But its glory was departed, its day was done, it was a place of dreams and memories: the Queen came here no more.

Many years had withered since she had entered this charmed spot; and that it remained so fine was but evidence of the care of those to whom she had given strict orders seven years past, that in and out of season it must be ever kept as it had erstwhile been.

She had never entered the place since the day the young Marquis of Wessex, whom she had imprisoned for marrying secretly and without her consent, on his release came here, and, with a concentrated bitterness and hate, had told her such truths as she never had heard from man or woman since she was born.

He had impeached her in such cold and murderous terms as must have made wince even a woman with no pride.

To Elizabeth it was gall and wormwood.