balls,
parties, dinners, concerts, plays, and operas to which she was invited,
only with the hope of meeting again with him whose image had never left
her heart since it first met her vision.

But she never was gratified. She never saw him again in society. John
Scott was unknown to the world of fashion.

The season drew to its close. Constant going out, day after day, and
night after night, would have weakened much stronger health than that
possessed by Salome Levison. And, when added to this was constant longing
expectation, and constant sickening disappointment, we cannot wonder that
our pale heroine grew paler still.

Her chaperone declared herself "worn out" and unable to continue her
arduous duties much longer.

Sir Lemuel Levison was puzzled and anxious.

"I cannot see what has come to my girl! She goes out all the time; she
accepts every invitation; gives herself no rest; yet never seems to enjoy
herself anywhere. She grows paler and thinner every day, and there is a
hectic spot on her cheeks and a feverish brightness in her eyes that I do
not like at all. I have seen them before, and I have too much reason to
know them! I do believe she is fretting herself into a decline for her
convent. I do believe she only goes out as a sort of penance for her
imaginary sins! Poor child! I must really have a talk and come to an
understanding with her!" said the anxious father to himself, as he mused
on the condition of his daughter.

CHAPTER IV.

SALOME'S CHOICE.

Sir Lemuel Levison was taking his breakfast in bed. The London season was
near its close. Parliament sat late at night, and often all night. Sir
Lemuel, a punctual and diligent member of the House, seldom returned home
before the early dawn.

So Sir Lemuel was taking his breakfast in bed, and "small blame to him."

It was a very simple breakfast of black tea, dry toast, fresh eggs, and
cold ham.

"Take these things away now, Potts. Go and find Miss Levison's maid, and
tell her to let her mistress know that I wish to see my daughter here,
before she goes out," said the banker, as he drained and set down his
tea-cup.

"Yes, Sir Lemuel," respectfully answered the servant, as he lifted the
breakfast tray and bore it off.

"Umph! that is the manner in which I have to manoeuvre for an interview
with my own daughter, before I can get one," grumbled the banker, as he
lay back on his pillow and took up a newspaper from the counter-pane.

Before he