smile, or a
parting word of consolation. But her enthusiasm of the morning was quite
died out, or she chose to be in a different mood. She fell to joking
about the dowdy appearance of Lady Betty, and mimicked the vulgarity
of Mrs. Steele; and then she put up her little hand to her mouth and
yawned, lighted a taper, and shrugged her shoulders, and dropping Mr.
Esmond a saucy curtsy, sailed off to bed.

"The day began so well, Henry, that I hoped it might have ended better,"
was all the consolation that poor Esmond's fond mistress could give him;
and as he trudged home through the dark alone, he thought with bitter
rage in his heart, and a feeling of almost revolt against the sacrifice
he had made:--"She would have me," thought he, "had I but a name to
give her. But for my promise to her father, I might have my rank and my
mistress too."

I suppose a man's vanity is stronger than any other passion in him; for
I blush, even now, as I recall the humiliation of those distant days,
the memory of which still smarts, though the fever of balked desire
has passed away more than a score of years ago. When the writer's
descendants come to read this memoir, I wonder will they have lived to
experience a similar defeat and shame? Will they ever have knelt to a
woman who has listened to them, and played with them, and laughed with
them--who beckoning them with lures and caresses, and with Yes smiling
from her eyes, has tricked them on to their knees, and turned her
back and left them. All this shame Mr. Esmond had to undergo; and he
submitted, and revolted, and presently came crouching back for more.

After this feste, my young Lord Ashburnham's coach was for ever rolling
in and out of Kensington Square; his lady-mother came to visit Esmond's
mistress, and at every assembly in the town, wherever the Maid of Honor
made her appearance, you might be pretty sure to see the young gentleman
in a new suit every week, and decked out in all the finery that his
tailor or embroiderer could furnish for him. My lord was for ever paying
Mr. Esmond compliments: bidding him to dinner, offering him horses to
ride, and giving him a thousand uncouth marks of respect and
good-will. At last, one night at the coffee-house, whither my lord came
considerably flushed and excited with drink, he rushes up to Mr. Esmond,
and cries out--"Give me joy, my dearest Colonel; I am the happiest of
men."

"The happiest of men needs no dearest colonel to give him joy,"