CHAPTER VI.
THE ISSUE OF THE PLOTS.--THE DEATH OF THOMAS, THIRD VISCOUNT OFCASTLEWOOD; AND THE IMPRISONMENT OF HIS VISCOUNTESS.
At first my lady was for dying like Mary, Queen of Scots (to whom shefancied she bore a resemblance in beauty), and, stroking her scraggyneck, said, "They will find Isabel of Castlewood is equal to her fate."Her gentlewoman, Victoire, persuaded her that her prudent course was,as she could not fly, to receive the troops as though she suspectednothing, and that her chamber was the best place wherein to await them.So her black Japan casket, which Harry was to carry to the coach, wastaken back to her ladyship's chamber, whither the maid and mistressretired. Victoire came out presently, bidding the page to say herladyship was ill, confined to her bed with the rheumatism.
By this time the soldiers had reached Castlewood. Harry Esmond sawthem from the window of the tapestry parlor; a couple of sentinels wereposted at the gate--a half-dozen more walked towards the stable; andsome others, preceded by their commander, and a man in black, a lawyerprobably, were conducted by one of the servants to the stair leading upto the part of the house which my lord and lady inhabited.
So the Captain, a handsome kind man, and the lawyer, came through theante-room to the tapestry parlor, and where now was nobody but youngHarry Esmond, the page.
"Tell your mistress, little man," says the Captain, kindly, "that wemust speak to her."
"My mistress is ill a-bed," said the page.
"What complaint has she?" asked the Captain.
The boy said, "The rheumatism!"
"Rheumatism! that's a sad complaint," continues the good-naturedCaptain; "and the coach is in the yard to fetch the Doctor, I suppose?"
"I don't know," says the boy.
"And how long has her ladyship been ill?"
"I don't know," says the boy.
"When did my lord go away?"
"Yesterday night."
"With Father Holt?"
"With Mr. Holt."
"And which way did they travel?" asks the lawyer.
"They travelled without me," says the page.
"We must see Lady Castlewood."
"I have orders that nobody goes in to her ladyship--she is sick," saysthe page; but at this moment Victoire came out. "Hush!" says she; and,as if not knowing that any one was near, "What's this noise?" says she."Is this gentleman the Doctor?"
"Stuff! we must see Lady Castlewood," says the lawyer, pushing by.
The curtains of her ladyship's room were down, and the chamber dark,and she was in bed with a nightcap on her head, and propped up by herpillows, looking none the less ghastly because of the red which wasstill on her cheeks, and which she could not afford to forego.
"Is that the Doctor?" she said.
"There is no use with this deception, madam," Captain Westbury said (forso he was named). "My duty is to arrest the person of Thomas, ViscountCastlewood, a nonjuring peer--of Robert Tusher, Vicar of Castlewood--andHenry Holt, known under various other names and designations, a Jesuitpriest, who officiated as chaplain here in the late king's time, and isnow at the head of the conspiracy which was about to break out in thiscountry against the authority of their Majesties King William and QueenMary--and my orders are to search the house for such papers or traces ofthe conspiracy as may be found here. Your ladyship will please give meyour keys, and it will be as well for yourself that you should help us,in every way, in our search."
"You see, sir, that I have the rheumatism, and cannot move," saidthe lady, looking uncommonly ghastly as she sat up in her bed, where,however, she had had her cheeks painted, and a new cap put on, so thatshe might at least look her best when the officers came.
"I shall take leave to place a sentinel in the chamber, so that yourladyship, in case you should wish to rise, may have an arm to lean on,"Captain Westbury said. "Your woman will show me where I am to look;" andMadame Victoire, chattering in her half French and half English jargon,opened while the Captain examined one drawer after another; but, asHarry Esmond thought, rather carelessly, with a smile on his face, as ifhe was only conducting the examination for form's sake.
Before one of the cupboards Victoire flung herself down, stretching outher arms, and, with a piercing shriek, cried, "Non, jamais, monsieurl'officier! Jamais! I will rather die than let you see this wardrobe."
