But there are others which well may. Shall we tell them over?

No; let us leave her with her confessor, saying prayers maybe; her rings on her fingers; the lace upon her pillow; not forgetting certain fine coquetries to the last: strong-souled, keen-thoughted, ambitious, proud, vindictive, passionate woman, with her streaks of tenderness out of which bitter tears flowed—out of which kindlinesses crept to sun themselves, but were quick overshadowed by her pride.

Farewell to her!


In our next talk we shall meet a King—but a King who is less a man than this Queen who is dead.


FOOTNOTES

[1]

The breeze which swept away the smoke

Round Norham Castle rolled,