you would see Miss Loring under the influence of a better
state. And I pray you still to be calm, rational, generous, manly.
Go to her in a noble, unselfish spirit. If you love her truly you
desire her happiness; and to make her happy, would even release her
pledged hand, were such a sacrifice needed."

"You give me credit for more virtue than I claim to possess," was
answered, a little sarcastically. "Love desires to hold, not lose
its object."

"Enough, my young friend," said Mrs. Denison, in her calm, earnest
way. "We will not bandy words--that would be fruitless. I grieve
that you should have misunderstood me in even the least thing, or
let the slightest suggestion of a sinister motive find a lodgment in
your mind. I have had no purpose but a good one to serve, and shall
be conscience-clear in the matter. A more delicate task than this
was never undertaken. That I have not succeeded according to my
wishes, is no matter of surprise."

"Good evening, madam!"

Dexter bowed with a cold formality.

"Good evening!" was mildly returned.

And so the young man went away.

"I fear that only harm will come of this," said Mrs. Denison, as she
retired from the door. "I meant it for the best, and pray that no
evil may follow the indiscretion, if such it be!"

CHAPTER IX.

MRS. DENISON'S fears were prophetic. Evil, not good, came of her
well meant efforts to prevent the coming sacrifice. Instead of
awakening generous impulses in the mind of Leon Dexter, only anger
and jealousy were aroused; and as they gained strength, love
withdrew itself, for love could not breathe the same atmosphere. The
belief that Hendrickson was the man to whom Mrs. Denison referred,
was fully confirmed by this fact. Dexter had resolved to see Miss
Loring that very evening, and was only a short distance from her
home, and in sight of the door, when he saw a man ascend the steps
and ring. He stopped and waited. A servant came to the door and the
caller entered. For a time, the question was revolved as to whether
he should follow, or not.

"It is Hendrickson. I'll wager my life on it!"--he muttered,
grinding his teeth together. "There is a cursed plot on foot, and
this insinuating, saintly Mrs. Denison, is one of the plotters! My
very blood is seething at the thought. Shall I go in now, and
confront him at his devilish work?"

"It were better not," he said, after a brief struggle with his
feelings. "I am too excited, and cannot answer