"What's the use of telling me all this _now_," whimpered the father, "when you let her go on doing it without giving me a hint?" "Oh, my dear Sir, she saved it for you in other ways! 'Set a thief to catch a thief,' you know, at any rate she let no one rob you but herself, which, as so very old and faithful a servant, of course she considered herself privileged to do; but set your mind at ease," he continued more soothingly, as the old man writhed upon his bed, groaning in agony of spirit, "I'll make it my business to find some honest, decent woman, who at least will not be able to claim the privilege of common property on the above-mentioned score." "But how can you be sure of her being decent and honest?" still persisted Mr. Trevor; "there's not one amongst the race, I believe, that is so. I'll have nothing to do with any of them. I will tell you what, Eugene," and the old man's eyes gleamed at the sudden suggestion, "the only thing that's to be done--why don't you get a wife, and bring her to live here, and keep the house?" Eugene Trevor's brow darkened. "A bright idea, Sir," he responded, ironically. "Yes, yes," continued the old man; "what are you thinking of, Eugene, that you don't marry? you're getting on in life; I was married before I was as old by half. What's to become of the family and fortune--if there's any left of it--if you don't marry?" His son's eye brightened. "And by the bye, now I think of it," the father continued, craftily, "what became of that pretty young lady you brought here with Olivia, to that grand luncheon some time ago? I liked her--her voice was soft and gentle, and her manners sensible and quiet. She was something like your mother, Eugene, when I married her; now why could she not do for you?" "You remember, Sir, that when I did propose making her my wife, it did not meet with your unqualified approbation," replied his son, evasively. "Oh, didn't it! but that was long ago--then Marryott was here to look after things, and she, I suppose, didn't like it; but now couldn't you look her out again--she isn't gone, is she--you have not lost her?" Eugene set his teeth hard together and did not immediately reply; but then he said, fixing his eyes on the old man's face, and speaking in tones of affected carelessness: "After all, I do not see how _my_ marriage can be an affair of such _great_ consequence, for you know, Sir, there is Eustace." The old man's face convulsed terribly--that name had not for many years past been uttered by Eugene or any one in his presence. "Eustace," he murmured tremblingly, "and what has it to do with Eustace--isn't he mad, or dead, or something?" "He is not dead, certainly, Sir; and mad or not, he might be coming back any day, to put in claims which would not make my marriage so very desirable or expedient a business." Mr. Trevor looked fearfully around him.