THE FLORAL TELEGRAPH. 105 
said the least mended ; so, Sir Eus¬ 
tace, with my service to you, I hum¬ 
bly crave to take my leave . 1 And the 
newly made lord rode home to his 
father, and, within the month, made 
Cicely a lady. 
“ Old Sir Eustace lived just long 
enough to build for the slain lovers 
a costly marble monument in the 
adjacent church, and to see his hair 
grow suddenly white, from grief; 
and then he was laid in an hum¬ 
ble tomb, at the foot of the superb 
mausoleum that contained the ashes 
of his daughter and her lover. 
“ But, sir, do you see that spot 
where the Love-lies-bleeding is so 
