Boys and Girls from Thackeray

by Kate Dickinson Sweetser

When Dr. Tusher brought the news that smallpox was at the Inn, Henry Esmond's first thought was of alarm for poor Nancy, and then of disquiet for the Castlewood family, lest he might have brought this infection to them; for the truth is, that Mr. Harry had been sitting that day for an hour with Nancy Sievewright, holding her little brother, who had complained of headache, on his knee; and had also since then been drawing pictures and telling stories to little Frank Castlewood, who had occupied his knee for an hour after dinner, and was never tired of Henry's tales of soldiers and horses. As luck would have it, Beatrix had not that evening taken her usual place, which generally she was glad enough to take, upon her tutor's lap. For Beatrix, from the earliest time, was jealous of every caress which was given to her little brother Frank. She would fling away even from her mother's arms if she saw Frank had been there before her; she would turn pale and red with rage if she caught signs of affection between Frank and his mother; would sit apart and not speak for a whole night, if she thought the boy had a better fruit or a larger cake than hers; would fling away a ribbon if he had one too; and from the earliest age, sitting up in her little chair by the great fireplace opposite to the corner where Lady Castlewood commonly sat at her embroidery, would utter childish sarcasm about the favour shown to her brother. These, if spoken in the presence of Lord Castlewood, tickled and amused his humour; he would pretend to love Frank best, and dandle and kiss him, and roar with laughter at Beatrix's jealousy.

So it chanced that upon this very day, when poor Harry Esmond had had the blacksmith's son, and the peer's son, alike upon his knee, little Beatrix had refused to take that place, seeing it had been occupied by her brother, and, luckily for her, had sat at the further end of the room away from him, playing with a spaniel dog which she had—for which by fits and starts she would take a great affection—and talking at Harry Esmond over her shoulder, as she pretended to caress the dog, saying that Fido would love her, and she would love Fido and no one but Fido all the rest of her life.

When, then, Dr. Tusher brought the news that the little boy at the Inn was ill with the smallpox, poor Harry Esmond felt a shock of alarm, not so much for himself as for little Frank, whom he might have brought into peril. Beatrix, who had by this time pouted sufficiently (and who, whenever a stranger appeared, began from infancy almost to play off little graces to catch his attention), her brother being now gone to bed, was for taking her place upon Esmond's knee: for though the Doctor was very attentive to her, she did not like him because he had thick boots and dirty hands (the pert young miss said), and because she hated learning the catechism.

But as she advanced toward Esmond, he started back, and placed the great chair on which he was sitting between him and her—saying in French to Lady Castlewood, "Madam, the child must not approach me; I must tell you that I was at the blacksmith's to-day, and had his little boy upon my lap."

"Where you took my son afterwards!" Lady Castlewood cried, very angry, and turning red. "I thank you, sir, for giving him such company. Beatrix," she continued in English, "I forbid you to touch Mr. Esmond. Come away, child—come to your room. Come to your room—I wish your reverence good-night"—this to Dr. Tusher—adding to Harry: "and you, sir, had not you better go back to your friends at the Inn?"

Her eyes, ordinarily so kind, darted flashes of anger as she spoke; and she tossed up her head with the mien of a Princess, adding such words of reproach and indignation that Harry Esmond, to whom she had never once before uttered a syllable of unkindness, stood for some moments bewildered with grief and rage at the injustice of her reproaches. He turned quite white from red, and answered her in a low voice, ending his little speech with these words, addressed to Lord Castlewood: "Heaven bless you and yours for your goodness to me. I have tired her ladyship's kindness out, and I will go;" and sinking down on his knee, took the rough hand of his benefactor and kissed it.

Here my lady burst into a flood of tears, and quitted the room, as my lord raised up Harry Esmond from his kneeling posture, put his broad hand on the lad's shoulder, and spoke kindly to him. Then, suddenly remembering that Harry might have brought the infection with him, he stepped back suddenly, saying, "Keep off, Harry, my boy; there is no good in running into the wolf's jaws, you know!"

My lady, who had now returned to the room, said: "There is no use, my lord. Frank was on his knee as he was making pictures, and was running constantly from Henry to me. The evil is done, if any."

"Not with me!" cried my lord. "I've been smoking, and it keeps off infection, and as the disease is in the village, plague take it, I would have you leave it. We'll go to-morrow to Wolcott."

"I have no fear, my lord," said my lady; "it broke out in our house when I was an infant, and when four of my sisters had it at home, two years before our marriage, I escaped it."