re buried, not honourably, not far off. One of Cromwell's daughters,
who was a Churchwoman and also a royalist, they allowed to remain in
the Abbey. She lies in one of the other chapels, over yonder.'

'Noble revenge!' said Betty quietly.

'Very proper,' said Mrs. Dallas. 'It seems hard, but it is proper.
People who rise up against their kings should be treated with
dishonour, both before and after death.'

'How about the kings who rise up against their people?' asked Betty.

She could not help the question, but she was glad that Mrs. Dallas did
not seem to hear it. They passed on, from one chapel to another, going
more rapidly; came to a pause again at the tomb of Mary, Queen of Scots.

'I am beginning to think,' said Betty, 'that the history of England is
one of the sorrowfullest things in the world. I wonder if all other
countries are as bad? Think of this woman's troublesome, miserable
life; and now, after Fotheringay, the honour in which she lies in this
temple is such a mockery! I suppose Elizabeth is here somewhere?'

'Over there, in the other aisle. And below, the two Tudor queens,
Elizabeth and Mary, lie in a vault together, alone. Personal rivalries,
personal jealousies, political hatred and religious enmity,--they are
all composed now; and all interests fade away before the one supreme,
eternal; they are gone where "the honour that cometh from God" is the
only honour left. Well for them if they have that! Here is the Countess
of Richmond, the mother of Henry VII. She was of kin or somehow
connected, it is said, with thirty royal personages; the grand-daughter
of Catharine of Valois, grandmother of Henry VIII., Elizabeth's
great-grandmother. She was, by all accounts, a noble old lady. Now all
that is left is these pitiful folded hands.'

Mrs. Dallas passed on, and they went from chapel to chapel, and from
tomb to tomb, with unflagging though transient interest. But for Betty,
by and by the brain and sense seemed to be oppressed and confused by
the multitude of objects, of names and stories and sympathies. The
novelty wore off, and a feeling of some weariness supervened; and
therewith the fortunes and fates of the great past fell more and more
into the background, and her own one little life-venture absorbed her
attention. Even when going round the chapel of Edward the Confessor and
viewing the grand old tombs of the magnates of history who are
remembered there, Betty was mostly concerned with her own his