But Captain Westbury would open it, still with a smile on his face,which, when the box was opened, turned into a fair burst of laughter.It contained--not papers regarding the conspiracy--but my lady's wigs,washes, and rouge-pots, and Victoire said men were monsters, as theCaptain went on with his perquisition. He tapped the back to see whetheror no it was hollow, and as he thrust his hands into the cupboard, mylady from her bed called out, with a voice that did not sound like thatof a very sick woman, "Is it your commission to insult ladies as well asto arrest gentlemen, Captain?"
"These articles are only dangerous when worn by your ladyship," theCaptain said, with a low bow, and a mock grin of politeness. "I havefound nothing which concerns the Government as yet--only the weaponswith which beauty is authorized to kill," says he, pointing to a wigwith his sword-tip. "We must now proceed to search the rest of thehouse."
"You are not going to leave that wretch in the room with me," cried mylady, pointing to the soldier.
"What can I do, madam? Somebody you must have to smooth your pillow andbring your medicine--permit me--"
"Sir!" screamed out my lady.
"Madam, if you are too ill to leave the bed," the Captain then said,rather sternly, "I must have in four of my men to lift you off in thesheet. I must examine this bed, in a word; papers may be hidden in a bedas elsewhere; we know that very well and * * *."
Here it was her ladyship's turn to shriek, for the Captain, with hisfist shaking the pillows and bolsters, at last came to "burn" as theysay in the play of forfeits, and wrenching away one of the pillows,said, "Look! did not I tell you so? Here is a pillow stuffed withpaper."
"Some villain has betrayed us," cried out my lady, sitting up in thebed, showing herself full dressed under her night-rail.
"And now your ladyship can move, I am sure; permit me to give you myhand to rise. You will have to travel for some distance, as far asHexton Castle to-night. Will you have your coach? Your woman shallattend you if you like--and the japan-box?"
"Sir! you don't strike a MAN when he is down," said my lady, with somedignity: "can you not spare a woman?"
"Your ladyship must please to rise, and let me search the bed," said theCaptain; "there is no more time to lose in bandying talk."
And, without more ado, the gaunt old woman got up. Harry Esmondrecollected to the end of his life that figure, with the brocade dressand the white night-rail, and the gold-clocked red stockings, and whitered-heeled shoes, sitting up in the bed, and stepping down from it. Thetrunks were ready packed for departure in her ante-room, and the horsesready harnessed in the stable: about all which the Captain seemed toknow, by information got from some quarter or other; and whence Esmondcould make a pretty shrewd guess in after-times, when Dr. Tushercomplained that King William's government had basely treated him forservices done in that cause.
And here he may relate, though he was then too young to know all thatwas happening, what the papers contained, of which Captain Westbury hadmade a seizure, and which papers had been transferred from the japan-boxto the bed when the officers arrived.
There was a list of gentlemen of the county in Father Holt's handwriting--Mr. Freeman's (King James's) friends--a similar paper beingfound among those of Sir John Fenwick and Mr. Coplestone, who suffereddeath for this conspiracy.
There was a patent conferring the title of Marquis of Esmond on myLord Castlewood and the heirs-male of his body; his appointment asLord-Lieutenant of the County, and Major-General.*
* To have this rank of Marquis restored in the family had always been my Lady Viscountess's ambition; and her old maiden aunt, Barbara Topham, the goldsmith's daughter, dying about this time, and leaving all
her property to Lady Castlewood, I have heard that her ladyship sent almost the whole of the money to King James, a proceeding which so irritated my Lord Castlewood that he actually went to the parish church, and was only appeased by the Marquis's title which his exiled Majesty sent to him in return for the 15,000L. his faithful subject lent him.
