It was impossible for him to sleep. He tossed on his bed for hours, then arose and resolutely applied himself to hard study until the day dawned. Then he refreshed himself with a cold bath, after which he took a long walk. Upon his return he dallied as long as possible with his breakfast, read his newspaper, smoked a cigar, while it seemed as if the time had never passed so slowly. He wished now that he had not told Salome he would not go to her until he heard from the lawyer, for he might at least have spent a few hours of the morning with her. He was half tempted to go, as it was, but the message might come while he was away, and he was becoming almost feverishly impatient to receive it. It is useless to attempt to describe that long, long day. Truman Winthrop’s powers of endurance were tested to their utmost, for no word came to him until six o’clock that evening. He signed for the dispatch with a hand that trembled so that no one would ever have recognized his signature. With a face as white as his handkerchief and a heavily beating heart he tore open the message and read these words: “No decree granted; unforeseen delay caused by endless red tape. All proceedings stopped as commanded. Utmost secrecy has been observed. “CONRAD CONVERSE.” A long, long sigh of relief burst from the young man, after reading this and for a few moments he was almost unmanned. “She is still mine, thank God!” he murmured, after perusing the message a second time; “I could hardly have borne to have learned that the tie had been annulled, even though she would have given herself unreservedly to me again. Now all will be well—oh, my love, I believe there is a blessed future in store for us.” He put the precious message carefully away to show Salome, then, hastening from the house, he called the first cab he saw and was driven directly to No. 15 Rue de ——. It was after seven when he arrived at Salome’s door and almost dark, but a light was burning in the little parlor, and he knew that someone within was anxiously awaiting his coming. With a full heart and bounding pulses, he sprang from the carriage and ran lightly up the steps, to find the door almost instantly opened. A white robed figure sprang into his arms and was clasped to his breast. “Tell me, True—tell me!” Salome breathed as she twined her arms about his neck and laid her cheek to his. Her own anxiety, and the suspense she had endured had been no less intense than his. “It is all right, darling,” he tenderly replied, “the man has accomplished nothing—we are still one, and nothing can come between us now. Come and let me show you the answer to my message.” He led her into the parlor, where he put the precious message into her trembling hands.