"I remain, madam,
"Yours truly,
"TORQUILSTONE."
"His grace's brougham is waiting below for you, madam," the waiter said,
and I flew to Veronique.
I got her to dress me quickly. I wore the same things, exactly, as he had
seen me in before--deep mourning they are, and extremely becoming.
In about ten minutes Veronique and I were seated in the brougham and
rolling on our way. I did not speak.
I was evidently expected, for as the carriage stopped the great doors flew
open and I could see into the dim and splendid hall.
A silver-haired, stately old servant led me along through a row of
powdered footmen, down a passage all dimly lit with heavily shaded lights.
(Veronique was left to their mercies.) Then the old man opened a door, and
without announcing my name, merely, "The lady, your grace," he held the
door, and then went out and closed it softly.
It was a huge room splendidly panelled with dark, carved _boiserie_ Louis
XV., the most beautiful of its kind I had ever seen--only it was so dimly
lit with the same shaded lamps one could hardly see into the corners.
The duke was crouching in a chair and looked fearfully pale and ill, and
had an inscrutable expression on his face.
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