His knightly qualities, his wisdom, the good he had done his country, all were treasured up by her and rejoiced in with never-failing delight.

His reputation, his popularity, were dear to her, even as her noble husband's.

She had not only loved, she had reverenced him as some superior being who had come but to do good, to leave behind him through succeeding ages an untarnished name, enshrined in such love, England would be long ere she spoke it without tears.

And now, alas! she had outlived such dreams; her reverence, lingering still, had been impaired by deeds of blood her pride in him crushed; naught but a daughter's love remaining, which did but more strongly impress upon her heart the fatal change.

And now the last blow was given; he shunned her, scarcely ever summoned her to his presence, permitted the wife of a day to tend him in his sufferings, rather than the daughter of his former love, one hallowed by the memories of her mother, the beloved and faithful partner of his youth.
It was not, however, these thoughts which entirely engrossed her now not undivided sorrows.