“Advertise for some young couple to adopt the child. You will then have an opportunity to select a permanent home for her, and escape the anxiety which her uncertain fate in a charitable institution would entail upon you. I should suppose the mere thought of it would be torture to you.” “It is,” replied the mother, with a quick, indrawn breath, while a nervous shiver ran over her. “I will do it,” she added, the look of care vanishing from her face, which had now become to the high-minded physician more like the face of a beautiful fiend than that of a tender-hearted woman. “I will advertise in the _Transcript_ to-morrow morning, and will offer the sum of five hundred dollars to any respectable couple who will take the babe and promise to rear and educate her as their own. I wonder why I did not think of that plan myself,” she concluded, with a sigh of relief. “I should propose omitting the reward from the advertisement,” observed the doctor, with a slight curl of his lips. “Why so?” “Because in that case you would be sure that whoever applied for her was actuated by a real desire to have the little one; while, if money were offered, cupidity might be the main object in the application.” “Perhaps you are right,” Mrs. Marston observed, thoughtfully; “and yet I believe I shall offer it. I shall, at all events, give that amount to whoever adopts the child.” She then adroitly changed the subject, plying the physician with numerous questions regarding Boston, its attractions and advantages, and so effectually led his mind in another direction, charming him with her rare conversational gifts, her evident culture and familiarity with both America and Europe, that he spent a delightful hour with her, and temporarily forgot the contempt and repulsion which he had previously entertained for her. When the clock upon the mantel struck four, he started up in surprise, at which a sly smile curved his fair entertainer’s red lips, for she knew that she had held him by the magic of her fascinations, as she had meant to do. But she arose also, and cordially extended her hand to him at parting, while she remarked, smilingly: “I have neglected a very important item of business, and came very near forgetting it altogether. If you have, with you, the bill for your services to me, I shall be very happy to settle it.” Dr. Turner flushed, and began to search his pockets, without appearing to notice the proffered hand. At length he drew a slip of paper from his diary, and handed it to her. She smiled again as she noticed the figures upon it; but unlocking a drawer in the table near which they were standing, she took from it an elegant purse, in which there appeared to be a plentiful supply of both gold and paper money. She selected a bill and extended it to him. “I am not able to change that for you, madame,” he said, as he glanced at it and saw that it was a hundred-dollar note.