What their object could be in thus trying to conceal the fact, she could not understand, but she felt bitterly hurt and humiliated, and her spirit rose in rebellion against such treatment. “It is outrageous!” she said, with blazing eyes and burning cheek, as she sped up to her own room, “and I will not submit to being so ignored. I will do my best to get so strong and well before True gets home, that he will take me into society and introduce me to these very people from whom they seem to be so anxious to keep the truth.” But she was naturally so sweet-tempered, that these feelings were soon resolutely conquered, and she continued to exert herself to be as kind and agreeable as possible to her guests. The next morning she was bitterly disappointed not to receive her usual letter, by the steamer that had just arrived. She feared that Mr. Winthrop must be worse, and her husband had not been able to find time to write as usual. “I shall surely get one by the next steamer,” she said, and then, to divert her mind from her disappointment, she went for a drive and to do a little shopping. She made her purchases, and, after wandering about to look at the attractive display in the store, was slowly making her way to the entrance, where her carriage waited, when some one touched her on the arm. She turned to see who had accosted her thus, and instantly her face blanched. A tall, awkward, powerful-looking man was standing beside her and gazing down upon her, a sinister smile of triumph lighting his coarse but not altogether ill-favored face. “Well, pretty one, you didn’t expect to met an old friend in the midst of this busy city, did you?” he asked, in loud resonant tones, which, it seemed to Salome’s terrified ears, everybody about her must hear. She was so taken aback by this unexpected encounter that she could neither speak nor move for a moment, and the man continued, as if he enjoyed the situation: “’Pears to me you’re a good way from home, Miss Salome, and you’ve been gone quite a while too. You see I heard that you’d skipped, and I rather imagined that you’d turn up some day in one of these big cities.” Salome had begun to recover herself somewhat during this speech, and answered, with cold dignity: “I do not know that I am accountable to you for my movements. Allow me to pass, if you please.” He had placed himself directly in her path, and did not offer to move at her request. “Well, well,” he said, the sinister smile still upon his lips, “this is rather curt treatment for such an old friend as I am; having known you for so many years I naturally feel an interest in you, and you might be a little more civil to me, my dear.” Salome did not deign a reply, but, watching her opportunity, availed herself of a fortunate opening in the crowd of comers and goers, glided swiftly out of the store, and sped across the sidewalk to her carriage.