"Ah! Why did not I marry an honest man?" said the of lady, shaking her
head sadly. "Henry Esmond was noble and good, and perhaps might have
made me so. But no, no--we have all got the taint in us--all! You don't
mean to sacrifice this boy, Maria?"

"Madame ma tante, do you take me for a fool at my age?" asks Maria.

"Set him free! I'll give you five thousand pounds--in my--in my will,
Maria. I will, on my honour!"

"When you were young, and you liked Colonel Esmond, you threw him aside
for an earl, and the earl for a duke?"

"Yes."

"Eh! Bon sang ne peut mentir! I have no money, I have no friends.
My father was a spendthrift, my brother is a beggar. I have Mr.
Warrington's word, and I know, madam, he will keep it. And that's what I
tell your ladyship!" cries Lady Maria with a wave of her hand. "Suppose
my letters are published to all the world to-morrow? Apres? I know they
contain things I would as lieve not tell. Things not about me alone.
Comment! Do you suppose there are no stories but mine in the family?
It is not my letters that I am afraid of, so long as I have his, madam.
Yes, his and his word, and I trust them both."

"I will send to my merchant, and give you the money now, Maria," pleaded
the old lady.

"No, I shall have my pretty Harry, and ten times five thousand pounds!"
cries Maria.

"Not till his mother's death, madam, who is just your age!"

"We can afford to wait, aunt. At my age, as you say, I am not so eager
as young chits for a husband."

"But to wait my sister's death, at least, is a drawback?"

"Offer me ten thousand pounds, Madam Tusher, and then we will see!"
cries Maria.

"I have not so much money in the world, Maria," said the old lady.

"Then, madam, let me make what I can for myself!" says Maria.

"Ah, if he heard you?"

"Apres? I have his word. I know he will keep it. I can afford to wait,
madam," and she flung out of the room, just as the chaplain returned.
It was Madame Bernstein who wanted cordials now. She was immensely moved
and shocked by the news which had been thus suddenly brought to her.

CHAPTER XXXVI. Which seems to mean Mischief

Though she had clearly had the worst of the battle described in the last
chapter, the Baroness Bernstein, when she next met her niece showed
no rancour or anger. "Of course, my Lady Maria," she said, "you can't
suppose that I, as Harry Warrington's near relative, can be pleased at
the idea of his marrying a woman who is as ol