he portress' room, where I propose to break to him the
intelligence of your presence in the house."

"Thanks, dear mother! infinite, eternal thanks for all your great
goodness to me," fervently exclaimed Salome.

"You are much too extravagant in your expressions of gratitude, my
daughter! You exaggerate like a school-girl!" smiled the abbess.

"Oh! I will prove by my acts that I do not exaggerate my feelings at
least!" persisted Salome.

And then, with girlish enthusiasm, she began to tell the lady-superior
all she intended to do for the benefit of the convent charities, and
especially for the "Infants' Asylum."

The vesper-bell summoned them to chapel, where the evening service
occupied them for an hour.

They then went to the refectory, and joined the sisterhood at tea.

In coming from the refectory, they were met in the corridor by old Sister
Dominica, who stopped the abbess, respectfully, and said:

"I come, holy mother, to report to you that I have followed all your
instructions. Monseigneur le Duc and Monsieur le Docteur have well dined.
Monsieur le Docteur has returned to his patient, Monseigneur le Duc has
gone to the wicket-room to await madame, our holy mother."

"_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