“Something told me I could not do Everard a worse turn than to tie him fast in matrimony. You were not his stamp; not the one to hold him long; he would repent the act sooner or later, while his father would make life a burden to him when he came to know it. So I was particular to leave nothing undone which would make the marriage valid, and when you were man and wife I felt perfectly happy, until,—I began to get interested in you myself, and then I sometimes wished my tongue had been cut out, for I’ll be hanged if I don’t admire you more than any woman I ever saw, notwithstanding that I know you like a book.” “Spare your compliments and keep to your story, and tell me why you have made no effort to see Rossie all these years,” Josephine said, coldly; and he replied, “Reason enough. I was not particularly interested in her then, and did not think an acquaintance with her would pay; but later she has come before me in the character of an heiress, which makes her a very different creature; you see, don’t you?” “Yes, I see. Your sudden interest in her is wholly mercenary. Suppose I should betray you? Are you not afraid of it?” Josephine asked, and in her blue eyes there was a look which the doctor did not quite like; but he affected not to see it, and replied, “Afraid? No, because telling is a game two can play at as well as one. You cannot afford to quarrel with me, Joe.” The man’s face was exceedingly insolent and disagreeable in its expression for a moment, while he glanced sidewise at his companion, who made no sign that she heard him, but seemed wholly intent upon the game, which was now growing very exciting. But when the expression changed, and he continued in his most winning tone: “No, we must stick to each other, and whatever good comes to me I’ll share religiously with you;” she began faintly to comprehend him, and turning her eyes upon him, said: “Well, to return to first principles, Rossie is interesting to you now because she has money; but she will not use it even for herself.” “No!”—and the doctor mused thoughtfully a moment; then he said: “I like the girl’s appearance, upon my soul I do! She is a pretty little filly, and if I’d met her years ago she might have made a man of me, but it is too late now; I am sold to Satan, body and soul, and must do his bidding. How much is she worth, do you think?” “The Forrest estate is variously estimated from two hundred to five hundred thousand. I should say, perhaps, two hundred and fifty,” Josephine replied, and the doctor continued: “And she will not touch the principal on account of some queer notions she has of giving it back to Forrest when she is twenty-one?” “No, she will not touch the principal, nor more of the interest than is absolutely necessary,” Josephine said, and for a few moments the doctor was silent and seemed to be intently thinking. When he spoke again he said: