Having now something to leave, he made a will and despatched it home. The army was now in presence of the enemy; and a great battle expected every day. ’Twas known that the General-in-Chief was in disgrace, and the parties at home strong against him, and there was no stroke this great and resolute player would not venture to recall his fortune when it seemed desperate. Frank Castlewood was with Colonel Esmond; his General having gladly taken the young nobleman on to his staff. His studies of fortifications at Bruxelles were over by this time. The fort he was besieging had yielded, I believe, and my lord had not only marched in with flying colors, but marched out again. He used to tell his boyish wickednesses with admirable humor, and was the most charming young scapegrace in the army.
’Tis needless to say that Colonel Esmond had left every penny of his little fortune to this boy. It was the Colonel’s firm conviction that the next battle would put an end to him: for he felt aweary of the sun, and quite ready to bid that and the earth farewell. Frank would not listen to his comrade’s gloomy forebodings, but swore they would keep his birthday at Castlewood that autumn, after the campaign. He had heard of the engagement at home. “If Prince Eugene goes to London,” says Frank, “and Trix can get hold of him, she’ll jilt Ashburnham for his Highness. I tell you, she used to make eyes at the Duke of Marlborough, when she was only fourteen, and ogling poor little Blandford. I wouldn’t marry her, Harry—no, not if her eyes were twice as big. I’ll take my fun. I’ll enjoy for the next three years every possible pleasure. I’ll sow my wild oats then, and marry some quiet, steady, modest, sensible viscountess; hunt my harriers; and settle down at Castlewood. Perhaps I’ll represent the county—no, damme, you shall represent the county. You have the brains of the family. By the Lord, my dear old Harry, you have the best head and the kindest heart in all the army; and every man says so—and when the Queen dies, and the King comes back, why shouldn’t you go to the House of Commons, and be a Minister, and be made a Peer, and that sort of thing? You be shot in the next action! I wager a dozen of Burgundy you are not touched. Mohun is well of his wound. He is always with Corporal John now. As soon as ever I see his ugly face I’ll spit in it. I took lessons of Father—of Captain Holt at Bruxelles. What a man that is! He knows everything.” Esmond bade Frank have a care; that Father Holt’s knowledge was rather dangerous; not, indeed, knowing as yet how far the Father had pushed his instructions with his young pupil.