mysterious eyes quick with the consciousness of coming motherhood,
answer another's voice and hand; while I lie here, not in the
lonely companionship of my expectations, but where the shadow is
bright with kindly faces and gentle hands, until one kinder and
gentler still carries me down the stairway into the larger room.

But now the veil was held aside and one went by crowned with the
majesty of years, wearing the ermine of an unstained rule, the
purple of her people's loyalty. Nations stood with bated breath to
see her pass in the starlit mist of her children's tears; a
monarch--greatest of her time; an empress--conquered men called
mother; a woman--Englishmen cried queen; still the crowned captive
of her people's heart--the prisoner of love.

The night-goers passed under my window in silence, neither song nor
shout broke the welcome dark; next morning the workmen who went by
were strangely quiet.


'VICTORIA DEI GRATIA BRITANNIARUM REGINA.'


Did they think of how that legend would disappear, and of all it
meant, as they paid their pennies at the coffee-stall? The feet
rarely know the true value and work of the head; but all Englishmen
have been and will be quick to acknowledge and revere Victoria by
the grace of God a wise woman, a great and loving mother.

Years ago, I, standing at a level crossing, saw her pass. The
train slowed down and she caught sight of the gatekeeper's little