While Lady Rosamond received the homage of a thousand hearts and plunged into the ceaseless round of busy life, her husband was engaged as a fierce combatant in earnest conflicts in the political arena within the limits of Parliament. Enclosed by vast and wondrous piles of stately architecture, the champions fight for their respective boroughs with untiring energy and vehement fiery ardour. The ministry, headed by the Duke of Wellington, stood much in need of all the force which it could bring to bear upon the rallying strength of the opposing element. Among the latter was arrayed Mr. Bereford. His penetrating judgment and shrewd activity were considered an important acquisition to the ranks of his colleagues. His masterly and eloquent harangues never failed to force deep conviction and prove the justice of his principles. Even Lady Rosamond felt a secret pride in listening to those earnest appeals which disclosed the honest motives by which they were actuated. Though not gifted with the brilliant powers displayed in the conversational genius of those women who had evidently devoted much attention to the study of politics, her ladyship tried to feel an interest in the measures for which her husband had devoted many of his waking hours, his superior intellectual powers, his fond ambition. In this source she seemed to find a sense of relief. She never flinched when any exaction was required. If she could make some recompense for such pure and fervent love, no matter at what cost or sacrifice, gladly would the conscientious principles of Lady Rosamond accept the terms. Her marked concern and unremitting attention failed not to elicit admiration from the Premier, who, despite his stern, disciplined nature, had not forgotten to pay tribute to the attractions of a beautiful woman. The Iron Duke indeed showed a decided preference for her ladyship. He was charmed with the sweet, unassuming, and childlike manner of the young matron, and took delight in contrasting these with the glaring and ostentatious demeanor of these high-minded and profound women with whom he daily mingled.

Lady Rosamond repaid the gallant Duke for such attention. She loved to engage him in earnest and animated conversation, and watch the fire that kindled the soul within by the light emitted from the deep flashing eye. She felt a deep interest in the stern old warrior from the endearing associations which his memory had woven around her. While in Fredericton her ladyship had heard many stories in which her friends had also figured in close relation to the hero of a hundred fights. Sir Howard Douglas had oftentimes entertained his family circle with a recital of such scenes. The friend of Sir Howard, Colonel Trevelyan, was also an actor in the great drama. But the last personage could not possibly cause any tender interest to the mind of Lady Rosamond.

Gerald Bereford was opposed in principle to the present administration. He formed one of the strongest leaders of the opposition. His heart was in the work before him; he would not flinch from the responsibility. His haggard countenance often gave evidence of the spirit which influenced his actions; yet he wearied not. A mild reproof from his lovely wife would for the while have some effect, when he would devote all his leisure to her comfort and pastime, being fully repaid by the most simple caress or quiet smile.

Early in the next year an event followed which had a great effect both on political and social life. His Majesty, George the Fourth, had passed away from earth. Among those within our acquaintance few there were who deeply regretted the circumstance.

Lady Rosamond, in writing a friend, said: "We cannot indeed entertain any lasting regrets for one who inflicted such misery upon one of our sex. The unfortunate queen and her tragical end inspires me with a feeling bordering upon hate towards the author. As women we must feel it, but as women we must forgive."

Thus was the matter viewed by her ladyship, who now looked forward with happy anticipation to the approaching and brilliant pageantry. The "Sailor King" sat peacefully on the throne of England. In the days of her childhood Lady Rosamond loved to climb upon the knee of a handsome nobleman—in truth a gallant prince. Lovingly did she nestle against his manly breast with eager, childish confidence, throwing her beautiful silken ringlets over his shoulders in gleeful pride. Many times had she kissed the lips of her royal patron, while he playfully designated her his "White Rose of England." Among the many beautiful trinkets she had received at his hands none were more valuable or precious than the jewelled locket bearing the simple inscription "William," appended to a miniature chain, which she had always worn around her neck in grateful remembrance. The kind-hearted prince had won the lovely child. Kind memories can never be obliterated from kind hearts.

