Mary Seaham Volume Ii Part 9

The same partial fate which attended the young Eustace under his father's roof, extended itself to his life at school. In the rather inferior establishment to which he, and his younger brother were sent--one very unworthy and inefficient to develope the genius and talent, inherent in the boy--qualities which nevertheless struggled forth, spite of all disadvantages, into life and power, too little appreciated by others--there the favour of the sycophant master, was lavished exclusively on the rich father's favourite, to the apparent detriment and depreciation of the other. The high and generous spirit of the boy, was reported as ill-disposed and unruly, and treated accordingly with severity, or more properly speaking, tyranny and injustice.

A crus.h.i.+ng or hardening effect upon the mind and character, must have inevitably been the result of such a process, had it not been for the superior nature of the being upon whom it worked; to say nothing of that counter charm which ever lay upon his heart, a talisman against the power of every evil influence--his mother's love. But there was one effect produced by the state of things we have endeavoured to show forth, which could not be averted. We mean the seed of future misery, thereby sown between the youthful brothers.

In early childhood there had subsisted between them an affection almost bordering upon enthusiasm, remarkable in children of their age; in the younger how soon, like every other good and truthful inclination of his heart and character, contracted and undermined by the still more pernicious influence to which by his different circ.u.mstances he was exposed. It might have been supposed that were the invidious feelings of envy, or jealousy, to be engendered in either mind by the system of partiality to which they were subjected in such a lamentable degree, it would have been in that of the least favoured; but jealousy belonged not to the n.o.ble nature of Eustace.

Sad surprise--indignant risings in his breast against the injustice of his father's conduct, were the consequence, but no invidious feeling against the rival object himself. That one indeed, he would ever have loved and cherished, borne with and forgiven, as in those young days, whilst any evidence of brotherly feeling was given in exchange. But no--it was the favoured one, as we often see to be the case--the rich and favoured one, who began to envy his poorer brother, even the scanty portion which fell to his share.

And of what was there in those early days that Eugene could envy Eustace?

What but that boon, which though influenced outwardly to despise--his inherent taste for the good and beautiful, caused him secretly to covet, above every other gift--the fervent love which he saw bestowed by his despised, but angelic mother, on the child, whose affection drew it so freely forth--love how ready to be poured as largely on his own head, but for the barrier of slight, coldness, and constraint she saw so soon interposed between herself and that else equally beloved child.

Oh! the pain, to mark the glances of that dark, clear eye grow cold and dim, when turned upon her--the once open brow

"Cloud with mistrust, and the unfettered lip Curled with the iciness of constant scorn."

But all this belongs more properly to a later, and, alas! darker period of the lives of those it is our task to trace, and to which we must hasten forward; that period, in which boyhood merges into manhood, and the seed sown for good or ill springs forth, and bears--some thirty, some sixty, and some an hundred-fold.

CHAPTER XII.

Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?

Have I not suffered things to be forgiven?

Have I not had my brain sear'd, my heart riven?

BYRON.

It was Mr. Trevor's good pleasure to bestow the church living in his gift upon his second son. On the same principle, we suppose--as it was the fas.h.i.+on, at that period--more we trust than in the present time--for the least promising and least talented of a family to be devoted to the sacred service of the church--did the father, we conclude, in the present instance select for this purpose the son least esteemed and honoured in his eyes, without any regard to the inclinations of his own heart, or his fitness for that vocation.

Eustace Trevor was sent to College, on as small an allowance as could in decency be accorded, and commanded there to prepare himself for Holy Orders.

How can we describe the trials, the struggles, the discouragements which beset the path of one who, under more propitious circ.u.mstances, might have pa.s.sed on to such high and distinguished grades of honour and distinction?

His n.o.ble character and conspicuous talents, drew down upon him the love, admiration, and honour of those around him; yet to some degree the galling hand which had laid heavy on his boyhood oppressed his powers even then.

