“You have placed me under many obligations already, Dr. Humphries,” replied Alfred, “and you will pardon me if I feel loath to add another to the already long list. I have already formed a plan to place my child in the hands of the Sisters of Charity at Charleston, by whom he will be treated with the greatest kindness, and with but small expense to myself. You must be aware that as a soldier my pay is very small, while I have no opportunity of increasing my salary by engaging in any mercantile pursuit. Such being the case, and as I could not consent to your defraying the expenses of the child, I think it better for him to be where I shall need only a small sum of money to pay all needed charges. At the same time let me assure you of my sincere gratitude for your generous offer.”
“I will not hear of your objections, my good friend,” said the doctor; “it is my desire that you allow me to adopt the boy, if only in part. My daughter will shortly be married, as you are aware, and then I shall be left alone. I possess ample means, and would not accept a dollar in return for the expenses incurred for the child, while his presence will be a source of happiness to me. Already I have formed an attachment for him, and it will only be gratifying my sincere wish if you will give your consent. Believe me, I do not ask it for the purpose of laying you under any obligations, or from any charitable motive, but from an earnest desire for him to remain with me. Let me hope that you will give your consent.”
“I scarcely know what to say,” answered Alfred, “for while I feel a natural delicacy in giving my consent, my heart tells me that the child will be far more comfortable than if he were at the convent.”
“Why then do you not give your consent in the same spirit the offer is made,” observed the doctor. “My dear sir,” he continued, “let no false idea of delicacy prevent you from giving your consent to that, which cannot fail to render your child happy and comfortable.”
“I cannot give a decided answer to-day” said Alfred. “You will give me time to consider your offer—say a week. In the meantime I have no objection to my child remaining with you until my mind is decided upon what course I shall pursue.”
“I suppose I must be satisfied to wait” answered doctor Humphries, “but let me trust your decision will be a favorable one.” As I remarked before, I desire you consent, from none but the purest motives, and I hope you will grant it.
* * * * *
The sad tale with which we have endeavored to entertain the reader is over. To the writer it has been no pleasant task, but the hope that it may prove of some service, and of some interest to the public has cheered us in our work, and disposed us to endure its unpleasantness. Apart from the dearth of literary productions in the South, we have believed that a necessity existed for a work of this nature, and with