."

On one other matter she was insistent. Since the affair of Lady Flora
Hastings, a sad fate had overtaken Sir James Clark. His flourishing
practice had quite collapsed; nobody would go to him any more. But the
Queen remained faithful. She would show the world how little she cared
for their disapproval, and she desired Albert to make "poor Clark" his
physician in ordinary. He did as he was told; but, as it turned out, the
appointment was not a happy one.

The wedding-day was fixed, and it was time for Albert to tear himself
away from his family and the scenes of his childhood. With an aching
heart, he had revisited his beloved haunts--the woods and the valleys
where he had spent so many happy hours shooting rabbits and collecting
botanical specimens; in deep depression, he had sat through the farewell
banquets in the Palace and listened to the Freischutz performed by
the State band. It was time to go. The streets were packed as he drove
through them; for a short space his eyes were gladdened by a sea of
friendly German faces, and his ears by a gathering volume of good
guttural sounds. He stopped to bid a last adieu to his grandmother.
It was a heartrending moment. "Albert! Albert!" she shrieked, and fell
fainting into the arms of her attendants as his carriage drove away. He
was whirled rapidly to his destiny. At Calais a steamboat awaited him,
and, together with his father and his brother, he stepped, dejected, on
board. A little later, he was more dejected still. The crossing was a
very rough one; the Duke went hurriedly below; while the two Princes,
we are told, lay on either side of the cabin staircase "in an almost
helpless state." At Dover a large crowd was collected on the pier, and
"it was by no common effort that Prince Albert, who had continued to
suffer up to the last moment, got up to bow to the people." His sense
of duty triumphed. It was a curious omen: his whole life in England was
foreshadowed as he landed on English ground.

Meanwhile Victoria, in growing agitation, was a prey to temper and to
nerves. She grew feverish, and at last Sir James Clark pronounced
that she was going to have the measles. But, once again, Sir James's
diagnosis was incorrect. It was not the measles that were attacking
her, but a very different malady; she was suddenly prostrated by alarm,
regret, and doubt. For two years she had been her own mistress--the two
happiest years, by far, of her life. And now it was all to end! Sh