Book 1, Chapter 12 of the History of Henry Esmond Esquire by William MacPheece Thackeray. This is a LibriVox recording. Our LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Gem of Life. My Lord Melon, comes among us for no good. Book 1, Chapter 12. I had ridden along with this old Princess's cavalcade, to gentlemen, her son, my Lord Firebrace, and his friend, my Lord Melon, who both were greeted with a great deal of cordiality by the hospitable Lord of Castlewood. My Lord Firebrace was but a feeble-minded and weak-limbed young nobleman, small in stature, and limited in understanding to judge from the dark young Esmondad with him. But the other was a person of a handsome presence, with the bell-air, and a bright-daring warlike aspect which, according to the chronicle of those days, had already achieved for him the conquest of several beauties and toasts. He had fought and conquered in France, as well as in Flanders. He had served a couple of campaigns with the Prince of Baton on the Danube and witnessed the rescue of Vienna from the Turk. He spoke of his military exploits pleasantly, and with the manly freedom of a soldier, so as to delight all his hearers at Castlewood, who were little accustomed to meet a companion so agreeable. On the first day this noble company came, my Lord would not hear of their departure before dinner, and carried away the gentlemen to amuse them, whilst his wife was left to do the honors of her house to the old mortioness and her daughter within. They looked at the stables where my Lord Moen praised the horses, though there was but a poor show there. They walked over the old house and gardens, and fought the siege of all of his time over again. They played a game of rackets in the old court, where my Lord Castlewood beat my Lord Moen, who said he loved ball of all things, and would quickly come back to Castlewood for his revenge. After dinner they played bowls and drank punch in the green alley, and when they over hearted there were sworn friends, my Lord Castlewood kissing the other Lord before he mounted on horseback, and pronouncing him the best companion he had met for many a long day. All night long, over his tobacco pipe, Castlewood did not cease to talk to Henry Asmond in praise of his new friend, and in fact did not leave off speaking of him until his Lord Chip was so tipsy that he could not speak plainly any more. At breakfast next day it was a small talk renewed, and when my lady said there was something free in the Lord Moen's looks and manner of speech which caused her to mistrust him. Her Lord burst out with one of his laughs and oaths, said that he never liked man, woman, or beast, but what she was sure to be jealous of it, that Moen was the prettiest fellow in England, that he hoped to see more of him whilst in the country, and that he would let Moen know what my lady prude said of him. Indeed, Lady Castlewood said, I liked his conversation well enough, did more musing than that of most people I know. I thought it, I own, too free, not from what he said as rather from what he implied. Pasha, your ladyship does not know the world, said her husband, and you have always been as squeamish as when you were a miss of fifteen. You found no fault when I was a miss of fifteen. But God, madam, you are grown too old for a pinafore now, and I hold that his will me to judge what company my wife shall see, said my Lord, slapping the table. Indeed, Francis, I never thought otherwise, and said my lady, rising and dropping him a curtsy, in which stately action, if there was obedience, there was defiance, too, and in which a bystander, deeply interested in the happiness of that pair as Henry Esmond was, might see how hopelessly separated they were. What a great gulf of difference and discord had run between them. By God, Moen is the best fellow in England, and I'll invite him here, just to plague that woman. Did you ever see such a frigid insolence as it is, Harry? That's the way she treats me, he broke out, storming. And his face growing red as he clenched his fists and went on. I'm nobody in my own house. I'm to be the humble servant of that Parsons' daughter. By Jove, I'd rather she should fling the dish at my head than sneer at me as she does. She puts me to shame before the children with her damned heirs, and I'll swear, tells Frank and Beatty that Papa's a reprobate and that they ought to despise me. Indeed and indeed, sir. I never heard as a word but of respect regarding you, Harry Esmond, interdivosed. No, girls, that I wish she would speak, but she never does. She scorns me and holds her tone. She keeps off from me as if I was a pestilence. By George, she was fond enough of her pestilence once, and when I came according, you would see Miss Blush, Blush Red, by George for joy. Why, what do you think she said to me, Harry? She said herself when I joked with her about her damn smiling red cheeks. Tis as they do at St. James's. I put up my red flag when my king comes. I was the king, you see, she meant. But now, sir, look at her. I believe she would be glad if I was dead, and dead I'd been to her these five years.  Indeed, my lord, that was hard to forgive. I think my mistress forgave it, Harry Esmond said, and remember how eagerly she watched your lordship's return, and how sadly she turned away when she saw your cold looks. Damn, cries out, my lord, would you have had me wait and catch the small box? Where the deuce had been the good of that? I'll bear danger with any man, but not useless danger. No, no, thank you for nothing. And you nod your head, and I know very well, Paus and Harry, what you mean. There was the other affair to make her angry, but is a woman never to forgive a husband who goes a-tripping. Do you take me for a saint? Indeed, sir, I do not, says Harry, with a smile. Since that time, my wife's as gold as the statue at Charring Cross. I tell thee she has no forgiveness in her, Henry. Her coldness blights my whole life, and sends me to the punch-bowl, or driving about the country. My children are not mine, but hers, when we are together, tis only when she is out of sight with her abominable cold glances, that run through me, that they'll come to me, and that I dare to give them so much as a kiss, and that's why I take them and love them in other people's houses, Harry. I'm killed by the very virtue of that proud woman. Virtue. Give me the virtue that can forgive, give me the virtue that thinks not of preserving itself, but of making other folks happy. Damn, what matters a scar or do, if tis God in helping a friend in ill fortune, and my Lord again slapped the table, and took a great draught from the tankard. Harry Esmond admired as he listened to him, and thought how the poor preacher of this self-sacrifice had fled from the small box, which the lady had borne so cheerfully, from which had been the cause of so much disunion in the lives of all in this house. How well men preach, thought the young man, and each is the example in his own sermon. How each has a story and a dispute, and a true one too, and both are right or wrong, as you will. Harry's heart was pained within him, to watch the struggles and pangs that were the breast of this kind, a manly friend and protector. Indeed, sir, he said, I wish to God that my mistress could hear you speak, as I have urged you. She would know much that would make her life the happier. Could she hear it? But my Lord flung away with one of his oaths and a jeer. He said that Paus and Harry was a good fellow. But that as were women, all women were alike, all jades and heartless. So a man dashes a fine vase down, and despises it for being broken. It may be worthless, true, but who had the keeping of it, and who shattered it? Harry, who would have given his life to make his benefactress and her husband happy, bethought him. Now that he saw what my Lord's date of mind was, and that he really had a great deal of that love left in his heart, and ready for his wife's acceptance, if she would take it, whether he could not be a means of reconciliation between these two persons whom he revered the most in the world.  But he found the subject a very difficult one to handle when he ventured to remonstrate, which he did in the very gravestown. For long confidence and reiterated proofs of devotion and loyalty had given him a sort of authority in the house, which he resumed as soon as ever he returned to it, and with a speech that should have some effect as, indeed, it was uttered with the speaker's own heart. He ventured most gently to him, to his adored mistress, that she was doing her husband harm by her ill opinion of him, and that the happiness of all the family depended upon setting her right. She, who was ordinarily calm and most gentle, and full of smiles and soft attentions, flushed up when young Esmond so spoke to her, and rose from her chair, looking at him with a heartiness and indignation that he had never before known her to display.   She asked hastily, hissing out her words and stamping her foot. Indeed, no, Esmond said, looking down. Are you come to me as his ambassador? You, she continued, I would soon see peace between you than anything else in the world, Ariane said, and would go of any embassy that had that end. So you are my lord's go-between, she went on, not regarding this speech. You are sent to bid me back into slavery again, and inform me that my lord's favor is graciously restored to his anmate. He is weary of covenant garden, is he, that he comes home and would have the fatted calf killed? There's good authority for it, surely, said Esmond. For his son, yes, but my lord is not my son. It was he who cast me away from him. It was he who broke our happiness down, and he bids me to repair it. It was he who showed himself to me at last as he was, not as I had thought him.  And when he is tired of them, returns hither, and expects that I shall kneel and welcome him, and he sends you as his chamberlain.  Monsieur, I make you my compliment of the new place. It would be a proud embassy and a happy embassy, too. Could I bring you and my lord together, Esmond replied? I presume you have fulfilled your mission now, sir. It was a pretty one for you to undertake. I don't know whether it is your Cambridge philosophy. What time? That has altered your ways of thinking. Lady Castlewood continued, still in a sarcastic tone. Perhaps you, too, have learned to love drink and to hiccup over your wine or punch. Which is your worship's favorite liquor? Perhaps you, too, put up at the Rose on your way to London, and have your acquaintances in Covent Garden. My service is to you, sir, to principal and ambassador, to master and and lackey. Great Evans, madam, cried Harry. What have I done that thus for a second time you insult me? Do you wish me to blush for what I used to be proud of, that I lived on your bounty? Next doing you a service which my life would pay for. You know that to receive one from you is my highest pleasure. What wrong have I done you that you would wound me so, cruel woman? What wrong, she said, looking at Esmond with wild eyes? Well, none. None that you know of, Harry, or could help. Why did you bring back the small box, she added after a pause from Castlewood Village? You could not help it, could you? Which of us knows whether fate leads us? But we were all happy, Henry, till then. And Harry went away from this colloquy, thinking still that the estrangement between his patron and his beloved mistress was remediable, and that each had at heart a strong attachment to the other. The intimacy between the lords Moen and Castlewood appeared to increase as long as the former remained in the country, and my lord of Castlewood especially seemed never to be happy out of his new comrade's sight. They sported together, they drank, they played bowls and tennis. My lord Castlewood would go for three days to Sark and bring back my lord Moen to Castlewood, where indeed his lordship made himself very welcome to all persons, having a joke or a new game at Roms for the children. All the talk of the town for my lord and music and gallantry and plenty of the bow language for my lady, and for Harry Esmond, who was never tired of hearing his stories of his campaigns and his life at Vienna, Venice, Paris, and the famous cities of Europe, which he had visited both in peace and war, and he sang at my lady's harpsichord and laid cards or bat-gammon, or his new game of billiards with my lord, of whom he invariably got better, always having a consummate could humor, and bearing himself with a certain manly grace that might exhibit somewhat of a camp and a satia perhaps, but that had its charm, and stamped him a gentleman, and his manner to Lady Castlewood was so devoted and respectful that she soon recovered from the first feelings of dislike which he had conceived against him. Nay before long began to be interested in his spiritual welfare and hopeful of his conversion, lending him books of biotry which he promised beautifully to study, with her, my lord, doctor of reform, of settling into quiet life. Quitting the quartet down and buying some land in the neighborhood, though it must be owned that when the two lords were together over their burgundy after dinner, their talk was very different, and there was very little question of conversion on my lord no one's part. When they got to their second bottle, Harry Usmund used commonly to leave these two noble doppers, who, though they talked freely enough, heaven knows, in his presence. Good lord, what a set of stories of Alsatia and Springgarden, of the taverns and gaming houses, of the ladies of the court, and madames, of the theater.  