It will be remembered that when Mrs. Rochester had questioned Salome regarding her relations with the woman, the young girl had evaded her, and she had no suspicions that they had any interests in common. She simply imagined that the woman was grateful for the care which had been bestowed upon her during her illness, and so when Salome had called upon her for help in her extremity, at the chateau, she had cheerfully responded, to prove her gratitude. She did not dream that they lived together, or that the woman felt any special responsibility regarding Salome’s safety or well-being, and, since she had not known of the letter received through the mother-superior, she did not suppose her to know anything of the movements or intentions of Salome; she was, therefore, considerably disturbed when she heard her inquiring in somewhat excited tones for Sister Angela. She immediately went forward, sent the servant away, and quietly drew Harriet into a small reception-room and shut the door against intruders, while she congratulated herself that she had happened to appear upon the scene just at that opportune moment. “My good woman, what do you wish?—what can I do for you?” she inquired, assuming a tone of kindly interest. “I’ve come to see Miss Sa—Sister Angela,” Harriet returned, having almost betrayed her knowledge of Salome’s identity, in her excitement. “Why,” exclaimed Mrs. Rochester, affecting great surprise, “did you expect to find Sister Angela here now?” “Of course I did, marm! Where else should I look for her?” Harriet returned, growing more distressed at the confirmation of the statement made by a servant that the nun was not there. “She came here to nurse,” she went on, “but wrote me about three weeks ago that she should come home in about a fortnight. It’s three weeks now; so I came to see for myself what kept her. I keep house for her, marm, in a little house just under the convent walls,” she concluded, in explanation. “But,” responded Mrs. Rochester, still with an appearance of surprise, “Sister Angela’s duties here ceased some four weeks ago. Did she not return to Paris at that time?” “What!” cried Harriet in a frightened tone, and growing pale; “it’s true, then, what the servant told me—she isn’t here?” “No; she left Dr. Winthrop some four weeks ago,” Mrs. Rochester answered. “She was taken ill here very suddenly one day—she fainted, and seemed quite worn out; but, as soon as she was able, she insisted upon returning to Paris.” “Good gracious, marm! you can’t mean it!” exclaimed the woman wildly; “and she never came home at all!” “Is it possible?” said Mrs. Rochester with sympathetic earnestness. “Perhaps, then, she went to the convent.” “No, marm; she has her own house, and she would have come directly to me,” said Harriet. “Then she isn’t a nun at all,” remarked her companion in a peculiar tone; “for nuns do not keep house by themselves.”