L I E, R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 62-3 
 V.I
 
 \iS[. 
 
 --^ .^i-^-
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 LADY IN WAITING.
 
 ■^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 Memoirs of a Lady in JVaiting. 
 
 h 
 
 The Author of Adventures of Mrs. Colonel Somerset 
 in Caffraria^ Sec. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 London : 
 
 Saunders, Otley, and Co., Conduit Street. 
 
 i860. 
 
 ^ :^: 
 
 The Right of Translation is Reserved.
 
 
 /.I 
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 A LADY m WAITING- 
 
 I CHAPTER I. 
 
 ~- " There is but the flitting moment wherein to enjoy, 
 
 But in the calender of memory that moment is all time." 
 Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy. 
 
 >5 How strange it is to look back upon the 
 ^ past; the often mentioned "long ago" of 
 ^ our lives; to take a retrospective view of 
 
 all the trials and troubles that saddened 
 ^ our hearts, and made life seem so heavy a 
 
 burthen. Do we think those trials so heavy 
 ^ now, when time has shown us the heart's 
 
 real strength, and made us own that trials 
 
 are often, in reality, "glances 'of God's 
 VOL. I. ' B
 
 2 MEMOIES OF A 
 
 watchful eye?" Do we not wonder how we 
 could weep over such trifling matters? 
 
 Ah! it is too true, life begins with 
 trifles. Some one has said — " Sorrows 
 grow with us to perfect maturity, and then 
 having attained their climax, lose their 
 strength as we do ours, till at last they 
 become almost pleasant, drawing us closer 
 to our rest." 
 
 I have found this true, and think most 
 very old people will say so too ; but I am 
 wandering away. I was talking of thinking, 
 or rather dreaming, of the past. 
 
 I dream over it a good deal, and in the 
 quiet evening I draw my arm-chair in front 
 of the fire, and clasping a little precious 
 case of relics belonging to my " long ago," 
 I sit down to enjoy my dream. I conjure 
 up bright scenes in the merry blaze, and 
 hear the echo of happy laughter in the
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 6 
 
 crackling coals. It is very sad, and yet 
 very pleasant; so pleasant, indeed, that I 
 would not forego that half hour of quiet 
 thought for all the gay doings of the merry 
 world. 
 
 I love the remembrance of my young 
 days, the young days too of friends, some 
 of whom are dead, some gone far away, and 
 some so changed that I thank God I can 
 remember their childhood, and thus l^ear 
 with their present condition, for the past 
 sheds its unchanging halo round all and 
 each. 
 
 I am an old woman, a very old woman, 
 and an old cripple, too; so, dear reader, if 
 you would like to learn what 1 have seen 
 before the former came to pass, you must 
 bear with an old fashioned, and, perhaps, 
 rather prosy individual; and when you 
 tire do not tire your friends also by abusing 
 
 B 2
 
 4 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 my story, but rather let them judge for 
 themselves. 
 
 I cannot exactly say why I have begun 
 to tell you of my firelight dreams, but since 
 I have done so I shall go on, dating my story 
 from the second of November, that being 
 the anniversary of my birthday ; and as it is 
 a very cold evening, with snow upon the 
 ground, and a blustering wind blowing 
 against the window, I think no one will in- 
 terrupt me ; so I may tell my story as slowly 
 as I like, and, as the old song has it — 
 
 " Laugh when I'm merry and sigh when I'm sad." 
 
 I do not think I should remember that 
 particular birthday had it not been for an 
 event which happened on it. It was also 
 the birthday of my nurse, a cross, ugly old 
 woman, who, having been my grandmother's 
 and then my dear mother's maid until I
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 
 
 was born, tliought she might say or do 
 anything she pleased, and used to scold us 
 all, even my mother. 
 
 Upon this birthday she was more than 
 usually cross, and hardly said " thank you" 
 for a beautiful chintz dress, all over roses 
 and tulips, which my father had bought in 
 Holland, at my mother's express wish, for 
 this day. I was sitting beside the toilet- 
 table when the present was given, and saw 
 a flush rise to my mother's cheek, as nurse 
 grumbled out a sort of acknowledgment. 
 My father soon came into the room, holding 
 his hat, with its beautiful white plume almost 
 touching the carpet, and looking so hand- 
 some and merry, that no wonder my mother 
 ran up to him, and, blushing with pride, 
 kissed him over and over again. I all the 
 time stood looking on gravely, and thinking 
 how beautiful they both were. He took
 
 b MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 nurse's old wrinkled hand in his, and wished 
 her a happy year ; to which she replied, '' Not 
 much chance of that," with a sort of smile, 
 which I thought made her look more ugly 
 than ever. My father only laughed, and 
 said something in French, which seemed to 
 make my mother sad, even though she 
 laughed mightily and pinched his cheek. 
 After he and nurse had both gone away she 
 laid her head down upon the table for a 
 long time, and I heard her say, " Oh ! God 
 help me to bear all these things for thy dear 
 sake, for all is right that Thou orderest !" 
 Soon after, while she was teaching me 
 to say a little hymn, my father returned. 
 Now he was flushed and angrj^, and before 
 he spoke he caught me up in his arms, and 
 holding me over his head, let me twist my 
 lingers in his glossy ringlets ; then suddenly 
 he looked grave, and opening the door, he
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 7 
 
 put me out of the room, bidding me go to 
 nurse. I did not happen to be pleased 
 with this speedy ending to my usual game 
 of fun with my merry father, and particu- 
 larly being sent off to cross old nurse ; so as 
 the door closed I sat down with my fingers 
 in my mouth, and began to cry heartily. 
 
 I had not sat long when I heard a deep 
 sob in the room, and a cry which sounded 
 like my mother's. My own sobs were 
 checked in a moment, and with open ears I 
 listened for what would come next, but I 
 listened in vain, and growing weary, I fell 
 fast asleep. I do not know how long I 
 slept, but it must have been a long time, for 
 the light was fading away, and I felt cold 
 and stiff. I was awakened by a pale, sad 
 looking lady lifting me in her arms, and, in 
 spite of my half shy, half petted struggles, 
 holding me close to her breast. I then saw'
 
 8 MEMOIES OF A 
 
 there was another and prettier lady with 
 her, who stood back and looked surprised 
 at the kind manner of the other. As they 
 spoke in French, I could not understand 
 any words except one which I knew meant 
 king. 
 
 The sound of their voices low as it was 
 must have reached my father's ears, for we 
 had not stood many moments when he 
 opened the door; at first he looked pale and 
 lifted up his dark eye-brows, as he always 
 did when anything surprised him, but, 
 when the lady who held me, turned round, 
 he grew very red, starting back at the same 
 time, but suddenly changing he looked very 
 pleased, and falling on one knee seized her 
 hand, which the lady held out, and com- 
 menced speaking very fast, growing so ex- 
 cited, that I began to think he would cry. 
 I think the lady thought so too, for she
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 9 
 
 put me into her companion's arms and 
 said — " Poor child! I cannot hokl you any 
 more." 
 
 Then as I was carried away, I saw her 
 lay her hand upon my father's head, and 
 lean against the door, but I was hurried 
 away, and could see no more, and, child like, 
 very soon forgot all that had happened in a 
 romping game at hide-and-seek, amongst 
 the great old-fashioned chairs in one of our 
 large drawing-rooms. 
 
 I was still laughing wildly when the door 
 opened, and my father led in the pale lady ; 
 I ran up and seizing her hand looked in her 
 face. 
 
 I suppose she remembered being a little 
 girl, and that little girls liked to be petted, 
 for she lifted me in her arms and kissed me, 
 saying as she put me down, ''I was very 
 like my dear mother," for which I said 
 
 B 5
 
 10 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 ''thank you madam," and made a low 
 curtsey, such as a merry Mend of my 
 mother's had taught me; the lady smiled 
 kindly and said, I was a "courtly little 
 dame," and should be a maid of honour! 
 After saying this, she let my father lead her 
 through the open window into the garden, 
 where they spoke for a few moments, he 
 seeming to request something she would not 
 grant ; at last he knelt down and kissed her 
 hand, remaining still kneeling while the lady 
 seemed to float awav, at least I can call it 
 by no other name, so gracefully did she 
 move out of my sight. 
 
 The next moment I was clinging round 
 my father's neck, pulling his hair, and telling 
 him how merry I had been with the pretty 
 lady with the fair hair, and that she had 
 told me I was not half so pretty, and had 
 not half such blue eves as he had, at which
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 11 
 
 he laughed much and bid me tell my 
 mother, which I . now remember I forgot to 
 do, but said at the time I would ; and then 
 he sent me to nurse, telling me not to take 
 the pet again or I should not ride on his 
 back or have any more fun for a long time, 
 so promising to be good I ran off brim full 
 of news, and never caring anything for 
 cross looks, when I had so much to un- 
 burden my mind of. It was one, two, three 
 and a jump along the oak corridor, and 
 then dash against the great nursery door. 
 
 That night when the hour came at which 
 the servants all met us in the great hall, and 
 the Chaplain read prayers, I saw a man I 
 had never seen before; his face made me 
 shudder and draw closer to my mother than 
 my wont was, keeping my face close upon 
 her arm. 
 
 He was on the other side and there was
 
 12 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 an expression of hatred and contempt upon 
 her dear face which till then I could not 
 have believed possible. Young as I was, I 
 noticed with what repugnance she avoided 
 meeting his eye, and seemed to recoil when 
 he officiously attempted to pick up a glove 
 she had dropped. 
 
 It was one my father had given her and 
 which she valued both for the giver and 
 the costliness of the work, yet even there 
 before all the servants she would not touch 
 it, but desired her woman to carry it away. 
 I wondered, but thought she perhaps wished 
 to save them. Besides the man had very 
 dirty hands. 
 
 My father being absent, after the ser- 
 vants had according to their custom wished 
 my mother " God's blessing and good 
 night," she, as the last left the room, went 
 up to the Chaplain and spoke a word or two 
 in a whisper, then she turned to the
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 13 
 
 stranger and made one of those stately 
 bows, which at the time I speak of were the 
 fashion amongst the great. She next grasped 
 my hand and led me away holding my poor 
 fingers so tight as to bring the tears to 
 my eyes ; but not a word would I say, no 
 not though a large diamond ring she wore 
 cut me almost to the bone, and I saw the 
 blood drop upon my dress. I have the 
 scar upon my fore-finger yet, and can 
 almost fancy I feel the clutch of the fair 
 little hand now. Oh ! how she sobbed and 
 cried when she saw my hand was hurt, 
 talking to herself of bad omens ; her woman 
 had sad work to quiet her, but at last being 
 exhausted with weeping, which I thought 
 strange for so small a thing, (though I knew 
 after that it was but the drop which had 
 made the cup overflow,) being quite tired 
 out she let Margaret arrange her beautiful
 
 14 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 hair for the night, and sent her to tell nurse 
 that I was to remain where I was. 
 
 After a little petting and talking I was 
 laid in her soft comfortable bed, w^hich I 
 thought (and what little girl does not?) far 
 more delightful than my own, and that the 
 permission to sleep there was recompense 
 sufficient for all the cut fingers in the world. 
 Just as I was dropping asleep, remember- 
 ing I had not said my prayers, I sprung 
 out of bed, and running up to my mother, 
 who was sitting with her head resting 
 on one hand, told her; and after kissing 
 her very often, I knelt down and said the 
 little prayer she had taught me, ending 
 with asking a blessing for my grandfather, 
 whom, though I had never seen, or even 
 known by any other name, I had been taught 
 to love and pray for, since I first could speak. 
 As I said, "Please bless my dear grand-
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 15 
 
 father," I felt my mother's arm tremble, 
 and she repeated the words in a low, 
 strange voice; but before I could think 
 more, or ask the question that was tremb- 
 ling on my lij^s, I heard my father enter. 
 In an instant he was kneeling beside me, 
 his arms round us both, and his face 
 buried in my mother's white dressing- 
 gown. I said ''Amen," and looked up; 
 he was shaking very much ; even his voice, 
 as he joined me, trembled; suddenly he 
 raised his head and said — 
 
 "It is in vain, dearest ; hopeless — quite 
 hopeless!" 
 
 " Is there not a shadow of a hope, 
 Edward?" asked my mother, speaking as 
 if in great pain; for she held her hands 
 clasped all the time, and wrung them in 
 agony as my father shook his head. 
 
 She leant back, and great tears rolled
 
 16 MEMOIUS 0^ A 
 
 down her cheeks, which were as wliite as 
 marble, her Hps movmg as if she w^as 
 praying. All at once she threw her arms 
 round my father and said— 
 
 '' Oh! Edward, they dare not kill him, 
 my noble father; he so gentle and so kind; 
 he who knelt to beg the poor king's life ! 
 Oh ! the son dare not consent to this 
 wicked murder ! " and she seemed too much 
 excited even to breathe, still grasping my 
 father's neck, apparently unconscious that 
 I was growing frightened, began sobbing 
 bitterly, at which, gently disengaging her 
 arms, he lifted me up, and after holding my 
 face to the cold cheek of my poor mother, he 
 laid me in bed and covered me carefully up, 
 lingering as if he liked to look at me. 
 He made me so comfortable, that in spite 
 of my endeavours to stay awake and hear 
 the end of what had already so much
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 17 
 
 excited my curiosity, my eyes shut of 
 their own accord, and though I opened 
 them once or twice very angrily, I forgot 
 everything and fell fast asleep. 
 
 It could not have been long after, when 
 I awoke frightened and trembling from a 
 horrible dream. Starting up, I saw to my 
 great joy the light still burning, and my 
 dear mother sitting in — the safest place in 
 the world — my father's arms. They were 
 talking in a low voice, and after looking 
 at them for a short time until I was 
 at rest again, I lay down and fell to 
 thinking of all sorts of things. My eyes 
 were accidentally fixed upon the door, 
 which I thought moved ; being rather 
 frightened, I looked very hard, and pre- 
 sently it opened a little, and a hideous face 
 looked in, so dark and horrible that I 
 thought it must be the devil, and lay
 
 18 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 perfectly paralyzed with fear, expecting 
 every moment he would appear bodily. 
 The glaring eyes were looking towards my 
 parents; and as they spoke low, the face 
 was thrust farther forward, so far as to 
 become distinctly visible. 
 
 The spell was broken — I knew it was 
 the stranger who had been at prayers, and 
 like a pent-up stream my fear burst forth 
 in a loud shriek, and springing up, I 
 shouted — 
 
 " The man ! the man ! " 
 
 In an instant both my parents were 
 by my side, but it was long before I 
 could make them comprehend what had 
 frightened me. When they did, all trace 
 of the cause was of course gone, and the 
 door fast closed. But my father turned 
 deadly pale as he looked towards my 
 mother, who, as soon as she could make
 
 LADY m WAITING. 19 
 
 out wlio and what I had seen, had dropped 
 my hand, and stood staring with wild eyes. 
 
 " Will they take you too ?" she gasped ; 
 and then, hardly knowino; what she said 
 or did, she caught me in her arms and 
 cried aloud — 
 
 " If they take you, Edward, this child 
 will be an orphan, for the blow that parts 
 your soul and body will unite tis for ever 
 in God's heavenly kingdom." 
 
 My father only hid his face and said — 
 
 " Oh ! my wife ! that kingdom — would it 
 were ours; any way to it, even the " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! for the love of heaven ! 
 the word would kill me. Oh ! my child ! 
 my child ! pray God you may go with us, 
 for there is no rest or peace on earth." 
 
 The fountain of her tears seemed dry; 
 but I would rather have seen those torrents 
 of tears which she had shed at the com-
 
 20 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 mencement of tliat fearful niglit, than heard 
 the deep tearless sobs which now seemed 
 to tear her breast, and even left a stain of 
 blood upon her lips. My dear father led 
 her away, this time sitting down out of 
 sight of the door, and carefully locking it. 
 
 I was so worn out, between fear and ex- 
 citement, that I fell asleep. Nor did I awake 
 until the bright sun was shining into the 
 room so cheerfully, that I could scarcely 
 believe but that the scenes of the night 
 before were only dreams.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " His memory, like some holy light, 
 
 Kept alive in our hearts will improve them, 
 For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright, 
 When we think how he lived but to love them " 
 
 Moore. 
 
 I SHALL never forget that day, or how pale 
 and troubled my poor mother was, and how 
 she kept watching for my father, starting at 
 every sound. As evening came, still with- 
 out bringing him, I could see that after 
 every false alarm she pressed her handker- 
 chief to her forehead, till at last it became 
 quite damp, and I was sent to bring a fresh 
 one. The sun was just setting amid a 
 haze of red and purple when the long ex- 
 pected step was heard.
 
 22 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Witli an exclamation of delight my mo- 
 ther i^an to the hall, but a shade of dis- 
 appointment passed over her face, for my 
 father was accompanied by a handsome old 
 man, who, looking kindly at her, took her 
 hand, and without noticing me led her back 
 to the drawing-room. What happened there 
 I do not know, being sent off to my bed; 
 but I found out next day that my father 
 was preparing to go on a foreign embassy, 
 and that though my mother grieved to part 
 with him, she kept always telling him how 
 thankful she was, and that they could never 
 thank my Lord Clarendon enough. 
 
 She helped to pack the great leather 
 trunk, folding everything with her own 
 hands, and often, when she thought nobody 
 was looking, holding the clothes to her lips 
 until tears came ; then she would sigh and 
 begin packing again.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 23 
 
 My father was running backwards and 
 forwards from the Court all day, and when 
 night came looked so tired and worn out 
 that my mother made him lie down and 
 rest his head upon her lap, she all the while 
 trying to talk cheerfully and keep back the 
 bitter tears which I saw coming to her eyes. 
 
 At last midnight came, and, after kneel- 
 ing down with us to ask God's protection 
 during his journey, my beloved father went 
 with my Lord Clarendon in a hired coach 
 to the wharf where the ship lay ready to sail. 
 
 When he had fairly gone, my mother's 
 courage gave way, and I thought she was 
 dead, so long did the stupor last, but at 
 length she clasped me in her arms and 
 began to cry. 
 
 For three days she could not leave her 
 bed; but on the third, the pale lady, of 
 whom I spoke before, came to her, and I
 
 24 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 noticed that when she left, my mother looked 
 calmer and got up next morning at her 
 usual hour, which showed me she must 
 have derived great comfort from her kind 
 visitor, who, when she returned, did not 
 send me away as before, but allowed me 
 to sit at my mother's feet and listen; 
 though I could not understand what was 
 said, as they spoke in French, I saw the 
 lady's words pleased my mother, and 
 though her tears often came they were 
 not so bitter, but rather appeared to soothe. 
 Time went by, and each day the com- 
 forter came, always alone and always at the 
 same hour. Other people too used to call, 
 both ladies and gentlemen, though of the 
 latter she only seemed pleased with my 
 Lord Clarendon, who was the father of one 
 of our lady friends, the pretty but unhappy 
 looking Duchess of York.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 25 
 
 In spite of all this attention and kindness 
 time passed wearily, my mother growing so 
 thin and pale that the dear lady, who had 
 made me call her Mistress Catherine, after 
 much persuasion, made her promise to 
 drive every day. 
 
 This driving had a sad end. One day, 
 when going to the park, the coachman had 
 to draw aside to make room for an immense 
 procession. I, full of admiration and wonder 
 at the horses, soldiers, and dresses, was 
 gazing eagerly at the crowd, begging to know 
 who they were, when I felt my waist grasped 
 by my mother ; she dragged me back into the 
 coach, and, to my utter consternation, flung 
 open the door and sprung out. I heard 
 her shriek, and saw the crowd open before 
 her and then close again, waving to and 
 fro like the sea. At last my mother was 
 brought back in the arms of a tall young 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 man, who laid her in the coach and then 
 hurried away. Immediately after my Lord 
 Clarendon came and got in beside us, pull- 
 ing up the shutters as he ordered the 
 coachman to drive home. I was very much 
 afraid ; but the quiet eye that was fixed upon 
 me kept me quiet, though the sobs swelled in 
 my throat, so I sat holding my mother's 
 hand and feeling utterly wretched, for I 
 thought she had been killed, and believed 
 my Lord Clarendon knew it. Great, be- 
 yond all expression, was my joy when I 
 saw her eyes open, and perceiving my Lord 
 near her laid her head upon his arm, and 
 began weeping; while he, bending down, 
 spoke in a low tone, not making mention 
 of any name, I heard him say, — '' How 
 like a saint he looked," and that "they 
 would see him even more glorious 
 again."
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 27 
 
 To my great grief, I was not permitted 
 to remain with my mother when we reached 
 home, but sent to my dismal nursery, 
 where T went supperless to bed, as punish- 
 ment for asking nurse so many questions. 
 
 Altogether, the day was a sad and 
 troubled one — one ever to be remembered 
 in our family, and indeed in England; for 
 I found that a dreadful crime had been 
 authorized by the Parliament, and to satisfy 
 the private revenge of malignant enemies, 
 a good old man, to whom no blame could 
 be attached save chosing the side of the 
 Parliament in the civil war, had been that 
 day brought to the scaffold. Dear reader, 
 that man was my grandfather, the good 
 old General Okey, who, after years of 
 exile, was betrayed by one he deemed his 
 friend, brought to England as a traitor, 
 and in spite of the earnest remonstrance 
 
 c 2
 
 28 • MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 of a few firm supporters, condemned to 
 death. The certainty of liis fate had been 
 concealed from my mother, and thus she 
 fell in the way of seeing the fulfilment of 
 her fears. 
 
 I am telHng you this now, dear reader, 
 although I did not know it for a long time 
 after ; but, to keep my story clear, I had 
 better explain events as they happened. 
 This event was what my father • meant 
 when he said there was "no hope," and 
 also explains my mother's grief. This, too, 
 was the cause of my father's leaving Eng- 
 land, he being so implicated in the petitions 
 for my grandfather's pardon as to draw 
 suspicion on himself. 
 
 A few nights after the sad day I have 
 just been speaking of, I had gone to bed 
 without, as usual, seeing my mother; but 
 knowing she was sure to come, I lay awake
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 29 
 
 and watched nurse knitting until she I'ell 
 asleep, and then, being very lonely, I began 
 (as children very often do) to cry, hiding 
 my face under the sheets. Gradually my 
 tears ceased; I began meditating whether 
 I could not get up and steal away to my 
 mother, when a hand lifted the sheet, and I 
 saw my Lord Clarendon holding a small 
 lamp, which threw a strange light upon his 
 pale, svveet face. 
 
