"But Saint Peter was married, for we heard only last Sunday that his
wife's mother lay sick of a fever." On which the Father again laughed,
and said he would understand this too better soon, and talked of other
things, and took away Harry Esmond, and showed him the great old house
which he had come to inhabit.
It stood on a rising green hill, with woods behind it, in which were
rooks' nests, where the birds at morning and returning home at evening
made a great cawing. At the foot of a hill was a river, with a steep
ancient bridge crossing it; and beyond that a large pleasant green flat,
where the village of Castlewood stood, with the church in the midst, the
parsonage hard by it, the inn with the blacksmith's forge beside it, and
the sign of the "Three Castles" on the elm. The London road stretched
away towards the rising sun, and to the west were swelling hills and
peaks, behind which many a time Harry Esmond saw the same sun setting in
after years.
The Hall of Castlewood was built with two courts, whereof one only, the
fountain-court, was now inhabited, the other having been battered down in
the Cromwellian wars. In the fountain-court, still in good repair, was
the great hall, near to the kitchen and butteries. A dozen of
living-rooms looked to the north, and communicated with the little chapel
that faced eastwards, and the buildings stretching from that to the main
gate, and with the hall (which looked to the west) into the court, now
dismantled. This court had been the more magnificent of the two until the
Protector's cannon tore down one side of it before the place was taken
and stormed. The besiegers entered at the terrace under the clock-tower,
slaying every man of the garrison, and at their head, my lord's brother,
Francis Esmond.
The Restoration did not bring enough money to the Lord Castlewood to
restore this ruined part of his house, where were the morning parlours,
and above them the long music-gallery. Before this stretched the
garden-terrace, where the flowers grew again which the boots of the
Roundheads had trodden in their assault, and which was restored without
much cost, and only a little care, by both ladies who succeeded the
second viscount in the government of this mansion. Round the
terrace-garden was a low wall with a wicket leading to a wooded height
beyond, that is called Cromwell's Battery to this day.
Young Harry Esmond soon learned the domestic part of his duty, which
was easy enough, from the groom of her ladyship's chamber: serving the
Countess, as the custom commonly was in his boyhood, as page, waiting
at her chair, bringing her scented water and the silver basin after
dinner--sitting on her carriage-step on state occasions, or on public
days introducing her company to her. This was chiefly of the Catholic
gentry, of whom there were a pretty many in the country and
neighbouring city, and who rode not seldom to Castlewood to partake of
the hospitalities there. In the second year of their residence, the
company seemed especially to increase. My lord and my lady were seldom
without visitors.
Also there came in these times to Father Holt many private visitors,
whom, after a little, Henry Esmond had no difficulty in recognising as
priests of the Father's order, whatever their dresses (and they
adopted all sorts) might be. They were closeted with the Father
constantly, and often came and rode away without paying their respects
to my lord and lady.
Father Holt began speedily to be so much occupied with these meetings as
rather to neglect the education of the little lad who so gladly put
himself under the kind priest's orders. At first they read much and
regularly, both in Latin and French; the Father not neglecting in
anything to impress his faith upon his pupil, but not forcing him
violently, and treating him with a delicacy and kindness which surprised
and attached the child, always more easily won by these methods than by
any severe exercise of authority. And his delight in their walks was to
tell Harry of the glories of his order, of the Jesuits, an order founded
by Ignatius Loyola, whose members were intimately associated with
intrigues of church and state. He told Harry of its martyrs and heroes,
of its brethren converting the heathen by myriads, traversing the desert,
facing the stake, ruling the courts and councils, or braving the tortures
of kings; so that Henry Esmond thought that to belong to the Jesuits was
the bravest end of ambition; the greatest career here, and in heaven the
surest reward; and began to long for the day, not only when he should
enter into the one church and receive his first communion, but when he
might join that wonderful brotherhood, which numbered the wisest, the
bravest, the highest born, the most eloquent of men among its members.
