cry, and as a lane was opened for him,
struggled onwards. In poor Margaret's case the etiquette that banished
the nearest kin from Royalty in articulo mortis was not much to be
regretted. David saw her--white, save for the death-flush called up by
the labouring breath, as she lay upheld in his mother's arms, a priest
holding a crucifix before her, a few ladies kneeling by the bed.

'Good tidings, I see, my son,' said Lady Drummond.

'Are--they--here?' gasped Margaret.

'Alack, not yet, Madame; they will come in a few days' time.' She gave a
piteous sigh, and David could not hear her words.

'Tell her how and where you found them,' said his mother.

David told his story briefly. There was little but a quivering of the
heavy eyelids and a clasping of the hands to show whether the dying
woman marked him, but when he had finished, she said, so low that only
his mother heard, 'Safe! Thank God! Nunc dimittis. Who was it--young
Angus?'

'Even so,' said David, when the question had been repeated to him by his
mother.

'So best!' sighed Margaret. 'Bid the good father give thanks.'

Dame Lilias dismissed her son with a sign. Margaret lay far more serene.
For a few minutes there was a sort of hope that the good news might
inspire fresh life, and yet, after the revelation of what her condition
was in this strange, frivolous, hard-hearted Court, how could life be
desired for her weary spirit? She did not seem to wish--far less to
struggle to wish--to live to see them again; perhaps there was an
instinctive feeling that, in her weariness, there was no power of
rousing herself, and she would rather sink undisturbed than hear of the
terror and suffering that she knew but too well her husband had caused.

Only, when it was very near the last, she said, 'Safe! safe in leal
hands. Oh, tell my Jeanie to be content with them--never seek earthly
crowns--ashes--ashes--Elleen--Jeanie--all of them--my love-oh! safe,
safe. Now, indeed, I can pardon--'

'Pardon!' said the French priest, catching the word. 'Whom, Madame, the
Sieur de Tillay?'

Even on the gasping lips there was a semi-smile. 'Tillay--I had
forgotten! Tillay, yes, and another.'

If no one else understood, Lady Drummond did, that the forgiveness was
for him who had caused the waste and blight of a life that might
have been so noble and so sweet, and who had treacherously prepared a
terrible fate for her young innocent sisters.

It was all ended now; there was no mor