ueen was thrown into a state of extreme indignation and displeasure
by this statement. She reproached the dying countess in the bitterest
terms, and shook her as she lay helpless in her bed, saying, "God may
forgive you if he pleases, but _I_ never will!" She then went away in a
rage.

Her exasperation, however, against the countess was soon succeeded by
bursts of inconsolable grief at the recollection of the hopeless and
irretrievable loss of the object of her affection whose image the ring
called back so forcibly to her mind. Her imagination wandered in
wretchedness and despair to the gloomy dungeon in the Tower where Essex
had been confined, and painted him pining there, day after day, in
dreadful suspense and anxiety, waiting for her to redeem the solemn
pledge by which she had bound herself in giving him the ring. All the
sorrow which she had felt at his untimely and cruel fate was awakened
afresh, and became more poignant than ever. She made them place cushions
for her upon the floor, in the most inner and secluded of her
apartments, and there she would lie all the day long, her hair
disheveled, her dress neglected, her food refused, and her mind a prey
to almost uninterrupted anguish and grief.

In January, 1603, she felt that she was drawing toward her end, and she
decided to be removed from Westminster to Richmond, because there was
there an arrangement of closets communicating with her chamber, in which
she could easily and conveniently attend divine service. She felt that
she had now done with the world, and all the relief and comfort which
she could find at all from the pressure of her distress was in that
sense of protection and safety which she experienced when in the
presence of God and listening to the exercises of devotion.

[Illustration: ELIZABETH IN HER LAST HOURS.]

It was a cold and stormy day in January when she went to Richmond; but,
being restless and ill at ease, she would not be deterred by that
circumstance from making the journey. She became worse after this
removal. She made them put cushions again for her upon the floor, and
she would lie upon them all the day, refusing to go to her bed. There
was a communication from her chamber to closets connected with a chapel,
where she had been accustomed to sit and hear divine service. These
closets were of the form of small galleries, where the queen and her
immediate attendants could sit. There was one open and public;
another--a smaller one--