had promised to send her word when she was taken ill, so that she
might send for me, and make her arrangements for the reception of
the child, which was to be transported secretly into her bedroom.

I was so astonished that I was for a time unable to a speak. The
deep plot itself, the proposition made to me to assist her, and the
cool manner of the lady herself, fairly staggered me. At length,
speaking as calmly as I could, I tried to convince Mrs. Quintin of
the enormity of the crime she intended to commit, telling her that,
if she wished to adopt a child, she would find it quite an easy
matter to do so without taking any such course as she evidently
intended; and, after arguing for some time, she seemed to yield a
little to reason, and promised to do nothing rashly. She had already,
however, committed herself to the first part of her programme, and
told her husband a falsehood; how was she to undeceive him? I
suggested that she should tell him on his return that she had been
mistaken, and that on examination I had found nothing unusual the
matter with her. This she positively refused to do, saying that her
husband had so set his heart on this one object that, were his hopes
suddenly dashed to the ground, he might do something desperate. She
said she would break it to him gently, and, imploring me to say
nothing to him of what had passed, she escorted me to the door, and,
with tearful eyes, bade me farewell.

Several months elapsed, and I had, for the time, thought little of
either Mr. and Mrs. Quintin, when one evening in glancing over the
papers, my eye fell on the following announcement: "On the ----th inst.,
at ---- Cadieux street the wife of R. Quintin of a daughter." I let
the paper drop as I gazed vacantly at the ceiling and tried to
realize the whole affair. Undecided how to act, I mechanically put