b so frank and comical, that the other dashing
his fist across his forehead was caught by that infectious good humour,
and said with his oath, "---- it, Harry, I believe thee," and so this
quarrel was over, and the two gentlemen, at swords drawn but just now,
dropped their points, and shook hands.

_Beati pacifici._ "Go, bring my lady back," said Harry's patron. Esmond
went away only too glad to be the bearer of such good news. He found her
at the door; she had been listening there, but went back as he came. She
took both his hands, hers were marble cold. She seemed as if she would
fall on his shoulder. "Thank you, and God bless you, my dear brother
Harry," she said. She kissed his hand, Esmond felt her tears upon it: and
leading her into the room, and up to my lord, the Lord Castlewood with an
outbreak of feeling and affection, such as he had not exhibited for many a
long day, took his wife to his heart, and bent over and kissed her and
asked her pardon.

"'Tis time for me to go to roost. I will have my gruel abed," said my Lord
Mohun: and limped off comically on Harry Esmond's arm. "By George, that
woman is a pearl!" he said; "and 'tis only a pig that wouldn't value her.
Have you seen the vulgar trapesing orange-girl whom Esmond"--but here Mr.
Esmond interrupted him, saying, that these were not affairs for him to
know.

My lord's gentleman came in to wait upon his master, who was no sooner in
his nightcap and dressing-gown than he had another visitor whom his host
insisted on sending to him: and this was no other than the Lady Castlewood
herself with the toast and gruel, which her husband bade her make and
carry with her own hands in to her guest.

Lord Castlewood stood looking after his wife as she went on this errand,
and as he looked, Harry Esmond could not but gaze on him, and remarked in
his patron's face an expression of love, and grief, and care, which very
much moved and touched the young man. Lord Castlewood's hands fell down at
his sides, and his head on his breast, and presently he said--

"You heard what Mohun said, parson?"

"That my lady was a saint?"

"That there are two accounts to settle. I have been going wrong these five
years, Harry Esmond. Ever since you brought that damned small-pox into the
house, there has been a fate pursuing me, and I had best have died of it,
and not run away from it like a coward. I left Beatrix with her relations,
and went to London; and I fell among thieves, Harry,