there glittered a hundred rings.

"To kiss that hand would make many a pretty fellow happy!" cried Mrs.
Tusher: on which my lady crying out, "Go, you foolish Tusher!" and
tapping her with her great fan, Tusher ran forward to seize her hand
and kiss it. Fury arose and barked furiously at Tusher; and Father Holt
looked on at this queer scene, with arch, grave glances.

The awe exhibited by the little boy perhaps pleased the lady to whom
this artless flattery was bestowed: for having gone down on his knee (as
Father Holt had directed him, and the mode then was) and performed his
obeisance, she said, "Page Esmond, my groom of the chamber will inform
you what your duties are, when you wait upon my lord and me; and good
Father Holt will instruct you as becomes a gentleman of our name. You
will pay him obedience in everything, and I pray you may grow to be as
learned and as good as your tutor."

The lady seemed to have the greatest reverence for Mr. Holt, and to be
more afraid of him than of anything else in the world. If she was ever
so angry, a word or look from Father Holt made her calm: indeed he had
a vast power of subjecting those who came near him; and, among the rest,
his new pupil gave himself up with an entire confidence and attachment
to the good Father, and became his willing slave almost from the first
moment he saw him.

He put his small hand into the Father's as he walked away from his first
presentation to his mistress, and asked many questions in his artless
childish way. "Who is that other woman?" he asked. "She is fat and
round; she is more pretty than my Lady Castlewood."

"She is Madame Tusher, the parson's wife of Castlewood. She has a son of
your age, but bigger than you."

"Why does she like so to kiss my lady's hand. It is not good to kiss."

"Tastes are different, little man. Madame Tusher is attached to my lady,
having been her waiting-woman before she was married, in the old lord's
time. She married Doctor Tusher the chaplain. The English household
divines often marry the waiting-women."

"You will not marry the French woman, will you? I saw her laughing with
Blaise in the buttery."

"I belong to a church that is older and better than the English church,"
Mr. Holt said (making a sign whereof Esmond did not then understand the
meaning, across his breast and forehead); "in our church the clergy do
not marry. You will understand these things better soon."

"Was not Saint Peter the head of y