unto the gifts he had already made unto our house and shrine. Yet, natheless, did our superior say, if Master Blount did still persist in his first intent of bestowing aught at Dartford, it should be carried thither for him; if not by the prior in person, yet by some safe and speedy messenger: for, that although the goldsmith had once vowed to go thither himself, yet might he be absolved therefrom by reason of his infirmity, upon sending his offering and journeying thither in spirit.

This courteous offer was gladly received by the goldsmith, and this course being concluded on, he departed from Walsingham well satisfied at having performed both his vows and offerings with such easy labour. Howbeit, some weeks passed away, ere we received Master Blount's waxen taper and other gifts for the Dartford nuns; but then did it become matter of debate in the chapter as to the messengers who should be sent with the same: and it was at last resolved that they should be intrusted unto Father George Gisborough, some time sub-prior of our house, and myself. He, I do hope and believe, is now with God; albeit he died by the late King Henry's command, as did many other pious men, for not acknowledging his supremacy over the church, and not consenting to surrender unto him our abbey and monastery.

For mine own part, albeit there was much honour in the appointment of my brethren, and I scrupled not to go forth at their call, long and toilsome as the journey might be, yet was it not an employ which I did at all covet. For, beside that I felt no desire to look again upon the world,

I knew that I could not travel through London without the painfullest memory of the days that were gone, and of my former dreams of love and the Lady Bride; the which, though now resigned for ever, were, nevertheless, still much too dear unto me. Howbeit, I addressed me to the journey, but all this did I feel in travelling into Kent through Southwark, as I saw the distant towers of Bermondsey Abbey, and bethought me of our last strange and fatal interview therein, with all the chances which had since followed. Yet, notwithstanding these most sad remembrances, I paused not, but with my companions kept forward unto Dartford with all the speed we might; and, within seven days, we arrived at that most fair convent of Austin-nuns, which the piety of the third King Edward of England founded and dedicated unto the holy Saints Mary and Magaret, It was now, as I do full well remember, the eve of the Feast of St. Martin, Tuesday, the 10th day of November, about the hour of Nones, and one of the fairest and brightest days which the departing year could show, being like its last smile cast upon the coming winter, or the glad tranquillity of a saint looking upon approaching death.

I was much rejoiced, at thus seeing our long and wearisome journey of nearly 130 miles, brought unto its conclusion; and I may not conceal that I also felt somewhat of worldly pride and pleasure, in looking forward unto the honourable welcome we should receive, from being the bearers of such costly gifts and good tidings unto the convent. But when we declared our names and mission unto an ancient nun at the gate, and thereupon desired to see the lady prioress, I felt

both anger and amaze at finding none such joyous greeting as I had looked to meet; for sad and solemn were the countenances of all whom I be held, and brief and gloomy were their answers unto our gladsome salutations. Howbeit, full soon were we told that the prioress of that house, who was much beloved and reverenced of all for her gentleness, piety, many virtues, and various excellent gifts, was even then lying sick unto death; having for a long space languished under a wasting fever, which was now known to be mortal, her last hour being near at hand. I ween that these were in sooth melancholy tidings, yet did I know well that much of the body's sorrows might be cured, by cheering and giving joy unto the heart; and thereupon I did entreat, that the lady prioress should forthwith be told of the costly gifts sent unto her house, by the hands of the sub-prior of Walsingham and brother Richardus of Ely; and in this would I not be gainsaid, because of the great good which I looked to rise therefrom, though some doubted whether it might not be altogether too much for her weakened frame. But presently it was shown that I had not erred in this counsel; for the formaria, or over-seeing nun, who had told her thereof, came suddenly back, and said that, upon hearing our mission, her dim and closing eyes. became suddenly opened and lighted up. She gave unto us great thanks for coming in such happy time to shed comfort upon her parting hours; and she added that, as we were of the same order as her own convent, she would now make her confession, desiring that one of us should forthwith attend her to receive it, and

entreating all our prayers for her safe passage, in that most solemn change which she well knew was now close at hand.

The aged sub-prior,my companion,did hereupon request and direct me to take the confession of the lady prioress, adding that he would remain to see the gifts safely bestowed in the convent-sacristy; and I therefore followed the weeping nun with much solemnity and sorrow. And now did I feel all mine own spiritual weakness and unworthiness, and lamented, with unfeigned humility, that my learning and piety were no greater, and that my former life had not better fitted me for the duty which I was now about to perform; of aiding, by my ghostly counsel, one renowned for her holiness, in the very moment when she was called unto her everlasting home.

On passing into her presence, I beheld her resting back upon a little couch, for so great were the pains of her disease, that for many days she had been unable to lie down thereon: yet distressed with pain, as in truth she was, she uttered no voice of complaint, so that there was a death-like stillness in the chamber, and I drew in my breath from reverence. The light of that fair day, too, was also shaded therein with a fitting gloom, so that I might not at first see the pale cheek and heavenly look of the dying sufferer; but on advancing unto her more closely,-Saints and Angels!-I saw that she was the LADY BRIDE PLANTAGENET !

VOL. II.-O

CHAPTER X.

A SCENE OF PARTING IN THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.

Yet do I live? Oh! how shall I sustain
This vast unutterable weight of wo?
This worse than hunger, poverty, or pain,
Or all the complicated ills below;

She, in whose life my hopes were treasured all

Is gone!-for ever fled !

These eyes, these tear-swoln eyes, beheld her fall!

Ah, no!-she lives on some far-happier shore,

She lives, but, cruel thought, she lives for me no more!

How shall I ere forget that dreadful hour,
When feeling death's resistless power,

My hand she press'd wet with her falling tears,
And thus in faltering accents spake her fears!
SHAW'S MONODY.

OH Memory!-Memory!--I ween that I have full little cause to summon thine aid, to depict the scene which was now about to open unto me; for so deeply, yea, so indelibly, are all the events of that most sad hour impressed upon my soul, that they can never be absent from me whilst breath and sense be left unto my mortal frame!

-And if aught of earthly affection or sorrow can call forth the tear of human compassion; or if there be indeed a chord in the breasts of others which, like-tuned unto that within mine own, will respond unto the like touch,-then may my feel