now sarcastic, there was no single movement of
hers but was beautiful. As he thinks of her, he who writes feels young
again, and remembers a paragon.

So she came holding her dress with one fair rounded arm, and her taper
before her, tripping down the stair to greet Esmond.

"She hath put on her scarlet stockings and white shoes," says my lord,
still laughing. "Oh, my fine mistress! is this the way you set your cap at
the captain!" She approached, shining smiles upon Esmond, who could look
at nothing but her eyes. She advanced holding forward her head, as if she
would have him kiss her as he used to do when she was a child.

"Stop," she said, "I am grown too big! Welcome, cousin Harry," and she
made him an arch curtsy, sweeping down to the ground almost, with the most
gracious bend, looking up the while with the brightest eyes and sweetest
smile. Love seemed to radiate from her. Harry eyed her with such a rapture
as the first lover is described as having by Milton.

"_N'est-ce pas?_" says my lady, in a low, sweet voice, still hanging on
his arm.

Esmond turned round with a start and a blush, as he met his mistress's
clear eyes. He had forgotten her, wrapt in admiration of the _filia
pulcrior_.

"Right foot forward, toe turned out, so: now drop the curtsy, and show the
red stockings, Trix. They've silver clocks, Harry. The dowager sent 'em.
She went to put 'em on," cries my lord.

"Hush, you stupid child!" says miss, smothering her brother with kisses;
and then she must come and kiss her mamma, looking all the while at Harry,
over his mistress's shoulder. And if she did not kiss him, she gave him
both her hands, and then took one of his in both hands, and said, "Oh,
Harry, we're so, _so_ glad you're come!"

"There are woodcocks for supper," says my lord: "huzzay! It was such a
hungry sermon."

"And it is the 29th of December; and our Harry has come home."

"Huzzay, old Pincot!" again says my lord; and my dear lady's lips looked
as if they were trembling with a prayer. She would have Harry lead in
Beatrix to the supper-room, going herself with my young lord viscount; and
to this party came Tom Tusher directly, whom four at least out of the
company of five wished away. Away he went, however, as soon as the
sweetmeats were put down, and then, by the great crackling fire, his
mistress or Beatrix, with her blushing graces, filling his glass for him,
Harry told the story of his campaign, and passed the most delightf