her use, my dear; and what do you know about money?" cries my lord.
"And what the devil is there that I don't give you which you want?"

"I intend to give this money--can't you fancy how, my lord?"

My lord swore one of his large oaths that he did not know in the least
what she meant.

"I intend it for Harry Esmond to go to college.--Cousin Harry," says my
lady, "you mustn't stay longer in this dull place, but make a name to
yourself, and for us too, Harry."

"D----n it, Harry's well enough here," says my lord, for a moment looking
rather sulky.

"Is Harry going away? You don't mean to say you will go away?" cry out
Frank and Beatrix at one breath.

"But he will come back: and this will always be his home," cries my lady,
with blue eyes looking a celestial kindness: "and his scholars will always
love him; won't they?"

"By G----d, Rachel, you're a good woman!" says my lord, seizing my lady's
hand, at which she blushed very much, and shrank back, putting her
children before her. "I wish you joy, my kinsman," he continued, giving
Harry Esmond a hearty slap on the shoulder. "I won't balk your luck. Go to
Cambridge, boy; and when Tusher dies you shall have the living here, if
you are not better provided by that time. We'll furnish the dining-room
and buy the horses another year. I'll give thee a nag out of the stable:
take any one except my hack and the bay gelding and the coach-horses; and
God speed thee, my boy!"

"Have the sorrel, Harry; 'tis a good one. Father says 'tis the best in the
stable," says little Frank, clapping his hands, and jumping up. "Let's
come and see him in the stable." And the other, in his delight and
eagerness, was for leaving the room that instant to arrange about his
journey.

The Lady Castlewood looked after him with sad penetrating glances. "He
wishes to be gone already, my lord," said she to her husband.

The young man hung back abashed. "Indeed, I would stay for ever, if your
ladyship bade me," he said.

"And thou wouldst be a fool for thy pains, kinsman," said my lord. "Tut,
tut, man. Go and see the world. Sow thy wild oats; and take the best luck
that Fate sends thee. I wish I were a boy again that I might go to
college, and taste the Trumpington ale."

"Ours indeed is but a dull home," cries my lady, with a little of sadness,
and maybe of satire, in her voice: "an old glum house, half ruined, and
the rest only half furnished; a woman and two children are but poor
company for