It was a point of honor with the fine gentleman of those days to lose or win magnificently at their horse matches, or games of cards and dice, and you could never tell from the demeanor of these two lords afterwards which had been successful and which the loser at their games, and when my lady hinted to my lord that he played more than she liked, he dismissed her with a fish, and swore that nothing was more equal than play betwixt gentlemen, if they did but keep it up long enough. And these kept it up long enough, you may be sure. A man of fashion of that time often passed a quarter of his day at cards, and another quarter at drink. I have known many a pretty fellow, who was a wit, too, ready of repartee, and possessed of a thousand graces, who would be puzzled if he had to write more than his name. There is scarce any thoughtful man or woman, I suppose, but can look back upon his course of past life and remember some point, trifling as it may have seemed at the time of occurrence, which has nevertheless turned and altered his whole career. It is with almost all of us, as in Emma Salon's magnificent image regarding King William, a grand disable that perverts or perhaps overthrows us, and so it was, but a light word flung in the air, a mere freak of perverse child's temper that brought down a whole heap of crushing woes upon that family whereof Harry Asmond formed apart. Coming home to his dear castle would in the third year of his academical course, wherein he had now obtained some distinction, his light and bone on the death of the Duke of Gloucester, Princess Iron of Denmark's son, having gained him a medal and introduced him to the society of the university wits. Asmond found his little friend and pupil Beatrix grown to be taller than her mother, a slim and lovely young girl, with cheeks maddening with health and roses, with eyes like stars shining out of azure, with waving bronze air clustered about the fairest young foyer had ever seen, and amine, and shape, hearty, and beautiful, such as that of the famous antique statue of the Huntress Diana, at one time hearty, rapid, imperious, with eyes and arrows that dart and kill. Harry watched and wondered at this young creature, and likened her in his mind to Artemis, with the ringing bow and shafts flashing death upon the children of Nairobi. At another time, she was coy and melting, as Luna shining tenderly upon indimion. This fair creature, this lustrous Phoebe, was only young as yet, nor had nearly reached her full splendor. But crescent and brilliant our young gentleman of the university, his head full of poetical fancies, his heart perhaps throbbing with desires undefined, admired this rising young divinity and gazed at her, though only as at some bright, particular star far above his earth, with endless delight and wonder. She had been a coquette from the earliest times almost, trying her freaks and jealousies, her wayward frolics and winning caresses upon all that came within her reach. She set her women quarreling in the nursery and practiced her eyes on the groom as she rode behind him on the billion. She was the darling and dormant of father and mother. She intrigued with each secretly and bestowed her fondness and withdrew it, plied them with tears, smiles, kisses, cajolments. When the mother was angry, as happened often, flew to the father and sheltering behind him pursued her victim. When both were displeased, transferred her caresses to the domestics, or watched until she could win back her parents' good graces, either by surprising them into laughter and good humor, or appeasing them by submission and artful humility. She received a litanumcocio, like the fickle goddess Horace describes, and of whose malicious joy a great poet of her own has written so nobly, who, famous and heroic as he was, was not strong enough to resist the torture of women. It was but three years before that the child, then but ten years old, had nearly managed to make a quarrel between Ari Esmond and his comrade, good-natured, phlegmatic Thomas Stuscher, who never of his own seeking quarreled with anybody, by quoting to the latter some silly joke, which Ari had made regarding him. It was the nearest eyedless jest, though it near drove two old friends to blows, and I think such a battle would have pleased her. And from that day, Tom kept at a distance from her, and she respected him, and goked him sedulously whenever they met. But Ari was much more easily appeased, because he was thunder of the child, and when she made mischief, used cutting speeches, or caused her friend's pain, she excused herself for a fault, not by admitting and uplawing it, but by pleading not guilty, and asserting innocence so constantly, and with such seeming artlessness, that it was impossible to question her plea. In her childhood, they were but mischiefs, then, which she did. But her power became more fatal as she grew older, as a kitten first lays with a ball and then bounces on a bird and kills it. It is not to be imagined that Ari Esmond had all this experience at this early stage of his life, whereof he is now writing the history. Many things he noted were but known to him in later days. Almost everything Beatrix did or undid seemed good, or at least pardonable to him then, and years afterwards. It happened then that Ari Esmond came home to Yasselwood for his last vacation with good hopes of a fellowship at his college, and a contented resolve to advance his fortune that way. It was in the first year of the present century, Mr. Esmond, as far as he knew the period of his birth. Being then twenty-two years old, he found his quantum pupil shot up into this beauty of which we have spoken, and promising yet more. Her brother, my lord son, a handsome high-spirited brave lad, generous in Frank, and kind to everybody, save perhaps his sister, with whom Frank was at war, and not from his, but her fault, adoring his mother, whose joy he was in taking her side in the unhappy matrimonial differences which were now permanent, while, of course, Mistress Beatrix ranged with her father. When heads of families fall out, it must naturally be that their dependents wear the one or the other party's color, and even in the parliaments in the servants' halls or the stables, Harry, who had an early observant turn, could see which were my lords adherents and which my ladies, and conjecture pretty shrewdly how their unlucky quarrel was debated. Our lackeys sit in judgment on us. My lord's intrigues may be ever so stealthily conducted, but his valet knows them, and my lady's woman carries her mistress's private history to the servant's scandal market and exchanges it against the secrets of other abagals. Book 1, Chapter 13 My lord Moan, of those exploits and fames, some of the gentlemen of the universe that he had brought down but ugly reports, was once more a guest at Castlewood, and seemingly more intimately allied with my lord even than before. Once in the spring, those two gentlemen had ridden to Cambridge from Newmarket, whether they had gone for the walls racing, and had honoured Harry Esmond with a visit at his rooms, after which Dr. Montague was the master of the college, who had treated Harry somewhat heartily, seeing his familiarity with these great folks, and that my lord Castlewood laughed and walked with his hand on Harry's shoulder, relented to Mr. Esmond, and condescended to be very civil to him. And some days after his arrival, Harry Laughing told the story to Lady Esmond, remarking how strange it was that men famous for learning and renowned over Europe should nevertheless so bow down to a title and cringe to a nobleman ever so poor. At this, Mr. Speedtricks hung up her head and said it became those of low origin to respect their betters, that the Parsons made themselves a great deal too proud, she thought, and that she liked the way that Lady Salk's best were the chaplain, that we loved putting, as all Parsons do, always went away before the custard, and when I am a Parsons and Mr. Esmond, will you give me no custard, Beatrix?  My father was a Parson, as you call in, said my lady, but mine is a fear of Ireland's and Mistress Beatrix tossing her head, let people know their places. I suppose you will let me go down on my knees and ask a blessing of Mr. Thomas Tasha that has just been made a curate and whose mother was a waiting maid, and she tossed out of the room, being in one of her flighty humors then. When she was gone my lady looked so sad and grave that Harry asked the cause of her disquietude. She said it was not merely what he said of Newmarket, but what she had remarked, with great anxiety and terror, that my lord, ever since his acquaintance with the Lord Moen especially, had recurred to his fondness for play, which he had renounced since his marriage. But men promise more than they are able to perform in marriage, said my lady, with a sigh. I fear he has lost lord sums, and our property, always small, is dwindling away under this reckless dissipation. I heard of him in London with very wild company. Since his return, letters and lawyers are constantly coming and going. He seems to me to have a constant anxiety, though he hides it under boisterousness and laughter. I look through, through the door last night, and before, said my lady, and saw them at guards after midnight. No estate will bear that extravagance, much less ours, which will be so diminished that my son will have nothing at all, and my poor Beatrix, no portion. I wish I could help you, madam, said Ari Esmond, sighing and wishing that unavailingly, and for the thousandth time in his life, who can? Only God, said Lady Esmond, only God, in whose hands we are, and so it is, and for his rule over his family, and for his conduct to wife and children, subjects ever loom, his power is monarchical. Anyone who watches the world must think with trembling sometimes of the account which many a man will have to render. For in our society there's no law to control the king of the fireside.  He is free to punish, to make happy or unhappy, to ruin or to torture.  