and cheering and talking to them; and by a hundred of his looks and
gestures, tricks of voice and gait, was reminded of the dead lord, Frank's
father.

And so, the Sylvester Night passed away; the family parted long before
midnight, Lady Castlewood remembering, no doubt, former New-Year's Eves,
when healths were drunk, and laughter went round in the company of him to
whom years, past, and present, and future, were to be as one; and so cared
not to sit with her children and hear the cathedral bells ringing the
birth of the year 1703. Esmond heard the chimes as he sat in his own
chamber, ruminating by the blazing fire there, and listened to the last
notes of them, looking out from his window towards the city, and the great
grey towers of the cathedral lying under the frosty sky, with the keen
stars shining above.

The sight of these brilliant orbs no doubt made him think of other
luminaries. "And so her eyes have already done execution," thought
Esmond--"on whom?--who can tell me?" Luckily his kinsman was by, and Esmond
knew he would have no difficulty in finding out Mistress Beatrix's history
from the simple talk of the boy.

Chapter VIII. Family Talk

What Harry admired and submitted to in the pretty lad, his kinsman, was
(for why should he resist it?) the calmness of patronage which my young
lord assumed, as if to command was his undoubted right, and all the world
(below his degree) ought to bow down to Viscount Castlewood.

"I know my place, Harry," he said. "I'm not proud--the boys at Winchester
College say I'm proud: but I'm not proud. I am simply Francis James
Viscount Castlewood in the peerage of Ireland. I might have been (do you
know that?) Francis James Marquis and Earl of Esmond in that of England.
The late lord refused the title which was offered to him by my godfather,
his late Majesty. You should know that--you are of our family, you know--you
cannot help your bar sinister, Harry, my dear fellow; and you belong to
one of the best families in England, in spite of that; and you stood by my
father, and by G----! I'll stand by you. You shall never want a friend,
Harry, while Francis James Viscount Castlewood has a shilling. It's now
1703--I shall come of age in 1709. I shall go back to Castlewood; I shall
live at Castlewood; I shall build up the house. My property will be pretty
well restored by then. The late viscount mismanaged my property, and left
it in a very bad state. My mother is living close