“Do not let us talk of it any more, True; I do not want to think of anything now, but that I am safe, and belong wholly to you once more,” she sighed, a thrill of deep joy running through all her tones. Dr. Winthrop’s heart bounded within him at her words, for they had told him how entirely she belonged to him. “My wife! my wife!” he murmured fondly. Salome lifted her arms, and twined them about his neck, drawing his face down to hers until their lips met. It was the first time she had ever given such free expression to her affection for him, and it told him that her last doubt of his love—her last fear that he had married her from a sense of gratitude or duty had vanished forever, and that henceforth only the most perfect trust would exist between them. Just at that moment there came a tap upon the door. Harriet was very discreet, and had taken this way to warn the supposed lovers of her approach. Salome released herself from her husband’s embrace and bade her come in; but the lovely flush upon her cheeks, the light of the perfect happiness that beamed from her eyes told their own story even before she said: “Harriet, my good friend, it is but right that I should confide in you now. Dr. Winthrop is my husband. We were married nearly two years ago.” The woman looked amazed for a moment, then recovering herself, responded, with a wise smile: “I knew he was something to you, Miss Salome, the moment I saw you together; but I’m bound to confess I’d no idea that you got along quite so far. I’m sure I wish you both a great deal of joy. But—dinner’s ready,” she concluded practically, “and you’d both better come and have something to eat.” Dr. Winthrop laughed heartily at this sudden descent from sentiment to the realities of life; but drawing Salome’s arm through his, they followed the woman to another room, where they found a tempting repast awaiting them. Harriet refused to join them at the table, resolutely insisting that she should feel more at home if she served them. After the meal was over Dr. Winthrop led Salome again into the cozy parlor, and then said: “Now, love, I am going at once to send my cable message, and I shall not return again until I receive a reply. It may take a good many hours, but I shall make as quick and as thorough a business as possible of it, you may be very sure. But meantime,” he added, looking a trifle envious, “shall you feel quite safe to be left here over night?—shall you not feel lonely?” “Oh, no; Harriet and I have been here many a night by ourselves, and besides there is a passage by which we can gain an entrance to the convent—we have only to pull a bell, and some one will come to us at once,” Salome replied confidently. “Then I shall feel easy about you,” her husband said, his face clearing. “But,” he added with a smile, as he touched her coarse, gray serge dress, “when I come back to join you to-morrow I shall want to find my wife in some more fitting garb than this.”