"Exactly; that is all I want, mother; tell him that I will work hard at that d--d bank for the next year--that I will make it up to him in some way--anything in the world; but if he does not let me have it, I must blow my brains out--that's all."
And the mother, sadly sighing over the ruinous course--ruinous as regarded his soul's welfare--in which her son had so early embarked--and she, without any power to influence or to restrain--left the room.
Mrs. Trevor entered the library with no willing step. She knew well how she should find her husband occupied, and the disagreeable nature of her mission was less repugnant to her feelings than the pain which would most probably be in store for her in her other son's behalf.
And here indeed she did find her Eustace undergoing a more torturing mental ordeal than that of the physical chastisement to which she had on a former occasion seen him exposed in that same apartment; his noble, generous spirit goaded almost beyond the power of endurance, as compelled to sit there before his father, and submit to the most close, exact, and grinding examination of every detail and minutiæ of his last year's expenses, a process accompanied, as was every item of the amount, with the most bitter and angry comments on his so-called profligacy and extravagance--the galling and degrading nature of which ordeal every young man, blameless and well-principled as he may be, will be able fully to appreciate.
The mother cast an involuntary glance of tender concern upon the victim, and then approached her husband.
"Well, Madam, are you too come to assist me in this delightful business?"
"No, Mr. Trevor," in a trembling voice. "I have come to speak to you upon another subject--about Eugene."
"Eugene! what in the world have you got to say about him?"
"He has returned home in much distress; he has been unfortunate, and requires your assistance, though at the same time is fearful of your displeasure."
"The devil he is! well, I am a happy individual. Have I not enough on my hands already," with a vindictive glance at Eustace, "without being bored in this fresh quarter? I suppose he wants his allowance advanced; but be so good as to tell him, Madam, that until I have finished the delectable business in which I am engaged, he must please to wait. What the deuce did he come running down here for, wasting his time and my money. A letter, I should think, would have answered his purpose; really, one would suppose I was made of millions."