'Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness, and cleanse me from my sin....' And so on, the words of penitence, grief and supplication in those clear young tones rising from the slight, black-robed figure and mingling with the louder, harsher sounds of woe and death, went to our hearts and reached more surely still the heart of Him Who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities, and without Whom not even a sparrow can fall to the ground. When she had repeated the whole Psalm, Lady Jane arose, and turning to Mistress Ellen and me, gave us her gloves and handkerchief, and Sir Thomas Brydges asking for some token, she bestowed upon him her prayer-book, having first written in it a few lines, at his request. These were, as nearly as I can remember them--for she showed them to me, thinking no doubt that they would comfort me, who could scarcely see them for my tears-- 'Forasmuch as you have desired so simple a woman to write in so worthy a book, good Master Lieutenant, therefore I shall as a friend desire you, and as a Christian request you, to call upon God to incline your heart to His laws, to quicken you in His way, and not to take the Word of Truth entirely out of your mouth. Live still to die, that by death you may purchase Eternal Life. All have to die. If you were to live as long as Methuselah, yet a time would come when you had to die. As the Preacher saith, "There is a time to be born and a time to die, and the day of our death is better than the day of our birth." 'Yours, as the Lord knows, as a friend, 'JANE DUDLEY.' And now, with hands that trembled a little, she attempted to undo the fastenings of her heavy black dress, and perceiving that she bungled over it, the executioner offered to assist her, but she turned immediately to us her gentlewomen, upon which we took off her dress, and gave her a handkerchief to bind over her eyes. She did this herself, and then the executioner, kneeling before her, asked her for pardon, which she gave him most willingly. 'I pray you dispatch me quickly,' she added. 'Yes, madam.' 'Will you take it off before I lie down?' she asked, pointing to the handkerchief. 'No, madam.' She began to feel for the block, asking, 'Where is it?' Some one guided her to it, and saying, 'Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit,' she laid down her head, which at one stroke was severed from her body. * * * * * 'All is over!' I cried miserably, as I recovered from another illness, to find myself being tended by Mistress Ellen, in a poor lodging in Fleet Street. 'There is nothing left--_nothing_!' 'There is God,' said my companion. It was the first time I had ever heard her speak of Him, or indeed of religion, for she always averred that to _do_ is better than to talk; therefore her three words now made all the more impression. 'He has taken my dear lady,' sobbed I rebelliously.