who would have protected her:--"Hath he
left me?" says she. "We had words this morning: he was very gloomy, and
I angered him: but he dared not, he dared not!" As she spoke a burning
blush flushed over her whole face and bosom. Esmond saw it reflected in
the glass by which she stood, with clenched hands, pressing her swelling
heart.

"He has left you," says Esmond, wondering that rage rather than sorrow
was in her looks.

"And he is alive," cried Beatrix, "and you bring me this commission! He
has left me, and you haven't dared to avenge me! You, that pretend to
be the champion of our house, have let me suffer this insult! Where is
Castlewood? I will go to my brother."

"The Duke is not alive, Beatrix," said Esmond.

She looked at her cousin wildly, and fell back to the wall as though
shot in the breast:--"And you come here, and--and--you killed him?"

"No; thank heaven!" her kinsman said. "The blood of that noble heart
doth not stain my sword! In its last hour it was faithful to thee,
Beatrix Esmond. Vain and cruel woman! kneel and thank the awful heaven
which awards life and death, and chastises pride, that the noble
Hamilton died true to you; at least that 'twas not your quarrel, or your
pride, or your wicked vanity, that drove him to his fate. He died by the
bloody sword which already had drank your own father's blood. O woman, O
sister! to that sad field where two corpses are lying--for the murderer
died too by the hand of the man he slew--can you bring no mourners but
your revenge and your vanity? God help and pardon thee, Beatrix, as he
brings this awful punishment to your hard and rebellious heart."

Esmond had scarce done speaking, when his mistress came in. The colloquy
between him and Beatrix had lasted but a few minutes, during which time
Esmond's servant had carried the disastrous news through the household.
The army of Vanity Fair, waiting without, gathered up all their
fripperies and fled aghast. Tender Lady Castlewood had been in talk
above with Dean Atterbury, the pious creature's almoner and director;
and the Dean had entered with her as a physician whose place was at
a sick-bed. Beatrix's mother looked at Esmond and ran towards her
daughter, with a pale face and open heart and hands, all kindness
and pity. But Beatrix passed her by, nor would she have any of the
medicaments of the spiritual physician. "I am best in my own room and by
myself," she said. Her eyes were quite dry; nor did Esmond eve