gh; but the man himself is not
altogether to my liking."

"You must have grown remarkably fastidious all at once. Why, girl!
there isn't a handsomer man to be found anywhere. He is a noble
looking fellow! Where are your eyes?"

"The man that a wife has to deal with, is the man of the spirit,
Aunt Phoebe--the real man. The handsome outside is nothing, if the
inner man is not beautiful!" Jessie spoke with a sudden glow of
feeling.

"Stuff and nonsense, child!" said Mrs. Loring, impatiently. "Stuff
and nonsense!" she repeated, seeing that her niece looked steadily
into her face. "What do you know of the man of the spirit, as you
call it? And, moreover, what possesses you to infer that Mr.
Dexter's inner man is not as beautiful as the outer?"

"The soul looks forth from the eyes, and manifests its quality in
the tones of the voice," replied Jessie, a fine enthusiasm
illuminating her beautiful face. "No man can hide from us his real
character, unless we let self-love and self-interest draw an
obscuring veil."

"You are a strange girl, Jessie--a very strange girl!" Mrs. Loring
was fretted. "What can you mean? Here, a splendid fortune promises
to be poured into your lap, and you draw your garments aside,
hesitating and questioning as to whether the golden treasure is
worth receiving! I am half amazed at your conduct!"

"Are you weary of my presence here, Aunt Phoebe?" said Jessie, a
tremor in her low failing tones.

"Now give me patience with the foolish girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Loring,
assuming an angry aspect. "What has come over you, Jessie? Did I say
anything about being wearied with your presence? Because I manifest
an unusual degree of interest in your future welfare, am I to be
charged with a mean, selfish motive? I did not expect this of you."

"Dear aunt! forgive me!" said Jessie, giving way to tears. "My
feelings are unusually disturbed this morning. Late hours and the
excitement of company have made me nervous. As for Mr. Dexter, let
us pass him by for the present. He has not impressed me as favorably
as you seem to desire."

"But Jessie."

"Spare me, dear aunt! If you press the subject on me now, you will
only excite disgust where you hope to create a favorable impression.
I have had many opportunities of close observation, and failed not
to improve them. The result is--"

Jessie paused.

"What?" queried her aunt.

"That the more narrowly I scan him the less I like him. He is
superficial, vain and