Jessie drew a long deep sigh.
“If I must, I must,” she said, rising and looking at her face in the mirror.
“
“Jealous, Mary?” Miss Loring turned to the girl with a startled look. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, he asked me if you hadn’t a visitor to-night.”
“Well?”
“I said yes. Only ‘yes,’ and no more.”
“Why yes, and no more?” asked Miss Loring.
“D’ye think I was going to gratify him! What business had he to ask whether you had a visitor or not? You ain’t sold to him.”
“Mary!” There was reproof in the look and voice of Miss Loring. “You must not speak so of Mr. Dexter.”
“Well, I won’t if it displeases you. But I was downright mad with him.”
“You said yes to his question. What then, Mary?”
“Oh, then he wanted to know who he was.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Why? And what did you answer?”
“I wasn’t going to gratify him; and I said that I didn’t know.”
“Well?”
“‘Was he a stranger?’ said he. ‘I didn’t see him,’ said I. ‘You let him in?’ said he. ‘No, the cook went to the door,’ said I. You should have seen him then. He was baffled. Then looking almost savage, he bid me tell you that you must see him to-night.”
“
There was rebellion in Jessie’s voice.
“Well no, not just that word. But he looked and meant it, which is all the same.”
“Then he doesn’t know who called to see me?”
“Not from all he got from me, miss. But you’re not going down?”
“Yes, Mary; I will see him as he desires. Go and say that I will join him in a few minutes.”
The girl obeyed, and Jessie, after struggling a few moments with her feelings, went down to the parlor, where Mr. Dexter awaited her.
“I am sorry to learn that you are not well this evening,” said the young man, as he advanced across the room, with his eyes fixed intently on the face of his betrothed. She tried to smile, and receive him with her usual kindness of manner. But this was impossible. She had been profoundly disturbed, and that too recently for self- possession.
“What ails you? Has anything happened?”
Jessie had not yet trusted her lips with words. The tones of Dexter evinced some fretfulness.
“I am not very well,” she said, partly turning away her face that she might avoid the searching scrutiny of his eyes.
Dexter took her hand and led her to a sofa. They sat down, side by side, in silence—ice between them.
“Have you been indisposed all day?” inquired Dexter.
“I have not been very well for some time,” was answered in a husky voice, and in a manner that he thought evasive.
Again there was silence.
“I called to see Mrs. Denison this evening,” said Dexter; and then waited almost breathlessly for a response, looking at Jessie stealthily to note the effect of his words.
“Did you?”
There was scarcely a sign of interest in her voice.
“Yes. You have met her, I believe?”
“A few times.”
“Have you seen her recently?”
“No.”
Dexter gained nothing by this advance.
“What do you think of her?” he added, after a pause.
“She is a lady of fine social qualities and superior worth.”