There were various letters from the nobility and gentry, some ardentand some doubtful, in the King's service; and (very luckily for him) twoletters concerning Colonel Francis Esmond: one from Father Holt, whichsaid, "I have been to see this Colonel at his house at Walcote, near toWells, where he resides since the King's departure, and pressed him veryeagerly in Mr. Freeman's cause, showing him the great advantage he wouldhave by trading with that merchant, offering him large premiums there asagreed between us. But he says no: he considers Mr. Freeman the head ofthe firm, will never trade against him or embark with any other tradingcompany, but considers his duty was done when Mr. Freeman left England.This Colonel seems to care more for his wife and his beagles than foraffairs. He asked me much about young H. E., 'that bastard,' as hecalled him; doubting my lord's intentions respecting him. I reassuredhim on this head, stating what I knew of the lad, and our intentionsrespecting him, but with regard to Freeman he was inflexible."
And another letter was from Colonel Esmond to his kinsman, to say thatone Captain Holton had been with him offering him large bribes to join,YOU KNOW WHO, and saying that the head of the house of Castlewood wasdeeply engaged in that quarter. But for his part he had broke hissword when the K. left the country, and would never again fight in thatquarrel. The P. of O. was a man, at least, of a noble courage, and hisduty, and, as he thought, every Englishman's, was to keep the countryquiet, and the French out of it: and, in fine, that he would havenothing to do with the scheme.
Of the existence of these two letters and the contents of the pillow,Colonel Frank Esmond, who became Viscount Castlewood, told HenryEsmond afterwards, when the letters were shown to his lordship, whocongratulated himself, as he had good reason, that he had not joinedin the scheme which proved so fatal to many concerned in it. But,naturally, the lad knew little about these circumstances when theyhappened under his eyes: only being aware that his patron and hismistress were in some trouble, which had caused the flight of the oneand the apprehension of the other by the officers of King William.
The seizure of the papers effected, the gentlemen did not pursue theirfurther search through Castlewood House very rigorously. They examinedMr. Holt's room, being led thither by his pupil, who showed, as theFather had bidden him, the place where the key of his chamber lay,opened the door for the gentlemen, and conducted them into the room.
When the gentlemen came to the half-burned papers in the brazier, theyexamined them eagerly enough, and their young guide was a little amusedat their perplexity.
"What are these?" says one.
"They're written in a foreign language," says the lawyer. "What are youlaughing at, little whelp?" adds he, turning round as he saw the boysmile.
"Mr. Holt said they were sermons," Harry said, "and bade me to burnthem;" which indeed was true of those papers.
"Sermons indeed--it's treason, I would lay a wager," cries the lawyer.
"Egad! it's Greek to me," says Captain Westbury. "Can you read it,little boy?"
"Yes, sir, a little," Harry said.
"Then read, and read in English, sir, on your peril," said the lawyer.And Harry began to translate:--
"Hath not one of your own writers said, 'The children of Adam are nowlaboring as much as he himself ever did, about the tree of the knowledgeof good and evil, shaking the boughs thereof, and seeking the fruit,being for the most part unmindful of the tree of life.' Oh blindgeneration! 'tis this tree of knowledge to which the serpent has ledyou"--and here the boy was obliged to stop, the rest of the page beingcharred by the fire: and asked of the lawyer--"Shall I go on, sir?"
The lawyer said--"This boy is deeper than he seems: who knows that he isnot laughing at us?"
"Let's have in Dick the Scholar," cried Captain Westbury, laughing: andhe called to a trooper out of the window--"Ho, Dick, come in here andconstrue."
A thick-set soldier, with a square good-humored face, came in at thesummons, saluting his officer.
"Tell us what is this, Dick," says the lawyer.
"My name is Steele, sir," says the soldier. "I may be Dick for myfriends, but I don't name gentlemen of your cloth amongst them."
"Well then, Steele."
"Mr. Steele, sir, if you please. When you address a gentleman of hisMajesty's Horse Guards, be pleased not to be so familiar."
"I didn't know, sir," said the lawyer.