 I neither started nor spoke, but waited 
 for him to say something, which he soon 
 did, telHng me to " be quiet and not awake 
 her," meaning nurse, who was still sleep- 
 ing. Putting my arms round his neck, I 
 begged him to take me to my mother, 
 and he answered by lifting me up, and 
 with a noiseless step, which I thought very 
 strange for such a tall man, carried me 
 past nurse and along the corridor, — not,
 
 30 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 however, to my mother's room, but up a 
 long flight of stairs, to a little room usually 
 occupied by the chaplain ; here he knocked. 
 The instant the door opened, the light 
 dazzled my eyes; but I knew whose arms 
 were clasped round me, and, hiding my 
 face, I clung delighted to my father's 
 breast. 
 
 When I raised my head I saw he was 
 so changed that I hardly knew him. His 
 beautiful hair and moustache had been 
 cut off, and there was an ugly black patch 
 across his cheek. Seeing my look of dis- 
 may, and perhaps fear, he set me down 
 with an angry exclamation. But my 
 lord put me in his arms again, saying — 
 
 " Edward, you are mad; remember your 
 disguise; you may never see her again." 
 
 My father groaned and held me in his 
 arms again, and I could feel his heart
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 31 
 
 throbbing against mine as he kissed me, 
 whispering a prayer in my ear that God 
 would watch over me and make me a com- 
 fort to my mother. This caused me to 
 look up, expecting she was there ; but I 
 only saw a tall man, who was leaning 
 against the door with folded arms, and 
 looking eagerly at me. 
 
 " She is not here, my pet," whispered 
 my father, " but you are going to her." 
 
 Then he clenched his hand, and swore 
 to have vengeance on the murderers of my 
 grandfather. 
 
 But my lord stepped forward, and 
 laying his hand upon his lips, said rather 
 sternly — 
 
 " Edward, be silent; this folly may bring 
 us all to the scaffold." 
 
 My father bit his lip, and looked in the 
 kind friend's face with such a gaze of love
 
 32 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 and trust, that it has remained ever upon 
 my memory, and ever will. 
 
 His eyes were still on my lord's face, 
 when a sharp, low knock made vis all 
 start; a side-door opened, and there stood 
 Mistress Catherine. 
 
 She wore a large cloak thrown over a 
 gay dress, and her hood having fallen 
 back, I saw a wreath of glittering jewels 
 encircled her head. 
 
 My Lord Clarendon started, and, wath a 
 troubled face, remained perfectly still. 
 
 " Give me your child, my friend," she 
 said, in her sweet voice, though it trembled 
 much. " I could not trust them; I came, 
 and your wif^ is ready. Let me have 
 her," she added hurriedly, " I promise to 
 protect her ; she shall be mine ; you know 
 1 have no child." 
 
 '^Heaven bless your Majesty," said my
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 33 
 
 father, scarcely able to speak, as lie laid 
 
 me in her arms. " Oh, make her like ' 
 
 here his voice gave way, and, covering his 
 face, he sat silent. 
 
 A loud noise echoed through the nouse. 
 while the great bell pealed fiercely. In 
 an instant the lights were extinguished, 
 and Mistress Catherine, carrying me in 
 her arms, ran quickly down a long steep 
 stair, at the bottom of which some one was 
 waiting, to whom she spoke in a language 
 I had never heard before, but only a few 
 words, and then a gust of cold wind made 
 me cling closer to her breast. 
 
 "Be patient, dear one," she whispered; 
 "rest, rest." • 
 
 I lay still, being an obedient child, and 
 also very frightened. Although I was small 
 of my age my weight soon began to 
 have effect. I could fell her arms trem- 
 
 c5
 
 34 MEMOIRS OF A . 
 
 bling violently, while her breathing grew 
 quick and loud. " Let me walk," I cried, 
 trying to get down ; but she held me tight 
 until she was quite exhausted, when she 
 said — 
 
 " I believe I must put you on your poor 
 bare feet." 
 
 The cold damp grass chilled me as I 
 ran along; we came to a walk, the stones 
 of which cut my feet, still I had a brave 
 heart and went on. Presently a lamp shone 
 before us, and in the dim light I saw we 
 had reached a gate at which stood a coach, 
 and in it I joyfully recognised my mother. 
 
 " Is all safe," she asked, speaking over 
 
 mv shoulder 4to Mistress Catherine. 
 
 %/ 
 
 '-' As far as human power can go ; but 
 there is no time to lose." 
 
 " The Holy Virgin be with you, my 
 friend."
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 35 
 
 With her own hands she closed the door, 
 and bade the postilion go on. Looking up as 
 the coach moved, I saw her standing alone, 
 without any protection save her own pure, 
 noble heart. In after years, when my 
 mother spoke of it, she said she looked 
 angelic as the pale light fell upon her bare 
 head; and that her eyes shone brighter 
 than the stars above her. No wonder my 
 dear mother thought this, for Mistress 
 Catherine had risked all she held dear on 
 earth to assist the innocent and wronged. 
 
 What a terrible night's drive that was,-— 
 first, from the agony of grief my mother 
 took no pains to conceal, and then, from 
 the wild storm of rain and wind which 
 raged over the plains, and often threatened 
 to burst open the frail shuttters of the 
 creaking old coach. Yet, in spite of storm 
 and rain, on we went ; but, after some time
 
 36 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 it was evident our pace was slackening, 
 until at last the horses stood still, and 
 neither whip nor spur would induce them 
 to move a step. 
 
 My poor mother put up with the lashes 
 and oaths of the postilion for a long time, 
 at last she could do so no longer; so, pull- 
 ing aside one of the shutters, she called 
 out she would sooner walk a thousand 
 times. But the man was either deaf or 
 did not wish to hear, for he still sat kick- 
 ing and swearing until the poor beasts, 
 having recovered their breath, made ano- 
 ther start, and gaining a level piece of 
 road went along quite briskly. 
 
 Daylight was now beginning to peep 
 over the black looking hills, and every 
 minute I could trace more distinctly the 
 outline of the country. Oh ! what a bleak 
 wild country it was, — low bare hills rising
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 37 
 
 and falling on every side, separated by 
 swampy hollows and dotted here and there 
 with miserable stunted old trees, putting me 
 in mind of the horrible German tales I used 
 to delight in so much, about dwarfs who, 
 when daylight came, changed themselves 
 into just such trees, and stayed in bare 
 places to induce the unwary traveller to 
 take shelter under their branches. At 
 night they would resume their former 
 shapes, and after tormenting their victims 
 in the most horrible manner, change them 
 also into trees and put them to entice their 
 friends to destruction, with no power left 
 but to give vent to their feelings with sighs 
 and groans only. So impressed was I with 
 the reality of these tales, that I was not 
 effectually quieted as long as I could see a 
 bush or tree, and felt intense relief when they 
 gave place to gray rocks and heathy hills.
 
 38 MExMOIRS OF A 
 
 We journeyed on, dawn getting brighter, 
 until heralded by a whole army of red 
 and purple clouds the bright sun burst 
 forth over the horizon. Turning to my 
 mother, I saw she was praying. " Let 
 me pray too, mother," I said, and, clasp- 
 ing my hands, I repeated my morning 
 hymn. Then we both sat watching the 
 ever changing tints of the dispersing clouds. 
 I have seen many sunrises since, for I am 
 an old fashioned early riser; but I do not 
 think I ever felt so awe- stricken, or was 
 so^ sensible of the overwhelming majesty 
 of God. Even now, when I see a similar 
 one, something of my old feeling comes 
 back, and I fancy myself a wondering 
 child again. 
 
 "What is that, mother?" I asked, as 
 after some of the clouds had risen and 
 others had floated entirely out of sight,
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 39 
 
 I noticed a dark blue line boimding the 
 horizon. 
 
 My mother's cheek grew red, as she 
 answered in a more cheerful voice — 
 
 " It is the sea, my pet ; we have not 
 far to go now." 
 
 I then asked many questions, but gained 
 little information, for she evaded them all ; 
 and seeing she was too much occupied by 
 her own thoughts to heed mine, was at 
 last content to hold my tongue and wait 
 patiently for the end of our journey to 
 elucidate the mystery of the night. 
 
 I had not long to wait : soon after losing 
 sight of the sea for a time, we suddenly 
 saw it again, this time as the background to 
 what I thought the prettiest valley I had 
 ever beheld. 
 
 The road had been gradually rising for a 
 mile or two, and I observed that we were
 
 40 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 now far above the little valley, in wliieli 
 were wliite cottages gleaming through dark 
 green trees. 
 
 Close to the road a stream rushed down 
 the face of a gray rock, and fell foaming 
 into a dark pool far below ; I just looked, 
 and then drew back, fearing we too were 
 going over, but the road took a sharp turn, 
 and at a very slow walk we began descend- 
 ing the steep hill, the coach all the time 
 creaking and swaying to and fro. 
 
 My heart beat quicker and quicker, as 
 the windows of the cottages became more 
 distinctly visible, particularly when I saw 
 a spire ; and after another turn, and a long 
 look, knew it was a village church. How 
 lovely it looked, peeping over the tallest of 
 the trees, and pointing to Heaven seemed to 
 lose itself in eternity ! 
 
 We were soon on level ground, the road
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 41 
 
 winding in and out amongst trees and small 
 fields until we reached the first cottage in a 
 street of old houses. 
 
 To my dismay I saw that it was empty, 
 and the next also, but at last observing 
 some children before a porch, I longed to 
 jump out and be down upon the fresh grass 
 beside them; we passed close by the 
 church. 
 
 Old and gray it certainly was, with ivy 
 clinging round its walls, and the dark 
 cypresses almost burying the church-yard. 
 My mother took my hand and said in a 
 quiet but very, very sad voice— 
 
 " Mary, I was married in that church."
 
 42 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Each turn of the oft trodden path 
 Recalls some early day, 
 And brings before the brighting eye 
 Some friend long passed away." 
 
 My mother's attention was now occupied by 
 thoughts of the past, while I was not less 
 busily engaged in noting the outward ap- 
 pearance of the old house beside the church 
 which we were now approaching. 
 
 At first sight, I thought it was almost a 
 ruin ; there were gables and turrets rising in 
 all directions, round which whole flocks of 
 jackdaws hovered, and almost entirely 
 covered with ivy, which here and there
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 43 
 
 having been torn by storms from the old 
 gray walls, now hung down in tangled 
 masses, waving in the breeze as if to greet 
 us. When we arrived at the old porch, I 
 knew by a sort of instinct even before my 
 mother spoke, that our journey was over. 
 
 The postilion got down from the great 
 bony horse and stood for a while stretching 
 himself, and looking so queer that I began 
 to laugh, and was trying to smother my 
 merriment, when the door of the house 
 opened, and a gray haired man with a 
 beaming smile absolutely lighting up his 
 wrinkled face came forth. He received my 
 dear mother with open arms, bidding her 
 welcome to her home, and she though 
 trembling and very pale did not give way to 
 tears, bearing up and answering the many 
 questions the old man asked, he pausing every 
 now and then on our way across the hall to
 
 44 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 look at me and call me his "little pet!" 
 Wken we reached a lighter room and he 
 saw how jaded my mother was, he made 
 her sit down, and ran to order some refresh- 
 ment. 
 
 A great wolf dog which had been lying 
 before the fire, had now risen, and stood 
 looking wistfully up in my mother^s face; 
 she did not see him, and just as I was 
 going to draw her attention to him, he 
 rubbed his nose agaist her hand, uttering a 
 low whine. 
 
 My mother looked at the dog, and said 
 in a tone of astonishment — " Dear old 
 Mark !" Then throwing her arms round his 
 shaggy neck, she began to cry, leaving her 
 face resting upon his head. 
 
 Mark seemed quite happy, whining and 
 wagging his tail all the time until the old 
 gentleman coming in, my mother said —
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 45 
 
 " Oh, dear uncle Burnett, to think of 
 finding Mark here yet, it makes me almost 
 feel a mi asrain." 
 
 " Oh, my dear," said Mr. Burnett, " Mark 
 and I have kept watch here together, he is 
 a faithful friend. But now, you must lie 
 down and drink some of this wine, or T 
 shall have to exercise some of my medical 
 skill, I fear." 
 
 His cheerful tone seemed to dispell my 
 mother's sad feelings, and, yielding with a 
 child-like obedience to his orders, she lay 
 down, drank the wine, apd let him arrange 
 a plaid over her, Mark taking up his sta- 
 tion by the fire again, but keeping his 
 great eyes fixed upon my mother, while a 
 wag of his tail, every now and then, told 
 that he recognized her presence. 
 
 I sat down on a stool, and began to think
 
 46 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 how she used to dislike dogs, particularly 
 the little glossy things the Court ladies de- 
 lighted to carry in their arms and feed with 
 sweetmeats, and which she used to call 
 ugly little things, and to wonder at such a 
 change in her feelings towards the objection- 
 able race. Being fond of weaving romances 
 for my own gratification, I set to work, but 
 my attention was soon diverted to another 
 channel, and my curiosity awakened by the 
 earnest conversation between my mother 
 and Mr. Burnett. They both seemed much 
 aifected, he repeating — 
 
 " God have mercy on His people ;" and 
 then, in speaking of the King, said — 
 
 " He acts not according to his own judg- 
 ment, but by the evil counsel of those in 
 favour." 
 
 I was astonished to hear my mother 
 speak in a familiar manner of the Queen,
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 47 
 
 thinking it strange slie could know all she 
 said. At length Mr. Burnett volunteered 
 to show her the chamber he had prepared 
 for our use, and, taking my hand, she led 
 me up stairs. I observed she looked eagerly 
 round, as if remembering every turn, and, 
 when he opened the last door of a long pas- 
 sage, and turned round, a flood of sunshine 
 lighting up his venerable face, my mother 
 fairly threw her arms round his neck, and 
 thanked him over and over again for giving 
 her her own old room. 
 
 " I tried to make it as much like bygone 
 times as possible," said he, with a smile of 
 satisfaction, and taking her hand, led her 
 in, when, seeing she was much affected, he 
 tried to soothe her, saying, " Remember, 
 God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb ; 
 every trouble comes saddled with a blessing. 
 Think how peacefully you can educate this
 
 48 MEMORIS OF A 
 
 little maiden. May heaven grant her a 
 happier life than the blessed martyr she 
 so much resembles," 
 
 Thus saying, he placed his hand upon 
 my head, and, gazing earnestly at me, went 
 away without looking back at my mother. 
 
 As soon as the door closed I flew to her, 
 and getting on her lap, I laid my head in 
 its old resting-place, amongst the soft white 
 folds of her muslin kerchief. 
 
 "Tell me all about everything," I said; 
 '' I want to know everything from the be- 
 ginning." 
 
 " Too long a story, dearest," she said ; 
 " too sad and too sorrowful ; so we will talk 
 and rest." 
 
 She began to speak of having lived here 
 years ago, but suddenly stopping, she got 
 up and drew back a curtain which concealed
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 49 
 
 a large picture. I looked, and there I 
 saw a face I knew well. 
 
 " How good of Uncle Burnett to think 
 of this too," said my mother. " Do you 
 know that face, my child? Do you re- 
 member my little picture of your grand- 
 father?" 
 
 Little did she think how well I did, 
 or how often I dreamt that it came and 
 watched over me, pointing always with 
 one arm to heaven. Little did my dear 
 mother know the deep impression that 
 face had made upon my heart, or think 
 how, in after hfe, it would come like a 
 guardian angel between me and the many 
 trials that fell to my lot. 
 
 I told her I often thought of him, 
 and begged to know still more, of what 
 he had done and suffered. So we sat 
 talking until the dim twilight stole into 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 the room, and the picture became more 
 and more indistinct, fading at last entirely 
 away, but leaving the face as clear, in my 
 mind's eye, as when the bright sun shone 
 full upon it. I remained very quiet and 
 thoughtful; a veil seemed to have been 
 lifted up. I had grown older by many 
 years during that brief conversation. 
 The enigma of my past life had been 
 solved. I could understand now the 
 cause of my mother's tears and anxiety^ 
 my father's frequent journeys, and the 
 flight we had made. 
 
 When first told of my grandfather's 
 fate, a glimmering of the truth came into 
 my mind, but after events had oblite- 
 rated it. Now the key had been applied, 
 and as is often the case, my mind had
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 51 
 
 been opened to reason, and indeed to 
 comprehend the past with its bearings 
 on the present. 
 
 Do not think I am forgetting now 
 what I felt as a child, or making a pro- 
 digy of a simple little girl ; not so at all. 
 Many of those who can recall their child- 
 hood, will remember well enough that 
 in one hour or moment they have sud- 
 denly felt as it were the real truth of 
 life — the reality of living. Few, I re- 
 joice, have been so sadly awakened to 
 this state, as few have been placed in 
 such a combination of troubles as I was ; 
 but then let them remember the time of 
 which I speak, let them turn to any of 
 our historians and think in what a 
 dangerous position my poor father must 
 
 D 2 

 
 52 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 have been, and they will understand how 
 a child's life might be crowded with ad- 
 ventures and trials. 
 
 Things are changed now, and I trust 
 will remain so; for sad indeed were the 
 days of my girlhood. England was like 
 a sleeping volcano, there was no very 
 visible appearance of the smouldering fire ; 
 yet the attentive listener could hear the 
 suppressed mutterings of the imprisoned 
 force, and at times the earth would trem- 
 ble beneath his feet. 
 
 Not only was public spirit in such a 
 sad wild state, party feeling was bitterer 
 still, and alas! that it should have been. 
 The dreadful taint crept into one's very 
 household; sitting like a skeleton beside 
 each hearth, the nearest relatives were
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 53 
 
 ready to rise up, ready to cast aside all 
 ties of nature and kindred, and deliver 
 the brother or father to the scaffold. 
 
 The King, though nominally at the 
 head, was in reality ruled, or rather mis- 
 ruled, by ambitious and intriguing cour- 
 tiers. One day the Church, the next 
 Dissenters ; one hour a good man would 
 warm the dormant feeling of his heart, 
 and a just law would be issued, the next 
 a gay, jesting profligate Avould set law. 
 justice, and wisdom at defiance, and the 
 country would be paralyzed by some des- 
 perate edict worthy of a Nero. 
 
 In the midst of such change and un- 
 certainty, the good Queen alone seemeti 
 to find universal favour, and I had almost 
 said pity, for few knew with what real
 
 54 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 aiFection Charles regarded his gentle, 
 modest wife ; and those few were mostly 
 such whose interest it was to conceal and 
 blacken by their vile lies the true charac- 
 ter of Catherine, and her secret influence 
 over the weak King. Alas that that in- 
 fluence only lasted while her sweet voice 
 was whispering its wise counsels in his 
 ear, and her clear, loving eyes looking 
 in his ! 
 
 Perhaps the greatest blot among the 
 many dark spots that sullied the time, 
 was the open contempt in which every 
 principle of virtue and goodness was 
 held. In fact, to attain anything like 
 fashionable pre-eminence, a man must 
 acquire a reputation for profligacy that 
 would strike horror and disgust into any
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 55 
 
 heart in which even a single spark of 
 virtue existed. Nor did men alone seek 
 to gain great places by vile acts. As a 
 natural consequence women, too, aspired 
 to fame so easily gained; and who can 
 wonder at the depravity of the age, when 
 those who were placed at the King's right- 
 hand, almost before the Queen herself, 
 were women such as the Duchess of 
 St. Albyns and Portsmouth. Language 
 which would now raise a blush even on 
 the cheek of a Billingsgate fishwife, was 
 then the common medium of conversa- 
 tion between those who professed to the 
 highest accomphshments of the day ; and 
 long ere the first down of youth had 
 faded from the fair debutante's cheek, the
 
 56 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 blush had forgotten its once hallowed 
 throne. 
 
 Charles himself, however maligned, 
 was not half so evil or cold-hearted as 
 the majority of those courtiers whose 
 vices historians have left unrecorded, not 
 because they were less notorious, but 
 because they were not those of royalty. 
 It is true that the King, like all his 
 race, loved pleasure, and often gave way 
 to the impulse of the moment, sometimes 
 setting aside all thoughts of right or 
 wrong for the gratification of some pass- 
 ing whim. Yet all was not evil, — great 
 and kind actions warmed him to the 
 same disinterestedness, — he would have 
 stripped himself of his coat to clothe a 
 beggar as willingly as spend large sums
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 57 
 
 of public money uiDon some costly trinket 
 for his favourite mistress. 
 
 In after years it became the manner ui 
 the people to hold up the character of the 
 King to public obloquy ; nothing was toe » 
 bad, no sin too heinous to pile upon his 
 name, and to his charge was laid the 
 levity that for many a day prevaded the 
 morals of Eno;land. But this, like manv 
 other judgments of posterity, was 
 utterly wrong. The age made the King, 
 not the King the age, and if vice pre- 
 vailed, which it too truly did, it is foiii 
 calumny to lay it to the King's charge- 
 
 Every country, ancient as well as 
 modern, has its own epochs of particular 
 sin ; England we trust passed hers then, 
 but let not the more favoured and en- 
 
 D 5
 
 58 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 lightened of the present day visit the 
 sins of the country upon the nominal 
 head. Would a lord of a county hold 
 himself accountable for every crime com- 
 mitted in that county; the same with 
 Royalty, it is a King's duty and privilege 
 to set forth good, but certainly he cannot 
 be charged with the burthen of each evil 
 of his time. 
 
 The greatest misfortune in Charles's 
 reign was his openness to flattery ; it was 
 by it Buckingham gained his high post 
 in his master's favour, a post he abused 
 in every possible way, bringing his own 
 vices in such immediate contact with 
 those of the King, as to confound all 
 in an inextricable confusion, a confusion 
 in which the name of Buckingham
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 59 
 
 sinks into oblivion from the too near 
 proximity to royalty. Buckingham, 
 Rochester, and dozens of men of less 
 note, filled the King's too willing ears 
 with the very breath of flattery, blinding 
 him to their own faults, and baring those 
 of others before his eyes. 
 
 The Church might have done much, 
 but the Chui^ch was utterly lost : priests 
 and clergymen, rectors and laymen, 
 wrangled in the most disgraceful manner, 
 passing their time in abusing, denouncing 
 each other from the pulpit and the altar, 
 to such a degree that swords were often 
 drawn, and even used within the precincts 
 of the house of God. 
 
 Verily religion had come to a sad
 
 60 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 pitch when quarrels arose and were 
 settled in a place of worship. May God 
 protect our country from a recurrence of 
 such scenes!
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 61 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close, 
 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; 
 There as I passed with careless steps and slow, 
 The mingled notes came soften'd from below." 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 I HAVE ever looked back upon the peace- 
 ful life I led during the three years passed 
 at the quiet old rectory, as the time 
 of all others for which I should be most 
 thankful, for it was there I learned those 
 lessons which strengthened me in times 
 of difficulty and trial. 
 
