Sir Peter Lely was kind enough to bestow upon every beauty of King
Charles's court his brush made to live on canvas. She was indeed a
lovely creature and a happy one, her life with her husband and child so
contenting her that, young though she was, she cared as little for
Court life as my lord Duke, who, having lived longer in its midst than
she, had no taste for its intrigues and the vices which so flourished
in its hot-bed. Though the noblest Duke in England, and of a family
whose whole history was enriched with services to the royal house, his
habits and likings were not such as made noblemen favourites at the
court of Charles the Second. He was not given to loose adventure, and
had not won the heart of my Lady Castlemaine, since he had made no love
to her, which was not a thing to be lightly forgiven to any handsome
and stalwart gentleman. Besides this, he had been so moved by the
piteous case of the poor Queen, during her one hopeless battle for her
rights when this termagant beauty was first thrust upon her as lady of
her bedchamber, that on those cruel days during the struggle when the
poor Catherine had found herself sitting alone, deserted, while her
husband and her courtiers gathered in laughing, worshipping groups
about her triumphant rival, this one gentleman had sought by his
courteous respect to support her in her humiliated desolation, though
the King himself had first looked black and then had privately mocked
at him.

"He hath fallen in love with her," the Castlemaine had said afterwards
to a derisive group; "he hath fallen deep in love--with her long teeth
and her Portuguese farthingale."

"She needs love, poor soul, Heaven knows," the Duke returned, when this
speech was repeated to him. "A poor girl taken from her own country,
married to a King, and then insulted by his Court and his mistresses!