"Tell me," he said, "what to do—what you would have me do——" The Queen tried to answer; but speech was beyond her power; and when she found that she could no more speak to him, for the might of death on her tongue, two tears rolled down her hollow cheeks, and, by the size of them, it was seen that she was dying indeed, for they were large as the grey pearls in her ears. "Give me one word," said the King, and he bent low over her. She made a second attempt, but in vain. A long shudder shook her, blood came to her lips, and the tears on her face rolled off on to the pillow. "She cannot speak!" exclaimed the King; he fell along the bed and laid his face against her hand. Sunderland touched him. He gave a sighing sob like a woman, and fainted. My Lord Leeds helped lift and carry him to the back of the chamber; the others remained about the Queen, who was sinking so rapidly that they feared she would go before the King recovered his senses. She put up her hands in the attitude of praying, then dropped them and turned her head about on the pillow as if she looked for the King; not seeing him, she moaned and fell into a little swoon, breathing heavily. The watchers held painful vigil thus for near an hour, when she opened her eyes suddenly and began to speak, in a distinct though low voice; but the words she used showed that her thoughts began to break. "We have such a short time," she said, "what can any of us do?—I hope this will show you cannot expose yourself with impunity—I shall give God thanks as long as I live for having preserved you—think of me a little and be more careful—Lord Nottingham saw my tears, I could not restrain—my father, my father, there is such a great light here, like the sun at Twickenham, no, The Hague—a letter at last—he loves, after all——" She moved and half sat up; the lace had fallen from her head, and her hair hung in a dark mass over her shoulders; an extraordinary look of ecstasy overspread her wan face. "Give me the child," she whispered, and held out her arms; then she coughed a little and dropped back. A slight convulsion shook her; her breath clove her lips apart, and her lids fluttered over her eyes. The clergymen were on their knees reading the prayer for the dying. As they finished, Dr. Radcliffe put out the candle, on the table by the bed, that shone over the Queen’s face. "It is over," he said; "Her Majesty is dead." The Palace clock struck the four quarters, and then the hour of one. The King opened his eyes and looked about him on the hushed kneeling figures. Portland endeavoured to restrain him, but he rose from the couch and moved slowly and languidly towards the bed. No one dared speak or move.