All this, the honest woman from Westminster Road knew and felt, yet she had not the courage now to shock that gentle girl's heart by telling the news which must stop her journey.
"Please excuse me; but I must really beg you to be quick in telling me what I can do to serve you. My time is limited. Within an hour we have to catch the tidal train to Dover. And—I have much to do in the interim," said the young duchess, speaking with gentle courtesy to this poor, shabby woman in the rusty widow's weeds.
"Ah, my lady—grace, I mean! there is no need of being quick! When you hear all I have to tell you—to my sorrow as well as yours, my grace!—your hurry will all be over; and you will not care about catching the tidal train—not if you are the lady as I take my—your grace to be!"
"What do you mean?" inquired Salome, in low, tremulous tones.
"My lady—grace, I mean! will you send your maid away? What I have to tell you, must be told to you alone," whispered the visitor.
"Margaret, you may retire. I will ring when I want you," said the young duchess.
And her maid, disgusted, for her curiosity had been strongly aroused, left the room and closed the door. And, as Margaret had too much self-respect to listen at the key-hole, she remained in ignorance of what passed between the young duchess and the uncanny visitor.
"Your strange words trouble me," said Salome, as soon as she found herself alone with her visitor.
"Ay, my lady, your grace, I know it. And I am sorry for it. But I cannot help it. And, indeed, I'm very much afeared as I shall trouble you more afore I am done."
"Then pray proceed. Tell me at once all you have to tell. And permit me to remind you that my time is limited," urged the young duchess.