ered. To-day I saw my mother, and she told me so."

"Anne! Anne!" cried her Grace, leaning over her and gazing fearfully
into her face; for though her words sounded like delirium, her look had
no wildness in it. And yet--"Anne, Anne! you wander, love," the duchess
cried.

Anne smiled a strange, sweet smile. "Perchance I do," she said. "I know
not truly, but I am very happy. She said that all was over, and that I
had not done wrong. She had a fair, young face, with eyes that seemed to
have looked always at the stars of heaven. She said I had done no
wrong."

The duchess's face laid itself down upon the pillow, a river of clear
tears running down her cheeks.

"Wrong!" she said--"you! dear one--woman of Christ's heart, if ever lived
one. You were so weak and I so strong, and yet as I look back it seems
that all of good that made me worthy to be wife and mother I learned from
your simplicity."

Through the tower window and the ivy closing round it, the blueness of
the summer sky was heavenly fair; soft, and light white clouds floated
across the clearness of its sapphire. On this Anne's eyes were fixed
with an uplifted tenderness until she broke her silence.

"Soon I shall be away," she said. "Soon all will be left behind. And I
would tell you that my prayers were answered--and so, sure, yours will
be."

No man could tell what made the duchess then fall on her knees, but she
herself knew. 'Twas that she saw in the exalted dying face that turned
to hers concealing nothing more.

"Anne! Anne!" she cried. "Sister Anne! Mother Anne of my children! You
have known--you have known all the years and kept it hid!"

She dropped her queenly head and shielded the whiteness of her face in
the coverlid's folds.

"Ay, sister," Anne said, coming a little back to earth, "and from the
first. I found a letter near the sun-dial--I guessed--I loved you--and
could do naught else but guard you. Many a day have I watched within the
rose-garden--many a day--and night--God pardon me--and night. When I
knew a letter was hid, 'twas my wont to linger near, knowing that my
presence would keep others away. And when you approached--or he--I
slipped aside and waited beyond the rose hedge--that if I heard a step, I
might make some sound of warning. Sister, I was your sentinel, and being
so, knelt while on my guard, and prayed."

"My sentinel!" Clorinda cried. "And knowing all, you so guarded me night
and day, and prayed Go