had recovered a little, she was carried to a cab, and driven to her house in Baker Street.
Towards the evening she seemed better, and was glad to be back in her familiar surroundings again. She kept saying to her sister, "Thank God, I am at home again!" She had a haunting fear latterly at Eastbourne that she would not have the strength to come home. By this time it was of course known that she could not possibly recover, and the end would only be a question of a little time. But that evening no one thought that death was imminent. During the night, however, she grew worse.
The next morning (Passion Sunday, March 22) her sister saw a great change in her. She asked her what she wished, and Lady Burton answered, "It depends on you whether I receive the Last Sacraments." The priest was summoned at once, and administered Extreme Unction and the Holy Viaticum. She followed all the prayers, and was conscious to the last. When all was over, she bowed her head and whispered, "Thank God." A smile of peace and trusting came over her face, and with a faint sigh she breathed her last. She had heard the "tinkling of his camel's bell."
She was buried in the little cemetery at Mortlake one bright spring afternoon, when all Nature seemed waking from its winter sleep. She was laid to rest in the Arab tent by the side of him whom she had loved so dearly, there to sleep with the quiet dead until the great Resurrection Day. She was buried with all the rites of her Church. The coffin was taken down to Mort-
