estates of a man who was the most splendid sportsman of his day, whose
moors and forests provided the finest game and his stables the finest
horses in England. Women who were beauties found that in his stately
rooms they might gather courts about them. Men of letters knew that in
his libraries they might delve deep into the richest mines. Those who
loved art found treasures in his galleries, and wide comprehension and
finished tastes in their master.

And over the assemblies, banquets, and brilliant hunt balls there
presided the woman with the loveliest eyes, 'twas said, in England,
Scotland, Ireland, or Wales--the violet eyes King Charles had been
stirred by and which had caused him a bitter scene with my Lady
Castlemaine, whose eyes were neither violet nor depths of tender
purity. The sweetest eyes in the world, all vowed them to be; and there
was no man or woman, gentle or simple, who was not rejoiced by their
smiling.

"In my book of pictures," said the little Marquess to his mother once,
"there is an angel. She looks as you do when you come in your white
robe to kiss me before you go down to dine with the ladies and
gentlemen who are our guests. Your little shining crown is made of
glittering stones, and hers is only gold. Angels wear only golden
crowns--but you are like her, mother, only more beautiful."

The child from his first years was used to the passing and repassing
across his horizon of brilliant figures and interesting ones. From the
big mullioned window of his nursery he could see the visitors come and
go, he watched the beaux and beauties saunter in the park and
pleasaunce in their brocades, laces, and plumed hats, he saw the
scarlet coats ride forth to hunt, and at times fine chariots roll up