Chapter 32 - Page 2

strange stillness. The Tower itself rose
white and clear against the blue as though its battlements and fair
turrets might be part of the Eternal City. This strange fancy passed
through his Grace's mind as he rode towards it. The ivy hung thick
about the window of Anne's chamber in the South Tower. 'Twas a room she
loved and had spent long, peaceful days in, and had fitted as a little
shrine. Her lovingness had taught her to feed the doves from it, and
they had grown to be her friends and companions, and now a little cloud
of them flew about and lighted on the turrets and clung to the festoons
of ivy, and flew softly about as if they were drawn to the place by
some strange knowledge and waited for that which was to come to pass.
Two or three sate upon the deep window-ledge and cooed as if they told
those not so near what they could see inside the quiet room.

On the terrace below the elder children stood John and Gerald and
Daphne and Anne. They waited too, as the doves did, and their young
faces were lifted that they might watch the window, and they were very
sweet and gravely tender and unafraid and fair.

When their father drew near them 'twas the child Daphne who spoke,
putting her hand in his and meeting his eyes with a lovely look.

"Father," she said, "we think that Mother Anne lies dying in her room.
We are not afraid; mother has told us that to die is only as if a bird
was let to fly out into the blue sky. And mother is with her, and we
are waiting because we think--perhaps--we are not sure--but perhaps we
might see her soul fly out of the window like a white bird. It seems as
if the doves were waiting too."

My lord Duke kissed her and passed on.

"You may see it," he said, gently. "Who knows--and if you see it, sure
it will be white."

And he went quietly through the house and up the staircase leading to
Anne's tower-chamber, and the pretty apartment her Grace had prepared
for her so lovingly to spend quiet hours in when she would be alone.
This apartment led into the chamber, but now it was quite empty, for
the Duchess was with her sister, who lay on the bed in the room within,
where the ivy hung in festoons about the high window, which seemed to
look up into the blue sky itself and shut out all the earth below and
only look on Heaven.

To enter seemed like entering some sacred shrine where a pure saint
lay, and upon the threshold his Grace lingered, almost fearing to go
in and break upon the awful tenderness of this last hour, and the last
words he heard the loving creature murmuring, while the being she had
so worshipped knelt beside her.

"'Twas love," he heard, "'twas love. What matter if I gave my soul