round a young and maiden Queen to guard her Court jealously from the
faintest suspicion of such a reproach. The fault lay with those who uttered
the shameful charge on slight and, as it proved, totally mistaken
inferences.

When the accusation reached the ears of Lady Flora--last of all, no
doubt--the brave daughter of a brave man welcomed such a medical
examination as must prove her innocence beyond dispute. Her name and fame
were triumphantly cleared, but the distress and humiliation she had
suffered accelerated the progress of her malady, and she died shortly
afterwards, passionately lamented by her friends. They sought fruitlessly
to bring punishment on the accusers, which could not be done since there
was no evidence of deliberate insincerity and malice on the part of the
circulators of the scandal. The blame of the disastrous gossip fell on two
of the Whig Ladies of the Bed-chamber; and just before the sad climax, the
other event, which angry Tory eyes magnified to the dignity of a
conspiracy, drew double attention to both catastrophes.

In May, 1839, the Whig Government had been defeated in a crucial measure,
and the ministry under the leadership of Lord Melbourne resigned office.
The Queen sent for the Duke of Wellington, and he recommended that Sir
Robert Peel should be called upon to form a new Cabinet. It was the first
time that the Queen had experienced a change of Ministers, and she was
naturally dismayed at the necessity, and reluctant to part with the friend
who had lent her such aid on her accession, whom she trusted implicitly,
who in the requirements of his office had been in daily communication with
her for the last two years. In her interview with Sir Robert Peel, who in
his shyness and constraint appeared to have far fewer personal
recommendations for a young Queen's counsellor, she told him with a simple
and girlish frankness that she was sorry to have to part with her late