been parted, and again, as if they had been ages asunder.) "I always
thought you had no vocation that way; and that 'twas a pity to shut you
out from the world. You would but have pined and chafed at Castlewood: and
'tis better you should make a name for yourself. I often said so to my
dear lord. How he loved you! 'Twas my lord that made you stay with us."

"I asked no better than to stay near you always," said Mr. Esmond.

"But to go was best, Harry. When the world cannot give peace, you will
know where to find it; but one of your strong imagination and eager
desires must try the world first before he tires of it. 'Twas not to be
thought of, or if it once was, it was only by my selfishness that you
should remain as chaplain to a country gentleman and tutor to a little
boy. You are of the blood of the Esmonds, kinsman; and that was always
wild in youth. Look at Francis. He is but fifteen, and I scarce can keep
him in my nest. His talk is all of war and pleasure, and he longs to serve
in the next campaign. Perhaps he and the young Lord Churchill shall go the
next. Lord Marlborough has been good to us. You know how kind they were in
my misfortune. And so was your--your father's widow. No one knows how good
the world is, till grief comes to try us. 'Tis through my Lady
Marlborough's goodness that Beatrix hath her place at Court; and Frank is
under my Lord Chamberlain. And the dowager lady, your father's widow, has
promised to provide for you--has she not?"

Esmond said, "Yes. As far as present favour went, Lady Castlewood was very
good to him. And should her mind change," he added gaily, "as ladies'
minds will, I am strong enough to bear my own burden, and make my way
somehow. Not by the sword very likely. Thousands have a better genius for
that than I, but there are many ways in which a young man of good parts
and education can get on in the world; and I am pretty sure, one way or
other, of promotion!" Indeed, he had found patrons already in the army,
and amongst persons very able to serve him, too; and told his mistress of
the flattering aspect of fortune. They walked as though they had never
been parted, slowly, with the grey twilight closing round them.

"And now we are drawing near to home," she continued. "I knew you would
come, Harry, if--if it was but to forgive me for having spoken unjustly to
you after that horrid--horrid misfortune. I was half frantic with grief
then when I saw you. And I know now--they have to