But when the coupé came to the door, in obedience to Salome’s command, Miss Winthrop haughtily informed her that she should not drive; so the young wife, rather than have the man feel that he had had his trouble for nothing, quietly donned her wraps and went herself, although she felt far from equal to the effort after the contest with her sister-in-law, and there was a look of care on her fair face that Dr. Winthrop would not have liked to see. But she felt better on her return, and her heart was lightened somewhat by finding awaiting her a cable message, telling of her husband’s safe arrival in Liverpool, and stating that a letter was on its way to her. The daily bulletins from Norman Winthrop, previous to this, had not been of an encouraging nature, for Mr. Winthrop was reported as being very low. Every steamer after that brought letters from her dear one, and Salome’s spirits arose. “I will not be disheartened,” she said, after reading one of those precious missives; “I will do my very best, try to be patient, and these trials will all be over in a little while.” In spite of the care which had fallen so heavily upon her since Dr. Winthrop’s departure, and the continual irritation and anxiety to which she was subjected, she was growing stronger with every day and gaining flesh, and even a little color, which, previous to her illness, had never been natural to her. But with all her sweetness and self-denial—with all her patience and ceaseless efforts to please—she found it impossible to win the slightest affection from either Madame Winthrop or her daughter. Several times they had attempted to “pump her,” as Evelyn termed it, regarding her family and her previous life; but Salome, feeling that her first confidence should be given to her husband, adroitly evaded their questions and they learned nothing. This so angered them that they neglected no opportunity to make her feel that they regarded her as an intruder in the family. They never accompanied her anywhere in public—they never invited her to ride, or to go anywhere with them. If they had callers, she was never asked to meet them, nor did they introduce her to any one. One day, not knowing that Evelyn had a friend calling upon her, Salome chanced to go into the drawing-room to get a book which she had left there; but on perceiving there was a stranger there, she stopped on the threshold and excused herself. Evelyn simply stared at her with a frown, and she retreated, feeling like an intruder in her own home. She heard the visitor exclaim, as she passed out of sight: “Why, Evelyn, who was that beautiful girl?” Miss Winthrop made some low-voiced reply, which Salome did not catch, and the other voice responded, in a tone of surprise: “What a pity! She is far too pretty to be a common seamstress!” and Salome knew that her position was repudiated—that people who called upon her husband’s mother and sister were not allowed to know that Dr. Winthrop had a wife.