"How should you? I take it you are not accustomed to meet withgentlemen," says the trooper.
"Hold thy prate, and read that bit of paper," says Westbury.
"'Tis Latin," says Dick, glancing at it, and again saluting his officer,"and from a sermon of Mr. Cudworth's," and he translated the wordspretty much as Henry Esmond had rendered them.
"What a young scholar you are," says the Captain to the boy.
"Depend on't, he knows more than he tells," says the lawyer. "I think wewill pack him off in the coach with old Jezebel."
"For construing a bit of Latin?" said the Captain, very good-naturedly.
"I would as lief go there as anywhere," Harry Esmond said, simply, "forthere is nobody to care for me."
There must have been something touching in the child's voice, or inthis description of his solitude--for the Captain looked at him verygood-naturedly, and the trooper, called Steele, put his hand kindly onthe lad's head, and said some words in the Latin tongue.
"What does he say?" says the lawyer.
"Faith, ask Dick himself," cried Captain Westbury.
"I said I was not ignorant of misfortune myself, and had learned tosuccor the miserable, and that's not YOUR trade, Mr. Sheepskin," saidthe trooper.
"You had better leave Dick the Scholar alone, Mr. Corbet," the Captainsaid. And Harry Esmond, always touched by a kind face and kind word,felt very grateful to this good-natured champion.
The horses were by this time harnessed to the coach; and the Countessand Victoire came down and were put into the vehicle. This woman, whoquarrelled with Harry Esmond all day, was melted at parting with him,and called him "dear angel," and "poor infant," and a hundred othernames.
The Viscountess, giving him her lean hand to kiss, bade him always befaithful to the house of Esmond. "If evil should happen to my lord,"says she, "his SUCCESSOR, I trust, will be found, and give youprotection. Situated as I am, they will not dare wreak their vengeanceon me NOW." And she kissed a medal she wore with great fervor, andHenry Esmond knew not in the least what her meaning was; but hath sincelearned that, old as she was, she was for ever expecting, by the goodoffices of saints and relics, to have an heir to the title of Esmond.
Harry Esmond was too young to have been introduced into the secretsof politics in which his patrons were implicated; for they put but fewquestions to the boy (who was little of stature, and looked much youngerthan his age), and such questions as they put he answered cautiouslyenough, and professing even more ignorance than he had, for which hisexaminers willingly enough gave him credit. He did not say a word aboutthe window or the cupboard over the fireplace; and these secrets quiteescaped the eyes of the searchers.
So then my lady was consigned to her coach, and sent off to Hexton, withher woman and the man of law to bear her company, a couple of troopersriding on either side of the coach. And Harry was left behind at theHall, belonging as it were to nobody, and quite alone in the world.The captain and a guard of men remained in possession there; and thesoldiers, who were very good-natured and kind, ate my lord's mutton anddrank his wine, and made themselves comfortable, as they well might doin such pleasant quarters.
The captains had their dinner served in my lord's tapestry parlor, andpoor little Harry thought his duty was to wait upon Captain Westbury'schair, as his custom had been t
o serve his lord when he sat there.
After the departure of the Countess, Dick the Scholar took Harry Esmondunder his special protection, and would examine him in his humanitiesand talk to him both of French and Latin, in which tongues the ladfound, and his new friend was willing enough to acknowledge, that he waseven more proficient than Scholar Dick. Hearing that he had learned themfrom a Jesuit, in the praise of whom and whose goodness Harry was nevertired of speaking, Dick, rather to the boy's surprise, who began to havean early shrewdness, like many children bred up alone, showed a greatdeal of theological science, and knowledge of the points at issuebetween the two churches; so that he and Harry would have hours ofcontroversy together, in which the boy was certainly worsted by thearguments of this singular trooper. "I am no common soldier," Dick wouldsay, and indeed it was easy to see by his learning, breeding, andmany accomplishments, that he was not. "I am of one of the most ancientfamilies in the empire; I have had my education at a famous school,and a famous university; I learned my first rudiments of Latin near toSmithfield, in London, where the martyrs were roasted."
