an easy benefice in the church where he could meditate on his past and
build for the future.

"And pray for Lady Castlemain's unbaptized children, your Majesty?" asked
George, whereupon the king shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Lady
Castlemain and Charles were--well, there had been talk about them, to say
the least.

The court ladies laughed when George declined to drink himself drunk or
refused to help his former companions fleece a stranger. Nell Gwynn told
him that even his language had grown too polite for polite society, and,
lacking emphasis, was flat as stale wine. In truth, it may well be said
that George had set out to mend his ways under adverse conditions. But he
_had_ set out to do it, and that in itself was a great deal, for there is
a likable sort of virtue in every good intent. He had reached the first
of the three great R's in the act of repentance, Recognition; Regret and
Recession being the second and third--all necessary to regeneration. I
had faith in his good intentions, but doubted his ability.

Hamilton and I had become fast friends, and by his help my suit of his
sister Mary had prospered to the extent of a partial engagement of
marriage. That is to say, Mary's mother, an old worldling of the hardest
type, had thought it well to secure me and to keep me dangling, to be
landed in case no better fish took the hook. I was aware of the mother's
selfish purposes, but did not believe that Mary shared them, though I
knew her to be an obedient child. This peculiar condition of affairs
somewhat nettled me, though I do not remember that I was at all unhappy
because of it.

But to come back to George. One day, a fortnight before Frances's arrival