didn’t the girl come and tell me at once? Ain’t I her nearest relative—and haven’t I always been like an own mother to her? But she’s so peculiar—just as Alice 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 Then she heard footsteps—a bolt was withdrawn, and the door opened.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 stronger action of his mind, quickened by an ardent temperament. Self-consciousness was for a time lost, and I moved and acted by the power of his will. There was no consentation in the right meaning of the word, Aunt Phoebe, and I cannot think I am bound.”
“Bound, fully, in word and act Jessie,” was Mrs. Loring’s firmly spoken answer. “And so every one will regard you. Mr. Dexter, I am sure, will not admit your interpretation for an instant. He, it is plain, looks upon you as affianced. So do I!”
“Oh, aunt! aunt!” cried Jessie, clasping her hands, “say not so! say not so! Knowing, as you do, all that occurred, even to the utmost particulars of my strange position in the interview, how can you take part against me?”
“Take part against you, child! How strangely you talk! One who did not know Mr. Dexter, might suppose him to be an Ogre, or second Blue Beard. I think the events of this morning the most fortunate of your life.”
“While I fear they will prove most disastrous,” said Jessie.
“Nonsense, child! you are excited and nervous. There is always something novel and romantic to a young girl in an offer of marriage. It is the great event of her life. I do not wonder that you are disturbed—though I am surprised at the nature of this disturbance. Time will subdue all this. You have a beautiful life before you, darling! The cherished bride of Leon Dexter must tread a path of roses.”
A long sigh parted the lips of Miss Loring, and her face, to which not even the faintest tinge of color had yet returned, bent itself downward. She was silent.
“You leaned your face against him?” said Mrs. Loring.
“He drew my head down. I had no power of resistance, aunt. There was a spell upon my senses.”
“You did not reject his ardent kisses?”
“I could not.”
“And when he extended his hand, and asked you to lay your own within it, as a sign and a token of love, you gave him the sign and the token. Your hands clasped in a covenant of the heart! So he regarded the act. So do I; and so will all the world regard it. Jessie, the die is cast. You cannot retreat without dishonor.”
“Will you leave me, aunt?” said Jessie, after a long silence. Her tones were sad. “I am very much excited. All this has unnerved me. I would like to be alone again.”
