g opposite him, gazing with no small
tenderness and melancholy upon two persons who had had so much of his
heart for so many years; Lord Castlewood, with a start, pulled at his
mother's sleeve (her face had scarce been lifted from her book), and said,
"Look, mother!" so loud, that Esmond could hear on the other side of the
church, and the old dean on his throned stall. Lady Castlewood looked for
an instant as her son bade her, and held up a warning finger to Frank;
Esmond felt his whole face flush, and his heart throbbing, as that dear
lady beheld him once more. The rest of the prayers were speedily over: Mr.
Esmond did not hear them; nor did his mistress, very likely, whose hood
went more closely over her face, and who never lifted her head again until
the service was over, the blessing given, and Mr. Dean, and his procession
of ecclesiastics, out of the inner chapel.

Young Castlewood came clambering over the stalls before the clergy were
fairly gone, and, running up to Esmond, eagerly embraced him. "My dear,
dearest old Harry," he said, "are you come back? Have you been to the
wars? You'll take me with you when you go again? Why didn't you write to
us? Come to mother."

Mr. Esmond could hardly say more than a "God bless you, my boy", for his
heart was very full and grateful at all this tenderness on the lad's part;
and he was as much moved at seeing Frank, as he was fearful about that
other interview which was now to take place; for he knew not if the widow
would reject him as she had done so cruelly a year ago.

"It was kind of you to come back to us, Henry," Lady Esmond said, "I
thought you might come."

"We read of the fleet coming to Portsmouth. Why did you not come from
Portsmouth?" Frank asked, or my lord viscount, as he now must be called.

Esmond had thought of that too. He would have given one of his eyes so
that he might see his dear friends again once more; but believing that his
mistress had forbidden him her house, he had obeyed her, and remained at a
distance.

"You had but to ask, and you knew I would be here," he said.

She gave him her hand, her little fair hand: there was only her marriage
ring on it. The quarrel was all over. The year of grief and estrangement
was passed. They never had been separated. His mistress had never been out
of his mind all that time. No, not once. No, not in the prison; nor in the
camp; nor on shore before the enemy; nor at sea under the stars of solemn
midnight, n