She understood him; he wanted to take an olive-branch of peace from her to his wife. But her proud heart could not yield in a moment. “No—not to-night—I cannot think; I am bewildered—dazed—I must go home. When shall I see you again?” she continued, with nervous incoherence. “We are at the Quirinal,” the young physician answered coldly. “Any message for us can be left there at the office, or we can be found there during the next few weeks.” Madam almost groaned aloud at this significant response. She saw that he—her favorite son—would never be at peace with her until she was willing to be reconciled to his wife; that henceforth they would be as strangers unless she humbled herself to the girl whom she had so deeply injured. Could she yield? Just at that moment the sound of voices reached them, and glancing up, they saw Fred Tillinghast, with Salome upon his arm, entering the conservatory. The light from the chandelier fell strongly upon the fair wife as she crossed the threshold, and truly she was a vision of loveliness to attract the coldest, the most obdurate heart. She looked brighter and happier than madam had ever seen her, and far more beautiful. Her form had developed more perfectly, her cheeks had filled out round and full, her eyes flashed with the fire of health, her every look and gesture betrayed the hope and happiness that filled her heart, while her elegant costume served to enhance her beauty, and was suggestive of the exquisite taste of its wearer. Dr. Winthrop’s face was a study as he caught sight of her, and it told his mother that all his pride, his hopes, his happiness, were centred in her. “My wife—my darling! Is she not lovely?” he breathed. “Surely, mother, you cannot steel your heart against her! Let me take you to her.” “No—no; not now—I must go home—I want to get away by myself,” she faltered, and turning quickly, she walked tremblingly toward the opposite entrance to the conservatory, while Dr. Winthrop, with a sigh of regret over her obstinate pride, made his way to Salome’s side. Just as Madame Winthrop reached the door she encountered Evelyn who had been searching for her. She was very pale and excessively agitated. “Mamma!” she cried breathlessly; “the strangest thing in the world has happened! Salome is here in this house! I have seen her—she is with Fred Tillinghast. She was not killed in that fire after all, and she is the loveliest woman here, not to mention that she has on her person a fortune in diamonds and rich lace.” “Hush, Evelyn, and come with me,” Madame Winthrop said, in a hollow tone, as she took her arm and leaned heavily on it, and the girl knew at once that something dreadful had happened. They left the house at once, and returned directly to their own apartments, whither they found that the Rochesters had already preceded them.