Yet, not a word had parted the maiden's lips, thus spirited away, as
it were, out of herself, and strangely betrayed into consenting
silence. She had neither given her yea nor her nay--and dared as
little to speak the one as the other.

Almost bereft of (sic) physicial power, she sat with her face hidden
on the bosom of this impulsive lover, for many minutes. At last,
thought cleared itself a little, and, with a more distinct
self-consciousness, were restored individuality and strength. She
raised herself, moved back a little, and looked up into the face of
Mr. Dexter. The aspect of her own was not just what the young man
had expected to see. He did not look upon a countenance blushing in
sweet confusion; nor into eyes radiant with loving glances; but upon
a pale face, and eyes whose meanings were a mystery. Slowly, yet
persistently, did she withdraw her hand from his clasp, while slowly
her form arose, until it gained an erect position.

"You have taken me off my guard, Mr. Dexter," she said, a tremor
running through her voice.

"Say not a word, Jessie! say not a word! I am only too happy to have
taken your heart captive. You are none the less my own, whether the
means were force or stratagem."

"Speak not too confidently, sir. Have I"--

Mr. Dexter raised his hand quickly, and uttered a word of warning.
But were silent again. Then the young man said, his manner growing
deferential, and his voice falling to a low and subdued tone--