“No; for mine has been eating and corroding my heart for more than thirty years, until it has consumed all the kindness and love in my nature, and made me the virago that I am. There! you can imagine that it has cost me something to own that to you; for I am a proud woman, and I never talk of my troubles, much less of my sins. Of course you couldn’t know what that song meant to me. Ah!” with a bitter groan—“shall I ever forget the last time I heard it sung? But,” rising and trying to steady her shaking tones, “we will not talk any more about it.” Then, as if moved by some uncontrollable impulse, she bent forward and kissed Salome upon the cheek. “There, child,” she said, flushing; “I’m making a perfect fool of myself, I suppose, and I’ve never kissed anybody since my sister died. But”—drawing herself up and speaking with something of her usual arbitrariness “we will never speak of this again. Good-night, child.” She turned abruptly and left the room, but Salome could see that she was terribly shaken, for she could not walk steadily. She soon followed her and stole softly up to her room, where she retired to rest, though she brooded long over the unhappiness of the woman whose trouble had been so much like her own. “Why is life so sad?” she asked herself. “Why are so many lives blighted and ruined? Why, if humanity was born to develop into a pure and sinless spirit, are there so many baneful influences to warp the soul and destroy all the sweetness and nobility of the nature?” But these were mysteries which could only be solved in the light of the future, when all secrets should be revealed; and Salome, who was learning to carry all her troubles to the good Father, sent up a little prayer for faith, and strength, and courage, and then fell into a profound and dreamless sleep. She was awakened very early in the morning, long before daylight, by a hand upon her shoulder, and found Harriet standing by her bedside, with a lighted candle, her face pale and anxious. “Miss Howland, will you get up, please?” she said. “Miss Leonard has been taken very ill; she says you have been trained as a nurse, and perhaps you will know what to do for her.” “Yes, indeed, Harriet. Go directly back to her, and I will come as soon as I can dress,” Salome answered, as she sprang out of bed and began to put on her clothes. Two minutes later she was in Miss Leonard’s room, and found her in a very nervous state, tossing to and fro, complaining of a dreadful pain in her head, while her face was strangely flushed, and the veins about her temples and neck were much swollen. Salome saw at once that the woman had not slept at all, that she had doubtless suffered, and was still suffering from the excitement of the previous evening, and she feared apoplexy, unless she could be immediately relieved.