She was considerate and clever, without being gifted with wit or liveliness; she was splendidly handsome, and her high forehead, and the dignified expression of her eye, well suited a diadem. She had lost the blooming fulness of youth, which she had brought from the country, and which had not been advantageous to her beauty: the air of the city, and the increasing round of dissipation, in which she had felt it her duty to engage, had robbed her cheeks of their brilliant rose-colour, and her figure of its roundness. This, however, only increased her beauty; and Buckingham swore a thousand times, "that her beauty excelled that of his sister, as much as the sun surpassed that of the moon."

Few only held this opinion: they acknowledged her surpassing beauty, but left her in order to admire and love the countless charms of Lady Buckingham. Some, however, asked why her lovely cheeks had become so pale-why her deep eyes now bore so melancholy an expression-why her beautiful mouth now so seldom smiled? And yet in that smile a heavenly mind showed itself; and she was the queen of every one's thoughts, the sovereign-of their feelings and opinions. She was the favourite of the queen; the king smiled whenever she appeared, and he eagerly sought her in the multitude. People thought he would have conversed with her, had he ever known how to approach a woman; but he evinced his delight with strange motions of his head and hands, and if any one praised her, he said, as if giving his favourite the credit, "Steenie always pleases me: she is like him ;" and then he added, quickly reccollecting himself: "No, she is like another." He alluded to the picture of his mother, which he had shown to the Duke of Buckingham, with the intention of telling him the likeness; but his great pride would not allow it, and therefore the court was silent on the subject.

Just at this time, Henry, Prince of Wales, was taken ill. Lord Archibald never left his couch; and Charles, who loved his brother tenderly, appeared no longer at court. Robert, now left by his friend and his brother, knew no other place than by the side of Lady Buckingham. Lost to all but her, his anxious eye could not but note her increasing melancholy, and the efforts of her affectionate

mother, the old countess, to support her through some secret grief, under which she appeared ready to succumb.

The moment arrived when England was robbed of her proudest hopes: Prince Henry ended his blooming and promising life in the arms of his brother. Lord Robert had passed this terrible night at Charles's feet. Lord Archibald, though weak from watching and from grief, bore the storm manfully: he prepared the king for the event, and brought the queen to the death-bed of his royal friend ; and when Henry's last sigh freed his noble spirit, he sank for a few moments on the couch, hid his face in the cold hand of the deceased, and then quickly rose to assist the others. The unhappy Charles was carried senseless from the body of his brother: his fearful grief drew the afflicted royal pair from the contemplation of their loss and, made them fear that this their now only son was also about to be taken from them.

But Charles recovered himself: he rose from his couch, when his parents entered his room, and sank weeping at their feet; and when they blessed him, he said with a stifled voice, "Yes, I am now your only son." His head sank on the ground; and he was only roused by James's cry of anguish--"Save my son! save my last prince! he is dying!" when Charles rose, and remained standing until the physician, after recommending him to seek repose, had removed the afflicted parents. Without opposition, he was led to his couch he made attempts to speak, but in vain; his lips remained closed.

He lay during the night in a state between waking and dreaming. At last he opened his eyes, and perceived the Earl of Derbery, who was watching anxiously beside his couch. Beckoning him nearer, and signing to the other attendants to withdraw, he looked long at the favourite, and at last whispered to him a few words, which caused him to leave the sick chamber; and those who saw the young earl pass through the antechamber, pale as death, his eyes looking wildly around him, but without returning any answer to the greetings made to him, thought that death's giant power had also seized his youthful and beautiful form.

The present Prince of Wales, afterwards the unhappy Charles I.,

soon recovered: he knew that he must command his grief, in order to comfort his parents. Youth and cheerfulness appeared to have left him, and he stood like a man beside the king his father. The only thing which betrayed his inward suffering, was his increased love to his parents and his friends. He never appeared to have been so much attached to Robert as now.

But that young man was an enigma to all. After the first period of mourning had elapsed, he solemnly begged from the Earl of Bristol the hand of his daughter. He appeared to have forgotten his passionate love, and to have returned to that firmness of mind which had formerly so highly exalted him above all others. He obtained from the earl his permission for an interview with his daughter; he knelt at her feet, and with tears implored her to hear him; he brought her consent to his parents, and ever after showed himself the kindest and most atteutive betrothed to the proud but reconciled lady.

