Evelyn hoped that he would take Salome out of their way, so that she and her mother could have full command of his elegant home, and command of his handsome equipages during his absence. But madam evidently had other views upon the subject, and there was a cold glitter in her hard gray eyes as she interposed: “An invalid wife would be rather a hindrance upon such an errand, I should imagine.” Nellie entered the room at that moment to make some inquiry of her young mistress, and Salome excused herself, ostensibly to give her personal attention to the matter, but really to get out of sight and conceal the terrible heart ache that almost unnerved her. “Mother,” Dr. Winthrop said, as the door closed after her. “I cannot take Salome with me; it would be risking too much to allow her to cross the ocean during this cold weather; while, too, I do not know what tidings and duties may await me upon the other side. I do not think it best for either you or Evelyn to go—you could do no possible good even if you found father living. Now I have a favor to ask of you—will you remain here to keep Salome company during my absence, and will you treat her like a daughter and sister? Of course, if you cannot take her into your hearts, it will be best for me to provide you with rooms at either the Windsor or the Hoffman House, until you can have the home on Thirty-fourth Street put in order.” “It will be better for us to remain where we are,” Madame Winthrop returned, with a sudden accession of dignity, “and you may be assured that I shall render all due respect to my son’s wife.” This was a somewhat ambiguous assurance, but he had to content himself with it, though a sigh of regret escaped him as he left the room to seek his wife. She was in neither her boudoir nor her chamber, and he passed on to his room to pack his trunk for the journey thinking he would see her later. Five minutes had not passed when there came a timid knock upon his door, and the next moment Salome glided into the room, looking like some pale, sorrowing spirit. “True! True! you are going to take me. I can be ready in an hour; you must not leave me—I cannot stay here without you!” she panted tremulously, as she seized his arm with both hands, and looked beseechingly into his face. He saw that she was greatly excited. He put down the articles of clothing he was folding, and drew her into his arms. “Salome, my dearest,” he said tenderly, “I wish from the bottom of my heart that I could take you; but I cannot—hush! little woman! this will never do,” as she burst into a passion of tears and hid her streaming eyes upon his breast. He held her there close, until her grief was somewhat spent; then he gently seated her in a chair and knelt upon the floor beside her.