“Bien!” said the abbess.  “I will attend his grace.  Go, dear daughter, and await my return in my parlor.  Sister Dominica, lead the way and announce me.”

Salome, in obedience to the abbess’ orders, went back to the lady-superior’s private parlor to await, with palpitating heart the issue of the lady’s interview with the duke.

Sister Dominica deferentially led the lady abbess to the wicket room, opened the door, and said: 

“The lady-superior of the convent to see Monseigneur, the Duke,” then closed the door after the abbess, and retired.

As Mother Genevieve entered the room, she saw standing there a tall, thin, distinguished-looking young man, with a pale complexion, blonde hair and beard, and blue eyes.  His face bore traces of deep suffering bravely endured.  The gentle abbess sympathized with him from the depths of her kind heart, and for the first time felt glad that he would regain his wife, although by his doing so the convent would lose her fortune.

“Monseigneur, the Duke, of Hereward?” she said graciously, advancing into the room.

“Yes, madam.  I have the honor of saluting the Lady Abbess of St. Rosalie?” returned the duke, with a bow.

“A poor nun, monseigneur; who, as the unworthy head of the house, begs leave to welcome you here,” humbly returned the lady, bending her head.

“Thanks, madam.”

“It is a sad event which has brought you under our roof, monseigneur.”

“A very sad one, madam.”

“And yet, for your sake, a very fortunate one.”

“May I be permitted to ask you, madam, in what way this misfortune can be fortunate?”

“I had supposed that you already knew that, monseigneur.”

“Perhaps I do.  I am not sure.  I do not clearly comprehend, madam.  Will madam deign to make her meaning plainer?”

“Yes, monseigneur, and you will pardon me if I enter too abruptly upon a subject at once painful and delicate.”

The abbess paused, and the duke inclined his head in the attitude of an attentive listener.

“The young Duchess of Hereward, monseigneur?” said the abbess, in a low voice.

The duke started very slightly, but his pale face flushed crimson.

“Pardon, monseigneur.  I am the more deeply interested in the young lady, for that she passed her infancy, childhood and youth—­being nearly the whole of her short life, indeed, under this roof—­where I stood in the position of a mother to her orphanage.”

“I knew, madam, that the motherless heiress was educated here,” replied the duke, by way of saying something.

“You will, therefore, understand the interest I take in Madame la Duchesse, and forgive my question when I ask:  Have you heard from her grace since she left her home?”

“You knew that she had left her home, then?” exclaimed the duke, in painful astonishment.

The abbess bowed assent.