; and said to the Duchess, who told my
lady dowager at Chelsey, who afterwards told Colonel Esmond
--"Tom Esmond's bastard has been to my levee: he has the
hang-dog look of his rogue of a father"--an expression which
my Grandfather never forgave. He was as constant in his
dislikes as in his attachments; and exceedingly partial to
Webb, whose side he took against the more celebrated
general. We have General Webb's portrait now at Castlewood,
Va.

But the matter was taken up by the subordinates; and half the army might
have been by the ears, if the quarrel had not been stopped. General
Cadogan sent an intimation to General Webb to say that he was ready if
Webb liked, and would meet him. This was a kind of invitation our
stout old general was always too ready to accept, and 'twas with great
difficulty we got the General to reply that he had no quarrel with Mr.
Cadogan, who had behaved with perfect gallantry, but only with those at
head-quarters, who had belied him. Mr. Cardonnel offered General Webb
reparation; Mr. Webb said he had a cane at the service of Mr. Cardonnel,
and the only satisfaction he wanted from him was one he was not likely
to get, namely, the truth. The officers in our staff of Webb's, and
those in the immediate suite of the General, were ready to come to
blows; and hence arose the only affair in which Mr. Esmond ever engaged
as principal, and that was from a revengeful wish to wipe off an old
injury.

My Lord Mohun, who had a troop in Lord Macclesfield's regiment of the
Horse Guards, rode this campaign with the Duke. He had sunk by this time
to the very worst reputation; he had had another fatal duel in Spain; he
had married, and forsaken his wife; he was a gambler, a profligate, and
debauchee. He joined just before Oudenarde; and, as Esmond feared, as
soon as Frank Castlewood heard of his arrival, Frank was for seeking him
out, and killing him. The wound my lord got at Oudenarde prevented their
meeting, but that was nearly healed, and Mr. Esmond trembled daily lest
any chance should bring his boy and this known assassin together. They
met at the mess-table of Handyside's regiment at Lille; the officer
commanding not knowing of the feud between the two noblemen.

Esmond had not seen the hateful handsome face of Mohun for nine years,
since they had met on that fatal night in Leicester Field. It was
degraded with crime and passion now; it wore the anxious look o