greed with her), yet, on
the very first sight of young Castlewood, she owned she fell in love
with him: and Henry Esmond, on his return to Chelsey, found himself
quite superseded in her favor by her younger kinsman. The feat of
drinking the King's health at Cambridge would have won her heart, she
said, if nothing else did. "How had the dear young fellow got such
beauty?" she asked. "Not from his father--certainly not from his mother.
How had he come by such noble manners, and the perfect bel air? That
countrified Walcote widow could never have taught him." Esmond had his
own opinion about the countrified Walcote widow, who had a quiet grace
and serene kindness, that had always seemed to him the perfection of
good breeding, though he did not try to argue this point with his aunt.
But he could agree in most of the praises which the enraptured old
dowager bestowed on my Lord Viscount, than whom he never beheld a more
fascinating and charming gentleman. Castlewood had not wit so much as
enjoyment. "The lad looks good things," Mr. Steele used to say; "and
his laugh lights up a conversation as much as ten repartees from
Mr. Congreve. I would as soon sit over a bottle with him as with Mr.
Addison; and rather listen to his talk than hear Nicolini. Was ever
man so gracefully drunk as my Lord Castlewood? I would give anything to
carry my wine" (though, indeed, Dick bore his very kindly, and plenty
of it, too), "like this incomparable young man. When he is sober he is
delightful; and when tipsy, perfectly irresistible." And referring to
his favorite, Shakspeare (who was quite out of fashion until Steele
brought him back into the mode), Dick compared Lord Castlewood to Prince
Hal, and was pleased to dub Esmond as ancient Pistol.

The Mistress of the Robes, the greatest lady in England after the Queen,
or even before her Majesty, as the world said, though she never could be
got to say a civil word to Beatrix, whom she had promoted to her place
as maid of honor, took her brother into instant favor. When young
Castlewood, in his new uniform, and looking like a prince out of a fairy
tale, went to pay his duty to her Grace, she looked at him for a minute
in silence, the young man blushing and in confusion before her, then
fairly burst out a-crying, and kissed him before her daughters and
company. "He was my boy's friend," she said, through her sobs. "My
Blandford might have been like him." And everybody saw, after this mark
of the Duche