The democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1868-1874, 1873-09-15
rnE WHITE ROSE on YORK.


More than three centuries agol In
mn apartment OF the Beauchamp Tower,
London, q young maiden seems busily
at work over her books. Her table is
covered with .folios lin the Latin Ian
guaee. A simple white dress falls in
ample folds around the tall, slender
form /. at tho neck is q broad, pointed
lace collar; the sleeves are made in
pulIs. Nothing can compare with the
exquisite delicacy Of the neck and
hands. The magnificent golden.auburn
hair is wound In heavy coil at the
back Of the head but over brow and
temples, and behind the small ears, 1t
ripples in numberless tiny ringlets like
tho 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 soyer.
eign the nose is aquiline; but around
thelips at this moment plays a smile of
unutterable sweetness, and the glance
says: "I am happy, for-I loyel"
The maiden writes eagerly on o loose
leaf which lies in the volume before
her, nnd IL is verses she iuscribes upon
it.
This young poetess is the daughter Of
Henry VIII. and OF the lovely, lnfortu-
nate Anne Boleyn; Elizabeth Of Eng
land, sister Of the reigning queen,
Mary. Now she lays down the PEN
hastily folds the little sheet, conceals It
in her dress, and resumes her melan-
choly but fayorite 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 1t is q "strong chamber :"
Of the fowerl The young girl gazes
dreamily ont, 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 oil
the Tower and the road leading to Lon
don. There 1t was she had first seen
him-hfm; tho man who had become
the happiness and the misery Of her
young lie. Fresh and glowing as il it
had been but yesterday, that supreme
moment again rose before her soul. Let
us recall it for tho reader.
Mary, the. ncwly.crowned queen, had
descended from herwhite pallrey before
that fatal gate, and there the most dis
tinguished prisoner in the Tower
awaited her, Edward Courtenay, hoping
to receive from her aword Of grace. In
tho glittering retinue OF the sovereign,
among all those mobiles, pages, and
beautiful court.dames, was q nggirl,
the most simply clad Of oil, who wore a
white roso III her girdle, the Princess
Elizabeth. The eyes OF this maiden
hung as II 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 Deyonshire had
brought TO the Tower sand 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 sec that this young prisoner OF
twenty-five years had inherited the
beauty in his fullest measure. His no.
BILE, regular features were deathly pale
at this moment; m 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
ono, and saluting oil with friendly,
gracious words. As she came back and
againstood before Edward Courtenay,
something like o gleam Of tenderness
passed over her hard face. 09if
"And what wish you, my poor
cousin 2" she asked.
"Your grace, dear queen, which for
mo is freedom" he replied, and bowed
over her hand.
otis already yours. This very hour
shall be the hour Of your freedom and
your fortunel Have confdenee,i in
your queen" 80
And, 10 the astonishment Of all, Mary
bent low and kissed the kneeling sup
plant upon his beautiful forehead.
Atthis moment horse took fright
that Of the Princess Elizabeth, who,
with breathless attention, had followed
this scene. The horse rushed forward; F;
tho young girl uttered low cry. In
the midst Of the confusion that ensued,
Edward Courtenay seized the bride Of
the rearing steed with 30 firm o hand
that the animal trembled beneath that
powerful grasp aud stood motionless.
The, white rose. slipped from the
rnaiden's girdle, and fell at the young
mans ieet-a silent .thank.ofierine. He
took IL In his hand, looked up, and the
next moment his glance sank in the blue
sea Of two beautiful eyes. - q ~
Poor, and yet hnppy Courtenay | The
hour OF freedom was for thee but the
beginning OF eternal bondage Love
for the sister Of his queen, with ire.
sistible power, tool! possession Of his
soul. .4.
Tho time passed.. Edward courtenay
was about the court, its most cherished
courtier. For the queen herself was
enamored OF her handsome cousin, and,
A.s.,. Al !. /. -. "A ale Aeak MATING an