"The more I learn about the Prince Consort," continues Dr. Macleod,
"the more I agree with what the Queen said to me about him: 'that he
really did not seem to comprehend a selfish character, or what
selfishness was.' And on whatever day his public life is revealed to
the world, I feel certain this will be recognised."

[Illustration: Dr. Norman Macleod.]

The Queen, by revealing to the world, with a kind of holy boldness,
what the Prince's public and private life was, has justified this
confidence of her faithful friend.

Early in 1863, Dr. Macleod was led by the Queen into the mausoleum
she had caused to be raised for her husband's last resting-place.
Calm and quiet she stood and looked on the beautiful sculptured image
of him she had lost: having "that within which passeth show," her
grief was tranquil. "She is so true, so genuine, I wonder not at her
sorrow; it but expresses the greatest loss that a sovereign and wife
could sustain," said the deeply moved spectator.

An event was close at hand which was to mingle a little joy in the
bitter cup so long pressed to our Sovereign's lips. The Prince of
Wales had formed an attachment to the Princess Alexandra of Denmark,
a singularly winning and lovely lady, whose popularity, ever since
her sweet face first shone on the surging crowds that shouted her
welcome into London, has seemed always at flood-tide. Faithful to her
experience and convictions, the Queen smiled gladly on the marriage
of affection between this gentle princess and the heir to the throne,
and was present as a spectator, though still wearing her sombre