; and Esmond's man was ordered to keep sentry in the gallery
without the door. The Prince dined with a good appetite, laughing and
talking very gayly, and condescendingly bidding his two companions
to sit with him at table. He was in better spirits than poor Frank
Castlewood, who Esmond thought might be woe-begone on account of parting
with his divine Clotilda; but the Prince wishing to take a short siesta
after dinner, and retiring to an inner chamber where there was a bed,
the cause of poor Frank's discomfiture came out; and bursting into
tears, with many expressions of fondness, friendship, and humiliation,
the faithful lad gave his kinsman to understand that he now knew all the
truth, and the sacrifices which Colonel Esmond had made for him.

Seeing no good in acquainting poor Frank with that secret, Mr. Esmond
had entreated his mistress also not to reveal it to her son. The Prince
had told the poor lad all as they were riding from Dover: "I had as lief
he had shot me, cousin," Frank said: "I knew you were the best, and the
bravest, and the kindest of all men" (so the enthusiastic young fellow
went on); "but I never thought I owed you what I do, and can scarce bear
the weight of the obligation."

"I stand in the place of your father," says Mr. Esmond, kindly, "and
sure a father may dispossess himself in favor of his son. I abdicate the
twopenny crown, and invest you with the kingdom of Brentford; don't be a
fool and cry; you make a much taller and handsomer viscount than ever
I could." But the fond boy, with oaths and protestations, laughter and
incoherent outbreaks of passionate emotion, could not be got, for some
little time, to put up with Esmond's raillery; wanted to kneel down to
him, and kissed his hand; asked him and implored him to order something,
to bid Castlewood give his own life or take somebody else's; anything,
so that he might show his gratitude for the generosity Esmond showed
him.

"The K---, HE laughed," Frank said, pointing to the door where the
sleeper was, and speaking in a low tone. "I don't think he should have
laughed as he told me the story. As we rode along from Dover, talking in
French, he spoke about you, and your coming to him at Bar; he called
you 'le grand serieux,' Don Bellianis of Greece, and I don't know what
names; mimicking your manner" (here Castlewood laughed himself)--"and
he did it very well. He seems to sneer at everything. He is not like a
king: somehow Harry, I fancy you