Lady Rosamond in after years never forgot the sailor prince of her childhood days. The old admiral was proud of the attachment thus formed in his early career. He had entertained towards the generous prince a warm regard. In naval cruises they were often thrown in company, while on more than one occasion Sir Thomas had granted leave to obtain the service of his young friend for a lengthened cruise.

It is not, therefore, a matter of surprise that Lady Rosamond hailed with rapturous delight the accession of the sailor prince as William the Fourth of England. Her hopes beat high as she thought of the approaching ceremony when she would once more be recognized by her old friend. Has she outgrown his memory? or has he kept her still in view through each successive stage of life? Many were the speculations formed within the mind of her ladyship as she made the elaborate preparation necessary for the intended reception. The day at length arrived. The king and queen were to receive the nobility of the realm. Dukes, earls, viscounts, marquises, baronets, with all the titled members of their families, were to pass in array before the conscious glance and smile of majesty.

The royal reception chamber blazed with dazzling splendour. Titled courtiers in costly dresses of crimson, purple, and violet velvet, embroidered in gold, glittering with the many orders upon their breasts, while the jewelled hilt of the golden scabbards flashed in dazzling rays of light. These lined the apartment or moved to and fro at the summon of royalty. Ladies of honor were grouped at respective distances from their sovereign mistress ready to obey her slightest behest. Their costly robes, courtly grace, and distinguished appearance, befitted the noble blood which ran through their veins as proof of their present proud position. To a stranger the scene was impressive. On first entering the train of attendants and military display is sufficient to quell the most stout hearted. Passing along with as much dignity as the person can, he is announced in loud stentorian tones by the lord chamberlain, who glances at the card thus presented. Then advancing towards the throne, kneeling down, kissing the back of His Majesty's hand, and passing along in the train of his predecessor forms the remaining part of the ceremony. During this time hundreds will have taken part in these proceedings, happy in the thought of having received a respectful bow from the grateful monarch in return for the deep and almost overpowering embarrassment that possesses the one taking part in those imposing ceremonies.

The rising blush on Lady Rosamond's cheek showed the excitement that stirred the depths of her inward feelings. She was carried back to the happy child days when no shade hovered near; when no bitter concealment lurked in the recesses of her joyous heart; when her fond plans were openly discussed before the sailor prince with intense merriment and glee. Vainly she sighed as she thought of what might have been. Though in the present the inference was distasteful, her ladyship could not dismiss the subject. As she stands quietly awaiting her turn in the order of presentation, let us once more picture the beautiful face and form which have won our entire sympathy.

Lady Rosamond has lost none of the beauty hitherto depicted in her charms. She is still lovely as when described while a guest at Government House. Her cheek has lost none of its roundness; the outline is full, striking, fresh and interesting; the expressive dark eyes have lost not their usual brilliancy, save a mournful tenderness that is more often betrayed than formerly; the lustrous black hair is wantonly revelling in all the luxuriance of its former beauty. Time nor experience has not the ruthless power to desecrate such sacred charms. Lady Rosamond has yet to rejoice in these; she has yet to pluck the blossoms of happiness springing up from the soil of buried hope where seeds had been scattered by the unseen hand of Mercy. Well might Gerald Bereford have been fond of his wife as she approached the "Sailor King," in her train of white satin and velvet sparkling with diamonds, with a grace bespeaking ease, trust and dignified repose. The announcement of Lady Rosamond Bereford afforded striking proof of the warm-heartedness of his majesty, showing he did not forget his former white rose of England. His eagle eye detected the small jewelled gift almost concealed within the breast of her ladyship, as she lowly bent down to kiss the hand of her sovereign. A beautiful blush overspread the features of Lady Rosamond as she felt the directed gaze. "Your ladyship has not forgotten the sharer of her childhood joys," exclaimed His Majesty with expressive smile.

A deep blush succeeded when the kneeling suppliant recovered sufficient self-possession to reply. "Your Majesty will pardon this occasion to acknowledge the great honor conferred by this tender allusion to a loving and loyal subject."

