She was quivering in every nerve, but she read the blessed assurance that she was still Truman Winthrop’s wife—that the sacred bond which had united them had not been annulled and a great joy and unutterable thankfulness flooded her heart. She raised her illumined face to her husband, and he opened his arms to her. Again she sprang into them, a sob of thankfulness bursting from her. “All mine! all mine!” he murmured fondly. “I am so glad, so happy!” she whispered, with her tremulous lips laid against his cheek. * * * * * Three weeks later, in an elegant apartment of one of the finest hotels of Paris, a gentleman and lady might have been seen sitting opposite each other at a daintily spread breakfast-table. On the hotel register in the office below, any one might have read the entry: “Truman H. Winthrop, M. D., New York City, U. S. A.; Mrs. Truman H. Winthrop and maid.” After their reunion, Dr. Winthrop would not allow Salome to remain longer in the little house under the shadow of the convent walls, so it was given up, and taking Harriet with them, as Salome’s maid, they went for a time to one of the hotels of the city. “Well, my Peace, we have been here three weeks, and very happy weeks they have been, too; but is it not about time that we began to plan a little for the future?” Dr. Winthrop remarked, as he pushed his chair back from the table, while his eyes rested with a look of fond admiration upon the lovely figure opposite him. Salome was exquisitely attired in the palest of pale pink morning robes, richly trimmed with white lace, and the dress was extremely becoming to her clear, cream-like complexion, dark hair and eyes. She had changed much during these three weeks. Her face was radiant with happiness, her eyes bright with hope, her manner animated, and even gay. She was wholly unlike the grave, demure little body, who had been known as Sister Angela, and no one would have dreamed that she could have been the same person. The young wife flushed under her husband’s glance. She knew that she was beautiful, and she had begun to take pleasure in the fact, because of his evident delight in it. “I do not want to plan for anything,” she smilingly returned. “I am too happy in just being with you, to take much thought for the future.” “It is very pleasant to hear you say that, my darling,” Dr. Winthrop replied, as he came behind her and laid his hand fondly upon her glossy head, “nevertheless, there are some matters which must be attended to without delay. My mother and sister must be notified of what has occurred; Miss Rochester must learn that her schemes have failed, and then we must go home to attend to securing what rightly belongs to us; that unprincipled girl shall no longer masquerade in the character and under the name that rightly belongs to you.”