He then -produced certificates from the medical attendants as to the dying -condition of the real offender. - -To what further transpired, few, beyond those especially concerned in -the _éclaircissement_, paid any very particular attention; the general -interest being now attracted towards the ex-prisoner, who, whilst -listening with signs of strong emotion to the declaration of her -innocence, had suddenly fainted, and was carried out of the court; and -in a few minutes the hall was almost cleared. - -It was nearly an hour before Eugene Trevor was released from the -examination to which he was subjected. On leaving the court, he stopped -to make inquiries for Mabel Marryott. - -The official to whom he applied, informed him that the poor woman had -been taken into a private room, where she had soon recovered; and then, -seeming to look upon the inquirer as a privileged person, offered to -conduct him to her presence. - -Eugene did not decline the proposal, but followed the man, who soon -arrived at the apartment, the door of which he opened, looked within, -directing Eugene to enter. - -The doctor had just left his patient, and she was seated in an upright -position against a chair, still faint and pale, though restored to -consciousness, and receiving in her trembling hands the cordials -administered by an attendant, whilst Mary Seaham and Carrie Elliott, -like two ministering angels, Faith and Hope personified, hung with kind -and gentle solicitude over the poor woman's chair, encouraging her -fainting spirit with soothing and congratulatory words. - -Well might Eugene Trevor pause at the threshold, ere he dared to -introduce himself upon such a scene--into such a company. Perhaps, -indeed, he might have made his escape, had not the opening of the door -directed the looks of those within, ere he had time to depart unseen. - -He advanced accordingly, and at once approaching his foster-sister -without raising his eyes to her attendants, stooped down, and kindly, -though in a confused and embarrassed manner, inquired how she felt. - -The poor woman was much agitated by her foster-brother's appearance. She -tried to answer, but in the attempt burst into tears, which the woman -who attended her nevertheless pronounced would do her good. Then seeing -that the young ladies had already retired, Mabel Marryott signed to the -woman also to withdraw; and raising her straining eyes to Eugene's face, -gasped forth: - -"My unfortunate mother!" - -At the same time hiding her face with her hands, as if bowed down with -conscious shame and humiliation at the mention of that mother's name -before one who, she naturally supposed, regarded that mother with the -scorn and abhorrence she too well merited. - -But Eugene Trevor seemed to view her emotion in another light, and -replied to her ejaculation by confirming with as much consideration for -her feelings as the extreme case admitted, his previous information as -to her mother's dangerous condition--the crisis indeed of a very painful -malady under which she had been for some time labouring--speaking -finally of her release from suffering as an event which could only by -her friends be desired. - -"Release from suffering!" murmured the shuddering daughter in a low and -horrified tone. "God grant it; God grant that it may be so, Mr. Trevor; -but alas! my unhappy mother! has she seen a clergyman with a view to -her spiritual relief? does she show signs of repentance? can we -entertain hopes that her sins may be forgiven?" - -Then, to her companion's somewhat vague and unsatisfactory answers on -this point, she with renewed earnestness begged that she might at least -be allowed to set out immediately for Montrevor; and perhaps, by the -mercy of God, see her mother before it was too late. - -But this proposition Eugene did not encourage; he assured her that it -would be too late, that he was sorry to say there had been little chance -of Mrs. Marryott's surviving his departure many hours, that she might -rest assured that everything had been done for her mother that was right -and proper. He then advised Mabel Marryott rather to set about immediate -arrangements for her voyage to America, for which she should have every -facility. Then pressing some bank notes into her graspless hand, and -desiring her to apply to him for anything more which might be required, -he turned away as if to escape from any thanks his generosity might call -forth from those blanched and powerless lips; but rather, we imagine, -impatient to cut short so painful and disagreeable an interview; and in -another moment he stood by the side of Mary Seaham who, as we have said, -had at his entrance withdrawn with Miss Elliott to the further end of -the room. - -"Mary!" he murmured in a low voice, whilst Miss Elliott, on perceiving -his approach, flew back to Mabel Marryott. - -"Mary, will you not speak to me?" - -Mary turned towards him, and held out her hand. - -"Eugene!" she said in a low agitated voice, then paused, and fixing her -eyes on him with an earnest, wistful and distressful look; whilst on -Eugene's side might have appeared in his countenance more of -embarrassment than pleasure. - -The door opened, and voices made themselves heard without. Both looked -uneasily and uncomfortably towards it. - -"Can I not see you, and speak to you, Mary, more privately before I -leave this place? I cannot stay longer than to-day, for I am wanted at -Montrevor." - -"Yes, Eugene," Mary replied in the same low, hurried voice, yet with -more earnest anxiety of manner. "I should like very much to see you. If -you will come this evening very late, I shall be probably alone, and we -can speak together without interruption." - -He pressed her hand in sign of agreement, and hastily left the room, -exchanging a slight and hurried greeting with Arthur Seaham who passed -upon his way. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - Let after reckonings trouble fearful fools; - I'll stand the trial of these trivial crimes. - - DRYDEN. - - - The time shall come, nor long remote, when thou - Shall feel far more than thou inflictest now; - Feel for thy vile self-loving self in vain, - And turn thee howling in unpitied pain. - - BYRON. - - -To explain the chief incidents of the last chapter, it is our necessary, -though repellent task to retrograde some six months past, and enter the -gloomy mansion of Montrevor, where all that time its infirm master lay, -like a chained enchanter on his bed of sickness. - -His son had late that day left for London, amply supplied with those -funds to supply his exigencies, which he had little difficulty now in -drawing from the resources of the now powerless old dotard. - -A few hours later, when darkness had closed in, and the house was hushed -and still, a woman's form was seen issuing from the old man's chamber. - -It was Mabel Marryott. She was changed from the day we last saw her, -sailing along the passages of Montrevor. She came forward with a slow, -uncertain step, holding a shawl wrapped loosely over her breast; and the -lamp she carried in the other hand showed her countenance to bear a sick -and ghastly expression, betokening the painful disease through which she -finally perished, to have already laid its sharp fangs on her system. - -But though bodily strength might be subdued, no mental debilitation -seemed the consequence. She went straight forward to the door of her -master's library; entering without a pause of fear, or conscious -stricken awe, that gloomy haunt of many sinful and accusing memories, -she shut the door behind her, placed the lamp upon a table and sat down -to rest, her eyes wandering deliberately round the room fearing little -to encounter the spiritual shades of the past--the meek upbraiding of -one wronged being's saintly eyes--the noble scorn--the scathing -indignation of another's. She feared not yet either angel or spirit, her -day of fear was yet to come. She looked round with a keen scrutinizing -glance of survey, and then she rose and went composedly to work; she had -the field to herself, and one master-key which the old man had managed -to keep concealed even from his son, she had contrived by strict -vigilance to discover the hiding-place, and get into her possession. - -"Thou fool!" might have seemed the utterance of her heart, as with a -look of fiendish mockery she flung open the depository into which she -thus found entrance, and viewed the glittering treasures it contained. -"Thou fool! thou hast indeed many goods laid up for many years, and this -night--perhaps this night, this very night, thy dotard soul may be -required of thee." - -"Thou fool! how long hast _thou_ to live," the spirit of air might have -echoed in _her_ ear, as the woman proceeded on her work of iniquity. - -But strange the insane delusion by which each man would seem to deem -all men mortal but themselves. Even with that fatal malady gnawing on -her very vitals. Mabel Marryott trusting in an arm of flesh, confidant -in human skill, was laying in store for herself many years of -anticipatory pleasure, ease, and competence. - -With a well-filled purse of gold, she then had for the present turned -away content--gold which the old man she thought would never rise from -his bed to demand, and of which his heirs could guess only the -existence; and thus she would have departed, had not her quick eye -suddenly discovered a secret recess, which from the difficulty she had -in opening it, more keenly excited her curiosity and interest. - -By dint of much trouble and exertion the aperture finally yielded, and a -heap of papers, which had to all appearance been carelessly thrust in -together, was the issue of her research. They were bank-notes. One after -another, she read the tempting numbers--hesitated--replaced them, and -finally divided and pocketed the half. - -Two hours after this deed had been perpetrated, some one came knocking -gently at the door of Mr. Trevor's chamber, to which Mrs. Marryott had -returned to inform her that a young woman had arrived, desiring to -speak with her. Mrs. Marryott kept the person waiting some little time -for she was giving Mr. Trevor his arrow-root; but at length went down to -her sitting-room, where she found a woman of decent appearance though -poorly attired, seated patiently awaiting her coming; a dark cloak -wrapped around her, and a large bonnet and veil nearly concealing her -face. - -On perceiving Marryott she rose, and to the inquiry: "What was her -business?" the stranger put back her veil, and showing her pale and -anxious countenance, in tremulous accents murmured: "Mother!" - -Surprise was at first strongly depicted on Marryott's countenance; but -the next instant the hard impenetrable expression of her face returned, -in a cold measured tone she demanded what it might be that brought her -there? - -"Mother; have you no words of kindness to give your daughter?" faltered -the poor woman. - -"Words of kindness--pshaw! is that all you have come this long way for," -the other answered impatiently. - -"Alas! no mother," was the sorrowful reply, drooping her head -despairingly; "but if you have not even those to give me, how can I ask -for more." - -"More! ah, I thought so--I thought that pride would have a fall at last: -that you would put your virtue into your pocket, and be coming one day -crawling on your knees to beg a morsel of bread, or a hole in this -house, from the mother who was not _good_ enough for you some years ago. -So I suppose your lover won't have you now that you are old and -ugly--bah! don't think that I will take you in here; if this house was -not good enough for you _then_, it's none the better _now_. At any rate -there's no place in it for you, so you must go back from whence you -came." - -"Mother, mother--do not speak so cruelly--do not blame me, if knowing -what was good and what was evil, I could not come to live here, hearing -of you what I did. But alas! my spirit indeed waxeth faint, and my -strength faileth me. I am worn out with useless labour, and I come to -ask a little help from the mother who bore me, trusting that God will -forgive both her and me, for we have all sinned--all stand in need of -forgiveness. * * Yes, I come to ask for a little help to take me to -America--to Henry Wilson, who still waits for and expects me." - -"Oh, that's it,"--with a scornful laugh--"it's money you want; those -'wages of iniquity,' which you scorned at so finely long ago." - -"Mother--those were strong words perhaps for a daughter so young to use -towards a mother, but my heart was grieved for you; it was in sorrowful -affection, not undutiful scorn, that I thus spoke." - -Mabel Marryott sat down--she had hitherto remained coldly standing--and -signed to her daughter to do the same. The submissive manner Jane had -assumed, probably in a degree mollifying her hardened spirit; or rather -perhaps it was a sort of triumph, to see her virtuous child thus brought -low before her. She had quite lived down any womanly or maternal -feeling; and would probably, without the slightest compunction, have -turned her from the door penniless as she came: yet something--perhaps -the idea that it would be disagreeable and degrading to her high -pretensions, to have that poor, shabby creature coming begging at the -house as her daughter--made her calculate that it might be a better plan -to get rid of her at once--easily as it was in her power now to -accomplish it. Those notes still in her pocket, she had begun already to -repent not having left them in their hiding place--bank notes were -terrible things to meddle with, but at any rate no harm could come of -their being put in use by one under Jane Marryott's circumstances. - -In short, it ended as we all know by those twice guilty papers being -transferred into the hands of the innocent; and Jane Marryott--bound by -the promise of strict secrecy, which she so resolutely maintained -inviolate--left the house without any member of the household having -been made aware of her identity, with the unblessed cause of fresh -misfortune in her possession. With the unhappy sequel we are acquainted. - - * * * * * - -Six months had passed, and Mabel Marryott lay groaning on a bed of -agony. The pains of hell truly had got hold of her, and -conscience--faint foretaste of the never dying worm, rose up to torment -her "before her time," with the dark catalogue of remembered sin--sin -unrepented, and therefore unforgiven. She would not turn to the one -sure fountain, open for sin and for uncleaness. She even repulsed all -offers of spiritual ministration from those members of the household who -had thought and feeling, to see the awful nature of the dying woman's -position. - -"No, she wanted no clergymen, they could avail her nothing--could not -undo one of the sins she had committed." But at length one day, she sent -to desire Eugene Trevor would come himself and speak to her in private. -He came, and lifting herself up with difficulty in her bed, she turned -her ghastly countenance towards her foster-son as he stood by her side, -and fixing her sunken eyes upon him, addressed him thus: - -"Eugene Trevor, my daughter is to be tried this week at ---- for -forgery." - -"So I was sorry to hear, Mabel; but there seems, I think, every chance -of her being acquitted." - -"Chance--yes; but I am not going to leave it to chance, and die with -this too on my conscience. I have been a bad mother from the first, I -forsook the child at my breast for the hire of a stranger, and cast her -on the world to shift for herself in toil and trouble; and last of all, -by my stolen charity have brought this curse upon her. Yes, Eugene -Trevor," she added, emphatically, "I stole those notes from your -father's chest, and gave them to the girl--but who _forged_ them?" - -Eugene Trevor started as if an adder had stung him; and turning ashy -pale, sunk down upon a chair that stood near. - -"What--what in the name of Heaven do you mean, Marryott?" he stammered -forth. - -"Eugene Trevor, do not try to deceive a dying woman. I have confessed my -part of the business, do not deny yours. There was not much which passed -between you and your father that night ten years ago, that I did not -overhear, and which now put together, would be enough to commit -_you_--but do not fear, I am not going to betray you, only do my -bidding; go to ---- and get that girl free--it matters little to me, who -shall be dead perhaps, before the morning, what I'm thought of; go and -tell them that _I_ gave the notes, and that _she_ was ignorant of this -falsity--go, get her off, and come back and tell me she is free, and I -die silent; if not, as sure as I lie here a dying woman, I send for a -magistrate and tell him all." - -Eugene Trevor's discomfiture and perturbation at this disclosure may be -imagined. He had been surprised at the time of her apprehension, to see -the account of Jane Marryott's examination in the papers, but Mabel had -professed such perfect ignorance on the subject--such careless -indifference concerning the trouble of her daughter, that though the -coincidence of the notes might strike him as singular, it scarcely -occurred to him as possible that those half-forgotten instruments of his -youthful crime, which he had not for a moment doubted his father -immediately destroyed, could possibly have fallen into the prisoner's -hands. - -There was nothing to be done but to obey his accuser's wishes, knowing -well the determined spirit of that fearful woman, so that there would be -no other way of preventing her, even with her dying lips, declaring the -part he had in the dark transaction in question. He therefore took all -necessary precautions and started on his critical commission with as -little delay as possible, receiving before his departure, the formal -summons from Arthur Seaham to attend as witness on the trial. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - Ah, Zelica! there was a time, when bliss - Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his; - When but to see him, hear him breathe the air - In which he dwelt was thy soul's fondest prayer; - When round him hung such a perpetual spell, - Whate'er he did, none ever did so well. - Too happy days! when, if he touch'd a flower - Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour. - - LALLA ROOKH. - - -Mary Seaham sat alone that same evening by the hotel room fire, -expecting Eugene Trevor. - -She had told him to come late, because by that time, she knew that her -brother, with Judge Elliott's party, would have gone to the county ball -held that night in the town; and that the important interview with him, -who still deemed himself her lover, might take place without -interruption. - -Mary had not told her brother of the appointment she had made; so -fearful was she that any obstacle should occur to impede or prevent the -anxious purpose she had formed. Yet now that the carriage containing -Arthur, the radiant Carrie, and their chaperon had driven from the door, -and she knew that Eugene at any moment, might be announced, her heart -began to fail her, and she almost repented of what she had undertaken. -What was she going to do or say--what part pursue? - -A dark and bewildered maze seemed to lie before her, and she sat there, -pale and trembling at every sound, something grasped convulsively in her -hand, her eyes fixed with a dark and anxious gaze upon the flickering -fire-flame. - -Times indeed were changed, since in serene and quiet happiness, Mary had -so often waited at Silverton for her lover's approach. No one could have -imaged forth an intended love-tryste from her aspect now. Yet the -critical moment came. Eugene entered--the door closed behind him, and -once more they were alone together. Mary having resumed her seat, with -blanched lips and beating heart--he standing on the hearth-rug looking -down upon her like as he had done on that memorable occasion of the -first declaration of his love--that beginning of so much happiness--but -greater misery to Mary. Alas! was this to be its end? - -He began to speak hurriedly of the length of time since they had met, of -the strange circumstances of their _rencontre_ that day; Mary listening -as to a voice speaking in a dream, and assenting mechanically, till -finally, as he alluded more particularly to the circumstances of the -case, mentioning the name of Mabel Marryott and the astounding facts -which had transpired concerning that old--he had almost said _faithful_ -but he substituted long-established servant of the family. Then the pure -blood mounted for a moment to Mary's brow, leaving something like a -stern and calm resolution on her countenance; whilst to Eugene Trevor's -somewhat complacent communication, as to what he had done for the -daughter, the measures he had taken to secure her from further trouble -and delay in the accomplishment of her emigration, she listened grave -and unmoved, as if she deemed his proceedings in this respect had been -but what was strictly due to the innocent sufferer of so much iniquity. - -Yes, darker and darker seemed to grow the picture before Mary's eyes -that house and home presented, of which she had once contemplated with -such innocent satisfaction and happy anticipation becoming the mistress. -Sin after sin, more or less strange and terrible to her startled spirit, -rose up to scare and to repel her; so much so, that to think that one to -whom she had been devoted, should have amalgamated himself even in a -passive character with the influence of such a foul and infected -atmosphere, was horrible to her feelings, and most 'blessed' indeed in -comparison--'when men shall revile you and cast you out of their -company'--appeared to her the persecuted in such a case. - -Was it that some outward manifestation of these inward impressions -revealed themselves upon her countenance, that Eugene regarded her with -that keen and scrutinizing expression, as for a moment her eyes were, -with a careworn abstracted look, cast downwards upon the ground. - -"Now, Mary, let me hear something of yourself," he suddenly exclaimed, -breaking off his former topic of discourse; "what have you been doing -since I saw you last?" - -Mary did not return the question; she did not ask "What have _you_ been -doing?" but as she looked up into her lover's face, what was it that -made it impossible to return the smile, the glance, with which he -awaited the reply? What was it that made her turn away her eyes with a -pang--almost a shudder at her heart? Alas! what new impression did she -receive from looking on that face, which had been to her the beloved -dream, the haunting vision of her youth. - -Was it come to this. Had absence changed her heart? Had it become -strange, untrue, towards her early love? Did she turn her eyes away from -her lover's face because his cheek was haggard, his brow sunken, and his -eye lost the brightness of those days when - - "The sunshine of her life was in those eyes." - -Ah, no! she felt that this was not the case. Had she but read signs of -grief, of sickness, written there, and her heart would have gone forth -to soothe and sympathize with all the truth and fervour of the past. - -But no, it was none of these which had laid their signet there. Alas for -her enlightened eyes! she felt it was not sorrow--not sickness--but -sin; that no cloud had settled on his brow which she could have dared -the fond attempt to pierce; and agony to think that it should have come -to this; that she should be seated at his side, and feel it were not -possible that she could lay her weary head upon that lover's arm, place -her hand in his, with the love and confidence with which she had even -yearned towards another. - -But this had been the vague and passing reflection of a second. With -scarcely perceptible pause she had softly replied: - -"I have done little, Eugene, which would count for much in your varied -and busy existence. The most important feature in my own consideration -has been an excursion to Italy, which I took last summer with my -brother." - -Mary's voice trembled nervously as she uttered these last words, for she -felt that now had come an opportunity she must not neglect, for leading -on to the critical subject on which she had to speak: and, as if to -support her desperate purpose, unclasped the little trinket-case she had -all this time still held concealed in the palm of her delicate hand. - -"To Italy! oh, indeed;" was Eugene's reply. "I was very nearly going -there at the same time; it was just a chance that I did not. My father's -illness, a constant tie upon my movements, prevented me at the last -moment; how delightful it would have been if we had met." - -Mary made no reply, but looked down still with that peculiar expression -which could not but strike Eugene as ominous of something of an -important and peculiar nature. - -"And you were charmed, I suppose;" he proceeded, perusing her -countenance with increasing interest and attention; "so much so that I -fear you would scarcely have considered my society as an addition to -your enjoyment; you have learnt to live too well without me, I am -afraid, Mary." - -That low and flattering tone of other days thrilled Mary's heart, and -flushed her cheek with emotions as of old; but gently removing the hand -which for an instant she passively yielded to his pressure, she did not -raise her eyes as once she would have done, in tender rebuke at the -unjust assumption--she did not say how wearisome and dark had life -become without him--how void, wasted and incomplete!