more to say? So much, my dear, that words cannot convey it. Let it be
untold; but whenever you hear or read that which is beautiful or tender,
think 'this is what Beatrice would have said to me and could not!'

"You will be a great man, dear, the foremost or one of the foremost of
your age. You have already promised me to persevere to this end: I will
not ask you to promise afresh. Do not be content to accept the world as
women must. Great men do not accept the world; they reform it--and you
are of their number. And when you are great, Geoffrey, you will use your
power, not for self-interest, but to large and worthy ends; you will
always strive to help the poor, to break down oppression from those who
have to bar it, and to advance the honour of your country. You will
do all this from your own heart and not because I ask it of you, but
remember that your fame will be my best monument--though none shall ever
know the grave it covers.

"Farewell, farewell, farewell! Oh, Geoffrey, my darling, to whom I have
never been a wife, to whom I am more than any wife--do not forget me in
the long years which are to come. Remember me when others forsake you.
Do not forget me when others flatter you and try to win your love, for
none can be to you what I have been--none can ever love you more than
that lost Beatrice who writes these heavy words to-night, and who will
pass away blessing you with her last breath, to await you, if she may,
in the land to which your feet also draw daily on."

Then came a tear-stained postscript in pencil dated from Paddington
Station on that very morning.

"I journeyed to London to see you, Geoffrey. I could not die without
looking on your face once more. I was in the gallery of the House and
heard your great speech. Your friend found me a place. Afterwards I
touched your coat as you passed by the pillar of the gateway. Then I ran
away because I saw your friend turn and look at me. I shall kiss this
letter--just here before I close it--kiss it there too--it is our last
cold embrace. Before the end I shall put on the ring you gave me--on my
hand, I mean. I have always worn it upon my breast. When I touched you
as you passed through the gateway I thought that I should have broken
down and called to you--but I found strength not to do so. My heart is
breaking and my eyes are blind with tears; I can write no more; I
have no more to say. Now once again good-bye. _Ave atque vale_--oh, my
love!--B."

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