"That letter was written in this house, and sent to Rome to be mailed thence, in order to put you off the true track of the duchess, monseigneur," said the abbess, with a smile.
"What do you tell me, madam!" exclaimed the duke, in surprise.
"Madame la Duchesse is under this roof, to which she fled for refuge direct from London!"
"Can this be possible, madam?"
"It is true! To whom, indeed, could the child come, in her extremity, but to me, the mother of her motherless youth?"
"Oh, madam, you fill my heart with joy and gratitude! My wife under this roof?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"And safe and well?"
"Safe and well."
"Thank Heaven! Can I see her at once? Does she know I am here? Does she know—"