The fathers hastened to the king, to ask his approval of the engagement; but James, confused, exclaimed, "My lords, what are you doing? Steenie wished to marry your lady!" But the Duke of Buckingham had never declared himself: which being made known to James, he gave his consent, praised the lovers, and yielded himself up to his usual kind humour.

On

Though the affair was so simple, and so easily settled, yet there were some strange, half-concealed, accessory circumstances. the day of his betrothal, Robert. had a violent scene with the Prince of Wales. The latter, from the most supplicating prayers, had changed to the greatest rage: a command for arrest was overheard to proceed from his mouth, but a long succeeding silence had prevented any further knowledge of what occurred. When the two friends appeared afterwards in the anteroom, their faces bore traces of violent emotion, but also of reconciliation.

Suddenly Buckingham appeared, unannounced; and after some angry words to the earl, which were unintelligible to those around, Charles commanded the attendants to retire. The dispute now threatened to overstep all bounds; Buckingham's voice was heard raging with violence; and though his words could not be distin

guished, yet there were sharp eyes, which saw him raise his hand, as if menacing his prince. Robert seized it with giant strength, and rushed to the door, while the prince called for the guard, and ordered the duke to be arrested. Lord Robert prevented this; and Buckingham, who now appeared to have recovered himself, hastened, with incomprehensible threats, out of the room.

The

A visit to the king, by the prince, followed this event. duke received orders to retire to his own estate; and Robert, accompanied by his brother, left London. When they returned, he said that his horse had thrown him, and hurt his arm; and various were the conjectures to which this occurrence gave rise. Lady Buckingham took her leave of the queen. She was dismissed with great kindness; but she was very pale, her eye was sorrowful, and her steps tottering. As she came out of the queen's apartment, she passed by the Earl of Derbery, and respectfully bade him farewell. At this moment Lady Bristol looked timidly towards her betrothed lover; but his agitated face was bowed, in order to return the lady's greeting, as if she had been a crowned prince. Her eye rested sorrowfully upon the earl, and then she swept majestically away, never more to adorn the saloons of Whitehall.

The marriage of the young and noble couple took place soon afterwards; and as both wished for nothing more than to retire from a court, where they had become objects of attention, they obtained leave to reside at Godway Castle; while the Duke of Nottingham remained in London in order to make preparations for his embassy to Spain, whither the duchess and Lord Archibald accompanied him.

People said that the parting of Lord Derbery and the prince had been extremely affecting. The latter had left London the day before. the wedding, and did not see Lady Bristol until she had become the wife of his friend. She returned a few days after, but the world appeared dead to him, and the general gravity of his face had become melancholy. His first act was to beg the king to recal the Duke of Buckingham; for he knew well how deeply James had felt the humiliation of his favourite; and the joy which he showed at this request, gave the prince the sorrowful conviction, that the

king could sooner forgive the gross insult offered to his son, than the loss of his favourite. No one ever discovered the cause of that violent scene; but it was certain that Lady Buckingham had refused, on the same day that Lord Derbery was married, the young Earl of Carlisle. In answer to her brother's command that she should accept this offer, she said that she should never marry; she added that her health had suffered from her residence in London, and that she wished to retire, with her mother, to the castle which the king had given them, and that she hoped never to leave it again.

This castle lay in a very lonely situation, surrounded by woods, and though it brought the family a good income, yet it appeared too gloomy ever to be inhabited by one bearing the brilliant name of Buckingham. The duke was highly enraged at the resolution of a sister, whose short appearance in public had led him to form ambitious plans, justified by the approbation she excited. She resisted the most revolting insults and affronts; but when the duke reproached her with her affection for the Earl of Derbery, and mocked her by telling her how he had forsaken her for another, she uttered the first exclamation of grief. Her cruel brother, angry at the recollection of his own loss, called God to witness that he would be revenged on Lord Robert, and she sank weeping at his feet, begging him never to do this. He indulged his anger, even to ill-treatment; and she was found bleeding on the ground before him by her mother, who threatened to place her under the king's protection. The world thought that the quarrel with the prince had been the result of this scene, and that the duke was banished in a great measure to enable the unhappy mother and daughter to leave the court without molestation.

Buckingham returned even more haughty than ever. The prince took no notice of him, yet avoided every occasion of disturbing the peace which reigned at court. The same thing could hardly be said of the duke; and the prince required the greatest moderation to maintain the decency, which the usurpations of Buckingham threatened to destroy.

For the first time, after many years, Charles saw his friend, the Duke of Nottingham (whose father had died in Spain), in Godway