“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.”

Again the young man was silent.  He could not discover by Jessie’s manner that she had any special interest in Mrs. Denison.  This was some relief; for it removed the impression that there was an understanding between them.

“I don’t admire her a great deal,” he said, with an air of indifference.  “She’s a little too prying and curious; and I’m afraid, likes to gossip.”

“Ah!  I thought her particularly free from that vice.”

“I had that impression also.  But my interview this evening gave me a different estimate of her character.”

“Did you come from Mrs. Denison’s directly here?” asked Jessie in a changed tone, as if some thought of more than common interest had flitted through her mind.  This change Dexter did not fail to observe.

“I did,” was his answer.

“Then I may infer,” said Jessie, “that your pressing desire to see me this evening has grown out of something you heard from the lips of Mrs. Denison.  Am I right in this conclusion?”

Dexter was not quite prepared for this.  After a slight hesitation he answered—­

“Partly so.”

The cold indifferent manner of Jessie Loring passed away directly.

“If you have anything to communicate, as of course you have, say on, Mr. Dexter.”

As little prepared was he for this; and quite as little for the almost stately air with which Jessie drew up her slight form, returning his glances with so steady a gaze that his eyes fell.