“Oh, no, you must not die—it is not so bad as that—you shall not die!” the young physician cried, startled out of his usual self-possession by her hopeless words, while a spasm of pain contracted his brow. “You are too young for such a fate—you must live. Salome!” with a sudden thrill in his tone, that was like the influence of old wine in her veins, “live for me! be my wife, and let me cherish you and win you back to health—let me throw around you the tenderness and care which you need at this time. Ah!” as he marked the swift, rich color that suffused her face, “do not let this excite you; I know it must seem sudden—forced, perhaps; but the exigency of the case demands prompt action. Will you, Salome? will you give yourself to me, who owe you so much? could you learn to love me well enough to be my wife?” He reached out, took both her hands in his, and looked beseechingly down upon her face. For a moment she was too surprised and agitated to speak or even to fully comprehend all that this astounding proposal meant to her. It seemed like a beautiful dream, an entrancing vision which must vanish if she moved or answered him. Then a quiver of deep, deep joy went thrilling along her nerves like an electric current, the burning blush mounted to her forehead and was lost in the waves of her hair, and her lips trembled with the excess of unexpected happiness. She lifted her eyes to his in one brief questioning glance as if to assure herself that her ears had not deceived her. It was full of trust, of love, of the deep joy that pervaded her whole being, and Truman Winthrop read all that he wished to know—read that she loved him with her whole soul. But he dared not betray the wild joy that went surging through him at the knowledge, for fear of exciting her. He simply raised those two white hands that lay so unresistingly in his clasp, and pressed his lips first upon one and then the other. “Salome, you love me—you will be my wife?” he breathed, and she longed to throw herself upon his breast and surrender herself wholly to the delight of loving and being loved. Then sudden terror seized her. If she was to be an invalid for long years, or if she was doomed, and had not long to live, it would be wrong to clog his life, to burden him at the very beginning of his career, with a sick and dying wife. Loving him as she did, she could not bear the thought of bringing such trouble and sorrow upon him. Better to live out her little life alone, even though her heart yearned so strongly for his love and care, and might break in the sacrifice for his sake.