She only longed, with breathless anxiety, to fly from England, from the Duke of Hereward, and all the horrors connected with him. She felt that she was not his wife, could never have been his wife, and that the mockery of a marriage ceremony, which had been performed for them by the Bishop of London that morning, at St. George's Hanover Square, had made the duke a felon and not a husband! If she should remain in England she might even be called upon, in the course of events, to take a part in his prosecution. And guilty as she believed him to be, she could not bring herself to do that! No! she must fly from England and conceal herself on the Continent! But where? She knew not as yet! Her mind was in a fever of excitement when she reached London Bridge. She paid and discharged her cab, giving the driver the promised half sovereign for catching the train. Then, with her thick vail folded twice over her pale face, and her little valise in her hand, she went into the station, made her way to the office and bought a first-class ticket. Then she went to the train, and stopping before one of the first carriages called a guard to unlock the door and let her enter. "Oh, you can't have a seat in this compartment, Miss," said a somewhat garrulous old guard, coming up to her. "This whole carriage is reserved for a wedding party--the Duke and Duchess of Hereward, as were married this morning, and their graces' retinue, which they are expected to arrive every minute, Miss. But you can have a seat in _this_ one, Miss. It is every bit as good as the other," concluded the old man, leading the way to a lady's carriage some yards in advance. "Reserved for a wedding party--reserved for the Duke and Duchess of Hereward and their retinue!" How her heart fainted, almost unto death, with a new sense of infinite disappointment and regret at what might have been and what was! Reserved for the Duke and Duchess of Hereward! Ah, Heaven! "Here you are, Miss!" said the guard, opening the door of an empty carriage. "How long will it be before the train starts?" inquired the fugitive in a low voice. The guard looked at his big silver watch and answered: "Time'll be up in three minutes, Miss." "But if the--the--wedding party should not arrive before that?" hesitatingly inquired Salome. "Train starts all the same, Miss! Can't even wait for dukes and duchesses. 'Gin the law!" answered the old guard, as he touched his hat and closed and locked the door. Salome sank back in her deeply-cushioned seat, thankful, at least, that she was alone in the carriage. And in three minutes the tidal train started. CHAPTER XIX. SALOME'S REFUGE. Salome was scarcely sane. Married that morning, with the approval and congratulations of all her friends, by one of the most venerable fathers of the church, to one of the most distinguished young noblemen in the peerage, who was also the sole master of her heart, and--