In this new mood Eugene went to pay his customary morning visit to his father's room, and there fresh fuel was added to the fire lately kindled in his breast.
The old man had for the last few days taken a different turn. At first, as we have said, his disenthralment from Marryott's guardianship had been a relief to his mind; but to this feeling had succeeded a restless disquiet as to the consequences of the removal of this Cerberus of his household, and the destruction both of himself and property, fraud, robbery, poisoning, fire, ruin and destruction in every possible shape, seemed to be hanging over his head by a single hair. He was in a perpetual fear whenever he found his son had left the house.
The day to which we allude, Eugene Trevor was assailed with the usual amount of murmuring and complaint.
"Eugene, a pretty state we are in now. I should like to know what's to become of us if we go on much longer in this manner."
"In what way, my dear Sir? everything seems to go on very quietly; really, with scarcely half a dozen servants in the house, and all the plate safe in the bank, I do not think there's any chance of much harm being done."
"No harm? Gracious powers! how do you know what abominations of extravagance are not going forward—you who are always sleeping miles away from the wretches, and know not how I may be robbed, and cheated, and eaten out of house and home. I'll tell you one thing, Eugene, I am determined I'll get to the offices, if I'm carried there, and see to a fraction every bit of meat weighed that comes into the house, as you won't help me."
"My dear Sir, I would do everything in my power, I assure you, but the chief object at present I think will be to try and find some second Marryott, who, I hope," with a sneering emphasis on the words, "you will find an equal treasure of honesty and faithfulness as the other."
"I don't want another Marryott," whined the old man, peevishly; "I won't have a housekeeper at all, with their forty-guinea wages—they are as bad as any of them—Marryott understood my ways—"
"And your coffers too, Sir," added Eugene, with a scornful laugh. "A pretty hoard she had at the bank. I am sorry she made no will; I, as her foster-son, might have been the better for it; but as it is, it belongs to her husband, if he is yet alive."