"
The further description given by the Queen of this first great sorrow of
her life, is exceedingly pathetic and vivid. It is the very poetry of
grief. I cannot reproduce it entire, nor give that later story of
incalculable loss as related by her in that diary, through which her very
heart beats. It is all too unutterably sad. There are passages in this
account most exquisitely natural and touching. When all was over, the
poor daughter tried to comfort herself with thoughts of the blessed rest
of the good mother, of the gentle spirit released from the pain-racked
body, but the heart would cry out: "But I--I, wretched child, who had
lost the mother I so tenderly loved, from whom for these forty-one years
I had never been parted, except for a few weeks, what was my case? My
childhood, everything seemed to crowd upon me at once... What I had
dreaded and fought--off the idea of, for years, had come, and must be
borne... Oh, if I could nave been with her these last weeks! How I grudge
every hour I did not spend with her! ... What a blessing we went on
Tuesday. The remembrance of her parting blessing, of her dear, sweet
smile, will ever remain engraven on my memory."
During all this time, the Queen received the most tender sympathy and
care from her children, and Prince Albert, was--_Prince Albert_;--
weeping with her, yet striving to comfort her, full of loving kindness
and consideration.
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