Quickly the intruder glided unseen into the room, and stood at the back of her chair.
He knew she was praying, and almost breathlessly waited several minutes.
At last she raised her face, and while tears trembled on her lashes, she said meekly,—
“I ought not to complain and repine. I will be patient and trust God; for I can afford to suffer all through time, provided I may spend eternity with Christ and Dr. Grey.”
“Oh, Salome! Thank God, we shall be separated neither in time nor in eternity! Dear wanderer, come back to your brother!”
He stepped before her, and involuntarily held out his arms.
She neither screamed nor fainted, but sprang to her feet, and a rapture that beggars all description irradiated her worn, weary, pallid face.
“Is it really you? Oh! a thousand times I have dreamed that I saw you,—stood by you; but when I tried to touch you, there was nothing but empty air! Oh, Dr. Grey!—my Dr. Grey! Am I only dreaming, here in the sunshine, or is it you bodily? Did you care for me a little? Did you come to find me?”
She grasped his arm, swept her hands up and down his sleeve, and then he saw her reel, and shut her eyes, and shudder.
“My poor child, I came to Paris solely to hunt for my wayward Salome, and, thank God! I have found her.”