hings God made, even the very beasts that perish, since they, too,
suffer as all do? Have I left aught undone? Oh, sister, I have so
prayed that I left naught. Even though I could not believe that there
was One who, ruling all, could yet be pitiless as He is to some, I have
prayed That--which sure it seems must be, though we comprehend it not--to
teach me faith in something greater than my poor self, and not of earth.
Say this to Christ's self when you are face to face--say this to Him, I
pray you! Anne, Anne, look not so strangely through the window at the
blueness of the sky, sweet soul, but look at me."

For Anne lay upon her pillow so smiling that 'twas a strange thing to
behold. It seemed as she were smiling at the whiteness of the doves
against the blue. A moment her sister stood up watching her, and then
she stirred, meaning to go to call one of the servants waiting outside;
but though she moved not her gaze from the tower window, Mistress Anne
faintly spoke.

"Nay--stay," she breathed. "I go--softly--stay."

Clorinda fell upon her knees again and bent her lips close to her ear.
This was death, and yet she feared it not--this was the passing of a
soul, and while it went it seemed so fair and loving a thing that she
could ask it her last question--her greatest--knowing it was so near to
God that its answer must be rest.

"Anne, Anne," she whispered, "must he know--my Gerald? Must I--must I
tell him all? If so I must, I will--upon my knees."

The doves came flying downward from the blue, and lighted on the window
stone and cooed--Anne's answer was as low as her soft breath and her
still eyes were filled with joy at that she saw but which another could
not.

"Nay," she breathed. "Tell him not. What need? Wait, and let God tell
him--who understands."

Then did her soft breath stop, and she lay still, her eyes yet open and
smiling at the blossoms, and the doves who sate upon the window-ledge and
lowly cooed and cooed.

* * * * *

'Twas her duchess sister who clad her for her last sleeping, and made her
chamber fair--the hand of no other touched her; and while 'twas done the
tower chamber was full of the golden sunshine, and the doves ceased not
to flutter about the window, and coo as if they spoke lovingly to each
other of what lay within the room.

Then the children came to look, their arms full of blossoms and flowering
sprays. They had been told only fair things of death, and knowing but
t