Stray Pearls | Page 5

Westminster; while I, with little Berry, had a tutor to teach us
Latin and French, and my mother's waiting-maid instructed me in
sewing and embroidery. As I grew older I had masters in dancing and
the spinnet, and my mother herself was most careful of my deportment.
Likewise she taught me such practices of our religion as I had not learnt
from my grandmother, and then it was I found that I was to be brought
up differently from Eustace and the others. I cried at first, and declared
I would do like Eustace and my father. I did not think much about it; I
was too childish and thoughtless to be really devout; and when my
mother took me in secret to the queen's little chapel, full of charming
objects of devotion, while the others had to sit still during sermons two
hours long, I began to think that I was the best off.
Since that time I have thought much more, and talked the subject over
both with my dear eldest brother and with good priests, both English
and French, and I have come to the conclusion, as you know, my
children, that the English doctrine is no heresy, and that the Church is a
true Church and Catholic, though, as my home and my duties lie here, I
remain where I was brought up by my mother, in the communion of my
husband and children. I know that this would seem almost heresy to our
good Pere Chavand, but I wish to leave my sentiments on record for
you, my children.
But how I have anticipated my history! I must return, to tell you that
when I was just sixteen I was told that I was to go to my first ball at
Whitehall. My hair was curled over my forehead, and I was dressed in

white satin, with the famous pearls of Ribaumont round my neck,
though of course they were not to be mine eventually.
I knew the palace well, having often had the honour of playing with the
Lady Mary, who was some years younger than I, so that I was much
less alarmed than many young gentlewomen there making their first
appearance. But, as my dear brother Eustace led me into the outer hall,
close behind my father and mother, I heard a strange whistle, and,
looking up, I saw over the balustrade of the gallery a droll monkey face
looking out of a mass of black curls, and making significant grimaces
at me.
I knew well enough that it was no other than the Prince of Wales. He
was terribly ugly and fond of teasing, but in a good-natured way,
always leaving off when he saw he was giving real pain, and I liked
him much better than his brother, the Duke of York, who was proud
and sullen. Yet one could always trust the Duke, and that could not be
said for the Prince.
By the time we had slowly advanced up the grand staircase into the
banqueting-hall, and had made our reverences to the king and queen--
ah, how stately and beautiful they looked together!--the Prince had
stepped in some other way, and stood beside me.
'Well, Meg,' he said, in an undertone--'I beg pardon, Mrs. Margaret--
decked out in all her splendour, a virgin for the sacrifice!'
'What sacrifice, sir?' I asked, startled.
'Eh!' he said. 'You do not know that le futur is arrived!'
'She knows nothing, your Highness,' said Eustace.
'What, oh, what is there to know?' I implored the Prince and my brother
in turn to inform me, for I saw that there was some earnest in the
Prince's jests, and I knew that the queen and my mother were looking
out for a good match for me in France.
'Let me show him to you,' presently whispered the Prince, who had
been called off by his father to receive the civilities of an ambassador.
Then he pointed out a little wizened dried-up old man, who was
hobbling up to kiss Her Majesty's hand, and whose courtly smile
seemed to me to sit most unnaturally on his wrinkled countenance. I
nearly screamed. I was forced to bite my lips to keep back my tears,
and I wished myself child enough to be able to scream and run away,
when my mother presently beckoned me forward. I hardly had strength

to curtsey when I was actually presented to the old man. Nothing but
terror prevented my sinking on the floor, and I heard as through falling
waters something about M. le Marquis de Nidemerle and Mrs.
Margaret Ribmont, for so we were called in England.
By and by I found that I was dancing, I scarcely knew how or with
whom, and I durst not look up the whole