It was at this time she first met her future husband, then Prince Charles of Hohenzollern. The story is told that one day as she, according to her custom, was bounding quickly down the stairs in the Castle, she slipped on the last steps, and was prevented from falling by Prince Charles, who caught her in his arms. Soon after her return home the cases of her brother and father were pronounced to be hopeless. Prince Otto’s sufferings increased from month to month. His mother sought to prepare him for his end by pointing him to Christ and heaven. In January, 1862, Prince Hermann was unable to leave his bed. Princess Elizabeth nursed her father, while her mother was incessant in her attendance on her beloved son. On the 16th of February, 1862, Prince Otto died. “Thank God! thank God for ever and ever!” was the exclamation of his bereaved mother, as she stood by his body. His father, family, friends and connections from far and near, all who loved and admired the boy, joined with his mother in her thanksgiving. After the funeral the family paid a visit to Baden-Baden. On their return the young Princess threw herself with all the ardour of her nature into the work of teaching. In the Castle there was a lame boy, who had been received on account of his delicate health, and at a farm in the neighbourhood of Mon Repos the Baroness von Bibra resided for some time with two little nieces. With these three little children the Princess set up a school. Her mother observed with quiet satisfaction the patience, perseverance, and aptitude to teach displayed by her daughter. The boy, Rudolf Wackernagel, made such progress that he was able to enter the fifth class in the Gymnasium at Basle. The winter of 1862-63 was passed with her parents at Baden-Baden on account of her father’s health. Here she “came out.” From entries in her diary it would appear that she had offers of marriage at this time. There are some lines in which she writes of the kind of love that alone brings happiness, and she adds that a maiden rejects anyone who does not really love her. “A maiden,” she says, “is happy in her parents’ house, from whence she casts modest looks into the world.”