She was in her chamber, with her son and daughter--the three were
together for the last time on earth. They had been talking of the
happy days when the husband and father was yet alive, before the
fatal day of Senlac. Alone with her children, she felt far more at
peace than usual; it seemed, she said, like the dear old times.

But this evening the presentiment of the coming end seemed strong
upon her, and she spoke to her darling boy of the duties which
would devolve upon him when she was gone, bidding him be obedient
and loyal to his Norman stepfather, that he might have the more
power to protect the poor oppressed people of Aescendune, and to
shield his dear sister from harm in a world of wrong and violence.
She bade him look forward to a better world, where parents and
children, separated by death, would meet together never to part,
and to live as a Christian man should, that he might not lose so
dear a hope. The sun was slowly sinking in the west, amidst
gorgeous clouds, and she gazed into the glowing depths, as if she
saw the gate of Paradise therein.

It was but a few moments, while they yet lingered in conversation,
that her children observed a deadly paleness, a strange gray hue,
come over her face; suddenly she extended her arms, and fell back
upon her couch.

Wilfred ran for help. Even the Norman servants loved their
mistress, and hurried to her chamber; baron, priest, all were
there; she lay as if insensible, but when Father Elphege, the
prior, arrived, and began the litany for the dying, she raised her
head and strove to follow.