ung frightened to
him, and he supported her upon his heart, bidding the scared goldsmith
leave them. The man went into the next apartment, staring with surprise,
and hugging his precious charger.

"O my Beatrix, my sister!" says Esmond, still holding in his arms the
pallid and affrighted creature, "you have the greatest courage of any
woman in the world; prepare to show it now, for you have a dreadful trial
to bear."

She sprang away from the friend who would have protected her:--"Hath he
left me?" says she. "We had words this morning: he was very gloomy, and I
angered him: but he dared not, he dared not!" As she spoke a burning blush
flushed over her whole face and bosom. Esmond saw it reflected in the
glass by which she stood, with clenched hands, pressing her swelling
heart.

"He has left you," says Esmond, wondering that rage rather than sorrow was
in her looks.

"And he is alive," cries Beatrix, "and you bring me this commission! He
has left me, and you haven't dared to avenge me! You, that pretend to be
the champion of our house, have let me suffer this insult! Where is
Castlewood? I will go to my brother."

"The duke is not alive, Beatrix," said Esmond.

She looked at her cousin wildly, and fell back to the wall as though shot
in the breast:--"And you come here, and--and--you killed him?"

"No; thank Heaven," her kinsman said, "the blood of that noble heart doth
not stain my sword! In its last hour it was faithful to thee, Beatrix
Esmond. Vain and cruel woman! kneel and thank the awful Heaven which
awards life and death, and chastises pride, that the noble Hamilton died
true to you; at least that 'twas not your quarrel, or your pride, or your
wicked vanity, that drove him to his fate. He died by the bloody sword
which already had drank your own father's blood. O woman, O sister! to
that sad field where two corpses are lying--for the murderer died too by
the hand of the man he slew--can you bring no mourners but your revenge and
your vanity? God help and pardon thee, Beatrix, as He brings this awful
punishment to your hard and rebellious heart."

Esmond had scarce done speaking, when his mistress came in. The colloquy
between him and Beatrix had lasted but a few minutes, during which time
Esmond's servant had carried the disastrous news through the household.
The army of Vanity Fair, waiting without, gathered up all their fripperies
and fled aghast. Tender Lady Castlewood had been in talk above with Dean