med to pay it; but now that her eldest
son was arrived in the colony, my mother opined that we must certainly
wait upon his Excellency the Governor, nor were we sorry, perhaps,
to get away from our little Richmond to enjoy the gaieties of the
provincial capital. Madam engaged, and at a great price, the best house
to be had at Richmond for herself and her family. Now I was rich, her
generosity was curious. I had more than once to interpose (her old
servants likewise wondering at her new way of life), and beg her not to
be so lavish. But she gently said, in former days she had occasion to
save, which now existed no more. Harry had enough, sure, with such a
wife as he had taken out of the housekeeper's room. If she chose to be a
little extravagant now, why should she hesitate? She had not her dearest
daughter and grandchildren with her every day (she fell in love with all
three of them, and spoiled them as much as they were capable of being
spoiled). Besides, in former days I could not accuse her of too much
extravagance, and this I think was almost the only allusion she made to
the pecuniary differences between us. So she had her people dressed in
their best, and her best wines, plate, and furniture from Castlewood by
sea at no small charge, and her dress in which she had been married in
George II.'s reign, and we all flattered ourselves that our coach made
the greatest figure of any except his Excellency's, and we engaged
Signor Formicalo, his Excellency's major-domo, to superintend the series
of feasts that were given in my honour; and more fleshpots were set
a-stewing in our kitchens in one month, our servants said, than had been
known in the family since the young gentlemen went away. So great was
Theo's influence over my mother, that she actually persuaded her, that
year, to receive our sister Fanny, Hal's wife, who would have stayed
upon the plantation rather than face Madam Esmond. But, trusting to
Theo's promise of amnesty, Fanny (to whose house we had paid more than
one visit) came up to town, and made her curtsey to Madam Esmond, and
was forgiven. And rather than be forgiven in that way, I own, for my
part, that I would prefer perdition or utter persecution.

"You know these, my dear?" says Madam Esmond, pointing to her fine
silver sconces. "Fanny hath often cleaned them when she was with me
at Castlewood. And this dress, too, Fanny knows, I dare say? Her poor
mother had the care of it. I always had the greatest