agitation, will certainly prove fatal."

Dexter was silent.

"We must keep our own counsel for the present," he said, at length.
"The public should know nothing of all this."

"In that we are agreed," answered Mrs. Loring. "My advice to you is,
to leave Jessie, for the time being at least, to her own will.
Serious prostration of all her faculties, I cannot but fear as a
consequence. To-morrow, she will in all probability need her
physician's care."

"How will you account for her condition, should his attendance be
deemed necessary?"

Mrs. Loring shook her head.

"Events," she answered, "are too recent, and my mind too much
bewildered to say what course I may deem it the wisest policy to
pursue. I must await the occasion, and govern myself accordingly."

"Be very prudent, madam," said Mr. Dexter. "A single error may wreck
everything."

"Her reputation is as dear to me as my own," replied Mrs. Loring,
"and you may be very sure, that I will guard it as a most precious
thing. The warning as to circumspection I pass to you."

Mr. Dexter made a movement to retire.

"I will see you in the morning," he said, "and in the meantime,
account for Jessie's absence, by saying that she paid you a visit,
going out imprudently, and found herself too much indisposed to
return."

Mrs. Loring merely inclined her head. A little while Dexter stood
looking at her, embarrassment and trouble written on every feature.
Then bowing coldly, he retired.

CHAPTER XX.

WHEN Mrs. Loring went back to her chamber, after Mr. Dexter withdrew
from the house, she found Jessie in bed, lying as still as if
asleep. She looked up when her aunt came to the bedside--at first
with stealthy, half-timid glances--then with more of trust, that
changed into loving confidence. Mrs. Loring bent down and kissed
her.

"Oh, Aunt Phoebe! that was very cruel in him."

"What was cruel, dear?"

The thoughts of Mrs. Loring went farther back than to the interview
in her parlor.

"He tried to ruin me even in your regard."

"But he failed, Jessie. I will not believe the lowest whisper of an
evil report against you."

"I am as pure in thought and as true in purpose, Aunt Phoebe, as
when I went out from you. I do not love Mr. Dexter--I never loved
him. Still that is no crime--only a necessity. He understood this in
the beginning, and took the risk of happiness--so did I. But he was
not satisfied with all that I could give. He wanted a heart, as well