Those words, “the patient of Dr. Arnot—he will visit mademoiselle when he makes his usual round of the wards,” had opened her eyes to the terrible truth. She knew now where she was, understood the meaning of those grated windows and her locked door. She was an inmate of a private insane asylum, and like a flash it had come to her that she had been cunningly decoyed into the abominable place. She remembered now the peculiar look that had swept over Mrs. Rochester’s face when she had insisted upon returning to Paris, and the equally peculiar inflection of her tones when she had replied, “You shall go to-morrow—I promise you, you shall go to-morrow.” Then she recalled the fact that she had suddenly disappeared and been absent all the afternoon, and she knew that she must have come to Paris and arranged this plot to shut her up, where she would have no power to interfere with any of her plans or to reveal to any one, if she was so disposed, what she knew regarding her past life. She saw that Mrs. Rochester feared that she would reveal her identity to Dr. Winthrop, and thus frustrate all her designs and her daughter’s prospects. “Oh,” she murmured, with a thrill of horror, as she dropped her face upon her hands, “have I not already suffered enough at their hands without being buried alive like this?” The girl who had brought in her breakfast took advantage of this moment of weakness and stole softly from the room again, locking the door after her. CHAPTER XXXIII. SALOME MAKES ATTEMPTS TO SECURE HER LIBERTY. It seemed to Salome as she sat there alone in her room, after her attendant had left her, as if this fresh trouble was more than she could bear. She was a prisoner in a great insane asylum in the heart of Paris, and no one in all the world, save Mrs. Rochester, knew where she was. She was lost! She might almost as well have been dead and buried. She blamed herself now for having consented to enter the house at Monsieur Arnot’s invitation. It would have been far better to have sat in the street all night than to have walked into such a trap. But of course it had all been planned. The driver, doubtless, was in the employ of Arnot, and the broken trace had been only a ruse. She grew very much excited as she thought this all out, and a feeling of bitter anger and resentment took possession of her usually gentle heart. She arose and paced her room back and forth, while she planned what she would do to make Mrs. Rochester and her unprincipled daughter feel the weight of her righteous indignation, if she could but get out of that horrible place.