used to be. I don't believe I shall ever understand her."

And Mrs. Loring fretted a little in her moderate way, not being
capable of any very profound emotion. Ten, fifteen, twenty
minutes--half an hour she waited for Jessie to appear. But there was
no movement in the neighborhood of her chamber.

"Didn't Jessie go to her room, after the gentleman went away?" asked
Mrs. Loring, speaking to a servant, who was passing down the stairs.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is she there now?"

"I believe so ma'am. I haven't seen her anywhere about the house."

The servant passed on, and Mrs. Loring waited for full half an hour
longer. Then, unable to repress impatient curiosity, she went to
Jessie's room and knocked at the door. Twice she knocked before
there was a sound of life within. Then she heard footsteps--a bolt
was withdrawn, and the door opened.

"Jessie!" exclaimed Mrs. Loring, "how white you are! What has
happened?"

"Come in dear aunt!" said Jessie, "I have been wanting to see you;
but had not yet made up my mind to seek you in the sitting-room. I
am glad you are here."

Mrs. Loring passed in and Jessie closed the door.

"Take this seat aunt," and she pointed to an easy-chair: "I will sit
here," drawing a lower one close to that which Mrs. Loring had
taken.

"Now, dear, what has happened?" Mrs. Loring's curiosity had been so
long upon the stretch, that she could ill endure delay.

"Will you listen to me patiently, Aunt Phoebe?"

There was a calmness of manner about Jessie that seemed to Mrs.
Loring unnatural.

"Speak, dear--you will find me all attention."

"I am in a--strait. I must act; but cannot of my own reason,
determine what action is right," said Jessie, "you must think for
me, and help me to a just decision."

"Go on dear," urged Mrs. Loring.

Then as briefly and as clearly as possible, Jessie related all that
had passed in her excited interview with Mr. Dexter. On concluding,
she said with much earnestness of manner:

"And now, Aunt Phoebe, what I wish to know is this--will Mr. Dexter
be warranted in regarding either my words or my actions, as an
acceptance of his offer?"

"Certainly," was the unhesitating reply of Mrs. Loring.

"Aunt Phoebe!"

There was a tone of anguish in the voice of Jessie; and her pale
lips grew paler.

"Why, what can ail you, child?" said Mrs. Loring.

"I had hoped for a different decision. Mr. Dexter took me at
unawares. In a certain sense, I was mesmerized by the