Lulworth! What a delightful spot. And Mr. Weld seemed a different man in his own home. She wanted to hear all about the castle; she wanted to explore it. Would she allow Mr. Weld to take her on a tour of inspection? She did not wish to encroach on his time because she was sure he had serious business which did not include wasting his time on a girl like herself. But no, Mr. Weld would be delighted; he was gratified that she should be so interested in his home and he would allow no one to show it to her but himself.

'It is not old ... as castles go/ he told her. 'My family bought it little more than a hundred years ago, in 1641, for although the foundations were laid about the time the Armada was defeated, the castle wasn't completed until some forty years later.'

'It must be most exciting to live in a castle.'

'I find it so. Do you think you would?'

'I'm sure I should.'

'Well, who knows, perhaps you will.'

She laughed lightheartedly. 'I hardly think so. I shall have to be content with our house which is very pleasant but by no means a castle.'

'But perhaps you won't live there always. Perhaps you will marry and er ...'

'Who can say? Have you a chapel in the castle?'

'Yes. Would you like to see it?'

'Very much. At home we have to worship in the priest's house. Papa has made a chapel there. It must be wonderful to have your own chapel.'

He laid his hand on her arm and she showed no objection. She thinks of me as an uncle, he thought despairingly. And how lovely she was! How young! How full of health and vigour.

On the way to the chapel he pointed out the round towers at each corner of the building, battlemented and made of Chel-mark Stone. She was deeply interested in everything and delighted when he pointed out how the chapel had been built in four sections to make a cross.

She thought the views from the park were delightful, looking across the Dorset coast as they did, and she suggested climbing to the top of one of the towers for a better view.

She led the way up the narrow stone spiral staircase. The way was steep; it was years since he had been up there; he followed her, trying to keep up, trying to hide his breathless-ness, and when he finally stood beside her at the top of the tower she turned to him in alarm and cried: 'Mr. Weld, are you feeling ill?'

'No, no ...' he gasped.

'But you are. Oh dear, how careless of me! I ran up those stairs. Pray sit down. Yes, you must, Mr. Weld.' She insisted he be seated on a stone ledge and she knelt beside him, looking

up at him anxiously. He thought how beautiful she was in her concern and he loved her more than ever, but hopelessly, he thought. He had meant to impress her by his castle and all he had succeeded in doing was showing her that he was an old man.

'I am all right.' He made to stand up.

But she would not hear it. She was charmingly authoritative. 'Oh no, Mr. Weld. I insist.'

'You insist.'

She blushed. 'I am sorry. But I really am a little anxious/

'I find it delightful that you should care for a poor old man.'

'But of course I care. And you are not an old man. I have been stupid. I ran up those stairs. Mamma says I am sometimes thoughtless and I'm afraid I am.'

'I... I find you charming. I would not change you.'

'Careless or not?' Her laughter rang out.

'And what are you thinking of me?'

'Thar it was very kind of you to allow me to come here with Uncle Henry and to show me your beautiful castle and ...' She had paused to look at him. Then she added severely: 'But I can see I shall have to make you more careful in future. There 1 I've been impertinent again.'

'Please go on ... being impertinent.'

'Do you know, Mr. Weld, you are not in the least like an uncle. Do you feel rested now? Shall we go down?'

He rose and said: 'One moment. Let us look over the parapet so that you can see the countryside.'

She stood with him so close that a strand of her long hair blew across his face.

Ask her now? Say: 'AH this is mine. Share it with me.' If she were mercenary ... but she was not. She was just sweet, innocent and infinitely desirable.

'Maria,' he began.

She turned to him, her eyes shining with pleasure in the beautiful landscape.

'Yes, Mr. Weld?' she prompted.

'You like ... all this?'

'Certainly. Who could help it?'

'You would like to live here?' 'I think it's the most delightful spot.' 'Then ...'

She looked at him expectantly.

'No/ he said. 'I am too old ... and you are too young.' Then she understood.

She was bewildered. She wanted to get to her room and think.

There was a letter from Mamma. Mr. Weld had offered marriage. Mamma and Papa had thought a great deal about this offer. Uncle Henry could vouch for Mr. Weld who was a good man and belonged to one of the foremost Catholic families in England. He was devoted to Maria; he did not ask for a dowry which, Maria would realize, was a great consideration, poor Papa's affairs being what they were. Mr. Weld had already proved himself a good husband to a lady of high rank. It was flattering that he should wish their dearest Maria to take her place, so Maria should think very seriously about this. It was not that they would force her to marry where she did not wish; they would not even urge her to do so; but what they would do was ask her to think very carefully of her position. She was not rich; she had little to offer but her beauty; there were the boys and Frances to consider. And while Mamma and Papa would not for one moment suggest that she accept Mr. Weld's offer if she did not wish to, they would be very happy if she decided to be wise and do so.

Maria read that letter over and over again.

Mr. Weld was so kind, so good, so very anxious to show her that he would understand perfectly if she refused his offer. Uncle Henry obviously wanted her to make his old friend happy; and she wanted to please everyone.

She took a delight in seeing that Mr. Weld did not exert himself. This pleased and yet disturbed him. He enjoyed her attentions, but at the same time was aware that they stressed his age.

And one summer's day when Mr. Weld seemed to find the heat too much for him and she exerted her charming tyranny

and insisted that he sit in the shade with her instead of going to ride, she thought he seemed a little sad and she mentioned this.

He said: 'There is only one thing that makes me sad, Maria. It is because I am not twenty years younger.'

'Why should that make you sad? The young are often very foolish.'

'It makes me sad because I am not your age. Then I could ask you to marry me and if you said yes I should no longer have any reason to be sad.'

'You might ask me to marry you,' she told him severely, 'which is something you have not done yet, although you have spoken to my uncle and my parents on this matter. Perhaps if you were to ask me ...'

A look of great joy came into his face.

'Maria,' he said, 'will you marry me?'

'But certainly I will,' answered Maria; and she laughed with pleasure to see his joy.

Edward Weld was delighted with his marriage; as soon as Maria had agreed he had hurried on the ceremony and Walter and Mary Smythc congratulated themselves that their eldest child had done very well. With little effort and no expense they had arranged for her an advantageous union, for at eighteen years old she was comfortably settled; her home was a castle; her husband was rich and indulgent and most important of all a Catholic.

As for Maria, she was very happy. It was gratifying to know that she could make her husband so happy; he delighted in showing her off to his friends and there were frequent house-parties at Lulworth Castle. Maria quickly learned to become a good hostess; the poise she had acquired in France was an additional asset and she could converse with the grace and ease of a much older person; and as she matured a little she grew even more beautiful.