ent over to St. Germains by the
Jacobite agents about London, had done an incalculable mischief to his
cause, and wofully misguided him, and it was from these especially, that
the persons engaged in the present venture were anxious to defend the
chief actor in it.*

* The managers were the Bishop, who cannot be hurt by having
his name mentioned, a very active and loyal Nonconformist
Divine, a lady in the highest favor at Court, with whom
Beatrix Esmond had communication, and two noblemen of the
greatest rank, and a member of the House of Commons, who was
implicated in more transactions than one in behalf of the
Stuart family.

The party reached London by nightfall, leaving their horses at the
Posting-House over against Westminster, and being ferried over the
water, where Lady Esmond's coach was already in waiting. In another hour
we were all landed at Kensington, and the mistress of the house had that
satisfaction which her heart had yearned after for many years, once more
to embrace her son, who, on his side, with all his waywardness, ever
retained a most tender affection for his parent.

She did not refrain from this expression of her feeling, though the
domestics were by, and my Lord Castlewood's attendant stood in the hall.
Esmond had to whisper to him in French to take his hat off. Monsieur
Baptiste was constantly neglecting his part with an inconceivable
levity: more than once on the ride to London, little observations of the
stranger, light remarks, and words betokening the greatest ignorance of
the country the Prince came to govern, had hurt the susceptibility of
the two gentlemen forming his escort; nor could either help owning in
his secret mind that they would have had his behavior otherwise,
and that the laughter and the lightness, not to say license, which
characterized his talk, scarce befitted such a great Prince, and such a
solemn occasion. Not but that he could act at proper times with spirit
and dignity. He had behaved, as we all knew, in a very courageous manner
on the field. Esmond had seen a copy of the letter the Prince had writ
with his own hand when urged by his friends in England to abjure his
religion, and admired that manly and magnanimous reply by which he
refused to yield to the temptation. Monsieur Baptiste took off his
hat, blushing at the hint Colonel Esmond ventured to give him, and
said:--"Tenez, elle est jolie, la petite mere. Foi de Chevalier! ell