National opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1865-1874, 1873-09-12
THE WHITE ROSE OF YORK.

THE WHITE ROSE OF YORK.
More than three centuries ago! In
nm apartment Of the Beauchamp Tower,
London, a young maiden seems busily
Mt work over her books. Her table is
covered with folios lin the Latin Ian
guage. A simple white dress falls in
ample folds around the tall, slender
form ; at the neck is broad, pointed
lace collar; the sleeves are made in
pufls. Nothing can compare with the
exquisite delicacy Of the neck and
hands. The magnificent golden-auburn
hair is wound in a heavy coil at the
back of the head but over brow and
temples, end behind the small ears, it
ripples in numberless tiny ringlets like
the sunbeams. Golden also are the
lashes of the deep-blue eyes. The ex-
preston Of the face is firm rather than
gentle the forehead is that of a sover-
eiga the nose is aquiline but around
the lips at this moment plays smile of
unutterable sweetness, and the glance
says: Z" / am happy, for-1 love"
The maiden writes eagerly on a loose
leaf which lies in the volume before
her, and it is verses she inscrbes upon
it.
This young poetess is the daughter Of
Henry VIII. and of the lovely, unfortu-
nate Anre Boleyn Elizabeth of Eng
land. sister Of the reigning queen,
Mary. Now she lays down the pen
hastily {, Ids the little sheet, conceals it
in her dress, and resumes her melan-
choly but favorite place in the deep
window niche, where for hours long she
has been standing.
The evening shadows already fill the
little apartment, which in the brightest
sunshine does not lose its sombre
character, for it is " strong chamber "
Of the Towerl The young girl gazes
dreamily out, over the massive walls
and dark giant buildings to the river,
on whose CLASSY surface the ships are
lazily floating up and down - and
further, further on to the great gate OF
the Tower and the road leading to Lon
don. There it was she had first seen
him-hin' the man who had become
the happiness and the misery of her
young life. Fresh and glowing as if it
had been but yesterday, that supreme
moment again rose before her soul. Let
us recall it for the reader.
Mary, the newly queen, had
descended from her white palfrey before
that fatal gate, and there the most dis
tinguished prisoner IN the lower
awaited her Edward Courtenay, hoping
to receive from her aword of grace. In
the glittering retinue of the sovereign,
among all those mobiles, pages, and
beautiful court-dames, was young girl,
the most simply clad of all, who wore
white rose i'll her girdle, the Princess
Elizabeth. The eyes of this maiden
hung as if spellbound upon the form OF
the youth who was already kneeling be-
fore the queen to implore the grace he
yearned for. He was the grandson of
the Princess Catharine, the proud
daughter of Edward w., this young
Edward Courtenay who, in his twelfth
year, Immediately after his fathers
death, the Count of Devonshire had
brought to the Tower; and there, in
the tumult of that troubled time, he had
been forgotten.
They had from earliest ages been re-
nowned for their beauty and bravery.
the sons of this old race ; and 1t was
plain to see that this young prisoner OF
twenty five years had inherited the
beauty in his fullest measure. His no.
bic, regular features were deathly pale
at this moment an expression OF deep
est melancholy lay in his large, dark
eyes. The brown hair fell in floating
curls over his shoulders, and the proud
grace of his bearing enchanted all.
The queen bowed low to him. Then
she passed in her trailing crimson vel
vet dress along the row of prisoners,
now and then extending her hand to
one, and saluting all with friendly,
gracious words. As she came back and
again stood before Edward Courtenay,
something like u CLEAN of tenderness
passed over her hard face.
"And what wish you, my poor
cousin ?" she asked.
Your grace, dear queen, which for
me is freedom" he replied, and bowed
over her hand.
at is already yours. This very hour
shall be the hour of your freedom ana
your fortune Have confidence IN
your queen"
And, to the astonishment OF all, Mary |
bent low and kissed the kneeling sup
plant upon his beautiful forehead.
At this moment horse took fright
that of the Princess Elizabeth. who,
with breathless attention, had followed |
this scene. The horse rushed forward
the young girl uttered a low cry. In
the midst of the confusion that ensued,
Edward Courtenay seized the bride OF
the rearing steed with so firm a hand
that the animal trembled beneath that
powerful grasp and stood motionless..,
The white rose slipped from the
maiden's girdle, and fell at the young
mans feet-a silent thank-offering:, he
took it in his hand, looked up, and the
next moment his glance sank IN the piue
sea of two beautiful eyes.
Poor, and yet happy Courtenay J Inc
hour of freedom was for thee but the
beginning of eternal bondage Love
ior the sister of his queen, with IRE
sistlble power, tool. possession OF MS
soul.
The time passed.* Edward Courtenay
was about the court, its most cherished
courtier. For the queen herself was
enamored of her handsome cousin, ana,