When we were quite well and tolerably free from pock-marks, my father
took us to London with him, and there Eustace was sent to school at
Westminster; while I, with little Berry, had a tutor to teach us
Latin and French, and my mother's waiting-maid instructed me in
sewing and embroidery. As I grew older I had masters in dancing and
the spinnet, and my mother herself was most careful of my deportment.
Likewise she taught me such practices of our religion as I had not
learnt from my grandmother, and then it was I found that I was to be
brought up differently from Eustace and the others. I cried at
first, and declared I would do like Eustace and my father. I did not
think much about it; I was too childish and thoughtless to be really
devout; and when my mother took me in secret to the queen's little
chapel, full of charming objects of devotion, while the others had to
sit still during sermons two hours long, I began to think that I was
the best off.
Since that time I have thought much more, and talked the subject over
both with my dear eldest brother and with good priests, both English
and French, and I have come to the conclusion, as you know, my
children, that the English doctrine is no heresy, and that the Church
is a true Church and Catholic, though, as my home and my duties lie
here, I remain where I was brought up by my mother, in the communion
of my husband and children. I know that this would seem almost
heresy to our good Pere Chavand, but I wish to leave my sentiments on
record for you, my children.
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