was set in the oak
dining-room with the pictures of the family round the walls. There was
the late Viscount, his father, his mother, his sister--these two lovely
pictures. There was his predecessor by Vandyck, and his Viscountess.
There was Colonel Esmond, their relative in Virginia, about whose
grandson the ladies and gentlemen of the Esmond family showed such a
very moderate degree of sympathy.

The feast set before their aunt, the Baroness, was a very good one,
and her ladyship enjoyed it. The supper occupied an hour or two, during
which the whole Castlewood family were most attentive to their guest.
The Countess pressed all the good dishes upon her, of which she freely
partook: the butler no sooner saw her glass empty than he filled it with
champagne: the young folks and their mother kept up the conversation,
not so much by talking, as by listening appropriately to their friend.
She was full of spirits and humour. She seemed to know everybody in
Europe, and about those everybodies the wickedest stories. The Countess
of Castlewood, ordinarily a very demure, severe woman, and a stickler
for the proprieties, smiled at the very worst of these anecdotes; the
girls looked at one another and laughed at the maternal signal; the boys
giggled and roared with especial delight at their sisters' confusion.
They also partook freely of the wine which the butler handed round, nor
did they, or their guest, disdain the bowl of smoking punch, which was
laid on the table after the supper. Many and many a night, the Baroness
said, she had drunk at that table by her father's side. "That was his
place," she pointed to the place where the Countess now sat. She saw
none of the old plate. That was all melted to pay his gambling debts.
She hoped, "Young gentlemen, that you don't play."

"Never, on my word," says Castlewood.

"Never, 'pon honour," says Will--winking at his brother.

The Baroness was very glad to hear they were such good boys. Her face
grew redder with the punch; and she became voluble, might have been
thought coarse, but that times were different, and those critics were
inclined to be especially favourable.

She talked to the boys about their father, their grandfather--other men
and women of the house. "The only man of the family was that," she said,
pointing (with an arm that was yet beautifully round and white) towards
the picture of the military gentleman in the red coat and cuirass, and
great black periwig.

"The V