Among the records, few at best, left by time ofher who was destined to be the mother of twoqueens regnant of England, there is one whichbears its own pathetic significance.

It is a very small book, only about four incheslong by three wide, bound in stamped leatherfrom which the gilding is half worn away,with a broken silver clasp, and thick, stiffpages.^[1]

Was this little book a gift from EdwardHyde to the young daughter whom he dearlyloved? Who is to tell us now?

It is a girl’s tiny notebook, a treasure perhapsto her, in which she writes down occasionalmemoranda as they occur to her, but as we turnthe leaves it seems to bridge with a familiartouch the centuries which lie between us andthat vanished time. There is a page of figures,a little poetry (“The

BU KİTABI OKUMAK İÇİN ÜYE OLUN VEYA GİRİŞ YAPIN!

Sitemize Üyelik ÜCRETSİZDİR!