the horses for Mr. Atterbury, and ride with him, and
send Esmond's own valise to the Gatehouse prison, whither he resolved to
go and give himself up.

Book II. Contains Mr. Esmond's Military Life, And Other Matters
Appertaining To The Esmond Family

Chapter I. I Am In Prison, And Visited, But Not Consoled There

Those may imagine, who have seen death untimely strike down persons
revered and beloved, and know how unavailing consolation is, what was
Harry Esmond's anguish after being an actor in that ghastly midnight scene
of blood and homicide. He could not, he felt, have faced his dear
mistress, and told her that story. He was thankful that kind Atterbury
consented to break the sad news to her; but, besides his grief, which he
took into prison with him, he had that in his heart which secretly cheered
and consoled him.

A great secret had been told to Esmond by his unhappy stricken kinsman,
lying on his death-bed. Were he to disclose it, as in equity and honour he
might do, the discovery would but bring greater grief upon those whom he
loved best in the world, and who were sad enough already. Should he bring
down shame and perplexity upon all those beings to whom he was attached by
so many tender ties of affection and gratitude? degrade his father's
widow? impeach and sully his father's and kinsman's honour? and for what?
for a barren title, to be worn at the expense of an innocent boy, the son
of his dearest benefactress. He had debated this matter in his conscience,
whilst his poor lord was making his dying confession. On one side were
ambition, temptation, justice even; but love, gratitude, and fidelity,
pleaded on the other. And when the struggle was over in Harry's mind, a
glow of righteous happiness filled it; and it was with grateful tears in
his eyes that he returned thanks to God for that decision which he had
been enabled to make.

"When I was denied by my own blood," thought he; "these dearest friends
received and cherished me. When I was a nameless orphan myself, and needed
a protector, I found one in yonder kind soul, who has gone to his account
repenting of the innocent wrong he has done."

And with this consoling thought he went away to give himself up at the
prison, after kissing the cold lips of his benefactor.

It was on the third day after he had come to the Gatehouse prison (where
he lay in no small pain from his wound, which inflamed and ached
severely); and with those thoughts and