What in all this story seems to me most beautiful and touching, because
so exquisitely womanly, is the meekness of the young Queen. Though as
Queen she offered the Prince her coveted hand--that hand that had held
the sceptre of sceptres, and which Princes and Peers and the
representatives of the highest powers on earth, had kissed in homage, it
was only as a poor little woman's weak hand, which needed to be upheld
and guided in good works, by a stronger, firmer hand; and her head, when
she laid it on her chosen husband's shoulder, had not the feel of the
crown on it. Indeed, she seems to have felt that his love was her real
coronation, his faith her consecration.

To the beloved Stockmar, to whom but a little while before she had
communicated her unalterable determination not to marry any one for ever
so long the newly betrothed wrote: "I do feel so guilty I know not how to
begin my letter; but I think the news it will contain will be sufficient
to ensure your forgiveness. Albert has completely won my heart, and all
was settled between us this morning. I feel certain he will make me
happy. I wish I could feel as certain of my making him happy, but I will
do my best."

Among the entries in the Queen's journal are many like this: "How I will
strive to make Albert feel as little as possible the great sacrifice he
has made. I told him it _was_ a great sacrifice on his part, but he
would not allow it."

Of course the Prince had too much manly feeling and practical good sense
to "allow it." He knew he was the most envied, not only of all poor
German Princes about that time, but of all young scions of royalty the
world over; and besides, he loved his cousin. There is no record or