“And is that all—is that all?” replied Buckingham, impatiently.
“She likewise charged me to tell you that she still loved you.”
“Ah,” said Buckingham, “God be praised! My death, then, will not be to her as the death of a stranger!”
Laporte burst into tears.
“Patrick,” said the duke, “bring me the casket in which the diamond studs were kept.”
Patrick brought the object desired, which Laporte recognized as having belonged to the queen.
“Now the scent bag of white satin, on which her cipher is embroidered in pearls.”
Patrick again obeyed.
“Here, Laporte,” said Buckingham, “these are the only tokens I ever received from her—this silver casket and these two letters. You will restore them to her Majesty; and as a last memorial”—he looked round for some valuable object—“you will add—”
He still sought; but his eyes, darkened by death, encountered only the knife which had fallen from the hand of Felton, still smoking with the blood spread over its blade.