or justice, and the king refuses me. The
king! he is no king of mine--he never shall be. He, too, robbed the throne
from the king his father--the true king--and he has gone unpunished, as the
great do.'

"I then thought to speak for you," Mr. Steele continued, "and I interposed
by saying, 'There was one, madam, who, at least, would have put his own
breast between your husband's and my Lord Mohun's sword. Your poor young
kinsman, Harry Esmond, hath told me that he tried to draw the quarrel on
himself.'

" 'Are you come from _him_?' asked the lady" (so Mr. Steele went on),
"rising up with a great severity and stateliness. 'I thought you had come
from the princess. I saw Mr. Esmond in his prison, and bade him farewell.
He brought misery into my house. He never should have entered it.'

" 'Madam, madam, he is not to blame,' I interposed," continued Mr. Steele.

" 'Do I blame him to you, sir?' asked the widow. 'If 'tis he who sent you,
say that I have taken counsel, where'--she spoke with a very pallid cheek
now, and a break in her voice--'where all who ask may have it;--and that it
bids me to part from him, and to see him no more. We met in the prison for
the last time--at least for years to come. It may be, in years hence,
when--when our knees and our tears and our contrition have changed our
sinful hearts, sir, and wrought our pardon, we may meet again--but not now.
After what has passed, I could not bear to see him. I wish him well, sir;
but I wish him farewell, too; and if he has that--that regard towards us
which he speaks of, I beseech him to prove it by obeying me in this.'

" 'I shall break the young man's heart, madam, by this hard sentence,' "
Mr. Steele said.

"The lady shook her head," continued my kind scholar. " 'The hearts of
young men, Mr. Steele, are not so made,' she said. 'Mr. Esmond will find
other--other friends. The mistress of this house has relented very much
towards the late lord's son,' she added, with a blush, 'and has promised
me, that is, has promised that she will care for his fortune. Whilst I
live in it, after the horrid, horrid deed which has passed, Castlewood
must never be a home to him--never. Nor would I have him write to
me--except--no--I would have him never write to me, nor see him more. Give
him, if you will, my parting--Hush! not a word of this before my daughter.'

"Here the fair Beatrix entered from the river, with her cheeks flushing
with health, and looking only the more l