She believed that the last time she had seen him, he was holding Sarah Rochester in his arms, and pouring words of passionate love into her ears. She believed that he was betrothed to her—that he hoped and expected to marry her. But surely unmistakable love for her now beamed in his eyes; his voice was full of tremulous tenderness, and her confidence in him was for the moment restored. A faint smile broke over her face, two crystal drops gathered in her eyes and rolled slowly over her cheeks. Her husband wiped them away with his own handkerchief, and stooping, kissed her softly on the lips. Then he lifted her head upon his arm with all the gentleness of a woman, and made her drink from a glass something he had prepared for her. “I am so tired,” she said, nestling more closely to his breast, like a weary child that has at last found a place of refuge and safety. The act almost unmanned him, for it told him how thoroughly she had become exhausted by the mental strain of the last few weeks; how all the burden of care and anxiety had suddenly dropped from her, now that she found herself safe with him, and she simply wanted to rest in his protection. “I know it, my darling,” he murmured fondly, “I know that you must be worn out with sorrow and fear; but it is all over now. Will you try to sleep a little while I go to make arrangements with Dr. Arnot for your removal?” and he laid her gently back upon the bed. She caught his hand, a look of fear leaping to her eyes. “Do not leave me,” she whispered nervously. “No, I will not, if you object,” he returned reassuringly, “but, dear, I want to take you away from this place immediately and I thought that if I could arrange for it while you had a little nap, it would facilitate matters. I will not go away from your door—I will step outside and send an attendant to ask Dr. Arnot to come to me. Are you willing—will you trust me and try to sleep?” “Yes,” she said, instantly releasing his hand while she turned her head upon her pillow and closed her eyes. Dr. Winthrop went softly out of the room, but did not move from the door. He beckoned to an attendant, and sent him with a message to Dr. Arnot requesting his presence. That gentleman did not keep him waiting long, but he looked pale and anxious, and remarked as he approached the young physician, that his friend was waiting below for him. “I cannot go yet,” Dr. Winthrop replied, and taking a card from his case, he wrote a few lines upon it, and then asked that it be sent down to the gentleman. Dr. Arnot complied with his request, after which Dr. Winthrop drew him to a seat just outside Salome’s door, and requested him to explain how his wife had come to be an inmate of his establishment. The wily physician’s brain had been busy ever since the discovery of Salome, and he had a cunningly constructed tale all ready for the young man’s ear.