Mary sighed. Anything else was unthinkable, of course.

'You should not concern yourself. As long as the laws are not made more harsh we shall be able to look after ourselves.'

Dear Walter! He was so resigned. Perhaps she was apt to become excited over this matter simply because she was about

to bear a child. The future looked bright enough. Soon the uncomfortable business of child bearing would be over; they would have their house and she would be a happy matron. How different that would be from sharing her brother-in-law's house at Acton Burncll—large and comfortable though it was. Perhaps the Duke of Kingston hoped they would buy Tong Castle, for he wanted to sell it. But no, Tong Castle was too grand for them; they would not be able to keep it up, for in spite of her dowry they were not rich according to the Duke's standards as Walter was the second son of the late Sir John Smythc and naturally his inheritance could not equal that of Sir Edward, his brother, who had inherited the title and the bulk of the family estates.

She caught her breath suddenly. 'Walter, I think ... I am almost certain ... that my time has come.'

Walter lost no time in summoning the midwife.

Mary was right. Within a few hours she had become the mother of a daughter.

She was a little disappointed, having hoped that the firstborn would be a son; but the child was healthy and perfect in every way. She was named Mary Anne; but as her mother was Mary the baby soon became known as Maria. Little Maria grew prettier every day; and very soon her mother was once more pregnant.

Mary Smythc was determined that her second child should be born in a home of her own; so when Maria was only a few months old her parents gave up their custodianship of Tong Castle and came to Red Rice to stay with Mary's brother, Mr. Henry Errington, while they searched for a suitable residence. This did not take long to find; and before the birth of little Walter they had settled into a large country house in Bram-bridge which was not very far from Red Rice and had the additional advantage of being close to the town of Winchester.

Here Mary settled happily and during the next few years increased her family. John followed Walter; and after him rame Charles. Henry and Frances—a pleasant little family, living comfortably in the country, undisturbed by great events

in the capital. The old King died and young George came to the throne; they heard of his marriage to Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, of his coronation and the birth of the Prince of Wales, which was followed in due course by the birth of a second son.

'Oh yes,' repeated Walter Smythe, 'the Hanoverians arc here to stay.'

Maria Smythe lay on the hard pallet in her sparsely furnished room—which was more like a cell—and wept silently, asking herself how she could bear to be torn away from this place which had been her home for so many years.

Tomorrow Papa would come to take her away and she would leave her school-fellows, the dear nuns, the Mother Superior, the routine of the convent and Paris, and go back to England. How strange it seemed that when she had known she was to come here she had wept as bitterly at the thought of leaving her home in Brambridge as she was now weeping at the prospect of leaving the convent.

Maria sat up. Perhaps there was comfort in that. Perhaps she would become reconciled to life in Brambridge just as she had to life in the convent before she had grown to love it. But it would be different, of course. At home she would have to think about marrying for she knew well enough that this was the reason why she was being brought back to England. It happened with regularity to all the girls. They came here to be educated as good Catholics in the Convent of the Blew Nuns; then they returned home where suitable husbands were found for them; they produced children and, if they were girls, they in their turn came to the Convent. That was the pattern of Catholic girlhood.

The door opened slightly and her sister Frances appeared. Frances's eyes were red with weeping and she sniffed pathetically as she ran to the pallet and threw herself into Maria's arms.

'It's all right,' soothed Maria. 'You'll be all right when I'm gone. And in a very short time it will be your turn/

Frances looked up at her sister with adoration. Maria was not only the most beautiful person she knew; she was the kindest. What was little Frances going to do—newly arrived at the convent—with no Maria to protect her?

Maria immediately dismissed her own misgivings in order to comfort her sister. She pushed the heavy corn-coloured hair out of her eyes and said: 'Mamma and Papa will come and visit you perhaps. Perhaps I shall come myself. And in a very short time—far shorter than seems possible now— you will be feeling sad because it is your turn to leave all this.'

'But you will not be here, Maria.'

'I shall write to you.'

'But they will find a husband for you and even when I come home you won't be there.'

'I shall invite you to my house and find a husband for you. You will live close by and we shall see each other every day.'

'Oh, Maria, is that possible?'

'With Maria Smythe all things are possible.'

Frances began to giggle. 'Oh, Maria, Reverend Mother would say that you blaspheme.'

'Then I pray you do not tell her or I shall be summoned to her presence.' Maria folded her arms in an imitation of Reverend Mother. '"Maria Smythe, I hear that you believe yourself omniscient." "Yes, Holy Mother." "Then I pray you go to Versailles and tell the King that he must give up his evil ways." "Yes, Holy Mother." ' She began to laugh. 'Oh, I am ridiculous, am I not, Frances? Still, you are laughing.'

'But you did go to Versailles, Maria, once.'

Frances was asking for the story which she had heard before, so Maria obligingly told it.

'It was when Mamma and Papa came to visit me here ... as they will come to visit you. And naturally they took me to see

the sights. One of the most exciting of these was a visit to Versailles. Oh, Frances, you will love to visit Versailles. There is not another palace in the world like it. The gardens, the fountains, the statues ... they are like something you have dreamed of. And the great palace with all its windows that sparkle like diamonds when the sun is on them.'

'I wish we could go together, Maria.'

4 Well, we will talk about it when you come back to England. And we shall laugh together. Oh, you will love it here. Everyone seems so gay.' Maria's face clouded for a moment. 'Except some of the poor people. But you will love Versailles and you can go into the Palace and see the King having his dinner. It is so funny. There he sits in state behaving as though he is quite alone and only the barrier separates him from all the people who have come to watch him eat. I have heard that the funniest thing is the way in which he can knock the top off his egg at one stroke. But, alas, he was not eating an egg on the day Mamma and Papa took me to see him dine.'

Frances was already beginning to laugh at what was to come, but Maria had no intention of arriving at a hasty conclusion.

'It is necessary to have a ticket to get into the Palace and this Papa had. Anyone can go in provided they have a ticket, except begging friars and people marked with the small pox, but before you go in you must have a sword and a hat and there are people at the gates selling these. You will laugh at the people, Frances. They put on their hats and flourish their swords and some of them have never carried a sword before. And then into the Palace. You will never forget it. It is quite magnificent. The hall of mirrors! You can see yourself reflected again and again and again.