The wondering servants, who had been too well trained even to look any comment in their mistress’ hearing, let loose their tongues as they watched the carriage roll away.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE STORM BURSTS.

The Duke of Hereward arrived at home the next morning.  When the fiacre that brought him from the railway station rolled through the porte-cochere into the court yard and drew up before the main entrance of the Hotel de la Motte, he sprang out with almost boyish eagerness, and ran up the stairs, and rang and knocked with vehemence and impatience.

The gray-haired porter opened the door.

“How is the duchess, Leblanc?  Has she risen?  Send some one to let her know that I have arrived,” he exclaimed, hurriedly.

"Helas! Monseigneur!” answered the venerable old servant, in a distressed tone.

“What do you mean?  Is the duchess ill?  I got a letter from her yesterday, in which she said she was quite well.  It met me at Marseilles.  She continues well.  I hope?  Why don’t you speak?” impatiently demanded the duke.

“Mille pardons.  Monseigneur; but madame has gone,” sadly replied Leblanc.

“What do you say?” exclaimed the duke, discrediting the evidence of his own ears.

“Mille pardons, Monsieur le Duc, Madame la Duchesse has gone.”

“Gone! the duchess gone!” exclaimed the duke, in amazement, not unmixed with incredulity.

“Oui; Monseigneur.”

“Gone! the duchess gone!  Where?”

“Miserable that I am, Monseigneur, I do not know.  I cannot tell.  Will Monsieur le Duc deign to consult the coachman who drove Madame la Duchesse in the carriage when she left the house last night, not to return.  He can probably give Monseigneur some information,” respectfully suggested the old porter.

“Send Dubourg to me in the library, then,” said the duke, as he strode down the hall, full of vague alarm, but far from suspecting the fatal truth.

Soon the coachman came to him in the library, and in answer to his questions told how he had driven the duchess alone to the railway station to catch the night express for Marseilles.

“The night express for Marseilles!  Then the foolish child was going to meet me, and must have passed me on the road!” said the duke to himself, with a strange blending of flattered affection and anxious fears.

“That will do, Dubourg.  The duchess went down to the seaport to meet me on the steamer, and we have missed each other on the road.  It is a pity, but it cannot be helped!” said the duke dismissing his coachman by a wave of his hand.

The man bowed and retired.

“Silly child, to go and do such an absurd and indiscreet thing as that!  I would go down after her by the next train only I should be sure to pass her on the road again; for she will hasten immediately back when she finds that I have arrived at Marseilles and left for Paris,” said the duke to himself, as he rang for his valet and retired to his own room to dress for breakfast.