not met his
advances as he had hoped; but rather fled from him--and he had
gained her only by pursuit. Her ascent had not come warmly from her
heart, but burdened with a sigh. Mr. Dexter felt that though she was
his, she had not been fairly won. The conviction troubled him.

"I will release her," he said, in a sudden glow of generous
enthusiasm. But Mr. Dexter had not the nobility for such a step. He
was too selfish a man to relinquish the prize.

"I will woo and win her still." This was to him a more satisfactory
conclusion. But he had won all of her in his power to gain. Her
heart was to him a sealed book. He could not unclasp the volume, nor
read a single page.

Earnestly at times did Jessie strive to appear attractive in the
eyes of her betrothed--to meet his ardor with returning warmth. But
the effort was accompanied with so much pain, that suffering was
unable to withdraw wholly beneath a veil of smiles.

The wordy, restless pleasure evinced by Mrs. Loring, was
particularly annoying to Jessie; so much so that any allusion by her
aunt to the approaching marriage, was almost certain to cloud her
brow. And yet so gratified was this worldly-minded woman, at the
good fortune of her niece in securing so brilliant an alliance,
that it seemed as if, for a time, she could talk of nothing else.

Mr. Dexter urged an early marriage, while Jessie named a period
nearly a year in advance; but, as she could give no valid reason for
delaying their happiness so long, the time was shortened to four
months. As the day approached, the pressure on the heart of Miss
Loring grew heavier.

"Oh, if I could die!" How many times in the silence of night and in
the loneliness of her chamber did her lips give forth this
utterance.

But the striving spirit could not lay down its burden thus.

Not once, since the exciting interview we have described, had Paul
and Jessie met. At places of fashionable amusement she was a
constant attendant in company with Dexter, who was proud of her
beauty. But though her eyes searched everywhere in the crowded
audiences, in no instance did she recognize the face of Hendrickson.
In festive companies, where he had been a constant attendant, she
missed his presence. Often she heard him inquired after, yet only
once did the answer convey any intelligence. It was at an evening
party. "Where is Mr. Hendrickson? It is a long time since I have
seen him," she heard a lady say. Partly turning she recognized Mrs.