tions, continued, "It is the Queen's last request, sire, that she may see the Countess von Brunnersdorf, the lady who had the charge of her education; she intreats your Majesty that a messenger may be immediately despatched to the court of X-, with this request to the Duke, her father, and to the Countess, herselfimmediately; for I must inform you, sire; otherwise, it will be too late. Send now or never."

The King, who had certainly not contemplated the immediate danger of the Queen's illness, although he well knew the real nature of the disease, became, at these grave words of the aged man before him, frightfully excited. He knew well the loss which the death of that sweet and gentle being would entail upon his popularity; and now, when it was no longer of any avail, would have granted all and every wish his unfortunate victim might express.

In great agitation, he gave orders that couriers should be instantly despatched to X-, to

bring me, without an hour's delay, to Swhich was accordingly done; and I, as it may be supposed, started at once, on the receipt of the urgent missive which was put into my hands. I was at Brunnersdorf the day I received the summons, occupied in arranging some business-matters of my son—whose long silence had begun to make me feel not a little anxious. I thought at first the dispatch was from him, but on opening it, I found it contained but these words, in King Peter's own handwriting, "Come without delay, if you would see Thekla alive." You may imagine I lost not a moment in obeying the summons. Without waiting to change my dress, leaving servants to follow with my necessary baggage, without even communicating with the Duke or Fedora-like one in a dream-I stepped into the carriage that had brought the courier to Brunnersdorf; and attended by him only, travelling day and night: without a single pause for

rest or refreshment, I rushed to the presence of the daughter of my affections-hardly daring to ask myself on what errand I was proceeding, and in what condition I might find her. Miserable journey, well, ah ! too well, do I remember it!

VOL. II.

N

CHAPTER IX.

Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night?

The Watchman saith, The morning cometh.

ISAIAH xxi. 11, 12.

THEKLA's last hour rapidly approached; reduced to a state of utter prostration, it was evident to all around her that the unhappy Queen could not withstand the inroads of disease much longer. The morning of her death she had

revived, and appeared more cheerful than she

had felt for some time past.

She requested to

be dressed and laid upon a sofa commanding

Whilst

her favourite view of the restless ocean. inhaling the pure, mild air of a summer's morning, she suddenly asked for Miss Temple; to whom she spoke for some little time, but in whispered accents. She told her that she -wished much to have seen me before she became too ill to speak coherently. She desired her father and sister should know that she was resigned to the will of God; that she had long ceased to look for happiness in this life. She begged them to bear in mind that she forgave her hus band and all the wicked counsellors who had assisted to work her destruction. Without naming Melusina, she said there were some, now prosperous, whose end would be bitterness of spirit; she prayed for their repentance ere it was too late.

Her speech was fast becoming inarticulate, her breath growing short; Miss Temple drew