to have the state bedroom. Who was the Baroness? The Baroness Bernstein,
the young ladies' aunt. Harry wrote down his name on a paper from his own
pocket-book, and laid it on a table in the hall. "Henry Esmond
Warrington, of Castlewood, in Virginia, arrived in England yesterday--
staying at the Three Castles in the village." The lackeys rose up from
their cards to open the door to him, in order to get their "wails," and
Gumbo quitted the bench at the gate, where he had been talking with old
Lockwood, the porter, who took Harry's guinea, hardly knowing the meaning
of the gift. During the visit to the home of his fathers, Harry had only
seen little Polly's countenance that was the least unselfish or kindly:
he walked away, not caring to own how disappointed he was, and what a
damp had been struck upon him by the aspect of the place. They ought to
have known him. Had any of them ridden up to his house in Virginia,
whether the master were present or absent, the guests would have been
made welcome, and, in sight of his ancestors' hall, he had to go and ask
for a dish of bacon and eggs at a country alehouse!

After his dinner, he went to the bridge and sate on it, looking towards
the old house, behind which the sun was descending as the rooks came
cawing home to their nests in the elms. His young fancy pictured to
itself many of the ancestors of whom his mother and grandsire had told
him. He fancied knights and huntsmen crossing the ford;--cavaliers of
King Charles's days; my Lord Castlewood, his grandmother's first husband,
riding out with hawk and hound. The recollection of his dearest lost
brother came back to him as he indulged in these reveries, and smote him
with a pang of exceeding tenderness and longing, insomuch that the young
man hung his head and felt his sorrow renewed for the dear friend and
companion with whom, until of late, all his pleasures and griefs had been
shared. As he sate plunged in his own thoughts, which were mingled up
with the mechanical clinking of the blacksmith's forge hard by, the