The instinct which led Henry Esmond to admire and love the gracious person, the fair apparition of whose beauty and kindness had so moved him when he first beheld her, became soon a devoted affection and passion of gratitude, which entirely filled his young heart, that as yet, except in the case of dear Father Holt, had had very little kindness for which to be thankful.  O Dea certe, thought he, remembering the lines out of the AEneas which Mr. Holt had taught him.  There seemed, as the boy thought, in every look or gesture of this fair creature, an angelical softness and bright pity—­in motion or repose she seemed gracious alike; the tone of her voice, though she uttered words ever so trivial, gave him a pleasure that amounted almost to anguish.  It cannot be called love, that a lad of twelve years of age, little more than a menial, felt for an exalted lady, his mistress:  but it was worship.  To catch her glance, to divine her errand and run on it before she had spoken it; to watch, follow, adore her; became the business of his life.  Meanwhile, as is the way often, his idol had idols of her own, and never thought of or suspected the admiration of her little pigmy adorer.

My lady had on her side her three idols:  first and foremost, Jove and supreme ruler, was her lord, Harry’s patron, the good Viscount of Castlewood.  All wishes of his were laws with her.  If he had a headache, she was ill.  If he frowned, she trembled.  If he joked, she smiled and was charmed.  If he went a-hunting, she was always at the window to see him ride away, her little son crowing on her arm, or on the watch till his return.  She made dishes for his dinner:  spiced wine for him:  made the toast for his tankard at breakfast:  hushed the house when he slept in his chair, and watched for a look when he woke.  If my lord was not a little proud of his beauty, my lady adored it.  She clung to his arm as he paced the terrace, her two fair little hands clasped round his great one; her eyes were never tired of looking in his face and wondering at its perfection.  Her little son was his son, and had his father’s look and curly brown hair.  Her daughter Beatrix was his daughter, and had his eyes—­were there ever such beautiful eyes in the world?  All the house was arranged so as to bring him ease and give him pleasure.  She liked the small gentry round about to come and pay him court, never caring for admiration for herself; those who wanted to be well with the lady must admire him.  Not regarding her dress, she would wear a gown to rags, because he had once liked it:  and, if he brought her a brooch or a ribbon, would prefer it to all the most costly articles of her wardrobe.

My lord went to London every year for six weeks, and the family being too poor to appear at Court with any figure, he went alone.  It was not until he was out of sight that her face showed any sorrow:  and what a joy when he came back!  What preparation before his return!  The fond creature had his arm-chair at the chimney-side—­delighting to put the children in it, and look at them there.  Nobody took his place at the table; but his silver tankard stood there as when my lord was present.