Father Holt bade him keep his views secret, and to hide them as a great
treasure which would escape him if it was revealed; and, proud of this
confidence and secret vested in him, the lad became fondly attached to
the master who initiated him into a mystery so wonderful and awful. And
when little Tom Tusher, his neighbour, came from school for his holiday,
and said how he, too; like Harry, was to be bred up for an English
priest, and would get a college scholarship and fellowship from his
school, and then a good living--it tasked young Harry Esmond's powers of
reticence not to say to his young companion, "Church! priesthood! fat
living! My dear Tommy, do you call yours a church and a priesthood? What
is a fat living compared to converting a hundred thousand heathens by a
single sermon? What is a scholarship at Trinity by the side of a crown of
martyrdom, with angels awaiting you as your head is taken off? Could your
master at school sail over the Thames on his gown? Have you statues in
your church that can bleed, speak, walk, and cry? My good Tommy, in dear
Father Holt's church these things take place every day. You know Saint
Philip of the Willows appeared to Lord Castlewood, and caused him to turn
to the one true church. No saints ever come to you." And Harry Esmond,
because of his promise to Father Holt, hiding away these treasures of
faith from T. Tusher, delivered himself of them nevertheless simply to
Father Holt; who stroked his head, smiled at him with his inscrutable
look, and told him that he did well to meditate on these great things,
and not to talk of them except under direction.
Had time enough been given, and his childish inclinations been properly
nurtured, Harry Esmond had been a Jesuit priest ere he was a dozen years
older, and might have finished his days a martyr in China or a victim on
Tower Hill; for, in the few months they spent together at Castlewood, Mr.
Holt obtained an entire mastery over the boy's intellect and affections,
and had brought him to think, as indeed Father Holt thought, with all his
heart too, that no life was so noble, no death so desirable, as that
which many brethren of his famous order were ready to undergo. By love,
by a brightness of wit and good humour that charmed all, by an authority
which he knew how to assume, by a mystery and silence about him which
increased the child's reverence for him, he won Harry's absolute fealty,
and would have kept it, doubtless, if schemes greater and more important
than a poor little boy's admission into orders had not called him away.
After being at home for a few months in tranquillity, my Lord Castlewood
and Lady Isabella left the country for London, taking Father Holt with
them: and his little pupil scarce ever shed more bitter tears in his life
than he did for nights after the first parting with his dear friend, as
he lay in the lonely chamber next to that which the Father used to
occupy. He and a few domestics were left as the only tenants of the great
house: and, though Harry sedulously did all the tasks which the Father
set him, he had many hours unoccupied, and read in the library, and
bewildered his little brain with the great books he found there.
After a while, however, the little lad grew accustomed to the loneliness
of the place; and in after days remembered this part of his life as a
period not unhappy. When the family was at London the whole of the
establishment travelled thither with the exception of the porter and his
wife and children. These had their lodging in the gate-house hard by.
with a door into the court. That with a window looking out on the green
was the Chaplain's room; and next to this was a small chamber where
Father Holt had his books, and Harry Esmond his sleeping-closet. The side
of the house facing the east had escaped the guns of the Cromwellians,
whose battery was on the height facing the western court; so that this
eastern end bore few marks of demolition, save in the chapel, where the
painted windows surviving Edward the Sixth had been broke by the
Commonwealthmen. When Father Holt was at Castlewood little Harry Esmond
acted as his familiar little servitor, beating his clothes, folding his
vestments, fetching his water from the well long before daylight, ready
to run anywhere for the service of his beloved priest. When the Father
was away, he locked his private chamber; but the room where the books
were was left to little Harry.
Great public events were happening at this time, of which the simple
young page took little count. But one day, before the family went to
London, riding into the neighbouring town on the step of my lady's
coach, his lordship and she and Father Holt being inside, a great mob
of people came hooting and jeering round the coach, bawling out, "The
Bishops forever!" "Down with the Pope!" "No Popery! no Popery!" so that
my lord began to laugh, my lady's eyes to roll with anger, for she was
as bold as a lioness, and feared nobody; whilst Mr. Holt, as Esmond saw
from his place on the step, sank back with rather an alarmed face,
crying out to her ladyship, "For God's sake, madam, do not speak or look
out of window; sit still." But she did not obey this prudent injunction
of the Father; she thrust her head out of the coach window, and screamed
out to the coachman, "Flog your way through them, the brutes, James, and
use your whip!"
James the coachman was more afraid of his mistress than of the mob,
probably, for he whipped on his horses as he was bidden, and the post-boy
that rode with the first pair gave a cut of his thong over the shoulders
of one fellow who put his hand out towards the leading horse's rein.
It was a market-day, and the country-people were all assembled with
their baskets of poultry, eggs, and such things; the postilion had no
sooner lashed the man who would have taken hold of his horse, but a
great cabbage came whirling like a bombshell into the carriage, at
which my lord laughed more, for it knocked my lady's fan out of her
hand, and plumped into Father Holt's stomach. Then came a shower of
carrots and potatoes.