 The days may have appeared monoto-
 
 62 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 nous to my mother, but if they did she 
 never willingly let me see she was weary, 
 telling me I would often look back and 
 long with my whole heart for the quiet 
 every-day'the-same sort of life we .had 
 led at the cottage. 
 
 Oh, how little did even she think how 
 prophetic her words were! and it was 
 well for us both that the future was not 
 revealed. 
 
 It would be of little use to tell how we 
 spent our time: we read, worked and 
 visited the poor, Mr. Burnett going about 
 his own business just as if we were not 
 there, only in the evening, when the 
 windows were shut up, he would often 
 bring his great books and writing into the 
 little parlour, and sit quietly by us, some-
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 63 
 
 times reading out pieces of history wliieli 
 seemed to strike him. T learned to love 
 liim more and more every day, and used 
 to sit and watch the movement of his 
 lips as he pored over those mysterious 
 books. 
 
 There was one great event, however, 
 which I looked forward to the whole year, 
 that was a visit from my Lord Clarendon. 
 
 He came in the autumn, and remained 
 two days, and oh ! what happy days they 
 were, for after he had spoken to my 
 mother in the morning, he would carry 
 me off for a long ramble over the Downs, 
 and tell me beautiful stories of the Kings 
 and Queens of England, or of the Cru- 
 saders; sometimes, too, he spoke of the 
 present and of my absent father.
 
 64 MEMOIES OF A 
 
 The first time lie came, lie told me a 
 long story of one he called Lawrence, 
 who had gone all the way to the top 
 room of one of the old London houses, 
 when it was in a sheet of flame, to save 
 a poor widow's bird, who kept crying for 
 it because it was the only thing left 
 which her husband had given her. I 
 thought much of the story, and when- 
 ever I read the name of Lawrence I re- 
 membered it again, wishing I had a 
 brother who had been so brave and kind. 
 
 At the end of the second year, another 
 lord came to visit us — namely, my Lord 
 Sandwich; but he left little joy behind 
 him, my mother weeping whenever I 
 asked her what news he had brought; 
 even Mr. Burnett spoke despondingly of
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 65 
 
 the next year. But time went by, and 
 spring gave me back my long walks and 
 wild flowers again; with autumn came 
 our dear friend, but this time only for 
 a few hours ; he looked pale and worn, 
 and as soon as he departed, my mother 
 lay down on the bed, telling me her 
 head ached ; but when I crept up hours 
 after, she was lying with her hands 
 clasped, and praying. 
 
 Xext day, letters came by a special 
 messenger, and seemed to revive her 
 spirits a little, so that she gave me my 
 lessons, and even walked out. Mr. 
 Burnett sat much with us now, and the 
 sadder my poor mother looked, the 
 merrier he grew, telling me droll stories, 
 and laughing till the tears ran down his
 
 66 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 cheeks ; indeed, one day he actually 
 sang to me a long strange rhyme about 
 dragons and enchantment, in such a 
 cracked shrill voice, and with so many 
 turns, that I sat wrapt in wonder as to 
 how he would ever recover his own soft- 
 toned voice again, and, I fear, much 
 inclined to laugh, had I not remembered 
 how often my mother taught me to res- 
 pect the aged and the gray-haired. 
 
 I kept silence, quite glad when the 
 song ended merrily in a wedding and 
 all sorts of happiness; still, though 
 there was nothing but mirth in it, my 
 mother got up and went to her own 
 room, where I, following soon after, 
 found her reading the Bible, with tears
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 67 
 
 still dropping now and then fi'om her 
 dear eyes. 
 
 I wanted to speak, but could not think 
 what to say ; at last I said — 
 
 " How funny Mr. Burnett is." 
 
 "Is he, my dear?" she said, shutting 
 the precious little book and taking me 
 on her knee. 
 
 " Why, mother, you heard him sing. 
 Did he ever do it before? He hardly 
 ever used to laugh, and now he keeps 
 continually talking and laughing. I do 
 think he's very funny." 
 
 " I do not, my child," said my mother, 
 sighing deeply; "he does it to cheer me; 
 he knows how anxious I am, and, in the 
 kindness of his heart, he would try to 
 rouse me and make me forget. Mary
 
 68 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 dear, I am glad you have spoken of this 
 to me ; I can better say all I wanted, but 
 lacked courage to do. I may have to 
 leave you, my darling, to join your 
 father; and if 1 do, you must stay with 
 Mr. Burnett. Remember, dear, what a 
 debt of love you owe him for his kind- 
 ness to me. There is much danger of 
 another war, and I know not how your 
 father may act ; he is now, you know, in 
 France. If we fight with France, he 
 must either give himself up as a prisoner 
 or join them. In either case, I must go 
 to him. I cannot bear to be here in this 
 dreadful quiet when your father is fight- 
 ing. Oil! Mary, do not sob and break 
 my heart," she said, sobbing herself at 
 the same time, " but let us kneel down
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 69 
 
 and ask the protection of our God. It 
 is His will, my darling, and you know 
 what He does is always for the best." 
 
 I clung to her neck, as we knelt down 
 together, trying to check my sobs, that 
 I might join her prayers; but a cold, 
 heavy hand seemed pressed upon my 
 heart — a strange sound, like the break- 
 ing of waves, came rushing in my ears, 
 so loud as to drown what my dear 
 mother said; yet I felt what she said, 
 for every word made both heart and 
 head throb as if they would burst. 
 After trying to still this throbbing for 
 some time, the pain grew worse and 
 worse, the unseen hand heavier, until it 
 now held my heart and pressed me to 
 the earth. I heard a sort of wild cry,
 
 70 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 and knew it was my voice, though I 
 never meant to utter it. That instant 
 the pain was intense; I felt lifted up 
 higher and higher, until I lost all sense ; 
 and the last I heard of my mother's 
 prayer rang loudly in my ears — " Unite 
 us all in Thy heavenly kingdom, for the 
 dear Saviour's sake."
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 71 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Love is not love 
 Which alters when it alteration finds 
 Or bends with the remover to remove ; 
 Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark. 
 That looks on tempests and is never shaken." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 "Mother, motlier!" were the first words 
 I uttered, when I awoke from what 
 seemed a long night of painful dreams, 
 dreams in which strange faces had come 
 to me, soothing my terrible pain, and 
 though I called for my mother, she 
 had never come to me. I awoke with 
 her name upon my lips, and the image
 
 72 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 of her dear face before me. As I started 
 up I fancied a voice said to nae — " Unite 
 us all in Thy heavenly kingdom, for the 
 dear Saviour's sake." 
 
 With a sickly feeling of awe at some 
 unknown presence, I sank back and 
 listened to the strains of music that were 
 stealing solemnly into the room ; it seemed 
 a hymn, and came so quietly and so 
 sweetly too, that I almost believed I 
 heard music from heaven, and began to 
 tremble with the intensity of my awe: 
 suddenly the music ceased, and I dared 
 to open my eyes and look round me. 
 
 Again I was puzzled ; I knew my room 
 could not have been so changed; in it 
 there were only plain white curtains and 
 one old fashioned w^indow. Here I saw
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 73 
 
 rose hangings and gaily coloured win- 
 dows, through one of which, being partly 
 open, I looked upon a beautiful garden. 
 Surely I had been carried off by some of 
 my fairy friends, and was perhaps in the 
 Queen's Palace. 
 
 I listened eagerly for any token of a 
 companion, and, after what appeared a 
 very long suspense, a gentle rustling 
 greeted my ears. I hid my face trem 
 blingly, for I thought — they are comeing ; 
 I hear the rustling of their wings. To 
 my surprise and great joy a voice I knew 
 well called me, and, looking up, I saw 
 dear Mistress Catherine. 
 
 Oh! how gladly I kissed her, and 
 thanked her for coming, telling her how 
 frightened I had been, and begging her 
 
 VOL I. E
 
 74 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 to send word to my mother to come to 
 me. 
 
 It was then I heard how things had 
 come about, and that my mother was 
 ah^eady with ray father; and, moreover, 
 that during an ilhiess with which I was 
 seized, the very day my mother left, Mr. 
 Burnett, in fulfihnent of a promise he 
 made to her, brought me all the way to 
 London, to place me under Mistress 
 Catherine's own care. 
 
 You may be sure, dear reader, the de- 
 parture of my mother was sad news to 
 me; and it was very bitter to think it 
 might be years ere I could see her 
 again ; but the worst of all was, that she 
 and my father were placed in great peril. 
 
 It was a long time before I could listen
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 75 
 
 with any degree of composure to the kind 
 words Mistress Catherine said to me, but 
 at last my grief exhausted itself, and, 
 wearied out, I listened perforce to the 
 plans she had arranged for me. 
 
 One thins; struck me as beino; some- 
 what strange, namely, the urgent manner 
 in which she impressed upon me, that I 
 was to avoid speaking to any one I might 
 see, or who might question me about my 
 father and mother. All this I promised 
 to do, and she then left me, saying she 
 would send me a companion, who, 
 although unable to speak English, would 
 sing songs for me in her native tongue. 
 I watched Mistress Catherine, and re- 
 membered how, when I first saw her, I 
 had compared her to an angel. I thought 
 
 E 2
 
 76 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 too of my mother, and repeated to myself 
 as many of her dear maxims as I could 
 recall, praying in my heart that I might 
 be able to go to lier soon, but, alas ! in 
 answer to all, I only seemed to hear her 
 lastwords — " Unite us all in Thyheavenly 
 kingdom, for the dear Saviour's sake." 
 * * * 
 
 I was still too weak to move, and when 
 I was permitted, at my own request, to 
 attempt it, I fell down, so I gladly let 
 them lift me back into my weary bed 
 again. 
 
 Day after day still found me a prisoner, 
 and rather a lonely one too, my only 
 visitor, besides Mistress Catherine, being 
 an old, yellow-faced doctor, who came 
 every day, and always said that I was not
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 77 
 
 to talk too much. This was all 1 ever 
 heard him order, though, as he talked 
 very fast in another language, both to 
 Mistress Catherine and Nina, he may 
 have given many more concise directions. 
 One day my friend told me he was the 
 Queen's doctor, and, being a countryman 
 of her own, knew nothing of England. 
 
 Xina, by way of amusing me, used to 
 bring great baskets of flowers to arrange 
 into bouquets for the Court ladies, who, 
 she told me often sent to her for them ; 
 and sometimes too Mistress Catherine let 
 me amuse myself by decking her all over 
 wdth the loveliest of the flowers. It hap- 
 pened, one day, I was engaged with this 
 occupation, and had wreathed her beauti- 
 ful hair with a garland of lilies and rose-
 
 78 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 buds; I was in the act of fastening a 
 bunch upon her breast, when the door 
 flew open, and a gentleman entered. 
 
 Mistress Catherine who was kneeling 
 by the bed sprang hastily to her feet and 
 gazing at him, seemed to forget the 
 flowers with which her hair and hands 
 were full ; the intruder stopped and 
 looked at her with a smile of admiration, 
 nor did I wonder at this, for as she 
 stood in a startled attitude, crowned and 
 encircled with gay flowers, she looked 
 very beautiful. 
 
 Presently her head drooped, and a 
 blush glowed on her cheek, while half 
 bending forward she seemed to wait for 
 him to speak, but he only held out his 
 arms calling her by her name, and utter-
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 79 
 
 ing it in a tone of such pathos that I 
 thought he was asking her pardon, nor 
 when I looked at him did I wonder she 
 seemed so easier to fors^ive or throw 
 herself joyfully on his beast. I thought of 
 my fiither and mother, and losing sight 
 of the present hi the past, I turned away, 
 thinking Mistress Catherine might not 
 like me to look on ; but hearing them 
 converse in a low tone curiosity over- 
 came me, and I looked again ; as I did so 
 the gentleman's eye caught mine and 
 laughing at the puzzled questioning gaze 
 I put on, I heard him mention my name, 
 but Mistress Catherine told him I was 
 not to speak, at which he only laughed 
 and asked me hovv I liked such a strict 
 jailor.
 
 80 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Just then a bell sounded, making liini 
 utter an exclamation of answer and con- 
 tinue his conversation in a quicker tone ; 
 but the bell rang again, and this time he 
 rose, and saying — 
 
 " I am less my own master than any 
 of my servants; I wish the Ministry 
 were all with the devil!" At which 
 Mistress Catherine pretended to look 
 grave, and whispered something in his 
 ear. Before leaving the room he brought 
 her up to my bedside ; for about a minute 
 they stood looking rather sadly in my 
 face, and then he whispered, though loud 
 enough for me to hear, 
 
 " liow^ like she is to her father!" 
 
 She looked in his face with a smile, 
 saying—
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 81 
 
 " Tell lier so, Charles." 
 
 And he did so, patting my head ; then 
 taking one of the flowers I still held he 
 said it should be his badge that night, 
 but before he reached the door he threw 
 away the flower saying something so 
 angrily that I could hardly believe it was 
 the same man. 
 
 '' You are soon beginning to dispense 
 thorns with your roses fair lady," he 
 said holding up his hand. " Give me one 
 of yours, Kate? thou hast no thorns for 
 me." 
 
 Mistress Catherine did so, speaking at 
 the same time in such a happy tone that 
 though she spoke in her own language, 
 which I did not understand, I knew she 
 must be telling him how beloved he was. 
 
 E 5
 
 82 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 i^fter he had gone away I did not disturb 
 lier happiness, but let her sit quiet with 
 ]ier head rested on one hand and holding 
 a knot of ribbon he had dropped in the 
 other ; she sat thus a long time, so long 
 that the sun had ceased to shine, and the 
 golden light fled from the sky. 
 
 Alas! with it the happy gleam faded 
 (roni my dear friend's cheek, and with 
 the dim twilight came a sad and W'Caried 
 expression. Sighing deeply, she rose, 
 saying as she stooped to kiss me — 
 
 " Good night, my child, the sun never 
 shines long together." 
 
 She then went away, leaving me full of 
 conjectures as to why she looked so 
 mournful, with many other whys and 
 wonders about everything.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 83 
 
 I went to sleep at last, and I dreamt 
 of fairies and fairy land, that Mistress 
 Catherine was the queen of their bright 
 realm, and took me and my mother 
 to live with her. Oh! what glorious 
 things those dreams of childhood are, all 
 sunshine and brightness. 
 
 Alas ! far different is it with us in after 
 life, when sleep to a troubled mind is even 
 more painful than waking, haunted as it 
 is by dreams of other days. How strange 
 and sad they seem ! they are like medicine 
 of the soul, for who could know the value 
 of true happiness if life had no sorrow? 
 and sorrow must be remembered to 
 enable us to enjoy the present. If the 
 heart cannot raise itself above grief and 
 understand the necessity of such trials, it
 
 84 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 is not worthy of the happiness God 
 sends, to cure the wounds he inflicts. 
 * * * * 
 
 My readers must not think that I did 
 not weary very much to leave the cham- 
 ber, pretty as it was, in which they 
 saw fit to confine me ; nor was I so 
 wanting in curiosity as not to try all I 
 could to find out why I had been brought 
 away from the old cottage, and where I 
 now was; all, however, I could discover, 
 was that I was near London, and even 
 within the precincts of the palace. 
 
 Once or twice I ventured to ask 
 Mistress Catherine to tell me more ; but 
 she only called me an inquisitive little 
 monkey, and, when I persisted in asking, 
 said my mother had told me all she
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 85 
 
 wished me to know ; so I was obliged 
 to be patient, and treasure up my ques- 
 tions against the time when I should 
 return to Mr. Burnett, that being one 
 of the promises which were held 
 out as a reward for my present obe- 
 dience. 
 
 One day, to my great joy, she told 
 me to prepare for a drive, and I was 
 carried down to a fine glass and gilt 
 coach, drawn by six horses, with richer 
 trappings than I had ever seen. Into 
 this Mistress Catherine also got, bring- 
 ing with her two ladies, who never 
 spoke except when she addressed them. 
 I wondered much, remembering to have 
 seen one of them very merry with my 
 father, when she, with other ladies, came
 
 86 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 to visit us; and how angry my mother 
 had been, calling her a forward and 
 malapert woman — even reproving my 
 father for paying her so much atten- 
 tion. 
 
 This all came to my memory as we 
 drove along, and made me look hard 
 at her. Mistress Catherine noticing this, 
 asked me why I stared so much, and I 
 was very nearly repeating my thoughts, 
 but thinking better of it, held my tongue, 
 only saying she was a very pretty lady, 
 at which she smiled, and said I might 
 look at her as much as I pleased.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 
 
 87 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " That was the first sound in the song of love, 
 Scarce more than silence is, and yet a sound. 
 Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings 
 Of that mysterious instrument, the soul, 
 And play the prelude of our fate. We hear 
 The voice prophetic, and are not alone." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 Our drive lasted a long while, and I was 
 getting tired of tlie heat and dust, when 
 we stopped. Mistress Catherine bade * 
 me alight, as she meant to walk under 
 the trees. Overjoyed at the thought of 
 treading on the fresh green turf again, I 
 sprang eagerly out, and would have
 
 88 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 fkllen, from weakness, if one of the ladies 
 had not caught me. Seeing I could not 
 walk, they made me sit under one of 
 the thickest trees, and the prettiest lady 
 volunteering to stay, Mistress Catherine 
 took the arm of the other and walked 
 away. Presently, an old man came along 
 the wide path, and, with great joy, I 
 recognized my dear Mr. Burnett. 
 
 I was soon in his arms, crying with 
 happiness, and asking about my mother, 
 from whom he had heard very lately; 
 bidding him take me home as soon as 
 I was able, fearing I might be a burthen 
 on Mistress Catherine; and telling me 
 (which made my heart tenfold lighter) 
 that my father w^as in great expectation 
 of getting a high command under the
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 89 
 
 King of Portugal, which, being the 
 Queen's native country, was a haven to 
 her friends. 
 
 He finished by teUing me that I ought 
 to thank the good Queen for all she had 
 done for me, and I promised to do so if 
 1 ever saw her, though I thought I 
 should be very frightened in speaking 
 to such a great personage. 
 
 Mr. Burnett laughed, saying I would 
 o-ain couraQ:e when the time came; and 
 then he told me how he had left his old 
 house, to live in London, and gave me 
 a description of his present employment ; 
 but we were soon interrupted by being 
 informed that Mistress Catherine was 
 waiting for us; upon which he led me 
 to the coach and uncovered his head,
 
 90 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 kissing her hand as he said some- 
 thing in a low tone, which I supposed 
 was " Farewell." 
 
 All the way back I sat thinking of 
 what Mr. Burnett had told me, and 
 longed to he alone with Mistress Cathe- 
 rine, that I might tell her how good the 
 Queen had been to my father. My pa- 
 tience was at length rewarded, and I had 
 just concluded my story, when her hus- 
 band entered. She made me begin again, 
 and go over the whole, particularly about 
 my fear of having to speak to the Queen; 
 at this he laughed loudly, and looked at 
 me so strangely, that I almost wondered 
 whether he was in his right mind, as I 
 could not see anything so very absurd in
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 91 
 
 a little girl like me being afraid to speak 
 to a Qiieeu. 
 
 One day, after Mr. Burnett had paid 
 me a long visit, I was surprised by Mr. 
 Charles entering alone; he had some 
 papers in his hand, and, without taking 
 any notice of me, sat down and looked 
 them over with great attention, then, 
 rumpling them up in his hand, he turned 
 abruptly towards me, and bade me call 
 his wife. 
 
 Finding T did not know where to look 
 for her, he ordered me to sing for his 
 amusement, as his temper was slightly 
 ruffled — (I thought more than slightly.) 
 The only thing I could sing at the time 
 was a little French song Mistress Cathe- 
 rine herself had taught me. At first he
 
 92 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 did not pay any attention, but after I had 
 ceased singing, he asked me to repeat it, 
 muttering— ''Ah! poor Catherine." 
 
 He then leant down his head and 
 seemed to go to sleep, so when Mi stress 
 Catherine came she looked, I thought, 
 scarcely pleased to see him there, and 
 went up to awake him ; he started 
 up with an oath, bat seeing who it 
 was, laughed, and begged her pardon; 
 he then led her to the window, speak- 
 ing in a quick, passionate tone. I saw 
 lier colour rise and fall, and once or 
 twice heard my own name mentioned. 
 After a time he turned to me, and asked 
 if I should like to go to Mr. Burnett, and 
 live with him, until my mother came,
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 93 
 
 which might be very soon, as the King 
 had now pardoned my father. 
 
 The reader may beheve how my heart 
 throbbed with dehght at such joyful 
 news ; indeed, I did not know what I vv^as 
 doing, until he said — 
 
 '■' By Gad ! the child is crying, and I 
 meant her to laugh. How soon the con- 
 trary nature of woman comes out, tliough 
 I have never seen it in you, my svv^eet 
 Kate; you are one in a thousand;" and 
 he put his hand fondly on her head, 
 looking into her eyes with a gaze as 
 tender as her own. 
 
 After staying and talking some time, 
 he went away, leaving Mistress Catherine 
 all smiles and happiness. 
 
 I was a little startled when she told
 
 94 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 me I must go to Mr. Burnett next day, 
 and wondered why such a hasty arrange- 
 ment had been made, but the only expla- 
 nation Mistress Catherine would give me 
 was that she was probably going on a 
 journey. 
 
 The following morning Mr. Burnett 
 came and took me away^ to a great 
 gloomy mansion which he inhabited, and 
 I almost shuddered as the door rolled 
 back with a grating sound, and disclosed 
 a large dark hall, which, being lighted 
 from above, looked particularly sombre. 
 The only pleasant thing was a comely- 
 looking dame, who came forward to bid 
 me welcome, and whom Mr. Burnett 
 introduced as his housekeeper, Dame 
 Margery. She immediately took me
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 95 
 
 under her care, and led me to a chamber, 
 which she said was to be mine. 
 
 After taking some refreshment, more to 
 satisfy her kindness than from feeling the 
 want of it, I went out into a large garden, 
 enclosed by immense high walls ; there I 
 found a perfect wilderness of beautiful 
 flowers, which, fi^om being untrained 
 for a long time, had grown into such 
 tangled masses, that in some places even 
 the walks were rendered impassable; 
 this, to my mind, was more lovely than 
 all the stiff regularity of the gardens I 
 had been accustomed to see, and I im- 
 mediately began to gather a nosegay, 
 intending to while away an hour or 
 two in decorating my chamber. Dame 
 Margery now joined me, bringing two
 
 96 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 or three large vases which she said she 
 wanted filled with flowers for the recep- 
 tion chamber. So I went to work, and 
 when they were filled followed her into 
 a large room which did not seem in 
 keeping with the rest of the house, — the 
 walls were of beautifully carved oak, 
 which -was shown off to advantage by 
 the rays of the evening sun ; the ceiling 
 was also oak, but studded all over with 
 coats of arms done in colours, which 
 made it appear very gay. The furniture 
 was of carved oak, too, with purple vel- 
 vet cushions, and looked as if part of 
 the room, it was so massive; the win- 
 dows were large and in arched recesses, 
 and the light coming through the bril- 
 liant stained glass threw shadows of
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 97 
 
 various colours in every direction, — alto- 
 gether, I thought it the finest apartment 
 I had ever seen. 
 
