“I am satisfied with what you have told me, and the child shall come to us. Alice, she is yours if you so wish,” said the young husband, turning with a fond smile to his fair wife.
“I do wish it, August. I could not give her up now. See! how content she is!” and the sweet woman looked lovingly down at the little face lying so peacefully upon her bosom.
“You are willing to make the gift a legal one, I suppose,” said Mr. Damon, turning again to Mrs. Marston, who, with a look of intense relief upon her face, was closely watching the young couple.
“If you mean by that that I will sign papers to ratify the bond, I must say, No!” the woman replied, with decision.
“Of what use would such papers be,” she went on, “since I could not place my real signature upon them, and the name, by which I am known to you to-day, would amount to nothing, legally. I can only give her to you here, now, in this informal way. Take her—she is yours; and may she be a great comfort to you during your future lives.”
“I see,” replied Mr. Damon, “papers of adoption would amount to nothing;” but, nevertheless, he did not appear very well satisfied with this conclusion.
“And here is the future little Miss Damon’s dowry,” continued Mrs. Marston, with a smile, as she took a roll of bills from the same drawer whence she had paid Dr. Turner, “and I cannot begin to tell you how much of gratitude goes with it.”
“Madame, I cannot accept your money,” August Damon said, flushing hotly, as he drew back from the proffered bribe; for such it seemed to him.
“I am rich; I wish you to have it,” said the lady.
“It is the child that we want, for her own sake, not for what you offer as an inducement to adopt her,” returned the young man, with dignity.