He is the second born of flesh
And is his mother's favourite.
BYRON.
It was Eugene's birthday. He had coaxed Marryott to give him a treat of cakes and fruit in the garden summer-house. His brothers were invited, and even his father honoured the party with his presence.
Marryott presided over the entertainment. Eustace had been out of the way, and did not arrive until the others were assembled. He made his appearance at the banquet all bright, animated expectation, having but just heard of the unwonted indulgence provided him, and prepared to partake in it with full boyish enjoyment.
But at the threshold he paused. By one quick glance, his eye had taken in each individual of the collected group. A sudden thought seemed to press upon the wild beatings of his heart. A cloud overshadowed the quick brightness of his brow.
"Come along, Eustace!" cried the boy Eugene, "if you mean to come at all."
But no, he did not stir. There he stood, rooted to the spot, his changing countenance betokening the struggle of strong feeling passing through his breast, another glance—from which shot forth a gleam of noble fire—around, and then his dark, full eye fixed itself with calmer sternness upon his young brother's face.
"No, thank you, Eugene," he said firmly, "I cannot come. My mother she is all alone in the house. I must go to her," and instantly he turned, and
"Went away with a step strong and slow,
His arch'd lip press'd, and his clear eye undimmed,
As if it were a diamond, and his form
Borne proudly up, as if his heart breathed through."