spread the news of his acquiring this fort, of his devotion to it, and of the care he lavished upon it...

The whispers touched on other things in his private life as well; some said the Prince might in the end settle down in his favorite corner with a bride of his own choosing — perhaps in secret... He spoke of his love for the fort as though it were a piece of his very being, saying that he had never stopped thinking of its restoration, all the time, even during his visit to South America...

I listened to his talk with eager-ness and delight, and when we reached our door the Prince helped me down from his car. I asked him in my turn whether he would stay with us a while and take some refreshment before continuing his journey... But he begged off, in view of the work awaiting him; he expressed, however, his wish to visit our house if we should one day invite him, and added: perhaps such a visit would give him a new idea for restoring the fort.

Such was the beginning of five years of anxiety and perplexity; and as his car vanished from our sight, I was praying inwardly that he might forget this promise... God answered my prayer, for summer and autumn passed, and then winter came, before I saw his face again.

In the middle of January 1932 a card reached us from the Prince of Wales, inviting us to spend the weekend at Fort "Belvedere"... Ernest's pleasure was no less than

my delight at this invitation, and my maid "Mary Burke" nearly flew for joy when I told her that she would be coming with us too... And I learned that this invitation had come at the suggestion of Thelma, who would also be there with "Benny."

Twenty-four years have passed since that visit, and as I sit down now to set my memories on paper, I feel a lump in my throat, for I count this place — the fort — an enchanted spot. There the first threads of our story were woven, simply, quietly; and from there I

left England, five years later, and left my past, my future, and my present, as it seemed to me then... all of it on a dark and stormy evening, pierced through with the voice of despair and pain.

I do not like to claim that the fort was mine, as some women are fond of doing; it belonged to "David." It was everything to him, and nothing was dearer to his heart than it, save his honor... and his love for me... But that does

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