“By —–­,” says my lord, rapping out another oath, “Clotilda is an angel; how dare you say a word against Clotilda?”

Colonel Esmond could not refrain from a smile, to see how easy Frank’s attack was drawn off by that feint:—­“I fancy Clotilda is not the subject in hand,” says Mr. Esmond, rather scornfully; “her ladyship is at Paris, a hundred leagues off, preparing baby-linen.  It is about my Lord Castlewood’s sister, and not his wife, the question is.”

“He is not my Lord Castlewood,” says Beatrix, “and he knows he is not; he is Colonel Francis Esmond’s son, and no more, and he wears a false title; and he lives on another man’s land, and he knows it.”  Here was another desperate sally of the poor beleaguered garrison, and an alerte in another quarter.  “Again, I beg your pardon,” says Esmond.  “If there are no proofs of my claim, I have no claim.  If my father acknowledged no heir, yours was his lawful successor, and my Lord Castlewood hath as good a right to his rank and small estate as any man in England.  But that again is not the question, as you know very well; let us bring our talk back to it, as you will have me meddle in it.  And I will give you frankly my opinion, that a house where a Prince lies all day, who respects no woman, is no house for a young unmarried lady; that you were better in the country than here; that he is here on a great end, from which no folly should divert him; and that having nobly done your part of this morning, Beatrix, you should retire off the scene awhile, and leave it to the other actors of the play.”

As the Colonel spoke with a perfect calmness and politeness, such as ’tis to be hoped he hath always shown to women,* his mistress stood by him on one side of the table, and Frank Castlewood on the other, hemming in poor Beatrix, that was behind it, and, as it were, surrounding her with our approaches.

* My dear father saith quite truly, that his manner towards our sex was uniformly courteous.  From my infancy upwards, he treated me with an extreme gentleness, as though I was a little lady.  I can scarce remember (though I tried him often) ever hearing a rough word from him, nor was he less grave and kind in his manner to the humblest negresses on his estate.  He was familiar with no one except my mother, and it was delightful to witness up to the very last days the confidence between them.  He was obeyed eagerly by all under him; and my mother and all her household lived in a constant emulation to please him, and quite a terror lest in any way they should offend him.  He was the humblest man with all this; the least exacting, the more easily contented; and Mr. Benson, our minister at Castlewood, who attended him at the last, ever said—­“I know not what Colonel Esmond’s doctrine was, but his life and death were those of a devout Christian.”—­R.  E. W.

Having twice sallied out and been beaten back, she now, as I expected, tried the ultima ratio of women,