n I
have. At any rate, change of air will do you good, my Lord Mohun. And I
mean fairly that you had better go from Castlewood."

"And were you appointed to give me this message?" cries the Lord Mohun.
"Did Frank Esmond commission you?"

"No one did. 'Twas the honor of my family that commissioned me."

"And you are prepared to answer this?" cries the other, furiously
lashing his horses.

"Quite, my lord: your lordship will upset the carriage if you whip so
hotly."

"By George, you have a brave spirit!" my lord cried out, bursting into a
laugh. "I suppose 'tis that infernal botte de Jesuite that makes you so
bold," he added.

"'Tis the peace of the family I love best in the world," Harry Esmond
said warmly--"'tis the honor of a noble benefactor--the happiness of my
dear mistress and her children. I owe them everything in life, my lord;
and would lay it down for any one of them. What brings you here to
disturb this quiet household? What keeps you lingering month after month
in the country? What makes you feign illness, and invent pretexts for
delay? Is it to win my poor patron's money? Be generous, my lord, and
spare his weakness for the sake of his wife and children. Is it to
practise upon the simple heart of a virtuous lady? You might as well
storm the Tower single-handed. But you may blemish her name by light
comments on it, or by lawless pursuits--and I don't deny that 'tis in
your power to make her unhappy. Spare these innocent people, and leave
them."

"By the Lord, I believe thou hast an eye to the pretty Puritan thyself,
Master Harry," says my lord, with his reckless, good-humored laugh, and
as if he had been listening with interest to the passionate appeal of
the young man. "Whisper, Harry. Art thou in love with her thyself? Hath
tipsy Frank Esmond come by the way of all flesh?"

"My lord, my lord," cried Harry, his face flushing and his eyes filling
as he spoke, "I never had a mother, but I love this lady as one. I
worship her as a devotee worships a saint. To hear her name spoken
lightly seems blasphemy to me. Would you dare think of your own mother
so, or suffer any one so to speak of her? It is a horror to me to fancy
that any man should think of her impurely. I implore you, I beseech you,
to leave her. Danger will come out of it."

"Danger, psha!" says my lord, giving a cut to the horses, which at this
minute--for we were got on to the Downs--fairly ran off into a gallop
that no pulling could sto