as disturbed; but its aspect changed to one of deep
abstraction. And thus she sat for nearly an hour. The opening of her
room door startled her into a life of external consciousness.
Her husband entered. She glanced at his face, and saw that something
had occurred to ruffle his feelings. He looked at her strangely for
some moments, as if searching for expected meanings in her
countenance.

"Are you not well?" Mrs. Dexter asked.

"Oh, yes, I'm well enough," he answered with unusual abruptness of
manner.

She said no more, and he commenced pacing the floor of their small
parlor backwards and forwards with restless footsteps.

Once, without moving her head or body, Mrs. Dexter stole a glance
towards her husband; she encountered his eyes turning stealthily
upon her, and scanning her face with an earnest scrutiny. A moment
their eyes lingered, mutually spell-bound, and then the glances were
mutually withdrawn. Mr. Dexter continued his nervous perambulations,
and his wife remained seated and silent.

The ringing of the bell announced tea. Mr. Dexter paused, and Mrs.
Dexter, rising without remark, took his arm, and they went down to
the dining-hall, neither of them speaking a word. On taking her
place at the table, Mrs. Dexter's eyes ran quickly up and down the
lines of faces opposite.

This was done with so slight a movement of the head, that her
husband, who was on the alert, did not detect the rapid observation.
For some three or four minutes the guests came filing in, and all
the while Mrs. Dexter kept glancing from face to face. She did not
move her head or seem interested in the people around her; but her
eyes told a very different story. Twice the waiter asked if she
would take tea or coffee, before she noticed him, and her answer,
"Coffee," apprised her watchful husband of the fact that she was
more than usually lost in thought.

"Not coffee?" Mr. Dexter bent to his wife's ear.

"No, black tea," she said, quickly, partly turning to the waiter. "I
was not thinking," she added, speaking to her husband. At the moment
Mrs. Dexter turned towards the waiter, she leaned forward, over the
table, and gave a rapid glance down at the row of faces on that
side; and in replying to her husband, she managed to do the same
thing for the other end of the table. No change in her countenance
attested the fact that her search for some desired or expected
personage had been successful. The half emptied cup of tea, and
merely br