n courted it, when they were
alone. The young lord was shooting up to be like his gallant father in
look, though with his mother's kind eyes: the lady of Castlewood herself
seemed grown, too, since Harry saw her--in her look more stately, in
her person fuller, in her face still as ever most tender and friendly, a
greater air of command and decision than had appeared in that guileless
sweet countenance which Harry remembered so gratefully. The tone of her
voice was so much deeper and sadder when she spoke and welcomed him,
that it quite startled Esmond, who looked up at her surprised as she
spoke, when she withdrew her eyes from him; nor did she ever look at him
afterwards when his own eyes were gazing upon her. A something hinting
at grief and secret, and filling his mind with alarm undefinable, seemed
to speak with that low thrilling voice of hers, and look out of those
clear sad eyes. Her greeting to Esmond was so cold that it almost pained
the lad, (who would have liked to fall on his knees, and kiss the skirt
of her robe, so fond and ardent was his respect and regard for her,)
and he faltered in answering the questions which she, hesitating on her
side, began to put to him. Was he happy at Cambridge? Did he study too
hard? She hoped not. He had grown very tall, and looked very well.

"He has got a moustache!" cries out Master Esmond.

"Why does he not wear a peruke like my Lord Mohun?" asked Miss Beatrix.
"My lord says that nobody wears their own hair."

"I believe you will have to occupy your old chamber," says my lady. "I
hope the housekeeper has got it ready."

"Why, mamma, you have been there ten times these three days yourself!"
exclaims Frank.

"And she cut some flowers which you planted in my garden--do you
remember, ever so many years ago? when I was quite a little girl," cries
out Miss Beatrix, on tiptoe. "And mamma put them in your window."

"I remember when you grew well after you were ill that you used to like
roses," said the lady, blushing like one of them. They all conducted
Harry Esmond to his chamber; the children running before, Harry walking
by his mistress hand-in-hand.

The old room had been ornamented and beautified not a little to receive
him. The flowers were in the window in a china vase; and there was a
fine new counterpane on the bed, which chatterbox Beatrix said mamma had
made too. A fire was crackling on the hearth, although it was June. My
lady thought the room wanted warming; e