himself to pursue this line of argument. Although the most pregnant part of Mr. Gordon's errand had yet to be disclosed, it seemed to him that he would very likely presently be the arbiter of her destiny. "You will be able," Mr. Gordon had said, "to make clear to her the effect of her consent or refusal upon her destiny and the destiny of her child." Whatever the conditions, it would be his duty to urge her to accept the offer that would be made to her; otherwise he might be condemning her to a course of life he shuddered to contemplate. The responsibility would be too solemn for mere sentimental considerations. These were the thoughts that flashed through his mind in the momentary pause before Mr. Gordon spoke again.
"I believe," his visitor then said, "that I am in possession of the facts relating to Mrs. Turner's circumstances"--he reverted to the name by which she was generally known--"but you will corroborate them perhaps. She is in want."
"She is in the lowest depths of poverty."
"Unless she pays the arrears of rent she will be turned into the streets to-morrow."
"That is the landlord's determination."
"She would have been turned out to-day but for your intervention."
"You are well informed, I see," observed Dr. Spenlove, rather nettled.
"I have conversed with the landlord and with others concerning her. She lives among the poor, who have troubles enough of their own to grapple with, and are unable, even if they were inclined, to render her the assistance of which she stands in need. She seems to have kept herself aloof from them, for which I commend her. Now, Dr. Spenlove, I will have no specter of shame and degradation to haunt her life and mine. Her past must be buried, and the grave must never be opened. To that I am resolved, and no power on earth can turn me from it."
"But her child," faltered Dr. Spenlove.
"She will have no child. She must part with her, and the parting must be final and irrevocable. The steps that I shall take to this end shall be so effectual that if by chance in the future they should happen to meet she shall not recognize her. I propose to have the child placed with a family who will adopt her as a child of their own; there will be little difficulty in finding such a family, to the head of which a sum of one hundred pounds will be paid yearly for maintenance. I name no limit as to time. So long as the child lives so long will the payment be made through my lawyers. Should the child die before she reaches the age of twenty-one the sum of five hundred pounds will be paid to the people who undertake the charge; they will know nothing of me or of the mother; our names will not be divulged to them, and they will not be able to trace us. Should they evince a disposition to be troublesome in this respect the child will be taken from them by my lawyers, and another home provided for her. A hundred pounds a year is a liberal sum, and there will not be the least difficulty in carrying out the proposed arrangement. In proof that I desire the child to have every chance of leading a happy life I will engage to give her a marriage portion of five hundred pounds. Judge for yourself whether a woman in Mrs. Turner's circumstances would be acting wisely in rejecting my proposition."
"You have spoken in a most generous spirit," said Dr. Spenlove slowly, "so far as money goes, but you seem not to have taken into consideration a mother's feelings."
"I have not taken them into consideration; they are not part of my plan. I have looked at the matter only from two points of view--the worldly aspect of it, and my desire to carry out my personal wishes. I decline to regard it or to argue upon it from the point of view of a mother's feelings. I ask you to judge of it as a man of the world."
"Of which," said Dr. Spenlove, "as I have hinted to you, I am a poor example. Do you expect me to provide for the babe such a home as that you have described?"
"Not at all. It is my business to carry out my plan if she accepts the conditions."
"What, then, do you wish me to do?"
"To lay my proposition before her as nearly as possible in my own words; to impress upon her that it is her duty to agree to it for her own sake and for the sake of the child."
"Why not do so yourself?"
"I have not seen her. I will not see her while she holds in her arms her burden of shame. She shall come to me free and unencumbered, or she shall not come at all. I could not speak to her as I have spoken to you; I should not be able to command myself. She would plead to me, and I should answer her in bitterness and anger. Such a scene would set me so strongly against her that I should immediately relinquish my purpose. You can reason with her; you can show her the path in which her duty clearly lies. I do not deny that she is called upon to make a sacrifice, but it is a sacrifice which will lead to good, it is a sacrifice which every right-minded man would urge her to make. Indifferent man of the world as you proclaim yourself to be you cannot be blind to the almost sure fate in store for her in the position in which she is placed. Your experiences must have made you acquainted with the stories of women who have fallen as she has fallen, and you will know how many of them were raised from the depths, and how many of them fell into deeper shame. Dr. Spenlove, I have entirely finished what I came here to say."
"Before I undertake to do what you require of me," said Dr. Spenlove, who by this time understood the man he had to deal with, "I must ask you a question or two."
"If they relate to the present business," responded Mr. Gordon, "I will answer them."
"Failing me, will you employ some other person to act as your envoy to Mrs. Turner?"
"I shall employ no other, for the reason that there is no other whose counsel would be likely to influence her. And for another reason--I have disclosed to you what I will disclose to no other person."
"Would you leave her as she is?"
"I would leave her as she is. Early in the morning I should take my departure, and she would have to face the future unaided by me."
"If she will not listen to me, if she will not make the sacrifice, you will surely give her, out of your abundance, some little assistance to help her along?"
"Out of my abundance," replied Mr. Gordon sternly, "I will give her nothing, not the smallest coin. Make your mind easy upon one point, Dr. Spenlove. So far as a practical man like myself is likely to go I will do what I can to make her happy. She will live in a respectable atmosphere, she will be surrounded by respectable people, she will have all the comforts that money can purchase, and I shall never utter to her a word of reproach. Her past will be as dead to me as if it had never been."
Dr. Spenlove rose. "It is your desire that I shall go to her
to-night?"
"It is. The matter must be settled without delay."
"If she asks for time to reflect----"
"I must have the answer to-night, yea or nay."
There was no more to be said. The man who had been wronged and deceived, and who had made an offer so strange and generous and cruel, was fixed and implacable.
"I may be absent for some time," said Dr. Spenlove. "Where shall I see you upon my return?"
"Here, if you will allow me to stay."
"You are welcome. My landlady will make you a bed on the sofa."
"Thank you; I need no bed. I can employ myself while you are away."
Dr. Spenlove
