much was written in the newspapers and magazines of that period. She
had previously when a girl of sixteen married a Lovell who died and
left a child. Fenella's portrait in the character of the Sibyl of
Snowdon was painted by the great portrait painter of that time.

This picture still hangs in the portrait gallery of Raxton Hall.

As a child it had an immense attraction for me, and no wonder, for it
was original to actual eccentricity. It depicted a dark young woman
of dazzling beauty standing at break of day among mountain scenery,
holding a musical instrument of the guitar kind, but shaped like a
violin, upon the lower strings of which she was playing with the
thumb of the left hand.

Through the misty air were seen all kinds of shadowy shapes, whose
eyes were fixed on the player. I used to stand and look at this
picture by the hour together, fascinated by the strange beauty of the
singer's face and the mysterious, prophetic expression in the eyes.

And I used to try to imagine what tune it was that could call from
the mountain air the 'flower sprites' and 'sunshine elves' of morning
on the mountain.

Fenella Stanley seems in her later life to have set up as a positive
seeress, and I infer from certain family papers and diaries in my
possession that she was the very embodiment of the wildest Romany
beliefs and superstitions.

I first became conscious of the mysterious links which, bound me to
my Gypsy ancestress by reading one of her letters to my