It finally fell amid a scene of awful conflagration and
explosions--the work of the desperate Russians themselves.
The peace-rejoicings did not come till later, but in the new house at
Balmoral there was a new joy, though one not quite unmixed with sadness,
in the love and happy betrothal of the Princess Victoria. In her journal
the Queen tells the old, old story very quietly: "Our dear Victoria was
this day engaged to Prince Frederick William of Prussia. He had already
spoken to us of his wishes, but were uncertain, on account of her extreme
youth, whether he should speak to her or wait till he should come back
again. However, we felt it was better he should do so, and, during our
ride up Craig-na-Ban this afternoon; he picked a piece of white heather
(the emblem of good luck), which he gave to her." This it seems broke the
ice, and so the poetic Prince (all German Princes, except perhaps
Bismarck, are poetic and romantic) told his love and offered his hand,
which was not rejected. Then came a few weeks of courtship, doubtless as
bright and sweet to the royal pair of lovers as was a similar season to
Robert Burns and "Highland Mary"--for love levels up and levels down--
and then young Fritz returned to Germany, leaving behind him a fond heart
and a tearful little face round and fair.
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