"You hanged as many of ours," interposed Harry; "and, for the matter ofpersecution, Father Holt told me that a young gentleman of Edinburgh,eighteen years of age, student at the college there, was hanged forheresy only last year, though he recanted, and solemnly asked pardon forhis errors."
"Faith! there has been too much persecution on both sides: but 'twas youtaught us."
"Nay, 'twas the Pagans began it," cried the lad, and began to instancea number of saints of the Church, from the proto-martyr downwards--"thisone's fire went out under him: that one's oil cooled in the caldron: ata third holy head the executioner chopped three times and it would notcome off. Show us martyrs in YOUR church for whom such miracles havebeen done."
"Nay," says the trooper gravely, "the miracles of the first threecenturies belong to my Church as well as yours, Master Papist," and thenadded, with something of a smile upon his countenance, and a queer lookat Harry--"And yet, my little catechiser, I have sometimes thought aboutthose miracles, that there was not much good in them, since the victim'shead always finished by coming off at the third or fourth chop, and thecaldron, if it did not boil one day, boiled the next. Howbeit, in ourtimes, the Church has lost that questionable advantage of respites.There never was a shower to put out Ridley's fire, nor an angel to turnthe edge of Campion's axe. The rack tore the limbs of Southwellthe Jesuit and Sympson the Protestant alike. For faith, everywheremultitudes die willingly enough. I have read in Monsieur Rycaut's'History of the Turks,' of thousands of Mahomet's followers rushingupon death in battle as upon certain Paradise; and in the great Mogul'sdominions people fling themselves by hundreds under the cars of theidols annually, and the widows burn themselves on their husbands'bodies, as 'tis well known. 'Tis not the dying for a faith that's sohard, Master Harry--every man of every nation has done that--'tis theliving up to it that is difficult, as I know to my cost," he added witha sigh. "And ah!" he added, "my poor lad, I am not strong enough toconvince thee by my life--though to die for my religion would give methe greatest of joys--but I had a dear friend in Magdalen College inOxford; I wish Joe Addison were here to convince thee, as he quicklycould--for I think he's a match for the whole College of Jesuits; andwhat's more, in his life too. In that very sermon of Dr. Cudworth'swhich your priest was quoting from, and which suffered martydom in thebrazier,"--Dick added with a smile, "I had a thought of wearing theblack coat (but was ashamed of my life, you see, and took to this sorryred one); I have often thought of Joe Addison--Dr. Cudworth says,'A good conscience is the best looking-glass of heaven'--and there'sserenity in my friend's face which always reflects it--I wish you couldsee him, Harry."
"Did he do you a great deal of good?" asked the lad, simply.
"He might have done," said the other--"at least he taught me to see andapprove better things. 'Tis my own fault, deteriora sequi."
"You seem very good," the boy said.
"I'm not what I seem, alas!" answered the trooper--and indeed, as itturned out, poor Dick told the truth--for that very night, at supperin the hall, where the gentlemen of the troop took their repasts,and passed most part of their days dicing and smoking of tobacco, andsinging and cursing, over the Castlewood ale--Harry Esmond found Dickthe Scholar in a woful state of drunkenness. He hiccupped out a sermonand his laughing companions bade him sing a hymn, on which Dick,swearing he would run the scoundrel through the body who insulted hisreligion, made for his sword, which was hanging on the wall, and felldown flat on the floor under it, saying to Harry, who ran forward tohelp him, "Ah, little Papist, I wish Joseph Addison was here!"
