spoken blessing and a prayer. Before night all was over—the cause of her son moved her no more—her sorrowing heart reposed from every strife—she died. The vase replete with so much anguish was broken—the "silver cord," that bound together a whole life of pain, loosened. Her existence had been woe; her death was the dearest blessing she could receive from heaven.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE TOKEN.
She was most beautiful to see,
Like a lady of a far countree.
While in attendance on the king at his palace of Shene, the the lord chamberlain, Sir William Stanley, was informed that a young and foreign lady requested an audience with him. Monina was ushered in—her extraordinary beauty—her large soft eyes—the fascinating sweetness of her manner, at once charmed the worthy gentleman. She spoke in good but accentuated English, and informed Sir William that she came from the death-bed of the queen of England.
"I know," said Stanley, "that her grace has long been ill, but "
"God take her to his mercy," interrupted Monina, "she died last night."
"Is his majesty informed of this event?" Sir William asked.
"It is not yet noon," replied the maiden; "by that hour the messengers from the convent will arrive. I have reasons for greater speed. I bear the royal lady's last words to her daughter, the queen Elizabeth; you, my lord, will favour me by procuring an immediate interview with her majesty."
Stanley knew the aversion the king had to any private intercourse between Elizabeth and her mother. He informed his visitor that she must first obtain the king's permission for this audience, which he did not believe would be granted; but Monina, without hesitation, declared that she would apply for it to the king, and requested the chamberlain to introduce her.