 I amused myself for some time in ex- 
 amining everything in the house; and 
 going back to the reception-room, I 
 found a fire had been lighted in the 
 large fireplace, so 1 seated myself by it, 
 and gave myself up to my favourite 
 amusement of story telling. 
 
 In the middle of my dreams I fell 
 asleep, but woke soon, trembling and 
 terrified, gasping for breath with a sen- 
 sation of drowning, which was so vivid 
 that I sprang to my feet and called for 
 help. Even when awake and conscious 
 I was safe, the same sensation of horror 
 came over me twice again, then passed 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 away, and I sat down to try and reason 
 myself into tranquillity, purposely turn- 
 ing my back upon the fire that I might 
 watch the shadows which flickered on 
 the wall, as the flames at one moment 
 lighted up the room and in another left 
 me in total darkness. 
 
 I was a2:ain in the midst of dreams, 
 when a loud knocking in the hall an- 
 nounced, I hoped, the return of Mr. 
 Burnett, so I crouched back in my large 
 chair that I might surprise him when he 
 entered. The next moment all my visions 
 of fairy knights seemed to be realised in 
 the person of him who now entered, and 
 I sat, almost afraid I was dreaming 
 again, holding my breath, least I should 
 be discovered.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 99 
 
 The stranger, thinking there was no 
 one in the room, seemed at first irreso- 
 lute, and even half turned to go, when a 
 second thought appeared to strike him, 
 and throwing aside his hat he sat down 
 near the fire. 
 
 I cannot attempt to describe him; 
 there was a light thrown on his face by 
 the warm blaze that lent almost a glory 
 to his handsome features ; and my reader 
 would laugh were I to explain the effect 
 that face had on my already excited 
 imagination. At last, thinking I would 
 like to speak to him, I got up; he 
 started, and springing to his feet bowed 
 very low. 
 
 I, remembering the manner in which 
 my mother used to receive her guests, 
 
 f2
 
 1 00 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 returned it with a grave curtsey. I saw 
 hira smile, and blushed painfully as I 
 thought he was laughing at me; but, 
 recovering myself, I took a chair, while 
 he still remained standing before me; 
 for some time I gazed at him in silence. 
 I shall never forget that face ; it beamed 
 upon me through years of trial and 
 affliction — no cloud ever obscured that 
 light— it shone on, ever on, steady 
 and unwavering in life, and became 
 perfect ineternal glory after his unfor- 
 tunate end. 
 
 Most of us have some beacon which 
 lights them through the darker hours of 
 life, but few have one so bright as that 
 it pleased God to give me. He was the 
 first to break the silence, asking pardon
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 101 
 
 for his hastyintrusion, and excused himself 
 by saying he expected to find a friend 
 there, mentioning my mother's name. 
 
 " She is my mother," I exclaimed ; 
 then blushins: and confused at havino; 
 spoken, I shrank back, waiting for him 
 to answer. 
 
 x^fter some time, I looked up ; he was 
 still gazing at me earnestly ; and when I 
 stammered out some question as to his 
 acquaintance with my mother, I saw ho 
 had noticed my confusion as he merely 
 answered my question, and then said 
 that if I wished he would leave me and 
 return again ; but I, thoroughly ashamed 
 of my own timidity, managed to re- 
 quest him to remain, and then gradually
 
 102 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 curiosity overcame shyness, and I began 
 to speak to him of my mother. 
 
 He drew nearer ere he answered, and 
 learning over me he explained that he 
 was secretary to my Lord Clarendon, from 
 whom he now came, that he had known 
 my dear mother for many years, and 
 loved her as he said all who knew her did. 
 He had chosen the right cord to touch my 
 heart, and I spoke to him quite openly 
 and easily, even begging him to lay aside 
 liis cloak, which he did, thanking me for 
 my kindness. 
 
 We spoke at last of my father and the 
 King's affection for him, and of his 
 inability to oppose the feeling of the 
 people, and I now heard that a great fleet 
 was to sail, commanded by the Duke of
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 103 
 
 York, against the people of Holland. My 
 new Mend laughed much at hearing 
 my fears, ridiculing what he called my 
 " woman's weakness," playing with his 
 sword knot while I answered warmly 
 that it was not for myself I. feared, but 
 for those brave men who went forth to 
 shed their blood for my country's safety 
 and honour. 
 
 The smile with which he had looked 
 at me faded away, and in its place came 
 a grave, stern expression, as he leant 
 down and said — 
 
 " You must be a soldier's wife, fair lady. 
 Heaven send some noble heart to win 
 such a kindred spirit I" 
 
 Then he was silent, and sat looking
 
 104 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 fixedly at the fire until I asked him 
 abruptly if he were a soldier? 
 
 " No, lady," he exclaimed, " would to 
 Heaven I was!" and the fire was not 
 brighter than the flame which flashed in 
 his dark eyes. " No, lady, I am not, but 
 I would give all I possess — home, every- 
 thing — to lead one charge. To die a sol- 
 dier's death is worth living for, but I — I 
 have no such prospect, my life is a 
 peaceful one, my death will never be on 
 a battle-field." Then he muttered as if 
 thinking aloud — 
 
 "Perhaps on the scaflTold, and then 
 where are my dreams of glory? no one 
 will speak of a death on the scaffold 
 as you, lady, spoke but now of a sol- 
 dier's,"
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 105 
 
 "Except it were that of a patriot or 
 martyr, and then," (I forgot I was not 
 only thinking,) ^' then no battle-field can 
 shed a greater glory or spread a fairer 
 winding sheet, no shout of victory will 
 raise the triumphant soul more proudly 
 than the groan that bursts fi'om tlie 
 pitying throng, and surely no knell can 
 be so sweet as the welcoming shout of 
 the angels that wait to bear the patriot's 
 or martyr's soul to Heaven. I have 
 dreamt of such a death, and if I were a 
 man, I would rather die thus, than fall at 
 the head of a conquering army." 
 
 I paused, breathless and trembling, as I 
 thought of my grandfather, and hiding 
 my face in my hands, tried to overcome 
 
 f5
 
 106 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 my excitement, which had, it seems to mc 
 110 w, lent new force to my tongue. 
 
 When I again looked up he was stand- 
 ing before me, a light sparkling in his 
 eyes, but a troubled expression on his 
 face. He took my hand and said — 
 
 " You know not all I have felt while 
 you spoke, dear lady ; I little thought to 
 hear such words when I saw your young 
 face, but now they are mine, and I shall 
 never forget them. If I die (and one 
 cannot count long on life in these troubled 
 times) remember you have taught me 
 how to die." 
 
 He paused in deep emotion, and bend- 
 ing respectfully on one knee, kissed my 
 hand, and then turning away he placed 
 himself again by the fire, and sat buried
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 107 
 
 in deep thought until roused by a bell 
 ringing. He sprang up, involuntarily 
 laying his hand upon his sword. 
 
 My fears, which in the nervous state 
 I was in were easily aroused, proved 
 groundless, and changed rather to intense 
 disappointment as Mr. Burnett entered 
 alone, and instantly told me that my dear 
 mother had been detained for a few days. 
 In spite of the presence of a stranger tears 
 would come, and I was much relieved 
 when he advised me to retire, promising to 
 see me again in my own room, which pro- 
 mise after a long time he fulfilled, and 
 diverted my thoughts to a different subject 
 by telling me of the sad havoc the plague 
 was making in the densely populated 
 parts of the city, that he feared it
 
 108 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 would not long be confined to those 
 localities, and that everywhere he heard 
 the same opinion uttered with lowering 
 brows and forboding faces. 
 
 After saying a short prayer he left me, 
 and happily being very weary I soon fell 
 asleep and forgot all my troubles and 
 anxieties that had weighed upon my 
 heart.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 109 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " The Demon of the Plagiie hath cast 
 
 From his hot wing a deadlier blast, 
 * * * ♦ 
 
 So quick that every living thing 
 
 Of human shape, touched by his wing, 
 
 Like plants where the Simoom hath past. 
 
 At once falls black and withering."' 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Alas ! and alas ! for human hopes. 
 " Man proposes, God disposes." Amen. 
 So be it, Lord ! Thy ways are not as 
 our ways, but Thou orderest all things 
 in wisdom and kindness. 
 
 Even yet I dare not dwell upon the 
 next few days.
 
 110 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 The dreadful watching, and at last the 
 reality ! What, though years and years 
 have passed over my head, leaving it 
 bowed down and white, long before age 
 would have done its work ; what, though 
 other griefs have torn my heart, and 
 almost dried up the fountain of my tears, 
 I never forgot that first agony — the 
 dreadful reality of feeling that I was 
 motherless ; but so it was. 
 
 The ship in which she was returning 
 had been driven on the rocks, and all 
 hands, save one (a poor sailor), had 
 perished. This happened the very night 
 I was watching so hopefully for her 
 arrival, and a creeping sensation of 
 horror thrilled my heart as I thought of 
 my dream.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. Ill 
 
 Mr. Burnett brought me the sad news, 
 and I can still fancy I see his scared 
 face, as he crossed my chamber and 
 took me in his arms without uttering a 
 word; but a voice of thunder seemed 
 to tell her fate, and I heard the word 
 '' drowned" boom in my ears; nay, even 
 though I pressed my hands over them, 
 it still rang loudly, and I heard it 
 shrieked on and on till I fainted. 
 
 I did not return to reason until 
 aroused by the tears of Mistress Cathe- 
 rine; and then I awoke, perfectly con- 
 scious of what had happened, and flew 
 like a bird to her breast. After giving 
 my tears time to lose their first strength, 
 she spoke to me, bidding me try to be 
 calm, and even thankful that one so
 
 112 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 unfit to buffet with the world had been 
 taken away from its trials ; but I could 
 not then thank God for depriving me 
 of my mother, though in after years I 
 looked upon it in a different light. 
 
 When she left me, Mr. Burnett came, 
 and read to me for some time, ending by 
 telling me that my father had obtained 
 permission to join the fleet under the 
 Duke of York. This was a great com- 
 fort ; for though many were the chances 
 against him, yet it was favourable, 
 inasmuch as he was now in a position 
 to return to England. 
 
 We were one day talking of my dear 
 mother, when a message came that my 
 Lord Clarendon's secretary was below.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 113 
 
 His name brought back the fulness of 
 my loss, yet I felt glad when Mr. Bur- 
 nett told me I might see him ; so I 
 followed, not daring to look at my black 
 dress as I passed the long glass. 
 
 There was a strange swimming sen- 
 sation in my head as I moved, and when 
 I reached the door I paused, irresolute, 
 almost afraid to enter, and stood holding 
 the latch. Hearing Mr. Lawrence say — 
 '' So very young, and yet so womanly ! 
 Poor child ! I wish I could comfort 
 her !" T entered, and he started forward, 
 saying — 
 
 " I did not expect you to come, my 
 dear child ! " 
 
 He had called me " dear lady" before, 
 so I now saw he had been deceived in
 
 114 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 my appearance ; and, kind as his words 
 were, it did not altogether please me to 
 be addressed as a child. 
 
 Mr. Burnett took my hand and led 
 me to a chair, where I sat listening to 
 their conversation ; and, somehow, the 
 quiet tone in which Lawrence spoke 
 allayed my agitation, and when he took 
 leave I felt happier than if I had listened 
 to Mr. Burnett alone. 
 
 He told me, in parting, he would be 
 grateful if I looked upon him as a 
 brother, and would let him visit me 
 again whenever he could get away from 
 his duties, to which the reader may 
 believe I gave a willing assent. 
 
 That night the plague, which was 
 hourly increasing, made dreadful havoc.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 115 
 
 and poor Mr. Burnett was out all the 
 next day. I knew he was visiting the 
 poor dying creatures, because, on return- 
 ing, he Avent direct to his chamber, 
 changing everything, and taking a bath 
 before he came near me. 
 
 Day after day he went and came, and 
 each day he gave me more fearfid ac- 
 counts of the sickness. The verv air 
 seemed to grow oppressive and heavy — 
 the scourge kept creeping on into the 
 open and healthiest parts — one by one 
 houses were deserted, and at last the 
 wealthy population, following the example 
 of the Court, fled. 
 
 During this time Mr. Burnett received 
 several letters, beo:2:ino: him to take me 
 to the country; he gave them to me,
 
 116 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 and told me I should go, but he could 
 not; when I asked why he could not go 
 too, he said — 
 
 " My dear, I may not leave my poor 
 dying people to perish without a minister 
 of the Gospel." 
 
 " Then I shall not go," I said; but 
 it was with the utmost difficulty I could 
 get him to listen to me. 
 
 He made use of every argument he 
 could think of, pointing out all the hor- 
 rors; but this only strengthened my 
 determination not to desert him, so I 
 acted for the first time against his wishes. 
 Next morning it became known that Mr. 
 Burnett visited the plague-stricken; so a 
 red cross was marked upon the door and
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 117 
 
 the servants, except Lisette, my new 
 maid, left us. Even Margery went. 
 
 Mr. Burnett going out one morning, 
 kissed me, saying, " God bless you." The 
 manner in which he said it, and the fear of 
 his taking the plague when absent, made 
 me run after him and ask him to take me 
 with him. To my surprise, he said — 
 
 " Thank you, my dear, you may come 
 with me if you desire it." 
 
 I flew to my room, and putting on a 
 dark serge cloak and petticoat, I soon 
 overtook him. With my hand upon his 
 arm I walked quickly through the dis- 
 mal streets, and, after many turnings, 
 came to that portion of the town where 
 he had most visits to pay. We went 
 from house to house administering medi-
 
 118 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 cine, sometimes arriving too late, and 
 sometimes only in time to hear their 
 dying groans. 
 
 It was a terrible day ! and as I stood 
 looking on, trembling and horror-stricken 
 at the poverty and misery, I learnt a 
 lesson I have never forgotten. 
 
 After we had visited a great many, we 
 turned to go home, he taking my hand. 
 For some distance we walked on silently, 
 and ere we reached home darkness had 
 set in. As I ascended the stairs he said, 
 looking earnestly at me — 
 
 " Mary, you never saw misery before; 
 do you think your own trials heavy now?" 
 
 '' Oh no, no," I cried, bursting into a 
 flood of tears. " I never thought of the
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 119 
 
 sick and poor before ; oli ! let me always 
 help you !' 
 
 " God bless you, my child, you shall 
 do so;" and he laid his hand upon my 
 head as I involuntarily knelt down. 
 
 When I arose I saw tears were in his 
 eyes, but I was calm, though bewildered 
 too, for I felt I had a difficult task before 
 me, and one of overwhelming importance. 
 Life had suddenly become a reality, and 
 the future seemed far too short for all that 
 now appeared to me to be done. I lay 
 awake long that night, turning over and 
 over in my mind what I should do, so as to 
 assist the poor people as much as possi- 
 ble. I thought of the poor troubled 
 faces, and heard again in the silence of 
 my own room the sobs of one poor mo-
 
 120 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 ther who had just seen her last child 
 die. 
 
 Starting from my bed, I fell upon my 
 knees and prayed long and fervently for 
 health and strength to help these poor peo- 
 ple. Rising refreshed and tranquillised, 
 I lay down and fell into a quiet sleep, 
 dreaming of my mother, that she was 
 standing by me and pointing to a bright 
 above, so dazzling in brightness that I 
 could not look at it. 
 
 * * -» * 
 
 Day after day I went with Mr. Bur- 
 nett, and Lisette used to look at me in 
 agony, though, poor faithful thing, she 
 never wished to go away, but sat the 
 long dreary day watching for my return, 
 and ready to refresh us after our day's 
 work was over.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 121 
 
 Thus a fortnight passed, and during 
 that short time I stored up so many 
 lessons of patience, faith, and trust, that I 
 could not but feel glad of it, although it 
 cost me much to learn. They remained 
 graven on my heart and there ever after 
 I found an antidote against every trial. 
 
 I have often told my young friends of 
 the sad things I saw during the plague ; 
 but, in case I shall some day write them 
 down, I shall not dwell upon them now, 
 except one case, which as it remained for 
 long the brightest example I had known, 
 I shall indulge myself in relating here. 
 
 Mr. Burnett usually avoided all the 
 large streets, keeping along by-ways 
 and alleys, until we reached the district 
 near the wharf One day, however, 
 
 VOL I. G
 
 122 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 being later tlian usual, we took a short 
 cut through what had been a fashionable 
 square, but now, to all appearance, per- 
 fectly deserted. We were hastening 
 along, when a cry caught our ears; both 
 of us paused and listened; we heard 
 the wail again, seemingly proceeding from 
 one of the largest mansions. Mr. Burnett 
 hesitated a moment, then ran up the 
 steps, and attempted to open the door; 
 after one or two efforts, not being barred, 
 it yielded, and we found ourselves at the 
 door of a beautiful hall, but to our horror 
 there was a dead body lying across the 
 threshold. 
 
 Mr. Burnett stooped down. I saw him 
 start, and lay his hand on the breast of 
 the man, whom, by his rich dress, I at
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 123 
 
 once saw was a gentleman of sta- 
 tion. 
 
 " Alas ! too late," he cried, as he stood 
 up, still gazing at the livid and distorted 
 face. 
 
 Then, again, the cry came echoing 
 through the empty rooms, with a sound 
 so mournful and unearthly, that I shud- 
 dered, and drew near my dear friend. 
 He saw my weakness, and said — 
 
 " Fear not, God is with you." 
 
 I felt strong enough to follow up the 
 wide staircase with tolerable steadiness, 
 guided by the piercing wail from above. 
 
 At the end of a passage, where an open 
 door led to a bedchamber, there, stretched 
 on a white coverlid, lay a gray-haired old 
 man and woman, both dead ; and a pale- 
 
 g2
 
 124 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 faced child lay wailing close to the cold 
 breast of the woman. I uttered a cry, 
 and sprang forward, but nearly stumbled 
 over another corpse; it was that of a 
 young girl, who lay half concealed by the 
 drapery of the bed. 
 
 I said a corpse, but she was not quite 
 dead, and made a faint effort to rise, as 
 the sound of my voice reached her. 
 
 Oh ! never, never, shall I forget the 
 gleam of wild happiness that seemed 
 actually to dart from her eyes, as, with 
 one of those fearful efforts which those 
 who know death, say so often precedes 
 the last flicker of life, she sprang up, 
 and, pointing to the bed, exclaimed — 
 
 " Save my child ; my husband left to- 
 day to seek help." Then her eyes
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 125 
 
 dilated, and she stood pointing to the 
 door. " Oh ! my God ! he is gone too." 
 I started, expecting to see some one, 
 but there was only the long passage. 
 Wlien I turned the poor thing was 
 lying across the bed, quite dead. 
 
 Mr. Burnett took up the child, and 
 gave it me. I carried it into another 
 room, where I found the remains of a fire 
 still smouldering, and sat down to warm 
 the poor little thing, trying to keep back 
 my tears, which, however, came spite of 
 all my efforts. 
 
 Mr. Burnett followed in a short time, 
 and stood looking on He laid his hand 
 upon the child's head, and said — 
 
 " Poor thing, thou liadst best have 
 gone too."
 
 126 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 '' It is going," I said, pointing to its 
 glazed eyes and darkening lips. I won- 
 dered when I saw how relieved he 
 seemed, and, bidding me stay there whilst 
 he went in search of some one to bury 
 the dead bodies, he left me alone, and thus 
 I sat till the poor little child sobbed its 
 soul away, and I wept over it as if it had 
 been my own. 
 
 Mr. Burnett came at last, bringing men 
 who put the bodies into one great coffin, 
 and left it nailed up. He then locked the 
 doors, taking the great key, at which I 
 did not wonder, as the house seemed full 
 of rich plate and pictures. 
 
 Next day Mr. Burnett was met upon the 
 threshold by an old servant, w^ho, weeping 
 bitterly, said he had but just returned,
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 127 
 
 having been sent by his mistress upon a 
 distant errand, but which he found was only 
 her kind way of keeping him out of danger. 
 
 From him Mr. Burnett heard, that 
 when the plague broke out the young 
 lady was very ill, being close to her con- 
 finement ; that her husband was in Ireland 
 with his troop, and as all their servants 
 fled there was no one left with her and 
 her child, only a year old, but her father 
 and mother ; her baby was born, and died 
 the next day ; she became endowed with 
 supernatural strength, doing everything; 
 at last, under pretence of sending a letter 
 to her husband, she persuaded the old 
 man to take this long journey. 
 
 '' Your master must have come unex- 
 pectedly," said Mr. Burnett.
 
 128 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 " Oh, God! he gone too," exclaimed 
 the poor man. " Oh, sir, what am I to 
 do now ? All, all gone. You would know 
 them, sir," he said, eagerly looking up. 
 
 " Yes, my friend, I knew your master, 
 and trust he is in Heaven." 
 
 " Amen, amen !" sobbed the faithful 
 servant, and so we parted. 
 
 I shall tell no more tales of the plague 
 now, beyond what took place in our own 
 residence, for you can hardly suppose, 
 that three of us should escape it alto- 
 gether ; strange as it may seem, and as it 
 did seem to me, I was the one who es- 
 caped. 
 
 One morning, Mr. Burnett and Lisette 
 were laid prostrate with what I too 
 plainly saw was the first threatening of
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 129 
 
 the plague. I cannot tell liow I felt. I 
 remember becoming very cold and sick, 
 and for a moment the thrill of horror 
 made me think I too was stricken, but it 
 was only fear. 
 
 I thought that day the longest I had 
 ever passed ; it was growing dark wlien, 
 leaving Mr. Burnett sleeping, I stole to 
 the open window, and stood breathing 
 the fresh air ; seeing the red reflection of 
 the setting sun, shining upon some glass, 
 I felt an intense longing to look at the 
 horizon, which I knew from this sign 
 must be one sheet of crimson and gold, 
 so I went down to the great drawing- 
 room. 
 
