“You may be sure o’ that, my poor young lady; for if things be as they seem, you have suffered much wrong,” earnestly answered the woman.

“Aweel, then, tak’ my marritge lines, my letter, and this likeness o’ my laird—­and may the black de’il burn him in—­”

“Oh, my dear child, don’t say that.  It is dreadful.  Tell me what I am to do with these papers and this picture.”

“First of a’, ye’ll be very carefu’ o’ ’em, and be sure to bring them back safe to me.”

“Yes, surely, my dear; but what am I to do with them?”

“Ye’ll get a cab, and tak’ the papers and the picture to the bride’s house, and ask to see the bride alone, on a matter o’ life and death.  And ye maun tak’ nae denial.  Ye maun see her, and tell her anent mysel’ here, betrayed into prison sae I canna come to warn her.  And show her my marritge lines, and my letter, and my laird’s pictur’—­the foul fien’ fly awa’ wi’ him!—­and tell her, gin she dinna believe them, to gae to the auld kirk o’ St. Margaret’s, Wes’minster, and look at the register, and see the minister, Mr. Smith, and the clerk, Mr. Jones, and the auld bodie, Mrs. Gray, and she’ll find out anent it!  Will ye do this for me?”

“Yes, I will, my dear child.”

“Here is a half-sovereign then to pay for the cab hire.  And, oh! be sure ye tak’ unco gude care o’ my papers!  They’s a’ my fortun’, ye ken.”

“Yes, indeed, I know how important they are to you, and I will bring them back safe,” said the housekeeper, as she put the marriage certificate, the letter, the portrait, and the money in her pocket, and arose to leave the cell.

“And noo, we’ll see, an’ I dinna bring ye to open shame, ye graund de’il!” exclaimed Rose.

“I don’t blame your anger, my poor dear, but don’t use bad words.  And now I am off.  Good-day to you until I see you again,” said the woman, as she left the cell.

Mrs. Brown was a good woman, but she did delight in hearing and retailing gossip, and in making and seeing a sensation; so she rather enjoyed her errand to Westbourne Terrace.  She was also a brave woman, so she did not shrink from meeting the high-born bridegroom and the bride with her overwhelming revelations.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SECOND BRIDAL MORN.

We must return to Elmhurst House and take up the thread of Salome’s destiny, where we left it on the morning on which the young Duke of Hereward had called on Lady Belgrade and informed her ladyship of the arrest of the mysterious, vailed passenger, and implored her to keep all the papers announcing that arrest, or in any manner referring to the tragedy at Castle Lone, from the sight of the bereaved daughter and betrothed bride.

“And so the mysterious vailed woman had been discovered, and she turns out to be Rose Cameron!” repeated Lady Belgrade, reflectively.  Then, after a pause, she said:  “I wonder who was her confederate in that atrocious crime—­or, rather, who was her master in it? for she is too weak and simple to have been anything but a blind tool, poor creature!”