The little page was outside the coach on the step, and a fellow in the
crowd aimed a potato at him, and hit him in the eye, at which the poor
little wretch set up a shout The man, a great big saddler's apprentice of
the town, laughed, and stooped to pick up another potato. The crowd had
gathered quite between the horses and the inn door by this time, and the
coach was brought to a dead standstill. My lord jumped as briskly as a
boy out of the door on his side of the coach, squeezing little Harry
behind it; had hold of the potato-thrower's collar in an instant, and the
next moment the brute's heels were in the air, and he fell on the stones
with a thump.
"You hulking coward!" says he, "you pack of screaming blackguards! how
dare you attack children, and insult women? Fling another shot at that
carriage, you sneaking pigskin cobbler, and by the Lord I'll send my
rapier through you!"
Some of the mob cried, "Huzzah, my Lord!" for they knew him, and the
saddler's man was a known bruiser, near twice as big as my Lord Viscount.
"Make way there," says he (he spoke with a great air of authority). "Make
way, and let her ladyship's carriage pass."
The men actually did make way, and the horses went on, my lord walking
after them with his hat on his head.
This mob was one of many thousands that were going about the country at
that time, huzzahing for the acquittal of seven bishops who had been
tried just then, and about whom little Harry Esmond knew scarce anything.
The party from Castlewood were on their way to Hexton, where there was a
great meeting of the gentry. My lord's people had their new liveries on
and Harry a little suit of blue and silver, which he wore upon occasions
of state; and the gentlefolks came round and talked to my lord: and a
judge in a red gown, who seemed a very great personage, especially
complimented him and my lady, who was mighty grand. Harry remembers her
train borne up by her gentlewoman. There was an assembly and ball at the
great room at the inn, and other young gentlemen of the county families
looked on as he did. One of them jeered him for his black eye, which was
swelled by the potato, and another called him a cruel name, on which he
and Harry fell to fisticuffs. My lord's cousin, Colonel Esmond of
Walcote, was there, and separated the two lads--a great, tall gentleman,
with a handsome, good-natured face.
Very soon after this my lord and lady went to London with Mr. Holt,
leaving the page behind them. The little man had the great house of
Castlewood to himself; or between him and the housekeeper, Mrs. Worksop,
an old lady who was a kinswoman of the family in some distant way, and a
Protestant, but a staunch Tory and kings-man, as all the Esmonds were.
Harry used to go to school to Dr. Tusher when he was at home, though the
Doctor was much occupied too. There was a great stir and commotion
everywhere, even in the little quiet village of Castlewood, whither a
party of people came from the town, who would have broken Castlewood
Chapel windows, but the village people turned out, and even old
Sievewright, the republican blacksmith, along with them; for my lady,
though she was a Papist, and had many odd ways, was kind to the tenantry,
and there was always plenty of protectors for Castlewood inmates in any
sort of invasion.
One day at dawn, not having been able to sleep for thinking of some lines
for eels which he had placed the night before, the lad was lying in his
little bed waiting for the hour when he and John Lockwood, the porter's
son, might go to the pond and see what fortune had brought them. It might
have been four o'clock when he heard the door of Father Holt's chamber
open. Harry jumped up, thinking for certain it was a robber, or hoping
perhaps for a ghost, and, flinging open his own door, saw a light inside
Father Holt's room, and a figure standing in the doorway, in the midst of
a great smoke which issued from the room.
"Who's there?" cried out the boy.
"_Silentium!_" whispered the other; "'tis I, my boy!" holding his hand
out, and Harry recognised Father Holt. A curtain was over the window
that looked to the court, and he saw that the smoke came from a great
flame of papers burning in a bowl when he entered the Chaplain's room.
After giving a hasty greeting and blessing to the lad, who was charmed
to see his tutor, the Father continued the burning of his papers,
drawing them from a cupboard over the mantelpiece wall, which Harry had
never seen before.
Father Holt laughed, seeing the lad's attention fixed at once on this
hole. "That is right, Harry," he said; "see all and say nothing. You are
faithful, I know."
"I know I would go to the stake for you," said Harry.
"I don't want your head," said the Father, patting it kindly; "all you
have to do is to hold your tongue. Let us burn these papers, and say
nothing to anybody. Should you like to read them?"
