ed to say in the army the
Duke of Marlborough was a spy too, and as much in correspondence with that
family as any Jesuit. And without entering very eagerly into the
controversy, Esmond had frankly taken the side of his family. It seemed to
him that King James the Third was undoubtedly King of England by right:
and at his sister's death it would be better to have him than a foreigner
over us. No man admired King William more; a hero and a conqueror, the
bravest, justest, wisest of men--but 'twas by the sword he conquered the
country, and held and governed it by the very same right that the great
Cromwell held it, who was truly and greatly a sovereign. But that a
foreign despotic prince, out of Germany, who happened to be descended from
King James the First, should take possession of this empire, seemed to Mr.
Esmond a monstrous injustice--at least, every Englishman had a right to
protest, and the English prince, the heir-at-law, the first of all. What
man of spirit with such a cause would not back it? What man of honour with
such a crown to win would not fight for it? But that race was destined.
That prince had himself against him, an enemy he could not overcome. He
never dared to draw his sword, though he had it. He let his chances slip
by as he lay in the lap of opera-girls, or snivelled at the knees of
priests asking pardon; and the blood of heroes, and the devotedness of
honest hearts, and endurance, courage, fidelity, were all spent for him in
vain.

But let us return to my lady of Chelsea, who, when her son Esmond
announced to her ladyship that he proposed to make the ensuing campaign,
took leave of him with perfect alacrity, and was down to piquet with her
gentlewoman before he had well quitted the room on his last visit. "Tierce
to a king," were the last words he ever heard her say: the game of life
was pretty nearly over for the good lady, and three months afterwards she
took to her bed, where she flickered out without any pain, so the Abbe
Gauthier wrote over to Mr. Esmond, then with his general on the frontier
of France. The Lady Castlewood was with her at her ending, and had written
too, but these letters must have been taken by a privateer in the packet
that brought them; for Esmond knew nothing of their contents until his
return to England.

My Lady Castlewood had left everything to Colonel Esmond, "as a reparation
for the wrong done to him"; 'twas writ in her will. But her fortune was
not much, for it ne