“I cannot understand you, Truman,” she told him in her most dignified manner, “running away in this incomprehensible manner, just as we are leaving for Rome. What will Sadie think of you?” “Really, mother,” Dr. Winthrop gravely replied, “I was not aware that I had been guilty of anything so very rude, and as for what Miss Rochester may think that cannot affect me in any way.” “How can you say that, my son? You should have more regard for her feelings. Mrs. Rochester is very much hurt, for she thinks you are not using Sadie fairly at all.” “Why so?” the young man demanded, surprised. “She thinks, under the circumstances, that you are exceedingly indifferent to her.” “Under what circumstances?” “Why, when a man is pledged to marry a woman it is expected that he will show her some attention.” “It cannot be possible that you or Mrs. Rochester believe I am pledged to Sadie Rochester!” said Dr. Winthrop, looking exceedingly annoyed. “Any one would believe that we had a right to think so, after a certain interview which occurred here in Paris, and your subsequent attentions to the young lady. Really, Truman, you had no right to compromise Sadie if you had no intention of marrying her,” Madame Winthrop concluded. “I have never had any intention of compromising Miss Rochester,” Dr. Winthrop thoughtfully responded; and yet, out of the loyalty and delicacy of his noble soul, he could not bring himself to explain even to his mother how the girl had forgotten and betrayed herself, thus compromising him, rather than he her. “Truman, you ought to marry her. I have set my heart upon your marrying her. Will you?” and the woman turned a pleading face up to him. “Mother!” he cried out sharply, “do not talk to me of marriage. I do not wish to marry any one. I have no heart to bestow upon any woman. It died—it was burned to ashes with my Salome,” and a shiver of agony ran over him, leaving him deathly white, as he thought of his beloved whom he believed had met a tragic fate in New York. “But surely you will marry some time, Truman—you will not live single all your life—promise me that you will not. I could not bear the thought of you, with all your talents, isolating yourself, and leaving no one to perpetuate your name. Oh, why cannot you be sensible and marry Sadie?—you have led her to believe that you care for her.” Madam was very much in earnest, and she plainly betrayed it. Dr. Winthrop frowned and compressed his white lips to keep himself from giving expression to a bitter retort. He could not forget, if his mother did, that but for her he might even now have been happy in the love and possession of a beautiful wife. “Why will you harp upon that subject?” he said in a low, restrained tone.