 The blinds were all drawn close down, 
 but being those called Venetian, I could 
 
 a 5
 
 130 MEMOIES OF A 
 
 see a little. I forgot sun and sky ; nay, 
 for a time, even my distress, in contem- 
 plating a man who stood under a porch 
 opposite, and seemed to watch our house. 
 
 What mattered it that the hat was 
 drawn down to conceal the face, and that 
 a dark cloak enveloped his whole figure. 
 
 I knew who it was at the first glance, 
 and felt a sense of protection I had 
 once found before, wrap itself round my 
 heart. 
 
 I was on the point of throwing open 
 the window, when I remembered the 
 plague, and an invisible power seemed to 
 hold back my hand. " Why should I 
 bring him here to die?" 
 
 The tears ran down my cheeks as I 
 stood terribly tempted, on the one hand
 
 LADt IN WAITING. 131 
 
 my duty to liim, on the other a sense of 
 loneHness, want of comfort, and my own 
 weak heart. I saw him take out a book, 
 write a few words, and tear the leaf out. 
 He then walked across the street, and the 
 great bell rang once, nay thrice, still I 
 stood clasping my hands and breathing 
 quick. Again the bell rang, and some- 
 how it had a reproachful sound, but de- 
 termined not to heed it, I stood resolute, 
 and saw him cross the street again, to his 
 old position, there folding his cloak round 
 him, he lay down upon the stone step, 
 as if resolved to await the answer to his 
 summons. 
 
 I do not think I ever before or after 
 shed such bitter tears, or felt so utterly 
 weak and wretched as I did then. T
 
 132 MExMOIRS OF A 
 
 could have knelt there for hours, had not 
 a low call brought me back to a remem- 
 brance of those whom God had put under 
 my care. 
 
 I only looked once more across the 
 street, thinking I might never see him 
 again, and then hurried away. 
 
 Mr. Burnett had awoke from his sleep 
 better than he dared to expect, and 
 when I got to his bedside, was praying 
 earnestly. He gave a cry of joy when I 
 entered, whispering that he feared I had 
 been taken away. 
 
 When I told him of my distress, asking 
 him what I should do, at first he did not 
 vuiderstand, but when he did, he soothed 
 me, saying I was a good girl, but that 1
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 133 
 
 should bid Lawrence welcome, as he had 
 already breathed the plague. 
 
 I do not know why I clasped the old 
 man's hand, and thanked him so fer- 
 vently, but he seemed even in his agony 
 to know me better than I knew myself, 
 for he smiled faintly at me, and made an 
 effort to lay his hand on my head. 
 
 When I had arranged him, and seen 
 that poor Lisette was sleeping the dull, 
 heavy sleep, which was sometimes the 
 most fatal sign, I once more flew to the 
 window, which this time T opened, and 
 backoned to Lawrence. He sprang up, 
 and the next moment his voice sounded 
 in my ears, but I was trembling so vio- 
 lently I could not understand him, and 
 said,
 
 134 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 " What liave you come here for!" 
 
 It sounded cold and harsh, yet it was 
 all I could say. 
 
 If I had not felt m my own heart that 
 he had come to be with us in life and 
 death, I would perhaps have been able to 
 speak; as it was the effort was almost 
 too great. 
 
 I saw him take off his hat and stand 
 bareheaded in the dim evening light, and 
 say — " I came to serve you, Mary." 
 There was a coldness and reproach in 
 the tone that went to my heart ; and now 
 my only thought was to show him I was 
 not ungrateful. 
 
 I ran down stairs and unclosed the 
 great door; as I did so I saw something 
 white lying at my feet, it was the leaf
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 135 
 
 which Lawrence had pushed under the 
 door, and this he picked up as he en- 
 tered, I thought looking pleased. 
 
 Without a word, I led the way to Mr. 
 Burnett's room, and finding him again 
 asleep, went on and visited poor Lisette. 
 She being in a sort of stupor, I came 
 down to the reception-room and sat by 
 the fire, trying to seem at ease, but 
 miserably deceiving myself all the time. 
 At last, totally overcome, I let my head 
 droop upon Lawrence's shoulder. 
 
 I do not know now, or did I even then 
 distinctly, what he said at first — it seems 
 rather as if he had not spoken at all. I re- 
 member only that, after I had told him as 
 well as I could all Mr. Burnett had done 
 in visiting the poor people, he said —
 
 136 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 "You forget what you have done 
 yourself, Mary. Do you remember once 
 telling me of a martyr's death? Little 
 did I think that you should become the 
 self-given martyr to teach me to despise 
 death. I heard the whole story from 
 an old man, the servant of a friend of 
 my own. It was then the blood seemed 
 to boil in my veins, and your voice rang 
 in my ears. I could not rest in peace, 
 my spirit was with you, so I came ; and 
 little do you know how anxiously I 
 have watched the house. Now, Mary," 
 he added, after a pause, " do you still 
 bid me go ? there is no one who will miss 
 me even if I do die. May I stay with 
 you? I have no sister, you have no
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 137 
 
 brother. Look at me, Mary ! say yes 
 or no, I shall question no more." 
 
 I got u]) and took his hand, looking 
 (as he told me afterwards) so calm and 
 quiet, that he felt quite awed in my 
 presence. 
 
 Poor Lisette died that night; but, by 
 the mercy of God, Mr. Burnett was con- 
 siderably better in the morning, and 
 past the worst. 
 
 Lawrence now took my place as 
 nurse, and most tenderly did he fulfil 
 his duty, sitting up with him night and 
 day. I cannot express the feeling of 
 gratitude and comfort when, after falling
 
 138 . MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 asleep, as I often did, in Mr. Burnett's 
 room, I looked up and saw ray brother- 
 friend beside me, sometimes watching 
 me, sometimes reading. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Burnett was able, he 
 wished to go out to visit the sick again ; 
 but, seeing my pale face, he let me per- 
 suade him to give up his occupation for 
 a while and go into the country. 
 
 His consent, however, was very reluc- 
 tantly given, and not until he had tried 
 much to prevail upon me to leave him 
 in town. But at length his own weak- 
 ness also admonished him, and one day, 
 when after walking once or twice up and 
 down stairs, he was obliged to sit down 
 to recover his breath, he looked up into 
 my face and said, shaking his head sadly.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 139 
 
 " The Lord's will be done !" Soon after 
 this he told me, with a cheerful voice, to 
 prepare all that was required for our 
 journey.
 
 140 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Close by those meads, for ever crowned with flowers, 
 Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers, 
 There stands a structure of majestic fame, 
 Which from the neighbouring Hampton takes its 
 name." Pope. 
 
 We went away the day following, and no 
 one who has not been a prisoner amidst 
 sickness and death, as I had been, can 
 have any notion of the overflowing gush 
 of gladness that seemed to carry me 
 away as I saw the green fields and 
 breathed the pure, fresh air again. 
 
 I laughed, and then cried, doing all
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 141 
 
 manner of childish things, and even in- 
 sisted on getting out to feel the soft turf 
 under my feet. The very birds rejoiced 
 with me, and I thought flew nearer than 
 they had done before. 
 
 I was hurrying up the grassy hill, 
 round which the carriage was slowly 
 moving, when my friend joined me, and 
 said, as he looked at my flushed face — 
 
 " Your roses are blowing already, dear 
 sister; surely you have some elixir. I 
 might make my fortune at Court if you 
 would teach me the secret." 
 
 I laughed, but blushed too, and making 
 an efl"oii:, I said — 
 
 "It is the elixir of happiness." 
 
 "Ah!" he said, looking very sad, "few
 
 142 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 can make use of such a dangerous 
 recipe." 
 
 "Dangerous," I exclaimed; "why do 
 you call happiness by such a terrible 
 name?" 
 
 He looked at me in a way I had 
 never noticed in him before, with a sort 
 of stern, penetrating glance, which chilled 
 and oppressed me. 
 
 " Happiness is often more to be feared 
 than misery," he said; "misery makes us 
 try to find consolation whence alone it 
 can come; ha23]Diness blinds us to all but 
 our own weak hearts, and often leads us 
 to sin and sorrow." 
 
 When we reached the carriage, and I 
 was again in my place, I leant back, and
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 143 
 
 begau thinking what my friend really 
 meant. 
 
 We now arrived at the cottage which 
 was to be our home, and found it a small, 
 thatched, old place, close to the Thames. 
 I looked forward with joy to the prospect 
 of freedom and quiet which was to follow. 
 
 Mr. Burnett used to sit all the day on 
 the little lawn, with a book before him, 
 but, as I found out, in reality thinking. 
 I hinted so much to him one day, but saw 
 he thought he studied much, and seemed 
 amused that I should have been so de- 
 ceived as to think he was dreaming. 
 
 Lawrence, or " brother Lawrence," as 
 I liked best, even then, to call him, would 
 take me long walks amongst shady trees, 
 on the banks of the dancing brooks, all of
 
 144 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 them so beautiful, that I told him he 
 must possess a magic wand to make 
 nature look so fair; at which he laughed, 
 saying — " There was a magic, but that I 
 was too young to understand it yet." 
 
 He became graver, and talked of other 
 subjects, but, oftener than all, he would 
 make me tell him of my mother, charm- 
 ing many little childish secrets from me, 
 until I felt he knew almost as much of her 
 as I did. 
 
 There happened to be a good supply of 
 books in the cottage, and these served to 
 while away much of our time, as we took 
 them out to read in the shade. I sup- 
 pose the green leaves and soft grass, the 
 ripphug stream and music of the birds 
 lent the charm to the tales, and made me
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 145 
 
 feel as if I could sit for days listening to 
 his voice; but I knew better afterwards. 
 
 The trees, birds, and water never 
 brightened the same tales again. 
 
 One of our favourite books was the 
 plays of Will. Shakespeare. Lawrence 
 read beautifully, his voice and expression 
 changing with every feeling of the play, 
 and carrying me so completely along 
 with him, that I would cry or laugh, just 
 as if I was one of the beings he read of 
 Sometimes he would stand up, and play- 
 fully make me a bow of thanks. 
 
 I do not know how it came about, but 
 one day we began talking of the Bible 
 and of eternity. He let me tell him all 
 I thought, leading me to speak openly of 
 things I had been concealing and dwell- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 ing upon in my heart. I had said a great 
 deal, and, becoming excited, perhaps a 
 good deal more than I really understood, 
 or meant. 
 
 Lawrence sat silent for a while, then 
 asked me where I had got such wild 
 notions from. 
 
 There was not much in the question, 
 ])ut just then it fell like a drop of cold 
 water on my burning heart, and pained 
 me deeply, so much so that the tears 
 came into my eyes before I could make 
 an effort to stop them. 
 
 Lawrence saw them, and, taking hold 
 of my hand, said how sorry he was to vex 
 me ; but that he could not think all I said 
 would ever come true, but if I could
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 147 
 
 show him where the Bible said so dis- 
 tinctly, he would believe. 
 
 Oh ! how bitterly I felt my own weak- 
 ness and want of knowledge, and would 
 have given worlds to remember any 
 place where it said clearly what I in my 
 lieart saw written there. 
 
 I thought of the words, '' Be ready to 
 give a reason for the faith that is in 
 you;" and how, by my very enthusiasm 
 and warmth, I had weakened my own 
 argument, by exciting Lawrence's pity; 
 so I sat silent and ashamed, and was 
 very glad when Mr. Burnett's approach 
 put an end to further discussion. 
 
 I thought for many an hour over our 
 conversation, and read more earnestly 
 in my Bible, in hopes of being able to 
 
 H 2
 
 148 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 prove to him the grounds I had for what 
 I had said; but I had no opportunity 
 then, and when we spoke of it a long 
 time afterwards, I had no cause to bring 
 proofs before him; he liad more excuse 
 to teach me. 
 
 After a fortnight had elapsed, I was 
 awakened from my happy dreams, and 
 recalled to the harsh reality of the world, 
 by the arrival of a messenger, who 
 brought a large packet, addressed to Mr. 
 Burnett, which contained a letter for me 
 from Mistress Catherine, written in the 
 same loving strain as of old, ending by 
 telling me to be ready to come to her 
 very soon. 
 
 Having read my letter, I had time to 
 look up to see if the rest brought equally
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 149 
 
 pleasant intelligence. There was a flush 
 on Lawrence's face, which deepened as 
 he read on ; and at last, looking up 
 suddenly, he caught my anxious gaze, 
 and with a short, bitter laugh, threw me 
 the letter. It was an angry reproval 
 from my Lord Clarendon, telKng him 
 he was trifling with his time, and order- 
 ring him to return to his duty imme- 
 diately, or it might be too late. 
 
 The letter seemed to me harsh and 
 unkind, and I could not but wonder at 
 Lawrence's thoughtlessness in showing 
 it to me. My cheeks flushed as I 
 said — 
 
 " I am very, very sorry, to have let 
 you stay."
 
 150 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 He stared at me vacantly, and then 
 muttered — 
 
 " Flow stupid I am ! I should have 
 explained it. This letter means more 
 than appears in it, and yet less; for it 
 means, Mary, that my lord is to be 
 sacrificed to his country, and that, 
 deserted by his friends, trampled upon 
 and insulted by those who dare not until 
 now whisper a word in his hearing, he 
 will be given over to his greatest 
 enemies. Oh, heaven ! to think that 
 one who has toiled for his country as 
 he has, giving up time, energy, wealth — 
 nay, happiness — for that country's wel- 
 fare, should be thus disgraced. By 
 God ! Mary, it makes my blood run cold 
 to think of the base ingratitude of man.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 151 
 
 I thought Charles had owed more than 
 this to his servant. The Duke, too — all, 
 all, forsaking their friend in time of 
 need." 
 
 He ceased speaking, choked by the 
 vehemence of his feelings, and clenching 
 his hand, sat waiting the approach of 
 Mr. Burnett, who had left us to read his 
 letters. 
 
 He heard the news sadly enough, but 
 reproved Lawrence's haste in thus judg- 
 ing the King and Duke ; bidding him re- 
 member how dependent the former was 
 upon parliament, especially at this time; 
 and ending by counselling him to set 
 oiF immediately, and stand by my lord 
 through his troubles; and the old man 
 seemed much affected as he laid his
 
 152 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 hand upon the Bible, and bade Lawrence 
 tell my lord that he would pray for 
 him. 
 
 My dear brother took my hand, and 
 telling me not to forget him, went 
 away. 
 
 A few days afterwards, another mes- 
 senger arrived, bringing, as it appeared 
 by Mr. Burnett's sad countenance, still 
 worse intelligence ; and when he had 
 gone, he told me that he had heard very 
 bad news, as an Act of Parliament had 
 just been passed to prevent ministers 
 like himself, who were called Dissenters, 
 from going within five miles of the
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 158 
 
 church in which they had formerly held 
 their service. 
 
 Poor old man! how he sighed over 
 the folds thus left shepherdless, crying to 
 the Lord to come and help them. Then 
 starting up, he said — 
 
 " We must go back to London, Mary. 
 They cannot chase me away from the 
 fold I have chosen there. Oh! Claren- 
 don! who would have thought this of 
 thee? — that thy last act — for, verily, 
 such it may be here — should spread 
 dismay and trembling amongst the ser- 
 vants of thy God. Vain, indeed, is our 
 trust in man ! I would, Mary, that I 
 had lost my right hand, rather than one 
 I thought so noble had left such a blot 
 upon his name." 
 
 H 5
 
 154 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 In spite of his determination, I heard 
 nothing more of our return to London; 
 and July came, with its bright warm 
 days and sunny skies ; but quiet and 
 peaceful as it was in the forests of 
 Windsor, it was wild and stormy 
 without. 
 
 The war with the Dutch troubled and 
 excited the whole countiy, and few of 
 the great families of the land but were 
 thrown into anxiety as to the safety of 
 at least one of its members. 
 
 Another source of uneasiness to Mr. 
 Burnett, even in the retirement of our 
 present home, was the too evident influ- 
 ence of the Romanists, who, favoured by 
 the Duke of York, and, it was generally 
 believed, by the King, were advanced to
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 155 
 
 positions of the highest trust, not imme- 
 diately connected with the Government. 
 
 The evils of the encroachment upon 
 
 the rights of the clergy, which was called 
 
 the Act of Oblivion, were brought at this 
 
 , time glaringly before us, by the fate of 
 
 an old friend of Mr. Burnett's. 
 
 He had preached for many years in a 
 little church near Titchfield, in Hamp- 
 shire, and had been ejected, as coming 
 under the denomination of a Noncom- 
 formist. 
 
 His congregation listened to his fare- 
 well exhortation with tears and lamenta- 
 tions, and, assembling at the little par- 
 sonage, besought him to appoint some 
 place in the open air where they might 
 still listen to his doctrine. He, being of
 
 156 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 a meek and fearful disposition, shrank at 
 lirst from thus evading the commands of 
 the King; but, looking round upon the 
 throng of anxious faces, he thought how 
 thej were like a flock without a shep- 
 herd, and how easy a prey they would 
 be to the wolf who is ever near ; and he 
 overcame his fear enough to appoint a 
 neighbouring valley, in which he would 
 liold his meetings. 
 
 Most of his congregation were poor 
 people, and yet there were amongst them 
 some who boasted of noble names and 
 high birth, and who came veiled or 
 masked, and though round the cottage- 
 hearth many hazarded conjectures as to 
 tlieir names, no one ventured to speak 
 openly, or stare rudely, at the strangers.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 157 
 
 The good clergyman grew bolder as 
 time slipped quietly away, and he had 
 not been interrupted in his ministry, but 
 the storm was gathering; a band of 
 soldiers surprised them during their 
 service, and, rushing among them 
 with profane shouts, ridiculed their 
 pastor, and tore his gown from his 
 shoulders. 
 
 At first the country folks seemed too 
 much surprised to understand their 
 position, but at last a young farrier, 
 seeing one of the half-drunken soldiers 
 clasp his sweetheart in his rude embrace, 
 could bear it no longer, and, seizing a 
 stone, he knocked the ruffian down, 
 shouting to his companions to stand
 
 158 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 by him, and fight for their rights and 
 
 religion. 
 
 Their spirit was roused, and, catching 
 
 up whatever came in their way, they 
 
 rushed upon their assailants, and finally 
 drove them off, but not before five of 
 them lay dead on the ground. This was 
 a terrible offence; the poor clergyman 
 had to fly immediately, to escape the 
 consequences of the resistance, over 
 which he had no control. 
 
 A few days after this intelhgence had 
 reached us, Mr. Burnett and I were 
 sitting in the porch, watching the last 
 rays of the setting sun, he expatiating 
 on the wonderful works of God, and I 
 trying to listen, though my thoughts
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 159 
 
 wandered often to my absent friend 
 Lawrence. Suddenly a step on the 
 gravel startled us, and, looking up, we 
 saw an old man in travel-stained and 
 rao;o;ed clothes. His tremblino: knees 
 gave way as he reached us, and, falling on 
 the ground, he asked us for help in 
 Grod's name. I shall never forget the 
 mingled expression of sorrow and anger 
 with which Mr. Burnett looked at me as 
 he raised him in his arms. 
 
 "It is him of whom we have just 
 heard, Mary, and the friend of my boy- 
 hood." 
 
 I was very much shocked, and gladly 
 assisted in nursing the poor man, who, 
 when he recovered, remained with us
 
 ^^^ MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 until we returned to London, when 
 he departed into Wales, his „,tive 
 countrv.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 161 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Oh ! war ! thou hast thy fierce delight 
 Thy gleams of joy, intensely bright 
 Such gleams as from thy polished shield, 
 Fly dazzling o'er a battle-field !" 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Mr. Burnett having at length fixed the 
 day for our departure, I left the cottage 
 with a heavy heart, wondering if I should 
 ever again revisit scenes of my happy 
 rambles with Lawrence, and was only 
 cheered by the hope of seeing him in 
 London. 
 
 When we arrived within its precincts,
 
 162 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 we became aware that some great event 
 had taken place. 
 
 The whole city resounded with the 
 ringing of bells, and the noise of guns. 
 Mr. Burnett said nothing, but took one 
 of my hands in his, and held it very 
 firmly ; and when I asked him the cause 
 of such rejoicing, he gave me no answer; 
 and I, being accustomed to see him in 
 absent fits, waited with what patience I 
 could. 
 
 Upon entering one of the crowded 
 thoroughfares, we met a great procession 
 of men and women, carrying torches and 
 banners ; while they shouted and danced, 
 yelling and fighting like so many de- 
 mons. 
 
 Mr. Burnett put his head out and
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 163 
 
 begged the people to make way for us, 
 but liis voice was drowned, and one 
 drunken wretch threw a cup of liquor in 
 his face, and uttered a horrible oath, 
 which made the poor old man draw back 
 in haste, and tell me not to look at the 
 poor creatures, who knew not what they 
 were doing. 
 
 As the carriage began to move, a 
 printed paper was thrust in, which Mr. 
 Burnett picked up, and I looking, saw 
 the heading — " Victory, or the four days 
 fight;" and heard him exclaim, " Oh, my 
 God!'' and crush the paper hastily in his 
 hand. 
 
 " What did the man say," I asked, 
 very anxious to know more, and thinking
 
 164 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 something he had said, had caused Mr. 
 Burnett's strange manner. 
 
 " Eh ! girl," he said, in answer to my 
 question, " don't ask me, it is nothing to 
 you or me. Oh! no! to you or me," 
 he repeated, abstractedly, as he leant 
 back in the corner of the coach ; and I, 
 frightened that something had happened 
 which he wished to conceal from me, sat 
 trembling. 
 
 " Oh, thou sword of the Lord," he 
 muttered, " how long will it be ere thou 
 be quiet ; put up thyself into thy scab- 
 bard; rest and be still." Seeing my 
 eyes fixed upon him, expressing all the 
 anxiety I felt, he asked me not to look at 
 him thus, and I, feeling his rebuke, 
 prayed fervently in my heart that the
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 165 
 
 cloud might pass away, or that I too 
 might share it. 
 
 Alas! I little knew how soon that 
 cloud would burst in all its might over 
 my own head. 
 
 Getting into a side street, we escaped 
 from the crowd, and proceeded at a 
 quicker pace ; and though I still heard 
 the yells of the people, mingled with the 
 bells and guns, all was comparatively 
 deserted, until we reached the Temple 
 Bar, when coming into the Strand, we 
 saw the whole length lighted up, as if 
 on fire, every window blazing with can- 
 dles, and in some places rows of lamps 
 were swung across the street, looking so 
 bright and pretty, that I was sorry when
 
 166 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 we turned away into the dark, dismal 
 looking squares again. 
 
