As for Mr. Eugene, it seemed that he took his brother's condition greatly to heart. They never saw a gentleman look so ill. He scarcely touched a morsel of food, nor left the house to breathe the fresh air, but sat shut up in the library with the old gentleman; which must, they all thought, be very bad for him, both in mind and body--worse even than going off to London and racketting there, as they heard was his wont, though he did manage to keep it so snug and make himself such a favourite with his father. They wondered indeed how he managed with the old gentleman. They well knew how poor Mr. Eustace had been treated, and should always think Mr. Trevor had helped to drive him mad; but it was only like the proverb which says that "one man may steal a horse out of the field, whilst another may not as much as look over the hedge." * * * * * There is a pretty looking country-house about five miles distant from Montrevor, of which travellers as they pass generally ask the name, and are astonished when they hear its nature and appropriation; so little, excepting perhaps the wall surrounding the premises, is there in its exterior, as seen from the road, calculated to give the beholder an idea of its belonging to any such class of institution as it really does. The interior too, on a stranger's first entrance, would not be likely to enlighten him. There are pretty drawing-rooms below, looking upon lawns and gardens, in which well-dressed people are seen to sit or walk; and who give one little idea, by their carriage, behaviour, or even sometimes by their conversation, what has brought them there, and under which dreadful malady they are supposed to be labouring. They seem to be treated in the kindest manner, and entertained and accommodated as in every way would be accordant with the immense sum which has gained for them the privilege of an entrance into this asylum of wealthy woe; for woe--yes, one of those worst of woes flesh is heir to--lies concealed beneath the glittering surface of appearances such as we are describing. And few would wish to pierce, even if allowed, farther into "the secrets of that prison-house," lest sounds or sights which freeze the blood and harrow the soul might be listened to and revealed. In a remote chamber of this mansion, between whose close grated windows the light of day but feebly straggled through blinds which debarred all outward view, Eustace Trevor had opened his eyes, and for the first time for many a day felt his brain cool, his mind clear, his vision disentangled from those false and disturbed images which hitherto had so tormented it, and reduced him an unconscious unresisting prey into the hand of the enemy. The crisis had passed--a deep but healthy sleep had succeeded. "The wild fever had swept away like an angry red cloud, and the refreshing summer rain began to fall upon the parched earth." But where and under what circumstances did this change find him?