In her blushing loveliness, Lady Rosamond received a fragrant and beautiful white rose from the hand of her liege sovereign as expressive of the desired continuation of his former regard and endearment. This was truly a remarkable moment in the life of her ladyship. She felt the true force and depth of friendship. If the favor of her monarch could give happiness, would she not exercise a large monopoly? Yet there was happiness enjoined in the ceremony. His Majesty was happy to meet his former friend and companion. Her Majesty the Queen was happy to find one in whom her husband found so much to admire. Gerald Bereford was truly happy in having such royal favour extended towards the lovely being upon whom he lavished his fond love.

These circumstances gave some relief to lady Rosamond and taught her many lessons through suffering to which she could return with thankful gratitude for the bitter trials so heavily imposed. Sometimes a feeling of remorse took possession of her ladyship as she looked upon the face of her husband and fancied that there rested a yearning, wistful look, a lingering for her truer sympathy. She sometimes felt that her husband also cherished his vain regrets, his moments of bitter conflicts when he tried to smother the unbidden thoughts that would thus arise. These fancies often roused Lady Rosamond to a sense of her duty with wholesome effect.

This mark of royal favor was not lost upon Lady Rosamond. Her Majesty expressed a wish to receive the king's favorite among the ladies of her household. But the tearful eyes of the beautiful matron forbade any further mention. The German propensities of Queen Adelaide would not force any measure thus proposed. Lady Rosamond had full access to the royal household, receiving the confidence of her royal patroness with true grace.

Now began the struggle for Reform in the Parliament. Throughout the kingdom arose the cry of Reform which had been echoed from the second French revolution. Among all classes arose the war note of Reform. It sounded loud and high. It was borne over the continent. Nothing but Reform. Reform of the House of Commons was the subject discussed at every fireside.

Affairs had now reached a political crisis. The Duke of Wellington, with his unrestrained and high-bred principles of conservatism, could not brook such an innovation upon the time-honored laws and customs of the British constitution. He could not favor a faction that would countenance the spoliation of England's hitherto undimmed greatness and national pride. Hence arose a new ministry under the united leadership of Earl Grey and Lord John Russell. In Gerald Bereford the supporters of the Reform measure found a zealous adherent. He seemed to lay aside every other consideration in advancing the scheme which lay so near his heart. Lengthy and private consultations were held between the latter and his sincere friend and adviser, Earl Grey. Days and nights were passed in fierce and endless controversy in the House of Commons.

This was the only point in which Lady Rosamond failed to convince her husband of the injury sustained by such constant turmoil and anxiety involved in these measures. When she quietly endeavored to reason upon such a course of conduct he smilingly replied: "My darling, duty calls me and you would not see me inactive when the demand is so imperative? Surely my beautiful rose would not like to have the breath of slander attached to her husband as guilty of cowardice or desertion from the ranks of his party? Ah, no, my darling," cried the earnest politician, preventing his wife's retort with the tender kisses of a true and ardent love. It did indeed seem strange that the more earnestly Lady Rosamond pleaded with her husband the more firmly did he resist, and, if possible, the more ardent he became in his attention. Lady Rosamond felt a strange and unaccountable desire to interfere with the plans laid down by Gerald Bereford. Many times she urged upon Earl Grey the necessity of moderation, and, with a vehemence foreign to her nature, strove to impress him with prophetic visions of anxiety, doubt, and fear. Her ladyship was somewhat reconciled by the resignation of the Premier, who, in his joking manner, attributed his want of success to the hostile attitude of the wife of his friend, Gerald Bereford.

But the conflict was kept up with renewed energy. The Reform party were not to be thus easily outwitted. They were still sanguine. During the period when the ministry vacillated between the Conservatives and Whigs, the spirits of the latter never drooped. Victory was the watchword that attached itself to the Reform party. Victory was the cry of Gerald Bereford as he labored day and night with untiring zeal, utterly regardless of the ravages thus made upon his hitherto robust constitution. In this exciting struggle the young politician was unconscious of the deadly and venomous growth taking root within under the baneful effect of negligence and over-taxed powers.