“This,” said Georgiana Halstead, seizing the doll, which gave out a little, indeed, sullen shriek, as her hand pressed its bosom, “this lovely little lady in full ball costume, with a flounce of real lace, and this heavenly sash. Well, really, sir, I should think—let me see,” here Georgiana cast a side glance at her customer—“I should think, twenty, or—yes, twenty-five dollars—thirty, say——” The nature of the man arose above his sorrow. He cast a withering glance at the fair young face turned upon him, and withdrew his hand from under his vest, where he had half thrust it in search of his pocket-book. “Thirty dollars for that thing?” he growled. “For this thing! this loveliest of lovely little ladies! Why, one blink of her eyes is worth the money. Just see her fall asleep,” cried Georgiana; and with a magic twist of her finger, the doll closed its blue eyes in serene slumber. “Thirty dollars—I am astonished at myself for asking so little.” A grim smile stole over those thin lips, and the old man’s eyes sparkled through their gloom, as he looked on that cheerful face dimpling with mischief, turned now upon him, now upon the doll. The scarlet ball-dress, in which the mimic fashionable was arrayed, sent a flush down the white arm that held it up for admiration, and from which the velvet sleeve had fallen loosely back, revealing a bracelet of pure gold, formed of two serpents twined together, and biting each other. The old man’s face became suddenly of a grayish white as he saw the ornament. “Where—where did you get that?” he questioned, in a low, hoarse voice, touching the bracelet with his finger. “That, sir,” cried Georgiana, lowering the doll till her sleeve fell to its place again, and speaking with sudden dignity, “why should you ask?” “Because I have seen one like it before, and only one. Do not be angry, young lady. I have no wish to be rude; but tell me where you got those twisted snakes?” “They belong to Mrs. Halstead, my father’s stepmother,” answered Georgiana, impressed by the intense earnestness of the man. “Mrs. Halstead! I do not know the name; but I should like those serpents. If this Mrs. Halstead is one of your benevolent women, who are willing to fling their ornaments into the national fund, I will pay her handsomely for them—very handsomely.” “Of course, grandmamma is as charitable as the day is long, and would give almost any thing to help those who suffer for our country; but I don’t know about these pretty reptiles. She may have a fondness for them—some association, as Miss Eliza says.” “No, no, that cannot be! they have no connection with her. She must have bought them at some pawnbroker’s sale. They can have no value to her, except as a curiosity. Ask her if she will sell them for ten times their weight in gold!” “I—I will ask her, if you wish it so much; but she will think it strange.”