“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 lordship 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 ladyship’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 God, 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 ladyship 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 title; 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 nobly 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,12 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.
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 God, 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.”
“Are not two such champions enough to guard me?” says Beatrix, something sorrowfully; “sure, with you two watching, no evil could happen to me.”
“In faith, I think not, Beatrix,” says Colonel Esmond; “nor if the Prince knew us would he try.”
“But does he know you?” interposed Lady Castlewood, very quiet: “he comes of a country where the pursuit of kings is thought no dishonor to a woman. Let us go, dearest Beatrix. Shall we go to Walcote or to Castlewood? We are best away from the city; and when the Prince is
