In truth, as Dame Watt had said, he had begun well--Gerald Walter John
Percy Mertoun, Marquess of Roxholm; and well it seemed he would go on.
He throve in such a way as was a wonder to his physicians and nurses,
the first gentlemen finding themselves with no occasion for practising
their skill, since he suffered from no infant ailments whatsoever, but
fed and slept and grew lustier and fairer every hour. He grew so
finely--perhaps because his young mother had defied ancient custom and
forbidden his limbs and body to be bound--that at three months he was
as big and strong as an infant of half a year. 'Twas plain he was built
for a tall man with broad shoulders and noble head. But a few months
had passed before his baby features modelled themselves into promise
of marked beauty, and his brown eyes gazed back at human beings, not
with infant vagueness, but with a look which had in it somewhat of
question and reply. His retinue of serving-women were filled with such
ardent pride in him that his chief nurse had much to do to keep the
peace among them, each wishing to be first with him, and being jealous
of another who made him laugh and crow and stretch forth his arms that
she might take him. The Commandress-in-Chief of the nurses was no
ordinary female. She was the widow of a poor chaplain--her name
Mistress Rebecca Halsell--and she gratefully rejoiced to have had the
happiness to fall into a place of such honour and responsibility. She
was of sober age, and being motherly as well as discreet, kept such
faithful watch over him as few children begin life under.

The figure of this good woman throughout his childhood stood out from
among all others surrounding him, with singular distinctness. She
seemed not like a servant, nor was she like any other in the household.
As he ripened in years, he realised that in his earliest memories of
her there was a recollection of a certain grave respect she had seemed