The girl did not forget to honor the bride with her new title.
"I beg pardon, your grace," she said, "but there is a strange-looking old woman down stairs who says she is a widow from Westminster Road, and that she must see your grace on a matter of life and death, before you start on your wedding tour."
"I do not know any such person," said the young duchess, slowly, while that vague shadow of impending calamity gathered over her spirit more darkly and heavily than before.
"Thomas, the hall footman, brought me the message from the woman, your grace, and I went down to see her myself before troubling you. I thought she might be only a bolder begger than usual. But she is no begger, your grace. She looks respectable," answered the girl.
"Go to the woman and explain to her that I have no time to see her now, and ask her if she cannot intrust her business to you to be brought to me," said the duchess.
The maid courtesied and left the room.
"What is it? What is it? Why does every unusual event strike such deadly terror to my heart?" inquired the bride, as she sank, pale and trembling, into her resting-chair.
In a few minutes the door opened and Margaret re-appeared.
"I beg your grace's pardon, but the old woman is very obstinate and persistent. She will not tell me her business. She says it is with your grace alone; that it concerns your grace most of all; that it is a matter of more importance than life or death; and that—indeed I beg your pardon, your grace—but I do not like to deliver the rest of her message, it seems so impertinent," said the girl, blushing and casting down her eyes.
"Nevertheless, deliver it. I will excuse you. The impertinence will not be yours," said the bride, as a cold chill struck her heart.