The boy talked of things and people, and not a little about himself, in his frank artless way.  ’Twas easy to see that he and his sister had the better of their fond mother, for the first place in whose affections, though they fought constantly, and though the kind lady persisted that she loved both equally, ’twas not difficult to understand that Frank was his mother’s darling and favorite.  He ruled the whole household (always excepting rebellious Beatrix) not less now than when he was a child marshalling the village boys in playing at soldiers, and caning them lustily too, like the sturdiest corporal.  As for Tom Tusher, his Reverence treated the young lord with that politeness and deference which he always showed for a great man, whatever his age or his stature was.  Indeed, with respect to this young one, it was impossible not to love him, so frank and winning were his manners, his beauty, his gayety, the ring of his laughter, and the delightful tone of his voice.  Wherever he went, he charmed and domineered.  I think his old grandfather the Dean, and the grim old housekeeper, Mrs. Pincot, were as much his slaves as his mother was:  and as for Esmond, he found himself presently submitting to a certain fascination the boy had, and slaving it like the rest of the family.  The pleasure which he had in Frank’s mere company and converse exceeded that which he ever enjoyed in the society of any other man, however delightful in talk, or famous for wit.  His presence brought sunshine into a room, his laugh, his prattle, his noble beauty and brightness of look cheered and charmed indescribably.  At the least tale of sorrow, his hands were in his purse, and he was eager with sympathy and bounty.  The way in which women loved and petted him, when, a year or two afterwards, he came upon the world, yet a mere boy, and the follies which they did for him (as indeed he for them), recalled the career of Rochester, and outdid the successes of Grammont.  His very creditors loved him; and the hardest usurers, and some of the rigid prudes of the other sex too, could deny him nothing.  He was no more witty than another man, but what he said, he said and looked as no man else could say or look it.  I have seen the women at the comedy at Bruxelles crowd round him in the lobby:  and as he sat on the stage more people looked at him than at the actors, and watched him; and I remember at Ramillies, when he was hit and fell, a great big red-haired Scotch sergeant flung his halbert down, burst out a-crying like a woman, seizing him up as if he had been an infant, and carrying him out of the fire.  This brother and sister were the most beautiful couple ever seen; though after he winged away from the maternal nest this pair were seldom together.

Sitting at dinner two days after Esmond’s arrival (it was the last day of the year), and so happy a one to Harry Esmond, that to enjoy it was quite worth all the previous pain which he had endured and forgot, my young lord, filling a bumper, and bidding Harry take another, drank to his sister, saluting her under the title of “Marchioness.”