d on both cheeks, imparting a strong
perfume of burnt sack along with his caress to the young man.

"What! is this the little man that used to talk Latin and fetch our
bowls? How tall thou art grown! I protest I should have known thee
anywhere. And so you have turned ruffian and fighter; and wanted to
measure swords with Mohun, did you? I protest that Mohun said at the
Guard dinner yesterday, where there was a pretty company of us, that the
young fellow wanted to fight him, and was the better man of the two."

"I wish we could have tried and proved it, Mr. Steele," says Esmond,
thinking of his dead benefactor, and his eyes filling with tears.

With the exception of that one cruel letter which he had from his
mistress, Mr. Esmond heard nothing from her, and she seemed determined
to execute her resolve of parting from him and disowning him. But he had
news of her, such as it was, which Mr. Steele assiduously brought him
from the Prince's and Princess's Court, where our honest Captain had
been advanced to the post of gentleman waiter. When off duty there,
Captain Dick often came to console his friends in captivity; a good
nature and a friendly disposition towards all who were in ill-fortune
no doubt prompting him to make his visits, and good-fellowship and good
wine to prolong them.

"Faith," says Westbury, "the little scholar was the first to begin the
quarrel--I mind me of it now--at Lockit's. I always hated that fellow
Mohun. What was the real cause, of the quarrel betwixt him and poor
Frank? I would wager 'twas a woman."

"'Twas a quarrel about play--on my word, about play," Harry said. "My
poor lord lost great sums to his guest at Castlewood. Angry words passed
between them; and, though Lord Castlewood was the kindest and most
pliable soul alive, his spirit was very high; and hence that meeting
which has brought us all here," says Mr. Esmond, resolved never to
acknowledge that there had ever been any other cause but cards for the
duel.

"I do not like to use bad words of a nobleman," says Westbury; "but
if my Lord Mohun were a commoner, I would say, 'twas a pity he was not
hanged. He was familiar with dice and women at a time other boys are at
school being birched; he was as wicked as the oldest rake, years ere he
had done growing; and handled a sword and a foil, and a bloody one, too,
before he ever used a razor. He held poor Will Mountford in talk that
night, when bloody Dick Hill ran him through. He will come