"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 circ.u.mstances 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 a.s.sumed 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.