r next remark; but
there could be no holding back now.

"Are you sure, Mr. Dexter, that you possess her undivided heart?"

"I marvel at your question, madam!" he answered, with a start, and
in a tone of surprise.

"Calmly, my friend." And Mrs. Denison, who was a woman of remarkably
clear perceptions, laid her hand upon his arm. "I am not questioning
idly, nor to serve any sinister or hidden purpose--but am influenced
by higher motives. Nor am I acting at the instance of another. What
passes between us this evening shall be sacred. I said that I knew
of something vital to your happiness; therefore I asked this
interview. And now ponder well my question, and be certain that you
get the right answer."

Dexter let his eyes fall. He sat for a long while silent, but
evidently in earnest thought.

"Have you her full, free, glad assent to the approaching union?"
asked Mrs. Denison, breaking in upon his silence. She saw a shade of
impatience on his countenance as he looked up and checked the words
that were on his lips, by saying:

"Marriage is no light thing, my young friend. It is a relation
which, more than any other, makes or mars the future; and when
entered into, should be regarded as the must solemn act of life.
Here all error is fatal. The step once taken, it cannot be retraced.
Whether the path be rough or even, it must be pursued to the end. If
the union be harmonious--internally so, I mean--peace, joy, interior
delight will go on, finding daily increase--if inharmonious, eternal
discord will curse the married partners. Do not be angry with me
then, for pressing the question--Have you her full, free, glad,
assent to the approaching union? If not, pause--for your
love-freighted bark may be drifting fast upon the breakers--and not
yours only, but hers.

"I have reason to fear, Mr. Dexter," continued Mrs. Denison, seeing
that her visitor did not attempt to reply, but sat looking at her in
a kind of bewildered surprise, "that you pressed your suit too
eagerly, and gained a half unwilling consent. Now, if this be so,
you are in great danger of making shipwreck. An ordinary
woman--worldly, superficial, half-hearted, or no-hearted--even if
she did not really love you, would find ample compensation in your
fortune, and in the social advantages it must secure. But depend
upon it, sir, these will not fill the aching void that must be in
Jessie Loring's heart, if you have no power to fill it with your
image--for she is