him (he may say
so, now that he hath long since outlived it) because it pleased his
mistress, and, above all, because Beatrix valued it.

As for the old dowager of Chelsea, never was an old woman in all England
more delighted nor more gracious than she. Esmond had his quarters in her
ladyship's house, where the domestics were instructed to consider him as
their master. She bade him give entertainments, of which she defrayed the
charges, and was charmed when his guests were carried away tipsy in their
coaches. She must have his picture taken; and accordingly he was painted
by Mr. Jervas, in his red coat, and smiling upon a bombshell, which was
bursting at the corner of the piece. She vowed that unless he made a great
match, she should never die easy, and was for ever bringing young ladies
to Chelsea, with pretty faces and pretty fortunes, at the disposal of the
colonel. He smiled to think how times were altered with him, and of the
early days in his father's lifetime, when a trembling page he stood before
her, with her ladyship's basin and ewer, or crouched in her coach-step.
The only fault she found with him was, that he was more sober than an
Esmond ought to be; and would neither be carried to bed by his valet, nor
lose his heart to any beauty, whether of St. James's or Covent Garden.

What is the meaning of fidelity in love, and whence the birth of it? 'Tis
a state of mind that men fall into, and depending on the man rather than
the woman. We love being in love, that's the truth on't. If we had not met
Joan, we should have met Kate, and adored her. We know our mistresses are
no better than many other women, nor no prettier, nor no wiser, nor no
wittier. 'Tis not for these reasons we love a woman, or for any special
quality or charm I know of; we might as well demand that a lady should be
the tallest woman in the world, like the Shropshire giantess,(12) as that
she should be a paragon in any other character, before we began to love
her. Esmond's mistress had a thousand faults beside her charms: he knew
both perfectly well! She was imperious, she was light-minded, she was
flighty, she was false, she had no reverence in her character; she was in
everything, even in beauty, the contrast of her mother, who was the most
devoted and the least selfish of women. Well, from the very first moment
he saw her on the stairs at Walcote, Esmond knew he loved Beatrix. There
might be better women--he wanted that one. He cared for none