change, though its causes were not seen, was perceived as something
to love, by Aunt Phoebe, who felt for her niece a daily increasing
attachment.

And so the weeks moved on; and so the years came and went. Little
change was seen in Jessie Loring; except, that the smile which had
been restored, gradually grew less, though it did not bear away the
heavenly sweetness from her countenance. In all true charities that
came within her sphere of action, whether the ministration were to
bodily necessities, or moral needs, she was an angel of mercy; and
few met her in life's daily walk, but had occasion to think of her
as one living very near the sources of Divine love.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

TEN years had glided away, yet not in all that time had Jessie
Loring received a word of intelligence from Paul Hendrickson. He had
passed from sight like a ship when darkness falls upon the
ocean--the morning sees her not again, and the billows give no
record of the way she went. But still Jessie bore his image at her
heart; still her love was undimmed, and her confidence unshaken--and
still she felt herself bound by the old shackles, which no human
hand could break from her fettered limbs.

One day, about this time, as Mrs. Denison sat reading, a servant
came into her room and handing her a card, said:

"There is a gentleman waiting in the parlor to see you."

She looked at the card, and started with surprise. It bore the name
of PAUL HENDRICKSON.

"My dear friend!" she exclaimed, grasping both of his hands, as she
stood facing him a few moments afterwards.

"My best friend!" was the simple response, but in a voice tremulous
with feeling.

A little while they stood, gazing curiously yet with affectionate
interest, into each other's face.

"You are not much changed; and nothing for the worse," said Mrs.
Denison.

"And you wear the countenance of yesterday," he replied, almost
fondly. "How many thousands of times since we parted, have I desired
to stand looking into your eyes as I do now! Dear friend! my heart
has kept your memory fresh as spring's first offerings."

"Where have you been, in all these years of absence?" Mrs. Denison
asked, as they sat down, still holding each other's hands tightly.

"Far away from here; but of that hereafter. You have already guessed
the meaning of my return to the old places."

"No."

"What! Have you not heard of Mr. Dexter's decease?"

"Paul! is that so?" Mrs. Denison was instan