Alfred Austin--not then Poet Laureate--was a great friend and constant visitor of ours at that time. He had been at school--at Oscott--with Willie, and he was, I remember, extremely sensitive to criticism. "Owen Meredith," Lord Lytton, was also a frequent visitor, especially when my sister Anna was with us--she being sympathetic to his genius. I think Willie and I were beginning to jar upon one another a good deal now, and I loved to get away for long walks by myself through the parks of London. Kensington Gardens was a great solace to me in all seasons and weathers, and I spent much of my time there. I often turned into the Brompton Oratory on my way home for a few minutes' peace and rest of body and soul, and these quiet times were a comfort to me when suffering from the fret and worry of my domestic life. I first made my way to the Oratory when my daughter Norah was baptized, and some little time afterwards one {38} of the Fathers called on me. Finally Father ---- undertook to call regularly to instruct me in the Catholic religion. He and the other priests lent me any books I wanted, and "The Threshold of the Catholic Faith," and one other I have now. That I never got beyond the "Threshold" was no fault of these good Fathers, who taught me with endless patience and uncompromising directness. But I had before me two types of Catholic in Willie and his mother and sister, and both were to me stumbling-blocks. The former was, as I knew, what they call a "careless Catholic," and I thought that if he who had been born in that faith that means so much made so little of it, perhaps it was more of a beautiful dream than a reality of life. Yet when I turned and considered those "good Catholics," his mother and sister, I found such a fierce bigotry and deadly dullness of outlook, such an immense piety and so small a charity, that my whole being revolted against such a belittling of God-given life. Now, I know that Mary and the Comtesse disliked me personally, and also that my temperament was antagonistic to theirs, as indeed to Willie's, though the affection he and I had for one another eased the friction between us; but youth judges so much by results, and my excursion into the Catholic religion ended in abrupt revolt against all forms and creeds. This feeling was intensified when my second little girl, Carmen, was born and christened at the Oratory. I would not go in, but stood waiting in the porch, where I had so often marked tired men and women passing in to pray after their hard and joyless day of toil, and I felt that my children were taken from me, and that I was very lonely.