and as for being innocent”—­“Well,” she went on, “I knew nothing of my lord’s wickedness for three years after our marriage, and after the burial of our poor little boy I had it done over again, my dear:  I had myself married by Father Holt in Castlewood chapel, as soon as ever I heard the creature was dead—­and having a great illness then, arising from another sad disappointment I had, the priest came and told me that my lord had a son before our marriage, and that the child was at nurse in England; and I consented to let the brat be brought home, and a queer little melancholy child it was when it came.

“Our intention was to make a priest of him:  and he was bred for this, until you perverted him from it, you wicked woman.  And I had again hopes of giving an heir to my lord, when he was called away upon the King’s business, and died fighting gloriously at the Boyne water.

“Should I be disappointed—­I owed your husband no love, my dear, for he had jilted me in the most scandalous way and I thought there would be time to declare the little weaver’s son for the true heir.  But I was carried off to prison, where your husband was so kind to me—­urging all his friends to obtain my release, and using all his credit in my favor—­that I relented towards him, especially as my director counselled me to be silent; and that it was for the good of the King’s service that the title of our family should continue with your husband the late viscount, whereby his fidelity would be always secured to the King.  And a proof of this is, that a year before your husband’s death, when he thought of taking a place under the Prince of Orange, Mr. Holt went to him, and told him what the state of the matter was, and obliged him to raise a large sum for his Majesty; and engaged him in the true cause so heartily, that we were sure of his support on any day when it should be considered advisable to attack the usurper.  Then his sudden death came; and there was a thought of declaring the truth.  But ’twas determined to be best for the King’s service to let the title still go with the younger branch; and there’s no sacrifice a Castlewood wouldn’t make for that cause, my dear.

“As for Colonel Esmond, he knew the truth already.” ("And then, Harry,” my mistress said, “she told me of what had happened at my dear husband’s death-bed").  “He doth not intend to take the title, though it belongs to him.  But it eases my conscience that you should know the truth, my dear.  And your son is lawfully Viscount Castlewood so long as his cousin doth not claim the rank.”

This was the substance of the Dowager’s revelation.  Dean Atterbury had knowledge of it, Lady Castlewood said, and Esmond very well knows how:  that divine being the clergyman for whom the late lord had sent on his death-bed:  and when Lady Castlewood would instantly have written to her son, and conveyed the truth to him, the Dean’s advice was that a letter should be writ to Colonel Esmond rather; that the matter should be submitted to his decision, by which alone the rest of the family were bound to abide.