 The great door was barred and bolted 
 when we arrived at the house, and we 
 had to ring more than once, ere we could 
 gain admittance; we had evidently not 
 been expected, for (and happily as it 
 turned out) the old porter had taken the 
 opportunity of inviting some of his mess- 
 mates, and not content with a fire in the 
 great hall, but wishing to do all honour 
 to the occasion, had lit an immense one 
 in the dining hall, and there, spread upon 
 a cloth of the richest and whitest da- 
 mask, stood a goodly supper, with Dame 
 Margery herself sitting in the place of 
 honour. 
 
 A look of dismay came over her fat red
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 167 
 
 face as we entered. She stood, stroking 
 her white apron, her face becoming red- 
 der and redder every moment, until at 
 last she burst out into some unintelligible 
 excuse about the occasion, and her coun- 
 try, and would have said more, but Mr. 
 Burnett, who seemed almost glad at the 
 unexpected sight, prevented her, saying, 
 
 " We shall not interrupt the party. I 
 only ask them to adjourn to the hall 
 and leave us a small share of the en- 
 tertainment." Adding, solemny, " My 
 friends, temper your mirth ; think of the 
 widow and the orphan." 
 
 He laid his hand as he spoke on my 
 head, and drew me towards him. Good 
 Dame Margery at this came nearer, and 
 looked close into his face, then at mine.
 
 168 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 After a moment, she covered her 
 face with her apron, and went away 
 weeping. 
 
 When we were alone, Mr. Burnett 
 poured out a cup of wine, and made me 
 drink it ; he then took off my cloak, and 
 drawing a great easy- chair to the fire, 
 bade me sit down and sleep awhile. I 
 wondered why he did all this, but 
 mechanically obeyed, and, weary with 
 the journey, was soon asleep. 
 
 When I awoke, Mr. Burnett was still 
 sitting beside me, with his face buried in 
 his hands; and every now and then I 
 could hear a stifled moan, as if he was 
 in great agony, either of mind or body. 
 
 Wishing to comfort him, I begged 
 him to tell me of his grief; but he care-
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 169 
 
 fully evaded my question, pretending 
 there was nothing the matter, and at 
 last I went sadly to my room. 
 
 I found Margery had arranged every- 
 thing in the greatest order, even opening 
 a case which contained a picture of my 
 father, and laying beneath it a bunch of 
 flowers — rosemary, rue, and white lily. 
 Their fragrance soothed me. I laid 
 them, with the picture, beside my pillow, 
 and so fell asleep. 
 
 In the morning, Margery told me Mr. 
 Burnett had gone out, and requested me 
 not to admit any one till his return ; 
 and I thought Margery looked very sad, 
 as she told me of the rejoicings which 
 had been carried on in honour of a great 
 victory; and I felt sad too, for I began 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 to tliink of my poor father, and that he 
 might be even then fighting. 
 
 After a httle, I got up and went to 
 the drawing-room, and sat down with 
 some embroidery work ; but the gay 
 colours mocked my sight, and I put it 
 aside, and gave way to thoughts of the 
 days that were gone — days of my early 
 childhood, and of my dear father and 
 mother. I was still far back amongst 
 these treasured memories, when Mr. 
 Burnett entered. 
 
 I wondered not a little to see him clad 
 in a new suit of mourning, even deeper 
 than w^hat he usually wore. He em- 
 l)raced me without speaking, stroking 
 my cheek affectionately, and then, after 
 looking at me for some time, led me to
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 171 
 
 the window, the same from which I 
 had once before watched the setting 
 sun, and there he pointed to the red 
 and wild-looking clouds floating lazily 
 along. 
 
 "It is very beautiful and terrible," I 
 said, hoping he would speak; still he 
 said nothing, and I looked at the clouds, 
 which grew more lowering, and moved 
 faster along. I was thinking much of 
 my father, and in my imagination likened 
 them to ships; and, growing excited, 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " Look ! look ! — see, they are like 
 ships. It is a battle. I can see the 
 smoke rising in clouds. See, there is 
 one broken and dismantled, like a tem- 
 pest-tossed wreck." I had grown almost 
 
 i2
 
 172 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 fierce as I spoke, raising my voice 
 unconsciously. 
 
 " Mary, there has been a fight at 
 sea," said Mr. Burnett, in a low voice. 
 *' Can you bear to hear the details 
 now?" 
 
 I know not why, but I began to 
 tremble violently. The old weight came 
 back, and I bent down my head until it 
 rested against the window, as I said, 
 " Please go on," and he did so. 
 
 Thus I heard the explanation of his 
 sadness and the story of the victory, 
 and more — oh, God! that it should be 
 so — that I was one of those orphans of 
 whom he bade the servants think, amidst 
 their mirth.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 173 
 
 Again I had lifted up my voice and 
 wept. The dark shadow of death had 
 passed over my dwelling, and, by God's 
 mercy, my heart had rested upon Him 
 through it all. My spirit had bent, but 
 was not broken ; and, even in the agony 
 of the moment, I had felt it was another 
 link in the chain that was binding me 
 to heaven, and a light to guide me 
 through the darkness of my earthly 
 path. 
 
 I wept, but not as I had done for my 
 mother — such tears flow but once; nor 
 even would I have dared, if she still 
 lived, to shed such for my noble father, 
 dying as he did for his King and 
 country — sealing with his life's blood 
 the letter he had just received, granting
 
 174 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 him pardon and the possession of all he 
 had lost. 
 
 The shot that pierced his breast, 
 passed through the paper, which is now 
 an heirloom in our family, and will go 
 to the grave with the last of our race. 
 
 Now he was dead, those who reviled 
 liim living were loud in his praise; 
 giving him, when too late, the justice 
 they knew he deserved. But such, alas ! 
 is too often the case. 
 
 It was some days before I saw any 
 one ; for dear Mr. Burnett was of 
 opinion that grief should be indulged 
 in, as a time when the heart, being 
 more open than usual to holy influence, 
 it may perhaps take a faster and ever- 
 lasting hold of heaven. So he kept me
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 175 
 
 to himself, making me speak to liim 
 much of my father; and thus I really 
 felt the wound healing sooner than if I 
 had been forced to smother my sorrow 
 and mingle with the world. 
 
 When Lawrence was permitted to see 
 me, he reminded me of the conversation 
 we had had upon the glory of death in 
 battle, and said I must have had some 
 foresight of what was to happen. 
 
 This visit of Lawrence's brought com- 
 fort, mingled with pain, bringing to my 
 mind what a different meeting I had 
 hoped it would be. There was some- 
 thing, too, in his manner tliat puzzled 
 me ; a constraint and despondency which 
 cost me many a wakeful night. So 
 changed indeed was he, that even Mr.
 
 176 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Burnett, immersed in writing and visiting 
 as he was, had time to notice it, and 
 remark it to me. 
 
 I was deeply disappointed at his cold- 
 ness, and could not but compare him 
 with others, for I had many would-be 
 friends now, who, anxious to retrieve 
 their injustice to my father, and to please 
 the King, who spoke openly of his glo- 
 rious memory, came to pay their respects 
 to me, with many expressions of con- 
 dolence and affectionate pity. 
 
 Lawrence alone seemed to avoid me; 
 and I would have given up all the fine 
 sentiments I was forced to listen to, for 
 one kind word from him ; not indeed that 
 he w^as unkind exactly, but there was 
 something hid. 1 knew he was unhappy,
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 177 
 
 and trying to keep it from me, so T was 
 very wretched, and out of temper with 
 everything. I soon began to suspect my 
 new friends might have another reason 
 for their attention to me : it was this — 
 
 The King, considering my father's gal- 
 lant deeds, and how his reward had come 
 too late, had, with the generosity he pos- 
 sessed at heart, granted to me, his only 
 child, all the wealth and honours he had 
 intended to restore to my father. So in 
 the eyes of the world, I might, as an 
 heiress and titled lady, seem much to be 
 envied. Though Heaven is my witness 
 how light all these appeared in my eyes, 
 and, excepting only for my dear father's 
 sake, would have been utterly worth- 
 less. 
 
 I 5
 
 178 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Mr. Burnett rebuked me, when, one 
 day, I ventured to tell him how little I 
 cared for these things, and told me, I 
 ought to be thankful for the power I 
 now had of helping my poor fellow-crea- 
 tures, and taking me to walk on the 
 Strand^ he bade me look at the crowds of 
 half-clad, half-starving people, who jostled 
 the great and rich, staring round with 
 fierce, eager eyes. 
 
 That lesson went to my heart more 
 than a thousand words, and I came in 
 wiser and better, to thank God for the 
 good I had entrusted to me ; yet I wanted 
 strength, and was terribly perplexed how 
 to set about helping the poor, knowing 
 well that charity must be given care-
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 179 
 
 fully, or would do more liarm tlian 
 good. 
 
 The state of the Court was now the 
 saddest topic of the day amongst Mr. 
 Burnett's friends. (I do not mean his 
 fine friends, but ministers and teachers. ) 
 They deplored the weakness our kind 
 hearted King showed, in giving way to 
 such men as Buckingham, and listen- 
 ing to the advice some gave him, to 
 divorce his gentle Queen, and marry 
 another. 
 
 This, however, he happily refused, and 
 his profligate Court sneered at his love 
 for poor Queen Catherine. Nay, my 
 Lady Castlemaine openly insulted her, 
 while Mistress Stewart, another of the 
 King's gay ladies, sat down in her Ma-
 
 180 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 jesty's presence, giving, as excuse, tlie 
 state of health she was in, adding, that 
 her Majesty might be excused from igno- 
 rance, understanding such a state's re- 
 quirements. 
 
 Charles resented this insult openly, by 
 requesting Mrs. Stewart to remain in her 
 own house until she could stand in the 
 Queen's presence; but he soon forgot it, 
 and invited her back again. 
 
 Concerning my Lord Clarendon, the 
 King gave us great uneasiness : going, as 
 he too often did, from one extreme to the 
 other, he suddenly turned upon my lord, 
 whose cause having only been sustained 
 by his favour, and that of the Duke of 
 York, we lost all hope, and his friends
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 181 
 
 began gloomily to prepare their minds for 
 the worst. 
 
 Nor was it alone amongst private 
 houses the consternation prevailed; the 
 whole town was in a ferment of uncer- 
 tainty. 
 
 One day bells would ring for some 
 rumoured victory; another, shops were 
 shut up whilst their masters hastened, 
 pale and breathless, to the ports, to swal- 
 low wild tales of defeat and ruin.
 
 182 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE FIRE. 
 
 In the midst of this general confusion 
 and anxiety, an event occurred, which 
 calamitous as it seemed at first, was, per- 
 haps, the most providential circumstance 
 that could have happened, serving to 
 unite, as it did, the royal brothers, both 
 joining hand in hand to save their sub- 
 ject's lives and properties; and also for a 
 time diverted men's thoughts from ran- 
 cour, suspicion, and treachery.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 183 
 
 The event I allude to was the Great 
 Fire of 1666. 
 
 It began, as most great things do, by a 
 very little matter ; a fire in a baker's shop 
 near the old city bridge, then on went the 
 thirsty and insatiable monster, 23ursuing 
 the spectators from street to street. 
 
 On and on, for three days and nights, 
 until more than half the mighty city lay 
 a heap of smoking ruins; and it was 
 only by the blowing up of whole streets 
 that a barrier was opposed to the a,ngry 
 element. Well do I remember the joy 
 which Mr. Burnett expressed as he told 
 me the fire was subdued. 
 
 Truly, it had been a terrible foe, and 
 a sight I shall never forget; yet, as I 
 said before, though it seemed at first a
 
 184 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 scourge, it turned out in reality a true 
 friend, cleansing the filthy haunts of our 
 old enemy, the plague; as the whole of 
 the quarter in which that complaint 
 raged, was that to which the fire showed 
 least mercy. 
 
 Another thing, too : it gained the King 
 a higher place in the affections of his 
 subjects than anything else could have 
 done; for, being told of the outburst of 
 the fire, he went immediately to the spot, 
 and not content with looking on, set to 
 work with good will to help those who 
 were trying to check the flames. 
 
 The crowd looked on for a moment in 
 astonishment, then raised a deafening 
 shout of " God bless the King !" and 
 began their work with renewed energy.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 185 
 
 During all the time of the fire, the 
 King toiled on with his subjects, gaining 
 golden opinions, which the misdeeds of 
 his after life never completely effaced. 
 
 Oh ! what terrible misery that fire 
 caused ; whole families burnt out of 
 house and home, and sent starving upon 
 the selfish world. It was now I felt the 
 truth of what Mr. Burnett had said, in 
 there being use for wealth; and I was 
 soon altogether employed feeding and 
 clothing the poor and houseless wretches 
 who wandered about the streets in a 
 state of starvation, hiding their scorched 
 and half-naked bodies during the day- 
 light, and coming out under cover of 
 night, prowled about, haunting the
 
 186 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 church porches, filling the air with their 
 imprecations and groans. 
 
 Thanks to the King's generosity, I 
 had the power of helping them; and, 
 thanks to Heaven, I had a heart which 
 readily responded to the summons. 
 
 Day after day, I was up at sunrise, 
 preparing for my applicants ; and in this 
 case I found out the truth of the proverb, 
 that " Good news travels apace," for 
 each morning brought me fresh crowds 
 begging for assistance; and I found the 
 poor creatures would go to any distance 
 to find out some friend whose case was 
 as wretched as their own, to whom they 
 could tell where they would be relieved ; 
 so the reader may imagine how the 
 labours of the charitable were increased.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 187 
 
 For my own part, I have often since 
 wondered at what I did, and thanked 
 God for my strength. It was marvellous, 
 the heaps of clothing Margery and I 
 distributed, and the immense boilers of 
 soup which were filled and emptied as 
 regular as the day came. 
 
 We had four men constantly at work 
 in the kitchen, day and night ; and poor 
 Margery grew quite thin with her hard 
 work, as she sat up all hours of the 
 night preparing clothing for the poor 
 watermen, who claimed her special pity. 
 
 Mistress Catherine herself brought me 
 bundles of linen, large quantities of 
 which I knew came from her own ward- 
 robe. 
 
 Lawrence often came, too; but only
 
 188 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 ran up to say a hasty word of encourage- 
 ment, and never giving me time to 
 question him on his own health, which I 
 feared, from his pale face, was very indif- 
 ferent. I never felt tired of the eternal 
 stitch, stitch, except after one of these 
 hasty visits, and then often an evil spirit 
 of impatience seemed to take possession 
 of me, and I would even lay aside my 
 work, and sit idly dreaming of the happy 
 days at the cottage; and it took some 
 time ere this feeling faded away, and I 
 could resume my work. 
 
 Day after day flew past ; the faster my 
 needle went, the faster the time went 
 too, and Mr. Burnett told me I was 
 laying up a store of happiness for the 
 time to come. I did not then fully
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 189 
 
 uuderstand his meaning, though I did 
 feel very happy as family after family 
 were housed and clothed. 
 
 It was a dark and troubled year upon 
 the whole, and, as I looked back upon it 
 from Christmas, seemed one long clouded 
 day; perhaps the darkest cloud of all 
 was the change that had taken place in 
 Lawrence; every day I had felt more 
 constraint in his presence, though I 
 must say I was not much put to 
 the test, seeing that he visited us so 
 seldom. 
 
 Towards the end of the year, I had 
 been a good deal with the Duchess of 
 York; yet, though often in her room 
 for hours, I saw but little of the two 
 Princesses (for so the King desired they
 
 190 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 should be called), they being occupied 
 almost entirely in study or gaiety. 
 
 Of the two, I liked the Princess Mary 
 the least. She took great pains to bring 
 forward her own learning, and seemed 
 amused when I could not answer some 
 abstruse questions, patting my head as 
 she called me a simple little goose. 
 
 What vexed me most in her conduct 
 was the way in which she spoke of what 
 was done at Court, retailing scandal that 
 was too shocking to believe, and laugh- 
 ing lieartily at jokes that made even her 
 sister blush ; taking great care, however, 
 to be circums]3ect in the presence of the 
 Duchess. 
 
 She had two great friends, the Ladies 
 Villiers, both of whom, I am ashamed to
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 191 
 
 say, I hated cordially ; nor was there any 
 love lost between us, as I heard one say 
 that I was a little puritan hypocrite, and 
 no one would speak to me but for my 
 fortune. 
 
 The reader may fancy this did not 
 increase my affection. 
 
 The Princess Anne was at that time 
 the very reverse of her sister, but, being 
 so completely under her control, it was 
 almost impossible to understand her 
 true character, and also being constantly 
 occupied in the gratification of her own 
 tastes, I saw but little of her, and that 
 little did not make me like her 
 
 Towards Christmas, the Princess Mary 
 seemed to find a pleasure in coming to 
 see me, usually bringing one of her
 
 192 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 friends with her, which I did not at all 
 like, as they ran about the house looking 
 and laughing at everytliing, eating up 
 Dame Margarey's choicest confections, 
 and sometimes being so rude as to play 
 jokes upon poor Mr. Burnett; he, good, 
 patient man, only smiled, and called them 
 giddy children. 
 
 One night during Christmas week I 
 happened to attend the Princess to the 
 hall-door, and noticed that the attendant 
 who came to escort her bore a strong 
 resemblance to Lawrence. The thought 
 flashed upon me quite unexpectedly, and 
 I forgot what I was saying, and made 
 some silly answer to the Princess, who, 
 looking at me sharply, asked me why I 
 stared so at her lacquey.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 193 
 
 Blushing to the eyes, and almost crying 
 with vexation, I said hastily — " I know 
 better than that," and ran off to seek 
 refuge in my own room, when, after my 
 anger had evaporated, I began to think 
 how foolish I had been to suppose Law- 
 rence would disguise himself, and abso- 
 lutely longed for an opportunity to apolo- 
 gize to the Princess for my rude beha- 
 viour. She did not, however, come 
 again for some time, and when she did, I 
 did not think fit to mention anvthino; 
 about it. 
 
 Christmas week in the seventeenth 
 century was a truly jovial time. King 
 Charles, ever ready to seize on any ex- 
 cuse for gaiety and amusement, set the 
 example to his subjects by superintend- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 ing the preparations for masques and 
 pageants of all kinds. 
 
 Tents were erected in the Palace gar- 
 dens, under which banquets were spread, 
 while actors and singers performed for 
 the amusement of the company. Pro- 
 cessions of mummers paraded through 
 the town, bearing grotesque figures 
 of Christmas, and immense flagons of 
 spiced ale to heighten their merriment. 
 
 The Court wits and beauties prome- 
 naded the streets in their gayest dresses, 
 even clustering round the orange- stalls 
 and eating roasted chestnuts at the shop- 
 doors, and not only the Court, but even 
 the Queen went, though I believe more to 
 please the King than herself. The streets 
 were one continual fair, in which might
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 195 
 
 be seen every one who aimed at being 
 popular either with the King or country. 
 
 During the week, the Duchess of York 
 came almost daily for me, and took me 
 about in her coach, the Princesses pre- 
 feriing to walk with their governess and 
 the ladies in waiting, accompanied by the 
 Court gentlemen, and sometimes by the 
 King himself, who set great store upon 
 his nieces, particularly Mary, being the 
 most beautiful. 
 
 Mr. Burnett took me out once or 
 twice, but the levity of the ladies shocked 
 him, and saying he was quite out of 
 place of such things, he gladly gave me 
 up to the Duchess, thinking I was thus 
 spared a portion of the scenes. One day, 
 to my great joy, Lawrence came to take 
 
 K 2
 
 196 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 me with him, to join the Court party at 
 some gardens a little distance from 
 London, where they had appointed to 
 meet, and have spiced wine and buns. 
 
 Getting into a coach, we soon left the 
 streets, and got into the lovely snow- 
 covered country, which glistened as if 
 strewn with diamonds, long icicles hang- 
 ing from the sheds and cottages by the 
 way side. We could see bright fires and 
 fresh holly boughs surrounded by merry 
 faces, and were offered many a cup of 
 steaming ale and wine as we trotted 
 slowly on. 
 
 At last we had to get out and walk, the 
 garden not admitting the coach, and then 
 came my greatest amusement. 
 
 The path being like glass, my high-
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 197 
 
 heeled shoes slipped about in every 
 direction, and I had to cling to Lawrence's 
 arm for support, though, as he often 
 slipped too, we laughed heartily together, 
 and, as we drew near the party, were 
 greeted with loud mirth, they having all 
 in turn gone through the same ordeal. 
 
 One or two young men started forward 
 to help me, but, being in too much haste, 
 both fell, adding to the merriment by 
 their vain endeavours to gain a footing 
 again ; at last one gave it up, and cre2)t 
 on his hands and knees towards me, 
 beo:oin2; in the most comic manner that 
 I would give him my hand. 
 
 I, thinking nothing, held it out, whicli 
 was greeted with much applause. He 
 sprang up and claimed me as his partner
 
 198 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 for the day, led me on, and presented 
 me safely to the Duchess of York, the 
 Queen being indisposed and unable to 
 be present. 
 
 He who had claimed my hand was my 
 gentleman for the day — one I had never 
 met before, but the son of a real friend 
 of my father's, and, as he was both 
 witty and handsome, I felt very much 
 pleased at being so fortunate, whilst he 
 said he was also, so we set about enjoy- 
 ing ourselves, caring very little for any 
 one else.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Oh ! that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder 
 Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges, 
 Small things make base men proud, this villain here 
 Being captain of a pinnance, threatens more 
 Than Bargulus." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The spring of 1667 had opened with a 
 great talk of peace. 
 
 The King now beginning to see that 
 war had really been " a mistake," des- 
 patched my Lord HoUis and Henry 
 Coventry as ambassadors to the Hague, 
 with instructions to bring about a peace ;
 
 200 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 and though that happy consummation 
 had not yet been attained, the public 
 thinking there could be no danger, went 
 briskly on with their trade and specu- 
 lations. 
 
 Lulled by the sanguine hopes held out 
 by the Court, the country was soon at 
 ease, and asleep, when one day in June, 
 a cry of consternation rang through the 
 city. 
 
 Messengers hurried, pale and terror- 
 stricken, from the wharfs to the public 
 offices, spreading the astounding news 
 that the Dutch were in the Thames. 
 
 At first the news was received with 
 doubt and incredulity, but by degrees 
 conviction was forced upon the people. 
 
 The news was indeed too true.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 201 
 
 Having obtained secret intelligence ol 
 our supposed security, Admiral De E,uy- 
 ter had sailed into tlie river, beaten Sir 
 Edward Sprague, taken Sheerness, and 
 broken tbe chain placed as a barrier 
 across the mouth of the Thames. 
 
