“My husband coming here!  Oh! how soon will he come?  He cannot be here in less than twenty-four hours, can he?” eagerly demanded Salome.

“He may be here in less than six hours.  The Duke of Hereward does not have to come from London; he is not there, but in Paris; so you perceive, also, that if you had gone to England, as you proposed to do, you would have missed seeing him there,” added the lady, smiling.

“My husband in Paris—­so near.  My husband to be here this evening—­so soon.  Oh, this is too much, too much happiness!” exclaimed the young wife, bursting into tears of joy.

“Then you have no dread of meeting him?” suggested the elder lady.

“‘Dread of meeting him?’ Dread of meeting my own dear husband?  Ah, no, no, no!  No dread, but an infinite longing to meet him.  Oh!  I know and feel how I have wronged him.  How deeply and bitterly I have wronged him.  But I know, also, how utterly he will pardon me.  Yes, I know that, as surely as I know that my Heavenly Lord pardons us all of our repented sins!” fervently exclaimed Salome.

“Heaven grant that you may be happy, my child’” said the lady, earnestly.

At that moment the door opened, and an aged nun, one of the attendants in the Old Men’s Home, entered the room.

“Well, Mere Pauline, what is it?” calmly inquired the abbess.

“Holy mother, I have come from Monsieur le Docteur to say that the messenger has come back from L’Ange, and brought an answer to the telegram.  Monsieur le Duc d’ Hereward will be here by the midday express from Paris, which reaches L’Ange at five o’clock this afternoon,” answered Mere Pauline.

“Thanks for your news.  Sit down and breathe after climbing all these stairs.  And now tell me, how is the wounded man?” inquired the abbess, as the old nun sank wearily into the nearest chair.

“Helas! holy mother, he is sinking fast.  The doctor thinks he will not outlive the night; and meanwhile he is anxious, so anxious, for the arrival of Monsieur le Duc!  He asks from time to time if the duke has come, or is coming; if we have heard from him, and so on,” sighed the old nun.

“But have you not soothed him by communicating the message received from the duke, that his grace will be here at five o’clock?”

“No, holy mother! for he was sleeping under the influence of opium, which the good surgeon had felt obliged to administer in order to quiet him just before the message came.  If he wakes and inquires about the duke again, we will give him the message.”

“Quite right.  Has the wretched man seen a priest, or asked to see one?”

“No, mother! but I was not unmindful of his immortal weal.  I asked him if he would see Pere Garbennetti.  He brightened up at the name, and inquired if le pere was here.  I told him yes, and at his service, waiting to attend him, indeed.  But then he gloomed again, and said no; he would see no one until he had seen the Duke of Hereward.  He would rest and save his strength for his interview with the Duke of Hereward.  I will return to my charge now, if my good mother will permit me,” said the old nun, rising from her chair.