Dr. Arnot stood regarding him suspiciously and trying to decide what course to pursue in this unexpected emergency. Dr. Winthrop saw that he doubted him. “I swear that this woman is my wife,” he said, “and if you do not wish to bring serious trouble upon yourself, you will do as I request, instantly.” His fellow-student now came to his side and laid his hand upon his shoulder. “What is the meaning of this, Winthrop?” he gravely inquired. “Just what I have said. I have found my wife, whom for almost two years, I have believed to be dead. How she ever happened to be in Paris, and in this place is more than I can understand. There is some terrible mystery about it; but if you doubt my word, look here!” He supported Salome with one arm while he thrust his other hand within his bosom and drew forth a small case which he passed to his friend. “Look at the face painted there, then at the one upon my breast, and doubt my word if you can,” he said, with quivering lips. The man opened the case and at once recognized Salome’s lovely face, which Dr. Winthrop had had copied upon ivory from a photograph after he had believed her to be dead, and had carried about with him ever since. It had needed but a glance at the still, white features resting upon Dr. Winthrop’s bosom to assure him that he spoke the truth, and then he quietly passed the picture to Dr. Arnot. Dr. Arnot grew very pale as he, too, saw the perfect likeness to his patient; then he turned and without a word led the way to the room which Salome had occupied ever since she had been an inmate of the institution. Dr. Winthrop laid his precious burden upon the bed, and began at once to restore her to consciousness. The fainting turn proved an obstinate one, but it finally yielded to his judicious treatment. Salome began to show signs of returning life, and then the young husband banished every one from the room, feeling that he could bear no eye to witness their reunion when she could fully come to herself. Never was music sweeter to mortal ears than when she heaved a long sigh, that was yet more of a sob than a sigh, and in a voice full of agony, cried out: “True, True! oh, my husband, save me!” That had been the prayer of her heart when she saw him leaving the ward and believed that she was looking her last upon him forever, and dooming herself to perpetual imprisonment in that horrible place; now she involuntarily gave utterance to it. Dr. Winthrop gathered her two cold white hands in his and hugged them to his breast, as he bent fondly over her. “My love, you are safe for all time—nothing shall ever separate us—nothing shall ever harm you again while I live.” Salome lifted her eyes wonderingly to his face. Instinctively she trusted him, and yet she could not understand it—the situation, his fond looks, and loving words.