r grandfather?"

"She never spoke of one."

"Nor your grandfather?"

"Never. But in his picture-books, which he constantly made for us
children, he used to draw a head very like that above your ladyship.
That, and Viscount Francis, and King James III., he drew a score of
times, I am sure."

"And the picture over me reminds you of no one, Harry?"

"No, indeed."

"Ah! Here is a sermon!" says the lady, with a sigh. "Harry, that was my
face once--yes, it was--and then I was called Beatrix Esmond. And your
mother is my half-sister, child, and she has never even mentioned my
name!"

CHAPTER V. Family Jars

As Harry Warrington related to his new-found relative the simple story
of his adventures at home, no doubt Madam Bernstein, who possessed a
great sense of humour and a remarkable knowledge of the world, formed
her judgment respecting the persons and events described; and if her
opinion was not in all respects favourable, what can be said but that
men and women are imperfect, and human life not entirely pleasant or
profitable? The court and city-bred lady recoiled at the mere thought of
her American sister's countrified existence. Such a life would be rather
wearisome to most city-bred ladies. But little Madam Warrington knew no
better, and was satisfied with her life, as indeed she was with herself
in general. Because you and I are epicures or dainty feeders, it does
not follow that Hodge is miserable with his homely meal of bread and
bacon. Madam Warrington had a life of duties and employments which might
be humdrum, but at any rate were pleasant to her. She was a brisk little
woman of business, and all the affairs of her large estate came under
her cognisance. No pie was baked at Castlewood but her little finger was
in it. She set the maids to their spinning, she saw the kitchen wenches
at their work, she trotted afield on her pony, and oversaw the overseers
and the negro hands as they worked in the tobacco-and corn-fields. If a
slave was ill, she would go to his quarters in any weather, and doctor
him with great resolution. She had a book full of receipts after the old
fashion, and a closet where she distilled waters and compounded elixirs,
and a medicine-chest which was the terror of her neighbours. They
trembled to be ill, lest the little lady should be upon them with her
decoctions and her pills.

A hundred years back there were scarce any towns in Virginia; the
establishments of the gentry were li