Great and good as was the young man's nature,

"Temptation hath a music for all ears, And mad ambition triumpheth to all, And the ungovernable thought within Will be in every bosom eloquent."

The very superiority of Eustace Trevor's nature, his high, and serious estimate of the holy nature of the profession which had been forced upon him, soon caused the youth to recoil with conscientious horror from embracing it upon such terms. He laid his scruples before his father, who with contemptuous indignation told him he might then starve, or beg, for by no other means should he obtain from him a farthing of subsistence--and his mother, whilst she sympathized in his feelings on the subject, still encouraged and besought him to make himself worthy of the sacred vocation, and bring down those high thoughts and aspirations which rendered it incompatible with his desires.

This was the substance of her mild, soft pleadings in the anxious cause:

"My son, oh leave the world alone!

Safe on the steps of Jesus' throne Be tranquil and be blest."

Encouraged by this strong persuasion, Eustace Trevor promised for her dear sake to do all in his power to satisfy her solicitude, and reconcile his own conscience on the point.

Eugene in the meantime was given a place in the great banking establishment before alluded to, a position which only served to throw the young man in the way of all the temptations and dissipations of a London life, and rather to overthrow those expectations of Mr. Trevor, as to the money saving propensities of his favourite.

In his fondness for money, he might indeed show himself a worthy son of his father, for to attain it by all attainable means soon became his actual object. Yet to whatever pitch this inclination might arrive in later years, in these his days of youthful folly, "to spend and not to h.o.a.rd," was certainly his distinguis.h.i.+ng propensity; thus affording his father plentiful opportunities for displaying to the full, the partial injustice of his conduct towards his younger children.

One of the most striking instances in this particular was exhibited a few years after the establishment of Eustace at College, when Eugene was about nineteen. The latter unexpectedly one summer evening arrived at Montrevor from London, in no very happy state of mind.

Gambling was unfortunately one of the pleasures, or more properly speaking pa.s.sions, which a.s.sailed the young man most strongly in this early part of his career. He had just lost a considerable sum of money at the late Derby; and this was the first time that he found himself obliged to confess this delinquency to his father, and apply for the amount necessary for the payment of the debt of honour thus incurred.

He could scarcely flatter himself that Mr. Trevor's. .h.i.therto partial favour could avail him in a case of such unwonted enormity. Forfeiture of that favour, perhaps a refusal of his application; anger, disgrace at home, ignominy, dishonour abroad, all stared him in the face. Eugene entered the house at night, and went straight to Mabel Marryott's apartment, where, scarcely noticing the eager and astounded greeting of his foster-mother, he threw himself upon a seat, and leaning his elbows upon the table, he buried his face in his hands, and remained plunged in moody silence.

In vain for some time Marryott questioned him, as to what had happened to occasion his sudden return, and the discomposure under which he appeared to labour. But at length, having shaken off the hand she so caressingly placed on his shoulder (for some years the young man had begun to discourage any similar demonstrations from his quondam nurse), he called for some wine; and having drank off a b.u.mper, he then came out with the abrupt communication, that he had lost a thousand pounds, and that she must manage to get it from his father.

Mrs. Marryott was astounded.

"Lost a thousand pounds!" Mr. Trevor to be informed of this, and coolly asked to supply it. The boy was mad to think of such a thing. No favouritism would indeed avail to cover such an enormity in his father's eyes. She, with all her confidence in the influence she possessed, would not risk the office of intercession in such an outrageous instance, at such a time too, when Mr. Trevor was overlooking the accounts of his brother Eustace, who had just returned from College, and into a fine state of mind she a.s.sured him his father was worked up by the employment. Then, in antic.i.p.ation of the paternal indignation she prepared him to receive, Mrs. Marryott ventured to bestow upon her foster-son some severe strictures upon the imprudence of his conduct, all which Job's comfort the young man was in no mood to receive with patient equanimity.

