During the reading of the letter the face of Salome was bathed in tears and buried in her pocket-handkerchief.
The duke sat by her, with his arm around her waist, supporting her.
At the end of the reading, without looking up, she stretched out her hand and whispered softly:
"Give me my dear father's letter now."
The attorney, who was engaged in re-folding the documents and restoring them to the japanned box, left his seat, and came to her side, and placed the letter in her hands.
"Thanks, Mr. Kage," she said, wiping her eyes and looking up. "But now will you tell me if you know what my dear father meant by writing of the precarious state of his health? He seemed to enjoy a very vigorous and green old age."
"Yes, he 'seemed' to do so, my dear young lady; but it was all seeming. He was really affected with a mortal malady, which his physicians warned him might prove fatal at any moment," gravely replied the lawyer.
"And he never hinted it to us!"
"He did not wish to sadden your young life with a knowledge of his affliction."
"My own dear papa! My dear, dear papa! loving, self-sacrificing to the end of his earthly life! never thinking of his own happiness—always thinking of mine or of others! My dear, dear father!" murmured the still weeping daughter.