AFTERNOON lessons were over; Bella March had put the maps and schoolbooks that had been used during the day in their places on the shelves of the bookcase, while her younger sister Grace tidied the work-basket. Both girls then drew near the writing-table where their governess, Miss Elwin, still sat correcting her pupils' exercise books.
After a few moments she asked pleasantly, "Can I do anything for you?”
“Oh yes, dear Miss Elwin, indeed you can," answered Bella; "the tea bell will not ring for quite half an hour, and if you will tell us a story, we should like it so much. We do not mean to be idle, for we can listen and work for our poor friends at the same time. And look! Grace has drawn your arm-chair up to the fire, and we are going to have such a nice time.”
Miss Elwin took the seat her loving little pupil had placed for her, Bella ran to bring a footstool; so, without delay, Miss Elwin began her story of THE CAPTIVE PRINCESS.
Two years ago I spent my midsummer holidays in the Isle of Wight, and a very pleasant time it was. Long, happy days were spent in visits to different places of interest. At Ryde, Newport, and Blackgang there was much, oh, so much, to be seen and admired; but I think the excursion I enjoyed most of all was one to Carisbrooke Castle, just in the middle of the island.
It is a gray ruin now; the soft green grass spreads like a carpet over its old banqueting-hall, and the ivy climbs over tower and battlement. But the old Castle is beautiful even in decay. Never to be forgotten views of sea and land were those I got from its old walls.
Memory was busy, too, recalling past scenes. More than two hundred years—that old Castle, then a stronghold, had been the prison of a royal child—the princess Elizabeth, second daughter of King Charles I. Born in a palace, and until she was six years of age surrounded by all the splendor of a court, still, from all accounts we have of her, she must have been a gentle and affectionate child. Perhaps she wondered sometimes why her father almost always looked so sad, or why her mother should seem so anxious and unhappy.
Poor child! she did not know what dark clouds of sorrow had gathered round the throne of the Stuarts, for she was too young to understand the full meaning of sad news brought one day to the palace: that the king was at open war with his subjects. The queen mother escaped to France and her children were scattered, never all to meet again in this world.
The princess Elizabeth with her little brother, the duke of Gloucester (four years younger than herself), were taken as prisoners to Sion House, Brentford. Here, through years of civil war that followed, her childhood passed into girlhood; a sad, lonely girlhood. Still, her education does not seem to have been neglected, for in a curious old letter written by one of her tutors he describes his pupil as "tall and graceful in her movements, but better still as a lady of excellent parts, great discretion, and remarkable understanding." High praise to have been fairly deserved by a girl of thirteen, was it not?
Perhaps the happiest days in her life were those in which she was allowed to pay a visit to her father, himself a prisoner. If Charles I had not been a wise king, he had always shown himself an affectionate father, and a few hours spent in the society of his gentle daughter must have been a real cheer and comfort to the unhappy monarch.
But the day on which parent and child were to say farewell to each other came all too soon.
Sentence of death had been passed upon the king, and the day of his execution fixed for January 30th, 1649.
The day before, the princess Elizabeth was allowed to pay him a last visit. It must have been an hour of deep sorrow for both. The king took his daughter in his arms and for a few moments the poor child sobbed as if her heart would break, but when told by her father how it grieved him to see her so distressed, she showed how strong and unselfish her love for him was by drying her tears and listening calmly to his parting words.
He told her his wishes about many things, and gave her loving messages for her brothers and sisters, and one to be given to her mother if ever she saw her again.
Then followed a few words of counsel to herself, and a precious gift-her father's Bible-from that day her greatest earthly treasure. Then the time allowed for their interview expired, and an attendant entered the room to conduct the princess back to the place of her confinement.
The day following, the head of King Charles I had fallen on the scaffold, and the princess Elizabeth might let her tears flow unhindered.
But God, who healeth the broken in heart and bindeth up their wounds (Psa. 147:33He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. (Psalm 147:3)), was teaching, though in the School of Sorrow, the young princess. In the Bible that had been her father's she read of a Savior who had said, "Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28).) And like a weary dove she turned to Him and found rest and peace.
One who knew her well wrote of her: "Her active piety improved the little life allotted to her, and she grew fast in the fear and love of God.”
Shortly after her father's execution, she (still a prisoner) was removed to Carisbrooke Castle, which she never left again, for in less than two years after the sorrowful parting with her father, the Lord gently took her to be with Himself.
She had never been strong; and there was no loving mother or affectionate sister near to notice how pale and thin she was growing. She took a severe cold from walking one showery day in the grounds of the castle. A low, nervous fever followed, and she drooped like a fair flower, and grew weaker day by day.
One day the attendant left her, as she thought, to sleep. Returning after a short absence, she found her truly asleep, but it was the sleep of death; her face pillowed on her open Bible, and a smile of perfect peace resting on the cold, pale features.
She was buried in Newport Church, and for years her very grave seemed forgotten, till in the year 1793 some workmen employed in the church found a stone slab bearing the simple words:—“Elizabeth, daughter of the late king Charles, deceased September 8th, 1650.”
A marble monument, placed over the grave by the wish of our present queen Victoria, in loving memory of the princess Elizabeth, now marks the spot.
Perhaps some day you may see it for yourselves, but the lesson I am most anxious you should learn from the story is that "Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." (Prov. 31:3030Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. (Proverbs 31:30).)
“Thank you, Miss Elwin, for telling us such an interesting story. I shall take more pains to improve my knowledge of English history now I have heard about the princess who, though only the same age as myself, had to go through so many troubles," said Bella thoughtfully, as the ringing of the tea bell gave the little party a signal to leave the school-room.
KING Solomon of old
A happy choice had made;
'Twas not for life, 'twas not for gold,
Nor honors that he pray'd.
He chose that better part
That leads to heavenly joys
A wise and understanding heart;
And God approved the choice.
Far better than his crown,
And all his grand array,
That wisdom which the Lord sent down,
To guide him in his way.
If this is what we seek,
We cannot ask amiss;
The youngest poorest child may speak,
And ask the Lord for this.