ul voice beside me; and mine hand
clasped _Robin Lewthwaite's_.

"When was it, _Robin_?"

"Two hours gone," he saith, mournfully.

"_Robin_," I could not help whispering, "said she aught comfortable at
the last?"

"She never spake at all for the last six hours," he made answer. "But
the last word she did say was--the publican's prayer, _Milly_."

"Then there is hope!" I thought, but I said it not to _Robin_.

So we came home and told the sorrowful tidings.

SELWICK HALL, FEBRUARY YE XXV.
I was out in the garden this morrow, picking of snowdrops to lay round
_Blanche's_ coffin. My back was to the gate, when all suddenly I heard
Dr _Bell's_ voice say--"_Milisent_, is that thou?"

I rose up and ran to the gate, where he sat on his horse.

"Well, _Milly_," saith he, "the shutters are up at _Mere Lea_."

"Ay, we know it, Doctor," said I, sadly.

"Poor maid!" saith he. "A life flung away! And it might have been so
different!"

I said nought, for the tears burned under mine eyelids, and there was a
lump in my throat that let me from speech.

"I would thou wouldst say, _Milly_," goeth on Dr _Bell_, "to my Lady
and Mistress _Joyce_, that daft _Madge_ (as methinks) shall not pass the
day, and she hath a rare fantasy to see Mistress _Joyce_ once more. See
if it may be compassed. Good morrow."

I went in forthwith and sought Aunt _Joyce_, which spake no word, but
went that instant moment and tied on her hood and cloak: and so did I
mine.

'Twas nigh ten o' the clock when we reached old _Madge's_ hut.

We found daft _Madge_ in her bed, and seemingly asleep. But old _Madge_
said 'twas rather a kind of heaviness, whence she would rouse if any
spake to her.

Aunt _Joyce_ leaned over her and kissed her brow.

"Eh, 'tis Mistress _Joyce_!" saith _Madge_, feebly, as she oped her
eyes. "That's good. He's let me have _all_ I wanted."

"Art comfortable, _Madge_?"

"Close to th' gate. I'm lookin' to see 't open and _Mother_ come out.
Willn't she be pleased?"

Aunt _Joyce_ wiped her eyes, but said nought.

"Say yon again, Mistress _Joyce_," saith _Madge_.

"What, my dear heart?"

"Why, _you_," saith _Madge_. "Over seeing th' King. Dinna ye ken?"

"Eh, Mistress _Joyce_, but ye ha' set her up some wi' that," saith old
_Madge_. "She's talked o' nought else sin', scarce."

Aunt _Joyce_ said it once more. "`Thine eyes shall see the King in His
beauty: they sha