There was that in this corner of the splendid room which turned faces
pale.

Osmonde slowly withdrew his hand, and turning to the kneeling woman--with
a pallor like that of marble, but with a noble tenderness and pity in his
eyes--

"My lady," he said, "you are a brave woman. Your great courage must
sustain you. The heart beats no more. A noble life is finished."

* * * * *

The guests heard, and drew still farther back, a woman or two faintly
whimpering; a hurrying lacquey parted the crowd, and so, way being made
for him, the physician came quickly forward.

Anne put her shaking hands up to cover her gaze. Osmonde stood still,
looking down. My Lady Dunstanwolde knelt by the couch and hid her
beautiful face upon the dead man's breast.




CHAPTER XII--Which treats of the obsequies of my Lord of Dunstanwolde, of
his lady's widowhood, and of her return to town


All that remained of my Lord Dunstanwolde was borne back to his ancestral
home, and there laid to rest in the ancient tomb in which his fathers
slept. Many came from town to pay him respect, and the Duke of Osmonde