The Lost Lady of Lone. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

own—parents, my lord? I knew that your dear mother had gone before, but—your father—"

      "My father has passed to his eternal home. It is well with him as with yours. They are happy. And we—have a common sorrow, love!"

      "I did not know—I did not know. No one told me," murmured Salome, as she dropped her face on her open hands, and cried like a child.

      "Every one wished to spare you, my sweet girl, as long as possible. Yet I did think, they had told you of my father's departure, else I had not alluded to it so suddenly. There! weep no more, love! Viewed in the true light, those who have passed higher are rather to be envied than mourned."

      Then to change the current of her thoughts he said:

      "Can you give your mind now to a little business, Salome?"

      "Yes, if it concerns you," she sighed, wiping her eyes, and looking up.

      "It concerns me only inasmuch as it affects your interests, my love. You are of age, my Salome?"

      "Yes, I was twenty-one on my last birthday."

      "Then you enter at once upon your great inheritance—an onerous and responsible position."

      "But you will sustain it for me. I shall not feel its weight," she murmured.

      "There are thousands in this realm, my love, good men and true, who would gladly relieve me of the dear trust," said the duke, with a smile. "We must, however, be guided by your father's will, which I am happy to know is in entire harmony with your own wishes. And that brings me to what I wished to say. Kage, your late father's solicitor, is in possession of his last will. He could not follow the custom, and read it immediately after the funeral, because your illness precluded the possibility of your presence at its perusal. But he only waits for your recovery and a summons from me to bring it. Whenever, therefore, you feel equal to the exertion of hearing it, I will send a telegram to Kage to come down," concluded the duke.

      "My father's last will!" softly murmured Salome. "Send the telegram to-day, please. To hear his last will read will be almost like hearing from him."

      "There is beside the will a letter from your father, addressed to you, and left in the charge of Kage, to be delivered with the reading of the will, in the case of his, the writer's, sudden death," gravely added the duke.

      "A letter from my dear father to me? A letter from the grave! No, rather a letter from Heaven! Telegraph Mr. Kage to bring down the papers at once, dear John," said Salome, eagerly, as a warm flush arose on her pale, transparent cheek.

      "I will do so at once, love; for to my mind, that letter is of equal importance with the will—though no lawyer would think so," said the duke.

      "You know its purport then?"

      "No, dearest, not certainly, but I surmise it, from some conversations that I held with the late Sir Lemuel Levison."

      As he spoke the door opened and Lady Belgrade entered the room, saying softly, as she would have spoken beside the cradle of a sick baby:

      "I am sorry to disturb your grace; but the fifteen minutes permitted by the doctor have passed, and Salome must not sit up longer."

      "I am going now, dear madam," said the duke, rising.

      He took Salome's hand, held it for a moment in his, while he gazed into her eyes, then pressed it to his lips, and so took his morning's leave of her.

      The same forenoon he rode over to the Lone Station, and dispatched a telegram to the family solicitor, Kage.

CHAPTER X.

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THE LETTER AND ITS EFFECT.

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      Mr. Kage arrived at Lone, within twenty-four hours after having received the duke's telegram. He reached the castle at noon and had a private interview with the duke in the library, when it was arranged that the will and the letter should be read the same afternoon in the presence of the assembled household.

      "The letter also? Is not that a private one from the father to his daughter?" inquired the duke.

      "No, your grace. There are reasons why it must be public, which you will recognize when you hear it read," answered the lawyer.

      "Then I fear I have been mistaken in my private thoughts concerning it. Pray, will it give us any clue to the perpetrators of the murder?"

      "None whatever! It certainly was not a violent death that the banker anticipated for himself when he prepared that letter to be delivered in the event of his sudden decease."

      "Has any clue yet been found to the murderer?"

      "None that I have heard of."

      "Or to the mysterious woman who was supposed to have carried off the booty?"

      "None, Detective Keightley called on me yesterday for some information regarding the stolen property, and I furnished him with a photograph of that snuff-box given to Sir Lemuel Levison by the Sultan of Turkey—the gold one richly set with precious stones. Sir Lemuel had it photographed by my advice, for identification in case of its being stolen. And he left several duplicate copies with me. I gave one to Keightley. But the man could give me no information in return. The missing woman seemed lost in London. And the proverbial little needle in the haystack might be as easily found," said the lawyer.

      The announcement of luncheon put an end to the interview.

      The two gentlemen passed on into the smaller dining-room where Lady Belgrade awaited them. She received the solicitor politely and invited him to the table.

      After the three were seated and helped to what they preferred, her ladyship turned to the lawyers and said:

      "My niece understands that you have a letter for her, left in your charge by her father. She wishes you to send it to her immediately. Her maid is here waiting to take it."

      "Pardon me, my dear lady, the letter must remain in my possession until after the reading of the will, when, for certain reasons, it must be read, as the will, in the presence of the household. Pray explain this to Miss Levison, and tell her that I shall be ready to read and deliver both at five o'clock this afternoon, if that will meet her convenience," said the lawyer, respectfully.

      "That will suit her; but I hope the forms will not occupy more than an hour. Miss Levison is still extremely feeble, and ought not to sit up longer," said the dowager.

      "It will not require more than half an hour, madam," replied Mr. Kage.

      Lady Belgrade gave the message to the maid for her mistress. And when the girl retired, the conversation turned upon the proceedings of the London detectives in pursuit of the unknown murderers.

      At the appointed hour the household servants were all assembled in the dining-room. At the head of the long table sat the family attorney and his clerk. Before them lay a japanned tin box, secured by a brass padlock. It contained the last will, the letter, and other documents appertaining to the deceased banker's estate. They were only waiting for the entrance of Miss Levison and her friends. No one else was expected. There was not the usual crowd of poor relatives who "crop up" at the reading of almost every rich man's will. The late Sir Lemuel Levison had no poor relations whatever. His people were all rich, and all scattered over Europe and America, at the head of banks, or branches of banks, in every great capital, of the almost illustrious house of "Levison, Bankers."

      The assembled household had not to wait long. The door opened and the young lady of Lone entered, supported on each side by the Duke of Hereward and the dowager, Lady Belgrade.

      Her fair,