oken piece of toast lying on her plate, showed plainly
enough that either indisposition or mental disturbance, had deprived
her of appetite.

From the tea table they went to one of the parlors. Only a few
gentlemen and ladies were there, most of the guests preferring a
stroll out of doors, or an evening drive.

"Shall we ride? It is early yet, and the full moon will rise as the
sun goes down."

"I have ridden enough to day," Mrs. Dexter answered. "Fatigue has
made me nervous. But don't let that prevent your taking a drive."

"I shall not enjoy it unless you are with me," said Mr. Dexter.

"Then I will go." Mrs. Dexter did not speak fretfully, nor in the
martyr tone we often hear, but in a voice of unexpected
cheerfulness. "Order the carriage," she added, as she rose; "I will
get my bonnet and shawl, and join you here by the time it is at the
door."

"No--no, Jessie! Not if you are so fatigued. I had forgotten our
journey to-day," interposed Mr. Dexter.

"A ride in the bracing salt air will do me good, perhaps. I am, at
least, disposed to make the trial. So order the carriage, and I will
be with you in a moment."

Mrs. Dexter spoke with a suddenly outflashing animation, and then
left her husband to make preparations for accompanying him in the
drive. She had passed through the parlor door on to one of the long
porticoes of the building, and was moving rapidly, when, just before
reaching the end, where another door communicated with a stairway,
she suddenly stood still, face to face with a man who had stepped
from that door out upon the portico.

"Jess--Mrs. Dexter!" the man checked the unguarded utterance of her
familiar Christian name, and gave the other designation.

"Mr. Hendrickson!"

Only for an instant did Mrs. Dexter betray herself; but in that
instant her heart was read, as if a blaze of lightning had flashed
over one of its pages, long hidden away in darkness, and revealed
the writing thereon in letters of gleaming fire.

"You arrived to day?" Mr. Hendrickson also regained the even balance
of mind which had momentarily been lost, and regained it as quickly
as the lady. He spoke with the pleased air of an acquaintance--nothing
more.

"This afternoon," replied Mrs. Dexter in a quiet tone, and with a
smile in which no casual observer could have seen anything deeper
than pleasant recognition.

"How long will you remain?"

"It is not certain; perhaps until the season closes."

Mrs. Dexter made