“The only reason that I can think of,” Dr. Winthrop thoughtfully returned, “is this—Mrs. Rochester has a daughter who is a little older than Mrs. Winthrop, and whom for several years both her family and my own have been desirous that I should marry. My wife was supposed to have met a tragic death nearly two years ago; but as we have just discovered, such was not the case. She came to us as Sister Angela, to nurse us through the cholera—as I have already told you. Mrs. Rochester must by some means——Ah! I see!” he said to himself with a start, as he suddenly remembered how she had fainted in the upper hall. “Mrs. Rochester must have discovered her identity, and so shut her up in this mad-house, to get rid of her, in order that my marriage with her daughter need not be interrupted—though how she could bear to contemplate such a double crime is more than I can understand.” There were some other things which he could not understand—such as how Mrs. Rochester had been able to identify Salome as his wife, and how she had been able to keep all her nefarious doings from other people; but these mysteries he hoped would be explained later. “_Mon Dieu!_ but women are wicked creatures!” hypocritically exclaimed the distinguished brain doctor. A sarcastic smile curled Dr. Winthrop’s lips at the observation, but he made no reply. He requested Dr. Arnot to send a messenger for a carriage, and then went back to his wife. But he found Salome strangely silent and shy. She had not slept at all, for the moment Dr. Winthrop left her, a hundred conflicting memories began to torture her. First, she remembered Madame Winthrop’s statement that she was no legal wife. Then it occurred to her that even if she had been at that time, she might be so no longer for had she not signed with her own hands the letter which would empower the lawyer to procure her divorce from Truman Winthrop? Perhaps the necessary papers had already been sent to Miss Rochester, and she had thus, by her own voluntary act, made herself no wife. Then had she not seen and heard enough with her own eyes and ears, to ruin her happiness forever? How could she believe that Truman Winthrop still loved her, was still loyal to her, when he had so earnestly avowed that he loved another woman, and asked her to marry him? Such thoughts as these nearly drove her wild, and banished sleep from her eyes. At first when she awoke to consciousness, and saw that loved face bending so fondly over her, it had seemed as if all her troubles were over. Dr. Winthrop had appeared so overjoyed to find her—had spoken such tender words of love, that for the time she had forgotten all else and believed that his heart was all her own once more. But now—oh! what did it mean? It was all a dreadful puzzle, and all her peace, and trust, and happiness slipped out of her grasp again.