--but hurriedly, as -if she feared the working of the olden spell, and the consequent melting -away of her sterner resolution, she started forward upon the anxious -theme weighing on her heart. - -"I met with a strange adventure at Tivoli, Eugene; it was about that I -wished most particularly to speak to you. One morning, as I was walking -out early, I found this ring upon the ground;" and as she spoke she -produced the signet from the case, and held it towards him. "You may -imagine how surprised I was to see your initials, and your crest; I -scarcely knew indeed what to think, till walking on a little further I -overtook--Mr. Temple!" - -Her listener, who had at first taken the ring wonderingly from her hand; -as she proceeded, raised it to the light, and then abruptly, as if for -the purpose of closer examination, he started up and approached the -candle. - -He uttered not a word, but had his face not been turned away, it might -have been seen to have changed to an ashy hue. - -"I was surprised," Mary proceeded, "for though the initials were thus -accounted for, the crest being yours seemed too unlikely a coincidence; -indeed I had previously cherished a vague but wild idea that it might -possibly belong to your brother, and that his long-wished for recovery -was at hand." - -She paused, but no comment on her words, no reply, but an almost -fiercely impatient interrogative: "Well?" as he turned his countenance, -but not his eyes, round upon her, proceeded from his lips. - -"Well, you see I was disappointed," her mild voice resumed more firmly, -now that she had launched upon the critical theme beyond recall. "At -least," she added, with a wistful earnest glance, "I found, as I said -before, that it had been dropped by Mr. Temple. Oh, Eugene! how came it -in his possession--that ring, that impression which I remember to have -seen upon a letter--that fatal letter which seemed to have been the -beginning of so much sorrow and annoyance. Oh! what is this mysterious -connection subsisting between you and Mr. Temple? tell me--tell me -truly--faithfully--what is it that makes this signet with your arms, -your crest, his also?" - -Eugene Trevor burst into a forced and insulting laugh. - -"Good Heavens, Mary! why not ask that question of Temple himself? how in -the world am I to tell whether it might have been begged, borrowed, or -stolen by the clerical impostor? Stolen most likely--as I can pretty -plainly perceive," fixing on her face a keen and cynical look of -scrutiny; "he has managed to steal something else besides. Yes," he -continued, "I begin to understand now the secret of the cold looks and -measured words with which, after so long a separation, I am received by -you, Mary. I see what this excursion to Italy has done for me. It is _I_ -who ought to ask questions, I think. You saw a great deal of Temple, I -conclude, after the first adventure?" - -Though Eugene endeavoured to assume a tone of irritated suspicion -natural to a man whose jealousy was not unreasonably awakened, there was -a look of dark and eager anxiety in his countenance which could not be -concealed. - -"Yes," Mary continued in a tolerably firm voice, though she had turned a -little pale at her lover's implied accusation, "circumstances certainly -did throw us together--circumstances neither of his seeking or my own." - -A fierce fiery expression shot from Eugene's eye. - -"Oh, they did!" he exclaimed, taking refuge in the passionate burst of -rage in which his feelings found vent. "I thought so; and this is his -most honourable, most virtuous mode of proceeding, insinuating himself -into your society, inveigling your affections by his heroic sanctity, -and poisoning your ear by base and interested insinuations against -myself--if he wishes to circulate his malicious lies, why not speak them -out plainly like a man--not send you to attack me in this manner with -that accursed ring?" dashing the signet forcibly to the ground. - -"Eugene!" interposed Mary, "these reflections on the most honourable and -upright of men are unfounded and unjust. There was nothing in the nature -of our intercourse with which the most jealous could find fault. He, Mr. -Temple, was in a manner forced into joining my brother and myself during -a short excursion, by an old friend, Mr. Wynne, with whom he was -travelling, and at last parted from us abruptly. As to the rest it is I -alone on whom your displeasure need fall; it was by my anxious -importunity alone--which he tried in vain to evade--that I drew from him -all that I learnt on a subject on which it has become necessary to the -peace and quiet of my spirit, that I should be more clearly enlightened. -He told me that his lips were sealed upon the points on which I -questioned him; but that some mystery does exist--some mystery -respecting your brother, Eugene, some mystery in which you yourself, and -indeed he Mr. Temple, are strangely, closely confused--is most certain. -And then he gave me back that ring, and referred me to you for a true -and faithful relation of all I so anxiously desired to ascertain; or for -your sake, as well as my own, to bid you farewell for ever. Oh, Eugene! -disperse then, I implore you, this dark, bewildering cloud, for I -cannot, cannot walk on any more groping in this darkness. Think of me -what you please--wrong my motives if you will, but only show me the -truth whatever it may be; or, Eugene," she added, faintly, her voice -melted into a tone of mingled compassion and concern, "I must indeed put -an end at once to my ceaseless perplexity, by bidding you farewell for -ever." - -Eugene Trevor was calm now, though still livid with the passion into -which he had excited himself. He sat down, close to Mary's side, and -there was a dogged air of resolution expressed in his countenance. - -"I am willing to tell anything that you may wish to ask," he said -sarcastically, "to tear off any part of this delightful veil of mystery -in which you have been pleased to invest my deeds and actions, for the -benefit of your romantic imagination. So pray begin your catechism." - -"Your brother?" was the faint and faltering interrogatory, which came -from Mary's lips. - -Eugene Trevor's assumed calmness vanished; he started up, and approached -the fire-place, murmuring hoarsely: - -"Well, what of him?" - -"Where is he? Who is he? How is it that he does not return or appear in -England--in the world? What has he to do with Mr. Temple? For that some -mysterious link does exist between those two; I have for sometime had -suspicions which I can no longer quell, or put aside as imaginary and -vain--by night as well as by day I have been haunted by wild, strange -dreams that Mr. Temple and your brother are the same." - -She paused aghast, for she had risen and approached Eugene in her -excitement, and now stood gazing as Adah might have gazed upon the face -of her husband Cain, when for the first time his countenance was -revealed to her in all its undisguised hatred and wrathfulness of -expression. - -"Eugene!" she murmured, her voice melting into a tone of mingled -surprize, compassion and concern. "Eugene!" and she laid her hand -soothingly on his arm. - -He turned his eyes, flashing defiance upon her. - -"Well," he cried, "and if they were, pray, what of that?" - -"If--if" she cried, returning his gaze unshrinkingly, "then--then your -brother, Eugene, should not _now_--never should have been a banished -exile from his home and heritage. They have wronged him basely, who -ever, on the plea of madness, deprived such a man of honour, hope and -happiness. Farewell indeed, Eugene, if this _could_ be the case. -Farewell, at least, till you have repaired your grievous error, and -restored Eustace Trevor to all which has been wrongfully, deceitfully -taken from him." - -She turned away, but Eugene Trevor seized her hand. - -"Stop, Mary," he said in a low voice of subdued and concentrated rage. -"Stop, if you please, and hear _me_. You may remember, you said, a -little time ago, farewell, _if_ I did not reveal to you all you desired -to know. I have told you nothing yet, though you seem indeed too ready -to conclude every thing of the blackest and most preposterous -description against me. But although you are so eager for any excuse to -rid yourself of me, for ever; though the heart you once swore would -scarcely have been torn from me, were I proved to be the greatest -villain upon earth, has shown itself a very woman's in its weakness, its -feebleness, its inconstancy. Yes, Mary, villain as you may wish to -consider me, _I_ preserve at least the virtue of _constancy_. I love you -as much as ever, Mary. I will not give you up. What," he exclaimed, -fixing his eyes upon her pale and startled countenance, and advancing -towards her as she sunk down upon a sofa, "do you own yourself, false -and faithless, enough to wish that I should do so? Do you now love this -Eustace, this Temple, whatever he may please to call himself?" - -"Eugene!" gasped Mary's blanched lips. - -"Answer me, Mary, or rather prove it. I see indeed that our marriage has -been deferred too long; promise me, _swear_, that it shall take place -secretly; there is nothing now that should impede it. I can manage my -father now, that that woman will be out of the way. You know, Mary--you -cannot wonder that I should have considered her presence as an objection -to your entrance into my father's house; the obstacle will now be -removed." - -But Mary shrank back with shuddering repugnance at the suggestion thus -presented to her delicate imagination. _She_ invited to take the place -of Mabel Marryott--_she_ to have room made for her within her lover's -home, by the removal of such a being. - -"Mary, you are not--you cannot own yourself so faithless and so false as -to love that other man." - -"No--Eugene--no. What right have you to entertain such a suspicion? but -you--you have not told me what I required." - -"But I _will_ tell you, Mary--I will tell you everything. I will -redeem--I will atone for all that I may have done--I will lay my fate in -your hands--I will yield my future conduct, my every action, to your -guidance and direction. As your husband, I shall be content to give up -all, whatsoever your wishes may cost me. But I will wait no longer; say -you will be my wife, Mary: and I swear to fulfil whatever you may impose -upon me." - -He had passed his arm with a kind of reckless excitement round her -waist, and now held her tightly towards him, so that her heart beat -wildly against his own, though she shrank trembling from the close -embrace, and still he repeated, with a voice which sounded to her ear -more like hatred than affection: - -"Say--promise me, you will marry me in a week, Mary, publicly or in -secret, as you will; you are your own mistress, no one can prevent you. -Speak, say that one word, Mary, and you shall hear everything as truly -as if I stood before the judgment-seat of God." - -But Mary's lips could not utter a reply, her breath seemed choked, a -mist was before her eyes, though the once most beloved face on earth -was bending down upon her, so near that his very breath fanned her -cheek. She saw it, but as in a frightful dream changed into the face of -a demon, and she felt that breath to be upon her brow like a burning and -a blighting flame. Yet in the strange terror, the perplexity of feeling -which had come over her, a kind of fascination, which something in that -dark, lurid glance fixed so steadfastly upon her, seemed to enthral her -senses. She might perhaps, had it been possible, have forced her lips to -give the required promise. But though they moved, they uttered no sound. -She grew paler and paler, more and more heavily she pressed against the -retaining arm which encircled her, till finally her head lay back on the -cushion of the couch; and Eugene Trevor started at perceiving her closed -eyes and ghastly countenance, released her from his hold, for she had -fainted! - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - For thee I panted, thee I prized, - For thee I gladly sacrificed - Whate'er I loved before; - And shall I see thee start away, - And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say-- - Farewell! we meet no more. - - COWPER. - - -Eugene Trevor's first impulse was to step back shocked and amazed; but -the first paroxism of passion into which he had worked himself, in a -degree cooled by this unlooked for catastrophe, he felt that he had -acted in a weak and unreasonable manner. - -Yes, to say that he stood there, looking on that good and gentle being, -whose pitiful condition only showed the climax to which he had -distressed and unnerved her guileless spirit, by the course of conduct -he had so unjustifiably pursued--the peace and happiness of whose life -he had so selfishly blighted. - -That he had looked on her thus, and thought chiefly of himself, was but -too true a proof of the purity and genuineness of the feelings, which -had prompted him to press upon her their union in so urgent and -unjustifiable a manner. - -Yes--dark and perplexing considerations as to the position of his own -affairs came crowding upon his mind. Mary's suspicions, nay, even -amounting to certainty, as to his brother's identity, he had himself -recklessly confirmed; but that mattered little, for suspicion once -awakened on the subject, the truth in any case, must sooner or later -have transpired. - -No, he should have long ago have broken off with Mary, as his brother -had required; that would have been the only means of keeping that mad -enthusiast quiet till his father's death, and his own affairs -satisfactorily settled. What infatuation had kept him hankering after -that "mess of pottage," which after all, he felt had become far less -valuable to him, than all that had been risked through its cause. He had -been in love with Mary Seaham three years ago; then he was really and -truly in love--in love with her sweet youth--her gentle excellence; and -could he then have made her his wife without the trouble and annoyance -to which the engagement had since subjected him, he had little doubt -that the step would have been for his happiness and benefit; but as it -had turned out, he should have long since have given up the inauspicious -business--the strength and purity of his affection had not been such as -could stand the test of their protracted separation. The crystal stream -would soon have palled upon his vitiated taste, had it not been for the -excitement of opposition, and the triumph over his brother it procured -him. - -Added to this, we must in justice say, there had ever remained in -Eugene's heart at all times--and under every circumstance, a sort of -fascinated feeling towards Mary which had never been wholly -extinguished--an influence over his nature wonderful even to himself. -But this was nothing to the disquieting fears which now assailed him for -the future; he could not well see his way before him, and -impatiently--with feelings in which every bad passion was combined, he -turned away from the poor girl, who lay there so wan and faded before -him; in this moment of excitement, considering her but as the source of -the disturbance and perplexity, in which through her, he had involved -himself. With but one more glance, therefore, at the pale, prostrate -form, he rang the bell with careless violence; and leaving the room, -contented himself with desiring the servant whom he met hurrying to obey -the summons, to send Miss Seaham's maid to her, and hastily quitted the -house. - -In no happy mood of mind, Eugene Trevor regained his own hotel, and -having made inquiries as to conveyances, started by the night mail from -----, and reached Montrevor the following afternoon. - -His first inquiry was for Marryott. He was told that she had expired -soon after his departure. "Had any one been with her?" he asked. - -"No one; they had supposed her to be asleep for some hours; but at -length she had been found by the housemaid who took up her gruel, stiff -and cold." - -Yes--the sin of that hardened and unrighteous woman had surely found her -out. The curse breathed from the pale, meek features of the corpse of -her, whose angel heart she had crushed and broken--whose death she had -rendered lone and desolate as her life, had come back "on her bosom -with reflected blight," she too had breathed forth her expiring sigh in -agony unrelieved. - -But who wept over her remains--who cared for, who mourned her death? not -one within that mansion. Old Mr. Trevor heard of the event, with the -satisfaction of a child released from the dominion of a harsh attendant, -and took advantage of his disenthralment to creep from his chamber to -his study, to enjoy the long restricted luxury of gloating over his -beloved treasures; and from whence, overcome by that unwonted exertion, -he had but just been carried back to his chamber by his servant, who had -discovered him thus employed, when his son arrived. - -Eugene's first act was to order the property of Marryott to be submitted -to his inspection, and he had but just satisfied himself of there being -no more forged notes in her possession, when the officers of the crown -employed to make inquiries into the business, arrived at Montrevor. - -Their examination of the deceased's effects proved, of course, equally -unproductive, as was every inquiry which was afterwards made. A few -questions put to the bewildered Mr. Trevor, to whose presence Eugene -tremblingly admitted the officials, showed him incompetent to give any -available evidence. Their warrant went no further. - -With the death of the self-accused offender, ended every possibility of -further enlightenment. She had gone to give an account of her actions to -a Judge from before whom all hearts are open and no secrets are hid; and -who require no human testimony to decide His just and terrible judgment. - -They departed, and Eugene breathed more freely, though far was the -removal of this one weight of anxiety from leaving peace and comfort at -his heart. The gloom and darkness which brooded over the house of sin -and death, lay with a leaden weight upon his soul. For the first time he -seemed to be sensible of the foulness of the atmosphere in which for -years he had breathed so contentedly--the dark maze in which he had -entangled himself. Perhaps it was the influence of _her_ presence, which -even still, as it had ever done, exercised a power over his feelings--a -wish, a transitory yearning for better, purer things; for happiness such -as he had never tasted in his world of sensuality. - -From whatever it might have arisen, certainly his was no enviable frame -of mind, and in the perplexity of the moment he was almost prompted to -relax his immediate hold of all his anxious schemes and purposes; put -his father under proper guardianship, and leaving the house, the -country, for a time, abandon the issue to the future--to fate. If the -old man died soon, well and good; he knew his present will would secure -him the bulk of his large and long accumulated unentailed property. If -he lingered on for years, why even then, he little feared his brother -taking advantage of his absence. No, not his brother perhaps, but his -friends. Might they not rise up in Eustace Trevor's behalf; and the old -man become, as in his present state he was likely to do, a ready tool in -their hands, to effect his ruin--for ruin to him any alteration in that -will must prove--that will made under his own auspices; at the same time -that the deed was executed, which in favour of his brother's alleged -incompetency, put all power into his hands, with regard to the -management of the entailed property. - -No, he must retain his post even to the death, and above all he must -gain assurance as to the security of the deed, on which so much -depended, and which it had been necessary to humour the old man, at the -time, in the whim of keeping secreted in his own possession, without the -farther security of a copy--a legal expense against which, he had -strongly protested. There was another point too on which he was still -painfully anxious. Were the remainder of those forged notes, which his -father had evidently neglected to destroy, still in existence, and in -the same place from which the rest had been extracted? - -With these thoughts on his mind, Eugene went to his father, and with the -usual address of which he was full master, broke to him the nature and -the cause of the intrusion with which he had that day been terrified and -annoyed--in short the whole history of Marryott's share in the forgery -case, the origin of which he recalled to his darkened recollection. - -The old man was confounded and dismayed--his old panic as regarded his -son's youthful delinquency reviving in full force. He, however, held out -still, that the notes had been destroyed, and that Marryott must have -been a witch to have restored them to existence. - -Eugene combated the folly of this idea, at the same time impressing upon -him the necessity of ascertaining the better security of any papers of -importance, than Marryott's abstraction of the forged notes, proved them -to be in at the present moment. - -For that purpose he conducted the miserable old man to his study, or -rather private room; and with great difficulty induced him to go through -an examination under his inspection of all places he thought it likely, -the will and the remainder of the notes might be secreted. - -But the old man's cunning avarice was a match for the younger one's -cupidity. - -He had his own peculiar feelings with respect to the will. A jealous -tenacity in preserving to the last his power over the disposal of his -riches, however other powers might have departed from him, and as to -giving up his will to Eugene, that he would never do. He knew where it -lay snug and secret, and if Eugene treated him ill, and stole the money -over which even now his eyes gloated, and his hands passed so -graspingly, he knew what he could do, and as for the notes, he had in -truth forgotten that secret hiding-place. - -So the search ended for that day without the desired results, for the -old man grew faint and feeble, and said he could do no more that time, -but would continue the search on the morrow, so, content for the -present, his son supported him back to his chamber. He did not leave his -bed for the following week, before the end of which period Mabel -Marryott was carried out to be buried. And there she lies--the same sun -which shines upon the evil and the good, gleams upon the decent stone -which perpetuates the dishonoured memory of the wicked--as upon the tomb -of mocking grandeur, in which the weary had found rest--that rest "which -remaineth for the people of God." