"Then, your grace, she seized me by the two shoulders and looked me straight in the face, and said--'Tell your mistress, if she would save herself from utter ruin, she will see me and hear what I have to tell her, before she sees the Duke of Hereward again!'" answered the girl, in a low tone. "'_Before I see the Duke of Hereward again_.' Ah, what is it? What is it?" murmured the bewildered bride to herself. Then she spoke to Margaret. "Bring the woman up here. I will see her at once." Once more the girl obediently left the room. The young bride covered her pale face with her hands, and trembled with dread of--she knew not what! A few minutes passed. The door opened again, and Margaret re-appeared, ushering in Rose Cameron's housekeeper. Salome looked up. CHAPTER XV. THE CLOUD FALLS. When Rose Cameron's emissary entered the bride's chamber, the young duchess arose from her chair, but almost instantly sank back again, overpowered by an access of that mysterious foreshadowing of approaching calamity which had darkened her spirit during the whole of this, her bridal day. And it was better, perhaps, that this should be so, as it prepared her to sustain the shock which might otherwise have proved fatal to one of her nervous and sensitive organization. She looked up from her resting-chair, and saw, standing, courtesying before her, a weary, careworn, elderly woman, in a rusty black bonnet, shawl, and gown. No very alarming intruder to contemplate. The woman, on her part, instead of the proud and insolent beauty she had expected to see, in all the pomp and pride of her bridal day and her new rank, beheld a fair and gentle girl, still clothed in the deepest mourning for her murdered father. And her heart, which had been hardened against the supposed triumphant rival of the poor peasant girl, now melted with sympathy. And she, who had persistently forced her way into the bride's chamber, with the grim determination to spring the news upon her without hesitation or compassion, now cast about in her simple mind how to break such a terrible shock with tenderness and discretion. "You look very much fatigued. Pray sit down there and rest yourself, while you talk to me," said the young duchess, gently, and pointing to a chair near her own. "Ay, I am tired enough in mind and body, my lady, along of not having slept a wink all last night on account of--what I'll tell you soon, my lady. So I'll even take you at your kind word, my lady, and presume to sit down in your ladyship's presence," sighed the woman, slowly sinking into the indicated seat, and then adding: "I know as ladyship is not exactly the right way to speak to a duke's lady as is a duchess; but I don't know as I know what is." "You must say 'your grace' in speaking to the duchess," volunteered Margaret, in a low tone. "Never mind, never mind," said the bride, with a slight smile. "I am quite ready to hear whatever you may have to say to me. What can I do for you?"