 Such was the intelligence brought by 
 the first messengers, but before orders 
 could be issued, or any plan arranged, 
 the Dutch had left the river, sailed round, 
 and threatened Portsmouth, Plymouth, 
 and Harwich ; and then, whilst the Court 
 and people were still staring open- 
 mouthed at each other, De Ruyter re- 
 turned to the Thames, but encountering 
 a severe check at Tilbury, again retired. 
 
 Proclamations were now sent post over 
 the country, and in a few weeks, Parha- 
 
 K 5
 
 202 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 ment had assembled, but to the astonish- 
 ment of lookers on, took no notice of the 
 circumstance which had brought them 
 together, but passed the strangely incon- 
 sistent bill for breaking up the army. 
 
 Thus 12,000 men, who had just been 
 raised, were disbanded, and the two 
 Houses being prorogued until winter, the 
 representatives of England complacently 
 returned to their country seats, leaving 
 the complicated affairs of the country in 
 the hands of an undecided and divided 
 ministry. At this time, and most happily 
 for England, came the conclusion and 
 signing of the treaty at Breda in July, 
 clearing away some of the threatening 
 difficulties, and extricating King Charles 
 from a mass of minor troubles.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 203 
 
 This may appear a mere dry historical 
 recital, but my fate, and that of those 
 connected with me, is so interwoven with 
 the public events of the time, that I could 
 not carry on the thread of my narrative 
 without mentioning them here.
 
 204 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Fly, fathers, fly, for all your friends are fled, 
 And AVarwick rages like a chafed bull. 
 Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 My Lord Clarendon had taken much 
 to coming to us of late, walking in after 
 dark, and sitting down wearily by the 
 hearth, sometimes scarcely saying a word 
 the whole night. He, .however, always 
 seemed to take an interest in all I did : 
 and once, when I had been speaking a 
 great deal of Lawrence, he took my hand, 
 and bade me look him in the face, and
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 205 
 
 tell him if I loved " this same Law- 
 rence." 
 
 I looked up, wondering very much 
 why he should ask me such a question, 
 but recovering myself, I said, " Yes; I 
 call him my brother." 
 
 He patted my head, and looking at 
 Mr. Burnett, smilingly said, " Whj does 
 she call him brother?" 
 
 When he had heard that it was on ac- 
 count of his great kindness to me, he said, 
 " Very good, child, I am glad it should 
 be so ; but you are a tall girl to have gay 
 young courtiers hanging about thee, and 
 Lawrence has many a fair friend who 
 would give him little mercy, did she 
 know that he has such a pretty adopted 
 sister."
 
 206 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 I felt a stinging sensation in my heart, 
 and looked up witli burning cheeks, to 
 ask if I did wrong in loving him. 
 
 " Not as thou doest, but stop there," 
 said my Lord Clarendon. 
 
 " My lord," said Mr. Burnett, inter- 
 rupting him, " Mary is a child." 
 
 At which my Lord Clarendon sighed, 
 and said, — 
 
 " Ah, yes, I forgot, there are so few 
 children now. I wish two, who are very 
 dear to me, were just such children. 
 Poor things, they have given me many a 
 heart ache already. But God knoweth 
 best. My prayers shall ascend daily for 
 them, nor will I forget thee, Mary. Thy 
 mother was even more like my own child, 
 than her they call mine."
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 207 
 
 One evening, after the door had been 
 closed for the night, my Lord Clarendon 
 came hastily in. Soon after his arrival, 
 and while we were sitting quietly by 
 the fire side, a startling summons at the 
 door made my lord jump up, and almost 
 at the same instant the door was flung 
 open, and my dear Mistress Catherine 
 entered. 
 
 She did not at first observe my lord, 
 but threw herself on her knees before 
 Mr. Burnett, sobbing as if her heart 
 would break, and I saw him turn pale as 
 he bade me leave the room. 
 
 " Oh ! no, no, let her remain," said 
 Mistress Catherine, looking round at me. 
 " Come and kiss me, Mary — but, oh ! no, 
 go away, I cannot speak before you ; go,
 
 208 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 and ask God's help for the wretched and 
 broken hearted." 
 
 After holding me for an instant she 
 turned away. 
 
 I found my Lord Clarendon pacing the 
 hall in great agitation, and lie asked me 
 hastily if the lady had said anything, and 
 when I repeated the little that had passed,* 
 he grew very angry, and swore more 
 than I had ever heard him before, cursing 
 the evil tongues of men and women, and 
 I, rather alarmed at his unusual beha- 
 viour, sat down quietly, expecting and 
 hoping I might be called back ; but I was 
 disappointed in this, as a message came 
 to my lord alone, and I, feeling that I 
 was not required, retired to my chamber. 
 
 In the morning, Mr. Burnett rather
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 209 
 
 increased than satisfied my curiosity by 
 saying that Mistress Catherine was very 
 unhappy about her husband, and I was 
 feign to be content with this information. 
 
 That day saw the ruin of my Lord 
 Clarendon accomplished. Several of his 
 friends, in speaking to Mr. Burnett of 
 it, blamed the King very much, but 
 praised the Duke of York, saying he had 
 behaved nobly, but that the King, em- 
 bittered by Buckingham, who hated as 
 much as he feared my lord, and the 
 knowledge that the banishment of his 
 minister would gratify both Houses of 
 Parliament, resolved to sacrifice to the 
 malignity of the people his most virtuous 
 and upright counsellor. 
 
 So, to cover a multitude of sins com-
 
 210 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 mitted without his sanction or knowledge, 
 Clarendon was given up. 
 
 When Mr. Burnett went out that after- 
 noon, he told me that most probably my 
 Lord Clarendon would return with hird, 
 and that Dame Margery and I were to 
 be prepared to entertain him as it be- 
 fitted him. Lawrence came soon after, 
 but could give me no particulars as to 
 the decision of the House of Lords on his 
 master's fate. 
 
 He 'seemed very tired, so much so, 
 indeed, that, returning to the drawing- 
 room after having left him a short time, 
 I found him fast asleep. 
 
 Stealing up to his side on ti23toe, I 
 stood gazing in his face, watching the 
 throbbing of the blue veins across his
 
 LADY IN WAITING, 211 
 
 temples, and marvelling to see how fast 
 they beat. 
 
 As I stood I caught sight of something 
 lying at his feet, and, stooping down, I 
 took up a little gold case, beautifully 
 ornamented with jewels. I had never 
 seen so pretty an ornament before, and, 
 not thinking I was doing any harm, sat 
 down by the fire to examine it ; as I did 
 so I made a false step, and was near 
 falling. The sudden jerk made the case 
 in my hand spring open. 
 
 Inside there was a miniature of a lady, 
 whose beautiful face was quite familiar 
 to me. It was that of the Princess 
 Mary. I felt cold and sick, and was 
 completely absorbed in the contemplation 
 of the portrait, when I felt a hand
 
 212 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 upon my shoulder, and turning saw my 
 Lord Clarendon stooping over me. 
 
 His face was dark as thunder, his 
 white lips actually quivering. 
 
 " Madman," he muttered ; '' did he give 
 you this, Mary?" 
 
 Frightened, I whispered — " Oh, no, it 
 had fallen down." My lord held out his 
 hand, as if to take it, then, with a sudden 
 movement drew back. 
 
 " Wake him," he said, "' and do not 
 tell him I have been here." He drew his 
 cloak round him, and stole out of the 
 room, leaving me very much alarmed. 
 
 I saw there was something connected 
 with the portrait which had made a very 
 powerful impression on my lord, and 
 I feared boded no good to Lawrence. I
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 213 
 
 was still doubtful how to act, when my 
 lord, having altered his mind, returned, 
 and took the case out of my hand. He 
 then called Lawrence by name, in a loud 
 voice ; the sleeping man sprung hastily up 
 and apologized, saying he had been 
 tempted by the warmth and quiet of the 
 room to take a moment's rest. 
 
 " I do not blame thee, my poor boy," 
 said my lord, in a kindly voice ; " you 
 have had horse's work these last few 
 days. But look you, you have dropped 
 some love token ; it seems a pretty toy ;" 
 and, without seeming to notice Lawrence, 
 who thrust his hand into his breast and 
 sprang forward, he pressed the spring of 
 the locket. 
 
 I watched Lawrence, who shrank back,
 
 214 MEMOIES OF A 
 
 and a frightful pang crossed his face, 
 though he did not speak, but stood with 
 head erect, and his eyes fixed on the 
 little glittering casket. My lord looked 
 at him for a moment with an expression 
 of reproach and pity, and then, to my 
 astonishment, he cast it into the fire. 
 
 I know not how I did it — it was the 
 impulse of my heart — but the next 
 moment I was grasping the locket in my 
 scorched hand, and felt that I was held 
 back by Lawrence. 
 
 I heard my Lord Clarendon exclaim 
 " Good Heavens !" and felt his hand, 
 trembling violently, try to raise my 
 head, as he whispered, " Is she hurt, 
 Lawrence?" but he did not seem capable 
 of speaking, and only held me tighter.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 215 
 
 " Take me away from him, Lawrence," 
 I said, for I feared Lord Clarendon now, 
 I saw him so altered; but I was judging 
 him hastily, for he said — 
 
 '' Mary, you reprove me justly. Look, 
 my child! I, an old, gray-headed man, 
 beg thy forgiveness. Mary," he said 
 again, " speak to me, and say you are 
 not hurt. Let me see your poor 
 hand." 
 
 When I held it out, I saw it was not 
 much burnt, though the excessive pain 
 made me feel faint and sick; besides, I 
 had not yet recovered the shock caused 
 by the violent behaviour of my Lord 
 Clarendon, and my only wish was to get 
 away as soon as possible to my own 
 chamber; so I whispered to Lawrence
 
 216 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 my desire to do so, and he led me away, 
 my lord holding the door open for us to 
 pass out, saying as we left the room — 
 
 "Forgive me, Mary." 
 
 Some of old Margery's never-failing 
 salves were brought to light and admin- 
 istered, amongst a host of questions and 
 condolences; and she, having obliged me 
 to take a cordial to soothe my nerves, 
 bid me try to sleep. Once left to 
 myself, I began to think of the scene I 
 had -just witnessed, and how the impulse 
 of passion, which had made me, without 
 being aware of it, thrust my hand into 
 the fire, had only shown itself in another 
 form in the action of which my Lord 
 Clarendon had been guilty. 
 
 My conscience reproached me for
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 217 
 
 the harsh judgment I had passed upon 
 him in my mind ; and I remembered 
 the text I had taken for my morn- 
 ing portion, and knelt down to ask 
 God to impress upon my heart the 
 words — 
 
 " Judge not, that ye be not judged." 
 Then rising, I wrapt a shawl round my 
 arm, and intending to make my peace 
 with Lord Clarendon, when down stairs. 
 When I reached the room in which I 
 expected to find him, high and, as it 
 seemed to me, angry words caught my 
 ears; but not recognizing the voice, and 
 fearful of interrupting, I paused, uncer- 
 tain whether to proceed or not. While 
 I wavered, the door was thrown violently 
 open, and some one called in a loud tone 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 for Mr. Burnett, and I, shrinking back 
 into a window recess, easily escaped 
 notice. 
 
 As Mr. Burnett, coming oiit of his 
 library, hurried across the hall, the man 
 who had called him, and stood with his 
 back to me, addressed him — 
 
 " Burnett, you only can reason with 
 him ; he will not listen to me, or common 
 sense." 
 
 "James, you lie!" exclaimed a voice 
 I knew; and the next minute my dear 
 Mistress Catherine's husband, looking 
 very much agitated, sprang forward, and 
 pushing the other man aside, laid his hand 
 upon Mr. Burnett's shoulder, saying — 
 
 " Listen, old man. James would, he 
 pretends, stem the torrent now, which he
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 219 
 
 himself raised years ago, when Clarendon 
 stood up before him and demanded 
 justice for his daughter. It was he first 
 whispered suspicion. Times are changed 
 now, and truly he has said little of late; 
 but the storm has been gathering silently 
 but surely. Did he try to save us years 
 ago? — nay, I may say months? But 
 now when he knows, and I believe re- 
 joices in his heart, that I am in the 
 hands of a merciless, wrangling mob, 
 with neither money, troops, nor friends 
 to assert my words, he must needs bid 
 me give in; in fact, lay my head upon 
 the block — ay, I speak in earnest — lay 
 it where my father's was before it ; for, 
 on my soul, his advice leads to nothing 
 
 else." 
 
 L 2
 
 220 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 As he finished speaking, he turned 
 away and paced the room like some 
 angry animal, his brother looking at him 
 in silence; Mr. Burnett, seemingly to 
 give time for this burst of passion to 
 subside, was silent too. Presently, Mr. 
 Charles paused, and, turning to his 
 brother, said, in a quiet, sorrowful 
 voice — 
 
 " James, I rage like a madman ; but, 
 by God! I feel like a madman. I swear 
 I would give my best friend — and you 
 know that is saying much, for my friends 
 are few — yet, I would give up my best 
 friend, to bid Clarendon stav. I have 
 better cause to love him than you think ; 
 and, bad as I am, I have been saved 
 many a crime and heart-sting by the
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 221 
 
 man you affirm, ' I would now willingly 
 give up.' D — n tliem all! there is not 
 one amongst tliem I admire or love as 
 I do poor Clarendon," and lie struck his 
 forehead with his clenched hand as he 
 spoke. 
 
 James seemed touched, and said, in an 
 earnest voice — 
 
 " Charles, I have wronged you, and yet 
 I did not mean all you say. Heaven forbid 
 I should. I see it now, he must go, but 
 not die." 
 
 " Die !" burst from Charles's lips. 
 "Who dares to say that word? No, by 
 Heaven, the man who breathes such a 
 wish shall pay the penalty himself. Die !" 
 repeated he ; " my brave and faithful 
 servant; no, by God!"
 
 222 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 I heard a heavy groan beside me, and 
 that instant a figure, which had been 
 concealed by the darkness, glided past 
 me, and I heard Mr. Charles exclaim 
 passionately — 
 
 '^Clarendon! by all that's infernal!" 
 And then my lord threw himself at his 
 feet, and I heard him call " King," and 
 pray God to bless him for the comforts 
 he had given him; saying he had served 
 him faithfully, but must now go, and 
 conjured his Majesty to accede to the 
 cry of his enemies. 
 
 "Nay, even let me die," he said; "it 
 is no braggart boast. I already stand 
 upon the brink of the grave, and the axe 
 will be an easy death. You dare not
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 223 
 
 save me, and now I care not, since I 
 know you have not wronged me." 
 
 The King covered his face with his 
 hands, while the gray-headed minister 
 knelt before him, and offered his life to 
 his country. 
 
 Mr. Burnett and the Duke of York 
 left the room, closing the door, and gro- 
 ping their way across the hall without 
 speaking ; and I, feeling I had learned a 
 terrible secret, went in trembling haste to 
 my own room, my hand and the locket 
 entirely forgotten, as a thousand more 
 important thoughts rushed upon me. 
 
 Yet I knew nothing certainly ; it was 
 all an entangled mystery. I felt afraid 
 of its being true, afraid that I should lose 
 my friend, thinking I could not feel to-
 
 224 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 wards tlie Queen as I had done to simple 
 Mistress Catherine. Thus I remained, 
 hoping for, and fearing, the result, almost 
 forgetting the fate of my Lord Clarendon 
 in the discovery which I feared would 
 cost me a second mother. 
 
 I had very little sleep that night, and 
 felt glad when the sun peeped in at the 
 window, and gave me an excuse to be up 
 and moving. 
 
 In those days a lady's toilet was a 
 much more elaborate and tiresome under- 
 taking than it is at present, and I fear 
 good old Dame Margery, who, amidst her 
 many duties, ranked tirewoman as one, 
 found me that morning somewhat impa- 
 tient. At last she permitted me to leave 
 my room, though even then she affirmed
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 225 
 
 that I was not fit to be seen ; but I cared 
 little for appearances, and, having already 
 heard the well-known creak of Mr. Bur- 
 nett's shoes, I was in great haste to get 
 down stairs. 
 
 He received me, as was usual^ with a 
 kiss and a blessing, and as the flush of 
 eager curiosity had banished all trace of 
 my sleepless night, even complimented me 
 upon my rosy cheeks, saying I grew liker 
 my dear mother every day. 
 
 Breakfast time passed, and although a 
 host of questions trembled upon my lips, 
 I had not the courage to ask one, and let 
 Mr. Burnett bid me good bye and go 
 away, even though in going he said lie 
 was to see my Lord Clarendon on board 
 the ship which was to bear him to exile. 
 
 L 5
 
 226 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 I felt the tears come to my eyes, as I 
 thought I was not to see him again ; and 
 self-reproach for what now seemed to 
 me my great hastiness, was bitterer still ; 
 but I had little time to indulge in such 
 thoughts, as this day being one upon 
 which many of the old and poor came to 
 obtain relief, I had no time to dwell uj)on 
 the scenes of the night before, nor until 
 mid-day had I even a moment to sit 
 down. 
 
 I had scarcely composed myself to rest 
 awhile, when, to my great delight, my 
 Lord Clarendon entered. 
 
 " I have come to bid thee farewell, my 
 child, and to ask you not to remember 
 the events of last night but rather re-
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 227 
 
 member me by the love I have borne 
 you and your dear mother." 
 
 I tried in vain to steady my voice 
 sufficiently to tell him all I felt, but could 
 only clasp his hand and listen to what he 
 said. 
 
 " Thy passion took a generous form, 
 child; mine, God forgive me! was the 
 burst of disappointed pride, and the 
 downfall of a temple which I had been 
 building with my life. You will under- 
 stand me better some day, Mary; but 
 remember what I say now, that I feel I 
 have done my duty to my country." 
 
 After this he gave me a little advice 
 about the management of my private 
 affairs, telling me to follow Mr. Burnett's 
 counsel in everything, and that in after
 
 228 MEMOIES OF A 
 
 years when I wished to choose a guide 
 (he meant a husband), I must even more 
 than ever look to Mr. Burnett's judg- 
 ment; and then he bid me farewell. 
 
 I never saw him again. 
 
 My Lord Clarendon, greatly to my dis- 
 appointment, had not mentioned Law- 
 rence's name, and I was left in a maze of 
 wonder as to what had transpired between 
 them. I was hurt and annoyed at his 
 unkindness in parting without a single 
 word of farewell. But then a gentler 
 spirit came into my heart, and made 
 excuse for him, saying, he must have 
 been much pressed for time, and perhaps 
 had dreaded the pain he would give me 
 by a farewell interview; so I knelt down
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 229 
 
 aud bid hiin farewell in prayer, keeping 
 my burnt hand upon my breast. 
 
 That hand I now somehow looked upon 
 as in a manner belonging to him and his 
 memory, and I almost hoped it might 
 bear some lastins: scar to remind me of 
 
 that night.
 
 230 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " There are times when the heart will refuse 
 O'er joys of the present to dwell, 
 There are moments when mem'ry embues 
 With a sadness she cannot dispel." 
 
 Kext day, when Queen Catherine came 
 as usual, I could not receive her without 
 a feelino; of minsjled ioy and fear, and 
 she, seeing my agitation, questioned me, 
 and, thinking I was ill, caught me in her 
 arms, and called me by a thousand en- 
 dearing names, I all the time clinging to 
 her neck, and saying over and over
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 231 
 
 again to myself that she could not be the 
 Queen. 
 
 I had read of kings and queens, and 
 heard them spoken of in low and mea- 
 sured tones, so no wonder if I doubted 
 my senses now. 
 
 She at length prevailed upon me to 
 unburden my feelings, and laughed very 
 much when she heard what was troubling 
 me, saying that she would always be 
 Mistress Catherine to me. 
 
 After talking to me for a while in this 
 strain, she asked me who told me she 
 was the Queen. Whereupon I was 
 obho:ed to own how I had heard it ; and 
 she then asked me eagerly to repeat all 
 that King Charles had said, and, not con- 
 tent with what 1 told her, she went to Mi\
 
 232 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Burnett's own room, but he being out, 
 sbe had not an opportunity then of find- 
 ing out all about it, and made me 
 again repeat all I could remember, 
 and told me now that I knew who she 
 really was, I had a great secret in my pos- 
 session, which I must keep very carefully. 
 
 This I promised gladly, being proud 
 of the trust, but found another promise 
 I made, that of thinking of her as Mis- 
 tress Catherine only, much more difficult. 
 Mr. Burnett listened very quietly to 
 my confessions that night, and told me in 
 turn how it fell out that the Queen first 
 came to my father's house, clearing up 
 the first mystery of my childhood. 
 
 It seemed that w^hilst there was only a 
 rumour of the marriage between the King
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 233 
 
 and lierself, my father was secretary to 
 the Enghsh ambassador at the Court of 
 Portugal, and my mother, by her gentle- 
 ness and beauty, had won the favour of 
 the royal family, especially of the future 
 Queen of England, who, when it was 
 nearly certain the marriage was to take 
 place, came constantly to converse with 
 my mother, on the manners and usages 
 of her future home. 
 
 This sufficiently explained the reason 
 for the interest she had taken in my 
 mother, and I now found out that it was 
 to her care I owed all the comforts I had 
 been surrounded with during my troubles, 
 for that, during my father's exile, when 
 the rapacious government seized all he 
 possessed, it was her bounty that sup-
 
 234 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 ported my mother and myself; and what 
 struck me as being particularly kind, was 
 that she carefully concealed her share of 
 the matter, overcoming my mother's 
 scruples by making her believe it was a 
 secret pension from the King. 
 
 I loved her much better from that 
 moment, for her delicacy in thus reliev- 
 ing my mother's wants. After I had 
 heard all this from Mr. Burnett, I 
 meditated long, following up the past 
 even as I do now. 
 
 Since then, my heart has learnt to 
 doubt much, and weigh a matter care- 
 fully ere I dare place it among things 
 that are true. It was not so then. I 
 felt all the trust of a youthful heart, 
 and now full to the brim of gratitude 
 
 '^
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 235 
 
 and devotion to my Queen ; nor was 
 it less loyal to the King, who was not 
 only my lawful Prince, but had, I found 
 now, been my father's friend, and even 
 risked much in pardoning him and 
 restoring his estates; nor, lastly, could 
 I forget that I had seen him the loving 
 and beloved husband of her who had 
 been to me as a second mother; and I 
 prayed with tears that night — " God 
 bless the King and Queen." 
 
 As summer advanced, occasional news 
 reached us from Lawrence, who even 
 sent me some little gifts by a friend 
 leaving the French Court for England.
 
 236 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Yet I was disappointed to hear notliing 
 of his return to his country; and when- 
 ever I visited the Duchess of York, I 
 paid great attention, in hopes of hearing 
 what prospect there was of my seeing 
 him again. 
 
