. I have watched you as I looked up from my books."

"You young Argus!" says Lord Mohun, who liked Harry Esmond--and for whose
company and wit, and a certain daring manner, Harry had a great liking
too--"You young Argus! you may look with all your hundred eyes and see we
play fair. I've played away an estate of a night, and I've played my shirt
off my back; and I've played away my periwig and gone home in a nightcap.
But no man can say I ever took an advantage of him beyond the advantage of
the game. I played a dice-cogging scoundrel in Alsatia for his ears and
won 'em, and have one of 'em in my lodging in Bow Street in a bottle of
spirits. Harry Mohun will play any man for anything--always would."

"You are playing awful stakes, my lord, in my patron's house," Harry said,
"and more games than are on the cards."

"What do you mean, sir?" cries my lord, turning round, with a flush on his
face.

"I mean," answers Harry, in a sarcastic tone, "that your gout is well--if
ever you had it."

"Sir!" cried my lord, getting hot.

"And to tell the truth I believe your lordship has no more gout than I
have. At any rate, change of air will do you good, my Lord Mohun. And I
mean fairly that you had better go from Castlewood."

"And were you appointed to give me this message?" cries the Lord Mohun.
"Did Frank Esmond commission you?"

"No one did. 'Twas the honour of my family that commissioned me."

"And you are prepared to answer this?" cries the other, furiously lashing
his horses.

"Quite, my lord: your lordship will upset the carriage if you whip so
hotly."

"By George, you have a brave spirit!" my lord cried out, bursting into a
laugh. "I suppose 'tis that infernal _botte de Jesuite_ that makes you so
bold," he added.

"'Tis the peace of the family I love best in the world," Harry Esmond said
warmly--"'tis the honour of a noble benefactor--the happiness of my dear
mistress and her children. I owe them everything in life, my lord; and
would lay it down for any one of them. What brings you here to disturb
this quiet household? What keeps you lingering month after month in the
country? What makes you feign illness and invent pretexts for delay? Is it
to win my poor patron's money? Be generous, my lord, and spare his
weakness for the sake of his wife and children. Is it to practise upon the
simple heart of a virtuous lady? You might as well storm the Tower
single-handed. But you may blemish her name by light comments on