Harry Esmond blushed, and held down his head; he _had_ looked, but
without thinking, at the paper before him; but though he had seen it
before, he could not understand a word of it. They burned the papers
until scarce any traces of them remained.
Harry had been accustomed to seeing Father Holt in more dresses than one;
it not being safe, or worth the danger, for Popish priests to wear their
proper dress; so he was in no wise astonished that the priest should now
appear before him in a riding-dress, with large buff leather boots, and a
feather to his hat, plain, but such as gentlemen wore.
"You know the secret of the cupboard," said he, laughing, "and must be
prepared for other mysteries"; and he opened a wardrobe, which he
usually kept locked, but from which he now took out two or three dresses
and wigs of different colours, and a couple of swords, a military coat
and cloak, and a farmer's smock, and placed them in the large hole over
the mantelpiece from which the papers had been taken.
"If they miss the cupboard," he said, "they will not find these; if they
find them, they'll tell no tales, except that Father Holt wore more
suits of clothes than one. All Jesuits do. You know what deceivers we
are, Harry."
Harry was alarmed at the notion that his friend was about to leave him;
but "No," the priest said, "I may very likely come back with my lord in a
few days. We are to be tolerated; we are not to be persecuted. But they
may take a fancy to pay a visit at Castlewood ere our return; and, as
gentlemen of my cloth are suspected, they might choose to examine my
papers, which concern nobody--at least not them." And to this day,
whether the papers in cipher related to politics, or to the affairs of
that mysterious society whereof Father Holt was a member, his pupil,
Harry Esmond, remains in entire ignorance.
The rest of his goods Father Holt left untouched on his shelves and in
his cupboard, taking down--with a laugh, however--and flinging into the
brazier, where he only half burned them, some theological treatises which
he had been writing. "And now," said he, "Henry, my son, you may testify,
with a safe conscience, that you saw me burning Latin sermons the last
time I was here before I went away to London; and it will be daybreak
directly, and I must be away before Lockwood is stirring."
"Will not Lockwood let you out, sir?" Esmond asked. Holt laughed; he
was never more gay or good-humoured than when in the midst of action
or danger.
"Lockwood knows nothing of my being here, mind you," he said; "nor would
you, you little wretch! had you slept better. You must forget that I have
been here; and now farewell. Close the door, and go to your own room, and
don't come out till--stay, why should you not know one secret more? I
know you will never betray me."
In the Chaplain's room were two windows, the one looking into the court
facing westwards to the fountain, the other a small casement strongly
barred, and looking onto the green in front of the Hall. This window was
too high to reach from the ground; but, mounting on a buffet which stood
beneath it, Father Holt showed Harry how, by pressing on the base of the
window, the whole framework descended into a cavity worked below, from
which it could be restored to its usual place from without, a broken pane
being purposely open to admit the hand which was to work upon the spring
of the machine.
"When I am gone," Father Holt said, "you may push away the buffet, so
that no one may fancy that an exit has been made that way; lock the door;
place the key--where shall we put the key?--under 'Chrysostom' on the
book shelf; and if any ask for it, say I keep it there, and told you
where to find it, if you had need to go to my room. The descent is easy
down the wall into the ditch; and so once more farewell, until I see thee
again, my dear son."
And with this the intrepid Father mounted the buffet with great agility
and briskness, stepped across the window, lifting up the bars and
framework again from the other side, and only leaving room for Harry
Esmond to stand on tiptoe and kiss his hand before the casement closed,
the bars fixing as firmly as ever, seemingly, in the stone arch overhead.
Esmond, young as he was, would have died sooner than betray his friend
and master, as Mr. Holt well knew; so, then, when Holt was gone, and told
Harry not to see him, it was as if he had never been. And he had this
answer pat when he came to be questioned a few days later.
The Prince of Orange was then at Salisbury, as young Esmond learned from
seeing Dr. Tusher in his best cassock, with a great orange cockade in his
broad-leafed hat, and Nahun, his clerk, ornamented with a like
decoration. The Doctor was walking up and down in front of his parsonage
when little Esmond saw him and heard him say he was going to Salisbury to
pay his duty to his Highness the Prince. The village people had orange
cockades too, and his friend, the blacksmith's laughing daughter, pinned
one into Harry's old hat, which he tore out indignantly when they bade
him to cry "God save the Prince of Orange and the Protestant religion!"
