Dr. Tenison obeyed, and with a heavy heart. Her gentle patience made his duty the harder. Dr. Radcliffe had just told him that since she now seemed tranquil and in full consciousness he might tell her of her approaching end. The Bishop, a good heavy man, set about his task with pain and tenderness. "Your Majesty will forgive me plain speaking, but I am entrusted by the King——" She lay with her face towards him, and her brown eyes narrowed. He hesitated, fearing to greatly agitate her, and sought for a form of words in which to cast his speech. "I am greatly grieved to see that Your Majesty is no better," he said. "Your consolation will come from heaven, not earth." She instantly perceived his drift. "You are come to tell me that I am dying?" she asked faintly. He was startled that she had so instantly understood, and could not, for the moment, speak. "I thank my God," continued the Queen, "that I have had this in my thoughts from the first. And there is nothing to be done. Search for a little escritoire in my cabinet and give it to the King. That is the end of earthly matters." She closed her eyes and gave a little sigh. "Will it please Your Majesty receive the Sacrament?" asked the Archbishop. "Yes," she said at once. "Yes." He left her, and she turned her head languidly and gazed before her at the window. Lady Temple came forward lovingly, and looked down at her with sorrowful eyes. "Before you light the candles," whispered Mary, "will you draw the curtains a little that I may see the sky?" Lady Portland crossed the floor delicately and pulled back the heavy gold thread and scarlet damask from the December twilight. A pale glow of colourless light fell across the glittering bed, the wan face of the Queen, and the motionless kneeling figure of her husband. She could see loose grey clouds, an indistinct trail of yellow fire low behind the leafless trees which tossed slowly in a feeble wind. She gave another little sigh and again closed her eyes. Lady Portland, weeping, drew the curtains. Basilea de Marsac and Madame de Nienhuys lit the candles on the mantelshelf, on the table between the windows, and the crystal lamp ornamented with the rose, the shamrock, and thistle in silver that hung from the centre of the ceiling. The Queen lay still all this while; she did not speak till Dr. Tenison approached her bed again, and all the prelates in the chamber went on their knees. "I doubt if I can swallow the bread," she murmured anxiously. The bishops in the room took the Sacrament with her; they were all heavy with grief, and the Primate faltered in his ministrations, but she was utterly calm; she followed the holy office clearly with no hesitation. Despite her fears, she swallowed the bread without difficulty, and thanked Dr. Tenison sweetly when he had done, and lay for awhile, praying it seemed. She was so resigned that it seemed she rather desired to die than live.