the maidens whom it had been his fortune to meet. And so, without
pausing to look deeply into her heart, or take note of its peculiar
aspirations and impulses, he boldly pressed forward resolved to win.
And he did win; and in winning, thought, like many another foolish
man, that to win the loveliest, was to secure the highest happiness.
Fatal error! Doubly fatal!

It is impossible for any woman to pass through an ordeal like the
one that was testing the quality of Jessie Loring, and not show
signs of the inward strife. It is in no way surprising, therefore,
that, in her exterior, a marked change soon became visible. There
was a certain dignity and reserve, verging, at times, on coldness,
not seen prior to her (sic) engagment--and a quiet suppression of
familiarity, even with her most intimate friends. The same marked
change was visible in her intercourse with Mr. Dexter. She did not
meet him with that kind of repulsion which is equivalent to pushing
back with the hand. She accepted his loving ardor of speech and act;
but passively. There was no responsive warmth.

At first Mr. Dexter was puzzled, and his ardent feelings chilled. He
loved, admired, almost worshipped the beautiful girl from whom
consent had been extorted, and her quiet, cold manner, troubled his
sorely. Glimpses of the real truth dawned into his mind. He let his
thoughts go back, and went over again, in retrospection, every
particular of their intercourse--dwelling minutely upon her words,
looks, manner and emotions at the time he first pressed his suit
upon her. The result was far from satisfactory. She had not met his
advances as he had hoped; but rather fled from him--and he had
gained her only by pursuit. Her ascent had not come warmly from her
heart, but burdened with a sigh. Mr. Dexter felt that though she was