13H.P. Blavatsky & M. Collins, editors - Lucifer Vol. III, No. 13 September, 1888

there was still the same light of innocence and sweetness about her, and much more dignity and queen-like majesty withal.

There she stood, in all the glory of her righteousness, calm and proud in the stately Hall, before her judges. She looked straight into the face of death and into the eyes of her unjust accusers, while they— they dared not lift their eyes to meet hers. . . .

And when the fatal word “ G U I L T Y ” fell from the lips of her chief judge and nearest kinsman, she only shuddered, and looked at him with silent terror. She was horrified, but not for herself. Neither fear nor despair did she feel at her own unhappy fate ; but great was her sorrow for the sinful and shameless deed perpetrated upon her !

She looked at her judge with wonder and mute enquiry in her beautiful face, and then she slowly lifted up her eyes and hands to Heaven, and simply said : “ Oh, Father! Oh, Creator! Thou who art the way, the truth, and the life! Thou knowest that I have not deserved this death ! ” Her head dropped on her bosom, and she was gone. But her mild protest remained as a curse on the heads of her condemners. . . .

What is this awful work going on meantime, between the White and the Bloody Towers ? I see ! It is the consummation of cruel injustice and unrepenting crime. . . . The executioner has to prepare his ominous block, to sharpen his blood-stained axe. . . .

Sharpen it well, my man ! Sharpen it on both sides, so that it may return and fall upon the heads of those more guilty of the deed than thou art— and rest on them for ever! Thou doest well to put an iron mask on thy bewildered face, not to be seen by thy victim, for even thou art ashamed to perpetrate the ghastly crime. . . .

There she is— the Queen, the sinless martyr! I saw her advance to the ignominious scaffold. I heard her speak her last few words, her saint-like pardon to her fo es; and I saw her calmly lay heryouthful guileless head upon the block. . . .

But when the axe was lifted above her childlike neck, I rushed to avert the blow with all the strength of my will— and saw no more............

One moment of profound unconsciousness, and there I was, half astounded as by a fall from the clouds. I found myself lying on the cold steps of the Wakefield Tower in front of the closed and silent Traitors’ Gate of the Bloody Tower, too, which, thanks to heaven, sheds no more blood.

My poor friend was moaning over me, holding my head, rubbing my hands, in sore distress, indeed ; and then I saw someone forcing on me a glass of water. I took it, and drank the cold water with the utmost pleasure. Then catching sight of this “ someone” I again grew bewildered, for the man looked as if he verily represented the last remnant of m y recent vision, or dream— as you like to call it.