When the grand son always drowns his slave at midnight, he may make slaves and hypocrites of his children, or of friends and freemen, or drive them into revolt and enmity against the natural law of love. I have heard politicians and coffeehouse wise acres talking over the newspaper and railing at the tyranny of the French king and the emperor, and wondered how these, who are monarchs, do in their way, govern their own dominions at home, where each man rules absolute, when the annals of each little reign are shown to the supreme master, under whom we hold sovereignty. Histories will be laid bare of household tyrants as cruel as Amorath, and as savage as Nero, and as reckless and disillute as Charles. If Ariasman's patron ad was in the latter way, from a disposition rather self-indulgent and cruel, and he might have been brought back the much better feelings, had time been given to him to bring his repentance to a lasting reform. As my lord and his friend Lord Moen were such close companions, Mistress Beatrix chose to be jealous of the latter, and the two gentlemen often entertained each other by laughing in their rude, boisterous way. At the child's freaks of anger and show of dislike, when thou art old enough, thou shalt marry Lord Moen. Beatrix's father would say, on which the girl would pout and say I would rather marry Tom Dutcher. And because the Lord Moen always showed an extreme gallantry to my Lady Gazzalwood, whom he professed to admire devotedly, one day an answer to this old joke of her father's, Beatrix said, I think my lord would rather marry Mama than marry me, and is waiting till you die to ask her. The words were said lightly and pertly by the girl one night before supper, as the family party was assembled near the Great Fire. The two lords, who were at God's, both gave a start. My Lady turned as red as scarlet, and made Mistress Beatrix go to her own chamber, whereupon the girl putting on, as her want was, the most innocent air said, I am sure I meant no wrong. I am sure Mama docks a great deal more to Ari Esmond than she does to Papa. And she cried when Ari went away, and she never does when Papa goes away. And last night she talked to Lord Moen for ever so long, and sent us out of the room, and cried when we came back, and Damn! cried out my Lord Gazzalwood, out of all patience, go out of the room, you little viper, and he started up and flung down his cards. Asked Lord Moen, what I said to him, Francis, her ladyship said, rising up with a scared face, but yet with a great in touching dignity and candor in her looking voice. Come away with me, Beatrix. Beatrix sprung up too. She was in tears now. Dear as Mama, what have I done? she asked. Sure, I meant no harm. And she clung to her mother, and the bell went out, sobbing together. I will tell you what your wife said to me, Frank, my Lord Moen cried. Far as an Ari may hear it. And as I hope for heaven, every word I say is true. Last night, with tears in her eyes, your wife implored me to play no more with you at Dysart cards, and you know best whether what she asked was not for your good. Of course it was, Moen, said my Lord in a dry, hard voice.  My Lord Moen was separated from his wife, and had had many affairs of honor, of which women as usual had been the cause. I am no saint, though your wife is. And I can answer for my actions as other people must for their words, said my Lord Moen. By God, my Lord, you shall, cried the other, starting up. We have another little account to settle first, my Lord, says Lord Moen. We're upon Ari Esmond, filled with alarm for the consequences to which this disastrous dispute might lead, broke out into the most vehement expostulations with his patron and his adversary. Gracious heavens, he said, my Lord, are you going to draw a sword upon your friend in your own house? Can you doubt the honor of a lady who is as pure as heaven, and would die a thousand times rather than do you wrong? Are the idle words of a jealous child to set friends and variants? As not my mistress, as much as she dared do, be sought your lordship, as the truth must be told, to break your intimacy with my Lord Moen, and to give up the habit which may bring ruin on your family. But for my Lord Moen's illness, had he not left you? Faith, Frank, a man with a gouty toke, can't run after other men's wives, broke out, my Lord Moen, who indeed was in that way. And with a laugh and a look at his worth limbs of frank and comical, that the other dashing his fist across his far head was caught by that infectious good humor, and said with his oath, it, Harry, I believe thee. And so the squirrel was over, and the two gentlemen, at swords drawn, but just now, dropped their points and shook her hands. Be arty, Pacifici, go bring my lady back, said Harry's patron. Esmond went away, only do glad to be the bearer of such good news. He found her at the door. She had been listening there, but went back as he came. She took both her sands. Hers were marble gold. She seemed as if she would fall on his shoulder. Thank you, and God bless you, my dear brother Harry, she said. She kissed his hand. Esmond felt her tears upon it, and leading her into the room, and up to my Lord, the Lord Gasselwood, with an outbreak of feeling and affection, such as he had not exhibited for many a long day. Took his wife to his heart, and bent over, and kissed her, and asked her pardon. It is time for me to go to Roost. I will outmigrew the beds, said my Lord Mohan, and limped off comically on Harry Esmond's arm. By George, that woman is a pearl, he said, and is only a pig that wouldn't value her. Have you seen the vulgar, drapesing orange girl whom Esmond? But here, Mr. Esmond interrupted him, saying that these were not affairs for him to know. My Lord's gentleman came in to wait upon his master, who was no sooner in his nightcap and dressing gown, than he had another visitor whom his host insisted on sending to him. And this was no other than the Lady Gasselwood herself, with the toast and gruel, which has been baited at making Gary with her own hands into her guest. Lord Gasselwood stood looking after his wife as she went on this errand, and as he looked, Harry Esmond could not but gaze on him, and remarked in his patron's face an expression of love and grief and care, which very much moved and touched the young man. Lord Gasselwood's hands fell down at his sides, and his head on his breast, and presently, he said, you heard what Mohan said, Barson, that my Lady was a saint, that there are two accounts to settle. I have been going wrong these five years, Harry Esmond, ever since you brought that damn small box into the house.  I left Beatrix with her relations, and went to London, and I fell among thieves, Harry, and I got back to confounded gods and dice, which I hadn't touched since my marriage. No, not since I was in the Duke's God, with those wild Mohawks, and I have been playing worse and worse and going deeper and deeper into it, and I owe Mohan two thousand pounds now, and when it's paid, I am little better than a beggar.  The best thing I can do is to die, and release what portion of the estate is redeemable for the boy. Mohan was as much master at Castlewood as the owner of the hall itself, and his equipages filled the stables, where indeed there was room and plenty for many more horses than Harry Esmond's impoverished patron could afford to keep. He had arrived on horseback with his people, but when his gout broke out, my Lord Mohan sent to London for a light jay as he had, drawn by perhaps more horses, and running his swift wherever roads were good, as a laplander sledge. When this carriage came, his lordship was eager to drive the Lady Castlewood abroad in it, and did so many times, and at a rapid pace, greatly, to his companion's enjoyment, who loved the swift motion and the healthy breezes over the downs which lie hard upon Castlewood, and stretched hence towards the sea. As this amusement was very pleasant to her, and her Lord far from showing any mistrust of her intimacy with Lord Mohan, encouraged her to be his companion, as if willing by his present extreme confidence to make up for any past mistrust which his jealousy had shown. The Lady Castlewood enjoyed herself really in this harmless diversion, which it must be owned. Her guest was very eager to give her, and it seemed that she grew the more free with Lord Mohan and pleased with his company, because of some sacrifice which his gallantry was pleased to make in her favor. Seeing the two gentlemen constantly at guard still of evenings, Ari Esmond one day deplored to his mistrust that this fatal infatuation of her Lord should continue, and now they seemed reconciled together, begged his Lady to into her husband that he should play no more, but Lady Castlewood smelling archly and gaily said she would speak to him presently, and that, for a few nights more at least, he might be led to have his amusement. Indeed, madam, said Ari, you know not what it calls you, and it is easy for any observer who knows the game to see that Lord Mohan is by far the stronger of the two. I know he is, says my Lady, still with exceedingly good humor. He is not only the best player, but the kindest player in the world. Madam, madam, Esmond cried, transported and provoked, deaths of honor must be paid some time or other, and my master will be ruined if he goes on.  Francis will not be ruined if he goes on. He will be rescued if he goes on. Ari bend of having spoken and thought unkindly of the Lord Mohan when he was here in the past year. He is full of much kindness and good, and is my belief that we shall bring him do better things.  What do you think he is doing with Francis? He is letting poor Frank win his money back again. He hath won already in the last four nights, and my Lord Mohan says that he will not be the means of injuring poor Frank and my dear children. And in God's name, what do you have done him for the sacrifice? Asked Esmond, aghast, who knew enough of men and of this one in particular to be aware that such a finished rake gave nothing for nothing. How, in Evan's name, are you to pay him? Pay him, with a mother's blessing and a wife's prayers, cries my Lady, clasping her hands together. Harry Esmond did not know whether to laugh, to be angry, or to love his dear mistress more than ever for the obstinate innocence he with which he chose to regard the conduct of a man of the world whose designs he knew better how to interpret. He told the Lady, godedly, but so as to make his meaning quite clear to her what he knew in respect of the former life and conduct of this nobleman of other women against whom he had plotted and whom he had overcome of the conversation which he, Harry himself, had add with Lord Mowen, wherein the Lord made a boast of his libertinism and frequently avowed that he held all women to be fair game as his lordship styled this pretty sport and that they were all without exception to be one. And the return Harry had for his entreaties and remonstrations was a fit of anger on Lady Castlewood's part who would not listen to his accusations. She said and redorted that he himself must be very wicked and perverted to suppose evil designs when she was sure none were meant and this is the good meddler's get of interfering. Harry thought to himself with much bitterness and his perplexity and annoyances were only the greater because he could not speak to my Lord Castlewood himself. Upon a subject of his nature or venture to advise or warn him regarding a matter so very sacred of his own honor of which my Lord was naturally the best guardian but though Lady Castlewood would listen to no advice from a young dependent and appeared indignantly to refuse it when offered Harry had the satisfaction to find that she adopted the council when she professed to reject for the next day she pleaded a headache when my Lord Mowen would have had a drive out and the next day the headache continued and next day in a laughing gay way she proposed that the children should take her place in his Lordship's car for they would be charmed with the ride of all things and she must not have all the pleasure for herself. My Lord gave them a drive with a very good grace though I dare say with rage and disappointment inwardly not that his heart was very seriously engaged in his designs upon the simple lady but the life of such man is often one of intrigue and they can no more go through the day without a woman to pursue than a fox hunter without his sport after breakfast under an affected carelessness of demeanor and though there was no outward demonstration of doubt upon his patrons far since the quarrel between the two lords Harry's yet saw that Lord Castlewood was watching his guest very narrowly and God's light of distrust and smothered rage as Harry thought which foreboded no good on the point of honor as men knew how touchy his patron was and watched him almost as a physician watch his patient and it seemed to him that this one was slow to take the disease though he could not throw off the poison when once it had mingled with his blood. We read in Shakespeare whom the writer for his part considers to be far beyond Mr. Congreve, Mr. Dryad nor any of the widths of the present period that when jealousy is once declared nor Papi nor Mandragora nor all the drowsy syrups of the east will ever soothe it or medicine it away. In fine the symptoms seemed to be so alarming to this young physician who indeed young as he was. I'd built the kind pulses of all those dear kinsmen that Harry thought it would be his duty to warn my Lord Moen and let him know that his designs were suspected and watched. So one day when in rather a pettish humor his lordship had sent to Lady Castlewood who had promised to drive with him and now refused