“Your devoted father, LEMUEL LEVISON.”

During the reading of the letter the face of Salome was bathed in tears and buried in her pocket-handkerchief.

The duke sat by her, with his arm around her waist, supporting her.

At the end of the reading, without looking up, she stretched out her hand and whispered softly: 

“Give me my dear father’s letter now.”

The attorney, who was engaged in re-folding the documents and restoring them to the japanned box, left his seat, and came to her side, and placed the letter in her hands.

“Thanks, Mr. Kage,” she said, wiping her eyes and looking up.  “But now will you tell me if you know what my dear father meant by writing of the precarious state of his health?  He seemed to enjoy a very vigorous and green old age.”

“Yes, he ‘seemed’ to do so, my dear young lady; but it was all seeming.  He was really affected with a mortal malady, which his physicians warned him might prove fatal at any moment,” gravely replied the lawyer.

“And he never hinted it to us!”

“He did not wish to sadden your young life with a knowledge of his affliction.”

“My own dear papa!  My dear, dear papa! loving, self-sacrificing to the end of his earthly life! never thinking of his own happiness—­always thinking of mine or of others!  My dear, dear father!” murmured the still weeping daughter.

“He thought of your happiness, and of the happiness of your betrothed husband, my dear young lady, when he committed that letter to my care, to be delivered to you in case of his sudden death, and when he charged me to urge with all my might, your compliance with its instructions.  And now permit me to add, my dear Miss Levison, that to obey your father’s will in this matter would be the very best and wisest course you could pursue.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kage; I know that you are a faithful friend to our family; but—­I must have a little time to recover,” murmured Salome, faintly.

“Here, you may remember my dear Salome, that when I told you of this letter in the possession of Mr. Kage, I said that I thought I knew its purport from certain conversations I had held with your late father.  He had hinted to me the dangerous condition of his health, and he had expressed a hope that no accident to himself should be permitted to postpone our marriage; and then he told me that he had left a letter with his solicitor to be read in case of his sudden death, and that the letter would explain itself.  He concluded by begging me if anything should happen to him to necessitate the delivery of that letter to you, to urge upon you the wisdom and policy of following its direction.  He could not have given me a commission I should be more anxious or earnest in executing.  My dear Salome, will you obey your good father’s wishes?  Will you give me at once a husband’s right to love and cherish you?” he added in a low whisper.