yboots, you've
been at Nancy Sievewright. D--- the young hypocrite, who'd have thought
it in him? I say, Tusher, he's been after--"

"Enough, my lord," said my lady, "don't insult me with this talk."

"Upon my word," said poor Harry, ready to cry with shame and
mortification, "the honor of that young person is perfectly unstained
for me."

"Oh, of course, of course," says my lord, more and more laughing and
tipsy. "Upon his HONOR, Doctor--Nancy Sieve-- . . ."

"Take Mistress Beatrix to bed," my lady cried at this moment to Mrs.
Tucker her woman, who came in with her ladyship's tea. "Put her into my
room--no, into yours," she added quickly. "Go, my child: go, I say: not
a word!" And Beatrix, quite surprised at so sudden a tone of authority
from one who was seldom accustomed to raise her voice, went out of the
room with a scared countenance, and waited even to burst out a-crying
until she got to the door with Mrs. Tucker.

For once her mother took little heed of her sobbing, and continued
to speak eagerly--"My lord," she said, "this young man--your
dependant--told me just now in French--he was ashamed to speak in his
own language--that he had been at the ale-house all day, where he has
had that little wretch who is now ill of the small-pox on his knee. And
he comes home reeking from that place--yes, reeking from it--and takes
my boy into his lap without shame, and sits down by me, yes, by ME.
He may have killed Frank for what I know--killed our child. Why was he
brought in to disgrace our house? Why is he here? Let him go--let him
go, I say, to-night, and pollute the place no more."

She had never once uttered a syllable of unkindness to Harry Esmond; and
her cruel words smote the poor boy, so that he stood for some moments
bewildered with grief and rage at the injustice of such a stab from such
a hand. He turned quite white from red, which he had been.

"I cannot help my birth, madam," he said, "nor my other misfortune. And
as for your boy, if--if my coming nigh to him pollutes him now, it was
not so always. Good-night, my lord. Heaven bless you and yours for your
goodness to me. I have tired her ladyship's kindness out, and I will
go;" and, sinking down on his knee, Harry Esmond took the rough hand of
his benefactor and kissed it.

"He wants to go to the ale-house--let him go," cried my lady.

"I'm d--d if he shall," said my lord. "I didn't think you could be so
d--d ungrateful, Rachel."

Her reply was to bu