“You never received it?” she cried; “and you do not know the truth about me even now?” “No; I know no more to-day, than I did the morning I bade you farewell in New York, nearly two years ago,” he answered. “I have blamed myself many times,” he went on regretfully, “because I did not allow you to tell me your history, as you attempted on several occasions; but really, I did not imagine there was anything very important to be told.” “And you have never learned—you have never been told my true name?” she gasped. “No; I only know you as Salome Howland Winthrop, and still my beloved wife,” Dr. Winthrop returned with a fond little smile, which however had much of sadness in it. “You are my wife, dear,” he added, as he saw the hot flush that mounted to her brow; “it makes no difference that you did not give your true surname. I married you in good faith and before witnesses; I took you to my home and made you mistress there—that of itself would give you a legal claim upon me, and nothing could break the contract but a divorce obtained upon the ground of unfaithfulness, upon my part or yours.” At the word divorce Salome threw out her hands with a low cry of horror and pain. Oh! she surely deserved the very worst that she could suffer as a punishment for her lack of faith in this noble man, whom she loved with her whole soul. What would he think of her when he learned what she had done—when she should tell him that she had applied for a legal separation from him? No doubt he would be so wounded and offended that he would repudiate her and tell her that he would abide by the decision of the court. “Does the thought of a divorce so pain you?” he said tenderly. “It is an ugly thought, an ugly word, but it never need trouble us; for, love, our hearts are too firmly knit together to ever desire a separation, are they not?” “Oh, how shall I tell you?—how shall I tell you?” she wailed, breaking down utterly again, and wringing her hands in anguish. “How shall you tell me what?” he questioned wonderingly. With a great effort she calmed herself, for she knew that she must tell him the truth. “What will you think of me when I tell you that I have petitioned for a divorce?” she moaned with lips that were absolutely colorless. “Salome!” and he recoiled from her in sudden horror, shocked and wounded to his very heart’s core. “How could you? On what grounds?” he sternly demanded after struggling a moment for speech. She shivered as with an ague chill at his tone, and bowed her head humbly before him.