is gift of merriment, now
that he had the Gift of Faith as well: and he shewed a great tenderness
too from time to time and a very Christian appreciation of his own
condition.

For example, he said that he was suffering very much, but he thanked God
for it and that he was able to bear it with patience, as indeed he did.

Two or three times however he seemed to sigh for death to come quickly;
and once he looked round with his old laughter at the solemn faces round
his bed, and begged their pardon that he was "such an unconscionable
time in dying." "My work in this world seems over," he said--"such as it
has been. I pray God I may be at a better occupation presently."

He thanked His Royal Highness the Duke of York (who was by his bed all
that night, weeping and kissing his hand repeatedly) for all his
attention and love for him, and asked his pardon for any hardship that
had been done to his brother, through his fault. He gave him his clothes
and his keys; telling him that all was now his; and that he prayed God
to give him a prosperous reign.

To Her Majesty who came to see him again about midnight, he shewed the
tenderest consideration and love: but the Queen, who swooned again and
again at the sight of him, and had to be carried back to her apartments,
sent him a message later begging his pardon for any offence that she had
ever done to him.

"What!" whispered the King. "What! She beg my pardon, poor woman! Rather
I beg hers with all my heart. Carry that message back to Her Majesty."

No less than twice did the King commend the Duchess of Portsmouth to the
Duke's care--poor "Fubbs" as he had called her to me. Some blamed him
for thinking of her at all at such a time; as also for bidding his
brother "not to let poor Nell starve"; but for myself I cannot
understand such blame at all. If ever there were two poor souls who
needed care and forgiveness it was those two women, Mrs. Nell and Her
Grace.

All his natural sons were there--all except the Duke of Monmouth whose
name never passed his lips from the beginning of his sickness to the
end--and these too he recommended to his brother--the three sons of the
Duchess of Cleveland, and the rest. I do not wonder that he left out His
Grace of Monmouth: it seems to me very near prophetical of what was to
fall presently, when the Duke was to revolt against his new Sovereign
and suffer the last penalty for it, at his hands. But His Majesty
blessed all the rest of his chil