and privates were all
taken into Dick's confidence, and had the benefit of his verses. And it
must be owned likewise that, while Dick was sighing after Saccharissa in
London, he had consolations in the country; for there came a wench out of
Castlewood village who had washed his linen, and who cried sadly when she
heard he was gone: and without paying her bill too, which Harry Esmond
took upon himself to discharge by giving the girl a silver pocket-piece,
which Scholar Dick had presented to him, when, with many embraces and
prayers for his prosperity, Dick parted from him, the garrison of
Castlewood being ordered away. Dick the Scholar said he would never forget
his young friend, nor indeed did he: and Harry was sorry when the kind
soldiers vacated Castlewood, looking forward with no small anxiety (for
care and solitude had made him thoughtful beyond his years) to his fate
when the new lord and lady of the house came to live there. He had lived
to be past twelve years old now; and had never had a friend, save this
wild trooper perhaps, and Father Holt; and had a fond and affectionate
heart, tender to weakness, that would fain attach itself to somebody, and
did not seem at rest until it had found a friend who would take charge of
it.

The instinct which led Henry Esmond to admire and love the gracious
person, the fair apparition of whose beauty and kindness had so moved him
when he first beheld her, became soon a devoted affection and passion of
gratitude, which entirely filled his young heart, that as yet, except in
the case of dear Father Holt, had had very little kindness for which to be
thankful. _O Dea certe_, thought he, remembering the lines out of the
_Aeneis_ which Mr. Holt had taught him. There seemed, as the boy thought,
in every look or gesture of this fair creature, an angelical softness and
bright pity--in motion or repose she seemed gracious alike; the tone of her
voice, though she uttered words ever so trivial, gave him a pleasure that
amounted almost to anguish. It cannot be called love, that a lad of twelve
years of age, little more than a menial, felt for an exalted lady, his
mistress: but it was worship. To catch her glance, to divine her errand
and run on it before she had spoken it; to watch, to follow, adore her;
became the business of his life. Meanwhile, as is the way often, his idol
had idols of her own, and never thought of or suspected the admiration of
her little pigmy adorer.

My lady had o