"Good night, and God bless you!" responded the servant, warmly. "She
was the queen there, I know?" she added, proudly, speaking to
herself as she moved away.

It was a night in mid-October. A clear, cool, moon-lit radiant
night. From her window, Jessie could look far away over the
housetops to a dark mass of forest trees, just beyond the city, and
to the gleaming river that lay sleeping at their feet. The sky was
cloudless, save at the west, where a tall, craggy mountain of vapor
towered up to the very zenith. After loosening and laying off some
of her garments, Miss Loring, instead (sic) off retiring, sat down
by the window, and leaning her head upon her hand looked out upon
the entrancing scene. She did not remark upon its beauty, nor think
of its weird attractions; nor did her eyes, after the first glance,
convey any distinct image of external objects to her mind. Yet was
she affected by them. The hour, and the aspect of nature wrought
their own work upon her feelings.

She sat down and leaned her head upon her hand, while the scenes in
which she had been for the past few hours an actor, passed before
her in review with almost the vividness of reality. Were her
thoughts pleasant ones? We fear not; for every now and then a faint
sigh troubled her breast, and parted her too firmly closed lips. The
evening's entertainment had not satisfied her in something. There
was a pressure on her feelings that weighed them down heavily.

"There is more in one sentence of his than in a a page of the
other's wordy utterances." Her lips moved in the earnestness of her
inward-spoken thoughts. "How annoyed I was to be dragged from his
side by Mr. Dexter just as I had begun to feel a little at my ease,