But the people only laughed, for they liked the boy in the village, where
his solitary condition moved the general pity, and where he found
friendly welcomes and faces in many houses.
It was while Dr. Tusher was away at Salisbury that there came a troop of
dragoons with orange scarfs, and quartered in Castlewood, and some of
them came up to the Hall, where they took possession, robbing nothing,
however, beyond the hen-house and the beer-cellar: and only insisting
upon going through the house and looking for papers. The first room they
asked to look at was Father Holt's room, where they opened the drawers
and cupboards, and tossed over the papers and clothes, but found nothing
except his books and clothes, and the vestments in a box by themselves,
with which the dragoons made merry, to Harry Esmond's horror. To the
questions which the gentlemen put to Harry, he replied that Father Holt
was a very kind man to him, and a very learned man, and Harry supposed
would tell him none of his secrets if he had any. He was about eleven
years old at that time, and looked as innocent as boys of his age.
A kingdom was changing hands whilst my lord and lady were away. King
James was flying; the Dutchmen were coming; awful stories about them and
the Prince of Orange Mrs. Worksop used to tell to the idle little page,
who enjoyed the exciting narratives. The family were away more than six
months, and when they returned they were in the deepest state of
dejection, for King James had been banished, the Prince of Orange was on
the throne, and the direst persecutions of those of the Catholic faith
were apprehended by my lady, who said that she did not believe there was
a word of truth in the promises of toleration that Dutch monster made, or
a single word the perjured wretch said. My lord and lady being loyal
followers of the banished king, were in a manner prisoners in their own
house, so her ladyship gave the little page to know, who was by this time
growing of an age to understand what was passing about him, and something
of the character of the people he lived with.
Father Holt came to the Hall constantly, but officiated no longer openly
as chaplain. Strangers, military and ecclesiastic--Harry knew the latter,
though they came in all sorts of disguises--were continually arriving and
departing. My lord made long absences and sudden reappearances, using
sometimes the secret window in Father Holt's room, though how often Harry
could not tell. He stoutly kept his promise to the Father of not prying,
and if at midnight from his little room he heard noises of persons
stirring in the next chamber, he turned round to the wall, and hid his
curiosity under his pillow until he fell asleep. Of course, he could not
help remarking that the priest's journeys were constant, and
understanding by a hundred signs that some active though secret business
employed him. What this was may pretty well be guessed by what soon
happened to my lord.
No garrison or watch was put into Castlewood when my lord came back, but
a Guard was in the village; and one or other of them was always on the
green keeping a lookout on the great gate, and those who went out and in.
Lockwood said that at night especially every person who came in or went
out was watched by the outlying sentries. It was lucky that there was a
gate which their Worships knew nothing about. My lord and Father Holt
must have made constant journeys at night: once or twice little Harry
acted as their messenger and discreet aide-de-camp. He remembers he was
bidden to go into the village with his fishing-rod, enter certain houses,
ask for a drink of water, and tell the good man, "There would be a
horse-market at Newbury next Thursday," and so carry the same message on
to the next house on his list.
He did not know what the message meant at the time, nor what was
happening, which may as well, however, for clearness' sake, be explained
here. The Prince of Orange being gone to Ireland, where the King was
ready to meet him with a great army, it was determined that a great
rising of his Majesty's party should take place in this country; and my
lord was to head the force in the Castlewood's county. Of late he had
taken a greater lead in affairs than before, having the indefatigable Mr.
Holt at his elbow, who was the most considerable person in that part of
the county for the affairs of the King.
It was arranged that the regiment of Scots Greys and Dragoons, then
quartered at Newbury, should declare for the King on a certain day, when
likewise the gentry loyal to his Majesty's cause were to come in with
their tenants and adherents to Newbury, march upon the Dutch troops at
Reading under Ginckel; and, those overthrown, and their indomitable
little master away in Ireland, it was thought that their side might move
on London itself, and a confident victory was predicted for the King.
While these great matters were in agitation, one day, it must have been
about the month of July, 1600, my lord, in a great horseman's coat, under
which Harry could see the shining of a steel breastplate he had on,
called the boy to him, and kissed him, and bade God bless him in such an
affectionate way as he never had used before. Father Holt blessed him
too, and then they took leave of my Lady Viscountess, who came weeping
from her apartment.
"My lord, God speed you!" she said, stepping up and embracing my lord in
a grand manner. "Mr. Holt, I ask your blessing," and she knelt down for
that, whilst Mrs. Tusher tossed her head up.