to come. Harry said, my Lord if you will kindly give me a place by your side I will thank you. I have much to say to you and I would like to speak to you alone. You honor me by giving me your confidence Mr. Henry Esmond, says the other, with a very grand bow. My Lord was always a fine gentleman and young as he was there was that in Esmond's manner which showed that he was a gentleman too and that none might take a liberty with him. So the pair went out and mounted the little carriage which was in waiting for them in the gourd with its two little green-colored anivarian horses covered with splendid furniture and chomping at the bit. My Lord says Henry Esmond after they were got into the country and pointing to my Lord Moen's foot which was swallowed in flannel and put up rather ostentatiously on a cushion. My Lord I studied medicine at Cambridge. Indeed Bath and Ari says he, and are you going to take out a diploma and cure your fellow students of the of the gout, says Ari, interrupting him and looking him hard in the face. I know a good deal about the gout. I hope you may never have it. Tis an infernal disease, says my Lord and its twinges are diabolical. Ah, and he made a dreadful writhe face as if he just felt a twinge. Your lordship would be much better if you took off all that flannel. It only served to inflame the dough, Ari continued, looking his man full in the face. Oh, it only served to inflame the dough, does it, says the other, with an innocent air. If you took off that flannel and flung that absurd slipper away and wore a boot, continues Ari. You recommend me boots, Mr. Esmond, asks my Lord. Yes, boots and spurs. I saw your Lordship three days ago. Run down the gallery fast enough, Ari goes on. I am sure that taking gruel at night is not so pleasant as claret to your Lordship. And besides, it keeps your Lordship's head cool for play, whilst my patrons is hot and flustered with drink. It's death, sir. You dare not say that I don't play fair, cries my Lord, whipping his horses, which went away at a gallop. You are cool when my Lord is drunk, Ari continued. Your Lordship gets the better of my patron. I have watched you, as I looked up from my books. You young August, says Lord Mowen, who liked Ari Esmond, and for whose company and wit, and a certain daring manner, Harry had a great liking too. You young August, you may look with all your hundred eyes and see we play fair. I played away in the state of a night, and I played my shirt off my back, and I played away my periwake and gone home in a nightcap. But no man can say I ever took an advantage of him beyond the advantage of the game. I played a dice-cocking scoundrel in Alsatia for his ears and won them, and I have one of them in my lodging in Bow Street in a bottle of spirits. Ari Mowen will play any man for anything. Always would. You are playing awful stakes, my Lord, in my patron's house, Ari said, and more games than are on the cards. What do you mean, sir? cries my Lord, turning round with a flush on his face. I mean, answers Ari in a sarcastic tone, that your gout is well, if ever you had it, sir, cried my Lord, getting hot, and to tell the truth. I believe your lordship has no more gout than I have. At any rate, change of air will do you good, my Lord Mowen, and I mean fairly that you had better go from Castlewood. And were you appointed to give me this message, cries the Lord Mowen. Did Frank Esmond commission you? No one did. It was the honour of my family that commissioned me. And you all prepare to answer this, cries the other furiously, lashing his horses. Quite my Lord, your lordship will upset the carriage if you whip so hotly. By George you have a brave spirit, my Lord cried out, bursting into a laugh. I suppose tis that infernal bottle of Jesuit that makes you so bold, he added. Tis the peace of the family I love best in the world. Harry Esmond said warmly, tis the honour of a noble benefactor, the happiness of my dear mistress and her children. I owe them everything in life, my Lord, and would lay it down for any of them. What brings you here, too? Disturbed as quiet as old, what keeps you lingering month after month in the country? What makes you feign illness and invent pretext for delay? Is it to win my poor patron's money? Be generous, my Lord, and spare his weakness for the sake of his wife and children. Is it to practice upon the simple art of a virtuous lady? You might as well storm the tower single-handed, but you may blemish her name by light comments on it or by lawless pursuits. And I don't deny that tis in your power to make her unhappy. Spare these innocent people and leave them by the Lord. I believe thou hast an eye to the pretty Puritan thyself, Master Harry, says my Lord with his reckless good-humoured laugh. And as if he had been listening with interest to the passionate appeal of the young man, whisper, Harry, art thou in love with her thyself. Hath tipsy, Frank Esmond, come by the way of all flesh.  I never had a mother, but I love this lady as one. I worship her as a devotee, worships a saint. To hear her name spoken lightly seems blasphemy to me. Would you dare think of your own mother, sir, or suffer anyone, sir, to speak of her? It is a horror to me to fancy that any man should think of her impurely.  Danger will come out of it. Danger b'chasse, says my Lord, giving a cut to the horses, which at this minute, for we were got on to the downs, fell he ran off into a gallop that no pulling would stop. The rain broke in Lord Mowen's hands, and the furious beast scamped madly forwards, the carriage swaying to and fro, and the persons within it holding on to the sides as best they might, until seeing a great ravine before them, where an upset was inevitable. The two gentlemen leapt for their lives, each out of his side of the chaise. Harry Asmond was quick for a fall on the grass, which was so severe that it stunned him for a minute, but he got up presently very sick and bleeding at the nose, but with no other hurt. The Lord Mowen was not so fortunate.  This misadventure happened as the gentlemen were on their return onwards, and my Lord Gasselwood, with his son and daughter, who were going out for a ride, met the ponies as they were galloping with the car behind, the broken traces entangling their heels, and my Lord's people turned and stopped them. It was young Frank who spied out Lord Mowen's scarlet coat as he lay on the ground, and the party made up to that unfortunate gentleman and Asmond who was now standing over him. His large berry-wig and feathered hat had fallen off, and he was bleeding profusely from a wound on the forehead and looking and being indeed a corpse. Great God, he's dead, says my Lord. Ride. Someone fetch a doctor. Stay. I'll go home and bring back Tasha. He knows surgery, and my Lord, with his son after him, galloped away. They were scarce gone when Ari Asmond was indeed, but just come to himself. He thought him of a similar accident, which he had seen on a ride from Newmarket to Cambridge and taking off a sleeve of my Lord's coat. Ari, with a bent knife, opened a vein of his arm and was greatly relieved after a moment to see the blood flow. He was near half an hour before he came to himself, by which time Dr. Tusher and little Frank arrived and found my Lord, not a corpse indeed, but as pale as one. After a time, when he was able to bear motion, they put my Lord upon a groom's horse and gave the other to Asmond, the men walking on each side of my Lord to support him, if need were, and were the Dr. Tusher with them. Little Frank and Ari rode together at a foot base. When we rode together home, the boy said, we met Mama who was walking on the terrace with the doctor and Papa frightened her and told her you were dead, that I was dead, asked Ari. Yes, Papa says, here's poor Ari killed, my dear, on which Mama gives a great scream. And, oh, Ari, she drops down and I thought she was dead, too, and you never saw such a way as Papa was in. He swore one of his great oaths and he turned quite pale, and then he began to laugh somehow, and he told the doctor to take his horse and me to follow him, and we left him, and I looked back and saw him dashing water out of the fountain on to Mama. Oh, she was so frightened, musing upon this curious history, for my Lord Mohan's name was Henry, too, and they called each other Frank and Ari often, and not a little disturbed and anxious, Asmond rode home. His dear lady was on the terrace still, one of her women with her, and my Lord no longer there. There are steps and a little door thence down into the road. My Lord asked, looking very ghastly, with a handkerchief over his head, and without his hat and very wig, which a groom garried, but his politeness did not desert him, and he made a bow to the lady above. Thank Heaven, you are safe, she said. And so is Harry, too, Mama, says little Frank. Huzzah! Harry Asmond got off the horse to run to his mistress, as did little Frank, and one of the grooms took charge of the two beasts, while the other, hat and very wig and hand, walked by my Lord's bridal to the front gate, which lay half a mile away. Oh, my boy, what a fright you have given me, Lady Castlewood said. When Harry Asmond came up, greeting him with one of her shining looks, and a voice of tender welcome, and she was so kind as to kiss the young man, it was the second time she had so honoured him, and she walked into the house between him and her son, holding a hand of each. End of Book One, Chapter Thirteen, Recording by Gemma Blythe Book One, Chapter Fourteen, of the History of Henry Asmond Esquire, by William Makepeace Thackeray. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Gemma Blythe. We ride after him to London. Book One, Chapter Fourteen After a repose of a couple of days, the Lord Moan was so far recovered of his hurt as to be able to announce his departure for the next morning, when, accordingly, he took leave of Castlewood, proposing to ride to London by easy stages, and lie two nights upon the road. His host treated him with a studied and ceremonious courtesy, certainly different from my Lord's usual frank and careless demeanor. But there was no reason to suppose that the two Lords parted otherwise than good friends, though Harry Esmond remarked that my Lord Vike out only saw his guest in company with other persons, and seemed to avoid being alone with him. Nor did he ride any distance with Lord Moan, as his custom was with most of his friends, whom he was always eager to welcome and unwilling to lose, but contended himself when his Lordship's horses were announced, that their owner appeared, booted for his journey, to take a courteous leave of the ladies of Castlewood. By following the Lord Moan downstairs to his horses, and by bowing and wishing him a good day in the courtyard, I shall see you in London before very long, Moan, my Lord said with a smile, when we will settle our accounts together. Do not let them trouble you, Frank, said the other good-naturedly, and holding out his hand, looked rather surprised at the grim and stately manner in which his host received his parting salutation, and so followed by his people, he rode away. Harry Esmond was witness of the departure. It was very different to my Lord's coming, for which great preparation had been made. The old Owls putting on its best appearance to welcome its guest, and there was his sadness and constraint about all persons that day, which filled Mr. Esmond with gloomy forebodings and sad, indefinite apprehensions. Lord Castlewood stood at the door, watching his guest and his people as they went out under the arch or the outer gate. When he was there, Lord Moan turned once more, my Lord Vigant slowly raised his beaver and bowed. His face wore a peculiar livid look, Harry thought. He cursed and kicked away his dogs, which came jumping about him. Then he walked up to the fountain in the center of the court, and leaned against a pillar and looked into the basin. As Esmond crossed over to his own room, laid the chaplains on the other side of the court, and turned to enter in at the low door, he saw Lady Castlewood looking through the curtains of the great window of the drawing room overhead, at my Lord as he stood regarding the fountain. There was in the quarter peculiar silence somehow, and the scene remained long in Esmond's memory. The sky bright overhead, the buttresses of the building and the sundial casting shadow of the gift memento morai inscribed underneath. The two dogs, a black greyhound and a spaniel nearly white, the one with his face up to the sun, and the other snuffing amongst the grass and stones, and my Lord leaning over the fountain, which was bubbling audibly. Too strange how that scene and the sound of that fountain remain fixed on the memory of a man who has beheld a hundred sights of splendor and danger, too, of which he has kept no account. It was Lady Castlewood.   