To such a child cradled in a palace and hedged round by ceremonial, Sarah Jennings, with the superabundant health and vitality of a country-bred girl, was an ideal playmate; and before many days had passed the timid, clinging Princess was the very slave of the vivacious, romping, strong-willed daughter of the squire.  Thus was begun that union between the strong and the weak, which in later years was to make Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, virtual Queen of England, while her childish playfellow, Anne, wore the crown.

It was under such conditions that Sarah Jennings blossomed rapidly into young womanhood—­little less lovely than her ravishing sister, but infinitely more dowered with strength of mind and character—­an imperious young lady, with the cleverest brain and tongue, and the most inflexible will within the circle of the Court.

While Sarah was playing with her Royal charge in the Palace nursery, John Churchill, son of a West Country knight, whose life was to be so closely linked with hers, had already climbed several rungs of the ladder at the summit of which he was to find a Duke’s coronet.  He had made his first appearance at Court while she was still in the cradle at Sandridge; and although, no doubt, she had caught many a glimpse of the handsome young courtier and favourite of the King, in her eyes he moved in a world apart, as far removed by his splendid environment as by his ten years’ superiority in age.

John Churchill was, at least, no better born than herself.  He was son of one Winston Churchill, of a stock of West Country gentry, who had flung aside his cap and gown at Oxford to wield a sword for King Charles; and who, when Cromwell took the fallen reins of government into his own hands, was made to pay a heavy price for his loyalty by the forfeiture of his lands and a fine of L4,000.  When Charles I.’s son came to his own, Winston’s star shone again; his acres were restored, he was dubbed a knight, and was rewarded with well-paid offices under the Crown.  Moreover, a place at Court, as page-boy, was found for his young son John; and another, as maid-of-honour to the Duchess of York, for his daughter Arabella.

From the day young Churchill entered the service of James, Duke of York, Fortune smiled her sweetest on him.  The Duke was captivated by the boy’s handsome face, his intelligence and charming manners, and took him at once into favour.  By the time he was sixteen he was a full-blown officer of the Guards, and the idol of the Court.  His good looks, his graces of person, and powers of fascinating wrought sad havoc in the breast of many a Court-lady; and, boy though he was, there were few favours which might not have been his without the asking.