'Father,--Although it pleases God to hasten my death by you, by whom my life should rather have been lengthened, yet I can yield God more hearty thanks for shortening my sad days than if all the world had been given into my possession, with life lengthened to my will.' And, after alluding to his grief on her account, the letter continued: 'Though perhaps to you it may seem woeful, to me there is nothing that can be more welcome than, from this vale of misery, to aspire to that Heavenly throne of all joys and pleasures with Christ our Saviour, in whose steadfast faith--if I may be allowed to say so--may the Lord still keep you, that at last we may meet in Heaven.' 'That will comfort him, I think,' said my dear lady, as she folded and put by the letter to await a favourable opportunity for sending it. 'And I mean what I say, Margery. There is no joy this world can give which would compensate for the loss of the Heavenly Home that I now feel to be so near. True, it is a painful gate that I have to pass through, but it will be short, and it leads straight Home.' Thus she talked, and I saw that to disturb her faith, with any chimerical schemes for escape from it would be cruel in the extreme; also I determined not to sadden her last earthly hours by my grief, for there would be all the years after she had gone in which to mourn, but to do my best to brighten her last short days. Kissing her hand, therefore, I said that she had greatly comforted me, which made her exceedingly glad. Then she arose, and wrote in Latin, with a pin, on the wall of her room some lines, which she translated thus-- Stand not secure who stand in mortal state; What's mine to-day shall next day be thy fate. And again-- If Heaven protect, hell's malice cannot wound; By Heaven deserted, peace can ne'er be found. These shadows passed, I hope for light. 'Yes, Margery,' she said, turning to me, 'in spite of all my faults, I have held to the road that leads above, and when the shadows are passed by, then I hope to see the glorious light.' 'If any one ever will see it, you will,' said I, again kissing her hand and looking with the deepest admiration into her sweet young face, which seemed to me to bear the seal of Heaven's own peace. CHAPTER XXV Some of Lady Jane's last Words I do not like to think of how the soul of my dear young mistress was harassed during those last few days by the visits and arguments of Queen Mary's chaplain, Dr. Feckenham. Mistress Ellen, who had been sent for to keep my dear lady company during my illness, and who remained with us until the end, and I sat, with our needlework, at one end of the apartment, whilst these conferences were going on. We did not hear all that was said, but only enough to show that, learned and clever as was Lady Jane's opponent, he was beaten over and over again by the wise and able manner in which she answered his arguments.