They were passing into the hotel, on their arrival, when Mr. Dexter, who happened to be looking at his wife, saw her start, flush, and then turn pale.  It was the work of an instant.  His eyes followed the direction of hers, but failed to recognize any individual among the group of persons near them as the one who thus affected her by his presence.  He left her in one of the parlors, while he made arrangements for rooms.  In a few minutes he returned.  She was sitting as he had left her, seeming scarcely to have stirred during his absence.  Her eyes were on the floor, and when he said, “Come, Jessie!” she started and looked up at him, in a confused way.

“Our apartments are ready; come.”

He had to speak a second time before she seemed to comprehend his meaning.  She arose like one in deep thought, and moved along by her husband’s side, leaving the parlor, and going up to the rooms which had been assigned to them.  The change in her countenance and manner was so great, that her husband could not help remarking upon it.

“Are you not well, Jessie?” he asked, as she sat down with a weary air.

“Not very well,” she answered—­yet with a certain evasion of tone that repelled inquiry.

Mr. Dexter scanned her countenance sharply.  She lifted her eyes at the moment to his face, and started slightly at the unusual meaning she saw therein.  A flush betrayed her disturbed condition; and a succeeding pallor gave signs of unusual pain.

“Will you see a physician!”

“No—­no!” she answered, quickly; “it was a momentary sickness—­but is passing off now.”  She arose as she said this, and commenced laying aside her travelling garments.  Mr. Dexter sat down, and taking a newspaper from his pocket, pretended to read; but his jealous eyes looked over the sheet, and rested with keen scrutiny on the face of his wife whenever it happened to be turned towards him.  That she scarcely thought of his presence, was plain from the fact that she did not once look at him.  Suddenly, as if some new thought had crossed his mind, Mr. Dexter arose, and after making some slight changes in his dress, left the apartment and went down stairs.  He was evidently in search of some one; for he passed slowly, and with wary eyes, along the passages, porticos and parlors.  The result was not satisfactory.  He met several acquaintances, and lingered with each in conversation; but the watchful searching eyes were never a moment at rest.

The instant Mr. Dexter left the room, there was a change in his wife.  The half indifferent, almost listless manner gave place to one that expressed deep struggling emotions.  Her bent form became erect, and she stood for a little while listening with her eyes upon the door, as if in doubt whether her husband would not return.  After the lapse of two or three minutes, she walked to the door, and placing her fingers on the key, turned it, locking herself in.  This done, she retired slowly towards a lounge by the window, nearly every trace of excitement gone, and sitting down, was soon so entirely absorbed in thought as scarcely to show a sign of external life.