r features of the Viscountess of
Castlewood; whereas, in spite of these fine speeches, Harry thought that
her ladyship's beauty was very much injured by the small-pox. When
the marks of the disease cleared away, they did not, it is true, leave
furrows or scars on her face (except one, perhaps, on her forehead over
her left eyebrow); but the delicacy of her rosy color and complexion was
gone: her eyes had lost their brilliancy, her hair fell, and her face
looked older. It was as if a coarse hand had rubbed off the delicate
tints of that sweet picture, and brought it, as one has seen unskilful
painting-cleaners do, to the dead color. Also, it must be owned, that
for a year or two after the malady, her ladyship's nose was swollen and
redder.

There would be no need to mention these trivialities, but that they
actually influenced many lives, as trifles will in the world, where a
gnat often plays a greater part than an elephant, and a mole-hill, as
we know in King William's case, can upset an empire. When Tusher in his
courtly way (at which Harry Esmond always chafed and spoke scornfully)
vowed and protested that my lady's face was none the worse--the lad
broke out and said, "It IS worse and my mistress is not near so handsome
as she was;" on which poor Lady Castlewood gave a rueful smile, and a
look into a little Venice glass she had, which showed her, I suppose,
that what the stupid boy said was only too true, for she turned away
from the glass, and her eyes filled with tears.

The sight of these in Esmond's heart always created a sort of rage of
pity, and seeing them on the face of the lady whom he loved best, the
young blunderer sank down on his knees, and besought her to pardon him,
saying that he was a fool and an idiot, that he was a brute to make such
a speech, he who had caused her malady; and Doctor Tusher told him that
a bear he was indeed, and a bear he would remain, at which speech poor
young Esmond was so dumbstricken that he did not even growl.

"He is MY bear, and I will not have him baited, Doctor," my lady said,
patting her hand kindly on the boy's head, as he was still kneeling at
her feet. "How your hair has come off! And mine, too," she added with
another sigh.

"It is not for myself that I cared," my lady said to Harry, when the
parson had taken his leave; "but AM I very much changed? Alas! I fear
'tis too true."

"Madam, you have the dearest, and kindest, and sweetest face in the
world, I think,"