weigh thee," she said; "and that which His own hand created will
He separate from that which was thine own wilful wrong--and this, sure,
He will teach thee how to expiate."

"Clo," he cried again--"thy mother--she was but a girl, and died alone--I
did no justice to her!--Daphne! Daphne!" And he shook beneath the bed-
clothes, shuddering to his feet, his face growing more grey and pinched.

"She loved thee once," Clorinda said. "She was a gentle soul, and would
not forget. She will show thee mercy."

"Birth she went through," he muttered, "and death--alone. Birth and
death! Daphne, my girl--" And his voice trailed off to nothingness, and
he lay staring at space, and panting.

The duchess sat by him and held his hand. She moved not, though at last
he seemed to fall asleep. Two hours later he began to stir. He turned
his head slowly upon his pillows until his gaze rested upon her, as she
sat fronting him. 'Twas as though he had awakened to look at her.

"Clo!" he cried, and though his voice was but a whisper, there was both
wonder and wild question in it--"Clo!"

But she moved not, her great eyes meeting his with steady gaze; and even
as they so looked at each other his body stretched itself, his lids
fell--and he was a dead man.

CHAPTER XXIV--The doves sate upon the window-ledge and lowly cooed and
cooed

When they had had ten years of happiness, Anne died. 'Twas of no violent
illness, it seemed but that through these years of joy she had been
gradually losing life. She had grown thinner and whiter, and her soft
eyes bigger and more prayerful. 'Twas in the summer, and they were at
Camylott, when one sweet day she came from the flower-garden with her
hands full of roses, and sitting down by her sister in her morning-room,
swooned away, scattering her blossoms on her lap and at her feet.

When she came back to consciousness she looked up at the duchess with a
strange, far look, as if her soul had wandered back from some great
distance.

"Let me be borne to bed, sister," she said. "I would lie still. I shall
not get up again."

The look in her face was so unearthly and a thing so full of mystery,
that her Grace's heart stood still, for in some strange way she knew the
end had come.

They bore her to her tower and laid her in her bed, when she looked once
round the room and then at her sister.

"'Tis a fair, peaceful room," she said. "And the prayers I have prayed
in it have been answ