“Hush!” said Dr. Winthrop again, for she had begun to tremble violently, and grow red and white by turns, “this excites you, and you shall not talk any more about it. I am satisfied with you as you are, Salome; you have told me that you are alone in the world, and so your antecedents cannot affect me in any way since you have assured me that no taint rests upon them. Just see how unnerved you are becoming, my child,” as in her weak state her teeth actually began to chatter. “You are not to talk any more on this subject now; some other time when you are strong and well you shall tell me all the trials and troubles of your past, which you think I ought to know. I am sure, however, that there will be nothing that I could condemn; the only thing I could not forgive would be a wilful deception on your part regarding your affection for me—you are sure that you love me, Salome?” His tone was grave and earnest, and he regarded her searchingly as he asked the question. She lifted her beautiful eyes to his, and he read in them only truth and constancy, even before she answered: “Oh, with my whole soul!” and her fingers closed almost convulsively over the hand that was holding hers. “And you have never loved any one before?” “No—no; never,” she said, with strange vehemence, while another shiver, like a sudden chill, ran over her frame. “That is all I want to know of your past at present,” he said. “And now, when will you be my wife, Salome? You are ill, and though you might perhaps have the best of care here, I do not feel that I can leave my betrothed in a city hospital, when it is in my power to provide her with every comfort. I must leave for New York by the last of this week, and I want to take you with me; so there will have to be a little knot tied right away.” “So soon,” murmured Salome, but with a thrill of joy over the knowledge that he was unwilling to be separated from her. “Yes—so soon,” he repeated, smiling, “as soon as to-morrow, or the next day at the farthest.” “But your family—they do not know—what will they think? How will they receive me?” she stammered, her face crimson, her heart fluttering. “My family can have comparatively little to do with this most vital question of my life,” Dr. Winthrop gravely replied. “They are all in Europe at present—my father and mother, my brother and sister; but when they return, they will assuredly accord my wife a proper reception.” His tone was not reassuring; somehow it seemed to confirm her fears that they were proud, haughty, and exclusive. She looked up into his face, a troubled expression upon hers. “What is it?” he asked kindly. “Dr. Hunt tells me that they are wealthy, aristocratic; I am only a poor nurse—are you sure you will never regret? are you sure——” “I shall never regret choosing you for my wife, Salome,” he answered quietly. “Of what else do you wish me to be sure?” “That—that you—love me!” she whispered, trembling.