m a great
chased salver, of which he was pointing out the beauties as Colonel
Esmond entered. "Come," says she, "cousin, and admire the taste of this
pretty thing." I think Mars and Venus were lying in the golden bower,
that one gilt Cupid carried off the war-god's casque--another his
sword--another his great buckler, upon which my Lord Duke Hamilton's
arms with ours were to be engraved--and a fourth was kneeling down to
the reclining goddess with the ducal coronet in her hands, God help us!
The next time Mr. Esmond saw that piece of plate, the arms were changed,
the ducal coronet had been replaced by a viscount's; it formed part of
the fortune of the thrifty goldsmith's own daughter, when she married my
Lord Viscount Squanderfield two years after.

"Isn't this a beautiful piece?" says Beatrix, examining it, and she
pointed out the arch graces of the Cupids, and the fine carving of the
languid prostrate Mars. Esmond sickened as he thought of the warrior
dead in his chamber, his servants and children weeping around him; and
of this smiling creature attiring herself, as it were, for that nuptial
death-bed. "'Tis a pretty piece of vanity," says he, looking gloomily at
the beautiful creature: there were flambeaux in the room lighting up the
brilliant mistress of it. She lifted up the great gold salver with her
fair arms.

"Vanity!" says she, haughtily. "What is vanity in you, sir, is propriety
in me. You ask a Jewish price for it, Mr. Graves; but have it I will, if
only to spite Mr. Esmond."

"Oh, Beatrix, lay it down!" says Mr. Esmond. "Herodias! you know not
what you carry in the charger."

She dropped it with a clang; the eager goldsmith running to seize
his fallen ware. The lady's face caught the fright from Esmond's pale
countenance, and her eyes shone out like beacons of alarm:--"What is it,
Henry!" says she, running to him, and seizing both his hands. "What do
you mean by your pale face and gloomy tones?"

"Come away, come away!" says Esmond, leading her: she clung frightened
to him, and he supported her upon his heart, bidding the scared
goldsmith leave them. The man went into the next apartment, staring with
surprise, and hugging his precious charger.

"Oh, my Beatrix, my sister!" says Esmond, still holding in his arms the
pallid and affrighted creature, "you have the greatest courage of any
woman in the world; prepare to show it now, for you have a dreadful
trial to bear."

She sprang away from the friend