'I am sorry for her. She is so pretty, too.'

'You waste your pity on such a woman, my love. I wonder what influence the Prince will have on political issues. I have heard that he is seen often in the company of men like Burke and Charles James Fox.'

'So it would appear,' said Maria, 'that he does not spend all his time with the actress. He must be interested in politics to have such men as his friends.'

'This could be so.'

'And do you think he will be on our side?'

Her husband smiled. 'The Prince will always take sides against his father. But the King gave his assent to our Bill nearly two years ago, so doubtless His Highness would not have given his if he had an opportunity of doing so, which fortunately he has not. He will have to wait until he is twenty-one before he can have an influence on politics ... and that is three years away.'

'Is he so young then?' said Maria.

'Very young. Six years younger than you, Maria.'

'Six years.' That was about the time she had married Edward Weld! She had seemed very young then. She was silent, thinking of the Prince who caused such distress to his father and who was very wild and gay and, so it was said, extremely charming and undeniably handsome.

Poor woman, she thought again, as a vision of the woman in the Mall rose before her, over-dressed, her hair heavily powdered, her face a mask of rouge and white lead.

The subject was distasteful so she changed it.

'How gratifying it is that that cruel law has been changed. I remember my parents talking about it long before I went to France. One of the most cruel aspects was that which enabled

the son of a Catholic turned Protestant to take over his father's possessions. Just imagine if Walter, John or Charles had done that. What a dreadful law!'

'All laws against minorities are monstrous. But we are fortunate in our king, Maria. He has always stood for tolerance and he is a good man. I know many people laugh at him ... call him "Farmer George" because he is fond of the land, and "The Button Maker" because he is interested in handcrafts. They call him dull because he is a faithful husband—but I think he is a good man.'

'But a good man is not necessarily a good king. What of the Colonies? I fancy King George has played an important part in that disastrous affair.'

'You have a point there, my dear,' Thomas admitted. 'But I was referring to his tolerance. He has protected Methodists and Quakers in the past—and I believe he has always been sympathetic towards us.'

A servant came in at that moment to announce that Sir Carnaby Haggerston had called.

Maria rose to greet her brother-in-law and drew back in dismay when she saw how agitated he was.

'Lord George Gordon is mustering the Protestant Association and I've heard that he is inciting them to rise up against the Catholics of London. My God, I pray we are not going to have riots here ... as they've been having in Scotland.'

'Impossible,' said Thomas. 'The Protestant Association is a worthy body. I'm sure of this.

'But,' said Haggerston, 'I hear that Gordon is a madman.'

Maria sat at an upper window in the house in Park Street. Terror had struck London and she knew that at any moment the mob might come running into this very street, stop at this very house, break down the doors and destroy or burn their possessions.

Thomas had urged her to leave London, but that she would not do. It was his duty, Thomas said, to stay here. The houses of his friends had been looted and some of their priests were in danger. He must do all he could to get them removed to places

of safety. He would not be true to his Faith if he ran away to the country to hide himself there. Besides, who knew when these riots would spread even into the country. But he deplored the fact that Maria was in the centre of the trouble.

Maria for once was in disagreement with her husband. Her mouth set into firm lines, for Maria could be very firm when she considered it necessary to be, and she said: 'If you stay in London, Thomas, I shall stay too. You may need my help.'

And Thomas found it impossible to persuade her.

The trouble had seemed to break out suddenly. At the heart of it was mad Lord George Gordon, an insignificant younger son of a noble house, good looking, a bon viveur, a Member of Parliament who could not get himself taken seriously.

That, Maria had said to Thomas, was at the root of the trouble. Lord George was determined to call attention to himself no matter if he laid waste half London to do so. He was a Protestant, and when he had been elected President of the Protestant Association of England he believed he had that chance. He announced his intention of bringing about the repeal of the Catholic Act, that Act which had given the rights to Catholic subjects of England which had so long been denied them. He had spoken in Parliament where his diatribes had not been given serious attention; he had had an audience with the King which had brought no success.

To a man such as Gordon, obsessed by the need to call attention to himself, these rebuffs only strengthened his resolution. The Parliament and King rejected him; very well there was the mob.

The nightmare days followed. Members of the Protestant Association collected in St. George's Fields; they marched round the fields singing hymns and holding banners aloft; but it was not the orderly members of the Association who would be of use to Lord George; it was the mob he collected on his march to the Houses of Parliament. Beggars, criminals, prostitutes, all looking for sport and chiefly gain, joined the throng which had grown to over twenty thousand.

'No Popery!' they shouted. They flung mud at the carriages of Members of Parliament; they waited outside the House while Gordon entered it; but they were not interested in talk;

they wanted action. Many did not know what the point at issue was but they screamed the parrot cry of 'No Popery'; and the pillage began.

Maria shivered; looking out she could see the red glow in the sky. They were burning Catholic chapels and the houses of well-known Catholics. The Fitzherberts were not unknown. When would their turn come?

A carriage drew up at the door and Frances stepped out and hurried into the house. Maria ran down to greet her.

Trances I To come through the streets!'

'But Maria, Carnaby is out ... I know not where ... and I could not stay in the house alone. I had to be with you. So I took a chance. Oh, Maria, it was terrible. I saw houses ablaze ... the houses of our friends ... What will happen next?'

'How can we know? Sit down and have a glass of wine.'

The servant brought it. Was she watching them furtively? The girl was a good Catholic—she would not have been employed in the household if she were not—but what were the servants thinking? It was the rich Catholics who were the targets for the mob.

Frances drank the wine and looked at her sister, asking for comfort.

'It cannot go on,' said Maria.

'Why not!' demanded Frances. 'They could burn the whole of London. They have attacked the house of a magistrate who attempted to warn them that they were breaking the law. On my way here I saw seven big fires. Oh, Maria, Maria what next?'

'They will have to stop it. They will have to call out the Army.'

'Then why do they not? What do they let this go on for? The mob has freed the prisoners from Newgate; they have set the prison on fire. Felons are walking the streets. What will become of us.'

'That's something we never know from day to day—Gordon riots or not. It is no use agitating yourself, Frances. It does no good. At any moment we may be called upon to play our part and we have to be ready for that.'

'Where is Thomas?'

'He is out ... helping our friends. He is trying to get some of the priests out of London. It is their only hope.'