married life on 20 pounds and the forlorn hope of their Sovereign's
promise of eventual compensation. When her husband went to Bristol
with the Prince of Wales, we see the young wife left at Oxford, in
delicate health, with scarcely a penny and a dying first-born. She
relates how she was sitting in the garden of St. John's College
breathing the air for the first time after her illness, when a letter
came from Bristol, to her "unspeakable joy" containing fifty gold
pieces and a summons to join Mr. Fanshawe, and how there was a sound
of drums beating in the roadway under the garden wall, and she went up
to the Mount to see Sir Charles Lee's company of soldiers march past,
and as she stood leaning against a tree a volley of shot was fired to
salute her, and she narrowly escaped being hit by a brace of bullets
which struck the tree two inches above her head.

Thus began the long series of separations, reunions, hardships, and
extraordinary adventures which this brave, fair Royalist passed
through. Like Queen Henrietta Maria, she seems hardly ever to have
gone to sea without being nearly "cast away." From Red Abbey in
Ireland she and her babies and servants had to fly at the peril of
their lives through "an unruly tumult with swords in their hands." On
the Isles of Scilly she was put ashore more dead than alive, and
plundered of all her possessions by the sailors. At Portsmouth she and
her husband were fired upon by Dutch men-of-war, and another time they
were shipwrecked in the Bay of Biscay. Yet her buoyant temperament was
never crushed. She might have said with Shakespeare's Beatrice, "A
star danced when I was born," so infinite was her capacity for keeping
on the "windy side of care."

It was the old "hoyting girl" spirit still alive in her which prompted
her to borrow the cabin boy's blue thrum-cap and tarred coat for half