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - Desolate in each place of trust, - Thy bright soul dimmed with care, - To the land where is found no trace of dust. - Oh! look thou there. - - -The servant had either not understood, or had neglected the orders of -Eugene Trevor. Her own faithful attendant had not accompanied Mary, and -Miss Elliott's maid, who waited upon her, had gone to the hall to be in -attendance in the cloak-room upon her young lady. So that when the poor -girl recovered from her temporary insensibility, she found herself quite -alone, and nearly in darkness with but a dim and bewildered recollection -of what had occurred, the sense of physical indisposition preponderating -at the moment. She feebly arose, and managed to drag her chilled and -heavy limbs to her own room. - -In the morning she awoke restored to a full consciousness of the reality -of the last night's events; very dark appeared to her the world on which -she opened now her eyes; a vague sense of misery oppressed her--a -feeling as if the end of all things was come--that the truth, light and -beauty of existence had passed from her for ever--that her life had been -thrown away--the best powers of her mind--the affections of her heart -wasted on an object suddenly stripped of every false attribute which she -had so ignorantly worshipped. - -She did not feel inclined, as may be supposed, to face the glare and -bustle of the court, and under plea of a headache excused herself from -accompanying Miss Elliott and her brother, who, having been obliged to -be in attendance at an early hour, had only exchanged a few words with -his sister at her room-door previous to his departure. - -Mary would, therefore, have been left alone all the morning had it not -been for a visit from Jane Marryott, who came to say farewell; and to -express her grateful thanks, both for the aid she had received from her -legal advocate and the kindness shown to her by the young ladies after -the trial. - -Mary received her with much kindness, and encouraged her by the sweet -sympathy of her manner, to relate "the tale of her love with all its -pains and reverses." There was something in the subdued and chastened -tone of the poor woman's happiness, as soothing to Mary's own troubled -heart, as her meek and patient demeanour during her affliction had been -touching; and as to look upon the "grief so lonely" of her upon whose -patient countenance, she had read a tale of baffled hopes, and -disappointed affection, which had made her think with tears upon her -own; so now she did not feel it impossible to accede a smile of -melancholy rejoicing in her pious joy, though no answering chord -vibrated in her own sorrowful bosom--and she felt that the sea of -trouble, and the ocean wide, which had hitherto disunited Jane Marryott -from her affianced lover, was nothing to the deep gulf which must, from -henceforth, roll between her soul and his, whom she had so long looked -upon in that light. - -But the faint mournful smile did not perhaps escape the observation of -her humble visitor, or fail to touch the scarce less delicate sympathies -of one doubly refined in the furnace of affliction. Jane Marryott could -not repress a glance of anxious interest on the pale young lady's face, -as at the close of her own recital, she respectfully proceeded to -express her wishes for the health and happiness of her brother and -herself. - -She had heard, she continued timidly to say, that Mr. Eugene Trevor was -the favoured gentleman who was to make Miss Seaham his wife--then -paused, humbly apologising if she had offended by her boldness, for she -marked the momentary spasm of painful emotion which passed over Mary's -countenance. - -She would not have ventured to speak on the subject she added, had it -not been for the interest, painful though it had become in its -character, which bound her to that family. Mr. Eugene Trevor being as -Miss Seaham probably was aware, her foster-brother. - -Mary bent her head in sign of acquiescence, and then murmuring that Jane -Marryott had not offended, enquired in a low and faltering voice if she -had been thrown much in contact with the Trevor family of late years, -that if so, she would be much obliged by any particulars respecting it: -she need not fear to speak freely on a subject which indeed was one of -such peculiar interest to herself, though not now in the manner to which -Jane had made allusion. She had indeed been long engaged to Mr. Eugene -Trevor, but----. Mary felt not strength to complete the communication; -her voice died away, leaving her listener to frame her own conclusions -from the dejected pause and broken sentence. - -"I would do anything to oblige or serve you, dear young lady, though -there is little on the subject of that family which can be connected in -my mind but with shame and sorrow. However, with the exception of one -unhappy visit of mine to Montrevor last year, I have not entered the -house, or lived in its neighbourhood, since I was quite a young child; -then I remember just having been taken there once or twice to see my -mother, and being allowed to play with little Master Eugene, and most -distinctly of all going with him into the room where was Mrs. -Trevor--such a sweet and gentle looking lady--who spoke very kindly to -me; and there too was Master Eustace, a beautiful boy, who seemed very -fond of his mother, whilst Master Eugene would not do a thing that he -was bid--he was but a child then you know," she added apologetically, -"and they say was never taught much to love and honour that parent, by -those who took him as an infant from her breast. Alas! that I, my -mother's own child, should have to say it--but such visits were not -many; my mother did not care for me enough to run the risk of offending -her master by having me about the place. He hated strange children in -the house, and when I was taken there it was by stealth. So at a very -early age I was sent away to some distant relations in Wales, who -apprenticed me to the trade, and all I have since heard of the family -has been by hearsay; for there was nothing of all that reached my ear, -which made Montrevor a place I could have visited with any comfort or -pleasure. - -"My mother, when I had grown up, offered me a situation in the -establishment, and because I refused to accept it, speaking my mind -perhaps too freely, she never afterwards noticed me in any way, -withdrawing all support in my necessity; till the unlucky hour, I was -induced to give up that patient waiting on God's own time I had -hitherto maintained, and turned aside to seek to bring it to pass by -ways and means that were not of his pointing out. I might have seen that -no good could have come out of gold taken from that house, no blessing -be attached to bounty drawn from such a polluted source. God has been -very merciful, and made all things to work together for my good; but -still even now I rejoice with trembling, and were he again to withdraw -his favour--I should only feel that it were due to my past -unfaithfulness. Oh, dear young lady! it is a good thing to wait -patiently on the Lord, to believe that good is hid behind every cloud of -seeming evil; that grief or disappointment, if dealt us, is intended for -our future happiness either here or hereafter. May you find this to be -the case, and feel it also to your comfort, if I am right in guessing -from your countenance that you stand in need of consolation. I am very -bold, a humble stranger to speak thus to you, young lady--but you have -encouraged me by your kindness and condescension, and we are told never -to neglect, to speak a word in season to the weary, and even when you -hung over me in my fainting fit yesterday, I marked the contrast between -your sad pale face, and that of the bright young lady by your side." - -Mary put her hand into the speaker's for a moment as if both in grateful -acknowledgement of her sympathy, and as encouragement for her to -proceed. There was something inexpressibly soothing to her wounded -spirit in the simple earnestness of the poor woman's speech--strength -and calm resolution to meet the darkened future, seemed to infuse itself -into her own soul as she sat and listened. - -At length in a low sad voice she responded: - -"Thank you very much for speaking to me in that manner. I feel already -that it has done me good, for you are indeed quite right in supposing -that I am not quite happy, though my present unhappiness springs from a -cause of which you, with all your troubles, have never, I think, -experienced the bitterness. I have much on my mind just now, doubts and -fears on a subject, on which I am unable to gain any clear -enlightenment. You, who perhaps have received information from more -authentic sources, may be able to tell me what you may have heard -concerning Mr. Eugene Trevor." - -Jane Marryott looked pained and embarrassed, and hesitated how to reply. - -"Do not fear to speak out plainly," faltered Mary, turning away her -head; "anything is better than the uncertainty and vague insinuations -with which I have been hitherto tortured." - -"Then, Miss Seaham," Jane Marryott answered, sorrowfully, "if I speak -plainly as you desire, I am forced to confess that all that I have heard -of Mr. Eugene Trevor, makes me fear his being too like his father in -disposition to make any lady happy." - -"Mr. Eugene Trevor cannot possibly be like his father," murmured Mary, -her woman's faithfulness still rising up in her lover's defence. - -"God grant that it may not be so in every respect," resumed the other. -"But, alas! it is written 'that the love of money is the root of all -evil;' and what but the coveting of his father's riches, though it might -be for a different purpose than the old gentleman's avariciousness--I -mean the spending it on his own selfish pleasures--could have made him -act in many respects as I have heard that he has done; though God -forgive me for exposing the faults of a fellow-creature." - -"Speak on, I entreat," Mary anxiously exclaimed. - -"Well, Miss, I mean why did he not stand up, like his brother, for his -injured, excellent mother; and if he did not exactly join hand in hand -with those who oppressed her, why countenance her wrongs by their -contented endurance? then about Mr. Eustace that true and noble-hearted -gentleman?" - -"Ah! what of him?" Mary eagerly inquired, lifting up her sadly-drooping -eyes, and fixing them upon Jane Marryott's face with an earnest, fearful -expression. - -"He was treated shamefully by his father from a child," was the reply; -"but I fear more badly still at last by his brother, if, indeed, it be -true that he had any hand in the dark business, in which I am told he -was mixed up." - -"What business?" inquired Mary, turning very pale. - -"It is almost too dreadful a story to repeat--almost to believe; but as -I have mentioned the subject, and you, Madam, have made me to understand -that you were not without unpleasant suspicions as to its truth, I will -tell you what I was informed about the matter. The fact is, that an old -servant at Montrevor, who had been much attached to Mrs. Trevor and Mr. -Eustace, and who happened to be a native of the town in which I lived, -came to the place, and finding me out, visited me for the purpose, I -believe, of venting the bitterness of his soul against my unfortunate -mother, who he spoke of as the cause of all the sorrow which happened to -those he loved; but when he saw me ashamed and grieved equally with -himself, then he opened his heart more gently to me, and told me all -about the present subject of his distress, and what had induced him to -leave Montrevor, swearing never again to set his foot in it, as long as -either Mr. Trevor, his son Eugene, or my mother, darkened its doors. He -told me Mr. Eustace Trevor had been attacked by a brain fever, brought -on by the shock of his mother's death, such as he had had once before -after hard study, when Matthew had himself attended on his young master, -who was delirious for some days and nights; but that this last time, -neither he, nor any of the servants, were allowed to go near his -chamber; and that at last he had been carried away at night to a -madhouse, it being reported through the house that he was out of his -mind. Matthew went once or twice to the door of the establishment, to -request to see his master, but was refused admittance. A week or two -after, however, Mr. Eustace came back to Montrevor, and went to the -library, where his father, brother, my mother, and a lawyer were -assembled, making up papers to deprive him of his property. None of the -servants saw him but Matthew, who was told to hold himself in readiness -to assist his master, if any attempt was made upon his liberty. This, -however, was not the case; he left the house as he came, in half an -hour's time. Matthew followed him, and was sent back a few stages off, -to bring his master's things away from Montrevor, chiefly for the sake -of his mother's picture, which was amongst them. Then he gave Matthew -some money, and finally but firmly commanded him to leave him. He said -that he was going to quit the country, never to return; wished to retain -no one, as that might lead to his discovery, entreating him, if he -really loved him, to acquiesce in his wishes. He looked ill, and much -reduced, of course, by all that he had gone through, both in body and -mind. His beautiful hair had been shorn, and with a smile that went -through Matthew's heart like a dagger, he uncovered his wrists, and -showed deep marks of manacles that they had put upon him indented there. -But he said: 'Matthew, I was never mad; it was only another attack, such -as you, good old fellow, nursed me through some time ago; but never -mind, there are worse things than the charge of madness to suffer in -this world. I am going to leave the country, and my unnatural enemies -behind me; and if you wish to serve me faithfully, as you hitherto have -done, do not try to follow me or to find me out.' And then when Matthew -continued to entreat, he grew firmer still, and told him if ever he -found himself importuned by pursuit, either by friend or by foe, or the -story of what had happened had got spread abroad, he should suspect him -of being the cause. So Matthew was fain, with many tears, to bid him -farewell; and very soon after it was that Matthew came to me. But I have -shocked and distressed you, dear young lady," Jane Marryott added, -observing the look of horror which deepened on Mary's countenance, as -she with blanched cheeks and distended eyes listened to the recital. "I -have never breathed all this to other mortal ear, and should not to you, -had not your questioning drawn me to speak out what I fancied you to -have already conjectured. Nay, they say that many of Mr. Eustace's -friends were inclined to look suspiciously on the matter; but earthly -friends, for the most part, are cold and lax in the behalf of those out -of sight." - -"And was nothing more heard by Matthew of his master?" Mary faintly -inquired. - -"Yes, early in spring, Matthew, to his joyful surprise, received a -letter from Mr. Eustace, telling him to go to Oxford, and to remove some -of the property he had at that place to London, where it was received by -a strange clerical gentleman, and taken away he knew not whither. But it -was a consolation to Matthew to know, at least, and be assured by the -gentleman, that his master was safe and well, although still trusting to -his obedience and his silence. I have never since heard or seen anything -of Mr. Matthew, for he left to settle in London. I have often thought -upon the strange story, and wondered whether anything more had ever been -heard of Mr. Eustace." - -Jane Marryott ceased; and for an instant Mary sat with clasped hands, -and a stunned expression in her countenance, till at length meeting the -gaze of her companion fixed upon her, with a look of regretful concern; -she held out her hand and with a wan smile, such as wherewith a patient -might express his thanks at the performer of some painful but necessary -operation, thanked her again for having satisfied her painful -curiosity; sweetly--yet with an expression which much belied the -assertion--assuring Jane Marryott when she expressed her fears as to the -effect upon her mind this communication had produced--that though pain -of course such a relation could not fail to cause her--yet it was not -more than she had endured of late, nor more for her to listen than some -points of her communication must have been to her, Jane Marryott, to -reveal; for even in the absorption of her own feelings, Mary had not -failed to mark and to compassionate the look of humbled shame and -sorrow, which bowed down the daughter's head in those parts of her -relation bearing allusion to her mother, whilst at the same time the -honest simplicity of her class and character, had forced her to pass -through the ordeal without compromise or circumlocution; and thus from -the lips of the stranger of yesterday, there had been revealed in a -manner calculated to strike entire conviction upon the mind of the -listener, every circumstance which before had been concealed by a dark -cloud of mystery--or that the tender consideration of friends had dealt -out to her, in the vile daily drop of vague insinuation and report. - -Stupified and still, she sat for some time after Jane Marryott had taken -her departure. Mary having said something at parting about seeing her on -the morrow, as Jane Marryott did not leave for Liverpool, the place of -her intended embarkation, till she had received the final tidings of her -mother's fate; promised to her by Eugene Trevor. - -But the interview did not take place. Mary sent her a useful present, -but was too unwell to see her when she called. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - As they, who to their couch at night - Would win repose, first quench the light, - So must the hopes that keep this breast - Awake, be quenched, ere it can rest. - - MOORE. - - -We left Mary yielding herself to the passive impression made upon her -mind by the startling results of that strange conversation; then -gradually that mind began to rouse itself to think, and form, and -deliberate as to what was to be done--or rather _was_ there anything to -be done? Was hers to be the tongue to blaze about the woman's story, to -give substance and a shape to the airy-tongued aspersions brought -against her lover's name--was this her woman's part? Oh, no; yet -something she had to do--some part to act? - -Under the influence of this impulse it was that she arose, and going to -a writing-table, sat down, and wrote to Eugene Trevor; not to -accuse--not to condemn--not even to attack him in the mildest terms with -the grave charge she had heard laid against him. - -There was no such spirit as this in Mary; though the mere reminiscences -of past words and looks which had escaped her lover in moments of -uncontrol, but more still the words he had left unspoken--the looks so -sedulously avoided, rose before her remembrance, and flashed fearful -conviction on her mind; the more her soul shrunk from the dark idea now -connected with her lover's history, the more did her heart bleed for -him, who must all along have carried in his breast so heavy a load of -conscience, upon whose life one fatal remembrance must have cast its -bleak and dreary shade, whose smile must have hidden so aching a -heart--whose laugh, which had so often rejoiced her soul, must have rung -forth so false and hollow from his breast; and as love seemed startled -from its seat, so did a great compassion usurp its place within her -soul. - -And he, the persecuted, the alien--how far less for him she felt were -tears of pity due! - -No, addressing Eugene in the subdued and broken terms which more -touchingly spoke the feeling actuating her heart than any stern or -solemn eloquence of appeal could have done, she began by alluding to the -distressing interview of the preceding night; she gave him to understand -her determination, that it should be final--that it had become the -gradual conviction of her mind, that it was not fit that they should -ever be united--before she had seen him, indeed, she had promised her -brother that their inauspicious engagement should be brought to an end. -Since then a terrible story had been sounded in her ear--one she had not -courage to repeat--she would only say it related to his conduct to his -brother, of whose identity with Mr. Temple she now was fully aware. Mary -asked for no confession or denial of the imputation, but she told him -simply where that brother was to be found, and implored him no longer, -if innocent, to countenance such an implication, by consenting to -continue his present false position in his father's house, under cover -of so baseless a plea as that which had made his brother an exile. But -if any shade of truth rested on the story, why then what remained, but -that full reparation which would bring peace and happiness to his own -soul--greater peace and happiness, she was sure, if a single shade of -guilt in this respect had laid upon it than he ever could have tasted -since the dreadful moment when first it rested there? She was sure, -though bitter words had been wrung from him in the excitement of last -night's conversation, that he would feel convinced of the -disinterestedness of the feelings which prompted her anxiety in this -affair--that she would have pleaded for the interest of an utter -stranger, as now she pleaded for the valued friend whom, whatever -circumstances accrued, it was probable she should never see again. Mary -alluded but slightly to the prospects of her own future, and that only -to express how its altered aspect would be cheered and brightened by the -knowledge that this just and necessary line of conduct had been adopted. - -Mary had been interrupted in the middle of her letter by the return of -Miss Elliott from the courts. Little dreaming the nature of the -correspondence over which she found her sad friend employed, there was -enough revealed in her manner and countenance to bespeak the anxiety and -painful absorption of her mind. - -Even Miss Elliott's glowing description of the success, superior to that -indeed of the preceding day which had attended her brother's exertions, -in a case of considerable interest and importance (a report delivered -not without many beautiful blushes on the fair speaker's part), even -this scarcely seemed to have power to concentrate and excite her -listener's languid and abstracted attention. - -"Dear Miss Seaham, have you been sitting writing here all the time I -have been away? if so, it is very naughty of you, for you do not look -fit at all for the exertion. I am sure you must be more ill than you -will allow us to suppose--and without your own maid too." - -"I fainted last night, a thing I have not done since I was a child; of -course to-day I feel rather weak and languid, in consequence," Mary -replied, seeing it was necessary to account in a more satisfactory -manner, for her wretched appearance. - -"Fainted, my dear Mary, what could have been the cause?" - -"I suppose the heat of the court, all the excitement and agitation of -the day, had something to do with it," Mary answered hurriedly; "but -pray do not tell Arthur, I would not have him annoyed with any anxiety -on my behalf just now. I feel rather tired, having had a long visit from -poor Jane Marryott and this letter too to write; when it is over," with -a faint smile, "I trust you will find me a more agreeable companion." - -Carrie Elliott took the gentle hint, and pressing her rosy rips on -Mary's cheek, in her graceful caressing manner, went away to her own -apartments. - -"Oh, happy Arthur!" thought Mary as with tears starting to her eyes, she -returned to her painful task. "Oh, why is it," asked the swelling heart, -"that such different lots are appointed to human beings? why are some -destined to be thus privileged and blest, whilst others are suffered, -like myself, by a strong delusion, to place their hopes and happiness -upon unworthy objects; to feed on ashes--to lean on reeds which pierce -them, to be wounded--disappointed in their tenderest affections." What -had there been in her blameless life to draw upon her such retribution? -But these were but the murmuring risings of the moment--in another, -that spirit humble, contrite and resigned, which unquestioning kisses -the rod of Him who hath appointed it, had resumed its customary place -within the writer's breast. - - * * * * * - -Eugene's letter concluded, Mary did not pause there. She felt there was -one more step to be taken. She wrote to Mr. Wynne; she told him in a few -emphatic words, how from a source bearing only too strong a stamp of -veracity, doubts and suspicions which had long vaguely agitated her -mind, had received perfect confirmation; namely, that Mr. Temple was no -other than Eustace Trevor, the brother of Eugene. "But it is not this -fact, dear Sir," she continued, "which most concerns and distresses me; -it is the strange, and fearful story, which for the first time, in one -terrible moment was revealed to me. I allude to the conduct of Eugene -towards his brother. You, dear friend, I am convinced, are fully -informed of every particular respecting Mr. Eustace Trevor's history. I -implore you then to tell me, is there entire truth in this awful tale; -and if so, to entreat your injured friend to allow no farther guilt to -be accumulated on the unhappy offender's soul. I have even ventured to -write to Eugene, and entreated him to take the first step towards -atonement and reconciliation; but if my feeble influence fail, then help -him to cast aside those morbid feelings and ideas (noble and generous in -their origin as they were) which hitherto actuated his conduct, and to -return to England--to the world--reassert his rights--the lawful place -in his country and amongst his friends. Whether his unhappy brother -comes forward in this cause or not, still let him act, as alas! -presumptuous as it may be for me to speak thus, to one so far above me, -it had been well for all he had long since acted. What but woe could -come when the righteous and the true fled before the face of wickedness -and deceit--stooped to false disguises with a heart and conscience which -could have defied the united malice of the world. Let him return; all -that is merciful I am fully convinced, as far as is consistent with -human justice, will sway the conduct of one, so true and faithful a -follower of that Divine Being, whose long-suffering forgiveness to the -vilest offenders against His goodness, no man can fathom." - - * * * * * - -This letter proved of the two, the most agitating and trying to Mary's -feelings; so that when her brother, just after its completion, entered -the room, he found his sister's cheeks no longer pale as Miss Elliott -had left them, but burning with a false and feverish excitement. - -He questioned her affectionately about her health; for though she at -first, with a forced vivacity, congratulated him fondly on the brilliant -report she had heard of him from so eloquent a source, the brother had -not failed in the meantime to observe her quivering lips, the glittering -restlessness of her eyes, and the trembling hands with which she sealed -the letter before her. - -"Dear Arthur," she said, with a melancholy attempt at a smile, "I am as -well as one in my position can be, for look," she added hurriedly, "I -have done your bidding," and she took up one of the letters and placed -it in Arthur's hand. - -The brother started as he read the direction, then looked up anxiously -into his sister's face. - -"Mary, have you really done it?" - -She bowed her head. - -"And you are finally free of the engagement?" - -"I am." - -"And you do not repent of what you have done?" - -"No." - -"And you do not find it very painful?" - -A wan smile was the answer. - -"Dear Mary!" the brother exclaimed, turning away to hide a bright drop -that started to his eye, "how shall we ever be able to repay you for all -you have suffered so long and patiently?" - -A smile again played upon her lips, as she marked the _we_ for the first -time used in a speech of this nature, and putting her hand in her -brother's, she replied: - -"By allowing me to witness your happiness, dear Arthur." - -Too much occupied with unselfish concern for his sister, the young man -did not understand the speech as it was intended; but after a moment's -anxious consideration, inquired: - -"Mary, has anything occurred since our conversation the day before -yesterday, to hasten this step? I know that Trevor went away early this -morning, but had you any meeting with him yesterday?" - -"I had," she answered, colouring deeply; "but, Arthur," in a faltering -voice, "spare me any further questions; let what I have done suffice." - -"Selfish--heartless--double-hearted," were the emphatic murmurings of -the young man's lips, as he turned away with dark and moody brow, "would -that _I_ might ask a few questions of him." - -"Arthur!" Mary exclaimed, laying her hands reproachfully on his -shoulder, "you will make me believe that after all you are vexed and -disturbed that our engagement is over." - -"No, Mary, Heaven knows that is not the case; but still, it makes my -blood boil to think how you have waited so long and faithfully, and that -after all your trust and patience will have been all in vain, that your -precious affection should have been wasted." - -"Then, Arthur, console yourself with the assurance that I grudge no -measure of faith and patience I may have exerted. Faith and patience can -never be in vain; would that was all I have now to mourn over. As for -wasted affection--affection never can be wasted," unconsciously quoting -the words once sounded in her ear, in tones which ever since had -lingered there. "My affection, though blind, perhaps, and mistaken, was -pure and innocent. God will not suffer it to return fruitless to my -bosom." - - * * * * * - -Arthur Seaham was obliged to go and prepare himself for the judge's -dinner, and Mary to exert herself during her _tête-à-tête_ evening with -Miss Elliott. - -The next day she was too ill to rise. Her maid was sent for, and with -her Mary a day or two after went to a pretty cottage not far distant, -belonging to her brother, where he was soon to join her. The Morgans -were not then in the country. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - But now, alas! the place seems changed, - Thou art no longer here: - Part of the sunshine of the scene - With thee did disappear. - - LONGFELLOW. - - - Confess! Record myself - A villain! - - VENICE PRESERVED. - - -Mary Seaham's letter reached Montrevor the day after Mabel Marryott's -funeral. Eugene Trevor tore it open eagerly, turned ashy pale as he -perused it, then, thrusting it into his pocket, went about his business -as before. - -Day after day went by, and the letter remained unanswered--unacted upon. - -With sullen defiance, or silent contempt, Eugene Trevor seemed to have -determined upon treating the earnest appeal the important requisition -it contained. The appeal he endeavoured to consider it of a weak, simple -woman, who probably looked upon an affair of so serious--nay, he was -forced to acknowledge, so fearful--a nature in no stronger light than -that of some romantic fiction, only costing the actor engaged in it the -struggle of some heroic and high-wrought feeling to bring the matter to -a satisfactory issue; and who little knew that it would have been far -easier to him to put a pistol to his head, than to draw down upon -himself such ruin--in every sense of the word--as the sacrifice so -calmly required of him by the fair and gentle Mary Seaham must entail. - -"Senseless girl! what! recall my father's incensed heir to his admiring -friends, now all up in arms at the treatment--the persecution, they -would call it--that he had received at my hands! restore him in all the -strength and brightness of his intellect, striking conviction to every -mind as to the truth of the testimonies, which would not fail to start -up on every side, to substantiate the false nature of the plea which had -alienated him from his lawful rights. Then how would vague reports find -confirmation! surmises, suspicions be brought to light! And what would -become of _me_? what would become of my debts--my character--my -honour--my covetousness?" - -If these were in any sort the reflections which influenced Eugene Trevor -for the next week or so after the receipt of Mary's letter, that letter -seemed to have had at any rate the power of subduing for a time his -energies and courage in the prosecution of former designs. - -He made no attempt to alter his father's obstinate determination to keep -wholly to his bed. He seemed suddenly to have lost his anxiety as to -securing the will, and discovering the remaining forged notes. He was -moody, gloomy, apathetic. One day chance took him to that part of the -house where his mother's boudoir was situated. Pausing as he passed the -door, he pushed it open, and entered. - -The window was open--the sunbeams played upon the old quaint furniture, -the room seemed fresh, and bright, and clear, in comparison with the -rest of the house; which ever since Marryott's death and funeral seemed -to have retained the influence, and impressed him with those revolting -ideas attached to the signs and ensigns of mortality entertained by the -mind who cannot, or dare not, look beyond those consequences of -corruptibility for the object of that fearful power. A dark, pall-like -covering seemed spread over the whole house; a close, sickly atmosphere -to pervade it throughout. - -But here--all this seemed to have been effectually shut out, as if the -destroying angel, as he brushed past with hasty wing, had seen the mark -upon that door, which forbade him entrance; and Eugene Trevor went and -stretched his head out of the window, breathing more freely than he had -done for many a day. - -Suddenly, however, he drew back; the action had brought to his -remembrance just such another clear, bright sunny day, when he had last -stood leaning in that position; but alas! how differently accompanied. - -Then alone with a fair, pure, gentle girl--her sweet presence, her -tender voice, infusing into his soul an influence which for the time had -lifted him almost above himself into a paradise of thought--of feeling -he had long since forfeited; and now alone--alone with his own dark -jarring thoughts--alone with that juggling fiend impenitent remorse -gnashing at his heart--alone with his present disquiet--with the -threatening fear of the future--the withering memories of the past. Well -might he have cried aloud for the lost dream which suggested this -comparison--a dream indeed false and treacherous in its foundation; for -except that conscience slept undisturbed, how was he different then to -what he is now. And yet he would fain have recalled it, for suddenly -with that association seemed to have taken hold upon his fancy a -passionate yearning, an impatient regret that he had not been able to -secure possession of the being who had at that time certainly exercised -a very worthy influence over his affections. A tormenting idea that his -marriage at that period might have warded off the evils now circling -threatening around his head; or at the worst have given him a fond and -devoted sharer in his fortunes, such as in the whole world he knew not -where to look for now. For how she had loved him! Yes, it was pleasant -and soothing to his feelings, in their present ruffled state, to -remember that he had been loved so tenderly, so purely, so entirely for -himself alone: and then came the stinging reaction--the remembrance -that he was no longer loved--that he had seen a look of fear, almost of -aversion, usurp the place of confiding affection in those soft and -loving eyes: that finally, she had fainted from mere abhorrence at the -idea of the promise he had pressed so urgently upon her--then too, when -it seemed she had not heard the story which proved the cause and subject -of her letter. - -No--but she had been in Italy with his brother, that -martyr-hero--fascinated, enthralled, no doubt,--and he must lose, -relinquish her too. No, by heaven! that he would not do--that weak, -pale, soft-hearted girl, should he passively resign his power over her -also? villain or not as she might deem him, he must make her to believe -it were cruelty, perjury, and sordid unfaithfulness, to desert him -now--to break her vows, because she had discovered that there was one -with better claims than himself to the fortune and expectations she had -imagined him to possess. - - * * * * * - -In this new mood Eugene went to pay his customary morning visit to his -father's room, and there fresh fuel was added to the fire lately kindled -in his breast. - -The old man had for the last few days taken a different turn. At first, -as we have said, his disenthralment from Marryott's guardianship had -been a relief to his mind; but to this feeling had succeeded a restless -disquiet as to the consequences of the removal of this Cerberus of his -household, and the destruction both of himself and property, fraud, -robbery, poisoning, fire, ruin and destruction in every possible shape, -seemed to be hanging over his head by a single hair. He was in a -perpetual fear whenever he found his son had left the house. - -The day to which we allude, Eugene Trevor was assailed with the usual -amount of murmuring and complaint. - -"Eugene, a pretty state we are in now. I should like to know what's to -become of us if we go on much longer in this manner." - -"In what way, my dear Sir? everything seems to go on very quietly; -really, with scarcely half a dozen servants in the house, and all the -plate safe in the bank, I do not think there's any chance of much harm -being done." - -"No harm? Gracious powers! how do you know what abominations of -extravagance are not going forward--you who are always sleeping miles -away from the wretches, and know not how I may be robbed, and cheated, -and eaten out of house and home. I'll tell you one thing, Eugene, I am -determined I'll get to the offices, if I'm carried there, and see to a -fraction every bit of meat weighed that comes into the house, as _you_ -won't help me." - -"My dear Sir, I would do everything in my power, I assure you, but the -chief object at present I think will be to try and find some second -Marryott, who, I hope," with a sneering emphasis on the words, "you will -find an equal treasure of honesty and faithfulness as the other." - -"I don't want another Marryott," whined the old man, peevishly; "I won't -have a housekeeper at all, with their forty-guinea wages--they are as -bad as any of them--Marryott understood my ways--" - -"And your coffers too, Sir," added Eugene, with a scornful laugh. "A -pretty hoard she had at the bank. I am sorry she made no will; I, as her -foster-son, might have been the better for it; but as it is, it belongs -to her husband, if he is yet alive." - -"What's the use of telling me all this _now_," whimpered the father, -"when you let her go on doing it without giving me a hint?" - -"Oh, my dear Sir, she saved it for you in other ways! 'Set a thief to -catch a thief,' you know, at any rate she let no one rob you but -herself, which, as so very old and faithful a servant, of course she -considered herself privileged to do; but set your mind at ease," he -continued more soothingly, as the old man writhed upon his bed, groaning -in agony of spirit, "I'll make it my business to find some honest, -decent woman, who at least will not be able to claim the privilege of -common property on the above-mentioned score." - -"But how can you be sure of her being decent and honest?" still -persisted Mr. Trevor; "there's not one amongst the race, I believe, that -is so. I'll have nothing to do with any of them. I will tell you what, -Eugene," and the old man's eyes gleamed at the sudden suggestion, "the -only thing that's to be done--why don't you get a wife, and bring her to -live here, and keep the house?" - -Eugene Trevor's brow darkened. - -"A bright idea, Sir," he responded, ironically. - -"Yes, yes," continued the old man; "what are you thinking of, Eugene, -that you don't marry? you're getting on in life; I was married before I -was as old by half. What's to become of the family and fortune--if -there's any left of it--if you don't marry?" - -His son's eye brightened. - -"And by the bye, now I think of it," the father continued, craftily, -"what became of that pretty young lady you brought here with Olivia, to -that grand luncheon some time ago? I liked her--her voice was soft and -gentle, and her manners sensible and quiet. She was something like your -mother, Eugene, when I married her; now why could she not do for you?" - -"You remember, Sir, that when I did propose making her my wife, it did -not meet with your unqualified approbation," replied his son, evasively. - -"Oh, didn't it! but that was long ago--then Marryott was here to look -after things, and she, I suppose, didn't like it; but now couldn't you -look her out again--she isn't gone, is she--you have not lost her?" - -Eugene set his teeth hard together and did not immediately reply; but -then he said, fixing his eyes on the old man's face, and speaking in -tones of affected carelessness: - -"After all, I do not see how _my_ marriage can be an affair of such -_great_ consequence, for you know, Sir, there is Eustace." - -The old man's face convulsed terribly--that name had not for many years -past been uttered by Eugene or any one in his presence. - -"Eustace," he murmured tremblingly, "and what has it to do with -Eustace--isn't he mad, or dead, or something?" - -"He is not dead, certainly, Sir; and mad or not, he might be coming back -any day, to put in claims which would not make my marriage so very -desirable or expedient a business." - -Mr. Trevor looked fearfully around him. - -"But, Eugene," he gasped in a low, breathless whisper, "he's not -near--he's not likely to come and threaten me. You must keep the doors -fastened--you must keep him locked out." - -"Oh, my dear father!" his son responded, "there's no such immediate -danger as all that; he's far enough off, and not likely to trouble you: -only I mean, if--if anything were to happen--then--then, of course, he -would be here to look after his own interests; for he's on the watch -for your death, I have been told on good authority, and therefore of -course you know it would not do for _me_ to run any risk--to marry for -instance--unless I can see my way a little more plainly before me." - -The old man became livid with rage; all his ancient hatred against his -son seemed to revive at the suggestion thus insinuated against him. - -"To watch for my death! and what then will that do for him--the -bedlamite? Eugene! Eugene!" grasping his arm, "never fear him--go and -get married--bring your wife here to look after the house, and I'll live -another half century to spite him, and then see who'll have it all. -We've got a will, Eugene, haven't we?" chuckling and rubbing his hands -exultingly. - -"There was one made certainly, and a deed giving me the guardianship -over the entailed estates in case of your death, under plea of Eustace's -incompetency. But if you remember, you would not have a duplicate made -of it. I hope you have it safe." - -"I'll look it out, Eugene," Mr. Trevor continued as if effectually -aroused by the new friction his old heart had received. "I have it safe -enough. I'll get up immediately--no, not to-day, but to-morrow. I'll -make a day of it, and put all things right." - -"Very well, my dear Sir; keep yourself quiet for to-day. My man is here, -you can trust in him should you want anything. I'm going to ride for an -hour or two." - -"Eh--to ride--where? I can't be left," the old man whispered. - -"Oh, my dear Sir, William will take as good care of you as myself. I'm -really expiring for want of fresh air, and exercise. I'm going to ride -over to Silverton on a little business--to make inquiries you know about -my wife," he added, looking back with a laugh as he left the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - Oh! it is darkness to lose love, however - We little prized the fond heart--fond no more! - The bird, dark-winged on earth, looks white in air! - Unrecognised are angels till they soar! - And few so rich they may not well beware - Of lightly losing the heart's golden ore! - - WILLIS. - - -Eugene Trevor accordingly mounted his beautiful horse, all fierce and -fiery for the want of exercise, and rode fast to Silverton without -scarcely once slackening his steed's pace. Just as he approached the -mansion, he raised his eyes to a chamber window above. Strange to say, -he never drew near the house without being moved with a pang smiting at -his heart, fraught with more or less of regretful recollections; for he -could not but remember whose gentle eyes had so often watched for him -there. - -But to-day, a darker and more determined spirit spoke in the upward -"flash of that dilating eye," as his horse's hoofs clattered over the -stony approach. - -Mrs. de Burgh only, he heard to his satisfaction was at home, and she -was confined to her dressing-room with a sprained ankle, but no doubt -would see Mr. Trevor--a supposition in which the servant was quite -correct. - -Mrs. de Burgh was only too delighted to have the tediousness of her -confinement thus broken in upon, particularly as she was hoping to hear -all about Marryott's death, and the strange circumstances connected with -the forged notes of which only vague and contradictory reports had -reached her ear. - -Having, therefore, first accounted for her accident, and giving vent to -some complaining strictures on Louis's unfeeling conduct in leaving her -alone; whilst he went visiting and amusing himself in Scotland, making -it indeed appear an act very unconjugal and unkind, till it came out -that Mr. de Burgh's departure had taken place before her accident; and -that she had in her fretful pique never written to inform her husband -of what had occurred. - -After this the fair lady began to question her cousin concerning the -late events at Montrevor, and Eugene Trevor to satisfy her curiosity as -far, and in the manner he deemed most expedient. - -"So you see, Olivia," he added, "altogether I have had a pretty time of -it lately, what with one thing and another, and have been terribly put -out." - -"Well, I thought there was something the matter, as you had quite -deserted Silverton." - -"Plenty the matter; but there was one subject I came on purpose to speak -to you about to-day; you were always my friend in need, Olivia, and I -want to consult you--I mean about Mary Seaham." - -"Oh, indeed!" replied the lady, with a suppressed yawn, and a tone in -which the words "that weary old subject" seemed expressed; for there is -nothing which in the end so much wears out the sympathy and interest of -one's friends, however much excited they may have been in the beginning, -as a protracted love affair. - -"Oh, indeed! have you seen or heard anything of her lately?" Mrs. de -Burgh then inquired with assumed interest. - -"Yes, I saw her at ---- after the trial, at which, you know, I had to -appear. She was there with her brother, who was retained for the -prisoner." - -"Indeed, how did she look? is she much altered, poor girl?" - -"I don't know," he answered gloomily; "she looked pale; but then, our -interview was of no very pleasing nature, and.... But I have heard from -her since then," he added, in the same tone, without concluding the -former sentence; "she writes to break off the engagement." - -"Well, Eugene, you can scarcely wonder; you must own, you have tried her -patience to the very uttermost," his cousin answered, smiling -reproachfully; "but it is just the way with you men," she continued, as -she scanned more closely the working of Eugene's countenance, "you would -keep us waiting till doomsday to serve your own convenience, without one -scruple of concern; but if we begin to show any disposition to be off, -then you are, forsooth, the injured and aggrieved; well, however, is it -not as well? What profit or pleasure can such an engagement be to you, -who year after year seem no nearer the end than at the beginning? and as -for your father, I believe he's 'the never-dying one.'" - -"But, Olivia, matters have lately taken a different aspect," her cousin -muttered, gloomily, "my father is urging me to marry, and would do -anything to further it. I would marry her to-morrow, if it could only be -managed." - -"Well, why not tell her so. I suppose it was only the apparent -hopelessness of the case which induced her to give you up--tell her at -once." - -"I did tell her when I saw her last--more, I pressed an immediate -marriage urgently upon her; but," with a bitter laugh, "the idea has -become so repugnant to her feelings, that she absolutely fainted with -horror and aversion." - -"Nonsense, Eugene, from joy most likely." - -"Joy, indeed--and that letter she wrote after. Oh, no! she has taken it -into her head that I am a villain, and--" - -Mrs. de Burgh laughed. - -"A villain," she repeated, "not quite so bad as that I hope, though not -very good I am afraid. A villain! no, we must manage to get that idea at -least out of the young lady's head." - -"But how?" Eugene asked. - -"Why, really, I don't know; let me see--I will write to her--though -letters are not worth much. I wish, indeed, I could get her here away -from her relations, who are all such terribly good people." - -Eugene Trevor drew his chair eagerly forward. - -"What here, do you really mean it--do you think it possible--that there -would be any chance of her consenting to come?" - -"I do not see why it should be impossible--at any rate we can try, and I -flatter myself I am not a little clever about these sort of things. Oh, -depend upon it, poor girl, she will only be too glad to be persuaded -into loving you again. But then, Eugene, I must be sure that you really -are in earnest--that the affair will be really brought to a decided -issue, before I move again in the business. I burnt my fingers too -severely with it before, and brought upon myself quite sufficient odium. -What does Mary say in her letter? I must be quite _au fait_ in the -business, you know, and understand what I am about." - -"You shall know everything," said Eugene, approaching nearer, and -subduing his tone to a confidential whisper. "It is a more complicated -matter than you suppose. There is one very serious point to be dealt -with: you will be surprised when you hear that it relates to my unlucky -brother." - -Mrs. de Burgh started, and looked a little uncomfortable. - -"First of all," he added in still lower tones; "but," pausing suddenly, -"will you be so good as to tell that young gentleman not to stare me out -of countenance," alluding to his cousin's eldest boy, a delicate and -serious-looking child, who sat on his mother's sofa, his intelligent -eyes with earnest scrutiny rivetted upon Eugene's countenance, as he sat -there with bent brow, and dark look of brooding care. - -"Don't be rude, Charlie; go to the nursery," said his mother, half -angry, half amused. "Why do you stare at cousin Eugene? do you not think -he is very handsome?" - -The boy coloured, but rising slowly, as if to escape an answer to the -question, murmured evasively: - -"Yes, I'll go up stairs, and look at my pictures about the dark-looking -Cain thinking about his brother Abel." - -"The strange child," said Mrs. de Burgh, with a little awkward laugh, -for she knew the picture to which the child alluded, and was -irresistibly struck by the similitude which it seems had suggested the -comparison. A dark flush at the same time suffused the temples of her -companion; but it had soon passed away. After a momentary pause, drawing -near Mrs. de Burgh, and placing his chair a little behind her couch, -with eyes bent still on the ground, Eugene resumed the subject thus -interrupted. He spoke to her of his brother. - -We will not detail the conversation, or how much, or in what manner he -revealed or confided of that momentous theme. We must not compromise -Mrs. de Burgh by supposing it possible she would have made herself privy -to any known questionable transaction; suffice it to say, that it was -dusk before Eugene Trevor rose to leave her, and that then the cousins -parted most amicably. - -Eugene