"You think so," he replied gently, but still most mournfully; then averting his face, added in low and sterner accents of interrogation: "and my brother?" "He has been ill," was Mary's low reply, "suffering, it is to be feared, as much from mental anxiety as from physical pain. Oh, Mr. Trevor, your coming to him indeed must prove a relief--a relief from the worst of sufferings--suspense." "What has he to fear?" demanded Eustace Trevor. "What? You will learn too soon the desperate nature of your brother's position, unless, indeed, he finds in you one more generous and forgiving than he has any right or reason to expect." Mary spoke earnestly, but with firmness, almost severity; and as she uttered these last words Eustace Trevor turned and anxiously regarded her. "Eugene need have no fears on any pecuniary account," he again repeated; "he will find in me one who cannot set too low a value on that of which he strove so hard to deprive me. Surely you, Miss Seaham, could not have believed me capable of so poor and contemptible a spirit of revenge, as to entertain any doubt or fear as regards my conduct in that respect?" "No, no," Mary replied, with trembling fervour; "I might have rested well assured as to what must be the high and holy character of _your_ revenge. 'If your enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink;' and oh, Mr. Trevor, by so doing, coals of fire will indeed be heaped upon your unhappy brother's head. But, alas! can _he_ suppose you capable of such magnanimity--he of so different a spirit to your own?" There was a spirit in the mild eyes, a colour on the pale cheek turned towards him, as she thus expressed herself, which caused a corresponding glow to illumine the countenance of her listener, and with still greater earnestness he regarded her. Mary turned away, bending her head over the boy, who had again drawn caressingly to her side, whilst in low, faltering accents she replied to his inquiries, whether she had come to Silverton since the fire? "No, the afternoon before it had occurred." "Had she seen his brother?" "She had, contrary to her cousin Olivia's promise, that so painful and useless an ordeal should be spared her. She had found him at Silverton on her arrival. It had been an interview most distressing and repugnant to her feelings at the time, though the startling and terrible events, which so closely succeeded, had in a great degree diverted her mind from any selfish consideration. She had since then been very ill. Her illness had detained her at Silverton, but this I shall not regret," she added. "I shall now depart with the happy consciousness, which I have not experienced for the last few years, that all is right which has been for long so very wrong, my mind relieved of its harassing weight of doubt, darkness and perplexity."