“Yes; I noticed a resemblance to the Julia-Agrippina, and the likeness must be remarkable, since it impressed us simultaneously. Salome’s brow is fuller, and her chin more prominent than that of the Roman woman we admired so ardently; and, besides, I should judge that she had quite as much or more will than the daughter of Germanicus, for her lips are thinner.”
Dr. Grey changed the topic of conversation, and Miss Dexter courteously followed the cue.
The moon was high in heaven when Salome and her brother came up the avenue; and, observing that the lights were extinguished in the front rooms, she surmised that the new-comers had retired very early, in consequence of fatigue from their long journey. Sending Stanley to bed, she sat down on the 161 steps to rest a few moments before going upstairs, and began to fan herself with her straw hat.
She had grown very calm, and almost ashamed of her passionate ebullition in the presence of strangers; and numerous good resolutions were sending out fibrous roots in her heart. How long she rested there she knew not, and started when Dr. Grey said, in a subdued voice,—
“Salome, I am waiting to lock the door, and should be glad if you will come in now, or be careful to secure the inner bolt whenever you do. As I always shut up the house, I was afraid you might not think of it; and burglaries are becoming alarmingly frequent.”
She rose instantly, and entered the hall.
“What time is it?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
“Is it possible? You know, sir, that the evenings are very short now.”
“Yes.”