called upon his friend Mrs. Denison.

"I have come to talk with you again about Miss Loring," said he. "I
can't get her out of my thoughts. Her presence haunts me like a
destiny."

Mrs. Denison smiled as she answered a little playfully:

"A genuine case of love; the infection taken at first sight. Isn't
it so, Paul?"

"That I love this girl, in spite of myself, is, I fear, a solemn
fact," said the young man, with an expression of face that did not
indicate a very agreeable self-consciousness.

"Fear? In spite of yourself? A solemn fact? What a contradiction you
are, Paul!" said Mrs. Denison.

"A man in love is an enigma. I have often heard it remarked, and I
now perceive the saying to be true. I am an enigma. Yes, I love this
girl in spite of myself; and the fact is a solemn one. Why? Because
I have too good reason for believing that she does not love me in
return. And yet, even while I say this, tones and words of hers,
heard only to-day, come sighing to my ears, giving to every
heart-beat a quicker impulse."

"Ah! Then you have seen Miss Loring to-day?"

"Yes," answered Hendrickson, in a quick, and suddenly excited
manner. "I called upon her this morning, and while I sat in the
parlor awaiting her appearance, who should intrude himself but that
fellow Dexter. I felt like annihilating him. The look I gave him he
will remember."

"That was bad taste, Paul," said Mrs. Denison.

"I know it. But his appearance was so untimely; and then, I had not
forgotten last evening. The fellow has a world of assurance; and he
carries it off with such an air--such a self-possession and easy
grace! You cannot disturb the dead level of his self-esteem. To have
him intruding at such a time, was more than I could bear. It
completely unsettled me. Of course, when Miss Loring appeared, I was
constrained, cold, embarrassed, distant--everything that was
repulsive; while Dexter was as bland as a June morning--full of
graceful compliments--attractive--winning. When I attempted some
frozen speech, I could see a change in Miss Loring's manner, as if
she had suddenly approached an iceberg; but, as often, Dexter would
melt the ice away by one of his sunny smiles, and her face would
grow radiant again."

"You exaggerate," said Mrs. Denison.

"The case admits of no exaggeration. I was too keenly alive to my
own position; and saw only what was."

"The medium was distorted. Excited feelings are the eyes' magnifying
glasses."

"It ma