The two doctors summoned in haste earlier in the day had at last taken their leave with hushed steps and grave faces. All that human skill could avail had been done, and done in vain. Throughout the castle it was known that the fiat had gone forth that the gentle mistress whom all loved lay dying--that she would hardly see the dawn of the Christmas morning; and there was hardly a dry eye amongst the assembled household, gathered together to talk in whispers of the sad intelligence, and to listen breathlessly for any sound proceeding from the part of the house where the dying woman lay. The pealing of the bell of the outer door caused a commotion in their midst, till the butler, who rose to answer the summons, remarked that it was most likely one of the two parsons come to see the Duchess. The Duke had sent a message to both when the death sentence had gone forth, and this was probably the response. He went to the door, and sure enough there walked in, with hushed step and awed face, the Rev. Job Tremodart, resident clergyman of St. Bride’s, whose parsonage stood not half-a-mile away. He was a tall, loose-limbed, lantern-jawed man, with a plain but benevolent countenance, an awkward manner, and a very decided inclination to slip into the native dialect in conversation. He entered with a nervous air, and seemed reluctant to follow the servant up the great staircase to the floor above. “May be I shan’t be wanted,” he whispered, trying to detain the man. “Du yu know if her Grace has asked for me?” “It was his Grace that sent word for you to be told, sir, you and Mr. St. Aubyn, of her Grace’s condition,” answered the man respectfully. “His Grace is in the little parlour here when he is not in the room. I will let him know you are here.” “Has Mr. St. Aubyn come too?” asked Mr. Tremodart, a look of relief crossing his face; “he will du her Grace more gude than I.” “He is not here yet, sir,” answered the butler, and then stood aside and motioned to the clergyman to go on, for at the top of the staircase stood a tall rigid figure, and Mr. Tremodart found himself shaking hands with the Duke almost before he had had time to realise the situation. “The Duchess will be glad to see you,” was the only word spoken by the stricken husband; and whether he would or no, the hapless pastor was compelled to follow his noble host.