The Widow of Windsor

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Mourning hung heavily over Windsor. The Queen was stunned; now and then her tears would cease and she would ask in a bewildered voice: ‘It’s not true? Tell me it’s not true. This time last year he was with us. Oh God, how could this be? I always believed we should go together.’

But he was gone; and she would never see his dear face again, never chide him for not sitting long enough over his meals, scold him for going out without a warm coat or getting his feet wet; never again would they sing their duets together, sketch, walk, ride; never again would her temper flare up and force her to say hurtful things to him which he with his calm, loving kindness always forgave. Never, never again.

‘Dearest Mama,’ pleaded Alice, ‘you must try to stop brooding.’

‘Do you think I shall ever forget him?’

‘No, Mama, never. None of us will ever forget dear Papa.’

‘To you he was the best father in the world, the wisest, most tender parent a child ever had, but he was my life. Now that he … has gone, part of me has gone with him.’

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