at the door of the
Asylum, and Salome and Dr. Grey went up to the "Infirmary," where the
faithful matron sat beside one of the little beds, watching the deep
slumber of the flushed and exhausted sleeper.

The disease had almost spent its force, the crisis was passed, and the
attending physician had pronounced the patient much better; still,
when Salome stooped to kiss her sister, the matron held her back,
assuring her that perfect quiet was essential for her recovery.
Kneeling there beside the motherless girl, Salome noted the changes
that time and suffering had wrought on the delicate features; and, as
she listened to the quick, irregular breathing, the fountain of
tenderness was suddenly unsealed in her own nature, and she put out
her arms, yearning to clasp Jessie to her heart. So strong were her
emotions, so keen was her regret for past indifference and neglect,
that she lost all self-control, and, unable to check her passionate
weeping, Dr. Grey led her from the room, promising to bring her again
when the sick child was sufficiently strong to bear the interview.

During the ride homeward he made no effort to divert her thoughts or
relieve her anxiety, knowing that although severe it was a healthful
regimen for her long indurated heart, and was the _renaissance_ of her
better nature.

When they arrived at home, the moon was shining bright and full, and,
as they waited on the gallery for a servant to open the door, Dr. Grey
drew most favorable auguries from the chastened, blanched face, with
its humbled and grieved expression.

"Salome, I shall for the present keep Stanley here; and, until I can
make some satisfactory arrangement with reference to his education, I
would be glad to have you hear his recitations every day. Have you the
requisite leisure to superintend his lessons?"

"Yes, sir. I have not deserved this kindness from you, Dr. Grey; but I
thank you, from my inmost heart. You are good enough to forgive my
many offences, and I shall not soon forget it."

"Salome, you owe me no gratitude, but there is much for which you
should go down on your knees and fervently thank your merciful God. My
young friend, will you do this?"

He extended his hand, and, unable to utter a word, Salome gave him
hers, for a second only, and hastened to her own room, where Stanley's
fair face lay in the golden moonlight, radiant with happy dreams of
white pigeons and pet lambs.

CHAPTER IV.

"Don't strangle me, J