"I had sung but one verse when her crying ceased; and ere I had sung two, she saith with a deep sigh, `Ay Jesus!' and lay quiet. Then, when I paused, she said, `Is it Dona Ines?'--`Speak to her,' quoth my Lord Marquis. `Senora,' I answered, `I am your Highness' servant Ines, that kisseth your feet.'--`Come hither to me,' the Queen said. `Child, God hath looked on long in silence, but He is come at last.' My Lord of Denia made me a sign to pass within the screen. There lay she, her snow-white hair scattered over the pillow; her ladies standing or kneeling around the bed. `It is over!' she said, speaking slowly, and with pauses. `I shall suffer no longer. I shall go to God.'--`Senora,' quoth my Lord Marquis, `I entreat your Highness to be silent. You have received His Majesty, and cannot be allowed to soil your soul by evil words, when Christ is within you.'--`Ye forced me, did ye?' she answered, a quick flash of anger breaking the calm of her face. `Ah! well, God knoweth. _I_ did it not. God knoweth. And God will receive me. He witteth what I have been, and what ye.' She lay silent a season; and then, slowly, as if it pained her, she drew her hands together, and folded them as if she prayed, Fray Domingo began a Latin prayer. `Silence!' saith the Queen, royally. And for this once--the last time--her gaolers obeyed her. She fetched a long weary sigh, and laid her hands one over the other on her breast. Then, in low, calm, quiet tones, her last words were spoken. `Father, into Thine hands I commit my spirit. Jesus Christ, the Crucified, be with me! I thank God that my life is over.' It was over, only a few minutes later. And I think He was with her through the valley of the shadow of death." [Note 2.] "Isoult," said Annis, as she ended her woeful story, "thinkest thou this were martyrdom--this daily dying for six and twenty years? Was it any less, borne for our Lord's love, than any of His martyrs? They that are burned or beheaded, they do but suffer once, and then no more. It must be easier, methinks, than to die piecemeal, as she did. And she knew so little! Isoult, dost thou think Christ will count her in the number of His martyrs?" "It soundeth very like, Annis," she answered. "I do not fancy," said John, "that the Lord is so ill off for martyrs' crowns that He will have none to spare for her." "Well!" responded Dr Thorpe. "It should be no great wonder if they were used up, seeing how many must have been fetched within the last two years." "I could believe any thing of Don Carlos," answered Marguerite Rose. "He that so ill used his aunt, that had been a mother unto him, the Lady Marguerite of Savoy, that was Governess of Flanders,--he should not have much love for his own mother." And Thekla said,--"I think the crown of the Queen Dona Juana must have been a very bright one. It is so hard to watch and wait." "My poor Thekla!" murmured Isoult, "thou hast had much thereof."