es whom Christ rebuked; and manifests itself in the middle of
the nineteenth century by the voracity with which merely material
phenomena are seized as unmistakable indications of preternatural
agencies. The innate leaven of superstition triumphs over common sense
and scientific realism, and men and women are awed by coincidences
that reason scouts, but credulity receives with open arms. Salome, I
regret exceedingly that I am forced to trouble you, but there are some
important letters which I wish to mail to-day, and you will greatly
oblige me by acting as amanuensis while I dictate. My present disabled
condition must apologize for the heavy tax which I am imposing upon
your patience and industry. Will you come to the library?"

She made no protestations of willingness to serve him, and confessed
no delight at the prospect of being useful, but merely bowed and
smiled, with an expression in her eyes that puzzled him.

Seated at the library-table, and writing down the sentences that he
dictated while pacing the floor, Salome passed one of the happiest
hours of her life; for it brought the blessed assurance that, for the
present at least, he acknowledged his need of her.

One of the letters was addressed to Mr. Gerard Granville, an _attache_
of the American legation at Paris, and referred principally to
financial affairs; and the other, directed to Muriel Manton, contained
an urgent request that she and her governess would leave New York as
speedily as possible and become inmates of his sister's house.

When she had folded the letters and sealed them with his favorite
emerald signet,--bearing the words, "_Frangas non Flectes_,"--Salome
looked up, and asked,--

"How old is your ward, Miss Manton?"

"About your age,--though she looks much more childish."

"Pretty, of course?"

"Why 'of course'?"

"Simply because in novels they are always painted as pretty as
Persephone; and the only wards I ever knew happen to be fictitious
characters."

"Novels are by no means infallible mirrors of nature, and few wards
are as attractive as my black-eyed pet. Muriel will be very handsome,
I hope, when she is grown; but now she impresses me as merely sweet,
piquant, and pretty."

"Did you know her prior to your recent visit?"

"Yes; her father's house was my home whenever I chanced to be in New
York, and I have seen her, occasionally, since she was a little girl.
For your sake, as well as mine, I am glad she will reside here,