"Because I have always regarded the crescents as paste, and--and I cannot quite divest myself of the idea even now, in spite of your assurance," she answered, with a clouded brow. Her companion laughed aloud. "I will be responsible for their genuineness," he returned. "See!" he added, drawing a card from his pocket and writing rapidly upon it. "I will give you this to ease your conscience." She took it and read: "I, the undersigned, purchase of Mrs. Bently a pair of crescent ornaments which she affirms are paste, but which I am content to accept as genuine, for the sum agreed upon." The price was carried out in figures, and his full name signed underneath. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "You are determined to befriend me, in spite of my scruples," she murmured, brokenly. "I would gladly do a hundred-fold more for you," he replied, with tender earnestness. "Will you let me have the crescents now?" "Yes, and thank you more than I can express," she answered, with drooping lids. He drew forth a wallet filled with bills, and began to count out the sum he had named. "Wait a moment," said Mrs. Bently, the color mounting to her temples; "I have a handsome case for the ornaments. I will go and get it for you." She turned suddenly and vanished from his presence, before he could tell her he would rather take them in the little box. "How sensitive the poor child is!" he murmured, with a tender smile; "she could not even bear to see me count out the money." Mrs. Bently soon returned with a handsome morocco case in her hands. "They look better in this," she remarked, as she lifted the lid, and revealed the crescents lying upon a rich black velvet bed; "and," with a nervous little laugh, "now that I know they are genuine, I really am very loath to part with them, in spite of my necessity." She closed the case with a snap, and passed it to him, and he slipped a roll of crisp bank-bills into her hand. "This arrangement will smooth all difficulties, I trust," he said, "and now," with a slight tremor in his voice, "I have a special favor to ask. May I come to see you at No. 10 ---- street?" "Certainly, you may, Mr. Cutler," she replied, lifting a bright, eager face to him, "and I assure you I shall have a warmer welcome for no one else. I cannot tell you how grateful I am--" "Do not speak of that," he interposed. "I am amply repaid for anything I have done by seeing the look of trouble gone from your face. I must bid you good morning now, but I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon you very soon." He held out his hand to her, and she laid hers within it. He was surprised to find it icy cold and trembling, but he attributed it to emotion caused by the parting with him. "Then I shall only say _au revoir_," she responded, smiling.