nty-five, sir--I choose to be twenty-five; and in eight years no man
hath ever touched my heart. Yes--you did once, for a little, Harry, when
you came back after Lille, and engaging with that murderer Mohun, and
saving Frank's life. I thought I could like you; and mamma begged me
hard, on her knees, and I did--for a day. But the old chill came over
me, Henry, and the old fear of you and your melancholy; and I was glad
when you went away, and engaged with my Lord Ashburnham, that I might
hear no more of you, that's the truth. You are too good for me, somehow.
I could not make you happy, and should break my heart in trying, and
not being able to love you. But if you had asked me when we gave you
the sword, you might have had me, sir, and we both should have been
miserable by this time. I talked with that silly lord all night just to
vex you and mamma, and I succeeded, didn't I? How frankly we can talk
of these things! It seems a thousand years ago: and, though we are here
sitting in the same room, there is a great wall between us. My dear,
kind, faithful, gloomy old cousin! I can like now, and admire you too,
sir, and say that you are brave, and very kind, and very true, and a
fine gentleman for all--for all your little mishap at your birth," says
she, wagging her arch head.

"And now, sir," says she, with a curtsy, "we must have no more talk
except when mamma is by, as his Grace is with us; for he does not half
like you, cousin, and is jealous as the black man in your favorite
play."

Though the very kindness of the words stabbed Mr. Esmond with the
keenest pang, he did not show his sense of the wound by any look of his
(as Beatrix, indeed, afterwards owned to him), but said, with a perfect
command of himself and an easy smile, "The interview must not end yet,
my dear, until I have had my last word. Stay, here comes your mother"
(indeed she came in here with her sweet anxious face, and Esmond going
up kissed her hand respectfully). "My dear lady may hear, too, the
last words, which are no secrets, and are only a parting benediction
accompanying a present for your marriage from an old gentleman your
guardian; for I feel as if I was the guardian of all the family, and an
old old fellow that is fit to be the grandfather of you all; and in this
character let me make my Lady Duchess her wedding present. They are the
diamonds my father's widow left me. I had thought Beatrix might have
had them a year ago; but they are good en