They could hardly be poorer than those; indeed, many were less
strained, but they did not carry off their poverty in the same gay
and lively manner, and if they had only torn lace and soiled
threadbare garments, they shut themselves up from all eyes, instead
of ruffling gaily as if their rags were tokens of honour.
Besides, more than one event occurred to sadden that banished
company. The tidings came of the death of the young Lady Elisabeth,
who had pine away in the hands of her keepers, and died a week after
her arrival at Carisbrooke, where her father had been so long a
prisoner, her cheek resting her open Bible.
Annora, who had known her as a grave, sweet, thoughtful child,
grieved much for her, broken-hearted as she seemed to have been for
her father; and the Princess of Orange, knowing that Nan had seen the
poor young lady more lately than herself, sent for her to converse
and tell of the pretty childish ways of that 'rosebud born in snow,'
as an English poet prettily termed the young captive.
Ere long the poor Princess was in even more grievous trouble. Her
husband, the young Prince of Orange, died of smallpox, whereupon she
fell into such transports of grief that there was the greatest
anxiety respecting her, not only from compassion, but because she was
the staunch supporter of her exiled family to the best of her
ability.
Eight days later, on her own nineteenth birthday, her son was born;
and in such gloom, that it was a marvel that mother or babe survived,
for the entire rooms were hung with black, and even the cradle of the
child was covered completely with black velvet, so that the poor
little puny infant seemed as if he were being put into a coffin.
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