Though the troopers of the King's Life-Guards were all gentlemen, yetthe rest of the gentlemen seemed ignorant and vulgar boors to HarryEsmond, with the exception of this good-natured Corporal Steele theScholar, and Captain Westbury and Lieutenant Trant, who were alwayskind to the lad. They remained for some weeks or months encamped inCastlewood, and Harry learned from them, from time to time, how the ladyat Hexton Castle was treated, and the particulars of her confinementthere. 'Tis known that King William was disposed to deal very lenientlywith the gentry who remained faithful to the old King's cause; and noprince usurping a crown, as his enemies said he did, (righteouslytaking it, as I think now,) ever caused less blood to be shed. As forwomen-conspirators, he kept spies on the least dangerous, and locked upthe others. Lady Castlewood had the best rooms in Hexton Castle, and thegaoler's garden to walk in; and though she repeatedly desired to be ledout to execution, like Mary Queen of Scots, there never was any thoughtof taking her painted old head off, or any desire to do aught but keepher person in security.
And it appeared she found that some were friends in her misfortune, whomshe had, in her prosperity, considered as her worst enemies. ColonelFrancis Esmond, my lord's cousin and her ladyship's, who had married theDean of Winchester's daughter, and, since King James's departure out ofEngland, had lived not very far away from Hexton town, hearing of hiskinswoman's strait, and being friends with Colonel Brice, commanding forKing William in Hexton, and with the Church dignitaries there, cameto visit her ladyship in prison, offering to his uncle's daughter anyfriendly services which lay in his power. And he brought his lady andlittle daughter to see the prisoner, to the latter of whom, a childof great beauty and many winning ways, the old Viscountess took nota little liking, although between her ladyship and the child's motherthere was little more love than formerly. There are some injuries whichwomen never forgive one another; and Madam Francis Esmond, in marryingher cousin, had done one of those irretrievable wrongs to LadyCastlewood. But as she was now humiliated, and in misfortune, MadamFrancis could allow a truce to her enmity, and could be kind for awhile, at least, to her husband's discarded mistress. So the littleBeatrix, her daughter, was permitted often to go and visit theimprisoned Viscountess, who, in so far as the child and its fatherwere concerned, got to abate in her anger towards that branch of theCastlewood family. And the letters of Colonel Esmond coming to light,as has been said, and his conduct being known to the King's council, theColonel was put in a better position with the existing government thanhe had ever before been; any suspicions regarding his loyalty wereentirely done away; and so he was enabled to be of more service to hiskinswoman than he could otherwise have been.
And now there befell an event by which this lady recovered her liberty,and the house of Castlewood got a new owner, and fatherless little HarryEsmond a new and most kind protector and friend. Whatever that secretwas which Harry was to hear from my lord, the boy never heard it; forthat night when Father Holt arrived, and carried my lord away with him,was the last on which Harry ever saw his patron. What happened to mylord may be briefly told here. Having found the horses at the placewhere they were lying, my lord and Father Holt rode together toChatteris, where they had temporary refuge with one of the Father'spenitents in that city; but the pursuit being hot for them, and thereward for the apprehension of one or the other considerable, it wasdeemed advisable that
they should separate; and the priest betookhimself to other places of retreat known to him, whilst my lord passedover from Bristol into Ireland, in which kingdom King James had a courtand an army. My lord was but a small addition to this; bringing, indeed,only his sword and the few pieces in his pocket; but the King receivedhim with some kindness and distinction in spite of his poor plight,confirmed him in his new title of Marquis, gave him a regiment, andpromised him further promotion. But titles or promotion were not tobenefit him now. My lord was wounded at the fatal battle of the Boyne,flying from which field (long after his master had set him an example)he lay for a while concealed in the marshy country near to the town ofTrim, and more from catarrh and fever caught in the bogs than from thesteel of the enemy in the battle, sank and died. May the earth lie lightupon Thomas of Castlewood! He who writes this must speak in charity,though this lord did him and his two grievous wrongs: for one of thesehe would have made amends, perhaps, had life been spared him; but theother lay beyond his power to repair, though 'tis to be hoped that agreater Power than a priest has absolved him of it. He got the comfortof this absolution, too, such as it was: a priest of Trim writing aletter to my lady to inform her of this calamity.
