of the machine.

"When I am gone," Father Holt said, "you may push away the buffet, so
that no one may fancy that an exit has been made that way; lock the door;
place the key--where shall we put the key?--under 'Chrysostom' on the
book shelf; and if any ask for it, say I keep it there, and told you
where to find it, if you had need to go to my room. The descent is easy
down the wall into the ditch; and so once more farewell, until I see thee
again, my dear son."

And with this the intrepid Father mounted the buffet with great agility
and briskness, stepped across the window, lifting up the bars and
framework again from the other side, and only leaving room for Harry
Esmond to stand on tiptoe and kiss his hand before the casement closed,
the bars fixing as firmly as ever, seemingly, in the stone arch overhead.

Esmond, young as he was, would have died sooner than betray his friend
and master, as Mr. Holt well knew; so, then, when Holt was gone, and told
Harry not to see him, it was as if he had never been. And he had this
answer pat when he came to be questioned a few days later.

The Prince of Orange was then at Salisbury, as young Esmond learned from
seeing Dr. Tusher in his best cassock, with a great orange cockade in his
broad-leafed hat, and Nahun, his clerk, ornamented with a like
decoration. The Doctor was walking up and down in front of his parsonage
when little Esmond saw him and heard him say he was going to Salisbury to
pay his duty to his Highness the Prince. The village people had orange
cockades too, and his friend, the blacksmith's laughing daughter, pinned
one into Harry's old hat, which he tore out indignantly when they bade
him to cry "God save the Prince of Orange and the Protestant religion!"