On the night of July 18 a travelling carriage dashed towards FÜrstenburg, the first town within the Duke of Mecklenburg's dominions, the driver urging its horses to their utmost.

Within sat the King, pale and thin from a severe attack of malaria. With him were the Crown Prince and Prince William, the faces of the boys wet with tears, their eyes struggling with weariness.

On dashed the horses.

"Faster! Faster!" now and then ordered the King, clenching his hands.

Presently a rosy light heralded the day, the clarion of the cocks announced the morning, the stars faded from the brightening sky, and the carriage dashed through FÜrstenburg.

Two hours more. The King looked at his watch and cried:

"Faster! Faster!"

The people of the town, startled by the wheels, wondered who was passing in such haste. Later came a second carriage, a girl's white, tearful face gazing from one window, a round, rosy-cheeked boy against her shoulder.

It was the King, the Crown Prince and Prince William, and Princess Charlotte and Prince Carl hastening to Queen Louisa.

After she had reached Mecklenburg the King had joined her.

Never had he seen her look happier.

Like a girl, she told him of how she had been met at FÜrstenburg by her sister, Frederika, her father and her brothers. Her grandmother, being old, welcomed her at the door of the Duke's palace, and for the first time in many years she found herself alone with her own people.

When the King came they were given a public reception.

"But only one, let it be, dear father," begged Queen Louisa. "I feel that this happiness cannot last. Something oppresses me, so please let us make the most of seeing each other in quiet."

When she dressed herself for this one reception, her ladies noticed that she had only pearls for jewels.

"I have sold the rest," she said with a smile, "but, never mind, pearls are suitable for me, for they signify tears, and I have shed many. Moreover," and she took out a miniature worn about her neck, "I have my best treasure."

It was a picture of the King, and the Queen gazed at it lovingly.

"After all these years, my good Fritz loves me quite the same," she said, and looked as happy as a girl.

"Come, Fritz," she cried to her husband, and led him about, showing him this and that and telling stories of her childhood. Never had she seemed so happy.

One morning they were to go to see a chapel the King had expressed an interest in.

"I will stay with George," said the Queen, who complained of not feeling well, and so they left her with her brother.

When her father returned he found on his writing desk a note written in French, by his daughter, the Queen.

"My dear father," he read, "I am very happy to-day as your daughter and as the wife of the best of husbands.

"Louisa.

"New Strelitz, July 28, 1810."

At once he showed it, to the King, and the two men were silent with happiness. But little did they think that never again was the woman who so loved them to touch paper or pen.

She had not been well, but nothing had been thought of it. And now, in the early summer morning, the King was hastening to her.

"Faster!" he called. "Faster!"

She had told him good-bye with a smile and the hope of soon seeing him, and he had returned to Berlin.

There had come despatch after despatch.

"The Queen is ill. She grows worse. Come! Come!"

But this poor, always unfortunate King was himself severely ill with a sudden attack of malaria. For days he could not leave his bed, and it was not until the twenty-eighth that he set off for New Strelitz. And then the Queen was so ill there was no delaying.

It was between four and five in the morning when the carriage reached the castle.

The Queen, who lay awake in her room, heard them come. At midnight she had grown worse, at two she had called out to her sister, who at once went to her bed.

"Dear Frederika," she asked in a voice like a whisper, "what will my husband and children do if I die?"

But now the King had come.

In the hall he met the physicians. They explained that an abscess had formed and burst in one lung. The heart was involved and the Queen was sinking.

"Majesty," they said, "there is no hope."

The Queen's old grandmother, her withered cheeks wet with tears, took the King's hand in both of hers.

"While there is life there is hope," she said, her old voice struggling to comfort him.

Unlucky Frederick William shook his head.

"If she were not mine," he said, "she might recover."

The old Duke joined him. In the night they had called him from his sleep.

The Princess Frederika was at the door.

"Is my daughter in danger?" he asked.

She pressed his hand.

"Lord," said the poor old father, "Thy ways are not our ways."

With trembling hands he now led the King to the room.

Propped up on pillows, the bed curtains looped back to give her air, lay poor Queen Louisa.

On one side was the old Countess von Voss, Frau von Berg held one hand, and Princess Frederika the other.

The poor "Rose of the King," whose stem had been so roughly handled, had drooped forever.

When the physicians had entreated her to move that she might be more comfortable, it was impossible for her strength to accomplish it.

"I am a Queen," she said sadly, "and I have no power to move my arm."

But when she saw the King, joy made her like the old Louisa.

The King embraced her as if he would never again see her.

"Am I then so ill?" she asked.

The King went from the room.

The poor Queen gazed from one face to the other, and the strength again left her.

"The King seems as if he wished to take leave of me," she gasped. "Tell him not to do so, or I shall die directly."

At once he returned and sat on her bed and the minutes wore away, the arms of the old Countess supporting her dear Queen Louisa.

"Where are my children, Fritz?"

The Crown Prince and William came, hand in hand, to her bed.

"My Fritz! My William!" she said, and gave them each a smile. Then she struggled to ask about Charlotte, who had sent her a letter about her birthday full of tears that her mother was absent.

The effort brought on such pain that they sent the boys away.

They went from the castle and out into the garden where the air was fresh and cool and the dew lay on the roses.

In the room the doctors were begging the Queen to stretch her arms that she might lie higher.

"I cannot," said the poor Queen. "Only death will help me."

Holding her hand, the King sat on the bed, the old Countess knelt, and Frau von Berg supported her head.

All through her illness she had repeated over and over the texts which she loved and found comfort in, but now her lips could only flutter as the breath came slower and slower.

The poor King, with bowed head, was thinking of Jena and all his Queen had suffered.

Suddenly the Queen drew her head against the breast of Frau von Berg. Her blue eyes opened and gazed towards heaven.

"I am dying," she said quite distinctly, "Lord Jesus, make it short."

In a few minutes the Queen of Prussia had passed beyond the power of Napoleon to harm.

"The ways of the Lord," wrote the old Countess, "are implacable and holy, but they are dreadful to travel. The King, the children, the city have lost all in the world. I speak not for myself, but my sorrow is great. My Queen! Oh, my poor Queen!"