“Did you get any rest, my darling?” Dr. Winthrop inquired, as he approached the bed and found her awake. “Why, Salome! I do not believe you have slept at all,” he exclaimed, as he noticed her glittering, restless eyes, her crimson cheeks, and the tense look of pain about her mouth. “What makes you so nervous, dear? I told you I would not leave your door, and I did not. You have a high fever, too, and your pulse is bounding like a racehorse.” She sat up in bed as he took her hand in his, and when he would have clasped her again in his arms, she avoided him by a dexterous movement, and slipped into a chair. He looked wounded, but he would not be repulsed. “My darling!” he cried, as he bent down and folded her to him; “how can I ever express my gratitude for this great boon? How can I ever thank the good God for giving you back to me? Are you not glad, Salome, and did you know, that all this time, I have believed you dead?” She knew it but too well, and she shivered over the bitter memories which these questions revived, while she gently put his arms away from her, thinking that perhaps she was no wife—she had no right to these fond embraces. “What is it, my Peace?” he questioned anxiously. “Am I too demonstrative in my excessive gladness? Are you still weak from your recent illness, and does it oppress you? You are very thin, love.” And he lifted one of her burning hands to his lips, glancing at it sadly, as he did so. “Can we not go away from here?” she pleaded tremulously. “Oh, I want to get away from this horrible place.” He saw that she was quivering in every nerve, and he began to realize that it was his first duty to get her away from all depressing influences and unpleasant associations; so curbing his longing to hear some word of love from her lips, he gently replied: “Certainly, dear; I do not wonder at your eagerness to leave this vile place. We will go at once. I have already sent for a carriage. Are your wraps here in this room? Ah!”—as she went to the closet and brought forth her ugly nun’s bonnet and cloak—“we must get a more becoming garb than this for you. I cannot have my wife going about as a gray nun.” Again she shivered as he pronounced the word wife, and her hands trembled so that she could scarcely tie her bonnet-strings. “Nay, my darling, I shall positively forbid that,” Dr. Winthrop playfully continued, as she was about to resume the double spectacles which she had worn so long. “I can never have those dear eyes hidden from me again. Ah, to think I never knew you, when for weeks you were so near me! Oh, my love, how much I owe you. A second time you saved my life. Yet why the need of such a disguise? Why have you hidden from me so persistently when I have longed for you with such bitter longing? Why——But I must wait; there are many things that need to be explained, and we have no time now.”