Mary Seaham, Volume 2 of 3

sorrows; roo

ations, rip

griefs; soli

rations, evid

proofs e'en fro

the sorr

RB

proprietor of Montrevor, had taken to himself a wife, young, lovely, of g

es, to bestow her hand upon this rich and handsome suitor, death

siduous and devoted in his attentions during courtship, would prove an amiable, affectionate husband; and that in resigning her future destiny int

rson to Henry Trevor the husband; that she had been wedded-for her beauty?-no; woman's natural vanity might have forgiven that:-for her fortune? no; that was comparatively insignificant to count much, even in the close calculations of him, into whose well-

ng made swe

moulded, crushed, if it were necessary, into the slave and minister of his favourite lust

e had that within her, a degree of sense and spirit, which moved her in her early marriage days to use the gentle influence she hoped in some degree to have obtained over her husband's affections; t

ds are but the tighter drawn-the grasp more crushingly extended, till the victim feeling his impotence to resist, resigns itself powerless to its fate. Mrs. Trevor struggled no more. A

oint; he had bent her to his will. She superintended and accommodated herself to the close and grinding economy he exacted in his house. She sacrificed all extravagant tastes, all expensive

Trevor was a sleeping partner. Yes, in this she had done well and wisely, and the husband was in the end content. But in the first instance, even here, he was not entirely satisfied with his wife's conduct. Nature had rebelled against the young mother's affording nourishment to her eldest born. Other aid was required, and this unwarrantable and unnecessary infraction upon the rules and exactions of maternity, sank the parent considerably in her lord and master's valuation and esteem. The second time she p

in the former case, and the excessive fondness with which this child had naturally wound itself around its nursing mother's heart. Whether from these, or still more unworthy notices, this time Mr. Trevor, on some capricious arbitrary plea, objected to

ve seen the unconscious Mary spend so happy an hour, sat the wife and mother, struggling with the inward anguish of an injured, wounded spirit, or straining the little Eustace to her heart, calling him, in deep, earnest accents of endearment, her darling-her own boy-her precious nursling; beseeching him never to forsake her, to stand by his own mother-to love, and to protect her, till the boy's dark, fervent eyes, would suffuse with tears, and he would promise, with the little full and throbbing heart beating against her breast, always to be "mamma's own boy," and never to leave her even when he was a man; and the heir-he, in the meantime, had probably made his escape to the stable-yard, to the grooms and stable-boys, for

Trevor, though not suffered to interfere in any other department, was expected to take upon herself the arduous office of instruct

poor lady was too willing to enter on a task, which promised a means of drawing her children towards her in closer intercourse than was otherwise permit

r was forced to represent to the father her insuffi

e possessed to force him into any degree of application; whilst the two other boys, the one high-spirited and talented in the extreme-the younger taught to look

might she

dle," was all the answer

ody and nerves. But that was nothing. It was an employment-and sh

nd long-suffering, bearing rather than contending against th

nd inefficient they might be, as concerned her noble son, Eustace; not but that pain and trouble of a certain ki

e breathed in his cause, fan into life, water into vigour in that young pupil's breast! H

ally impetuous disposition and independent spirit. Though full of genius, and promise of bright things to

ned in feeling, rather than unamiable at heart, would stare with stupid amazement at such animated demonstrations in the penitent; whilst the younger-what a glance of cold surprise from his dark eye-what a look almost of disdain in his

im-or even Mabel Marryott. But she! what could she do? what influence, d

ild, nor devoid of amiability of character; had it not been for the e

scendancy over his close shut heart, than that which any other individual ever attained. Nay, to him h

husband in the treatment of these two younger boys; for the eldest, Henry, though neither favoured or in any way much regarded by his father, at any rate met with neither injustice or unkindness-inasmuch as neither his nature or propensities, rendered him worthy or desirous of any greater degree of privilege or advantage, than he obtained-and he was sent to Eton at thirteen, when all that was to be done for him was done, that was necessary and proper. But the second son, Eustace-whether it was the boy's disposition, so antagonistic in every respect to his father's; or that it was her own unfortunate attachment to this child, or tha