tunate. She was taking rapid exercise with the prince upon the south
side of the garden-terrace. All at once the royal pair paused at the
summit of the ascent leading from George the Fourth's gateway. The
prince disappeared along the eastern terrace, leaving the queen alone.
And there she stood, her slight, faultless figure sharply defined
against the clear sky. Nothing was wanting to complete the picture: the
great bay-windows of the Victoria Tower on the one hand--the balustrade
of the terrace on the other--the home park beyond. It was thrilling to
feel that that small, solitary figure comprehended all the might and
majesty of England--and a thousand kindling aspirations were awakened by
the thought.

But it was, as has been said, the merry month of June, and Windsor
Castle looked down in all its magnificence upon the pomp of woods, and
upon the twelve fair and smiling counties lying within its ken. A joyous
stir was within its courts--the gleam of arms and the fluttering of
banners was seen upon its battlements and towers, and the ringing of
bells, the beating of drums, and the fanfares of trumpets, mingled with
the shouting of crowds and the discharge of ordnance.

Amidst this tumult a grave procession issued from the deanery, and took
its way across the lower quadrangle, which was thronged with officers
and men-at-arms, in the direction of the lower gate. Just as it arrived
there a distant gun was heard, and an answering peal was instantly
fired from the culverins of the Curfew Tower, while a broad standard,
emblazoned with the arms of France and England within the garter,
and having for supporters the English lion crowned and the red dragon
sinister, was reared upon the keep. All these preparations betokened the
approach of the king, who was returning to the castle after six weeks'
absence.

Though information of the king's visit to the castle had only preceded
him by a few hours, everything was ready for his reception, and the
greatest exertions were used to give splendour to it.

In spite of his stubborn and tyrannical nature, Henry was a popular
monarch, and never showed himself before his subjects but he gained
their applauses; his love of pomp, his handsome person, and manly
deportment, always winning him homage from the multitude. But at
no period was he in a more critical position than the present. The
meditated divorce from Catherine of Arragon was a step which found no
sympathy from the better portion