"shall he, little Trix?"

The little girl, whose name was Beatrix, and whom her papa called by
this diminutive, looked at Henry Esmond solemnly, with a pair of large
eyes, and then a smile shone over her face, which was as beautiful as
that of a cherub, and she came up and put out a little hand to him. A
keen and delightful pang of gratitude, happiness, affection, filled the
orphan child's heart, as he received from the protectors, whom heaven
had sent to him, these touching words and tokens of friendliness and
kindness. But an hour since, he had felt quite alone in the world: when
he heard the great peal of bells from Castlewood church ringing that
morning to welcome the arrival of the new lord and lady, it had rung
only terror and anxiety to him, for he knew not how the new owner would
deal with him; and those to whom he formerly looked for protection were
forgotten or dead. Pride and doubt too had kept him within-doors, when
the Vicar and the people of the village, and the servants of the house,
had gone out to welcome my Lord Castlewood--for Henry Esmond was no
servant, though a dependant; no relative, though he bore the name and
inherited the blood of the house; and in the midst of the noise and
acclamations attending the arrival of the new lord (for whom, you may
be sure, a feast was got ready, and guns were fired, and tenants and
domestics huzzahed when his carriage approached and rolled into the
court-yard of the hall), no one ever took any notice of young Henry
Esmond, who sat unobserved and alone in the Book-room, until the
afternoon of that day, when his new friends found him.

When my lord and lady were going away thence, the little girl, still
holding her kinsman by the hand, bade him to come too. "Thou wilt always
forsake an old friend for a new one, Trix," says her father to her
good-naturedly; and went into the gallery, giving an arm to his lady.