m sure
that nothing had happened of that with which, in my anger, I charged you.
And the very first day we go out, you must take me to the blacksmith, and
we must see if there is anything I can do to console the poor old man.
Poor man! to lose both his children! What should I do without mine!"

And this was, indeed, the very first walk which my lady took, leaning on
Esmond's arm, after her illness. But her visit brought no consolation to
the old father; and he showed no softness, or desire to speak. "The Lord
gave and took away," he said; and he knew what His servant's duty was. He
wanted for nothing--less now than ever before, as there were fewer mouths
to feed. He wished her ladyship and Master Esmond good morning--he had
grown tall in his illness, and was but very little marked; and with this,
and a surly bow, he went in from the smithy to the house, leaving my lady,
somewhat silenced and shamefaced, at the door. He had a handsome stone put
up for his two children, which may be seen in Castlewood churchyard to
this very day; and before a year was out his own name was upon the stone.
In the presence of Death, that sovereign ruler, a woman's coquetry is
scared; and her jealousy will hardly pass the boundaries of that grim
kingdom. 'Tis entirely of the earth that passion, and expires in the cold
blue air, beyond our sphere.

At length, when the danger was quite over, it was announced that my lord
and his daughter would return. Esmond well remembered the day. The lady,
his mistress, was in a flurry of fear: before my lord came, she went into
her room, and returned from it with reddened cheeks. Her fate was about to
be decided. Her beauty was gone--was her reign, too, over? A minute would
say. My lord came riding over the bridge--he could be seen from the great
window, clad in scarlet, and mounted on his grey hackney--his little
daughter ambled by him in a bright riding-dress of blue, on a shining
chestnut horse. My lady leaned against the great mantelpiece, looking on,
with one hand on her heart--she seemed only the more pale for those red
marks on either cheek. She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and withdrew
it, laughing hysterically--the cloth was quite red with the rouge when she
took it away. She ran to her room again, and came back with pale cheeks
and red eyes--her son in her hand--just as my lord entered, accompanied by
young Esmond, who had gone out to meet his protector, and to hold his
stirrup as he descende