ame of Captain Esmond (whereby his innocent
kinsman got more than once into trouble); and so under various pretexts,
and in pursuit of all sorts of pleasures, until he plunged into the lawful
one of marriage, Frank Castlewood had remained away from this country, and
was unknown, save amongst the gentlemen of the army, with whom he had
served abroad. The fond heart of his mother was pained by this long
absence. 'Twas all that Henry Esmond could do to soothe her natural
mortification, and find excuses for his kinsman's levity.

In the autumn of the year 1713, Lord Castlewood thought of returning home.
His first child had been a daughter; Clotilda was in the way of gratifying
his lordship with a second, and the pious youth thought that, by bringing
his wife to his ancestral home, by prayers to St. Philip of Castlewood,
and what not, Heaven might be induced to bless him with a son this time,
for whose coming the expectant mamma was very anxious.

The long-debated peace had been proclaimed this year at the end of March;
and France was open to us. Just as Frank's poor mother had made all things
ready for Lord Castlewood's reception, and was eagerly expecting her son,
it was by Colonel Esmond's means that the kind lady was disappointed of
her longing, and obliged to defer once more the darling hope of her heart.

Esmond took horses to Castlewood. He had not seen its ancient grey towers
and well-remembered woods for nearly fourteen years, and since he rode
thence with my lord, to whom his mistress with her young children by her
side waved an adieu, what ages seem to have passed since then, what years
of action and passion, of care, love, hope, disaster! The children were
grown up now, and had stories of their own. As for Esmond, he felt to be a
hundred years old; his dear mistress only seemed unchanged; she looked and
welcomed him quite as of old. There was the fountain in the court babbling
its familiar music, the old hall and its furniture, the carved chair my
late lord used, the very flagon he drank from. Esmond's mistress knew he
would like to sleep in the little room he used to occupy; 'twas made ready
for him, and wall-flowers and sweet herbs set in the adjoining chamber,
the chaplain's room.

In tears of not unmanly emotion, with prayers of submission to the awful
Dispenser of death and life, of good and evil fortune, Mr. Esmond passed a
part of that first night at Castlewood, lying awake for many hours as the
clock ke