And so it was that Esmond was made an eavesdropper at this lady's orders and retired to his own chamber to give himself time in truth to try and compose a story which would soothe his mistress. For he could not but have his own apprehension that some serious quarrel was bending between the two gentlemen. And now for several days the little company of Castlewood sat at table as of evenings, this care, though unnamed and invisible, being nevertheless present always in the minds of at least three persons there. My lord was exceeding gentle and kind. Whenever he quitted the room, his wife's eyes followed him. He behaved to her with a kind of mournful courtesy and kindness remarkable in one of his blunt ways and ordinary rough manner. He called her by her Christian name often and fondly, was very soft and gentle with the children, especially with the boy whom he did not love, and being lax about church generally, he went thither and performed all the offices down even to listening to Dr. Tush's sermon with great devotion. He paces his room all night. What is it, Henry, find out what it is? Lady Castlewood said constantly to a young dependent. He has sent three letters to London, she said, another day. Indeed, madam, they were to a lawyer, I answered, who knew of these letters and had seen a part of the correspondence, which related to a new loan my lord was raising. And when the young man remonstrated with his patron, my lord said, He was only raising money to pay off an old debt on the property, which must be discharged. Regarding the money, Lady Castlewood was not in the least anxious. Few fond women feel money distressed.  And I remember hearing Mr. Congreve say of my lord Marlborough, that the reason why my lord was so successful with women as a young man was because he took money of them. There are few men who will make such a sacrifice for them, says Mr. Congreve, who knew a part of the sex pretty well. Harry Asman's vacation was just over, and as Hapman said, he was preparing to return to the university for his last term before taking his degree and entering into the church. He had made up his mind for this office, not indeed with that reverence, which becomes a man about to enter upon a duty so holy, but with a worldly spirit of acquiescence in the prudence of adopting that profession for his calling. But his reasoning was that he owed all to the family of Castlewood and loved better to be near them than anywhere else in the world, that he might be useful to his benefactors who had the utmost confidence in him and affection for him in return, that he might aid in bringing up the young heir of the house and acting as his governor, that he might continue to be his dear patrons and mistress's friend and advisor, who both were pleased to say that they should ever look upon him as such. And so, by making himself useful to those he loved best, he proposed to console himself for giving up any scheme of ambition which he might have had in his own bosom. Indeed, his mistress had told him that she would not have him leave her and whatever she commanded was will to him. The Lady Castlewood's mind was greatly relieved in the last few days of this well-remembered holiday time. By my Lord's announcing one morning after the post had brought him letters from London in a careless tone, that the Lord Mullen was gone to Paris and was about to make a great journey in Europe. And though Lord Castlewood's own gloom did not wear all for his behavior alter, yet this cause of anxiety being removed from his Lady's mind, she began to be more hopeful and easy in her spirits, driving to with all her heart, and by all the means of soothing in her power to call back my Lord's cheerfulness and dissipate his moody humor, he accounted for it himself. By saying that he was out of health, that he wanted to see his physician, that he would go to London and consult Dr. Chen, it was agreed that his Lordship and Harry Asman should make the journey as far as London together. And over Monday morning, the 11th of October in the year 1700, they set forwards toward London on horseback. The day before being Sunday and the rain pouring down, the family did not visit church, and at night my Lord read the service to his family very finely, and with a peculiar sweetness and gravity, speaking the parting benediction. Harry thought as solemn as ever he heard it, and he kissed and embraced his wife and children before they went to their own chambers, with more fondness than he was ordinarily want to show, and with a solemnity and feeling of which they thought in after days with no small comfort. They took horses the next morning, after a dew from the family as tender as on the night previous, lay that night on the road, and entered London at nightfall. My Lord going to the trumpet in the cockpit, Whitehall, a house used by the military in his time as a young man, and accustomed by his Lordship ever since. An hour after my Lord's arrival, which showed that his visit had been arranged beforehand, my Lord's man of business arrived from Grey's Inn, and thinking that his patron might wish to be private with the lawyer. Esmond was for leaving them, but my Lord said his business was short, introduced Mr. Esmond particularly to the lawyer, who had been engaged for the family in the old Lord's time, who said that he had paid the money as desired that day, to my Lord Mullen himself at his lodgings in Bow Street, that his Lordship had expressed some surprise, as it was not customary to employ lawyers, he said, in such transactions between men of honour, but nevertheless he had returned my Lord Viscount's note of end, which he had held at his client's disposition. I thought the Lord Mullen had been in Paris, cried Mr. Esmond in great alarm and astonishment. He has come back at my invitation, said my Lord Viscount. We have accounts to settle together. I pray heaven they are over, says Esmond. Oak White replied the other, looking odd at the young man. He was rather troublesome about that money, which I told you I had lost to him at play. And now it is paid, and we are quits on that score, and we shall meet good friends again. My Lord, cried out Esmond, I am sure you are deceiving me, and that there is a quarrel between the Lord Mullen and you. Quarrel. Pish, we shall sup together this very night and drink a bottle. Every man is ill-humoured, who loses such a sum as I have lost, but now it is paid, and my anger is gone with it. Where shall we sup, sir, says Harry? We. Let some gentlemen wait till they are arsed, says my Lord Viscount, with a laugh. You go to Duke Street and see Mr. Bettenton. You love the play, I know. Leave me to follow my own devices, and in the morning we'll breakfast together, with what appetite we may, as the play says. By God, my Lord, I will not leave you this night, says Harry Esmond. I think I know the cause of your dispute. I swear to you, it is nothing. On the very day the accident befell Lord Mullen, I was speaking to him about it. I know that nothing has passed, but idle gallantry on his board. You know that nothing has passed, but idle gallantry between Lord Mullen and my wife, says my Lord, in a thundering voice. You knew of this and did not tell me. I knew more of it than my dear mistress did herself, sir. A thousand times more. How was she, who was as innocent as a child, to know what was the meaning of the covert addresses of a villain? A villain, he is, you allow, and would have taken my wife away from me. Sir, she is as pure as an angel, cried young Esmond. Have I said a word against her, shrieks out my Lord? Did I ever doubt that she was pure? It would have been the last day of her life when I did. Did you fancy I think that she would go astray? No, she hasn't passion enough for that. She neither sins nor forgives. I know her temper, and now I've lost her. By heaven, I love her ten thousand times more than ever I did. Yes, when she was as young and as beautiful as an angel, when she smiled at me in her old father's house, and used to lie and wait for me there as I came from hunting, when I used to fling my head down on her little knees and cry like a child on her lap, and swear I would reform, and drink no more, and play no more, and follow women no more. When all the men of the court used to be following her, when she used to look with her child more beautiful by George than the Madonna in the Queen's Chapel, I am not good like her. I know it. Who is by heaven? Who is? I died and worried her. I know that very well. I could not talk to her. You men of wit and books could do that. And I couldn't. I felt I couldn't. Why, when you was but a boy of fifteen, I could hear you two together talking your poetry and your books till I was in such a rage that I was fit to strangle you. But you were always a good lad, Ari. And I loved you. You know I did. And I felt she didn't belong to me, and the children don't. And I besotted myself, and gambled and drank, and took to all sorts of devil trees out of despair and fury. And now comes this mowing. And she likes him. I know she likes him. Indeed. And on my soul, you all wrong, sir. Esmond cried. She takes letters from him, cries my lord. Look here, Ari. And he pulled out a paper with a brown stain of blood upon it. It fell from him that day he wasn't killed. One of the grooms picked it up from the ground and gave it to me. Here it is in their damned comedy jogging. Divine Gloriana. Why look so coldly on your slave who adores you? Have you no compassion on the tortures you have seen me suffering? Do you vouchsafe? No reply to billets that are written with the blood of my heart. She had more letters from him. But she answered, none cries Esmond. That's not no one's fault, says my lord. And I will be revenged on him as gods in heaven. I will. For a light word or two, will you risk your lady's honor and your family's happiness, my lord? Esmond interphosed besiegingly. Sha, there shall be no question of my wife's honors, said my lord. We can quarrel on plenty of grounds beside. If I live, that villain will be punished. If I fall, my family will be only the better. There will only be a spendthrift the less to keep in the world. And Frank has better teaching than his father. My mind is made up, Harry Esmond. And whatever the event is, I am easy about it.  Seeing that my lord was bent upon pursuing this quarrel and that no entreaties would draw him from it, Harry Esmond, then of a hearter and more impetuous nature than now, when care and reflection and gray hairs have calmed him, thought it was his duty to stand by his kind, generous patron, and said, my lord, if you are determined upon war, you must not go into it alone. It is the duty of our house to stand by its chief, and I should neither forgive myself nor you if you did not call me, or I should be absent from you at a moment of danger. Why, Harry, my poor boy, you are bred for a parson, says my lord, taking Esmond by the hand very kindly. And it were a great pity that you should meddle in the matter.  Your enemies are mine, sir. I can use the foils, as you have seen, indifferently well, and don't think I shall be afraid when the buttons are taken off. And then Harry explained, with some blushes and hesitation, for the matter was delicate, and he feared lest, by having put himself forward in the quarrel, he might have offended his patron, how he had himself expost related with the Lord Moan, and proposed to measure swords with him if need were, and he could not be got to withdraw peaceably in this dispute. And I should have beat him, sir, says Harry, laughing. He never could bury that bottle I brought from Gamebridge. Let us have half an hour of it, and rehearse. I can teach it, your lordship. It is the most delicate point in the world, and if you miss it, your adversary sword is through you. By George, Harry, you ought to be the head of the house, says my lord, gloomily. You had been a better Lord Castlewood, than a lacy sought like me, added, drawing his hand across his eyes, and surveying his kinsmen with very kind and affectionate glances. Let us take our coats off, and have half an hour's practice before night falls, says Harry, off to thankfully grasping his patron's banly hand. You are but a little bit of a lad, says my lord, good humoredly. But in faith I believe you could do for that fellow. No, my boy, he continued. I'll have none of your feints and tricks of stabbing. I can use my sword pretty well, too, and will fight my own quarrel, my own way. But I shall be by to see fair play, cries Harry.  