Starting from his seat, he rudely told her to hold her tongue, for if she did not choose to help him he must go to some one who would; and rus.h.i.+ng up stairs, he went straight to his mother's sitting-room. Mrs.

Trevor was alone, seated near the open window, with her eyes fixed sadly on the church spire rising amidst the distant trees, and pointing with such solemn silence to that blessed home, for which the wounded spirit must have so often yearned.

"Eugene!" she exclaimed in surprise, as, turning her sorrowful countenance towards the opening door, she beheld her son; and Eugene having slightly returned the pressure of her outstretched hand, threw himself down upon the nearest seat, in much the same state of moody dejection as he had previously done in the apartment of Marryott.

But there seemed something more soothing in the atmosphere of his present position--something in the subdued and holy calm of the maternal presence, which had never before impressed him in the like degree.

Perhaps it had been a relief to his jealous spirit to find his mother thus alone, unaccompanied, as was usually the case when he was in the house, by the envied Eustace, to be the witness of his discomfiture, and an auditor of his misfortune. And when, perceiving that something was amiss, she approached, and, without inquiry, sat down silently by his side, he did not now shrink from the fair soft hand which, with almost timid tenderness, was placed in gentle sympathy on his arm, but burst forth at once in softened accents of appeal with the grievous fact.

"Mother, what am I to do? I have lost upon the Derby a thousand pounds; have it I must immediately. I cannot tell my father; some one must get it out of him. Marryott won't--will you?"

The mother withdrew the hand which, emboldened by her young son's unwonted show of confiding consideration, had ventured to begin to part the dark matted locks from his heated brow. Nor was this done from dismay at the chief purport of this desperate intelligence, but from the cold pang with which these concluding words struck upon her ear: "Marryott won't--will you?"

It had not then been the impulse of his filial heart, as for a few brief minutes she had gladly hoped, to fly to his mother in his distress. He had gone to another first, and only come to her as a last resource--as often when a boy had been the case, when Marryott, for fear of his father's displeasure at the expense, had refused him some indulgence--some of those "good things" we have heard the man Eugene so feelingly deplore, and with which the mother had supplied him from her own too circ.u.mscribed resources.

Had not the present emergency been out of the question to her limited powers, how willingly would she in the same manner have relieved her son of his pressing anxiety.

As it was, the momentary pang of bitterness allayed, without giving way to any irritating manifestation of her feelings, with regard to his astounding communication, she only expressed her sorrow at his misfortune and perplexity; and refused not to take upon herself the office he demanded of her.

"Alas, Eugene! you know the extent of the influence I possess," she sadly observed. "I can but break to your father what you have related, and trust to his general indulgence towards you, rather than to any regard he may be inclined to pay to entreaties of mine in your behalf."

"Exactly; that is all I want, mother; tell him that I will work hard at that d--d bank for the next year--that I will make it up to him in some way--anything in the world; but if he does not let me have it, I must blow my brains out--that's all."

And the mother, sadly sighing over the ruinous course--ruinous as regarded his soul's welfare--in which her son had so early embarked--and she, without any power to influence or to restrain--left the room.

Mrs. Trevor entered the library with no willing step. She knew well how she should find her husband occupied, and the disagreeable nature of her mission was less repugnant to her feelings than the pain which would most probably be in store for her in her other son's behalf.

And here indeed she did find her Eustace undergoing a more torturing mental ordeal than that of the physical chastis.e.m.e.nt to which she had on a former occasion seen him exposed in that same apartment; his n.o.ble, generous spirit goaded almost beyond the power of endurance, as compelled to sit there before his father, and submit to the most close, exact, and grinding examination of every detail and minutiae of his last year's expenses, a process accompanied, as was every item of the amount, with the most bitter and angry comments on his so-called profligacy and extravagance--the galling and degrading nature of which ordeal every young man, blameless and well-principled as he may be, will be able fully to appreciate.

The mother cast an involuntary glance of tender concern upon the victim, and then approached her husband.