eaves, and overarched by tender blueness with
white clouds softly floating therein, but this one, as he rode, he
thought held something in its beauty which seemed to make the earth
seem nearer Heaven and Heaven more fair to lifted mortal eyes. He
thought this as his horse bore him over the white road, he thought it
as he rode across the moor, 'twas in his mind as he passed through the
village and saw the white cottages standing warm and peaceful in the
sunshine, with good wives at the doors or at their windows, and
children playing on the green, who stopped and bobbed courtesies to him
or pulled their forelocks, grinning.

Joan Bush was at her gate and stepped out and dipped a courtesy with
appealing civility.

"Your Grace," she said, "if I might make so bold--poor Mistress Anne--"
And having said so much checked herself in much confusion. "I lose my
wits," she said; "your Grace's pardon. Your Grace has been, to town and
but now comes back, and will not know. But we so love the kind
gentlewoman--" and she mopped her eyes.

"You mean that Mistress Anne is worse?" he said.

"The poor lady fell into a sudden strange swoon but an hour ago," she
answered. "My Matthew, who was at the Tower of an errand said she came
in from the flower-garden and sank lifeless. And the servants who
carried her to her chamber say 'twas like death. And she hath been so
long fading. And we know full well the end must come soon."

My lord Duke rode on. A fulness tightened his throat and he looked up
at the blue sky.

"Poor Anne! Kind Anne!" he said. "Pure heart! I could think 'twas for
the passing of her soul the day was made so fair."

At the park gates the woman from the lodge stood at her door and made
her obeisance tearfully. She was an honest soul to whom her Grace's
sister seemed a saint from Heaven.

"What is the last news?" said my lord Duke, speaking more from kindness
than aught else.

"That the dear lady lies in her bed in the Turret chamber and her Grace
watches with her alone. Oh, my lord Duke, God calls another angel to
Himself this day!"

The very air was still with a strange stillness. The Tower itself rose
white and clear against the blue as though its battlements and fair
turrets might be part of the Eternal City. This strange fancy passed
through his Grace's mind as he rode towards it. The ivy hung thick
about the window of Anne's chamber in the South Tower. 'Twas a room she
loved and had spent long, peaceful days i