ort it; and even on thy confession
and penitence the Church through me absolves thee. Pass to thy graver
faults."

"My graver faults? Alas! alas! Why, what have I done to compare? I am
not an ill woman, not a very ill one. If He can forgive me deceiving
thee, He can well forgive me all the rest ever I did."

Being gently pressed, she said she was to blame not to have done more
good in the world. "I have just begun to do a little," she said, "and
now I must go. But I repine not, since 'tis Heaven's will, only I am so
afeard thou wilt miss me." And at this she could not restrain her tears,
though she tried hard.

Gerard struggled with his as well as he could; and knowing her life of
piety, purity, and charity, and seeing that she could not in her
present state realise any sin but her having deceived him, gave her
full absolution, Then he put the crucifix in her hand, and while he
consecrated the oil, bade her fix her mind neither on her merits nor her
demerits, but on Him who died for her on the tree.

She obeyed him with a look of confiding love and submission.

And he touched her eyes with the consecrated oil, and prayed aloud
beside her.

Soon after she dosed.

He watched beside her, more dead than alive himself.

When the day broke she awoke, and seemed to acquire some energy. She
begged him to look in her box for her marriage lines and for a picture,
and bring them both to her. He did so. She then entreated him by all
they had suffered for each other, to ease her mind by making a solemn
vow to execute her dying requests.

He vowed to obey them to the letter.

"Then, Gerard, let no creature come here to lay me out. I could not bear
to be stared at; my very corpse would blush. Also I would not be made
a monster of for the worms to sneer at as well as feed on. Also my very
clothes are tainted, and shall to earth with me. I am a physician's
daughter; and ill becomes me kill folk, being dead, which did so little
good to men in the days of health; wherefore lap me in lead, the way I
am, and bury me deep! yet not so deep but what one day thou mayst find
the way, and lay thy bones by mine.

"Whiles I lived I went to Gouda but once or twice a week. It cost me not
to go each day. Let me gain this by dying, to be always at dear Gouda,
in the green kirkyard.

"Also they do say the spirit hovers where the body lies; I would have my
spirit hover near thee, and the kirkyard is not far from the manse. I am
so afeard