and had recourse to tears.  Her beautiful eyes filled with them; I never could bear in her, nor in any woman, that expression of pain:—­“I am alone,” sobbed she; “you are three against me—­my brother, my mother, and you.  What have I done, that you should speak and look so unkindly at me?  Is it my fault that the Prince should, as you say, admire me?  Did I bring him here?  Did I do aught but what you bade me, in making him welcome?  Did you not tell me that our duty was to die for him?  Did you not teach me, mother, night and morning to pray for the King, before even ourselves?  What would you have of me, cousin, for you are the chief of the conspiracy against me; I know you are, sir, and that my mother and brother are acting but as you bid them; whither would you have me go?”

“I would but remove from the Prince,” says Esmond, gravely, “a dangerous temptation; heaven forbid I should say you would yield; I would only have him free of it.  Your honor needs no guardian, please God, but his imprudence doth.  He is so far removed from all women by his rank, that his pursuit of them cannot but be unlawful.  We would remove the dearest and fairest of our family from the chance of that insult, and that is why we would have you go, dear Beatrix.”

“Harry speaks like a book,” says Frank, with one of his oaths, “and, by —–­, every word he saith is true.  You can’t help being handsome, Trix; no more can the Prince help following you.  My counsel is that you go out of harm’s way; for, by the Lord, were the Prince to play any tricks with you, King as he is, or is to be, Harry Esmond and I would have justice of him.”

“Are not two such champions enough to guard me?” says Beatrix, something sorrowfully; “sure, with you two watching, no evil could happen to me.”

“In faith, I think not, Beatrix,” says Colonel Esmond; “nor if the Prince knew us would he try.”

“But does he know you?” interposed Lady Castlewood, very quiet:  “he comes of a country where the pursuit of kings is thought no dishonor to a woman.  Let us go, dearest Beatrix.  Shall we go to Walcote or to Castlewood?  We are best away from the city; and when the Prince is acknowledged, and our champions have restored him, and he hath his own house at St. James’s or Windsor, we can come back to ours here.  Do you not think so, Harry and Frank?”

Frank and Harry thought with her, you may be sure.

“We will go, then,” says Beatrix, turning a little pale; “Lady Masham is to give me warning to-night how her Majesty is, and to-morrow—­”

“I think we had best go to-day, my dear,” says my Lady Castlewood; “we might have the coach and sleep at Hounslow, and reach home to-morrow.  ’Tis twelve o’clock; bid the coach, cousin, be ready at one.”