hich never wandered from the face so dear to him, and moved his
lips in an inaudible prayer for the peace and welfare of the lonely
waif whom Providence or fate had brought into his path, to evoke all
the tenderness latent in his sturdy, manly nature.

In the twinkling of an eye, Salome had learned the whole truth and
standing there, she staggered and grasped the doorway for support,
wishing that the heavens and earth would pass away--that death might
smite her, and end the agony that never could be patiently endured.

Recently she had tutored herself to bear the loss of his love and the
deprivation of his caresses,--she had mapped out a future in which her
lot was one of loneliness,--but through all the network of coming
years there ran like a golden cord binding their destinies the
precious hope that at least Dr. Grey would die as he had lived
hitherto,--without giving to any woman the coveted place in his heart,
where the orphan would sooner have reigned than upon the proudest
throne in Europe.

She had prayed that, with this assurance, God would help her to be
contented--would enable her to make her life useful and pure, and,
like Dr. Grey's, a blessing to those about her.

It had never occurred to her that the man whom she reverenced above
all things human or divine, and whose exalted ideal of feminine
perfection soared as far above her as the angels in Lebrun's "Stoning
of St. Stephen" soared above the sinning multitude below them--that
the man whose fastidiousness concerning womanly character and
deportment seemed exaggerated and almost morbid, could admire or
defend, much less love that gray-haired widow, whom the world
pronounced either a lunatic, or a scoffing, misanthropic infidel.

The discovery was so unexpected, so startling, that it partially
stunned her; and, like one addicted to somnambulism, she softly
crossed the room and stood behind Dr. Grey's chair.

He had taken Mrs. Gerome's hand to examine her pulse, and retained it
in his, looking fondly at the dainty moulding of the fingers and the
exquisite whiteness of the smooth skin. How long she stood there
Salome never knew, for paralysis seemed creeping, numb and cold, over
her heart and brain.

Dr. Grey saw that his exhausted patient was asleep, and knew that the
opiate he had administered in the wine would not relinquish its hold
until morning; and when her breathing became more quiet and regular he
bent his head and softly kissed the hand tha