Castlewood he had felt himself at least the equal. In Colonel Lambert
he found a man who had read far more books than Harry could pretend to
judge of, and who had goodness and honesty written on his face and
breathing from his lips.

As for the women, they were the kindest, merriest, most agreeable he had
ever known. Here was a tranquil, sunshiny day of a life that was to be
agitated and stormy. He was not in love, either with saucy Hetty or
generous Theodosia: but when the time came for going away, he fastened
on both their hands, and felt an immense regard for them.

"He is very kind and honest," said Theo gravely as they watched him and
their father riding away.

"I am glad he has got papa to ride with him to Westerham," said little
Hetty. "I don't like his going to those Castlewood people. I am sure
that Madam Bernstein is a wicked old woman. I expected to see her ride
away on her crooked stick. The other old woman seemed fond of him. She
looked very melancholy when she went away, but Madam Bernstein whisked
her off with her crutch, and she was obliged to go."

_III.--Harry Warrington is Disinherited_

Our young Virginian found himself after a few days at Tunbridge Wells by
far the most important personage in the place. The story of his wealth
had been magnified, and his winnings at play, which were considerable,
were told and calculated at every tea-table. The old aunt Bernstein
enjoyed his triumphs, and bade him pursue his enjoyments. As for Lady
Maria, though Harry Warrington knew she was as old as his mother, he had
given her his word to marry her at Castlewood, and, as he said, "A
Virginian Esmond has but his word!"

Madam Bernstein offered her niece L5,000 to free Mr. Warrington of his
engagement but the offer was declined, and a few weeks later Lady Maria
returned to Castlewood, while Harry went to London. He knew that his
mother, who was mistress for life of the Virginian property, would
refuse her consent to his marriage, and the thought of it was put off to
a late period. Meanwhile it hung like a weight round the young man's
neck.

No wonder that his spirits rose more gaily as he came near London. He
took lodgings in Bond Street and lived upon the fat of the land. His
title of Fortunate Youth, bestowed upon him because of his luck at
cards, was prettily recognised. But after a few weeks of lavish success,
the luck turned and he lost heavily: the last blow was after a private
game at piquet wit