This old gentlewoman was Mistress Rebecca Halsell,
the whilom chieftainess of the nursery department, and having failed in
health as age drew near her, she had been generously installed a quiet
pensioner in her old domain. When the Marquess of Roxholm had returned
from his first campaign he had found her living in these apartments--a
woman nearing seventy, somewhat bent with rheumatism, and white-haired,
but with the grave, clear eyes he remembered, still undimmed.
"I hope to be here still, my lord Marquess," she had said, "when you
bring your lady home to us--even perhaps when the nurseries are thrown
open again. I have been a happy woman in these rooms since the first
hour I entered them and took your lordship from Nurse Alison's arms."
She had led a happy life, being surrounded by every comfort, all the
servants being her friends, and she spending her days with books and
simple work, sitting chiefly at the large window from whence she could
see the park, and the avenue where the company came and went, and on
days when there was naught else stirring, watch the rookery with its
colony of rooks flying to and fro quarrelling or sitting in judgment on
affairs of state, settling their big nests, and marrying and giving in
marriage.
When his Grace was at the tower he paid her often a friendly visit, and
entertained her bravely with stories of camp and Court until, indeed,
she had become a wondrous stateswoman, and knew quite well the merits
of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, and had her own views of the changing
favourites and their bitter struggles to attain their ends.
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