Suddenly she caught the sound of footsteps, and the rush of silken garments. The next instant a cry of dismay rang through the room, and, turning with a start, Salome saw Sarah Rochester standing before her, blank astonishment and terror written on her face, while her mother stood in the doorway just behind her, looking over her shoulder, and as pale as the white cashmere wrap that enveloped her form. They had just arrived, and had mistaken the direction of the usher at the foot of the stairs, turning to the left instead of the right in their search for the dressing-rooms. “Salome!” burst from the conscience-smitten girl, in a hoarse, unnatural tone, while Mrs. Rochester staggered inside the room and hastily closed the door, her bump of cautiousness asserting itself even in this emergency. Salome wondered to find herself perfectly calm and self-possessed. “Yes,” she said quietly, rising and confronting them, thus fully revealing the elegance and beauty of her costume; “you did not expect to meet me here this evening.” “Heavens, mamma, it is Salome!” cried Miss Rochester, who had not really known whether it was her hated rival or some one who resembled her in a startling degree. “Where did you come from?” gasped Mrs. Rochester, and unable to stand longer upon her trembling feet, she sank into the nearest chair. “From the Hotel Quirinal, a few blocks above here,” Salome calmly responded. Mrs. Rochester made an impatient gesture. “But how—how——” she began with terrified impatience. “How did I manage to escape from Dr. Arnot’s mad-house?—is that what you want to know, Mrs. Rochester?” Salome demanded, meeting the woman’s glance with a stern, direct look. “I can only answer that a merciful Providence delivered me from the horrible fate to which you had doomed me.” “I had doomed you!” repeated Mrs. Rochester, in a shaking voice, great fear contending for the mastery within her. “Yes, madam; it is useless for you to pretend ignorance, or to deny your agency in the matter, for Dr. Arnot confessed it,” Salome asserted. “Dr. Arnot confessed it,” the frightened woman whispered with pale lips. “Mamma, how could it have happened?” Sarah Rochester wildly exclaimed. “How could she have escaped? Who has helped her? And see her! She is dressed like an empress, or rather, like the bride of a prince! That dress is fit for a duchess; those diamonds are almost priceless! What does it mean? Where did you get them?” and she turned savagely upon Salome as she put this last question. “The diamonds were the gift of a friend, who is dead; the dress was purchased at Worth’s in Paris,” the young wife placidly returned. “That is very definite,” sneered Miss Rochester, who was beginning to recover herself somewhat. “You are evidently in a mysterious mood to-night. But I would like a straightforward answer to one question: Who brought you here to Rome?—for surely you did not follow us hither alone.”