as a hand--a living, loving spirit, as well as a body. These he
could not possess in me--for the heart loves not by compulsion. Then
jealousy was born in his soul, and suspicion followed. Both were
groundless. I felt a degrading sense of wrong; and at times, a
spirit of rebellion. But I never gave place to a wandering
thought--never gave occasion for wrong construction of my conduct.
Ah, Aunt Phoebe! that marriage was a sad mistake. A union unblessed
by love, is the commencement of a wretched life. It is the old
story; and never loses its tragic interest. It was folly in the
beginning, and it is madness now."

Mrs. Loring would have questioned her niece closely as to the
meaning of Mr. Dexter's allusion to a certain individual as having
been too intimate with his wife, but these closing remarks fell like
rebuke upon her ears. She remembered how almost like a victim-lamb,
Jessie had been led up to the marriage altar; and how she had
overruled all objections, and appealing to her honor, had almost
constrained her into the fulfillment of a promise that should never
have been extorted. And so she remained silent.

"I knew it must come to this sooner or later," Jessie went on; "I
knew that a time must arrive when the only alternative for me would
be death or separation. The separation has taken place sooner than I
had dared to hope; and for the act, I do not hold myself
responsible. He flung me off! To a spirit like mine, his language
was a strong repulsion; and I swept away from him with a force it
would have been vain to resist. We are apart now, and apart
forever."

"You are too much excited, Jessie," said Mrs. Loring, laying her
finger upon the lips of her niece, "and I must enjoin silence and
rest. I have faith in you. I will be your friend, though all the
world pass coldly on in scorn."

Tears glistened in the eyes of Mrs. Dexter as she lifted them, with
a thankful expression, to the face of her aunt, from whom she had
not dared to hope for so tender a reception. She knew Mrs. Loring to
be worldly-minded; she knew her to be a woman of not over delicate
feelings; and as one easily affected by appearances. That she would
blame, denounce, threaten, she had no doubt. A thought of approval,
sympathy, aid or comfort in this fearful trial had not stirred in
her imagination. This unlooked for kindness on the part of her aunt
touched her deeply.

The fact was, Mr. Dexter had gone a step too far. The grossness of
this