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In spite of himself, Beatrix's desperate question for "the black, blank years," drowned the familiar words of his cavatina and set themselves in their place, "Even black, blank years shall pass."
My Lord Esmond, you will sup with us to-night; you have given us of late too little of your company." The Prince's meals were commonly served in the chamber which had been Beatrix's bedroom, adjoining that in which he slept. And the dutiful practice of his entertainers was to wait until their Royal guest bade them take their places at table before they sat down to partake of the meal.
Well, from the very first moment he saw her on the stairs at Walcote, Esmond knew he loved Beatrix. There might be better women he wanted that one. He cared for none other. Was it because she was gloriously beautiful? Beautiful as she was, he had heard people say a score of times in their company that Beatrix's mother looked as young, and was the handsomer of the two.
Beatrix's three kinsfolk looked at one another at this intelligence: 'twas clear the same thought was passing through the minds of all. But who should begin to break the news?
This time his Grace the Duke of Hamilton, whom Esmond had seen about her before, was constant at Miss Beatrix's side: he was one of the most splendid gentlemen of Europe, accomplished by books, by travel, by long command of the best company, distinguished as a statesman, having been ambassador in King Williamn's time, and a noble speaker in the Scots' Parliament, where he had led the party that was against the Union, and though now five or six and forty years of age, a gentleman so high in stature, accomplished in wit, and favored in person, that he might pretend to the hand of any Princess in Europe.
"It was that brute of a Lorimer, and he deserves all he got, and more, too. I saw the order to the caterer, made out in Beatrix's handwriting, and there wasn't a pint of champagne on it. Lorimer sent in the order afterwards, just as he invited that serpent of a Lloyd Avalons. Beatrix couldn't help herself." "She could have countermanded the order." "She didn't know it till the guests were there.
Mistress Beatrix's woman, the fellow said, came down to the servants' hall crying, and with the mark of a blow still on her cheek: but Esmond peremptorily ordered him to fall back and be silent, and rode on with thoughts enough of his own to occupy him some sad ones, some inexpressibly dear and pleasant. His mistress, from whom he had been a year separated, was his dearest mistress again.
"Who is in the house besides you, Lockwood?" says the Colonel. "There be the laundry-maid, and the kitchen-maid, Madam Beatrix's maid, the man from London, and that be all; and he sleepeth in my lodge away from the maids," says old Lockwood. Esmond scribbled a line with a pencil on the note, giving it to the old man, and bidding him go on to his lady.
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