her concern. She perused her will, in which she had provided for them by
legacies: she ordered the inventory of her goods, clothes, and jewels
to be brought her: and she wrote down the names of those to whom she
bequeathed each particular: to some she distributed money with her own
hands; and she adapted the recompense to their different degrees of rank
and merit. She wrote also letters of recommendation for her servants to
the French king, and to her cousin the duke of Guise, whom she made the
chief executor of her testament. At her wonted time, she went to bed;
slept some hours; and, then rising, spent the rest of the night in
prayer. Having foreseen the difficulty of exercising the rites of her
religion, she had had the precaution to obtain a consecrated host from
the hands of Pope Pius; and she had reserved the use of it for this
last period of her life. By this expedient she supplied, as much as she
could, the want of a priest and confessor, who was refused her.[*]

* Jebb, vol. ii. p, 489.

Towards the morning, she dressed herself in a rich habit of silk and
velvet, the only one which she had reserved to herself. She told her
maids, that she would willingly have left them this dress, rather than
the plain garb which she wore the day before: but it was necessary for
her to appear at the ensuing solemnity in a decent habit.

Thomas Andrews, sheriff of the county, entered the room, and informed
her that the hour was come, and that he must attend her to the place
of execution. She replied, that she was ready; and bidding adieu to her
servants, she leaned on two of Sir Amias Paulet's guards, because of an
infirmity in her limbs; and she followed the sheriff with a serene
and composed countenance. In passing through a hall adjoining to her
chamber, she was met by the earls of Shrewsbury and Kent, Sir Amias
Paulet, Sir Drue Drury, and many other gentlemen of distinction. Here
she also found Sir Andrew Melvil, her steward, who flung himself on
his knees before her; and wringing his hands, cried aloud, "Ah, madam!
unhappy me! what man was ever before the messenger of such heavy tidings
as I must carry, when I shall return to my native country, and shall
report, that I saw my gracious queen and mistress beheaded in England?"
His tears prevented further speech; and Mary too felt herself moved,
more from sympathy than affliction. "Cease, my good servant," said she,
"cease to lament: thou hast cause rather to rejoice th