ouse, though the family are from home?" Molly dared to say Mrs.
Barker would let his honour see the house, and Harry Warrington made
his way across the court, seeming to know the place as well as if he had
been born there, Miss Molly thought, who followed, accompanied by Mr.
Gumbo making her a profusion of polite bows and speeches.

CHAPTER II. In which Harry has to pay for his Supper

Colonel Esmond's grandson rang for a while at his ancestors' house of
Castlewood, before any one within seemed inclined to notice his summons.
The servant, who at length issued from the door, seemed to be very
little affected by the announcement that the visitor was a relation of
the family. The family was away, and in their absence John cared very
little for their relatives, but was eager to get back to his game at
cards with Thomas in the window-seat. The housekeeper was busy getting
ready for my lord and my lady, who were expected that evening. Only by
strong entreaties could Harry gain leave to see my lady's sitting-room
and the picture-room, where, sure enough, was a portrait of his
grandfather in periwig and breastplate, the counterpart of their picture
in Virginia, and a likeness of his grandmother, as Lady Castlewood, in a
yet earlier habit of Charles II.'s time; her neck bare, her fair golden
hair waving over her shoulders in ringlets which he remembered to have
seen snowy white. From the contemplation of these sights the sulky
housekeeper drove him. Her family was about to arrive. There was my lady
the Countess, and my lord and his brother, and the young ladies, and the
Baroness, who was to have the state bedroom. Who was the Baroness? The
Baroness Bernstein, the young ladies' aunt. Harry wrote down his name
on a paper from his own pocket-book, and laid it on a table in the hall.
"Henry Esmond Warrington, of Castlewood, in Virginia, arrived in England
yesterday--staying at the Three Castles in the village." The lackeys
rose up from their cards to open the door to him, in order to get their
"wails," and Gumbo quitted the bench at the gate, where he had been
talking with old Lockwood, the porter, who took Harry's guinea, hardly
knowing the meaning of the gift. During the visit to the home of his
fathers, Harry had only seen little Polly's countenance that was
the least unselfish or kindly: he walked away, not caring to own how
disappointed he was, and what a damp had been struck upon him by the
aspect of the place. They ou