When is it, says Harry? Well, he saw that the matter had been arranged privately, and beforehand, by my lord. It is arranged thus. I sent off a courier to Jack Westbury to say that I wanted him specially. He knows for what, and will be here presently, and drink part of that bottle of sack. Then we shall go to the theater in Duke Street, where we shall meet Moen, and then we shall all go sup at the Rose, or the Greyhound. Then we shall call for cards, and there will be probably a difference over the cards. And then, God help us, either a wicked villain and traitor shall go out of the world, or a poor, worthless devil that doesn't care to remain in it. I am better away. Al. My wife will be all the happier when I am gone, as my lord, with a groan that tore the heart of Ari Esmond, so that he fairly broke into a sob over his patron's kind. And the business was talked over with Moen before he left home. Gasselwood, I mean. My lord went on. I took the letter into him, which I had read, and I charged him with his villainy, and he could make no denial of it. Only he said that my wife was innocent. And so she is. Before heaven, my lord, she is, cries Ari. No doubt. No doubt. They always ask, says my lord. No doubt. When she heard he was killed, she fainted from accident. But my lord, my name is Ari. Cryed out Esmond, burning red. You told my lady, Harry was killed. Damnation, shall I fight you too? Shouts my lord in a fury.  You know my boy.   And here he broke from rage into tears, even more cruel to see.  And I love you. And by heavens, I am so wretched that I don't care what sort it is that ends me. Stop. Here's Jack Westbury. Well, Jack, welcome, old boy. This is my kinsman, Ari Esmond, who brought your bowls for you at Castlewood, sir. Says Harry, bowing. And the three gentlemen sat down and drank of that bottle of sack which was prepared for them. Harry is number three, he says my lord. You needn't be afraid of him, Jack. And the colonel gave a look as much as to say, Indeed, he don't look as if I need. And then my lord explained what he had only tilled by hints before. When he quarreled with Lord Mowen, he was indebted to his lordship in a sum of sixteen hundred pounds, for which Lord Mowen said he proposed to wait until my lord by count should pay him. My lord had raised the sixteen hundred pounds and sent them to Lord Mowen that morning, and before quitting home had put his affairs into order and was now quite ready to abide the issue of the quarrel. When we had drunk a couple of bottles of sack, a coach was called and the three gentlemen went to the Duke's playhouse as agreed. The play was one of Mr. White's release, Love in a Wood. Harry Asmond has thought of that play of his sins with a kind of terror and of Mrs. Brace-Girdle, the actress who performed the girl's part in the comedy. She was disguised as a page and came and stood before the gentlemen as they sat on the stage and looked over her shoulder with a pair of arch-black eyes and laughed at my lord and asked what held the gentleman from the country. And had he had bad news from Bullock Fair. Between the acts of the play the gentleman crossed over and conversed freely. There were two of Lord Mowen's body, Captain McCartney, in a military habit, and a gentleman in a suit of blue velvet and silver in a fair periwig with a rich fall of point of Venice lace. My lord, the Earl of Warwick in Holland. My lord had a paper of oranges which he ate and offered to the actresses joking with them. And Mrs. Brace-Girdle when Lord Mowen said something rude turned on him and asked him what he did there. And whether he and his friends had come to stab anybody else as they did poor Will Monford. My lord's dark face grew darker at this taunt and wore a mischievous fatal look. They that saw it remembered it and said so out toward. When the play was ended the two parties joined company and the Lord Castle would then propose that they should go to a tavern and sup. Lockets, the grey-ound and jarring cross was the house selected. All six marched together that way. The three lords going ahead. Lord Mowen's captain and Colonel Westbury and Ari Esmond walking behind them. As they walked Westbury told Ari Esmond about his old friend Dick the Scholar who had got promotion and was cornet of the gods. And had wrote a book called The Christian Hero and had all the gods to laugh at him for his pains. For the Christian Hero was breaking the commandments constantly. Westbury said. And had bought one or two duels already. And in a lower tone Westbury best sought young Mr. Esmond to take no part in the quarrel. There is no need for more seconds than one, said the Colonel, and the captain or Lord Warwick might easily withdraw. But Ari said no. He was bent on going through with the business.  They went in at the bar of the tavern and desired a private room and wine and cards and when the drawer had brought these they began to drink in call health and as long as the servants were in the room appeared very friendly. Ari Esmond's plan was no other than to engage in talk with Lord Mowen to insult him and so get the first of the quarrel. So when the cards were proposed he offered to play. Pasha said to my Lord Mowen whether wishing to save Ari or not choosing to try the bottle of Jesuit it is not to be known. Young gentlemen from college would not play these stakes.  Who dares say I am too young? broke out Ari. Is your lordship afraid? Afraid? cries out Mowen. But my good Lord Viscount saw the move. I'll play you for ten modus. Mowen says he. You silly boy we don't play for grotes here as you do at Gamebridge. And Ari who had no such sum in his pocket for his half year salary was always pretty well spent before it was due. Fell back with rage and vexation in his heart that he had not money enough to stake. I'll stake the young gentleman a crown says the Lord Mowen's captain. I thought crowns were rather scarce for the gentleman of the army says Ari. Do they burt at college? says the captain. They burt fools as Ari and they gain bullies and they fling puppies into the water. They thin. There's some escapes drownings says the captain who was an Irishman and all the gentlemen began to laugh and make poor Harry only more angry. My Lord Mowen presently snuffed a candle. It was when the draws brought in fresh bottles and glasses and were in the room on which my Lord Viscount said. The do stake you Mowen how damned awkward you are. Light the candle you draw. Damned awkward is a damned awkward expression my Lord says the other. Damn gentlemen don't use such words or ask pardon if they do. I'm a country gentleman says my Lord Viscount. I see it by your manner says my Lord Mowen. No man shall say damned awkward to me. I fling the words in your face my Lord says the other. Shall I send the cards to gentlemen, gentlemen before the servants? Cry out Colonel Westbury and my Lord Warwick in a breath. The draws go out of the room hastily. They tell the people below of the quarrel upstairs. Enough has been said says Colonel Westbury. Will your Lordships meet tomorrow morning? Will my Lord Castlewood withdraw his words? asks the Earl of Warwick. My Lord Castlewood will be first says Colonel Westbury. Then we have nothing for it. Take notice gentlemen. There have been outrageous words. Reparation asked and refused. And refused says my Lord Castlewood putting on a sat. Where shall the meeting be and when? Since my Lord refuses me satisfaction which I deeply regret. There is no time so good as now says my Lord morn. Let us have chairs and go to Leicester Field. All your Lordship and I to have the honor of exchanging a pass over to says Colonel Westbury with a low bell to my Lord of Warwick in Arland. It is an honor for me says my Lord with a profound congy to be matched with a gentleman who has been at Morn's and more. Will your reverence permit me to give you a lesson? says the captain. Nay, Nay, gentlemen to and aside are plenty. Says Ari's patron. Spare the boy, Captain McCartney.  At the bar of the town and all the gentlemen stopped. And my Lord Wacken said laughing to the borrowable man that those gods set people sadly acquireling. But that the dispute was over now and that the parties were all going away to my Lord Morn's house in Bow Street to drink a bottle more before going to bed. A half dozen of chairs were now called and the six gentlemen stepping into them. The word was privately given to the chairman to go to Leicester Field where the gentleman was sat down opposite the standard tavern. It was midnight and the town was a bed by this time and only a few lights in the windows of the houses. But the night was bright enough for the unhappy purpose which the disputants came about. And so all six entered into that fatal square. The Germans standing without the railing and keeping the gate. Lest any persons should disturb the meeting. All that happened there have been matter of public notoriety and is recorded for warning to lawless men in the annals of our country. After being engaged for not more than a couple of minutes as Harry Esmond thought, though being occupied at the time with his own adversary's point which was active, he may not have taken a good note of time a cry from the chairman without who was smoking their pipes and leaning over the railings of the field as they watched the dim combat within, announced that some catastrophe had happened which caused Esmond to drop his sword and look round at which moment his enemy wounded him in the right hand. But the young man did not heed this hurt much and ran up to the place where he saw his dear master was down. My Lord Moran was standing over him. Are you much old Frank? He asked in a hollow voice. I believe I am a dead man, my Lord said from the ground. No, no, not so, as the other. And I call God to witness, Frank Esmond, that I would have asked your pardon had you given me a chance. In the first calls of our falling out I swear that no one was to blame but me. And that my lady, Hush, says my poor Lord, if I count, lifting himself on his elbow and speaking faintly. It was a dispute about the gods, the cursed gods. Harry, my boy, are you wounded too? God help thee. I love thee, Harry. And thou must watch over my little Frank and carry this little heart to my wife.  We were all at this terrified, thinking him dead. But Esmond and Colonel Westbury bade the German come into the field. And so my Lord was carried to one Mr. Ames, a surgeon in Longacre who kept a bath. And there the house was wakened up and the victim of this quarrel carried in. My Lord, if I count, was put to bed and his wound looked to by the surgeon who seemed both kind and skillful. When he had looked to my Lord he bandaged up Harry Esmond's hand who from loss of blood had fainted too in the house and may have been some time unconscious. And when the young man came to himself you may be sure he eagerly asked what news there were of his dear patron on which the surgeon carried him to the room where the Lord Castle would lay who had already sent for a priest and desired earnestly they said to speak with his kinsmen.   