oo late," says Esmond; "he may not have gone to
Castlewood; pray God, it is not too late." The bishop was breaking out
with some _banales_ phrases about loyalty and the sacredness of the
sovereign's person; but Esmond sternly bade him hold his tongue, burn all
papers, and take care of Lady Castlewood; and in five minutes he and Frank
were in the saddle, John Lockwood behind them, riding towards Castlewood
at a rapid pace.

We were just got to Alton, when who should meet us but old Lockwood, the
porter from Castlewood, John's father, walking by the side of the Hexham
flying-coach, who slept the night at Alton. Lockwood said his young
mistress had arrived at home on Wednesday night, and this morning, Friday,
had dispatched him with a packet for my lady at Kensington, saying the
letter was of great importance.

We took the freedom to break it, while Lockwood stared with wonder, and
cried out his "Lord bless me's", and "Who'd a thought it's", at the sight
of his young lord, whom he had not seen these seven years.

The packet from Beatrix contained no news of importance at all. It was
written in a jocular strain, affecting to make light of her captivity. She
asked whether she might have leave to visit Mrs. Tusher, or to walk beyond
the court and the garden-wall. She gave news of the peacocks, and a fawn
she had there. She bade her mother send her certain gowns and smocks by
old Lockwood; she sent her duty to a certain person, if certain other
persons permitted her to take such a freedom; how that, as she was not
able to play cards with him, she hoped he would read good books, such as
Dr. Atterbury's sermons and _Eikon Basilike_: she was going to read good
books: she thought her pretty mamma would like to know she was not crying
her eyes out.

"Who is in the house besides you, Lockwood?" says the colonel.

"There be the laundry-maid, and the kitchen-maid, Madam Beatrix's maid,
the man from London, and that be all; and he sleepeth in my lodge away
from the maids," says old Lockwood.

Esmond scribbled a line with a pencil on the note, giving it to the old
man, and bidding him go on to his lady. We knew why Beatrix had been so
dutiful on a sudden, and why she spoke of _Eikon Basilike_. She writ this
letter to put the prince on the scent, and the porter out of the way.

"We have a fine moonlight night for riding on," says Esmond; "Frank, we
may reach Castlewood in time yet." All the way along they made inquiries
at the pos