Oh wretch! without a tear, without a thought,
Save joy above the ruin thou hast wrought.
* * * * *
Look on thy earthly victims and despair.
BYRON.
When the morning arrived, some one came knocking for admittance at the door of the chamber of death. The knock was several times repeated before it gained any answer or attention; but finally a slow and heavy tread was heard traversing the apartment; the bolt was feebly drawn, the door opened, and Eustace Trevor stood face to face with Mabel Marryott.
Prepared as she was for this meeting, and in some degree for its being one of no pleasing nature, the woman could not but recoil before the wan and haggard countenance which presented itself to her view.
Her stony eye shrunk—her bloodless heart quailed at first sight of those signs of mighty grief which one night's agony had imprinted there. But perhaps it was not so much his appearance as the glance, Eustace, still holding the door in his hand, fixed upon her, which thus affected her; and he, favoured by this movement on her part, was about, without the utterance of a word, again to close the door in her face, when quickly recovering from her momentary weakness she prevented the action, by stepping quickly forward, and attempted to pass him by. But no; firmly he remained within the doorway, effectually frustrating any such endeavour. Mabel Marryott looked at him with an air of affected surprise, her cool, unabashed demeanour perfectly restored.
"Mr. Eustace," she said, and there was an insolent tinge of patronising pity in her tone; "will you allow me, Sir?"
"No; I will not," was the reply which burst forth in accents, which, if there were aught of human in her mould, must have shook her very soul to its centre; "you are not wanted here; you have done enough—you have helped to kill her; what can you desire more? Begone!—tempt me not to call down the curse of Heaven upon ..."
"Eustace—Eustace—this is folly; this is madness!" said a voice behind him; and the fearful words were stayed on Eustace's lips, when he looked up, and beheld his brother. Eugene Trevor, looking very pale and ill himself, came forward, and with a glance at Marryott took his brother's arm, and led him back through the chamber of death into the boudoir beyond, closing the door behind them.
"Good heavens! Eustace, how ill you look! You must not give way in that manner—it is weak, it is unmanly. This has been a blow to us all; but you know it was not altogether unexpected. Her health has long been failing."