“What is the matter?” she asked, as she caught sight of the girl’s pale face; “there is a large fire somewhere near, isn’t there?” “Yes; and I have just escaped from the burning building. Oh! madam, will you let me in to get warm?” pleaded Salome, with chattering teeth and shaking voice. Could Truman Winthrop have had even a dream of what his delicate wife was suffering that night, he would scarcely have slept as well as he did. The expression of anxiety on the woman’s face was instantly superseded by one of heartfelt pity and sympathy. “Poor child! poor child! you don’t say so!” she cried. “Of course you may come in and welcome. I have hot water, too, and you shall have something warm to drink, to keep you from taking cold. Come.” She reached out to grasp Salome’s hand, as she staggered up the steps, and kindly supported her inside her hospitable doors. “Thank you; how good—you are,” murmured the overtaxed girl; then the reaction came, and she sank helpless and unconscious in the woman’s arms. CHAPTER XXV. SALOME APPLIES FOR A SITUATION. When Salome awoke to consciousness, she found herself lying upon a clean bed in a small, neatly furnished room, while a cheerful fire burned in an open, portable grate, and gave an air of home-like comfort to the apartment. She had on a plain, but spotlessly white night-robe; the sheets and pillow cases upon the bed were like snow, and, though she was conscious of feeling weak, and everything about her was strange, yet she experienced a sense of content and restfulness such as she had not known since she had parted from her husband so many weeks ago. It was several moments before she could collect her thoughts sufficiently to realize what had happened or how she came to be there; but as she turned upon her pillow to look about her she saw the kind face of the woman who had opened the door to her so hospitably, and remembered all. “What is it, miss?” she asked, coming to her side, “do you want anything?—do you feel better? You have had such a long sleep; it seemed as if you never would wake up; you must have been thoroughly worn out.” “I am sure I was; but I feel very much rested. How long have I slept?” Salome asked. “Hours and hours, miss. It was about two o’clock in the morning when I brought you in, and now it is eight o’clock in the evening,” was the smiling reply. “I suppose the fire is out,” she said, while a shiver ran over her as she remembered her narrow escape. “Yes, miss, long ago; but it has been a costly fire, for there were several lives lost. I’ve been reading about it in the evening paper, and it has made my heart ache,” returned the woman sadly. “Will you read the account to me?” Salome asked, with a quivering lip. “Yes, miss, willingly, after you’ve had something to eat; you must be nearly famished by this time. I’ll just bring you a nice bit of toast and a cup of tea; then while you are eating I will read to you.”