She had longed to know something definite about them, but as he seemed somewhat reticent regarding them, she had not, until now, questioned him. A peculiar expression flashed over Dr. Winthrop’s face at his wife’s request. “My mother is a very handsome, dignified woman, a little over fifty years of age, although no one would imagine her to be over forty. She traces her lineage to one of the old Colonial families, and is happy in being one of the leaders in that charmed circle known as ‘New York’s Four Hundred.’ My sister is, if possible, more beautiful, more stately, and more proud than my mother.” Salome looked troubled at this brief but ominously suggestive description, while she had never heard her husband assume such a cynical tone before. “Do they know——” she began timidly. “That I am married? Yes; I cabled to them immediately after the ceremony, and wrote them briefly later,” he replied. “Have you heard from them since?” breathed Salome. “Not in response to those communications.” “Will they be pleased—will they—love me?” the young wife wistfully asked, drawing a little nearer to him, as if seeking protection against some approaching evil. Dr. Winthrop’s brow clouded. He had known from the first that his family would be anything but pleased with his hasty and romantic marriage. Indeed the fact that they had entirely ignored both his cable message and letter proved this. He was confident that his mother and sister were now hastening home for no other purpose than to denounce him for his rashness, if they should find that he had chosen a wife outside the pale of their charmed circle, for many years ago a far different choice had been made for him;—but of this more later. “True, tell me—will they be pleased to find that you have a wife?” Salome said again, as he did not answer her at once. “I hope so, my Peace,” he gently returned, but she was far from feeling reassured. Something seemed to warn her that the coming of these two women would cast a shadow, if not a fatal blight, upon her happiness, and she dreaded their arrival inexpressibly. She said nothing, however—she would not let her husband see that she feared to meet his friends; but her dread was not lessened when the next morning he began to question her regarding the condition of her wardrobe. He smiled when she named over what she had. “Little woman, this will never do at all,” he said; “we must go to-day and select something more suitable for Mrs. Winthrop, of Madison avenue.” A morning’s vigorous shopping under the skilful eyes of Dr. Winthrop wrought a wonderful addition to her wardrobe. Dainty costumes, laces, gloves, and every luxury of the toilet were selected as well as several pieces of rare jewelry. “Is there anything else, dear, that you can think of?” Dr. Winthrop questioned, as they were leaving Tiffany’s. “Do not ask me, Dr. True,” Salome answered, flushing, “for I feel oppressed now with what you have expended upon me.”