"Pshaw!" the young man exclaimed, as he threw himself down on a chair, "one must not mind him just now, poor fellow, he is quite distracted."
"I should say so, indeed," sneered the woman significantly.
"But he will not come here, I hope," continued Mr. Trevor, anxiously. "I desire that he is not allowed to come near me. I cannot, I will not see him!"
"No fear of that, Sir," answered the son coldly; "he is not very likely to trouble _you_ with his presence."
"Well, well, that's all right; let him rave as much as he likes out of my sight. And now give me a drop of brandy, Marryott, and stir up the fire gently, only just gently. It's very cold."
And the victim of conscience cowered and shivered over the scanty flame thus excited.
"Eugene, stay!" he continued, "don't you go; I don't like to be left, and there's so much business to be talked over, such trouble and expense." And the miser set about to calculate grudgingly the cost of his wife's funeral.
Oh, lie not down, poor mourner, On the cold earth in despair; Why give the grave thy homage? Does the spirit moulder there? Cling to the Cross, thou lone one, For it hath power to save. If the Christian's hope forsake thee, There's no hope beyond the grave.
If it be terrible to look upon the face of the beloved dead in the first hours of dissolution--
"Before decay's effacing finger Hath swept the cheek where beauty lingers,"
--what must it be when hour after hour, like the worm in the bud, the tyrant's power steals on its insiduous way, and we stand and gaze our last, and see and feel it _must_ be so!
Yet through all this, from which strong man so often shrinks, leaving to woman's exhaustless fidelity the sacred care and mournful duty to the departed, did Eustace Trevor--"Love mastering agony"--maintain his watch, never allowing himself to be persuaded to quit the precincts of that chamber, till that dreadful moment which was to cover from his eyes all that in this world was precious to his heart--till a day more dreadful still should arrive to force it to a close. Night followed day, and morning chased away the shadows of darkness; but day and night were both alike to the dimmed eyes--the stunned senses of the mourner. He never slept, and but sufficient of the food placed for him in the neighbouring room, as barely might preserve existence, ever passed his lips. He saw no one, but occasionally his brother, and an inferior domestic; no other dared approach him. Thus far he had triumphed.