"
No, we cannot love enough to displease the God of love, who is not,
whatever men may preach, a "jealous God," in that small way; but perhaps
we may grieve too much to please the Master of Life, of which, in His
eyes, what we call death, is the immortal blossom and crowning.
It seems to me that in her loving tribute to the Prince, the Queen was a
little unjust to her mother, to whose precepts and example she owed very
high "ideas of purity" and that strong sense of duty, and that fortitude,
essentially a womanly, not a manly, virtue, which preserved her through
the temptations of a glad and splendid youth--through the trials and
sorrows of maturer years, and which, when that time of bitterest trial
came, braced up her shattered forces, and held together her broken heart.
Balmoral--the dear mountain-home, so entirely her husband's creation--now
became more than ever dear to the Queen, and has never lost its charm for
her. Her life there has been, from the first, almost pastoral in its
simplicity.
The Highlanders about them, a primitive, but very proud people, regarded
their Sovereign and her husband with no servile awe. With them, even
respect begins, like charity, at home; what there is left, they give
loyally to their superiors in rank.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293