Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
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Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3
Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"And what, allow me to ask," he proceeded with forced composure, "may be
the amount of this unfortunate involvement?"
Mrs. Trevor, in a low tone, named the sum.
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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