Let me make thee a deathbed confession and with sacred death waiting as it were at the bed foot as an awful witness of his words the poor dying soul gasped out his last wishes in respect of his family his humble profession of contrition for his faults and his charity towards the world he was leaving some things he said concerned Harry Esmond as much as they astonished him and my Lord vicar sinking visibly was in the midst of these strange confessions when the ecclesiastic for whom my Lord had sent Mr. Atterbury arrived this gentleman had reached to no great church dignity as yet but was only preacher at St. Brides drawing all the town thither by his eloquent sermons he was God's son to my Lord who had been pupil to his father had paid a visit to Castlewood from Oxford more than once and it was by his advice I think that Harry Esmond was sent to Cambridge rather than to Oxford of which place Mr. Atterbury though a distinguished member spoke but ill our messenger found the good priest already at his books at five o'clock in the morning and he followed the man eagerly to the house where my poor Lord vicar lay Esmond watching him and taking his dying words from his mouth my Lord hearing of Mr. Atterbury's arrival and squeezing Esmond's hand asked to be alone with the priest and Esmond left the mouth for this solemn interview you may be sure that his own prayers and grief accompanied that dying benefactor my Lord had said to him that which confounded the young man informed him of a secret which greatly concerned him indeed after hearing it he had had good cause for doubt and dismay for mental anguish as well as resolution while the colloquy between Mr. Atterbury and his dying penitent took place within an immense contest of perplexity was agitating Lord Castlewood's young companion at the end of an hour it may be more Mr. Atterbury came out of the room looking very hard at Esmond and holding a paper he is on the brink of God's awful judgment the priest whispered he has made his breast clean to me he forgives and believes and makes restitution shall it be in public shall we call a witness to sign it God knows sobbed out the young man my dearest Lord has only done me kindness all his life the priest put the paper into Esmond's hand he looked at it it swam before his eyes disa confession he said dis as you please said Mr. Atterbury there was a fire on the room where the cloths were drying for the baths and there lay a heap in the corner saturated with the blood of my dear Lord's body Esmond went to the fire and threw the paper into it it was a great chimney with glazed Dutch tiles how we remember such trifles at such awful moments the scrap of the book that we have read in a great grief the taste of that lost dish that we have eaten before dual or some such supreme meeting or parting on the Dutch tiles at the Barnier was a rude picture representing Jacob and Harry Gloves cheating Isaac of Ace's birthright the burning paper lighted it up dis only a confession Mr. Atterbury he said the young man he leaned his head against the mantelpiece a burst of tears came to his eyes there were the first he had shed as he sat by his Lord scared by this calamity and more yet by what the poor dying gentleman had told him and shocked to think that he should be the agent of bringing this double misfortune on those he loved best let us go to him said Mr. Esmond and accordingly they went into the next chamber whereby this time the dawn had broke which showed my Lord's poor pale face and wild appealing eyes that wore that awful fatal look of coming dissolution the surgeon was with him he went into the chamber as Atterbury came out thence my Lord Vicant turned round his sick eyes towards Esmond it choked the other to hear that rattle in his throat my Lord Vicant said Mr. Atterbury Mr. Esmond wants no witnesses and had burned the paper my dearest master Esmond said kneeling down and taking his hand and kissing it my Lord Vicant sprang up in his bed and flung his arms around Esmond God bless was all he said the blood rushed from his mouth deluging the young man my dearest Lord was no more he was gone with a blessing on his lips and love and repentance and kindness in his manly art Benedicti benedicintus says Mr. Atterbury and the young man kneeling at the bedside groaned out an amen who shall take the news to uh was Mr. Esmond's next thought and on this he besought Mr. Atterbury to bear the tidings to Castlewood he could not face his mistress himself with those dreadful news Mr. Atterbury can fly and kindly Esmond read a hasty note on his table booked my Lord's man bidding him get the horses for Mr. Atterbury and ride with him and send Esmond's own beliefs to the gatehouse prison whether he resolved to go and give himself up end of book one chapter 14 recording by Gemma Blythe book two chapter one of the history of Henry Esmond Esquire by William Makepeace Thackeray this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Ralph Snelson the history of Henry Esmond Esquire by William Makepeace Thackeray book two chapter one I am in prison and visited but not consoled there those may imagine who have seen death untimely strike down persons revered and beloved and know how unavailing consolation is what was Harry Esmond's anguish after being an actor in that ghastly midnight scene of blood and homicide he could not he felt have faced his dear mistress and hold her that story he was thankful that kind Atterbury consented to break the sad news to her but besides his grief which he took into prison with him he had that in his heart which secretly cheered and consoled him a great secret had been told to Esmond by his unhappy stricken kinsmen lying on his deathbed were he to disclose it as in equity and honor he might do the discovery would but bring greater grief upon those whom he loved best in the world and who were sad enough already should he bring down shame and perplexity upon all those beings to whom he was attached by so many tender ties of affection and gratitude degrade his father's widow impeach and sully his father's and kinsmen's honor and for what for a barren title to be worn at the expense of an innocent boy the son of his dearest benefactress he had debated this manner in his conscience whilst his poor lord was making his dying confession on one side were ambition temptation just deceiving but love gratitude and fidelity pleaded on the other and when the struggle was over in Harry's mind a glow of righteous happiness filled it and it was with grateful tears in his eyes that he returned thanks to God for that decision which he had been able to make when I was denied by my own blood thought he these dearest friends received and cherished me when I was a nameless orphan myself and needed a protector I found one in yonder kind soul who was gone to his account repenting of the innocent wrong he has done and with this consoling thought he went away to give himself up at the prison after kissing the cold lips of his benefactor it was on the third day after he had come to the gatehouse prison where he lay in no small pain from his wound which inflamed and ate severely and with those thoughts and resolutions that have been just spoke of to depress and yet to console him that H. Esmond's keeper came and told him that a visitor was asking for him and though he could not see her face which was enveloped in a black hood her whole figure too being bailed and covered with the deepest mourning Esmond knew at once that his visitor was his dear mistress he got up from his bed where he was lying being very weak and advancing towards her as the retiring keeper shut the door upon him and his guest in that sad place he put forward his left hand for the right was wounded and bandaged and he would have taken that kind one of his mistress which had done so many offices of friendship for him for so many years but the Lady Castlewood went back from him putting back her hood and leaning against the great staunchened door which the Gailer had just closed upon them her face was ghastly white as Edmond saw it looking from the hood and her eyes ordinarily so sweet and tender were fixed on him with such a tragic glance of woe and anger as caused the young man unaccustomed to unkindness from that person to avert his own glances from her face and this Mr. Esmond she said is where I see you and is to this you have brought me you have come to console me in my calamity madam said he though in truth he scarce knew how to address her his emotions at beholding her so overpowered him she advanced a little but stood silent and trembling looking out at him from her black draperies with her small white hands clasped together and quivering lips and hollow eyes not to reproach me he continued after a pause my grief is sufficient as it is take back your hand do not touch me with it she cried look there's blood on it I wish they had taken it all said Esmond if you are unkind to me where is my husband she broke out give me back my husband Henry why did you stand by at midnight and see him murdered why did the traitor escape who did it you the champion of your house who offered to die for us you that he loved and trusted and to whom I confided him you that bowed devotion and gratitude and I believed you yes I believe you why are you here and my noble Francis gone why did you come among us you have only brought us grief and sorrow and repentance bitter bitter repentance as a return for our love and kindness did I ever do you wrong Henry you were but an orphan child when I first saw you when he first saw you who was so good and noble and trusting he would have had you sent away but like a foolish woman I besought him to let you stay and you pretended to love us and we believed you and you made our house wretched and my husband's heart went from me and I lost him through you I lost him the husband of my youth I lost him the husband of my youth I say I worshiped him you know I worshiped him and he was changed to me he was no more my Francis of old my dear dear soldier he loved me before he saw you and I loved him oh God is my witness how I loved him why did he not send you from among us it was only his kindness that could refuse me nothing then and young as you were yes and weak and alone there was evil I knew there was evil in keeping you I read it in your face and eyes I saw that they boated harm to us and it came I knew it would why did you not die when you had the smallpox and I came myself and watched you and you didn't know me in your delirium and you called out for me though I was there at your side all that has happened since was a just judgment on my wicked heart my wicked jealous heart oh I am punished awfully punished my husband lies in his blood murdered for defending me my kind kind generous Lord and you were by and you let him die Henry these words uttered in the wildness of her grief by one who was ordinarily quiet and spoke seldom except with a gentle smile and a soothing tone rung in Asman's ear and his said that he repeated many of them in the fever into which he now fell from his wound and perhaps from the emotion which such passionate undeserved upradings caused him it seemed as if his very sacrifices and love for this lady and her family were to turn to evil and reproach as if his presence amongst them was indeed a cause of grief and the continuance of his life but woe and bitterness to theirs as the Lady Castlewood spoke bitterly rapidly without a tear he never offered a word of appeal or remonstrance but sat at the foot of his prison bed stricken only with the more pain at thinking it was that soft and beloved hand which should stab him so cruelly and powerless against her fatal sorrow her words that she spoke struck the cords of all his memory and the whole of his boyhood and youth passed within him whilst this lady so fond and gentle but yesterday this good angel whom he had loved and worshipped stood before him pursuing him with keen words and aspect malign I wish I were in my Lord's place he groaned out it was not my fault that I was not there madam but fate is stronger than all of us and willed what has come to pass it had been better for me to have died when I had the illness yes Henry she said and as she spoke she looked at him with a glance that was at once so fond and so sad that the young man tossing up his arms wildly fell back hiding his head in the coverlet of the bed as he turned he struck against the wall with his wounded hand displacing the licorice and he felt the blood rushing again from the wound he remembered feeling a secret pleasure at the accident and thinking suppose I were to end now who would grieve for me this hemorrhage or the grief and despair in which the luckless young man was at the time of the accident must have brought on a deliquium presently for he had scarce any recollection afterwards save of someone his mistress probably seizing his hand and then of the buzzing noise in his ears as he awoke with two or three persons of the prison around his bed where on he lay in a pool of blood from his arm it was now bandaged up again by the prison surgeon who happened to be in the place and the governor's wife and servant kind people both were with the patient Esmond saw his mistress still in the room when he awoke from his trance but she went away without a word though the governor's wife told him that she sat in her room for some time afterward and did not leave the prison until she