“‘I will serve you, Dr. Hunt; take as much blood from my veins as you need.’ He hesitated at first, for she was not quite as robust as he desired; but it was a question of life or death for me; and when she saw me lying there breathing my life away, she begged that he would not delay. He did not. All necessary arrangements were soon made, and that noble girl lay calmly down upon the cot prepared for her; the surgeon opened a vein in one of her arms, another in mine, and, with an instrument made expressly for that purpose, transferred all that he dared of her life-blood to my veins. “I do not wonder that you grow pale, mother,” Dr. Winthrop interposed, as Mrs. Winthrop gasped for breath and seemed greatly excited, “for I was very near death’s door; but the experiment proved a success. That brave girl’s blood was pure and strong, and it sustained and strengthened the little life there was in me; consciousness returned, and with it the ability to take nourishment and I was saved.” “My son! my son! and I never knew it—you never let us know!” exclaimed madam, with white lips, for, undemonstrative as she was, she idolized this son, the firstborn of her twin boys. “No,” he replied; “you were in Europe; it could have done no good to tell you; and before you could possibly have reached me I was out of danger. Of course, as soon as I was able to realize anything, my first thought was one of gratitude and a desire to express it to that heroic girl who had sacrificed so much for me. But she was very ill. She did not rally, nor did her blood replenish as rapidly as Dr. Hunt had hoped and expected. The fact was, he had robbed her of more of her life-current than she could well spare. As soon as she was able to see me, however, I went to her, and instead of finding some common, middle-aged person, as I had expected, I found—Salome—that delicate, refined, and beautiful girl, who was no more fitted than you or Evelyn to be a nurse for the class of people who are carried to such a hospital. But the force of adverse circumstances had driven her to the necessity of doing something for her own support, and she had chosen nursing. “The moment I saw her I was unaccountably drawn to her, for I found her as cultivated in mind as she was beautiful in person. The second time I visited her I knew that I could never love any other woman; and so, when I found that she was likely to be delicate for a long time on account of the sacrifice she had made for me, I resolved to win her for my wife, if I could.” “How could you, Truman, when you were pledged to another?” his mother reproachfully demanded. Dr. Winthrop flushed hotly at this charge, and his brow clouded. “I was not really pledged to Miss Rochester,” he began.