“One would think she had been reared amid all the formal observances of etiquette,” he said to himself, and experienced no little satisfaction over the fact. But he was careful not to allow her to become wearied, and soon took her back to her room. He led her to her easy-chair and gently seated her; then before he released her hand—her left hand—he glanced at the ring which he had so recently placed there. “It is too large, dear,” he said with a smile. “I knew it would be, and chose it so purposely, for I expect that these frail fingers will soon fill out again. In that case, if the ring had fitted now, it would have had to be removed to be enlarged, and that I could not think of allowing, so I have a guard to keep it where it belongs.” As he spoke he quietly slipped another ring upon her finger, and, glancing down, Salome was astonished to behold a magnificent solitaire—a diamond of the purest water, heavily and substantially set. “Oh!” she cried, flushing, “a simple band would have done just as well—this is very costly.” Dr. Winthrop’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, what of that? you had no betrothal ring; you can regard this as such if you like,” he said. “But—something not so expensive would have answered just as well,” she replied. “No, dear, it would not—allow me to be the judge,” he quietly returned. “I consider diamonds none too good for my wife, as I will prove still further to you.” And he drew from his pocket a black morocco case, and opening it he laid it on her lap, adding, “Mrs. Winthrop, accept your husband’s wedding-gift.” Salome was almost dazzled by the gleam of light that shot up into her eyes, for before her there lay, upon a crimson satin cushion, a beautiful pair of diamond earrings and a lace pin in which there were five exquisite stones to match the others. “Why! why!” she cried, astonished, almost dismayed by such lavishness. “Well, do they not please you?” he questioned, secretly amused by her perplexed expression. “They are beautiful, and you are very kind,” she said; “but——” “You are afraid that I am extravagant—that I cannot afford such expenditure—is that it?” he asked. She nodded, smiling a little that he should have read her thoughts so readily. “Do not trouble your pretty head about anything so intensely practical on your wedding-day, Mrs. Winthrop,” he laughingly returned. “The stones are very fine ones, I am willing to admit, but none too fine for you; besides, I feel very rich just now.” “Rich?” she repeated, not quite comprehending the look that he bent upon her. “Yes, I regard myself as the richest man in the United States at this moment, in the possession of the dearest wife that man ever won. Salome, you have not yet greeted your husband,” and he knelt beside her, looking wistfully into her eyes. Oh, how foolish now seemed her ominous fears of the insecurity of her wedding-ring and her future happiness! And she was conscience-smitten for having entertained them for a moment.