“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, (sic) clild!  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 (sic) it 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.