Yet at the same time it may be truly said no dark thoughts, no covetous desire which might have sprung too naturally from this train of ideas in any other breast, was hereby suggested. No, he felt too great a calm, a peace and contentment, in the present aspect of his life, as contrasted with the struggles and trials which had been its early portion, not to have contemplated such a _bouleversement_ as that to which we allude with any feeling save that of horror and distaste. No--he had seen and proved enough of the hateful sin of covetousness, for any such feeling to have gained admittance in his breast; nay, not indeed to have fled from its very idea, as from a serpent. "They that will be rich fall into a temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which draw men into destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of evil, which, when some coveted after, they have erred from the faith and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. But thou, man of God, flee from these things and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness." Thus, in a frame and state of mind which it would have been far from the thoughts of man to conceive as the presager of misery, dark and horrible, Eustace Trevor approached his father's house. It was night, and the mansion seemed wrapped in more than its customary gloom and darkness. Every window was closed and shuttered--all save one, and from that the only ray of light visible on its whole extent glittered through the open casement. It was enough--the light came from his mother's chamber. The star of his home shone forth, as it had ever done, to cheer and welcome his approach. He did not seek admittance at the front door. That had never been the privilege of himself or brothers during their boyhood, or their custom by choice in later years. There was a more private entrance, through which, after having left their horse or other vehicle at the stables, the young Trevors could enter or issue at their pleasure--safe from the _espionage_ or uncertain welcome of their father. To this Eustace had now recourse. He tried it, and finding the doors beyond his expectations unsecured, passed through, making his way by a back staircase to his mother's apartments, without encountering a domestic or any person on his route. The house was still and silent as the grave. He entered the boudoir. There was no lamp or candle burning there, but the clear light reflected from the adjoining chamber, of which the door was ajar, seemed to indicate that his mother had retired for the night.