lord, uttering what seemed curses,
but in a foreign language, went to the Chaplain's room to bed.

"Was this all!"--"All," the man swore upon his honor; all as he hoped
to be saved.--"Stop, there was one thing more. My lord, on arriving, and
once or twice during supper, did kiss his sister, as was natural, and
she kissed him." At this Esmond ground his teeth with rage, and wellnigh
throttled the amazed miscreant who was speaking, whereas Castlewood,
seizing hold of his cousin's hand, burst into a great fit of laughter.

"If it amuses thee," says Esmond in French, "that your sister should be
exchanging of kisses with a stranger, I fear poor Beatrix will give thee
plenty of sport."--Esmond darkly thought, how Hamilton, Ashburnham, had
before been masters of those roses that the young Prince's lips were now
feeding on. He sickened at that notion. Her cheek was desecrated, her
beauty tarnished; shame and honor stood between it and him. The love
was dead within him; had she a crown to bring him with her love, he felt
that both would degrade him.

But this wrath against Beatrix did not lessen the angry feelings of the
Colonel against the man who had been the occasion if not the cause of
the evil. Frank sat down on a stone bench in the court-yard, and fairly
fell asleep, while Esmond paced up and down the court, debating what
should ensue. What mattered how much or how little had passed between
the Prince and the poor faithless girl? They were arrived in time
perhaps to rescue her person, but not her mind; had she not instigated
the young Prince to come to her; suborned servants, dismissed others,
so that she might communicate with him? The treacherous heart within her
had surrendered, though the place was safe; and it was to win this that
he had given a life's struggle and devotion; this, that she was ready to
give away for the bribe of a coronet or a wink of the Prince's eye.

When he had thought his thoughts out he shook up poor Frank from his
sleep, who rose yawning, and said he had been dreaming of Clotilda.
"You must back me," says Esmond, "in what I am going to do. I have been
thinking that yonder scoundrel may have been instructed to tell that
story, and that the whole of it may be a lie; if it be, we shall find it
out from the gentleman who is asleep yonder. See if the door leading to
my lady's rooms," (so we called the rooms at the north-west angle of the
house,) "see if the door is barred as he saith." We tried;