But who should begin to break the news?  Monsieur Baptiste, that is Frank Castlewood, turned very red, and looked towards Esmond; the Colonel bit his lips, and fairly beat a retreat into the window:  it was Lady Castlewood that opened upon Beatrix with the news which we knew would do anything but please her.

“We are glad,” says she, taking her daughter’s hand, and speaking in a gentle voice, “that the guest is away.”

Beatrix drew back in an instant, looking round her at us three, and as if divining a danger.  “Why glad?” says she, her breast beginning to heave; “are you so soon tired of him?”

“We think one of us is devilishly too fond of him,” cries out Frank Castlewood.

“And which is it—­you, my lord, or is it mamma, who is jealous because he drinks my health? or is it the head of the family” (here she turned with an imperious look towards Colonel Esmond), “who has taken of late to preach the King sermons?”

“We do not say you are too free with his Majesty.”

“I thank you, madam,” says Beatrix, with a toss of the head and a curtsey.

But her mother continued, with very great calmness and dignity—­“At least we have not said so, though we might, were it possible for a mother to say such words to her own daughter, your father’s daughter.”

“Eh? mon pere,” breaks out Beatrix, “was no better than other persons’ fathers.”  And again she looked towards the Colonel.

We all felt a shock as she uttered those two or three French words; her manner was exactly imitated from that of our foreign guest.

“You had not learned to speak French a month ago, Beatrix,” says her mother, sadly, “nor to speak ill of your father.”

Beatrix, no doubt, saw that slip she had made in her flurry, for she blushed crimson:  “I have learnt to honor the King,” says she, drawing up, “and ’twere as well that others suspected neither his Majesty nor me.”

“If you respected your mother a little more,” Frank said, “Trix, you would do yourself no hurt.”

“I am no child,” says she, turning round on him; “we have lived very well these five years without the benefit of your advice or example, and I intend to take neither now.  Why does not the head of the house speak?” she went on; “he rules everything here.  When his chaplain has done singing the psalms, will his lordship deliver the sermon?  I am tired of the psalms.”  The Prince had used almost the very same words in regard to Colonel Esmond that the imprudent girl repeated in her wrath.

“You show yourself a very apt scholar, madam,” says the Colonel; and, turning to his mistress, “Did your guest use these words in your ladyship’s hearing, or was it to Beatrix in private that he was pleased to impart his opinion regarding my tiresome sermon?”

“Have you seen him alone?” cries my lord, starting up with an oath:  “by God, have you seen him alone?”

“Were he here, you wouldn’t dare so to insult me; no, you would not dare!” cries Frank’s sister.  “Keep your oaths, my lord, for your wife; we are not used here to such language.  Till you came, there used to be kindness between me and mamma, and I cared for her when you never did, when you were away for years with your horses and your mistress, and your Popish wife.”