heard that Esmond was likely to do well days afterwards when Esmond was brought out of a fever which he had and which attacked him that night pretty sharply the honest keeper's wife brought her patient a handkerchief fresh washed and ironed and at the corner of which he recognized his mistress's well-known cipher and Biscountess's crown the lady had bound it round his arm when he fainted and before she called for help the keeper's wife said poor lady she took on sadly about her husband he has been buried today and many of the coaches of the nobility went with him my Lord Marlboro's and my Lord Sunderlands and many of the officers of the guards in which he served in the old king's time and my lady has been with her two children to the king at Kensington and asked for justice against my Lord Mohan who is in hiding and my Lord the Earl of Warwick and Holland who is ready to give himself up and take his trial such were the news coupled with assertions about her own honesty and that of Molly her maid who would never have stolen a certain Trumpery gold-sleeve button of Mr. Esmond's that was missing after his fainting fit that the keeper's wife brought to her lodger his thoughts followed to that untimely grave the brave heart the kind friend the gallant gentleman honest of word and generous of thought if feeble of purpose but are his betters much stronger than he who had given him bread and shelter when he had none home and love when he needed them and who if he had kept one vital secret from him had done that of which he repented air-dying a wrong indeed but one followed by remorse and occasioned by almost irresistible temptation Esmond took his handkerchief when his nurse left him and very likely kissed it and looked at the bobble embroidered in the corner it has caused the grief enough he thought dear lady so loving and so tender shall i take it from thee and thy children no never keep it and wear it my little frank my pretty boy if i cannot make a name for myself i can die without one someday when my dear mistress sees my heart i shall be righted or if not here or now why elsewhere where honor doth not follow us but where love reigns perpetual it is needless to relate here as the reports of the lawyers already have chronicled them the particulars or issue of that trial which him sued upon my lord castle woods melancholy homicide of the two lords engaged in that sad matter the second my lord the earl of warwick and holland who had been engaged with colonel westbury and wounded by him was not found not guilty by his peers before whom he was tried under the presidents of the lord steward lord summer and the principal the lord mohan being found guilty of the manslaughter which indeed was forced upon him and of which he repented most sincerely pleaded his clergy and so was discharged without any penalty the widow of the slain nobleman as it was told us in prison showed an extraordinary spirit and though she had to wait for ten years before her son was old enough to compass it declared she would have revenge of her husband's murderer so much and suddenly had grief anger and misfortune appeared to change her but fortune good orial as i take it does not change men and women it but develops their characters as there are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up the pen to write so the heart is a secret even to him or her who has it in his own breast who had not found himself surprised into revenge or action or passion for good or evil whereof the seeds lay within him latent and unsuspected until the occasion called him forth with the death of her lord a change seemed to come over the whole conduct and mind of lady castle would but of this we shall speak in the right season and anon the lords being tried then before their peers at Westminster according to their privilege being brought from the tower with state processions and barges and accompanied by lieutenants and the axmen the commoners engaged in that melancholy fray took their trial at new gate as became them and being all found guilty pleaded likewise their benefit of clergy the sentence as we all know in these cases is that the culprit lies a year in prison or during the king's pleasure and is burned in the hand or only stamped with a gold iron or this part of the punishment is altogether remitted at the grace of the sovereign so harry esmond found himself a criminal and a prisoner at two and twenty years old as for the two kernels his comrades they took the matter very lightly dueling was a part of their business and they could not in honour refuse any invitations of that sort but the case was different with mr. esmond his life was changed by that stroke of the sword which destroyed his kind patrons as he lay in prison old doctor toucher fell ill and died and lady castle would appointed Thomas toucher to the vacant living about the filling of which she had a thousand times fondly talked to harry esmond how they never should how he should educate her boy how to be a country clergyman like saintly george herbert or pious dr. ten was the happiest and greatest lot in life how if he were obstinately bent on it though for her part she owned rather to holding queen best's opinion that a bishop should have no wife and if not a bishop why a clergyman she would find a good wife for harry esmond and so on with a hundred pretty prospects told by fireside evenings in fond prattle as the children played about the hall all these plans were overthrown now Thomas toucher wrote to esmond as he lay in prison announcing that his patroness had conferred upon him the living his reverend father had held for many years that she never after the tragical events which had occurred were of tom spoke with a very edifying horror could see in the reverend toucher's puppet or at her son's table the man who was answerable for the father's life that her ladyship made him to say that she prayed for her kinsman's repentance and his worldly happiness that he was free to command her aid for any scheme of life which he might propose to himself but that on this side of the grave she would see him no more and toucher for his own part added that harry should have his prayers as a friend of his youth and commended him whilst he was in prison to read certain works of theology which his reverence pronounced to be very wholesome for sinners in his lamentable condition and this was the return for a life of devotion this the end of years of affection at intercourse and passionate fidelity harry would have died for his patron and was held as little better than his murderer he had sacrificed she did not know how much for his mistress and she threw him aside he had endowed her family with all they had and she talked about giving him alms as to a menial the grief for his patron's loss the pains of his own present position and doubts as to the future all these were forgotten under the sense of the consummate outrage which he had to endure and overpowered by the superior pang of that torture he ripped back a letter to mr. toucher from his prison congratulating his reverence upon his appointment to the living of castlewood sarcastically forbidding him to follow in the footsteps of his admirable father whose gown had descended upon him thanking her ladyship for her offer of alms which he said he should trust not to need and to be seeking her to remember that if ever her determination should change toward him he would be ready to give her proofs of a fidelity which had never wavered and which ought never to have been questioned by that house and if we meet no more or only as strangers in this world mr. Esmond concluded a sentence against the cruelty and injustice of which I disdain to appeal hereafter she will know who was faithful to her and whether she had any cause to suspect the love and devotion of her kinsman and servant after the sending of this letter the poor young fellow's mind was more at ease than it had been previously the blow had been struck and he had borne it his cruel goddess had shaken her wings and fled and left him alone and friendless but virtue too and he had to bear him up at once the sense of his right and the feeling of his wrongs his honor and his misfortune as I have seen men waking and running to arms at a sudden trumpet before emergency a manly heart leaps up resolute meets the threatening danger with undaunted countenance and whether conquered or conquering faces it always ah no man knows his strength or his weakness till occasion proves them if there be some thoughts and actions of his life from the memory of which a man shrinks with shame sure there are some which he may be proud to own and remember for given injuries conquered temptations now and then and difficulties vanquished by endurance it was these thoughts regarding the living far more than any great poignancy of grief respecting the dead which affected Harry Esmond whilst in prison after his trial but it may be imagined that he could take no comrade of misfortune into the confidence of his feelings and they thought it was remorse and sorrow for his patron's loss which affected the young man in error of which opinion he chose to leave them as a companion he was so moody and silent that the two officers his fellow sufferers left him to himself mostly light little very likely what they knew of him console themselves with dice cards and the bottle and while away their own captivity and their own way it seemed to Esmond as if he lived years in that prison and was changed and aged when he came out of it at certain periods of life we live years of emotion in a few weeks and look back on those times as on great gaps between the old life and the new you do not know how much you suffer in those critical maladies of the heart until the disease is over and you look back on it afterwards during the time the suffering is at least sufferable the day passes in more or less pain and the night wears away somehow it is only in after days that we see what the danger has been as a man out a hunting or riding for his life looks at a leap and wonders how he should have survived the taking of it oh dark months of grief and rage of wrong and cruel endurance he is old now who recalled you long ago he has forgiven and blessed the soft hand that wounded him but the mark is there and the wound is cicaturized only no time tears caresses or repentance can obliterate the scar we are in docile to put up with grief however ruffissimus rates quasus we tempt the ocean again and again and try upon new ventures Esmond thought of his early time as a novitiate and of this past trial as an initiation before entering into life as our young Indians undergo tortures silently before they pass to the rank of warriors in the tribe the officers meanwhile who were not let into the secret of the grief which was gnawing at the side of their silent young friend and being accustomed to such transactions in which one comrade or another was daily paying the forfeit of the sword did not of course bemoan themselves very inconsolably about the fate of their late companion in arms this one told stories of former adventures of love or war or pleasure in which poor Frank Esmond had been engaged the other recollected how a constable had been built or a tavern bully beaten whilst my Lord's poor widow was sitting at his tomb worshiping him as an actual saint and spotless hero so the visitor said who had news of Lady Castlewood and Westbury and McCartney had pretty nearly had all the town to come and see them the dual its fatal termination trial of the two peers and the three commoners concerned had caused the greatest excitement in the town the prints and newsletters were full of them the three gentlemen in Newgate were almost as much crowded as the bishops in the tower or a highwayman before execution we were allowed to live in the governor's house as hath been said both before trial and after condemnation awaiting the king's pleasure nor was the real cause of the fatal quarrel known so closely had my Lord and the two other persons who knew it kept the secret but everyone imagined that the origin of the meeting was a gambling dispute except fresh air the prisoners had upon payment most things they could desire interest was made that they should not mix with the vulgar convicts whose reballed choruses and loud laughter and curses could be heard from their own part of the prison where they and the miserable debtors were confined pal mel end of book two chapter one recording by Ralph Snelson