nd Marquis of Esmond, bestowed by patent royal, and
in the fourth year of his reign, upon Thomas Viscount Castlewood and
the heirs-male of his body, in default of which issue the ranks and
dignities were to pass to Francis aforesaid.

This was the paper, whereof my lord had spoken, which Holt showed him
the very day he was arrested, and for an answer to which he would come
back in a week's time. I put these papers hastily into the crypt whence
I had taken them, being interrupted by a tapping of a light finger at
the ring of the chamber-door: 'twas my kind mistress, with her face full
of love and welcome. She, too, had passed the night wakefuly, no doubt;
but neither asked the other how the hours had been spent. There are
things we divine without speaking, and know though they happen out of
our sight. This fond lady hath told me that she knew both days when
I was wounded abroad. Who shall say how far sympathy reaches, and how
truly love can prophesy? "I looked into your room," was all she said;
"the bed was vacant, the little old bed! I knew I should find you here."
And tender and blushing faintly with a benediction in her eyes, the
gentle creature kissed him.

They walked out, hand-in-hand, through the old court, and to the
terrace-walk, where the grass was glistening with dew, and the birds in
the green woods above were singing their delicious choruses under the
blushing morning sky. How well all things were remembered! The ancient
towers and gables of the hall darkling against the east, the purple
shadows on the green slopes, the quaint devices and carvings of the
dial, the forest-crowned heights, the fair yellow plain cheerful with
crops and corn, the shining river rolling through it towards the pearly
hills beyond; all these were before us, along with a thousand beautiful
memories of our youth, beautiful and sad, but as real and vivid in our
minds as that fair and always-remembered scene our eyes beheld once
more. We forget nothing. The memory sleeps, but wakens again; I often
think how it shall be when, after the last sleep of death, the
reveillee shall arouse us for ever, and the past in one flash of
self-consciousness rush back, like the soul revivified.

The house would not be up for some hours yet, (it was July, and the dawn
was only just awake,) and here Esmond opened himself to his mistress, of
the business he had in hand, and what part Frank was to play in it. He
knew he could confide anything to her, and