Part 41 (2/2)

”We are glad,” says she, taking her daughter's hand, and speaking in a gentle voice, ”that the guest is away.”

Beatrix drew back in an instant, looking round her at us three, and as if divining a danger. ”Why glad?” says she, her breast beginning to heave; ”are you so soon tired of him?”

”We think one of us is devilishly too fond of him,” cries out Frank Castlewood.

”And which is it--you, my lord, or is it mamma, who is jealous because he drinks my health? or is it the head of the family” (here she turned with an imperious look towards Colonel Esmond), ”who has taken of late to preach the King sermons?”

”We do not say you are too free with his Majesty.”

”I thank you, madam,” says Beatrix, with a toss of the head and a curtsey.

But her mother continued, with very great calmness and dignity--”At least we have not said so, though we might, were it possible for a mother to say such words to her own daughter, your father's daughter.”

”Eh? mon pere,” breaks out Beatrix, ”was no better than other persons'

fathers.” And again she looked towards the Colonel.

We all felt a shock as she uttered those two or three French words; her manner was exactly imitated from that of our foreign guest.

”You had not learned to speak French a month ago, Beatrix,” says her mother, sadly, ”nor to speak ill of your father.”

Beatrix, no doubt, saw that slip she had made in her flurry, for she blushed crimson: ”I have learnt to honor the King,” says she, drawing up, ”and 'twere as well that others suspected neither his Majesty nor me.”

”If you respected your mother a little more,” Frank said, ”Trix, you would do yourself no hurt.”

”I am no child,” says she, turning round on him; ”we have lived very well these five years without the benefit of your advice or example, and I intend to take neither now. Why does not the head of the house speak?”

she went on; ”he rules everything here. When his chaplain has done singing the psalms, will his lords.h.i.+p deliver the sermon? I am tired of the psalms.” The Prince had used almost the very same words in regard to Colonel Esmond that the imprudent girl repeated in her wrath.

”You show yourself a very apt scholar, madam,” says the Colonel; and, turning to his mistress, ”Did your guest use these words in your ladys.h.i.+p's hearing, or was it to Beatrix in private that he was pleased to impart his opinion regarding my tiresome sermon?”

”Have you seen him alone?” cries my lord, starting up with an oath: ”by G.o.d, have you seen him alone?”

”Were he here, you wouldn't dare so to insult me; no, you would not dare!” cries Frank's sister. ”Keep your oaths, my lord, for your wife; we are not used here to such language. Till you came, there used to be kindness between me and mamma, and I cared for her when you never did, when you were away for years with your horses and your mistress, and your Popish wife.”

”By ---,” says my lord, rapping out another oath, ”Clotilda is an angel; how dare you say a word against Clotilda?”

Colonel Esmond could not refrain from a smile, to see how easy Frank's attack was drawn off by that feint:--”I fancy Clotilda is not the subject in hand,” says Mr. Esmond, rather scornfully; ”her ladys.h.i.+p is at Paris, a hundred leagues off, preparing baby-linen. It is about my Lord Castlewood's sister, and not his wife, the question is.”

”He is not my Lord Castlewood,” says Beatrix, ”and he knows he is not; he is Colonel Francis Esmond's son, and no more, and he wears a false t.i.tle; and he lives on another man's land, and he knows it.” Here was another desperate sally of the poor beleaguered garrison, and an alerte in another quarter. ”Again, I beg your pardon,” says Esmond. ”If there are no proofs of my claim, I have no claim. If my father acknowledged no heir, yours was his lawful successor, and my Lord Castlewood hath as good a right to his rank and small estate as any man in England. But that again is not the question, as you know very well; let us bring our talk back to it, as you will have me meddle in it. And I will give you frankly my opinion, that a house where a Prince lies all day, who respects no woman, is no house for a young unmarried lady; that you were better in the country than here; that he is here on a great end, from which no folly should divert him; and that having n.o.bly done your part of this morning, Beatrix, you should retire off the scene awhile, and leave it to the other actors of the play.”

As the Colonel spoke with a perfect calmness and politeness, such as 'tis to be hoped he hath always shown to women,* his mistress stood by him on one side of the table, and Frank Castlewood on the other, hemming in poor Beatrix, that was behind it, and, as it were, surrounding her with our approaches.

* My dear father saith quite truly, that his manner towards our s.e.x was uniformly courteous. From my infancy upwards, he treated me with an extreme gentleness, as though I was a little lady. I can scarce remember (though I tried him often) ever hearing a rough word from him, nor was he less grave and kind in his manner to the humblest negresses on his estate. He was familiar with no one except my mother, and it was delightful to witness up to the very last days the confidence between them. He was obeyed eagerly by all under him; and my mother and all her household lived in a constant emulation to please him, and quite a terror lest in any way they should offend him. He was the humblest man with all this; the least exacting, the more easily contented; and Mr. Benson, our minister at Castlewood, who attended him at the last, ever said--”I know not what Colonel Esmond's doctrine was, but his life and death were those of a devout Christian.”--R. E. W.

Having twice sallied out and been beaten back, she now, as I expected, tried the ultima ratio of women, and had recourse to tears. Her beautiful eyes filled with them; I never could bear in her, nor in any woman, that expression of pain:--”I am alone,” sobbed she; ”you are three against me--my brother, my mother, and you. What have I done, that you should speak and look so unkindly at me? Is it my fault that the Prince should, as you say, admire me? Did I bring him here? Did I do aught but what you bade me, in making him welcome? Did you not tell me that our duty was to die for him? Did you not teach me, mother, night and morning to pray for the King, before even ourselves? What would you have of me, cousin, for you are the chief of the conspiracy against me; I know you are, sir, and that my mother and brother are acting but as you bid them; whither would you have me go?”

”I would but remove from the Prince,” says Esmond, gravely, ”a dangerous temptation; heaven forbid I should say you would yield; I would only have him free of it. Your honor needs no guardian, please G.o.d, but his imprudence doth. He is so far removed from all women by his rank, that his pursuit of them cannot but be unlawful. We would remove the dearest and fairest of our family from the chance of that insult, and that is why we would have you go, dear Beatrix.”

”Harry speaks like a book,” says Frank, with one of his oaths, ”and, by ---, every word he saith is true. You can't help being handsome, Trix; no more can the Prince help following you. My counsel is that you go out of harm's way; for, by the Lord, were the Prince to play any tricks with you, King as he is, or is to be, Harry Esmond and I would have justice of him.”

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