"Even so thought I. The news of his falsehood and of his death at the hands of the wronged lover, came to me in my convent retreat at the same time, and I heard no more of him from that day to this, when I have again seen him in the flesh. The saints defend us!"
"And you are absolutely certain that he was Count Waldemar?"
"I am absolutely certain."
"Mother Genevieve, did you know the woman who was with him?"
"No, not at all. I never saw or heard of her before. She seems to belong to the demi-monde, for she dresses like a princess, and talks like a peasant. Let us not speak of her," said the lady, coldly.
"We must speak of her, for I think I know who she is."
"You recognize her, then?"
"I cannot say that I do; at least, not by her person. I never saw her face before; but I have heard her voice under circumstances that rendered it impossible for me ever to forget its tones; and from her voice I believe her to be Rose Cameron, a Highland peasant girl of Ben Lone."
"Stop!" exclaimed the mother-superior, suddenly raising her hand. "You do not mean to intimate that she is the girl whom you overheard talking with the young Duke of Hereward at midnight, under your balcony, on the night before the murder of Sir Lemuel Levison?"
"She is the very same woman, as he is the very same man, who planned, if they did not perpetrate the robbery—who caused, if they did not commit, the murder; and their names are John Scott, Duke of Hereward, and Rose Cameron."