andwiches, and bottles of wine; she perceived Lehzen in an
upper box and exchanged a smile with her as she sat, robed and crowned,
on the Confessor's throne. "I shall ever remember this day as the
PROUDEST of my life," she noted. But the pride was soon merged once more
in youth and simplicity. When she returned to Buckingham Palace at
last she was not tired; she ran up to her private rooms, doffed her
splendours, and gave her dog Dash its evening bath.

Life flowed on again with its accustomed smoothness--though, of course,
the smoothness was occasionally disturbed. For one thing, there was the
distressing behaviour of Uncle Leopold. The King of the Belgians had
not been able to resist attempting to make use of his family position
to further his diplomatic ends. But, indeed, why should there be any
question of resisting? Was not such a course of conduct, far from being
a temptation, simply "selon les regles?" What were royal marriages
for, if they did not enable sovereigns, in spite of the hindrances of
constitutions, to control foreign politics? For the highest purposes,
of course; that was understood. The Queen of England was his niece--more
than that--almost his daughter; his confidential agent was living, in
a position of intimate favour, at her court. Surely, in such
circumstances, it would be preposterous, it would be positively
incorrect, to lose the opportunity of bending to his wishes by means
of personal influence, behind the backs of the English Ministers, the
foreign policy of England.

He set about the task with becoming precautions. He continued in his
letters his admirable advice. Within a few days of her accession, he
recommended the young Queen to lay emphasis, on every possible occasion,
upon her English birth; to praise the English nation; "the Established
Church I also recommend strongly; you cannot, without PLEDGING yourself
to anything PARTICULAR, SAY TOO MUCH ON THE SUBJECT." And then "before
you decide on anything important I should be glad if you would consult
me; this would also have the advantage of giving you time;" nothing was
more injurious than to be hurried into wrong decisions unawares. His
niece replied at once with all the accustomed warmth of her affection;
but she wrote hurriedly--and, perhaps, a trifle vaguely too. "YOUR
advice is always of the GREATEST IMPORTANCE to me," she said.

Had he, possibly, gone too far? He could not be certain; perhaps
Victoria HAD been hurried. In any