to do. His mother's law-agents are
my lawyers, and they write that the property is quite a principality,
and grows richer every year."

"If it were a kingdom I know whom Mr. Warrington would make queen of
it," said the obsequious chaplain.

"Who can account for taste, parson?" asks his lordship, with a sneer.
"All men are so. The first woman I was in love with myself was forty;
and as jealous as if she had been fifteen. It runs in the family.
Colonel Esmond (he in scarlet and the breastplate yonder) married my
grandmother, who was almost old enough to be his. If this lad chooses to
take out an elderly princess to Virginia, we must not balk him."

"'Twere a consummation devoutly to be wished!" cries the chaplain. "Had
I not best go to Tunbridge Wells myself, my lord, and be on the spot,
and ready to exercise my sacred function in behalf of the young couple?"

"You shall have a pair of new nags, parson, if you do," said my lord.
And with this we leave them peaceable over a pipe of tobacco after
breakfast.

Harry was in such a haste to join the carriages that he almost forgot
to take off his hat, and acknowledge the cheers of the Castlewood
villagers: they all liked the lad, whose frank cordial ways and honest
face got him a welcome in most places. Legends were still extant in
Castlewood, of his grandparents, and how his grandfather, Colonel
Esmond, might have been Lord Castlewood, but would not. Old Lockwood at
the gate often told of the Colonel's gallantry in Queen Anne's wars.
His feats were exaggerated, the behaviour of the present family was
contrasted with that of the old lord and lady: who might not have been
very popular in their time, but were better folks than those now in
possession. Lord Castlewood was a hard landlord: perhaps more disliked
because he was known to be poor and embarrassed than because he was
severe. As for Mr. Will, nobody was fond of him. The young gentleman had
had many brawls and quarrels about the village, had received and given
broken heads, had bills in the neighbouring towns which he could not or
would not pay; had been arraigned before the magistrates for tampering
with village girls, and waylaid and cudgelled by injured husbands,
fathers, sweethearts. A hundred years ago his character and actions
might have been described at length by the painter of manners; but the
Comic Muse, nowadays, does not lift up Molly Seagrim's curtain; she only
indicates the presence of some one behind i