On the first day on which she was permitted to leave her bedchamber and sit for awhile in an easy resting chair, beside the open window of her boudoir, to enjoy the fresh air from the mountain and the lake, she sent for the young duke to come to her.
He eagerly obeyed the summons, and hastened to her side.
He had not been permitted to see her since her illness, and now he was almost overwhelmed with sorrow to see into what a mere shadow of her former self she had faded.
As she reclined there in her soft white robes, with her long, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, so fair, so wan, so spiritual she looked, that it seemed as if the very breeze from the lake might have wafted her away.
He dropped on one knee beside her, and embraced and kissed her hands, and then sat down next her.
After the first gentle greetings were over, she amazed him by turning and asking:
"Has the murderer been discovered yet?"
"No, my beloved, but the detectives have a clue, that they feel sure will lead to the discovery and conviction of the wretch," answered the young duke, in a low voice.
"Where have they laid the body of my dear father?" she next inquired in a low hushed tone.
"In the family vault beside those of my own parents," gravely replied the young man.