not without
a kind of awe and reverence that an observer should speculate upon such
careers as he traces the course of them. I have seen too much of success
in life to take off my hat and huzzah to it as it passes in its gilt
coach: and would do my little part with my neighbors on foot, that they
should not gape with too much wonder, nor applaud too loudly. Is it the
Lord Mayor going in state to mince-pies and the Mansion House? Is it
poor Jack of Newgate's procession, with the sheriff and javelin-men,
conducting him on his last journey to Tyburn? I look into my heart
and think that I sin as good as my Lord Mayor, and know I am as bad as
Tyburn Jack. Give me a chain and red gown and a pudding before me, and
I could play the part of Alderman very well, and sentence Jack after
dinner. Starve me, keep me from books and honest people, educate me to
love dice, gin, and pleasure, and put me on Hounslow Heath, with a purse
before me, and I will take it. "And I shall be deservedly hanged," say
you, wishing to put an end to this prosing. I don't say No. I can't but
accept the world as I find it, including a rope's end, as long as it is
in fashion.

CHAPTER I.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY OF ESMOND OF CASTLEWOOD HALL.

When Francis, fourth Viscount Castlewood, came to his title, and
presently after to take possession of his house of Castlewood, county
Hants, in the year 1691, almost the only tenant of the place besides
the domestics was a lad of twelve years of age, of whom no one seemed to
take any note until my Lady Viscountess lighted upon him, going over the
house with the housekeeper on the day of her arrival. The boy was in the
room known as the Book-room, or Yellow Gallery, where the portraits of
the family used to hang, that fine piece among others of Sir Antonio Van
Dyck of George, second Viscount, and that by Mr. Dobson of my lord the
third Viscount, just deceased, which it seems his lady and widow did not
think fit to carry away, when she sent for and carried off to her house
at Chelsey, near to London, the picture of herself by Sir Peter Lely, in
which her ladyship was represented as a huntress of Diana's court.

The new and fair lady of Castlewood found the sad, lonely, little
occupant of this gallery busy over his great book, which he laid down
when he was aware that a stranger was at hand. And, knowing who that
person must be, the lad stood up and bowed before her, performing a shy
obeisance to the mistre