So absorbing and unwavering had been the love of the Queen for her husband, who to her, was "nobler than the noblest"; such a proud homage of the soul had there been--such a dear habit of the heart, in one with whom habit counted for much, that her people were filled with the most intense anxiety on her behalf. They feared that this cruel stroke which lopped off the best part of her life, would kill her, or plunge her into a depth of melancholy, sadder than death. For some time she was not able to sleep. The thought of that chamber, so lately the scene of all the anxious activity of the sickroom, wherein softly moved troubled physicians and nurses, tearful attendants and awe-struck children, but where now there were shadowed lights, and solemn silence, and where lay that beautiful, marble-like shape, so familiar, yet so strange--that _something_ which was not _he_, yet was inexpressibly dear, kept her awake, face to face with her sorrow,--and when at last, the bulletin from Windsor announced, "The Queen has had some hours' sleep," her people all in mourning as they were, felt like ringing joy-bells. The friend from whom I have before quoted, Mrs. Crosland, a most loyal lady, wrote on this text a very sweet poem, from which I am tempted to give a few verses: "Sleep, far the night is round thee spread, Thou daughter of a line of kings; Sleep, widowed Queen, white angels' wings Make canopy above thy head! "Sleep, while a million prayers rise up To Him who knew all earthly sorrow, That day by day, each soft to-morrow May melt the bitter from thy cup. . . . . . . . . "Long life ask for thee, dear Queen, And moonlight peace, since joy is set. And Time's soft touch on dark regret. And memories calm of what has been! "Long life for thee--for our best sake. To be our stay 'mid hopes and fears. Through many far-off future years, Till thou by Albert's side shall wake!" It seems Her Majesty could not bear the thought of her beloved Albert, whose nature was so bright and joyous, and beauty-loving, resting amid the darkness and heavy silence and "cold obstruction" of the royal vault; so, as early as the 18th of December, she drove with the Princess Alice to Frogmore, where they were-received by the Prince of Wales, Prince Louis of Hesse, and several officers of the Royal Household. Then, leaning on the arm of her noble daughter, the Queen walked about the pleasant gardens, till she fixed upon the spot, where now stands the magnificent mausoleum, which, splendid and beautiful as art can make it, is like a costly casket, for the dust, infinitely more precious to her than all the jewels of her crown. It was sweet for her to feel that thus under the shadow of her mother's dear home, the two most sacred loves and sorrows of her life would be forever associated.