her voice thrill in his ear so? She
could not sing near so well as Nicolini or Mrs. Tofts; nay, she sang out
of tune, and yet he liked to hear her better than St. Cecilia. She had
not a finer complexion than Mrs. Steele, (Dick's wife, whom he had now
got, and who ruled poor Dick with a rod of pickle,) and yet to see her
dazzled Esmond; he would shut his eyes, and the thought of her dazzled
him all the same. She was brilliant and lively in talk, but not so
incomparably witty as her mother, who, when she was cheerful, said the
finest things; but yet to hear her, and to be with her, was Esmond's
greatest pleasure. Days passed away between him and these ladies, he
scarce knew how. He poured his heart out to them, so as he never could
in any other company, where he hath generally passed for being moody, or
supercilious and silent. This society** was more delightful than that
of the greatest wits to him. May heaven pardon him the lies he told
the Dowager at Chelsey, in order to get a pretext for going away
to Kensington: the business at the Ordnance which he invented; the
interview with his General, the courts and statesmen's levees which
he DIDN'T frequent and describe; who wore a new suit on Sunday at St.
James's or at the Queen's birthday; how many coaches filled the street
at Mr. Harley's levee; how many bottles he had had the honor to drink
over-night with Mr. St. John at the "Cocoa-Tree," or at the "Garter"
with Mr. Walpole and Mr. Steele.

* 'Tis not thus WOMAN LOVES: Col. E. hath owned to this
folly for a SCORE OF WOMEN besides.--R.

** And, indeed, so was his to them, a thousand thousand
times more charming, for where was his equal?--R.

Mistress Beatrix Esmond had been a dozen times on the point of making
great matches, so the Court scandal said; but for his part Esmond never
would believe the stories against her; and came back, after three years'
absence from her, not so frantic as he had been perhaps, but still
hungering after her and no other; still hopeful, still kneeling, with
his heart in his hand for the young lady to take. We were now got to
1709. She was near twenty-two years old, and three years at Court, and
without a husband.

"'Tis not for want of being asked," Lady Castlewood said, looking into
Esmond's heart, as she could, with that perceptiveness affection gives.
"But she will make no mean match, Harry: she will not marry as I would
have her; the person whom I should like to c