esus, which numbers (says he) in
its troops the greatest heroes the world ever knew;--warriors, brave enough
to dare or endure anything, to encounter any odds, to die any
death;--soldiers that have won triumphs a thousand times more brilliant
than those of the greatest general; that have brought nations on their
knees to their sacred banner, the Cross; that have achieved glories and
palms incomparably brighter than those awarded to the most splendid
earthly conquerors--crowns of immortal light, and seats in the high places
of Heaven.

Esmond was thankful for his old friend's good opinion, however little he
might share the Jesuit father's enthusiasm. "I have thought of that
question, too," says he, "dear father," and he took the other's
hand--"thought it out for myself, as all men must, and contrive to do the
right, and trust to Heaven as devoutly in my way as you in yours. Another
six months of you as a child, and I had desired no better. I used to weep
upon my pillow at Castlewood as I thought of you, and I might have been a
brother of your order; and who knows," Esmond added, with a smile, "a
priest in full orders, and with a pair of moustachios, and a Bavarian
uniform."

"My son," says Father Holt, turning red, "in the cause of religion and
loyalty all disguises are fair."

"Yes," broke in Esmond, "all disguises are fair, you say; and all
uniforms, say I, black or red,--a black cockade or a white one--or a laced
hat, or a sombrero, with a tonsure under it. I cannot believe that St.
Francis Xavier sailed over the sea in a cloak, or raised the dead--I tried;
and very nearly did once, but cannot. Suffer me to do the right, and to
hope for the best in my own way."

Esmond wished to cut short the good father's theology, and succeeded; and
the other, sighing over his pupil's invincible ignorance, did not withdraw
his affection from him, but gave him his utmost confidence--as much, that
is to say, as a priest can give: more than most do; for he was naturally
garrulous, and too eager to speak.

Holt's friendship encouraged Captain Esmond to ask, what he long wished to
know, and none could tell him, some history of the poor mother whom he had
often imagined in his dreams, and whom he never knew. He described to Holt
those circumstances which are already put down in the first part of this
story--the promise he had made to his dear lord, and that dying friend's
confession; and he besought Mr. Holt to tell him what he knew