"Now that dear William's last call has come, I feel thankful for
his sake. The good priest who attended him in all the latter part
of his illness wrote to me the day after his death that I could
have no cause of anxiety for his everlasting welfare. It was a
beautiful death, he was so happy, peaceful, and resigned. I had
only left him a _very_ short time when he again asked for Edith.
She came up to his bedside, and then there seemed to come over
William's face a bright light illuminating his countenance, and
fixing his eyes upwards with a short sigh, he breathed his last.
There was no suffering then, no agony. I had asked him if he feared
death. 'No,' he said, and looked as if he wondered at the thought
coming into my mind. He felt he had found the only true peace and
happiness. He told me he wished to be buried at Kensal Green. His
only anxiety was about poor Edith, and when I told him that I would
do what lay in my power for her, he seemed satisfied, and never, I
believe, gave this world another thought, but prepared to meet our
Blessed Lord. That beautiful look of peace was on his face after
death. Francis arrived too late to see him alive, but when he
looked on William's face he said, 'Oh, sister, how beautiful!' The
little room was draped with black and white. There he lay, and we
were coming and going, and praying by the side of the open coffin.
On Tuesday will be the funeral. On Monday the body will be removed
to the Church of St. Mary of the Angels, Bayswater, where it will
remain through the night, according to devout Roman custom."