But in those days letters were slow of travelling, and our priest's tooktwo months or more on its journey from Ireland to England: where, whenit did arrive, it did not find my lady at her own house; she was at theKing's house of Hexton Castle when the letter came to Castlewood, but itwas opened for all that by the officer in command there.
Harry Esmond well remembered the receipt of this letter, which Lockwoodbrought in as Captain Westbury and Lieutenant Trant were on the greenplaying at bowls, young Esmond looking on at the sport, or reading hisbook in the arbor.
"Here's news for Frank Esmond," says Captain Westbury; "Harry, did youever see Colonel Esmond?" And Captain Westbury looked very hard at theboy as he spoke.
Harry said he had seen him but once when he was at Hexton, at the ballthere.
"And did he say anything?"
"He said what I don't care to repeat," Harry answered. For he was nowtwelve years of age: he knew what his birth was, and the disgrace ofit; and he felt no love towards the man who had most likely stained hismother's honor and his own.
"Did you love my Lord Castlewood?"
"I wait until I know my mother, sir, to say," the boy answered, his eyesfilling with tears.
"Something has happened to Lord Castlewood," Captain Westbury said in avery grave tone--"something which must happen to us all. He is dead of awound received at the Boyne, fighting for King James."
"I am glad my lord fought for the right cause," the boy said.
"It was better to meet death on the field like a man, than face it onTower-hill, as some of them may," continued Mr. Westbury. "I hope he hasmade some testament, or provided for thee somehow. This letter says herecommends unicum filium suum dilectissimum to his lady. I hope he hasleft you more than that."
Harry did not know, he said. He was in the hands of Heaven and Fate; butmore lonely now, as it seemed to him, than he had been all the rest ofhis life; and that night, as he lay in his little room which he stilloccupied, the boy thought with many a pang of shame and grief of hisstrange and solitary condition: how he had a father and no father; anameless mother that had been brought to ruin, perhaps, by that veryfather whom Harry could only acknowledge in secret and with a blush,and whom he could neither love nor revere. And he sickened to think howFather Holt, a stranger, and two or three soldiers, his acquaintancesof the last six weeks, were the only friends he had in the great wideworld, where he was now quite alone. The soul of the boy was full oflove, and he longed as he lay in the darkness there for some one uponwhom he could bestow it. He remembers, and must to his dying day, thethoughts and tears of that long night, the hours tolling through it.Who was he, and what? Why here rather than elsewhere? I have a mind, hethought, to go to that priest at Trim, and find out what my father saidto him on his death-bed confession. Is there any child in the wholeworld so unprotected as I am? Shall I get up and quit this place, andrun to Ireland? With these thoughts and tears the lad passed that nightaway until he wept himself to sleep.
The next day, the gentlemen of the guard, who had heard what hadbefallen him, were more than usually kind to the child, especially hisfriend Scholar Dick, who told him about his own father's death, whichhad happened when Dick was a child at Dublin, not quite five years ofage. "That was the first sensation of grief," Dick said, "I ever knew.I remember I went into the room where his body lay, and my mother satweeping beside it. I had my battledore in my hand, and fell a-beatingthe coffin, and calling Papa; on which my mother caught me in her arms,and told me in a flood of tears Papa could not hear me, and would playwith me no more, for they were going to put him under ground, whence hecould never come to us again. And this," said Dick kindly, "has mademe pity all children ever since; and caused me to love thee, my poorfatherless, motherless lad. And, if ever thou wantest a friend, thoushalt have one in Richard Steele."
Harry Esmond thanked him, and was grateful. But what could CorporalSteele do for him? take him to ride a spare horse, and be servant to thetroop? Though there might be a bar in Harry Esmond's shield, it was anoble one. The counsel of the two friends was, that little Harryshould stay where he was, and abide his fortune: so Esmond stayed on atCastlewood, awaiting with no small anxiety the fate, whatever it was,which was over him.