ered, mournfully:

"Said I not that you have nothing to fear except from your weak and
sinful self. Child, you have nothing else on earth to dread. You are to
be protected from yourself alone."

"And from _him_! Oh, mother, keep the great temptation from me!"

"He shall be kept from you, if, indeed, he should presume to seek you
here," said the abbess.

"He will seek me, mother! He came to seek me, and for nothing else. He
has by some means found out my retreat, and he has come to seek me! Be
sure that he will present himself here to-morrow, if not to-day."

"In that case, we shall know how to deal with him, even though he is the
Duke of Hereward; for he has, and can have, no lawful claim on you. So
far from that, he is in deadly danger from you. He is liable to
prosecution by you; for you are not his wife; you are only a lady whom he
entrapped by a felonious marriage ceremony, and sought to ruin. It is
amazing," added the abbess, reflectively, "that a nobleman of his exalted
rank and illustrious fame should have stooped _so_ low as to stain
his honor with so deep a crime, and to risk the infamy and destruction
its discovery must have brought upon him."

"It is amazing and incredible! That is why, in the face of the evidence
of my own eyes and ears, the testimony of other eye and ear witnesses,
and of my own certain knowledge, based upon proof as sure as ever formed
the foundation of any knowledge, I still feel in my heart of heart that
he is guiltless, stainless, noble, pure and true as the prince of
noblemen should be," sighed Salome, adding word upon word of eulogy, as
if she could not say enough.

"In the face of all positive proof, and of the convictions of your
judgment, your _heart_ tells you that this criminal is innocent,"
said the abbess, incisively.

"In the face of all, my heart assures me that he is pure, true, and
noble!" exclaimed Salome.

"Do you believe your heart?" gravely inquired the elder lady.

"No; for is it not written: 'The heart is deceitful, and desperately
wicked.' No, I do not believe my weak and sinful heart, which I know
would betray me into the hands of my lover, if I should be so unfortunate
as to meet him."

"You shall not meet him; you shall be saved from him," answered the
abbess.

At that moment a bell was heard to ring throughout the building.

"That calls us to the refectory--to our happy Christmas festival. Come,
my daughter," said the lady, rising.

"I cannot go