ad sank upon her bosom, but still she did not answer. How could she
tell him that she cared only for a man who did not care for her.

"This is unbearable!" burst forth the banker. "Here you are with every
indulgence that affection can yield you, every luxury that money can give
you, and yet you are not well nor content. What ails you girl? Are you
pining after your convent? Set fire to it. Are you pining after your
convent, I ask you, Salome?"

"Indeed, _no_, papa!"

"What!" demanded her father, starting up at her reply and gazing with
doubt into her pale, earnest face.

"I am not thinking of the convent, dear papa. Indeed I had forgotten all
about it. If it will give you any pleasure to hear it, dear papa, let me
tell you that I have quite given up all ideas of entering a convent,"
added Salome, with a pensive smile.

"What!" exclaimed the banker, starting up in a sitting position and
bending toward his daughter as if in doubt whether to gaze her through
and through or to catch her to his heart.

She met that look and understood her father's love for his only child,
and reproached herself for having been so blind to it for these three
years past.

"Dearest papa," she said, with tender earnestness, "I have no longer the
slightest wish or intention of ever entering a convent. And I wonder now
how I ever could have been so insane as to think I could live all my life
contentedly in a convent, or so selfish as to forget that by doing so I
should leave my father alone in the world!"

"My darling child! Is this truly so? Are these really your thoughts?"
exclaimed the banker, with such a look of delight as Salome had not
believed possible in so aged a face.

"Really and truly, my father! And does it give you so much pleasure?"

"Pleasure my daughter! It gives me the greatest joy! Hand me my
dressing-gown, my dear. I must get up. I cannot lie here any longer.
You have put new life into me!"

Salome handed him his gown, socks, and slippers, and then went to clear
off his big easy-chair, which was burdened with his yesterday's dress
suit, and draw it up for his use.

And in a few minutes the banker, wrapped in his gown, with his feet in
his slippers, was seated comfortably in his arm-chair.

"Now, shall I ring for Potts, papa, dear?" inquired Salome.

"No, my love, I don't want Potts, I want you. Sit down near me, Salome,
and listen to me. You have made me very happy this morning, my darling;
and now I wish to ma