Mr. Holt gave the same benediction to the little page, who went down and
held my lord's stirrups for him to mount--there were two servants waiting
there, too--and they rode out of Castlewood gate.
As they crossed the bridge, Harry could see an officer in scarlet ride up
touching his hat, and address my lord.
The party stopped, and came to some discussion, which presently ended, my
lord putting his horse into a canter after taking off his hat to the
officer, who rode alongside him step for step, the trooper accompanying
him falling back, and riding with my lord's two men. They cantered over
the green, and behind the elms, and so they disappeared.
That evening those left behind had a great panic, the cow-boy coming at
milking-time riding one of the Castlewood horses, which he had found
grazing at the outer park-wall. It was quite in the grey of the morning
when the porter's bell rang, and old Lockwood let him in. He had gone
with him in the morning, and returned with a melancholy story. The
officer who rode up to my lord had, it appeared, said to him that it was
his duty to inform his lordship that he was not under arrest, but under
watch, and to request him not to ride abroad that day.
My lord replied that riding was good for his health, that if the Captain
chose to accompany him he was welcome; and it was then that he made a
bow, and they cantered away together.
When he came on to Wansey Down, my lord all of a sudden pulled up, and
the party came to a halt at the cross-way.
"Sir," says he to the officer, "we are four to two; will you be so kind
as to take that road, and leave me go mine?"
"Your road is mine, my lord," says the officer.
"Then--" says my lord; but he had no time to say more, for the officer,
drawing a pistol, snapped it at his lordship; and at the same moment
Father Holt, drawing a pistol, shot the officer through the head. It was
done, and the man dead in an instant of time. The orderly, gazing at the
officer, looked scared for a moment, and galloped away for his life.
"Fire! Fire!" cries out Father Holt, sending another shot after the
trooper, but the two servants were too much surprised to use their
pieces, and my lord calling to them to hold their hands, the fellow got
away. My lord's party rode on; shortly after midday heard firing, then
met a horseman who told them that the regiments declared an hour too
soon. General Ginckel was down upon them, and the whole thing was at an
end. "We've shot an officer on duty, and let his orderly escape," says
my lord. "Blaise," says Mr. Holt, writing two lines on his table-book,
one for my lady and one for Harry, "you must go back to Castlewood and
deliver these," and Blaise went back and gave Harry the two papers. He
read that to himself, which only said, "Burn the papers in the cupboard;
burn this. You know nothing about anything." Harry read this, ran
upstairs to his mistress's apartment, where her gentlewoman slept near to
the door, made her bring a light and wake my lady, into whose hands he
gave the other paper.
As soon as she had the paper in her hand, Harry stepped back to the
Chaplain's room, opened the secret cupboard over the fireplace, burned
all the papers in it, and, as he had seen the priest do before, took down
one of his reverence's manuscript sermons, and half burnt that in the
brazier. By the time the papers were quite destroyed it was daylight.
Harry ran back to his mistress again. Her gentlewoman ushered him again
into her ladyship's chamber; she told him to bid the coach be got ready,
and that she would ride away anon.
But the mysteries of her ladyship's toilet were as awfully long on this
day as on any other, and, long after the coach was ready, my lady was
still attiring herself. And just as the Viscountess stepped forth from
her room, ready for her departure, young John Lockwood came running up
from the village with news that a lawyer, three officers, and twenty or
four-and-twenty soldiers were marching thence upon the house. John had
but two minutes the start of them, and, ere he had well told his story,
the troop rode into the court-yard.
Her gentlewoman, Victoire, persuaded her that her prudent course was, as
she could not fly, to receive the troops as though she suspected nothing,
and that her chamber was the best place wherein to await them. So her
black Japan casket, which Harry was to carry to the coach, was taken back
to her ladyship's chamber, whither the maid and mistress retired.
Victoire came out presently, bidding the page to say her ladyship was
ill, confined to her bed with the rheumatism.
By this time the soldiers had reached Castlewood, and, preceded by their
commander and a lawyer, were conducted to the stair leading up to the
part of the house which my lord and lady inhabited. The Captain and the
lawyer came through the ante-room to the tapestry parlour, where now was
nobody but young Harry Esmond, the page.
"Tell your mistress, little man," says the Captain kindly, "that we must
speak to her."
"My mistress is ill a-bed," said the page.
"What complaint has she?" asked the Captain.