is own
calling was in no way the pulpit. But as he was bound, before all things
in the world, to his dear mistress at home, and knew that a refusal on his
part would grieve her, he determined to give her no hint of his
unwillingness to the clerical office; and it was in this unsatisfactory
mood of mind that he went to spend the last vacation he should have at
Castlewood before he took orders.

Chapter XI. I Come Home For A Holiday To Castlewood, And Find A Skeleton
In The House

At his third long vacation, Esmond came as usual to Castlewood, always
feeling an eager thrill of pleasure when he found himself once more in the
house where he had passed so many years, and beheld the kind familiar eyes
of his mistress looking upon him. She and her children (out of whose
company she scarce ever saw him) came to greet him. Miss Beatrix was grown
so tall that Harry did not quite know whether he might kiss her or no; and
she blushed and held back when he offered that salutation, though she took
it, and even courted it, when they were alone. The young lord was shooting
up to be like his gallant father in look, though with his mother's kind
eyes: the Lady of Castlewood herself seemed grown, too, since Harry saw
her--in her look more stately, in her person fuller, in her face, still as
ever most tender and friendly, a greater air of command and decision than
had appeared in that guileless sweet countenance which Harry remembered so
gratefully. The tone of her voice was so much deeper and sadder when she
spoke and welcomed him, that it quite startled Esmond, who looked up at
her surprised as she spoke, when she withdrew her eyes from him; nor did
she ever look at him afterwards when his own eyes were gazing upon her. A
something hinting at grief and secret, and filling his mind with alarm
undefinable, seemed to speak with that low thrilling voice of hers, and
look out of those dear sad eyes. Her greeting to Esmond was so cold that
it almost pained the lad (who would have liked to fall on his knees and
kiss the skirt of her robe, so fond and ardent was his respect and regard
for her), and he faltered in answering the questions which she, hesitating
on her side, began to put to him. Was he happy at Cambridge? Did he study
too hard? She hoped not. He had grown very tall, and looked very well.

"He has got a moustache!" cries out Master Esmond.

"Why does he not wear a peruke like my Lord Mohun?" asked Miss Beatrix.
"My lord says