RECOLLECTIONS 

 OF GEORGE JOHN CAYLEY 



BY 



LADY RITCHIE 



AND 



MRS. COBDEN SICKERT 



The first time I remember him was mounting a great 

 stone staircase in an old palace at Naples. My father had 

 been calling on Mrs. Craven — Pauline de la Ferronays — 

 the friend of so many friends. We left her sitting by the 

 wood fire burning in the great chimney-piece. She was 

 dressed in white, a pale woman with smooth dark hair, 

 looking thoughtfully into the smouldering flame. The 

 room beyond was in twilight ; it was rather solemn, 

 with thick walls and carved ceilings and sad-coloured 

 curtains, just lighted by the flicker from the burning logs. 

 A servant met us in the anteroom to let us out, and the 

 door had not closed when we saw George Cayley coming 

 up the staircase — a rapid, fanciful figure wrapped in a 

 cloak. He suddenly drew out a sword as he met us 

 and stopped to speak to my father. 



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