Viscount Castlewood,
my father: here is the witnessed certificate of my father's marriage
to my mother, and of my birth and christening; I was christened of that
religion of which your sainted sire gave all through life so shining
example. These are my titles, dear Frank, and this what I do with them:
here go Baptism and Marriage, and here the Marquisate and the August
Sign-Manual, with which your predecessor was pleased to honor our race."
And as Esmond spoke he set the papers burning in the brazier. "You will
please, sir, to remember," he continued, "that our family hath ruined
itself by fidelity to yours: that my grandfather spent his estate, and
gave his blood and his son to die for your service; that my dear lord's
grandfather (for lord you are now, Frank, by right and title too) died
for the same cause; that my poor kinswoman, my father's second wife,
after giving away her honor to your wicked perjured race, sent all her
wealth to the King; and got in return, that precious title that lies in
ashes, and this inestimable yard of blue ribbon. I lay this at your feet
and stamp upon it: I draw this sword, and break it and deny you; and,
had you completed the wrong you designed us, by heaven I would have
driven it through your heart, and no more pardoned you than your father
pardoned Monmouth. Frank will do the same, won't you, cousin?"

Frank, who had been looking on with a stupid air at the papers, as they
flamed in the old brazier, took out his sword and broke it, holding his
head down:--"I go with my cousin," says he, giving Esmond a grasp of
the hand. "Marquis or not, by ---, I stand by him any day. I beg your
Majesty's pardon for swearing; that is--that is--I'm for the Elector of
Hanover. It's all your Majesty's own fault. The Queen's dead most likely
by this time. And you might have been King if you hadn't come dangling
after Trix."

"Thus to lose a crown," says the young Prince, starting up, and speaking
French in his eager way; "to lose the loveliest woman in the world; to
lose the loyalty of such hearts as yours, is not this, my lords, enough
of humiliation?--Marquis, if I go on my knees will you pardon me?--No,
I can't do that, but I can offer you reparation, that of honor, that
of gentlemen. Favor me by crossing the sword with mine: yours is
broke--see, yonder in the armoire are two;" and the Prince took them out
as eager as a boy, and held them towards Esmond:--"Ah! you will? Merci,
monsieur, merci!"

E