 At last, to my intense joy, the glad 
 news came. 
 
 One day, as I was sitting with Anne 
 of York, the Princess Mary, who hap- 
 pened to be asleep on one of the 
 couches, awoke whilst we were con- 
 versing about my Lord Clarendon, 
 and said, with a sort of mocking 
 laugh — 
 
 " Your Grace's little saint would have 
 no objection to hear the news-'^ 
 
 " What news?" asked the Duchess.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 287 
 
 " That my grandfather is going to 
 dispense with the presence of his 
 charming secretary. Mary is one of 
 his ardent admirers, and will have 
 no objection to see him at her side 
 again." 
 
 I looked round, flushing crimson, but 
 more Avith joyous surprise than aught 
 else; though my blush seemed laid to 
 another account, for the Princess laughed 
 loudly, as she said — 
 
 " What a becoming blush the little 
 lady wears! Surely, there must have 
 been some love passages to warrant 
 such a display." 
 
 I now began to see what she meant, 
 and feeling very indignant, rose and 
 asked permission to retire to my home,
 
 238 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 at which the Duchess, who was taking 
 no notice of what was going on, except 
 to smile, patted me on the head, 
 saying — 
 
 " Do not mind Mary, child ; she would 
 fain have him herself." 
 
 The Princess started to her feet, shak- 
 ing with passion, as she said — 
 
 " You lie ! mother ; and if I did, 
 is it my fault that I have plebeian 
 tastes?" 
 
 The Duchess turned away, and whis- 
 pered to me to make my escape before 
 the storm burst; and I, nothing loath, 
 hurried away. 
 
 On reaching home, Mr. Burnett cor- 
 roborated the tidings, and increased my 
 delight by telling me that the Duke of
 
 LADY m WAITING. 239 
 
 York had obtained permission fi'om the 
 King to appoint Lawrence his own 
 secretary, thus giving him a higher 
 position than ever. 
 
 Everything around me now wore a 
 brighter aspect. The thought of his 
 return was always before me, and every- 
 thing I did gave me greater pleasure 
 than before, as I thought, " My dear 
 Lawi'ence will see what I do." 
 
 But my greatest delight was in ar- 
 ranging my garden, and trimming the 
 overgrowth of roses, which flourished 
 everywhere in entangled masses. 
 
 At last, after a week of watching, he 
 arrived, looking paler and older, but still 
 the same as ever.
 
 240 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 His duties did not occupy him very 
 mucli, so tliat lie came very often, and 
 even began teaching me to speak 
 French ; and having brought some 
 plays and romances in that language 
 he soon awakened my interest, and, to 
 my great joy and pride, in a few weeks 
 I could make an intelligible translation 
 of the easiest. 
 
 I, glad of any excuse to be amongst 
 flowers and sunshine, would throw aside 
 my books or work, and, singing as gay 
 as the birds themselves, run off to train 
 my unruly flowers. 
 
 AVhen Lawrence came, and found me 
 thus occupied, he would throw oflP his 
 gay coat and set merrily about helping
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 241 
 
 me, laughing when he pricked his fingers, 
 or got caught by the sprays I was 
 fastening up. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " But does she dream ? Has fear again 
 Perplexed the workings of her brain, 
 Or did a voice, all music then. 
 Come from the grove low whispering near." 
 
 Moore. 
 
 My gardening was mucli pleasanter to 
 me than receiving visitors, and being 
 quite out of sight of the street or front 
 rooms, I managed to avoid most of them. 
 My reader must not think I overrate it 
 when I talk of " most," for now rarely 
 a day passed without some fine folks 
 coming.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 243 
 
 Many were young men, who, as Mr. 
 Burnett laughingly told me, thought the 
 gilding the finest part of the picture, 
 which expression I understood, and we 
 had many a laugh when the porter told 
 told us " My Lord this," or " Mr. that," 
 had been at the door again. 
 
 One of these, however, found out my 
 trick, and^ inquiring for Mr. Burnett, 
 gained admittance, and one day, when in 
 the very act of nailing a long, tiresome 
 spray of woodbine up my favourite bower, 
 I was surprised by the cordial and tri- 
 umphant greeting of the gay young cava- 
 lier, who had been my partner upon the 
 day of the Christmas feast, and who, I 
 found afterwards, was named Walter 
 Fenton. 
 
 m2
 
 244 MEMOIES OF A 
 
 Upon this his first successful visit, he 
 found me, as I said, very busy, but what 
 was rather uncomfortable, perched upon 
 the top rail of a ladder. 
 
 Disconcerted at the unwonted sight of 
 a strange face in my private haunts, I 
 attempted to return his salutation in a 
 properly decorous manner — (rather a 
 difficult proceeding, during those days of 
 stately courtesy, in the position I was 
 in). I began descending, being careful to 
 avoid showing my ankles, but that was 
 quite impossible, and I caught him look- 
 ing on with a queer smile. 
 
 '' Are those the shoes you wore at the 
 feast at Chelsea," he asked, rather oddly ; 
 then, seeing I looked surprised, he added, 
 ''Nay, don't look angry, I think they
 
 LADY inVaitixg. 245 
 
 are very pretty; but are they really the 
 same?" 
 
 To this I said — " No, what could make 
 him think so." 
 
 "Ah! many things; I've dreamt of 
 them since, thinking I saw them in a 
 great heap of lavender and rose-leaves, 
 and in company with a host of others 
 almost as pretty." 
 
 I could not help laughing, and charged 
 him with telling stories, and, taking ad- 
 vantage of having sisters (as I supposed 
 he had) who would let him into the 
 secrets of a wardrobe. 
 
 " You have guessed it ; but do pray 
 come down ; really I cannot talk of such 
 serious matters, and see those tantahzing 
 little feet looking so impudently in my
 
 246 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 tkce. Come, let me help you." He 
 advanced nearer, but this was a move- 
 ment I did not approve, so I gave a little 
 spring, ^vislling to jump clear down. 
 
 My dress was fastened by a branch 
 unluckilv, and if it had not been that he 
 caught me in his arms, I must have had 
 rather a severe fall. 
 
 Blushins; and confused at mv awkward- 
 uess, I drew my hands out of his, and 
 proceeded to show him the way back to 
 the house, but he objected to going in, 
 saying he preferred sunlight as long as 
 lie could have it; so we sat down upon 
 a rustic chair, and for some little time we 
 were both silent. At leno;th he said — 
 
 " You spoke just now of my having 
 sisters. I have only one, but she is
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 247 
 
 worth a whole family. Would you like 
 to know her?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes," I answered; " I never had 
 a girl as a friend. Where is she?" 
 
 "Not far off; she is in Kensington just 
 now; will you come and see her? Let 
 me take you there. I am sure you will 
 be friends; I have told her of you." 
 
 "Told her of me, why you did not 
 know me." 
 
 " Yes I did, and heard of you too a 
 great deal. I do not so easily forget a 
 pretty face." 
 
 "Or a pretty pair of shoes," said I, 
 laughing; for somehow I felt quite at 
 my ease as soon as he spoke of his sistei', 
 
 " Ah ! too true ; I have a good memory. 
 But come, let us go to Kensington.
 
 248 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Alice is all alone ; we shall give her a 
 joyful surprise. She cannot come to see 
 you; she hurt her back years ago, and 
 can scarcely move at times." 
 
 Hearing this, I wished more than 
 ever to see her, and, after a time, pro- 
 posed to seek Mr. Burnett to escort me. 
 
 He, having put aside his work for the 
 day, readily consented, and in a very 
 short time we were trudging merrily in 
 the direction of Kensington. 
 
 Mr. Fenton talked all the time of the 
 delights of a country life, telHng us 
 how beloved his father was by his 
 people, but that thinking he might serve 
 his country better by being at Court, he 
 had given up his peaceful life. 
 
 Mr. Burnett applauded him w^armly,
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 249 
 
 counselling his son to follow so good an 
 example. 
 
 During our walk I found my new 
 aeqaintance was a soldier, and brimful of 
 military ardour ; somehow this knowledge 
 made me think of what Lawrence had 
 said with regard to being a soldier, 
 and mentally I compared him to this one. 
 
 When we reached Sir William Fen- 
 ton's house in Kensington, I was en- 
 chanted by the beautiful garden leading 
 to the door, and not less so by the little 
 room into which we were ushered. 
 
 " Oh ! how pretty !" burst involuntarily 
 from my lips, as I gazed round. Nor 
 need my reader wonder at this. 
 
 The room was hung with pictures, 
 and every here and there decorated 
 
 M 5
 
 250 MEMOIRS or A 
 
 with statues and rare vases; stands of 
 lovely flowers were clustered all about; 
 while several cages full of gay little birds 
 added to the charm. 
 
 Mr. Fenton looked pleased with my 
 admiration, and lingered a little ere he 
 proposed to seek out his sister, whom 
 he called the presiding genius of this 
 Eden. Just as he was turning to go, 
 a voice, so rich and full as to sound like 
 music itself, said — 
 
 " I am here, dear Walter," and a 
 little white hand put back a silk curtain 
 that hung across a recess window. 
 
 His sister, for it was she, might in- 
 deed be the goddess of this little Paradise. 
 I had never seen a face so beautifully 
 perfect, or beaming with such kindness
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 251 
 
 and affection ; and, without thinking I was 
 a stranger, but acting as I often did by 
 impulse, utterly regardless of decorum, 
 I threw myself upon my knees beside 
 her couch, and kissed her as if we had 
 been friends for years. 
 
 A bright colour flushed to her face, and 
 half returning my caress, she looked 
 to Walter, seemingly not a little per- 
 plexed; but noticing my distress when 
 Mr. Burnett, who had been much scan- 
 dalized by my conduct, began to make 
 an apology for me, she put her arm 
 round my neck, and drawing my now 
 crimsoned face to hers, kissed me, 
 saying— 
 
 " We are both lonely girls, we ought- 
 to love each other. I often wished to
 
 252 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 know you, and I am quite content with 
 what I see." 
 
 The visit was a very short one, but 
 the beginning of a friendship which 
 brightened and cheered many a day. 
 
 Alice — for by that sweet name was 
 my new friend called — became every 
 day dearer to me, and I also propor- 
 tionably happier. Her illness had given 
 her time for reflection, and enabled her 
 to advise me in many matters, teaching 
 me how to rule my conduct when with 
 others, and regulate my time and duty 
 when alone ; giving me the advantage 
 of her former experience, and all this in 
 such an humble, meek way, that I began 
 to think her almost an angel, and feel 
 utterly unworthy of her friendship.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 253 
 
 Many were the pleasant walks I took 
 to Kensington, generally escorted home 
 again by Walter — (as he had taught me 
 to call him) — for, though much engaged 
 on duty at Court — much more, he said, 
 than suited him — he generally managed 
 to spend a little time with us, listening 
 attentively, though our conversation 
 often took a very serious turn, and I 
 thought would likely enough weary him. 
 
 Though Alice was unable to visit 
 about herself, she took great interest 
 and pleasure in all I did, remembering 
 often better than I did the names and 
 wants of those I told her of. Even 
 when in great suffering, she insisted 
 upon my telling her of those poor things 
 I visited.
 
 254 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 Coming in suddenly one day, I found 
 her weeping bitterly. At first she 
 attempted to conceal her tears, but in 
 vain; for, as I held her in my arms, I 
 could feel the long shivering sobs; and 
 anxious to comfort her, I begged ear- 
 nestlv to be allowed to share her 
 confidence. 
 
 She did not answer for a while, and 
 then only shook her head, as she gazed 
 in my face. The expression of hers was 
 absolutely ghastly. 
 
 " Alice, darling," I said, '' what has 
 happened? Tell me at once. Surely 
 I can comfort you — at least, help you to 
 bear it." 
 
 For some time she remained silent, 
 though she clung to me more closely.
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 255 
 
 At last I felt her grasp relax, and she 
 sank back — but whether in a famt or 
 sleep I did not at first know — and 
 pillowing her head upon my arm, re- 
 mained watching for her to awake. 
 
 The last glimmer of day died away, 
 the quiet twilight stole into the room, 
 and then the moon, in all her pure 
 loveliness, shed her silvery light in at 
 the open window. From my post by 
 Alice's bed I could see part of the 
 garden, and watch the laurel leaves 
 shining like silver in the moonbeams. 
 
 Presently, the silence which had 
 grown almost painful was broken by a 
 quick step, and in an instant Walter stood 
 by me. 
 
 " Oh! Mary," he exclaimed; then,
 
 256 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 seeing Alice, he started, and stooping 
 down, gazed into her face. 
 
 I explained how it was. 
 
 " It is often thus,'' he whispered 
 sadly. " Poor Alice ! she suffers more 
 than we think, and is too kind to 
 complain !" 
 
 He stooped to press his lips upon her 
 cheek. As his lips did so, she smiled, 
 and murmured a name. 
 
 Walter started back, as if stung; 
 while, even dark as it was, I saw his 
 face flush crimson, and darting an 
 inquiring look at me, he said — 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 But I had not recognized the word, 
 and told him so. Apparently satisfied 
 with tliis, he turned away, and sat down
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 257 
 
 in the window; and I being directly 
 opposite, could see the agitation he en- 
 deavoured to control. 
 
 He was usually so calm and gentle 
 that I felt doubly distressed to witness 
 such a display of passion, and felt that 
 some terrible mystery was connected 
 with Alice. 
 
 At last she moved, and fearing she 
 might again mention the name that had 
 affected Walter so deeply, I tried to arouse 
 her. At first she gazed round in confu- 
 sion, but when her brother clasped her in 
 liis arms, she regained her consciousness, 
 and asked what had happened; and 
 Walter beo:2:ed me to 2:0 into the draw- 
 ing-room, and there wait for him. I saw 
 he wished to talk to her, and so left them.
 
 258 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 A bright fire was almost eclipsing the 
 light of two candles standing upon the 
 table, upon which lay many of those 
 little things, such as you only find in a 
 lady's room. 
 
 I sat down and began listlessly turning 
 over the leaves of a blotting-book of 
 Alice's; as I did so I saw a pencil 
 likeness of a man, whose face, but for its 
 expression, would have been very hand- 
 some, and yet, regular and beautiful as 
 the features were, there was a look which 
 made me shudder, and hastily put it 
 back within the leaves. Presently Sir 
 William, and then Walter and Alice, 
 entered; so we began talking of all 
 sorts of things, and soon the bright 
 blaze and gay room gave us a sort of
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 259 
 
 cheerfulness, and by degrees we became 
 very merry, Walter telling us some new 
 gossip, and relating many droll anecdotes 
 of those high in favour or in power. 
 After a short silence he asked — 
 
 '' Have you heard the last news of 
 Clarendon's heau ideal secretary? by my 
 faith, he has got himself into no small 
 trouble. I believe he is some sort of 
 friend of yours. Lady Mary, so you will 
 be interested. It seems that the elder 
 Princess of York has found out the force 
 of her charms some time ago, and has 
 been practising them somewhat rashly of 
 late, but in the last venture has well nigh 
 lost her balance, and followed her own 
 bait; in plain English, she has been 
 caught pledging her faith to this same
 
 260 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 secretary, who, it would seem, is nothing 
 loath to mate with royalty. The King 
 has almost gone beside himself, and 
 swears Lawrence shall be hanged, and 
 the lady married forthwith. The Duke 
 of York lectured her for one hour, and 
 cried over her for the two following. 
 But now comes the pith of the story. A 
 second deputation is to go to William of 
 Orange, beseeching him to come and 
 marry the English Crown. Truly, it is 
 an honour to our nation to have to beg 
 a German husband for her who may one 
 day rule our country." 
 
 '' Walter," said his father, in a re- 
 proving tone, ''what do you mean? you 
 speak " 
 
 '' As I feel, father," and with a flushed
 
 LADY IN WAITING. 261 
 
 cheek lie rose, and seemed about to de- 
 part, evidently anxious to end the con- 
 versation. 
 
 Sir William kept his eyes thoughtfully 
 fixed upon his son, but did not speak. 
 Alice bnly reproving him for going so 
 soon, but her brother did not seem to 
 hear, or at least to attend to her, until 
 she said — 
 
 " How is Mary to go home if you run 
 away." 
 
 As he heard this he turned to his 
 father, who smiled now, as he said — 
 
 " Thou art a wild boy, Walter ; but sit 
 down, and by and by I will reason with 
 you." 
 
 So he sat down, and after a shght 
 pause we began to talk as if no inter-
 
 262 MEMOIRS OF A LADY IN WAITING. 
 
 riiption had taken place, tliough I saw 
 that if any allusion was made to the 
 Court, Walter tacitly avoided it, appear- 
 ing to wince under his father's eye. 
 
 That night, as we walked home, he 
 scarcely spoke, except to answer me when 
 I addressed him; and I, after saying a 
 great deal without any apparent effect, 
 was piqued and grew silent too; so we 
 had a particularly unsociable walk, and I 
 took much pains to call him at parting 
 " Captain Fen ton." 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 LONDON: 
 F. SHOBERL, PRINTER, 37, DEAN STREET, SOHO, VV.
 
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 le Private Journal of the Marquess 
 of Hastins^s, Governor-General and 
 Commanfler in-Chief in India, edited 
 by his Dauj^hter, Sophia the Mar- 
 L'hioness of I3ute. 
 
 ;collections of a Winter Campaign in 
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 .T. Jones, R.N. 
 
 vo Years in Syria, byT. Lewis Farley 
 ary of Travels in Three Quarters of 
 the Globe, by an Australian Settler, 
 ount Lebanon and its Inhabitants, a 
 Ten Years' Residence, from 1842 to 
 18.52, by Col. Churchill, 
 avel. by Dr. John Shaw, 
 jtters on India, by E. Sullivan, Esq. 
 le Rock-Gibraltar, by Col. Hort. 
 voYe.-xrs in China, by Dr. McPherson. 
 le Cliinese \^ ar, by Lt. Oucliterlony. 
 jcollections of Service in China, by 
 Col. Cuuynhame. 
 
 avels in Turkey, hy Captain Slade, 
 Admiral in the Turkish Fleet, 
 impaigning in Kaffirland, by Captain 
 King. 
 
 rs. Jameson's Lives of Female Sove- 
 reigns. 
 
 rs. Jameson's Characteristics of 
 Women. 
 :»e Language of Flowers. 
 
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 The Management of Bees, by Samuel 
 
 Bagsier, Jun. 
 The Handi)ook of Turning. 
 Park Riding, with some Remarks ou 
 
 theArt of Horsemanship,byJ.Rimell 
 
 Dunbar, Professor of Riding. 
 Adventures of a Gentleman in Search 
 
 of a Horse, by Sir George Stephens, 
 
 with illustrations by Cruikshank. 
 Handy Book for Rifle Volunteers, by 
 
 Captain Hartley. 
 
 Fiction. 
 
 Hopes and Fears ; or, Scenes from the 
 
 Life of a Spinsler,by Iheauthorof the 
 
 Heir of Redclyffe, Heartsease, &c. 
 
 Almack's, a Novel. 
 
 The Dean ; or, the Popular Preacher, 
 
 by the author ^>f Anne Sherwood. 
 Harriette Browne's School Days. 
 Faul FerrolLbythe author of IX Poems 
 
 by V. 
 Year after Year, by the author of Paul 
 
 FerroU. 
 Cesar Birotteau. A translation from 
 
 the French of De Balzac. 
 Memoirs of a Lady in Waiting by the 
 
 author of Adventures of Mrs. (Jol. 
 
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 Nelly Carew, by Marguerite A. Power. 
 Helen Lester, by the authors of Gare- 
 
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 sions, Wines, Plate, Jewellery, Books, Guns, Band Instruments, 
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 Lady Chatterton, Sir Henry Bulwer, Walter Savage Landor, Mrs. Bar- 
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 Miss Power, &c. 
 
 LIST OF RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The Management of Bees, by Samuel 
 
 Bags' er, Jim. 
 The Handoook of Turning. 
 Park Riding, with some Remarks on 
 theArtof Horsemanship.byJ.llimell 
 Dunbar, Professor of Riding. 
 Adventures of a Gentleman in Search 
 
 M1SCEI.IMNEOU8. 
 
 The Private Journal of the Marquess 
 of Hastings. Governor-General and 
 Commander in-Chief in India, edited 
 by his Daughter. Sophia the Mar- 
 chioness of Bute. 
 
 Recollections of a Winter Campaign in 
 India in 1857-8, by Captain Oliver 
 J. Jones. R.N. 
 
 Two Years in Syria. byT. Lewis Farley 
 
 Diavy of Travels in Three Quarters of 
 the Globe, by an Australian Settler. 
 
 Mount Lebanon and its Inhabitants, a 
 Ten Years' Residence, from 1842 to 
 1852, by Col. Churchill. 
 
 Travel, by Dr. Jolin Shaw. 
 
 Letters on India, by E. Sullivan, Esq. 
 
 The Rock-Gibraltar, by Col. Hort. 
 
 TwoYears in China, by Dr. McPhersnn. 
 
 The Chinese War. by Lt. Ourhlerlony. 
 
 Recollections of Service in China, by 
 Col. Cunynhame. 
 
 Travels in Turkey, by Captain Slade, 
 Admiral in the Turkish Kleet. 
 
 Campaigning in Kaffirland. by Captain 
 King. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's Lives of Female Sove- 
 reigns. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's Characteristics of 
 Women. 
 
 The Language of Flowers. 
 
 of a Horse, by Sir George Stephens, 
 
 with illustrations by Cruikshank. 
 Handy Book for Rifle Volunteers, \>y 
 
 Captain Hartley. 
 
 Fiction. 
 
 Hopes and Fears ; or. Scenes from the 
 
 Life of a Spinster, by iheauthorof the 
 
 Heir of Reiklyffe, Heartsease, &c. 
 
 Almack's, a.»Novel. 
 
 The Dean; or, the Popular Preacher, 
 
 by the author of Anne Sherwood. 
 Harriette Browne's School Days. 
 Faul FerroU.by the author of IX Poems 
 
 by V. 
 Year after Year, by the author of Paul 
 
 FerroU. 
 Cesar Birotteau. A translation from 
 
 the F'rench of De Balzac. 
 Memoirs of a Lady in Waiting by the 
 
 author of Adventures of Mrs. CoL 
 
 Somerset in CaftVaria. 
 Nelly Carew, by Marguerite A. Power. 
 Helen Lester, by the authors of Gare- 
 , stone Hall. 
 
 The Constitutional Press Magazine. 
 
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 <ind Fine Arts. 
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 fiction. 
 
 HOPES AND FEARS; 
 
 OR, SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF A SPINSTER. By the 
 
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