gratification of a whim, prompted solely by vanity. How
worthless are the brief hollow plaudits of the world (which will
regard you merely as the toy of an hour), in comparison with the
affection and society of your own family? Here, in your home, how
useful, how contented you might be!"

Her only reply was a hasty, imperious wave of the hand, and a long
silence followed.

In the bright morning light that streamed in through the tendrils of
honeysuckle clambering around the window, Dr. Grey looked searchingly
at the orphan, and could scarcely realize that this pale, proud,
pain-stricken face, was the same rosy round one, fair and fearless,
that had first met his gaze under the pearly apple-blossoms.

Then, pink flesh, hazel eyes, vermillioned lips, and glossy hair had
preferred incontestable claims to beauty; now, an artist would have
curiously traced the fine lines and curves daintily drawn about eyes,
brow and mouth, by the stylus of care, of hopelessness, of wild bursts
of passion. Her figure retained its rounded symmetry, but the
countenance traitorously revealed the struggles, the bitter
disappointments, the vindictive jealousy, and rudely-smitten and
blasted hopes, that had robbed her days of peace and her nights of
sleep.

Until this moment, Dr. Grey had not fully appreciated the change
that had been wrought by two tedious years, and as he scrutinized
the sadly sharpened and shadowed features, a painful feeling of
humiliation and almost of self-reproach sprang from the consciousness
that his inability to reciprocate her devoted love had brought down
this premature blight upon a young and whilom happy, careless
girl,--transforming her into a reckless, hardened, hopeless woman.

While his inexorable conscience fully exonerated him from censure, his
generous heart ached in sympathy for hers, and his chivalric
tenderness for all things weaker than himself, bled at the reflection
that he had been unintentionally instrumental in darkening a woman's
life.

But hope,--beautiful, blue-eyed, sunny-browed hope,--whispered that
this was a fleeting youthful fancy; and that absence and time would
dispel the temporary gloom that now lay on her heart, like some dense
cold vapor which would grow silvery, and melt in morning sunshine.

Under his steady gaze the blood rose slowly to its old signal-station
on her cheeks, and she put up one hand to shield its scarlet banners.

"Salome, will you tell me when and where you i