promised to ride over very soon again; and when he had gone, Mrs. -de Burgh after lying still meditating for a short time, aroused herself -with the philosophical observation that this was a strange world--rang -the bell for lights, which being brought, and her writing materials laid -before her, she wrote as follows: - - "My dearest Mary, - - "Eugene Trevor has just been here, wretched beyond description, to - tell me you have broken off your engagement with him just as - matters were beginning to take a favourable turn, and he could - marry you to-morrow. I tell him he deserves this for having taxed - your patience so long; but that, as you may imagine, gives him - little comfort. But, Mary dear, I cannot believe you so very - hard-hearted as to place so final an extinguisher on his hopes. - - "He tells me you have listened to reports about him; one scandalous - story in particular he mentioned, about his strange and unfortunate - brother, in behalf of whom, some romantic adventures in Wales and - abroad, gave you an interest unduly awarded. I say unduly--because, - however fine and noble a creature Eustace Trevor may be by nature, - it is not right that you should be unfaithful and unjust to Eugene - through his cause. However, this is an affair which we cannot - rightly dispose of in a letter; in one conversation I could put - everything before you, dear, as clear as day. - - "My dear Mary, come to Silverton; you owe it to Eugene--you owe it - to yourself--you owe it to me, who first made you known to my - cousin, not to refuse this request. I do not know where to direct - this letter, I only know that you are somewhere in Wales, so send - it to Plas Glyn, from whence it is certain to be forwarded to you. - When I also tell you I am confined to my sofa by a terrible sprain - which will keep me a prisoner, Heaven knows how long, you will - suspect perhaps a little selfish feeling is mixed up with my - solicitude for your visit; but no, indeed, I am too seriously - anxious for your own happiness and Eugene's to have any such minor - considerations, though a pleasure only too great would it be to me - to have my dear Mary with me again. - - "Louis will be at home by the time you arrive. I need not say how - glad he will be to see you. Eugene shall not come here at all, if - you do not like it--he need not even know of your arrival; he - seldom comes to Silverton now. Alas, poor fellow! the recollections - this place awakens can be but painful to him under present - circumstances. - - "Mary, Eugene may have some faults, but still I maintain that you - might have made him what you wished, and that love so tried as his - ought not to be thrown away, as you are about to do. Not many men, - after being exposed to the temptations to which Eugene has been - subjected, would still, after four years' almost constant - separation, be so very urgent in the cause of marriage. But, dear - Mary, even setting aside all this, what have you better to do than - to come here with your faithful servant? You surely do not mean - quite to desert Silverton and your cousins. I want you to see my - children; the youngest is such a fine creature. I shall look - forward to your answer with the greatest anxiety; you do not know - how much may depend on acceding to the request of - - "Your affectionate - - "OLIVIA." - -And this was the letter Mary at last received, after having, day after -day, waited in sick and solitary suspense for any answer which she might -have received from Eugene Trevor--solitary, for though her brother, as -speedily as his professional engagements would permit, had followed her, -a summons from Judge Elliott had quickly succeeded, offering the young -man some very responsible legal appointment, which required his -immediate presence in London. Of course there could be no question of -demur. Mary urged her brother's immediate departure, over-ruling any -scruples on his part at leaving her alone, and his earnest desire that -at least she should accompany him to town. - -No, she persuaded him that she should rather like the rest and quiet of -the place in her present state of feeling; "besides, dear Arthur," she -said with a melancholy smile, "it is necessary that I should begin to -learn to accustom myself to a solitary life." - -"I do not at all see that, Mary," Arthur answered almost angrily--"why -your's should ever be solitary." - -"No indeed," was the affectionate reply; "I know that can never be, with -such a brother, and," with a playful smile, "such a sister as I hope -soon to have." - -"Mary, you have become very anxious to dispose of your brother." - -"Yes, certainly I am, to such advantage;" then with gaiety which shot a -ray of gladsome pleasure from the young man's bright eyes, she added: -"besides, I am as much in love with Carrie as yourself; and she and I -are sure to get on well together." - -So Mary was left alone, supposed at least to be calmly happy, when alas, -poor girl! to such a desirable condition she was as yet very far from -having arrived. No, there was as yet too much of suspense and -uncertainty still gnawing within her soul. - -It is not all at once, without a struggle, and one backward longing -look, that we can resign ourselves to the certainty that the hope and -trust on which we had flung our all, has proved a lie. There were two -letters yet to come ere she could let the black curtain fall over the -past for ever. - -Alone too, with a dreamy impression stealing over her, that whatever her -brother's affection might maintain, this loneliness was a foretaste of -her future life. And then the bitter sigh and yearning void, as the -thought flew back to visions all too brightly wrought, now for ever -flown. - -Her faithful servant, who marked her dear young lady's spirits sink -lower and lower every day, sighed too over her disappointed -expectations, for she thought "it would have been better for Miss Mary -to have married Mr. Trevor--even if he were somewhat of a wild -gentleman, as they said he was: she is so like an angel that she could -tame a lion. So good and tender a heart as hers, was never made to live -alone with no one to love her, and to love--and my heart misgives me," -added the affectionate servant. "She will never get over the affair. And -Mr. Arthur too, he is getting too great a man to have much time to give -to her--and there's his heart too, quite gone they say after Miss -Elliott, who is as much taken with him I fancy; and after all he is but -a brother, and the best of them are not so sure and comfortable like as -a husband. But after all," the good woman continued to soliloquize, "a -bad character will not certainly do for my young lady, and there's -something wrong in the Trevors they say. Who would have thought it, and -my Miss Mary loving Mr. Eugene as she did; but she is so good and -innocent-hearted herself! At any rate, she must not stay moping here -much longer. I can see she's getting quite low and nervous." - -These were good Mrs. Hughes' thoughts and reflections on the subject, -and it was no inconsiderable satisfaction to her mind, when Mary came to -her one morning with a letter in her hand, informing her, that she had -received an invitation from Silverton, which she intended to accept, and -begged her to prepare without delay for the journey; after which Mary -sat down and wrote to Mrs. de Burgh, and also the following announcement -to her brother: - - "Dearest Arthur, - - "You will be surprised--perhaps not well pleased--to hear that I am - going to set off to-morrow for Silverton. I have had a pressing - letter from Olivia de Burgh; and there are many things that I must - have explained by Louis and herself, before I feel that I can with - a mind contented and at ease settle down (I do not speak - ironically, but with the calm assurance that there will be much of - blessedness in store for me) in that estate--a life of single - blessedness--which now lies before me. - - "Do not then suspect me of weak and wavering motives in the step I - am going to take. Believe me when I say, that it is not my - intention even to see Eugene. Olivia has promised that I should not - meet him unless I desire it; and what could our meeting cause, but - pain and discomfort to us both? No, I can no longer fight against - the conviction which time and my more experienced perception has - forced upon me, that Eugene Trevor is not what my blind affection - so long firmly believed him. - - "God knows my love was not of an evanescent nature; and - irresistible indeed must be the causes which have so undermined it. - But still my heart shrinks from doing an act of injustice, by - condemning him more than he deserves; and there is one horrible - suspicion with which my mind has been distracted, my heart can - never rest till it has been more clearly enlightened. - - "Oh, Arthur! it is a dark and terrible story, I cannot enter upon - it now. Suffice it that, if true, it must cast a shadow on my - latest hour of existence. If you knew how it has--how it still - preys upon my imagination, even till I sometimes fear the - bewildering influence it may produce upon my senses, you would not - now blame the impulse which leads me to prefer even the risk of - obtaining this fearful certainty--rather than continue groping in - darkness--for to such I may compare the condition under which I - have for some time laboured. But Olivia has promised that my mind - shall be relieved, and Louis, I know, will tell me the truth. May - God give me strength and fortitude to bear it. - - "I shall not wish to remain at Silverton longer than is absolutely - necessary; if therefore your business will permit you to join me - there, I can travel with you back into Wales where the Morgans will - by that time have returned, and I can stay with them as they wish, - till our plans and prospects, dear Arthur, are more finally - arranged." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - Thou, my once loved, valued friend! - By Heavens thou liest; the man so called my friend - Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant: - Noble in mind, and in his person lovely; - Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart; - But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward. - - All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee, - Pr'thee avoid, no longer cling thou round me, - Like something baneful, that my nature's chilled at. - - VENICE PRESERVED. - - -It was as may be supposed, a trying ordeal for poor Mary, her arrival at -Silverton. The circumstances attendant on her last arrival, then -hopeful, trustful, happy; for what appeared the light fears and -imaginary evils which then oppressed her, contrasted with her feelings -and circumstances now? The thousand recollections the sight of the place -recalled, everything, caused her heart to sink and sicken within her. - -With trembling limbs she alighted from the carriage, and in answer to -her inquiries for Mrs. de Burgh, was ushered by the servant into the -drawing-room. - -A gentleman stood leaning his elbow against the marble mantle-piece. The -door closed upon her, and she found herself alone with Eugene Trevor. -Surprise, distress, displeasure, were alternately displayed on Mary's -countenance; and withdrawing the hand which, having hurried forward to -meet her, he had seized passionately in his own, she faltered forth in -accents choked by indignant emotion: - -"I did not expect this; Olivia promised--or I should never have come." - -"It was not Olivia's fault, the blame is entirely mine, Mary. But, ... -is it really come to this? can you look around; can you remember all -that passed between us in this room; nay, what happened on this very -spot--here where our vows of love were plighted?" - -"I do remember," she replied in accents low and mournful, and leaning in -trembling agitation against the very chair on which on that occasion -she had been seated. - -"Then surely your heart cannot harden itself against me--cannot doom me -to misery." - -"My letter," Mary faintly murmured, gently but firmly repulsing the -effort he made again to take her hand. - -"Oh! that abominable story, cooked up against me, which you are so ready -to believe--Olivia will explain...." - -"God grant it!" she murmured, turning her eyes lighted with a brightened -expression on his face; but oh! for one calm, clear, truthful glance in -return. - -Again painfully she averted her head, and saying faintly: - -"I will go to Olivia," moved slowly towards the door. Eugene did not -attempt to stay her departure, only darkly eyeing her retreating -footsteps, he suffered her to leave the room without stirring from the -spot whereon he stood. - -Slowly and heavily she ascended the familiar staircase to Mrs. de -Burgh's dressing-room. Her cousin, still lying on the sofa, started with -affected surprise at her appearance, and stretched out her arms to -receive her. - -Pale, cold, and silent Mary suffered the embrace, then sinking on a -seat, covered her face with her hands, sobbing forth: - -"Olivia, this was cruel; this was unkind--untrue; I came here trusting -to your word. Where is Louis? he surely would not think this right, -would not have allowed me to be drawn into such a distressing position." - -"My darling Mary, what do you mean? You have not fallen in with Eugene, -I hope? Well, that is too bad of him; and he promised so faithfully that -he would leave an hour ago. One of the children let out that you were -coming, and you know there is no managing lovers in a case like this; -the poor fellow is half mad with wretchedness on your account. However, -go he shall, dear, if you wish it--pray make yourself easy on that -point. You must have some tea; you are exhausted after your journey; and -then we shall be able to talk comfortably together. No one shall -interrupt us. Louis has not come home yet, but I expect him every -moment; he will be so charmed to see you." - -Thus Mrs. de Burgh hurried on with affectionate alacrity, without giving -Mary time to renew her reproaches or complaints, but by the tears which -from her overcharged heart the poor girl still silently continued to -shed. - -Mrs. de Burgh did not mind those tears; she rather considered them a -favourable sign. Had Mary appeared before her after the meeting into -which she well knew she had been surprised--cold, calm, stern, silently -upbraiding, she would have feared then for the success of the cause in -which she was engaged. - -But judging from herself, tears in her sex's eyes were marks of -conscious weakness, and the melting mood of feeling rather than of any -firmness or serious effect upon the mind; therefore with secret -complacency she watched and awaited the close of her gentle cousin's -agitated paroxysm of emotion. Then she had strong tea brought, of which -she insisted upon her drinking, overwhelming Mary with care and -tenderness, in the meantime sending for the children to stay a few -moments to divert her thoughts, and restore her by their innocent -presence to a more natural state of thought and feeling. Then, after -partaking herself of some dinner, which Mary declined to share, she saw -her guest ensconced in a comfortable arm-chair by the fire, looking very -pale, it was true, and eyes bright only from nervous excitement, but -her feelings apparently tranquillised and soothed; then struck bravely -forth upon the anxious theme. - -With tact, skill, and eloquence which would have graced a better cause, -Mrs. de Burgh pleaded in her favourite's behalf--favouritism, alas! we -fear drawing its source from principles doing little honour to the -object of her partiality, and justifying still less the restless zeal -with which she strove to forward a cause, in which the fate of a good -and innocent being was so closely implicated. - -But though "her tongue dropped manna and could make the worst appear the -better reason," the time was past when the willing ear of the auditor -could be thus beguiled. She had no longer to deal with the too credulous -and easy-to-be-persuaded Mary of other days, but one with eyes too -tremblingly awake, and ears too powerfully quickened, to the discernment -of falsity from the truth. - -Each specious statement rang false and hollow on her unpersuaded mind, -touching not one atom of that weight of inward conviction which, alas! -had been too firmly rooted there, for aught but the touch of genuine -truth to undermine; and when, with her face buried in her hands, she -listened with suspended respiration to the story of the brother's -madness, which flowed so glibly from those eager, fluent lips, little -Mrs. de Burgh deemed now every word thus uttered served but more -forcibly to confirm the fearful impression which the simple-motived Jane -had made upon her listener's mind. - -"And then poor man," Mrs. de Burgh, continued, "after frightening the -old man out of his wits by his violence, he fled from the house and hid -himself no one knew where. Poor Eugene's anxiety on his behalf was -extreme; but of course, as he supposed him to have gone abroad, all -researches were taken on the wrong track. There is no one to vouch for -the condition of his mind during that interval--when he came to your -part of the world it seems that he had pretty well recovered." - -Thus had Mrs. de Burgh concluded her plausible relation, pausing not a -little, anxious for the effect produced upon her ominously silent -auditor. Mary then lifted up her eyes, and with an expression upon her -face, the fair Olivia did not know exactly how to understand, replied: - -"Yes, he came to us, appearing like some being of a higher sphere, and -in accordance with Mr. Wynne's earnest persuasion (Mr. Wynne, a man -whose keen and sensitive discernment it would have been difficult to -deceive) settled down amongst us at once--unmistakably endued with every -attribute which bespeaks the spirit of wisdom and a sound mind. He had -spent the winter at ----, and often spoke of the solitary life he led -whilst at that wild spot. Since that time we have frequently visited the -Lake; and very far seemed the idea of madness to have entered the minds -of the poor simple people of the place, in connection with that 'great -and noble gentleman,' as they called him, who, to their pride and -profit, had taken up his abode amongst them for a time. Then he went to -----, and there he was taken very ill at the inn. The landlady and the -doctor, who are both familiar to us, never had but one simple idea -respecting the nature of his malady. He came to us with the signs of -past suffering stamped too plainly on his countenance--suffering which, -in such a man, appeared but to exalt and sanctify the sufferer in the -eyes of those who beheld him. - -"But all this would bear little on the point, were it not for the surer -testimony which not myself only, but the many who for five years lived -in daily witness of the calm excellency of his life and conduct--the -undoubted strength and clearness of his mind and understanding are able -to produce. Tell the poorest and most ignorant of the little flock, -amongst whom Mr. Eustace Trevor (their beloved Mr. Temple) so familiarly -endeared himself, that he--who even, though interchange of language was -scarcely permitted between them, they had learned to venerate as some -almost supernatural being--that _his_ mind had been ever overthrown by -an infirmity which had banished him from society, from his friends; and -they would laugh to scorn the imputation, and say 'that the world rather -must be mad, that imagined such an absurdity against him.'" - -Slowly and painfully, as if each word was drawn from her by the -irresistible conviction of her secret soul, to which some inward power -compelled her to give utterance, Mary offered these assertions. Mrs. de -Burgh's countenance when she concluded showed signs of uneasiness, but -she only said with some bitterness of tone: - -"Those people must indeed be rather uninformed, who are not aware that -it is more frequently the strongest and the wisest minds who are most -liable to that most deceptive of all maladies; but really, my dear -Mary," she continued with increased asperity, "it seems to me a great -pity that you did not sooner appreciate the extraordinary perfections of -which you speak with such enthusiasm--both you and poor Eugene might -then have been spared all the trouble your mutual attachment has thus -unfortunately occasioned--though, of course, this is only according to -your own view of the case, for it would enter into few people's heads to -believe it probable that poor Eustace Trevor could ever marry." - -The blood flowed with painful intensity over Mary's face and brow, and a -spark of almost fire shot from her usually mild eyes. But from whatever -cause the strong emotion proceeded, whether impatient indignation at -such unjust and cruel persistance on her cousin's part, or any other -feeling, its unwonted force, though momentary, seemed entirely to -over-power her self-possession, for though her lips moved, she found no -words to reply, but drooped her head in silent confusion before her -cousin. - -So Mrs. de Burgh continued: - -"You, Mary, would have been the last I thought to put such a -construction on an affair of this sort. You cannot know the -circumstances of the case, and the difficult position in which Eugene -might have been placed. That a most violent hatred between him and his -father always existed is well known. That Eustace Trevor's feelings in -this respect (feelings which it is to be confessed were not without some -foundation) after his mother's death amounted to frenzy, as it is easy -with his excitable disposition to believe. His violence must indeed have -been extreme, for I know from good authority, that it has been -impossible ever since to mention his eldest son's name in Uncle Trevor's -presence, without sending the old man almost into convulsions. For peace -and grief's sake alone, Eugene might have found it necessary to have his -brother removed from the house, especially when sanctioned, as of course -the action must have been, by medical certificates; at any rate, it is -only charitable to suppose error--rather than malice deliberate and -propense--to have been the origin of the proceeding." - -Mary's eyes were by this time lifted up in anxious attention. - -"Yes, yes," she murmured, with clasped hands and agitated fervour; -"convince me it were _error_, and I should be thankful--oh, how thankful -to cherish the idea; but vain, vain will be the endeavour to reason me -into the persuasion that anything short of the most generous -misconception could have justified any such proceeding with regard to -Eustace Trevor, as the cruel course which was pursued against him; and -oh, Olivia, I wonder at you--a woman--advocating such a cause." - -Then pressing her hand wearily across her brow, as if she felt the -overpowering influence of the dark bewildering theme which had taken -such painful hold of her imagination. - -Mrs. de Burgh lay back upon her sofa, and was silent. She felt herself -getting into deeper waters than she had power or ability to struggle -with. She had been persuaded to use all her rhetoric, into arguing a -serious but gentle-minded girl into marrying a man, towards whom time -and experience had much shaken her estimation. - -To sift so particularly a matter, the wrongs and rights of which she -had, like the world in general, been contented to take for so many years -on credit, she was not prepared; and Mary's rebuke chafed her spirit, -and changed in a manner the current of her thoughts. - -"How very disagreeable it would be for Eugene, if his brother should -ever come forward, claiming rights, of which he had been dispossessed by -his brother, under false pretences--" and the fair lady was beginning, -for the first time, seriously to agitate her mind with these -reflections, when the door softly opened, and Eugene Trevor himself made -his appearance. - -One uneasy glance directed towards Mary, as if to see how she would take -the intrusion; a slight movement of her shoulders, as she met the look -of anxious inquiry which Eugene Trevor fixed upon her, seeming to -express: "I have done my best--you must now try for yourself--" and Mrs. -de Burgh took up her work and applied herself to it assiduously. Eugene -Trevor said something not very coherent about his horse not being ready -and seated himself a little behind Mary's chair, who had seemed more by -feeling than by sight to be aware of her lover's entrance; for she had -not lifted up her downcast eyes, fixed so drearily on the fire. And now -only a scarce perceptible shudder and more rigid immovability seemed to -announce the knowledge of his proximity. - -"Mary is very tired," observed Mrs. de Burgh, glancing up from her work. - -Eugene bent gently forward, and looked with earnest solicitude into -Mary's face. He did not speak, but volumes could not have expressed more -than the silent concentrated fervour of those dark, passionate eyes. - -It was impossible not to feel in some degree their power, though the -influence which had enthralled her soul in other days, was gone; or -remained, to use that most hackneyed of all similes, only as the power -of the repellant rattlesnake. - -Painfully she turned away her head, whilst the hand of which Eugene -gently had managed to possess himself, struggled to free itself from his -hold. Probably, Mrs. de Burgh conceived, from all appearance, that this -was the momentous crisis which it was her duty to make another effort -to assist. - -She had a little piano-forte in her dressing-room, removed there to -while away the hours of her confinement to its precincts; and she -contrived, without disturbing her companions, to wheel her light sofa in -the right direction. She then arranged herself in a moment before the -instrument, and saying, playfully, "Mary, my dear, you shall have some -of your favourite songs to cheer you up a little," she struck the -chords, and without waiting for further encouragement or reply, began to -sing--perhaps by accident, but more probably by design--her choice -falling upon those plaintive songs and ballads with which she delighted -Mary that first evening, more than four years ago, of her last visit to -Silverton. That night on which her fair hostess was always pleased to -consider the magic of her own sweet singing had in no slight degree -contributed to weave the fatal spell, whose broken charm it was now so -much her object to renew. What better could she do for Eugene's -interest, than try this method of enchantment once again? - -And could Mary listen, and her susceptible soul not be touched by the -memories and associations which must be naturally awakened? Could she -sit by Eugene's side, and not be carried back in softened fancy to the -time--that time to use the impassioned language of the poet-- - - "When full of blissful sighs - They sat and gazed into each other's eyes, - Silent and happy, as if God had given - Nought else worth looking on this side of heaven." - -Alas! for the spell so irremediably broken, that not even this sweet and -subtlest of all human influences can restore. - -Mary's soul was stirred indeed within her, but it was with very -different emotions than those which were intended to be produced; above -all was her heart swelling within her, with wounded, more than indignant -feelings, against the pretended friend who had thus made her the -unsuspected victim of an unworthy plot. - -Therefore the soft music rather seemed to irritate, than to soothe her -jarred and shaken nerves--the words of thrilling pathos, which the -strain for the most part conveyed, to sound in mocking accents on her -ear. - - "The sunshine of my life is in those eyes, - And when thou leav'st me, all is dark within." - -What to her could such words be, but mockery; when now, alone "the image -of a wicked, heinous fault lived in the eye," which once, indeed, had -seemed too powerfully to absorb the whole sunshine of her life. - -But still she sat there, pale, spiritless, and subdued, as if some spell -still bound her, she had not energy to break, however unwillingly she -yielded herself to its sway. Sat--till from silent looks, it seemed that -Eugene, perhaps encouraged by her passive conduct, began again to urge -in low and pleading tones his anxious suit, his father's earnest wishes -on the subject--his own broken-hearted despair. Then, it seems, her -passive trance had given way, for very soon after, when Mrs. de Burgh, -warned by the sound of Eugene's voice, that matters were taking a more -decisive and particular character, had begun to strike the chords with -considerately proportioned force, she was startled by hearing Mary's low -voice close behind her, announcing, in accents tremulous with agitation, -her intention of immediately retiring to bed. - -The sweet sounds were abruptly suspended; the performer looking up, -said, with cheerful _insouciance_ which she did not exactly feel, for -she was rather disappointed at this ominous sign of the destruction of -her hopes that affairs were taking a more favourable turn: - -"Yes, dear Mary, certainly, you shall go directly. I forgot that you had -had so fatiguing a journey." - -Then glanced uneasily round to see how it went with the other party -concerned. - -Eugene Trevor had approached the window, and having, with impetuous -hand, drawn aside the curtain, threw open the shutter, and looked out, -as if to ascertain the aspect of the night. - -"By Jove, dark as pitch," he murmured moodily; then looking back, cried -with a kind of reckless laugh, "Olivia you must keep me here to-night, I -think, if you have the least regard for my neck." - -Mrs. de Burgh glanced towards the window. - -"Is it so very dark?" she asked, evasively. - -"Dark--not a star to be seen--but--what in the name of fortune, is that -strange sudden light yonder?" - -Mrs. de Burgh again glanced towards the window, but from the position of -her seat could not gain sight of anything but the thick impenetrable -darkness. Mary, however, standing with the candle she had taken up in -her trembling hand, mechanically turned her eyes in the direction -indicated. They were, indeed, immediately attracted by a red glare, -which, rendered more conspicuous by the surrounding blackness, -illuminated the distant sky opposite, just across the twelve miles of -flat country separating Silverton from that wooded rise, which had so -often rivetted her interested gaze, as marking the neighbouring site of -Montrevor. - -But it must have been a meteorical appearance which had produced the -transitory effect, for even as she gazed it seemed to have faded from -her sight--or rather, she observed it no more--saw nothing but the dark -eye of Eugene Trevor flashing upon her with a lurid glaze, which in the -troubled confusion of her ideas seemed in some way confounded with this -late aspect of the sky. - - "Sullenly fierce, a mixture dire, - Like thunder clouds, half gloom, half fire." - -She turned away, lighting her candle with unsteady hand. - -"Good night, Olivia," she said gravely. - -Mrs. de Burgh held out her hand. - -"Good night, Mary. I hope you will sleep well, and be better to-morrow." - -By a faint, cold smile, Mary alone acknowledged the kindness of the -desire. She was turning silently away, but something seemed to come over -her spirit--a chill--a pang--a sinking at the heart--such as those must -feel who, be the circumstances what they may, have torn thus away the -last link of that broken chain which once, alas! so fondly bound them. - -She paused, her softened glance directed towards Eugene. There was no -relenting, no wavering in the glance, nothing but a mournful interest, -sorrowful regret, offered up as it were, as a final tribute to the past. - -But it seemed not that Trevor was in a condition of mind to enter into -the spirit of this silent adieu. Throwing himself back upon a chair, -without appearing to notice it, and addressing himself to Mrs. de Burgh, -he exclaimed in a tone of almost insolent defiance: - -"Olivia, I must trouble you to order me a bed also. I shall not turn out -this dark night for any one." - -It was not so much the words, but the tone in which they were spoken, -which seemed to complete the work of disenchantment. The softness passed -from Mary's eyes, and her parting look, though still sorrowful, was -grave and firm, whilst in a voice, low, but full of dignified reserve, -she uttered the words "Good bye." - -Simple as was their emphasis, they were not to be mistaken. They seemed -to say "Good bye, Eugene, for whether you stay to-night, or go, you and -I meet not again." And then she slowly left the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - Suddenly rose from the South a light, as in autumn the blood red - Moon climbs the crystal walls of Heaven, and o'er the horizon, - Titan-like, stretches its hundred hands upon mountains and meadow, - Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows together. - - LONGFELLOW. - - - Why flames the far summit? why shoot to the blast, - Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? - 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven - From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of Heaven. - Oh crested Lochrel! the peerless in might, - - Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn; - Return to thy dwelling, all lonely, return, - For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood. - - CAMPBELL. - - -It was with a numbed and dreary sense of bruised and outraged feeling -that Mary--the last fibre of mistaken partiality torn from her -heart--the last atom of her false idol crumbled into dust, lay down upon -her bed that night. - -She had lain there perhaps an hour, when the loud ringing of the -hall-door aroused her from the state of dreamy stupor which was stealing -over her. - -Her first supposition was that her cousin Louis had returned. Then the -hasty-ascending footstep of the servant, the quick knocking at the door -of Mrs. de Burgh's dressing-room, from which the chamber appointed for -Mary was not far removed; the hasty communication then given, the loud -and agitated voice of Eugene in reply, his impetuous rush down stairs -and from the house--as the banging of the hall-door made her aware--led -her rather to conclude that some intelligence of peculiar importance, -perhaps relating to the illness of old Mr. Trevor, had been received -from Montrevor. - -The next moment Mrs. de Burgh's bell rang violently, and very soon after -her maid entered Mary's apartment, begging Miss Seaham to go immediately -to Mrs. de Burgh. - - * * * * * - -Montrevor was on fire! Mr. Eugene Trevor had been sent for. Mrs. de -Burgh was greatly agitated. - -Pale and horror-stricken, Mary hastened to obey the summons. She found -her cousin with her sofa pushed towards the window, gazing in strong -excitement on the red glare, now again plainly visible in the distance, -and so fearfully accounted for. - -"Gracious heavens, Mary, is not this terrible! the poor old place. -Eugene has gone off distracted, not knowing whether he will find the -whole house consumed; as for the wretched old man, God only knows what -has become of him! it did not seem that the messenger brought any sure -tidings of his safety. How dreadful if he were to perish in the flames!" - -"Dreadful, indeed!" murmured Mary; but she was no match for her cousin's -volubility. She sank down shivering by her side, her eyes fixed in -appalled bewilderment on the awful sign written in the heavens--sign, as -it were, of the judgment and fiery indignation which is to devour the -adversary. - -They sat there long intent upon the anxious watch, though little was to -be gleaned from that flickering and unconstant glare, now deepening, -now dying into comparative darkness, but that the fire was still in -existence. - -Mrs. de Burgh had ordered some of her servants to follow Eugene, and -render any assistance in their power; one was to return immediately with -intelligence. In the meantime she entreated Mary not to leave her, a -petition which poor Mary, in her present state of mind, was not inclined -to resist. - -Coffee was brought up to revive their strength and spirits, during the -two hours which at least must elapse before the messenger could arrive, -and wrapping Mary in a warm shawl, the weary interval of suspense passed -away as quickly as could be expected. It was over at last. The servant -returned. Mrs. de Burgh had him up to the dressing-room to hear the -account from his own lips. - -In a few words the man related, that one entire wing of the house had -been past recovery when the party arrived from Silverton, or before any -effectual assistance could be procured. It was the wing containing the -private library of Mr. Trevor; there it was supposed the fire had broken -out and made some way before discovered by the household. - -The catastrophe was supposed to have originated in some way from Mr. -Trevor, as he was missing in his own apartment; and it was feared that -he had perished in the flames, as he had been known to have some nights -before crept stealthily from his bed-room to the study. It did not -appear that any of the servants had been sufficiently courageous to -attempt his rescue, and of course now all hope of saving the unfortunate -old man was at an end, the flames having communicated with the adjoining -passages before the alarm was given, though even then Mr. Eugene Trevor -had seemed almost inclined to pierce the flames in that direction, so -great was his horror at the intelligence. - -Mrs. de Burgh at this awful communication fell into a fit of hysterical -weeping, whilst Mary, pale as death, speechless, tearless with emotion, -sat with her eyes raised and her hands clasped together. "Thoughts too -deep for tears" stirred up within her breast--thoughts of death, -judgment, and eternity. - -How terrible indeed the retribution which had fallen upon the head of -that sinful old man. How mighty and terrible the hand which might be -said to have taken up the cause of the oppressed, and stopped the way -of the ungodly! - - * * * * * - -Fearfully vivid was the light which guided Eugene Trevor on his course, -as like a demon of the night he dashed through the darkness--his -neighing, foaming steed bearing him far onward before the party -following him from Silverton. - -The conflagration lighted the country many miles around, and fierce was -the effort the distracted rider had to make to force the frightened -animal to proceed. - -When entering the grounds, the flames shone through the leafless trees -full upon his path, his dilated nostrils inhaled at every breath air -heated like a furnace; and bleeding, panting, trembling in every limb, -stopped short before the blazing pile. - -A shout from the spectators, now congregated in considerable numbers, -announced the anxiously expected arrival of Eugene Trevor. One second's -pause, as raising himself in his stirrups, he seemed in one wild, -hurried, desperate glance to review the fearful scene--then casting away -the reins and springing to the ground, called out in a hoarse loud -voice an inquiry for his father; but without waiting an answer--or -perhaps reading the full truth too plainly revealed on the countenances -of those around him--he darted forward, almost as the servant had -related (it might have appeared with the desperate impulse to attempt -even then the rescue of his father's remains); when, either repelled by -the violent heat or suddenly recalled to recollection, he staggered -back, struck his clenched hand wildly against his brow, and turned away -just as that part of the roofing gave way; the flames bursting out with -increasing fury necessitating a hasty retreat. The conflagration -presented altogether a scene of awful grandeur. Engines were playing on -the other extremity of the mansion, though little hopes of checking the -devastation were entertained. - -All the furniture and other valuable property which it had been possible -to rescue had been already removed, and now lay strewn out in the park -before the house; and there, a little aloof from the rest of the crowd, -with arms folded on his breast, stood Eugene Trevor watching the -progress of the demolition--the terrible glare distinctly revealing the -expression of dark despair settled in his glazed eyes and upturned -countenance. - -A few gentlemen of the neighbourhood were on the spot, but a feeling of -delicacy restrained them from intruding on the sufferer their sympathy -at that dreadful moment. - -The feelings of a man who stands beholding the house of his forefathers -burning before his eyes, with the fearful knowledge that a parent's -blackened corpse is consuming to ashes beneath the ruins, might seem -indeed to require no other consideration to render their harrowing -nature complete. But were these the subject matter of the thoughts which -pressed upon the soul of Eugene Trevor at that awful moment?--or had it -been the natural promptings of filial piety alone which at first had -impelled him to rush forwards in that fatal direction? - -Alas! no--rather must we fear it was the impulse of the man, goaded by -the consciousness that there too was consuming the papers on whose -existence all which he had staked his greedy soul to obtain, and the -destruction of which must be the total demolition of all his unrighteous -hopes and prospects, bring him to the feet of an injured and offended -brother, and prove, in short, his ruin. - - * * * * * - -The work of destruction continued unabated; portion after portion of the -burning mass gradually gave way; the roof of the large dining-room fell -in with a tremendous crash, and all the interior part of the mansion -being now destroyed, nothing remained but the mere skeleton of one of -the oldest, stateliest residences in the kingdom. - -By this time, Eugene Trevor had turned away, and exerted himself to -speak with the superior servants and superintendents of the estate; and -then the friends still lingering by, hesitated no longer to draw near. -They first shook hands in silent and sorrowful token of their sympathy -with the bereaved man, proceeding to press upon him invitations to -accompany them to their respective homes. Eugene received their advances -with as much calmness as could be expected; their hospitality, however, -he thankfully declined. - -If he went anywhere he had promised to return to Silverton, but his -presence would be required on the spot some time longer. After he had -seen to everything that remained to be done, he should probably go to -----, the town four miles distant. He had hurt his arm by approaching -too near the fire, and must have it looked at by a surgeon. - -His friends had too much consideration to urge him further, and having -received his repeated thanks, and assured them that they could not be of -any further assistance, they departed. - -The further proceedings of that night, or rather morning (for it was -about four o'clock) before the work of ruin was finally achieved, were, -as may be supposed, to seek for the remains of Mr. Trevor from amidst -the wreck of the fallen house. They were at length discovered. - -There they lay: the iron chests which lined the apartment, (once the -general library of the mansion, but long since monopolized by Mr. Trevor -for his especial use and purposes)--and which alone remained of -everything belonging to it, testified to its identity. The existence of -these giving hopes of the security of its contents, caused a ray of -renovated hope to kindle on the countenance of Eugene Trevor, who -superintended the investigation in person. - -But the hope was but transitory. The position of the blackened bones -indicating his father's remains, plainly betokened the vicinity of the -miser to the old oak _bureau_, at the time of his dreadful death: of -that receptacle, of course, nothing now remained but the iron bends -which had once so jealously secured its contents, and the blackened -ashes of paper in considerable quantity; rendering it still more -probable that the horrible catastrophe had originated through their -means--namely, that the wretched old man had set some of them on fire -during their examination; indeed, within the fleshless hand of the -miser, clutched doubtless in his dying agony, there still remained a -scorched fragment of parchment, upon which the eager eyes of his son -still deciphered a word or two, which at once told him his fate was -decided; that it was the unrighteous will on which his future fortunes -so strongly depended, the last atom of which, miraculously preserved, he -now beheld. - - * * * * * - -A few moments more, and Eugene Trevor turned his back upon the smoking -ruins of his home; and soon, in the hateful light of morning, with bent -brow and livid cheek, was riding away to ----, with feelings at his -heart it would be indeed but a futile endeavour to describe. - -With the guilty woe of him who ponders over a well-merited fate--a -serpent wound around the heart, stinging its every thought to -strife--can alone perhaps suggest a fit comparison, when applied to the -state of a man's mind under circumstances like the present. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - Away, come down from your tribunal seats; - Put off your robes of state, and let your mien - Be pale and humbled. - - -Mr. de Burgh was in the north of England when he received news of the -destruction of Montrevor, by means both of the public papers and a few -hurried lines from his wife. - -He had been contemplating at the time a speedy return; but this dreadful -intelligence hastened his movements, and three days after the fire he -arrived at Silverton. - -Mr. de Burgh did not see Mary at first. The unrest and agitation of mind -under which for some time she had been suffering, brought to a climax by -the shock this last dire event had occasioned, produced its physical -effect, a kind of low nervous fever, now confined her to her bed. - -Her cousin Louis was surprised to hear of Mary's being at Silverton, -Mrs. de Burgh having slightly mentioned the fact in her hurried letter -to him; nor did she consider it at all necessary to enlighten her -husband as to the cause and circumstances of her visit when on the night -of his return, Mr. de Burgh commented somewhat sarcastically on the -subject. - -"Yes, Mary was very kind to come to me, when I told her of my accident -and loneliness--indeed I do not see in the least why she should not have -come," Mrs. de Burgh remarked. - -"Nor I either, if she likes it," he answered drily--"at any rate this -fire will bring matters to a crisis both as regards her affair with -Eugene Trevor, as it will also a few others." - -"Of course you will go and see after poor Eugene to-morrow, and try and -persuade him to come here." - -"Of course--but as to coming to stay here, I am pretty well persuaded -that Eugene Trevor will have too much on his mind just now to think of -visiting any where. I shall be curious to know how things will turn -out." - -"Oh, of course my poor uncle left Eugene all the money," Mrs. de Burgh -said. - -"Most probably, all his immense savings, but you know the estates are -strictly entailed." - -"Yes ...," was the answer, with some hesitation; "but if Eustace Trevor -does not make his appearance." - -"That will not alter the entail whilst he is alive, and every exertion -will be made which can lead to his discovery, if his father's death does -not, indeed, as there is every likelihood, make him come forward of -himself." - -"But if he is mad?" - -"Pshaw!" was the only reply deigned by Mr. de Burgh, with the expression -of indignant incredulity, which any such allusion always excited in him. - -Mrs. de Burgh was silent for a few moments, but there was a very -significant display of intelligence visible on her countenance. - -The fact was, that she was inwardly struggling between a very womanly -desire to let out the secret of which she was in possession, and the -unwillingness she felt to gratify her husband by the communication of -Eugene's rejection by Mary--also she felt some hesitating repugnance to -relate the particulars concerning the identity of the lost Eustace -Trevor with Mr. Temple, the esteemed and beloved friend of all the -Seaham family. But then her silence would but for a few hours postpone -the intelligence--the truth would be revealed by Mary on the first -opportunity, if it transpired not through other means. So at length, -after keeping it fluttering for some time on the tip of her undecided -tongue, the final plunge was taken, some mysteriously oracular words -were spoken, which excited Mr. de Burgh's curiosity, and led to the full -and final developement of the whole story of "Mr. Temple," and every -particular relating to him as received from Mary. The surprise and -interest of Mr. de Burgh at this communication, was of course extreme. -He was much excited, walking about the room and questioning his wife -over and over again on the subject, whilst she having once broken the -ice scrupled not to afford him every satisfaction in her power--nay, -taxing her imagination and ingenuity to make the romantic story even -more extraordinary than it really was. - -The following morning Mr. de Burgh rode off immediately after breakfast -for the town of ----, and on his return late that afternoon desired to -see Mary, and though Mrs. de Burgh objected that she was not fit for -any exciting conversation--that she was very weak and ill, so much so, -that she was going to write to Arthur Seaham to come to Silverton as -soon as it was possible--Mr. de Burgh persisted on its being a matter of -importance, the more so when he heard, that, on that very morning Mary -had received a foreign letter, which Mrs. de Burgh supposed was from her -friend the clergyman, the companion of Eustace Trevor, though she had -not as yet alluded to its contents, which seemed nevertheless to have -considerably affected Mary. - -Mr. de Burgh was, therefore, in the course of the evening, taken to -Mary's room, where she was lying on the sofa ready to receive her -cousin, for whose visit she had been previously prepared. - -The interview lasted some time--when Mr. de Burgh left the room, he -immediately sat down and wrote a note, which he dispatched without -delay. It was, he afterwards told Mrs. de Burgh, when she could induce -him to satisfy her curiosity, to