It was in the same year that my father was killed by a fall from his horse while helping to rescue some poor creatures from a sudden inundation. It became needful for Sir Julius to go abroad and leave his affairs in the hands of certain family connections less loyal or more prudent than himself. Nothing would serve but he must take his daughter with him, and as my mother had lost her only ties to life in England, she was easily persuaded to go along. Sir Julius lived for a year or two in the neighborhood of Toulon on a small estate owned by the Marquis de Crequi, who was some sort of a relation. Then my mother died, and Sir Julius placed us two little children in the Abbey of St. Jean de Crequi, which was at that time in a somewhat more prosperous condition than I remember it afterward. Sir Julius entered some foreign service for a while, and then his peace was made at home and he returned to England, where he married a very rich wife and had two or three children. But he allowed his daughter and myself, her foster-sister, to remain at the convent till we were all but grown up, remitting with more or less regularity money to pay for our board and education. Why he did so I don't pretend to know unless as I think probable he was as much afraid of his second wife as he was afterward of his third. Of course, I remember nothing of all this nor did I learn much of it till after our return to England. As I said, my first distinct recollection is of tumbling into the fountain well and being fished out by mother Prudentia. But I used to have dim and fleeting visions of a very different home—of an old timbered house and a great apple orchard loaded with fruit, and a tall, bluff man holding me up to gather a golden mellow apple with my own hands. As to our journey and the events of our short residence in France, my mind is all a blank. I seem to myself to have waked up in the old abbey at a time when I was old enough to climb up the great stairway on my hands and knees and sometimes to be carried in arms, though I think that privilege oftener belonged to Amabel who was rather a delicate child, while I was as strong as a little donkey. We were very happy together, Amabel and I. No difference was made between us in any respect that I remember. We learned the same things, dressed in the same way, and slept in the same kind of little white covered beds in our own corner of the dormitory. There were three or four other pupils, but they were all but one, very much older than ourselves—quite young ladies in fact.