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Updated: June 11, 2025
She for her part could not help pitying him, and she thanked God she was Queen of England. When the time came for returning some of these visits, the royal pair set forth in their yacht, much to Victoria's satisfaction. "I do love a ship!" she exclaimed, ran up and down ladders with the greatest agility, and cracked jokes with the sailors. The Prince was more aloof.
"I've been up at Fairview to see about Mrs. Flint. She isn't much better." "Is Victoria home?" Mr. Crewe demanded, with undisguised interest. "Poor dear girl!" said Mrs. Pomfret, "of course I wouldn't have mentioned the subject to her, but she wanted to know all about it. It naturally makes an awkward situation between you and her, doesn't it?" "Oh, Victoria's level-headed enough," Mr.
Victoria's confidence in her father made the situation all the more hopeless. "I'm sure I don't," she answered quickly; "ever since ever since I first laid eyes upon you I have had a kind of belief in you." "Belief?" he echoed. "Yes," she said, "belief that that you had a future.
Nevertheless, George was one of the richest men in the world or at least he had been while on the throne, and he would be again should he ever become the reigning monarch of England. The enormous wealth which had begun to accumulate in Victoria's frugal reign had grown like a rolling snowball for over a hundred years.
And isn't it as certain as anything can be that he'll find some other charming girl, who'll faint with joy, when he asks her, and give you all the grandchildren you want? And meanwhile we have this bit of the heroic this defiance of a miry world, cropping up to help us out of our mud-holes. I'm awfully sorry for Harry but I take off my hat to the girl." Victoria's expression became sarcastic.
Such tributes were delightful, but they remained in the nebulous region of words, and Disraeli had determined to give his blandishments a more significant solidity. He deliberately encouraged those high views of her own position which had always been native to Victoria's mind and had been reinforced by the principles of Albert and the doctrines of Stockmar.
I do answer for that. Now his is a beauty carriage and horses, and servants as grand as Queen Victoria's or Prince Albert's, for I did be seeing them in London myself. Tuesday and Wednesday had passed quickly away, and Thursday brought to Owen amusements similar to those of the previous days; but no private intercourse with his relations.
Suddenly a hook-nosed Asiatic gentleman emerged through the once-was gateway a picture of a Bible shepherd but for the long-barreled gun he carried instead of crook a brown shadow against brown masonry. He challenged them in Arabic, and Curley Crothers answered him in Queen Victoria's English that all was well. "Everything in the garden's lovely!" he asserted, in a deep-sea sing-song.
Still, however, she was too shy to say anything about her own acute mental misery, and no one suspected that anything was wrong, until one day something dejected in the child's attitude happened to catch Aunt Victoria's attention. Beth was sitting on an African stool, her elbow on her knee, her chin resting on her little hand, her grey eyes looking up through the window at the summer sky.
The mother of the Emperor, the Empress Frederick, had much of Queen Victoria's good sense and still more of her strong will. A thoroughly English princess, she had, in German eyes, one serious defect: she failed to see, or at least to acknowledge, the superiority of most things German to most things English. She had an English nurse, Emma Hobbs, to assist at the birth of the future Emperor.
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