Eugene set his teeth hard together and did not immediately reply; but then he said, fixing his eyes on the old man's face, and speaking in tones of affected carelessness:
"After all, I do not see how my marriage can be an affair of such great consequence, for you know, Sir, there is Eustace."
The old man's face convulsed terribly—that name had not for many years past been uttered by Eugene or any one in his presence.
"Eustace," he murmured tremblingly, "and what has it to do with Eustace—isn't he mad, or dead, or something?"
"He is not dead, certainly, Sir; and mad or not, he might be coming back any day, to put in claims which would not make my marriage so very desirable or expedient a business."
Mr. Trevor looked fearfully around him.
"But, Eugene," he gasped in a low, breathless whisper, "he's not near—he's not likely to come and threaten me. You must keep the doors fastened—you must keep him locked out."
"Oh, my dear father!" his son responded, "there's no such immediate danger as all that; he's far enough off, and not likely to trouble you: only I mean, if—if anything were to happen—then—then, of course, he would be here to look after his own interests; for he's on the watch for your death, I have been told on good authority, and therefore of course you know it would not do for me to run any risk—to marry for instance—unless I can see my way a little more plainly before me."
The old man became livid with rage; all his ancient hatred against his son seemed to revive at the suggestion thus insinuated against him.
"To watch for my death! and what then will that do for him—the bedlamite? Eugene! Eugene!" grasping his arm, "never fear him—go and get married—bring your wife here to look after the house, and I'll live another half century to spite him, and then see who'll have it all. We've got a will, Eugene, haven't we?" chuckling and rubbing his hands exultingly.