I may have had it as an infant."

"I won't run the risk," said my Lord. "I'm as bold as any man, but I'll
not bear that."

"Take Beatrix with you and go," said my Lady. "For us the mischief is
done."

My Lord, calling away Doctor Tusher, bade him come in the oak parlor and
have a pipe.

When the lady and the boy were alone, there was a silence of some
moments, during which he stood looking at the fire whilst her Ladyship
busied herself with the [v]tambour frame and needles.

"I am sorry," she said, after a pause, in a hard, dry voice--"I repeat I
am sorry that I said what I said. It was not at all my wish that you
should leave us, I am sure, unless you found pleasure elsewhere. But you
must see that, at your age, and with your tastes, it is impossible that
you can continue to stay upon the intimate footing in which you have
been in this family. You have wished to go to college, and I think 'tis
quite as well that you should be sent thither. I did not press the
matter, thinking you a child, as you are indeed in years--quite a child.
But now I shall beg my Lord to despatch you as quick as possible; and
will go on with Frank's learning as well as I can. And--and I wish you a
good night, Harry."

With this she dropped a stately curtsy, and, taking her candle, went
away through the tapestry door, which led to her apartments. Esmond
stood by the fireplace, blankly staring after her. Indeed, he scarce
seemed to see until she was gone, and then her image was impressed upon
him and remained forever fixed upon his memory. He saw her retreating,
the taper lighting up her marble face, her scarlet lip quivering, and
her shining golden hair. He went to his own room and to bed, but could
not get to sleep until daylight, and woke with a violent headache.

He had brought the contagion with him from the alehouse, sure enough,
and was presently laid up with the smallpox, which spared the hall no
more than it did the cottage.

When Harry Esmond had passed through the [v]crisis of the [v]malady and
returned to health again, he found that little Frank Esmond had also
suffered and rallied from the disease, and that his mother was down
with it. Nor could young Esmond agree in Doctor Tusher's [v]vehement
protestations to my Lady, when he visited her during her
[v]convalescence, that the malady had not in the least impaired her
charms; whereas, in spite of these fine speeches, Harry thought that her
Ladyship's beauty was very much inju