“I beg your pardon, madame,” he said, with visible confusion, but in a grave, respectful tone; “but your very extraordinary preposition must be my apology for my unjust and offensive suspicion.” For a moment the lady regarded him gravely, but with a little gleam of triumph in her dark eyes; then with a shrug of her shapely shoulders, she replied: “Perhaps it was but natural; let it pass. I became a lawful wife, as you have seen, nearly a year ago, and my child has had honorable birth: but, for reasons which I cannot explain to you, I can never acknowledge her, and it becomes necessary for me to make some other provision for her.” “But it is such an unnatural thing to do,” persisted the doctor, with a deprecating gesture. “Granted; but—it cannot be helped,” replied the mother, firmly, an inflexible purpose written on her fair young face. “Allow me to inquire if your husband is living?” Dr. Turner asked, after a moment of silence. “Excuse me; I cannot answer that question,” replied his companion with pale, compressed lips. “Ah! there has been some trouble and a separation, perhaps,” thought the doctor; then he asked: “Do you think that he would uphold you in thus sacrificing your little one—his little one, to your selfish purpose—to abandon her, as you propose, to the doubtful charity of a cold world.” An icy shiver seemed to run throughout the woman’s frame at this. She shifted uneasily in her chair, her white lids quivered, her hands were locked in a rigid, painful clasp. “I tell you there are circumstances which make it absolutely necessary for me to give her away,” she said, in a strained, unnatural voice, after an evident effort at self-control. “My husband would—is as helpless in the matter as myself.” “I can conceive of no circumstances which should make the well-being of your child of secondary importance, especially since you have assured me that you are a lawful wife, and it is evident that you have abundant means at your command. She is your own flesh and blood, and it becomes your duty, as a mother, to give her a mother’s love and care. I care not what fancied or real obstacle stands in the way, it should be resolutely swept aside for the sake of both duty and humanity,” Dr. Turner argued, with impressive earnestness. “You simply do not know anything about the matter, sir,” retorted his patient, with an angry flash in her eyes, “and, if you please, we will not discuss that point any further.” Dr. Turner bowed a cold assent; then, as he returned the wedding-ring, which he had retained until now, he remarked: “The name you have given here does not correspond with your husband’s initials upon this ring.” The lady’s lips curled in a little scornful smile. “Did you imagine that I would use my true name in such a venture as this?” she asked. “But that is neither here nor there,” she added, with an impatient toss of her head. “Do you know of any institution in this city where my child would be received?”