the lawyer concerned in the management -of the Trevor affairs, whom he had seen that day. He had just written -to inform him where Eustace Trevor was to be found, it being proposed -to send a special messenger abroad to summon him to England, in order to -take possession of his inheritance. - -"No will of any kind having been found in existence, Eustace Trevor -comes of course into undisputed possession of the property and estates, -both entailed and unentailed, that is to say," added Mr. de Burgh, with -something of sarcastic triumph in his tone, "if he is found in a fit -state of mind to enter upon his rights." - -"And poor Eugene," demanded Mrs. de Burgh, bitterly. - -"Eugene, I did not see," answered her husband; "a hurt he received the -night of the fire, it seems, was inclining to inflammation, and he was -ordered to keep quiet; at least, he would not see me when I called at -the inn. The lawyer tells me he seems suffering much anxiety and -distress of mind; no wonder, for from what I hear, it will go hard with -him, if he finds not a generous and forgiving brother in Eustace Trevor; -his ten thousand pounds, the portion secured by the marriage settlement -to the younger children, will be but a poor set off against the immense -expectations on which he had speculated so securely." - -"You are very ungenerous and unkind to speak in that way of a fallen -man; I hope Mary does not enter into your sentiments, I am sure I shall -always stand up for Eugene." - -"Oh, no doubt, through thick and thin," was the rather sneering reply, -"unkind indeed, I should say, it was cruel kindness 'that the wrong from -right defends;' as for Mary, I am glad to find that she has for some -time not been quite the blindly obstinate and deluded person I had began -regretfully to esteem her, that her infatuation has long since been -giving way before the evidences of truth and reason--yes, her charity in -the point in question is rather more honourable to her character than -that which you profess; there being an old proverb I have somewhere -read, which says: 'Charity is an angel when it rejoices in the truth; -but (something with a very different name) when it embraces that, which -it should only pity and weep over.'" - -Tears, indeed; the tears of many mingled and conflicting feelings were -trickling through the pale fingers clasped over Mary's aching eyes when -left alone by her cousin. The letter that morning received from Mr. -Wynne, the superscription of which had been noted down by Mr. de Burgh, -held tight in her other hand; that letter, which indeed contained such -fearful testimony to the truth of Jane Marryott's story, and all she had -heard assigned against him, whom she had once so blindly and ignorantly -worshipped. Mr. Wynne related succinctly the whole story of Eustace -Trevor's wrongs, as confided by his own lips on his first arrival in -Wales. This Mr. Wynne had taken on himself to do unauthorized by his -friend; it was all, indeed, which Mary's letter seemed purposed to -effect--her own communication of having entirely broken off her -engagement with Eugene Trevor, only rendering more wholly out of the -question the execution of the step she had so urged upon Eugene's -brother. - -For her own sake, for her preservation from a fate he so deprecated on -her account--he had promised to sacrifice his own interest--to take no -step likely to lead to the well-merited discomfiture and disturbance of -his brother, or an exposure of the past. The point on which the -agreement turned had now been established. He would not too closely -inquire by what means, and in what manner; but the promise he must still -consider binding on his part, a promise but too much in unison with the -solemn determination of his aggrieved and wounded spirit when last he -quitted his father's house, never again to seek a son or brother's place -within those dishonoured walls. This had been the substance of Mr. -Wynne's letter. How changed the aspect of affairs since the period when -it had been penned. How mighty the hand, and by what terrible means had -been effected, that which her weak influence had attempted to achieve! - -It might, indeed, be called an instance in which the still small voice -must fail, but the power of the all mighty one be heard in the fire. - -And now, all the past--the strange position in which she stood--the -circumstances in which she had become involved, passed before Mary's -mind's eye as in a bewildering dream--confused and conflicting feelings -she could scarcely divide from one another, troubling her enfeebled -spirits; till, at length, those relieving drops had flowed, and prayers -mingled with those tears to the all wise and the all merciful disposer -of events, in whom she trusted. - - * * * * * - -It must not be supposed that Eustace Trevor had been unmoved by the -urgent appeal conveyed in Mary's letter; that the words she had written, -the argument she had used, had unimpressed him with their justice and -their truth. They brought to his recollection the words of the psalm -sung that afternoon in the little church of Ll---- by the simple village -choir, when first the fair face of Mary Seaham had cast its softening -spell upon his frowning destiny--those words which had even then struck -upon his fancy as strikingly applicable to his own strange case, and -which from Mary's low sweet voice had thrilled like an angel's soft -rebuke upon his ear. - - "Since I have placed my trust in God - A refuge always nigh, - Why should I, like a timorous bird, - To yonder mountain fly." - -But erroneous as might have been the cause of action, crooked the path -he had been morbidly driven to pursue; innumerable causes seemed now to -oppose the conduct that angel-like minister with unworldly and too -prevailing voice now urged him to pursue. No, for the present let it -suffice that she was saved from a fate, which apart from all selfish -feelings, he feared for her worse than death; for the rest, matters must -take their natural course, work out their own intended end, swayed by -the hand which ruleth the universe--much more the affairs of the sons of -men; for neither to blind chance, or what men call fate, did Eustace -Trevor commit his ways. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - My gentle lad, what is't you read - Romance or fairy fable? - Or is it some historic page - Of kings and crowns unstable? - The young boy gave an upward glare: - "It is the death of Abel!" - - HOOD. - - -It was about ten days after the event recorded in the last chapter, that -Mary Seaham, for the first time since her illness, came down stairs; and -wearied by the exertion, and left comparatively alone--for Mrs. de Burgh -was driving with her little girl, and Mr. de Burgh, and her brother--who -had arrived to take his sister away as soon as she was sufficiently -strong enough to move--were also from home; only the quiet, eldest boy -remained to keep her company. - -She was lying late in the afternoon upon the drawing-room sofa, the -effects of her still lingering weakness causing a dreamy feeling of -weariness to creep over her. Struggling with the sensation, and wishing -to arouse herself, she now and then opened her languid eyes, and spoke -to her little companion, who sat so seriously at the foot of the couch, -amusing himself with the book upon his knee--his favourite book of -scripture prints and stories. - -He was an interesting and peculiar child, very unlike the girl, who had -all the _eveillé_, excitable disposition of her mother--or the -high-spirited, most beautiful child, the youngest boy, of whom his -parents were so proud and fond. - -"What are you reading, Charlie?" Mary inquired. - -"About Cain and Abel. Here is the picture of Cain, that dark, bad man, -who hated his brother Abel," the child replied. - -"And why did he hate him, Charlie?" - -"Because his brother's works were good, and his were evil." - -"It is very dreadful not to love one's brother. Always love your's, -Charlie," Mary said mournfully. - -"I do love him," the boy answered with simple earnestness, lifting up -his expressive eyes to his gentle monitor's face; "and look," he -continued, sidling closer to her side, "here are two other brothers, who -once did not love one another; and one was obliged to go and live for a -great many years in a far-off country; but see here, he is returned, and -the brothers have forgiven one another; and," continuing in the words of -the scripture explanation written in the page, "'Esau ran to meet him, -and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept.' -That is a nicer picture, Mary, than that of Cain and Abel, for Abel -there is dead, and Cain can never be forgiven; but must wander about the -earth with a mark upon his forehead, lest people should kill him; but -Jacob and Esau might be friends on earth, and meet again in heaven." - -Mary placed her hand fondly and gratefully on the head of her dear -little expositor. A tear of happier feeling trembling amidst the lashes -of her drooping eyelids, than had gushed for many a day from her -perplexed and troubled spirit, for she thought of two other brothers, -who, through the mercy of God, were still spared on earth--the one to -forgive, the other to be forgiven; and a calm, peaceful, expression -stole over the sweet countenance whose placid serenity distressing -thoughts had of late so sadly disturbed, till at length, as Charlie went -on to read to her, at full, the history, as he said, "of another -brother--the best brother of all." "Even Joseph, who was sold for a -servant, whose feet they hurt in the stocks, who was laid in irons, -until the time came that he was delivered, the word of the Lord tried -him;" but who yet, when his brothers were brought to bow down before -him, he spoke kindly to them, even to those who had done him such -grievous wrong, and kissed them, and wept over them, and made them as -rich and happy as he could--the soft monotony of the child's voice -lulled her senses to repose; and with that glittering tear still -moistening her drooping lashes, and a smile, sweet and innocent as might -have been that of the child by her side, she peacefully slept. - -The boy's voice then sunk to a whisper, and so absorbed was he in his -interesting task, and the carpet of the saloon so thick and soft, that -he perceived or heard nothing till a darkening shadow fell upon his -book. - -Then he quietly lifted up his serious eyes, and beheld a tall stranger -gentleman standing at a little distance before him. But the stranger -was not looking at him, the little boy: his full, dark eyes were bent -with earnest intensity upon the sleeping Mary, who, as she lay there -with that still serenity of brow, that look almost of child-like -innocence which sleep, like death, sometimes brings back to the -countenance, might have well suggested to the recollection of the gazer -these beautiful lines of Mrs. Hemans, "The Sleeper:" - - "Oh lightly, lightly tread, - Revere the pale still brow, - The meekly drooping head, - The long hair's willowy flow. - - "Ye know not what ye do, - That call the slumberer back - From the world unseen by you, - Unto life's dim, faded track. - - "Her soul is far away - In her childhood's land perchance, - Where her young sisters play, - Where shines her brother's glance. - - "Some old sweet native sound, - Her spirit haply weaves; - A harmony profound, - Of woods with all their leaves. - - "A murmur of the sea, - A laughing tone of streams; - Long may her sojourn be - In the music land of dreams." - -The stranger's rivetted regard seemed to attract the young Charlie's -also, for he now turned his eyes upon the slumberer, and then, as if -equally attracted by the angelic sweetness of her expression at that -moment, or wishing to demonstrate to the intruder the privileged -position he held with respect to the object of their joint attention, he -slid still nearer to Mary's pillow, and gently kissed her cheek; then, -again looking up, something remarkable in the stranger's mien and -countenance--something mournful and tender, yet altogether more noble -and beautiful than he had perhaps ever seen before upon the face of man, -seemed to inspire favour and confidence in his innocent breast; for the -little fellow smiled benignantly and trustfully, as, holding out his -hand, he said softly: - -"And you may kiss her too, if you like; but very gently: you must not -wake her, she has been so ill, poor thing!" - -At these words his listener started, dropped the little hand he had -kindly taken, the crimson blood suffusing his brow. He cast one hurried -glance on the object of their conversation, then with irresolute -quietness turned away, and paced the room with hushed but rapid steps, -as if to calm some sudden storm of troubled feeling, the boy's -innocently spoken words had awakened in his breast. - -When next he paused before the couch, the deep flush had passed away, -leaving his countenance paler than before, though calmer and more -composed; and smiling kindly upon the watchful child, as if to promise -him that his injunctions should not be disregarded, he reverently -stooped, and "very gently," as the boy had enjoined, touched with his -lips the fair white hand which drooped by Mary's side; and when again he -raised his head, the wondering child perceived a tear glistening in the -tall, pale stranger's eye. And no wonder if the heart of Eustace Trevor -swelled with peculiar emotion at that moment! The last time his lips had -pressed the form of woman it had been in that kiss of agony, in "that -last kiss which never was the last," which, in his strong despair and -mighty anguish, he had imprinted on the cold, cold brow of his mother, -ere they hid her from his sight for ever!--his then only beloved on -earth, with whom all the light and hope of his existence would be -quenched for ever! - -And must he not now turn away from her he had learnt since to love, with -a love such as he had thought never again to feel on earth?--from that -being, fair, and gentle, and good as the object of his soul's first -pure, faithful idolatry: she whose sleeping smile--cold, pale and -tranquil almost as that which had greeted his arrival that night of -never-to-be-forgotten misery--now welcomed the exile on his homeless, -hearthless, desolate return! - -Must he turn away, and never look on _her_--never look on Mary thus -again? Was it the last time, as it had been the first, that he should -ever dare to press that dear hand as now he had done? Nay, more--must he -see it given to another?--would he be called upon to crown the measure -of that generous mercy with which he had come, his heart overflowing--by -withdrawing the restraining hand he had, for the few last years, held -between his unnatural enemy, and that innocent object of his enemy's -covetous affections? Was he to be called upon--yes, perhaps by Mary -herself--to abstain from his threatened exposure of the past, and stand -from between Eugene and herself?--now, in his hour of triumph, to be -merciful, generous and forgiving in this also? - -For why else did he see her here?--why, if the purport of her letter -still held good, that she had bade adieu--cancelled for ever her -engagement with her former lover? Why, then, was she here, in the very -place where she had first fallen into this dangerous snare? - -Ah, no!--he saw it all too plainly! Impelled by the impulse of a woman's -mistaken, but generous devotion, her lover's fallen fortunes, whilst -engaging her pity, had redeemed his offences in her eyes, and recalled -her alienated affections; that she was here, like a ministering angel, -to assure him of this--to console him, to sympathize; perhaps to ward -off, by her intercession, the disgrace and ruin to which his injured -brother's dreaded coming threatened to overwhelm the object of her -solicitude. - -But he had no time to dwell on these things. There had been something in -his touch, light as it had been, which proved sufficient to break the -charm of slumber. Mary slowly unclosed her eyes, and murmuring: - -"Are you there, Charlie?" looked up and beheld her new companion. One -uncertain bewildered gaze she fixed upon his face, then gliding to her -feet cried: "Mr. Trevor, are you really come?" and burst into tears. - -"Yes, Miss Seaham, I am come," was the reply, in a voice trembling with -emotion; and taking the hands she had extended towards him, gently -reseated her on the sofa, and sat down by her side, looking with earnest -mournfulness in her face. - -"Yes, I am come, and thank you for this feeling welcome, which is but -too much required, for you may well imagine what a coming, one such as -mine must be." - -"Yes, yes," she murmured through her fast falling tears; "I know, I feel -it must be a fearful trial; your father's dreadful death, the melancholy -destruction of your home. But--but, Mr. Trevor, it is the hand of the -Almighty--His great and terrible hand--we must look upon it as such; -and," lifting up her streaming eyes, "hope for His loving-mercies to -shine forth once again. There has been much of dark and terrible in the -past, but let us pray that the future may atone. Yes, you have returned, -and all may still be right." - -"You think so," he replied gently, but still most mournfully; then -averting his face, added in low and sterner accents of interrogation: -"and my brother?" - -"He has been ill," was Mary's low reply, "suffering, it is to be feared, -as much from mental anxiety as from physical pain. Oh, Mr. Trevor, your -coming to him indeed must prove a relief--a relief from the worst of -sufferings--suspense." - -"What has he to fear?" demanded Eustace Trevor. - -"What? You will learn too soon the desperate nature of your brother's -position, unless, indeed, he finds in you one more generous and -forgiving than he has any right or reason to expect." - -Mary spoke earnestly, but with firmness, almost severity; and as she -uttered these last words Eustace Trevor turned and anxiously regarded -her. - -"Eugene need have no fears on any pecuniary account," he again repeated; -"he will find in me one who cannot set too low a value on that of which -he strove so hard to deprive me. Surely you, Miss Seaham, could not have -believed me capable of so poor and contemptible a spirit of revenge, as -to entertain any doubt or fear as regards my conduct in that respect?" - -"No, no," Mary replied, with trembling fervour; "I might have rested -well assured as to what must be the high and holy character of _your_ -revenge. 'If your enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink;' -and oh, Mr. Trevor, by so doing, coals of fire will indeed be heaped -upon your unhappy brother's head. But, alas! can _he_ suppose you -capable of such magnanimity--he of so different a spirit to your own?" - -There was a spirit in the mild eyes, a colour on the pale cheek turned -towards him, as she thus expressed herself, which caused a corresponding -glow to illumine the countenance of her listener, and with still greater -earnestness he regarded her. - -Mary turned away, bending her head over the boy, who had again drawn -caressingly to her side, whilst in low, faltering accents she replied -to his inquiries, whether she had come to Silverton since the fire? - -"No, the afternoon before it had occurred." - -"Had she seen his brother?" - -"She had, contrary to her cousin Olivia's promise, that so painful and -useless an ordeal should be spared her. She had found him at Silverton -on her arrival. It had been an interview most distressing and repugnant -to her feelings at the time, though the startling and terrible events, -which so closely succeeded, had in a great degree diverted her mind from -any selfish consideration. She had since then been very ill. Her illness -had detained her at Silverton, but this I shall not regret," she added. -"I shall now depart with the happy consciousness, which I have not -experienced for the last few years, that all is right which has been for -long so very wrong, my mind relieved of its harassing weight of doubt, -darkness and perplexity." - -"Yes, your sense of disinterested justice may be satisfied; but your -heart, will it remain equally so? The cause which you have so generously -espoused, established; will not other feelings re-assert their power, -and my brother again triumph in the possession of that which, to call -my own, I would gladly have cast at his feet the richest inheritance on -earth?" - -These words were uttered with almost breathless agitation. - -"No," was the reply in a voice so low and trembling that the anxious -listener had to hold his breath to catch its accents; "such feelings -have long been destroyed, and can never re-assert their influence. Even -pity is done away save for the wounded conscience, which he who once I -loved must carry with him through life; yes, pity even is now scarcely -to be excited; and love--can love survive esteem?" - -With a jealous, yearning glance Eustace Trevor watched the tears again -falling from the agitated speaker's eyes, kissed away by the -sympathising child; and then he rose and began again to pace the room as -if to stem some fresh torrent of inward emotion which stirred within his -breast. But at this juncture the door opened abruptly, and in another -moment Eustace Trevor's hand was clasped in Louis de Burgh's, who, -followed by Arthur Seaham, entered the room; and Mary, leaning on her -brother's arm, left the re-united friends together. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - Flesh and blood, - You brother mine, that entertained ambition, - Expelled remorse and nature, - - I do forgive thee, - Unnatural as thou art-- - Forgive thy rankest fault. - - TEMPEST. - -Arthur Seaham stood at the hall door two days after, looking out for the -carriage which was to convey himself and sister from Silverton, some -delay having been occasioned by the non-arrival of the post-horses. - -Suddenly a single horse's hoof was heard approaching, and he had but -just time to retreat out of observation, when Eugene Trevor rode up to -the door. - -Arthur Seaham could not but feel shocked at his altered appearance--his -haggard countenance, and the strong marks of mental suffering it -exhibited. His very form seemed bowed down by the sudden weight of care -and anxiety which had fallen upon him; and when, having dismounted, and -rang the bell, he stood there, whilst waiting for the servant to attend -the summons, unconscious of human regard, holding his horse's -rein;--there was something touching to the young man's kindly heart, in -the manner in which Eugene Trevor stroked the glossy mane of the noble -animal as it rubbed its head against his master's shoulder, looking up -affectionately into his face. - -The action seemed as expressively as words to say: - -"Poor fellow! it must go hard indeed with me before I can make up my -mind to part with you; in your eye, at least, is none of the suspicion -and distrust I plainly perceive in every other." And softened by this -touch of nature, and remembering the attachment to his sister--sincere -he believed at the time, which like a fair flower amongst noxious plants -had shewn his nature to be so capable of better things--a feeling of -regret was excited in Arthur Seaham's mind that that "root of all evil," -the promoter of "every foolish and hurtful lust--the love of money," -should ever have struck its baneful fibres in this man's heart. - - * * * * * - -Eugene Trevor had demanded a personal interview with his brother -previous to his departure for London, through the lawyer who for many -years had been the legal adviser of the family, and whom he still -retained on his own account. Eustace Trevor had deemed it expedient to -call in another man of business for himself. This person was now at -Silverton, with some of the necessary documents connected with the -property now devolving upon him; and Mr. de Burgh proposed the meeting -of the brothers should take place there. - -It was with perfect unconsciousness of what awaited her, that Mary -Seaham entered the library some few minutes after, in order to bid adieu -to her cousins, who, she had been told, were awaiting her there. - -She had closed the door behind her before perceiving her mistake, and -stood rooted to the spot with feelings the nature of which may be better -imagined than described, at finding herself at this critical moment in -the presence of the brothers--those two beings with whom her fate had -been so strangely, so intricately involved. - -Yes, there stood the one, with look and bearing almost like that said to -have distinguished man before the Fall: - - "Erect and tall--Godlike erect, with native honour clad, - Within whose looks divine the image of the glorious Maker shone, - Truth, wisdom, sanctitude, severe and pure. - - His fair large front and eye sublime"-- - -Irradiated with that attribute of God himself--a free and full -forgiveness of an enemy. - -And the other--with whom might his aspect at that moment suggest -comparison? Alas! we fear but to - - "That least erected spirit that fell - From Heaven; whose looks and thoughts even in Heaven - Were always downwards bent, admiring more - The riches of Heaven's pavement trodden gold, - Than aught divine or holy there." - -For as there he sat, even as he had done when suddenly confronted that -night with his offended, injured brother, in the room of the London -hotel, with bent brow and lowering eye, half defiance and half fear; so -now still more he seemed to shrink into abject nothingness before him, -abashed and confounded by the majestic power of goodness--the awful -loveliness of a virtuous and noble revenge. For a few grave, calm, but -gentle words from Eustace Trevor's lips had already set his anxious -fears at rest--had assured him that the well-merited ruin with which the -overthrow, so sudden and unlooked-for, of his unrighteous hopes and -machinations had threatened to overwhelm him, would be averted. - -And there stood Mary, pale and motionless. Whilst from one to another -wandered her distressed and startled glance, she yet saw and marked the -contrast; saw--and mourned in spirit that thus too late her eyes were -opened; that thus, for the first time, had been presented, side by side -to her enlightened perception, the brother whom in her deceived -imagination she had so blindly chosen--the one she had so ignorantly -refused. - -Yes, too late--for could she dare now to lift her eyes to own the full, -but tardy abnegation of every thought and feeling of her heart, as well -as understanding, to the noble being it had lost? - -Oh, no! for those two last days that they had passed under the same roof -together--in the same manner, as she had seemed to shrink, with timid, -lowly, self-abasement from the brother of her discarded lover, had -Eustace Trevor appeared almost equally to avoid any close communion with -that brother's alienated love. It was, therefore, influenced by these -considerations, that after her first astounded pause, feeling that it -was now impossible to retreat, and scarcely knowing what she did, Mary -approached the table over which Eugene Trevor had been leaning on her -entrance, but now had risen--holding out her hand, as her kindly heart -perhaps, under any circumstances, would have instinctively dictated -towards any being suffering under like vicissitude; but something in the -grasp which closed over it--a detaining grasp, such as that with which -the miser may be supposed to clasp some treasure on the point of making -itself wings to fly away, seemed to distress and perplex her. - -She turned with downcast eyes towards Eustace Trevor. His face, as she -had approached his brother, had been averted with an expression in -which, perhaps, was more of human weakness than it had before exhibited; -but now he turned again and gratefully received the other she extended, -in sign of parting, then as gently released it; and standing thus -between the brothers, all the noble self-forgetfulness of Mary's nature -seemed to revive within her. She felt that through her means the gulph -had further widened which kept them apart--that she had been the shadow -between their hearts, as now she stood in person--it was over now for -ever. She was to go from between them--from him towards whom her heart -had too late inclined, and from him from whom it had declined. Let her -last act be at least one more blest in its effects, than had been -hitherto her destiny to produce concerning them. - -With a smile, faint, sad, and tearful, such as might have seemed almost -to plead forgiveness from the one whom she ceased, and the one whom she -had learnt too late, to love, she again extended her hands, and with a -gentle movement joined those of the brothers together; then hurried from -the room. - -A few moments more, and Mr. de Burgh who was on his way to seek her had -conducted her to the carriage, and Arthur springing in by her side; once -more Mary Seaham was driven far away from Silverton. - -And the brothers--taken by surprise by Mary's abrupt departure, the eyes -of both had followed her from the room with an expression in which -emotion of no common kind was visible; then turned silently from one -another, only too anxious to be released from a situation, of which they -could not but mutually feel the increased delicacy and embarrassment; -the lawyers were summoned to their presence; and if a few minutes before -Eugene Trevor had pursued with wistful glance the retreating form of -Mary, the still more anxious brow and eager eye with which he might have -been seen soon after entering with those gentlemen into the discussion -of the settlement of his intricate affairs, plainly testified that for -him at least there was, as there had ever been closer affections twined -about his heart--deeper interests at stake than any that were connected -with that pale sad girl, who for so long had hovered like a redeeming -angel round his path, but who now turned away her light from him _for -ever_. - -Not so Eustace Trevor, as absent and inattentive he sat abstractedly by, -or paced with anxious steps the boundary of the library, joining only -when directly appealed to, or addressed, in the matters under -discussion. It was plainly apparent how light and trifling the weight he -attached to the heavy demand made under his sanction upon his generous -liberality. - -Only once he paused, and with more fixed attention looked upon his -brother with an expression in which something of noble contempt seemed -to curl his lip and to flash forth from his eye. - -Perhaps the part he saw him play on this occasion recalled to his -remembrance another scene of similar, yet contrary character, when he -had found that brother seated in the library of Montrevor, with as much -anxious avidity superintending arrangements of no such disinterested -nature as those of which he now so graspingly availed himself. - -But it was for a moment that any such invidious reminiscences retained -their place within that generous soul. Soon had they vanished, as they -came--the fire from his eye, the curl from his lip. And again Eustace -Trevor paced the room--and thought on Mary. - -A few months more, and Eugene Trevor, having settled his affairs to his -entire satisfaction--thanks to the most generous and forgiving of -brothers--had left England for the continent; and that same space of -time found Eustace Trevor established in the neighbourhood of Montrevor, -surrounded by admiring, and congratulating friends; superintending the -improvement of his property, and making arrangements for the erection of -a new mansion on the site of the one destroyed, but chiefly employed in -acts of charity and beneficence towards the hitherto neglected poor and -necessitous surrounding him, causing many a heart to sing for joy, who -for many a long year had prayed and sued in vain at the wealthy miser's -door. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - Alas! the maiden sighed since first - I said: 'Oh, fountain, read my doom.' - What vainest fancies have I nursed, - Of which I am myself the tomb! - - L. E. L. - - -It was a beautiful evening of that next summer year, and a large -family-party was assembled at Glan Pennant, now again inhabited by its -rightful owner, Arthur Seaham: the handsome dowry of his lovely bride, -Carrie Elliott, joined to the emolument derived from the rapid and -promising rise in his profession, having enabled him to take possession -of his much loved home on his marriage, about a twelve month since. - -Not only were Alice Gillespie and her family the guests of the young -couple; but Lady Everingham, their eldest sister, who had returned from -India, and the beautiful Selina, whose husband was shortly to follow, -was staying with their children at Plas-Glyn, with the Morgans; and no -evening passed without, as may be supposed, some reunion of this sort -taking place at one or the other of the neighbouring residences. But -there was one still wanting, on this present occasion, without whom such -gatherings could not be complete--one, regarded with a kind of peculiar -love by each there present, though by none, perhaps, with such especial -tenderness as by the young master and mistress of Glan Pennant; and ever -and anon the question as to when Mary would return, and what could have -kept her out so late, was heard repeated: the children of the party -going back to Plas-Glyn, sorrowful at not having been able to wish that -dear Aunt Mary good night. - -Some one, at length, remarked that Mr. Wynne had not been seen for the -last day or two. Arthur Seaham observed, in reply, that he had been -expecting a visitor, with whom he had been probably occupied; and he and -Carrie exchanged looks of some significance. - -Mary was not a partner in their secret understanding. Calmly, as was -her wont, she had been returning homeward, with the happy consciousness -that her presence that day had lighted up many a face with -sunshine--bound up by its consolation, many a wounded heart--that she -could lay her head on her pillow that night, and feel that she had -to-day lived to God, and to her fellow-creatures. - -And truly many a tongue blessed, and many an eye turned with love and -respect, as they looked upon that sweet pale face, returning slowly from -her wanderings amongst them. Mary knew she was expected home to tea, but -having turned a wistful eye towards her favourite hill, now all red and -glowing in the early sunset, finally began the ascent; and once more we -see her seated on that cool, quiet spot, her eye fixed on the same fair -scene she had viewed with such fond, but hopeful regret, on the evening -of her last departure from her mountain-home. And, oh! it was on such -occasions, when hours of languid ease returned like this she now -enjoyed, that Mary felt the urgent necessity of bracing up her mind and -nerves by a course of healthy action, by carrying out into practice the -lesson which the great trial of her early youth had taught -her--"Patience, abnegation of self, and devotion to others." For then -would she feel stealing over her senses the spirit of those days, when -she had walked the earth overshadowed by a dream. Yes, the spirit of her -dream had changed since last we followed Mary Seaham to this charmed -spot!--the shadows of hopes at that time vaguely cherished in her -breast, soon, to her sorrow, so wonderfully realized, had passed away -for ever, as their idol object had been torn from its shrine. - -And now this purer, nobler image, reared upon the crumbled image of the -former, engendered by no ideal dreams--no morbid fantasy, but which, by -the force of its own glorious strength and beauty, had won its victory -over her soul--must this be also doomed to perish--to fade away into a -haunting shadow of the past? - -Yes, Eustace Trevor must be to her as one dead--not absent!--the dream -be dissipated, for the hope was vain on which it was founded: vain--and -incompatible with the pure, calm hope it was now the desire of her heart -to aspire. - -Not very long, therefore, did Mary allow herself to indulge in the -beguiling luxury of her solitary repose; but remembering that there were -loving hearts at home awaiting her return, she aroused herself from the -spirit of reverie which was stealing over her, and waiting but to pluck -some few sprigs of the first white heath of the season, with one last, -lingering look on the fading beauties of the landscape, she rose and -turned to depart; but as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, - - "Still she stood with her lips apart, - And forgotten, the flowerets dropped from her fingers, - Whilst to her eyes and her cheeks, came the light and - The bloom of the morning." - -For it was no dream--no deluding vision of her imagination out of which -she was called to awake--a shadow indeed was upon her path, but it was -the form of Eustace Trevor, which in its noble reality stood before her! - - * * * * * - -The conversation which ensued was not so lengthened as that which had -taken place between Edward Temple and Mary Seaham, on that same spot -some six years ago; but need we say that its issue was of a very -different character, and that this time Eustace did not descend the -hill alone. - -Mr. Wynne was waiting at the gate of Glan Pennant, when at length the -stately figure of his friend, and leaning on his arm the fair and -fragile form of Mary, - - "The dew on the plaid, and the tear in her e'e," - -appeared in sight. - -Hastening to meet them, he wrung the hand of Mary with emotion, but bade -her go in fast and make the tea which had been waiting for her ever so -long--the water getting cold whilst she was after her old tricks, -dreaming on the hills; and Mary, with a grateful smile, having returned -the fervent pressure of her good old friend, in broken accents, promised -that she would dream no more. - -She was not indeed free from a deep debt of gratitude to Mr. Wynne, for -it was he who, it may be said, had formed the cementing link between the -fates of Mary Seaham and Eustace Trevor. - -Not that any such was wanting to maintain the strongly rooted attachment -of Eustace towards Mary. It was one which must ever have exerted a -sensible and indelible influence over his future life, as it had done -over the few last years of his past existence. But there were scruples -in his mind, the result perhaps of that extreme susceptibility -conspicuous in his character, on every point of delicacy or honour, -which restrained him from yielding himself to the delightful hope of -obtaining the beloved of his brother for his wife; and it was these -morbid scruples, as he deemed them, that Mr. Wynne had made every effort -to overcome, and that not so much by direct argument, as by bringing -before his friend's imagination the lovely picture of Mary's present -existence, finally declaring that, through the daily increasing -heavenliness of her life and conversation, she was growing so much too -good for this world, that they should not be allowed to retain her long -amongst them, did not some earthly tie of a very binding nature give her -some motive for interest here below; and there was one alone he felt -convinced could have that power--for that some secret grief, some sorrow -unspoken, unsuspected--some strongly crushed affection, lay at the -bottom of Mary Seaham's outwardly calm and patient demeanour, and this -in no way connected with the old delusion of her youth, her old friend -felt but too well assured. - -So on this hint it was that Eustace Trevor came--came with a heart all -yearning, tremulous tenderness and solicitude--and once more on the -Welsh hill-side, laid the hope and happiness of his future life at the -feet of Mary Seaham. - - * * * * * - -And the world--that part of it at least which had known of the -engagement subsisting between Mary and Eugene Trevor--might remark on -the singular and interesting circumstance of her union with the elder -brother; but as the general understanding had been, that through -Eugene's own fault his engagement had been dissolved, and his change of -position considerably altering that same charitable world's estimation -of the younger brother's character, there were few inclined to make any -invidious comment on the new arrangement, nor deem it anything but -one--most wise, fortunate, and just. - -There was, however, amongst Mary's friends, one who seemed inclined at -first to frown on the affair--Mrs. de Burgh was loth to the last to let -fall the weapons of defence she had always wielded in behalf of her old -favourite, and maintained, that if there was a law against a marriage -with two brothers, she considered consecutive attachment to each equally -to be repudiated. But as she could not well carry out the argument which -her husband so triumphantly derided, she in the end let the subject -drop; and finally, with as much kindly warmth as she had bestowed upon -the beloved of Eugene, received beneath her roof the bride of Eustace -Trevor. - - * * * * * - -As we are upon the subject, we might as well regretfully state, that -Silverton has never yet become quite the perfect seat of conjugal -felicity we would fain have left it, but that petty bickerings and -debates still occasionally desecrate its inner walls. - -Still we hope that, though there are no very conspicuous symptoms of -reform, the evil is somewhat on the decrease; that the fair Olivia, as -she grows older, steadies down in a degree her high-wrought expectations -and ideas; and her husband, in proportion, softens away his asperity and -selfish disregard, allowing his natural amiability of disposition to -have its own way towards his wife, as well as to the rest of the world. -Whilst, at the same time, was there not a mansion in the neighbourhood -where a perfect pattern of unity and godly love was exhibited, such as -put to shame every spirit of domestic strife which approached it? - -In fact, the prosperity of the de Burghs continues so unabated, so -little else do they find in life to ruffle the even tenor of their lot, -that if they do still indulge in a few domestic quarrels, it would seem -to be, that, preserved from every other exciting cause of trouble and -annoyance, it must be on the principle adopted by two little sisters of -our acquaintance, who, on being reproved for their continual squabbles -with one another, begged that they might not be deprived of this -privilege, saying that it would take from them their greatest amusement; -in short, be so very dull, if they were not allowed to quarrel. - -The Eustace Trevors first went abroad: there they revisited those scenes -they had last viewed together under such different auspices, but which -had been the period from which Mary dated the current of her fate to -have been turned--a purer, nobler image to have risen on the ruins of -the old; and Eustace Trevor--blessed beyond conception, finds himself in -the enjoyment of that most ambitioned privilege, the guide and guardian -of his Mary, beneath skies which seemed to grow still "fairer for her -sake." - -In about a year's time, they returned to England, where the new mansion -awaited their reception. The mansion had been rebuilt much on the same -plan as the other, only the position and arrangement of the library was -entirely altered. One room, as far as it were possible, had been -remodelled by Eustace after the fashion of the original--that one in -which at once his happiest and his most agonizing hours in that old home -might be said to have been spent. - -Mary did not tell her husband, as they sat together in the sunny window -of that apartment, the very afternoon of their arrival, what -associations were in her mind connected with that place. - -Eustace Trevor had had no personal communication with his brother since -they parted at Silverton. It is easier for the offended to forgive than -the offender to be forgiven, and no true reconcilement could ever heal -the wounds, which his injured brother's generous conduct had impressed -on Eugene's galled conscience. Besides, what sympathy could exist -between two natures so different? what intercourse be established -between two individuals whose course of conduct and habits of life were -so widely apart? - -What were Eugene Trevor's feelings when he heard of Mary Seaham's -marriage with his brother, we cannot exactly define; but that it placed -only a more decisive barrier between their personal intercourse, may be -imagined. He lived on his handsome younger brother's income of two -thousand a-year, in London; his brother having paid all his debts, and -thus added to his legitimate claim of ten thousand pounds to which alone -he was entitled. - -The brothers met occasionally in London; but Eugene never accepted any -invitation to visit Montrevor, nor was he scarcely heard of amongst his -former country friends. Even Silverton was deserted by him. - -Some say that the avaricious parsimony of his father is growing rapidly -upon him, and this and many other similarities of character and conduct -which year after year develop themselves, may well cause Mary gratefully -to rejoice that she was suffered before too late to redeem the error of -_her first mistaken choice_. - - -THE END. - - - 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 3 of 3, by -Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 3 OF 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 40407-8.txt or 40407-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/0/40407/ - -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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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/40407-8.zip b/40407-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 85e184c..0000000 --- a/40407-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/40407-h.zip b/40407-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4d0e36b..0000000 --- a/40407-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/40407-h/40407-h.htm b/40407-h/40407-h.htm index e6d237b..f2cdd5e 100644 --- a/40407-h/40407-h.htm +++ b/40407-h/40407-h.htm @@ -4,7 +4,7 @@ <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> <title> The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mary Seaham, Vol 3 of 3, by Mrs. Grey. @@ -182,46 +182,7 @@ table { </style> </head> <body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's Mary Seaham, Volume 3 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 3 of 3 - A Novel - -Author: Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -Release Date: August 4, 2012 [EBook #40407] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 3 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) - - - - - - -</pre> - +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40407 ***</div> <div class="figcenter"> <img src="images/tp3.jpg" alt=""/> @@ -924,7 +885,7 @@ results.</p> <p>Nothing had been seen or heard of Eugene Trevor by any of the family for the first month or two. He had been in London only at intervals, and he -had not opened any communication with his <i>fiancée</i>, till she—on coming +had not opened any communication with his <i>fiancée</i>, till she—on coming to London at the urgent solicitation of her sister Lady Morgan, who was not well—had a few days after her arrival, been surprised by a note from Mrs. de Burgh, whom she was not aware was even in town, begging her @@ -1161,7 +1122,7 @@ might be proud to worship as a lover."</p> <p>"Yes," interposed Mrs. de Burgh, "I suppose he was a very superior, delightful person; but I own he always appeared to me, even as a boy, a -little <i>tête monté</i>, so that it did not surprise me so very much when I +little <i>tête monté</i>, so that it did not surprise me so very much when I heard of the calamity which had befallen him. He was just the sort of person upon whose mind any strong excitement, or sudden shock would have had the like effect."</p> @@ -2537,7 +2498,7 @@ Trevor would have to appear to give his evidence.</p> <h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Un Dieu descend toujours pour dénouer le drame,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Un Dieu descend toujours pour dénouer le drame,<br /></span> <span class="i12">Toujours la Providence y veille et nous proclame<br /></span> <span class="i12">Cette justice occulte et ce divin ressort,<br /></span> <span class="i12">Qui fait jouer le temps et gouverne le sort.<br /></span> @@ -2802,7 +2763,7 @@ produced certificates from the medical attendants as to the dying condition of the real offender.</p> <p>To what further transpired, few, beyond those especially concerned in -the <i>éclaircissement</i>, paid any very particular attention; the general +the <i>éclaircissement</i>, paid any very particular attention; the general interest being now attracted towards the ex-prisoner, who, whilst listening with signs of strong emotion to the declaration of her innocence, had suddenly fainted, and was carried out of the court; and @@ -4266,7 +4227,7 @@ bosom."</p> <hr style="width: 45%;" /> <p>Arthur Seaham was obliged to go and prepare himself for the judge's -dinner, and Mary to exert herself during her <i>tête-à-tête</i> evening with +dinner, and Mary to exert herself during her <i>tête-à -tête</i> evening with Miss Elliott.</p> <p>The next day she was too ill to rise. Her maid was sent for, and with @@ -5861,7 +5822,7 @@ amusing himself with the book upon his knee—his favourite book of scripture prints and stories.</p> <p>He was an interesting and peculiar child, very unlike the girl, who had -all the <i>eveillé</i>, excitable disposition of her mother—or the +all the <i>eveillé</i>, excitable disposition of her mother—or the high-spirited, most beautiful child, the youngest boy, of whom his parents were so proud and fond.</p> @@ -6603,388 +6564,6 @@ Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street</p> <p class="center">[Transcriber's Note: Hyphen and spelling variations within each volume and between volumes left as printed.]</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Seaham, Volume 3 of 3, by -Elizabeth Caroline Grey - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY SEAHAM, VOLUME 3 OF 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 40407-h.htm or 40407-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/0/40407/ - -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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