All this however refers to later years. I have now reached to the period when I may introduce myself on the scene. Before doing so, however, I am tempted to print here a letter which my much valued friend, Miss Felicia Skene, of Oxford, has written to me on learning that I am preparing this autobiography. She is one of the very few now living who can remember my mother, and I gratefully quote what she has written of her as corroborating my own memories, else, perhaps, discounted by the reader as coloured by a daughter’s partiality.
April 4th, 1894.
My dearest Frances,—
I know well that in recalling the days of your bright youth in your grand old home, the most prominent figure amongst those who surrounded you then, must be that of your justly idolised mother, and I cannot help wishing to add my testimony, as of one unbiassed by family ties, to all that you possessed in her while she remained with you; and all that you so sadly lost when she was taken from you. To remember the châtelaine of Newbridge is to recall one of the fairest and sweetest memories of my early life. When I first saw that lovely, gracious lady with her almost angelic countenance and her perfect dignity of manner, I had just come from a gay Eastern capital,—my home from childhood, where no such vision of a typical English gentlewoman had ever appeared before me; and the impression she made upon me was therefore almost a revelation of what a refined, high-bred lady could be in all that was pure and lovely and of good report, and yet I think I only shared in the fascination which she exercised on all who came within the sphere of her influence. To me, almost a stranger, whom she welcomed as your friend under her roof, her exquisite courtesy would alone have been most charming, but for your sake she showed me all the tenderness of her sweet sympathetic nature, and it was no marvel to me that she was the idol of her children and the object of deepest respect and admiration to all who knew her.
Beautiful Newbridge with its splendid hospitality is like a dream to me now, of what a gentleman’s estate and country home could be in those days when ancient race and noble family traditions were still of some account.
Ever affectionately yours,
F. M. F. Skene.
13, New Inn Hall Street, Oxford.
CHAPTER
II.
CHILDHOOD.
