Browne was peering at the western sky, shading his eyes with both hands. "I see something," he muttered, "right under the sun, a bright speck, like a planet. Is that the _Golden Hind_?" "Ulster is coming," my Lord shivered. "He will come here demanding audience." Then, looking up from where he crouched at her feet, "My Lady," he said in a very soft low voice, his lips tremulous, his eyes full of yearning love; "perhaps this is the last favour I may ever ask--to see the Queen alone." "Trooper Browne," said our Lady, huskily, "as I'm a woman I ought to be ready to receive the Duke when he comes. Please, will you go and gather some of the very dark roses that are nearly black--and bring them to me here." "Margaret,"--my Lord's eyes watched his friend going away in search of dark roses. "I shall go with Ulster presently. For me this is the end." "We shall not live, dear Sydney," answered the Queen. "We shall not have to bear the pain for ever, and Death is merciful." "Then let the words come, Margaret, since nothing matters any more. Before I go out to meet this death, I love you. Oh, most royal woman that ever lived, I came to serve in the Palace knowing that because I dared to love the Queen, I must never know peace of mind again--except such peace--you say that I was with you this morning?" "At the Communion Table, yes." "Was I beside you, Margaret?" "Yes." "Did you see me lift my hands to take the Elements?" "They were covered with blood." "At that moment I knelt by Gloucester, and my hands were wet with blood trying to tie an artery. I lifted my hands and you were beside me, Margaret! Margaret, I have been at peace knowing well that to-day I must take my father's life." "Oh, my dear brother! my brother Sydney! The only brother I have known." Bending down she took his face within her hands and kissed him upon the forehead. Then looking steadfastly into her eyes. "I see," he whispered, awestruck, "the Queen seated on the throne--the old throne in the Abbey, and Brand is standing on the steps of the throne. So be it." And laying his head upon her knees he cried, our Lady giving him ease with a touch of her fingers. * * * * * The Queen had granted audience to Ulster. In her face there was peace as of one dead, about her shoulders and in her hair she wore long, thorny, sprays of the dark roses whose petals were like a sacramental wine. She neither moved nor spoke, and silent on her right hand, and her left, stood the two Guardsmen, their hands resting on the hilts of their drawn swords in readiness. The Dictator was greatly changed, grown very old, his flesh wasted, his eyes burning as though with fever. Behind him the sun was setting, the lake was red, and over his face the shadows of night were deepening.