Its extent probably exceeded Mr. Trevor's expectation, and the expression of his countenance plainly indicated the struggle of contending feelings within his breast.
He took two or three strides about the room, then ordered Eugene to be sent to him.
"Nay, Madam, pray do not you trouble yourself," as Mrs. Trevor was preparing to leave the room, too willing to escape from the scene of whatever nature which was to follow; and he rang the bell, and desired Eugene to be summoned.
In a few minutes, during which no one spoke—Mrs. Trevor sitting pale and patient, Eustace walking to the window with a look of weary disgust upon his countenance, whilst Mr. Trevor's dark eye glanced alternately the one from the other, with the wary suspicious glare of an angry animal—Eugene entered, prepared for the worst, with a dogged indifference of countenance and threw himself upon a chair behind his father.
"Well, Sir, and what is this I hear of you?" Mr. Trevor commenced. "Lost a thousand pounds! a pretty story truly; and want me to give you the money. Really one would think you were heir to twenty thousand a-year, instead of a younger son," with a significant glance towards the window, "totally and entirely dependent on my bounty."
There was nothing very encouraging in the letter of this exordium. Something, however, in the manner in which it was spoken, seemed to give hope and courage to the culprit; for shaking off his sullen moodiness, he sprang from his seat, and approaching his father, began to pour into his ear, in earnest humble strains, a string of protestations, representations, and excuses, relating to the subject of his loss—on the true Spartan principle, accusing the failure rather than the committal of the deed—showing how it had been, by the most unforeseen turn of luck, that he had not won thousands, instead of losing one; the good fortune which had attended him, on each preceding occasion of the kind; finally declaring his determination to do better for the future, or at any rate so manage, that he would blow his brains out rather than again trouble his father.
"Well, well, Sir, this all sounds very plausible, indeed," was Mr. Trevor's reply, having listened with becoming gravity and consideration to the defence; "but I would advise you to give up this losing trade of gambling you have commenced. You will find it, let me tell you, far less profitable in the end than sticking to your bank. In the meantime, to extricate you from your present dilemma, and enable you to turn over a new leaf for the future—this also being in your case the first trouble you have given me—I will write you a cheque for what you require; but remember, this is the last time you must expect from me anything of the sort. Your brother there will tell you how I have plenty to do with one younger son's worthless extravagance—"
"Mr. Trevor, you are cruelly unjust," interposed the mother's trembling voice, indignant tears swelling to her eyelids. "You know that one half of what you bestow so freely upon Eugene would amply cover all that Eustace owes—"
"Mrs. Trevor, may I request your silence on the subject?" thundered her husband. "Have I not often told you, that I desire no interference between myself and the affairs of my sons. Supposing I do act with the cruel injustice you so flatteringly ascribe to me, what then? have I not a right to do what I will with my own?"
And, suiting the action to the words, his hand trembling with agitation, he hastened to achieve—that to him almost incredible thing—to write a cheque and present it to his youngest son for a thousand pounds, with a certain feeling, or at any rate the appearance, of unmurmuring alacrity.