at Esmond, as she stooped down and kissed
Frank. "Do not tell those silly stories, child," she said: "do not drink
much wine, sir; Harry never loved to drink wine." And she went away, too,
in her black robes, looking back on the young man with her fair, fond
face.

"Egad! it's true," says Frank, sipping his wine with the air of a lord.
"What think you of this Lisbon--real Collares? 'Tis better than your heady
port: we got it out of one of the Spanish ships that came from Vigo last
year: my mother bought it at Southampton, as the ship was lying there--the
_Rose_, Captain Hawkins."

"Why, I came home in that ship," says Harry.

"And it brought home a good fellow and good wine," says my lord. "I say,
Harry, I wish thou hadst not that cursed bar sinister."

"And why not the bar sinister?" asks the other.

"Suppose I go to the army and am killed--every gentleman goes to the
army--who is to take care of the women? 'Trix will never stop at home;
mother's in love with you,--yes, I think mother's in love with you. She was
always praising you, and always talking about you; and when she went to
Southampton, to see the ship, I found her out. But you see it is
impossible: we are of the oldest blood in England; we came in with the
Conqueror; we were only baronets,--but what then? we were forced into that.
James the First forced our great-grandfather. We are above titles; we old
English gentry don't want 'em; the queen can make a duke any day. Look at
Blandford's father, Duke Churchill, and Duchess Jennings, what were they,
Harry? Damn it, sir, what are they, to turn up their noses at us? Where
were they, when our ancestor rode with King Henry at Agincourt, and filled
up the French king's cup after Poictiers? 'Fore George, sir, why shouldn't
Blandford marry Beatrix? By G----! he _shall_ marry Beatrix, or tell me the
reason why. We'll marry with the best blood of England, and none but the
best blood of England. You are an Esmond, and you can't help your birth,
my boy. Let's have another bottle. What! no more? I've drunk three parts
of this myself. I had many a night with my father; you stood to him like a
man, Harry. You backed your blood; you can't help your misfortune, you
know,--no man can help that."

The elder said he would go in to his mistress's tea-table. The young lad,
with a heightened colour and voice, began singing a snatch of a song, and
marched out of the room. Esmond heard him presently calling his dogs about
him,