dear friend!" cried the
widow, full of thanks and affection.

As they pursued their conversation, they had quitted the porch under
which they had first began to talk, and where they could hear the
laughter and toasts of the gentlemen over their wine, and were pacing a
walk on the rough lawn before the house. Young George Warrington, from
his place at the head of the table in the dining-room, could see the
pair as they passed to and fro, and had listened for some time past,
and replied in a very distracted manner to the remarks of the gentlemen
round about him, who were too much engaged with their own talk and
jokes, and drinking, to pay much attention to their young host's
behaviour. Mr. Braddock loved a song after dinner, and Mr. Danvers, his
aide-de-camp, who had a fine tenor voice, was delighting his General
with the latest ditty from Marybone Gardens, when George Warrington,
jumping up, ran towards the window, and then returned and pulled his
brother Harry by the sleeve, who sate with his back towards the window.

"What is it?" says Harry, who, for his part, was charmed, too, with the
song and chorus.

"Come," cried George, with a stamp of his foot, and the younger followed
obediently.

"What is it?" continued George, with a bitter oath. "Don't you see what
it is? They were billing and cooing this morning; they are billing and
cooing now before going to roost. Had we not better both go into the
garden, and pay our duty to our mamma and papa?" and he pointed to Mr.
Washington, who was taking the widow's hand very tenderly in his.

CHAPTER X. A Hot Afternoon

General Braddock and the other guests of Castlewood being duly consigned
to their respective quarters, the boys retired to their own room, and
there poured out to one another their opinions respecting the great
event of the day. They would not bear such a marriage--no. Was the
representative of the Marquises of Esmond to marry the younger son of
a colonial family, who had been bred up as a land-surveyor? Castlewood,
and the boys at nineteen years of age, handed over to the tender mercies
of a stepfather of three-and-twenty! Oh, it was monstrous! Harry was for
going straightway to his mother in her bedroom--where her black maidens
were divesting her ladyship of the simple jewels and fineries which she
had assumed in compliment to the feast--protesting against the odious
match, and announcing that they would go home, live upon their little
property t