Such is Winfield castle; and its noble oak, the old oak which bears its name, stands within sight of the long suite of rooms where Mary Stuart passed nine years of her sad captivity; for even nine years, however passed, teaches many a heavy lesson. Much of grief and sorrow, and those strange reverses which only the great may feel in all their fulness and their bitterness, had been comprised in the short life of this unhappy princess, once the Queen of France, then of Scotland, but at length a prisoner, when she passed beneath the portcullis of Winfield castle. Other tales of sorrow and endurance, but none more pitiable, were connected with this old castle: its early history is lost in the uncertainty of ages; no one knows who built it, or why it stands in this wild spot, whether its origin be Saxon or Danish; except that its first and oldest name was given in commemoration of some forgotten victory. Peverel of the Peak, erected the high tower, with a portion of the walls, and successive chieftains added to the structure, till at length the castle came to be much spoken of for its size and strength. Peverel's tower still remains, with a part of the old building, but that portion of it which more than any other awakens images of bygone days, are the rooms of state, with a small tower on the wall, where the captive queen resided; tradition says that she used to spend much of her time in summer on the roof of the tower, watching for signals from Leonard Dacre, who made many attempts to procure her liberation, either by force or stratagem. But the vigilance of the Earl of Shrewsbury was not readily eluded; and for nine long years did Mary inhabit this stern fortress, and watch from her high tower for succour that never came.