uncle, Master George Gifford.

The letter was begun on the seventeenth of October, and finished a few days
later, and was as follows:--

* * * * *

'After the last news that I have sent you, dear sister, it will not be a
surprise to you to learn that our watching is at an end. The brave heart
ceased to beat at two of the clock on this seventeenth of October in the
afternoon.

'It has been a wondrous scene for those who have been near at hand to see
and hear all that has passed in the upper chamber of Madame Gruithuissens'
house.

'I account it a privilege of which I am undeserving, that I was suffered,
in ever so small a way, to do aught for his comfort by rendering help to
Madame Gruithuissens in the making of messes to tempt the sick man to eat,
and also by doing what lay in my power to console those who have been
beside themselves with grief--his two brothers.

'What love they bore him! And how earnestly they desire to follow in his
steps I cannot say.

'Mr Robert was knighted after the battle which has cost England so dear,
and my uncle saith that when he went first to his brother's side with his
honour fresh upon him, Sir Philip smiled brightly, and said playfully,--

'"Good Sir Robert, we must see to it that we treat you with due respect
now," and then, turning to Mr Thomas, he said, "Nor shall your bravery be
forgot, Thomas, as soon as I am at Court again. I will e'en commend my
youngest brother to the Queen's Highness. So we will have three knights to
bear our father's name."

'At this time Sir Philip believed he should live, and, indeed, so did most
of those who from day to day watching his courage and never-failing
patience; the surgeon saying those were so greatly in his favour to further
his recovery. But from that morning when he himself discerned the signs of
approaching death, he made himself ready for that great change. Nay, Lucy,
methinks this readiness had been long before assured.

'My uncle returned again and again from the dying bed to weep, as he
recounted to me and my boy the holy and beautiful words Sir Philip spake.

'Of himself, only humbly; of all he did and wrote, as nothing in God's
sight. His prayers were such that my uncle has never heard the like, for
they seemed to call down the presence of God in the very midst of them.

'He was troubled somewhat lest his mind should fail him through grievous
wrack of pain of body, but that trouble was set at