nance. It was almost
malignant. That individual was Leon Dexter.

In spite of himself, Hendrickson showed confusion, and was unable to
return the steady gaze that rested upon him. His eyes fell. When he
looked up again, which was in a moment, Dexter had left his
position, and was crossing the room towards Miss Loring.

"It is the fiend Jealousy!" said Hendrickson, as he withdrew into
another room. "Well--let it poison all the springs of his happiness,
as he has poisoned mine! I care not how keen may be his sufferings."

He spoke with exceeding bitterness.

A few weeks later, and the dreaded consummation came. In honor of
the splendid alliance formed by her niece, Mrs. Loring gave a most
brilliant wedding party, and the lovely bride stood forth in all her
beauty and grace--the admired and the envied. A few thought her
rather pale--some said her eyes were too dreamy--and a gossip or two
declared that the rich young husband had only gained her person,
while her heart was in the keeping of another. "She has not married
the man, but his wealth and position!" was the unguarded remark of
one of these thoughtless individuals; and by a singular fatality,
the sentence reached the ears of Mr. Dexter. Alas! It was but
throwing another fagot on the already kindling fires of unhallowed
jealousy. The countenance of the young husband became clouded; and
it was only by an effort that he could arouse himself, and assume a
gay exterior. The prize after which he had sprung with such eager
haste, distancing all competitors, was now his own. Binding vows had
been uttered, and the minister had said--"What God hath joined
together, let not man put asunder." Yet, even in his hour of
triumph, came the troubled conviction that, though he had gained the
beautiful person of his bride, he could not say surely that her more
beautiful soul was all his own.

And so there was a death's head at his feast; and the costly wine
was dashed with bitterness.

Of what was passing in the mind of Dexter his bride had no
knowledge; nor did her keen instincts warn her that the demon of
jealousy was already in his heart. Suffering, and the colder spirit
of endurance that followed, had rendered her, in a certain sense,
obtuse in this direction.

A full-grown, strong woman, had Jessie become suddenly. The gentle,
tenderly-loving, earnest, simple-hearted girl, could never have
sustained the part it was hers to play. Unless a new and more
vigorous life had bee