That he might prevail on Mary to consent to a private marriage, was now probably the object of Eugene's mind. For to relinquish, without a struggle, any acquisition on which he had set his heart, would have been contrary to his nature; and then there was the probability of his father's death, securing to him so large a provision, rendering him in a pecuniary point of view, independent of any threats his brother might please to put into execution; for as far as Mary was concerned, he relied too much on the power he had gained over her devoted, gentle affections, to fear that any accusation brought against him by his brother, would influence her against him. Eustace might then claim his own rights, and he would not dispute them. Nay, Mary once his own, he reckoned too much on that brother's, (in his heart, acknowledged generosity of spirit,) to fear that he would persevere in carrying out his threatened, and in that case, unavailing exposure. It was in this light, probably, that he viewed the case, when Eugene first came to London. Eustace, too, we find, had not left town. Either he had been led to doubt the truth of his brother's protestations, or was unable to resist the temptation of lingering where Mary was, when he could again, and for the last time, perhaps, hope to catch a passing glance of her sweet face,--pale, sad, and changed, since he had last seen it--but better thus to his mind, than bright and glowing with that dangerous infatuation by which she was to be allured to certain misery. We will not deny that Eustace Trevor's feelings and course of conduct on the occasion, may seem carried to a morbid, some may almost deem, an unwarrantable excess. But then it must be remembered, that all his lifetime through, "From mighty wrong to petty perfidy;" he had suffered enough to bring any man of his sensitively high-pitched tone of mind to this extremity. There was one point especially, which had become the ruling power of his mind--that phantom which by night or day--haunted his imagination. The remembrance of his mother: her wrongs and misery. "A potent spell, a mighty talisman, The imperishable memory of the dead, Sustained by love, and grief, and indignation, So vivid were the forms within his brain, His very eyes, when shut, made pictures of them."