Poor little Isabella, who had left France so brilliantly, returned a sad child-widow, and all that remained to her of her former splendor was a silver drink-cup and a few saucers. As Shakspeare says:
"My queen to France, from whence set forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like sweet May, Sent back like Hallowmas or shortest day."
She was received throughout France with joy, and tears of sympathy.
When Isabella was eighteen. Madcap Hal again offered his hand to her, supposing she had forgotten her former prejudice, but although she married again she was so far faithful to the memory of her English husband that she would not accept the son of his murderer. Some years later, when Prince Hal was king, he married her beautiful sister Katherine.
Isabella's second husband was her cousin, the Duke of Orleans, whose beautiful poems are considered classic in France. Again she was the joy of her family and the pride of France, but all her happiness was destined to be fleeting, for she survived her marriage only one year. Her husband, who loved her fondly, wrote after her death:
"Alas! Death, who made thee so bold, To take from me my lovely princess, Who was my comfort, my life, My good, my pleasure, my riches? Alas! I am lonely, bereft of my mate-- Adieu! my lady, my lily! Our loves are forever severed."
And in another poem, full of expressions that show how very devoted was his affection for her, he says:
"Above her lieth spread a tomb Of gold and sapphires blue, The gold doth show her blessedness, The sapphires mark her true.
"And round about, in quaintest guise, Was carved--'Within this tomb there lies The fairest thing to mortal eyes.'"
Farewell, sweet Isabella!--a wife at eight, a widow at twelve, and dead at twenty-two,--your life was indeed short, and, though not without happy days, sorrow blended largely with its joy!
Some forty years ago the northern part of the State of New York was very sparsely settled. In one of the remote counties, which for a name's sake we will call Macy County, a stout-hearted settler, named Devins, posted himself beyond the borders of civilization, and hewed for his little family a home in the heart of a forest that extended all the way from Lake Champlain to Lake Ontario. His nearest neighbor was six miles away, and the nearest town nearly twenty; but the Devinses were so happy and contented that the absence of company gave them no concern.