cture. 'No one is a better judge than I am, sir,' and he turned away."

"The prince was looking exceedingly pale; but he received me with calm
firmness, and that low, subdued voice that you know to be the _effort_ at
composure. He spoke at once about the picture and of its value to him more
than to all the world besides. From the beginning to the close of the
interview, he was greatly affected. He checked his first burst of
affection, by adverting to the public loss, and that of the royal family.
'Two generations gone!--gone in a moment! I have felt for myself, but I
have felt for the Prince Regent. My Charlotte is gone from this country--it
has lost her. She was a good, she was an admirable woman. None could know
my Charlotte as I did know her! It was my happiness, my duty to know her
character, but it was my delight.' During a short pause I spoke of the
impression it had made on me. 'Yes, she had a clear, fine understanding,
and very quick--she was candid, she was open, and not suspecting, but she
saw characters at the glance--she read them so true. You saw her; you saw
something of us--you saw us for some _days_--you saw our _year!_ Oh! what
happiness--and it was solid--it could not change, for we knew each
other--except when I went out to shoot, we were together always, and we
_could_ be together--we did not tire.'"

"I tried to check this current of recollection, that was evidently
overpowering him (as it was me) by a remark on a part of the picture, and
then on its likeness to the youth of the old king. 'Ah! and my child was
like her, for one so young, (as if it had really lived in childhood.) For
one so young it was surprisingly like--the nose, it was higher than
children's are--the mouth, so like hers; so cut (trying to describe its
mouth on his own.) My grief did not think of it, but if I could have had a
drawing of it! She was always thinking of others, not of herself--no one so
little selfish--always looking out for comfort for others. She had been for
hours, for many hours, in great pain--she was in that situation where
selfishness must act if it exists--when _good_ people will be selfish,
because pain makes them so--and my Charlotte was not--any grief could not
make her so! She thought our child was alive; I knew it was not, and I
could not support her mistake. I left the room, for a short time: in my
absence they took courage, and informed her. When she recovered from it,
she said, 'Call in Prince Leopold--