"A token—no words can these weak fingers trace. Yet stay; in the missal there is a prayer which each day I addressed to heaven to preserve my son. Bear the missal to my Elizabeth, bid her listen to you, and believe."
With trembling hands the young girl took the small, but splendid volume. The queen then dismissed her with a faintly spoken blessing and a prayer. Before night all was over—the cause of her son moved her no more—her sorrowing heart reposed from every strife—she died. The vase replete with so much anguish was broken—the "silver cord," that bound together a whole life of pain, loosened. Her existence had been woe; her death was the dearest blessing she could receive from heaven.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE TOKEN
She was most beautiful to see,
Like a lady of a far countree.
COLERIDGE.
While in attendance on the king at his palace of Shene, the lord chamberlain, Sir William Stanley, was informed that a young and foreign lady requested an audience with him. Monina was ushered in—her extraordinary beauty—her large soft eyes—the fascinating sweetness of her manner, at once charmed the worthy gentleman. She spoke in good but accentuated English, and informed Sir William that she came from the death-bed of the queen of England.
"I know," said Stanley, "that her grace has long been ill, but ——"
"God take her to his mercy," interrupted Monina, "she died last night."
"Is his majesty informed of this event?" Sir William asked.