o 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.

The boy said, "The rheumatism!"

"Rheumatism! that's a bad complaint," continues the good-natured Captain;
"and the coach is in the yard to fetch the doctor, I suppose?"

"I don't know," says the boy.

"And how long has her ladyship been ill?"

"I don't know," says the boy.

"When did my lord go away?"

"Yesterday night."

"With Father Holt?"

"W