eir sentences to your purpose--to be for ever taking
Heaven into your confidence about your private affairs, and
passionately calling for its interference in your family quarrels and
difficulties--to be so familiar with its designs and schemes as to be
able to threaten your neighbour with its thunders, and to know precisely
its intentions regarding him and others who differ from your infallible
opinion--this was the schooling which our simple widow had received from
her impetuous young spiritual guide, and I doubt whether it brought her
much comfort.

In the midst of his mother's harangue, in spite of it, perhaps, George
Esmond felt he had been wrong. "There can be but one command in the
house, and you must be mistress--I know who said those words before
you," George said, slowly, and looking very white--"and--and I know,
mother, that I have acted wrongly to Mr. Ward."

"He owns it! He asks pardon!" cries Harry. "That's right, George! That's
enough: isn't it?"

"No, it is not enough!" cried the little woman. "The disobedient boy
must pay the penalty of his disobedience. When I was headstrong, as I
sometimes was as a child before my spirit was changed and humbled, my
mamma punished me, and I submitted. So must George. I desire you will do
your duty, Mr. Ward."

"Stop, mother!--you don't quite know what you are doing," George said,
exceedingly agitated.

"I know that he who spares the rod spoils the child, ungrateful boy!"
says Madam Esmond, with more references of the same nature, which George
heard, looking very pale and desperate.

Upon the mantelpiece, under the Colonel's portrait, stood a china
cup, by which the widow set great store, as her father had always been
accustomed to drink from it. George suddenly took it, and a strange
smile passed over his pale face.

"Stay one minute. Don't go away yet," he cried to his mother, who was
leaving the room. "You--you are very fond of this cup, mother?"--and
Harry looked at him, wondering. "If I broke it, it could never be
mended, could it? All the tinkers' rivets would not make it a whole cup
again. My dear old grandpapa's cup! I have been wrong. Mr. Ward, I ask
pardon. I will try and amend."

The widow looked at her son indignantly, almost scornfully. "I thought,"
she said, "I thought an Esmond had been more of a man than to be afraid,
and--" here she gave a little scream as Harry uttered an exclamation,
and dashed forward with his hands stretched out towards his