The Hand But Not the Heart | Page 2

his eyes upon the floor; then
lifting them to the face of Mrs. Denison, he replied.
"You are not ignorant of the fact that Jessie Loring has interested me
more than any maiden I have yet seen?"
"I am not, for you have already confided to me your secret."
"The first time I met her, it seemed to me as if I had come into the
presence of one whose spirit claimed some hidden affinities with my
own. I have never felt so strangely in the presence of a woman as I
have felt and always feel in the presence of Miss Loring."
"She has a spirit of finer mould than most women," said Mrs. Denison.
"I do not know her very intimately; but I have seen enough to give me a
clue to her character. Her tastes are pure, her mind evenly balanced,
and her intellect well cultivated."
"But she is only a woman."
Mr. Hendrickson sighed as he spoke.
"Only a woman! I scarcely understand you," said Mrs. Denison, gravely.
"I am a woman."
"Yes, and a true woman! Forgive my words. They have only a
conventional meaning," replied the young man earnestly.
"You must explain that meaning, as referring to Jessie Loring."
"It is this, only. She can be deceived by appearances. Her eyes are not
penetrating enough to look through the tinsel and glitter with which
wealth conceals the worthlessness of the man."
"Ah! you are jealous. There is a rival."
"You, alone, can use those words, and not excite my anger," said
Hendrickson.

"Forgive me if they have fallen upon your ears unpleasantly."
"A rival, Mrs. Denison!" the young man spoke proudly. "That is
something I will never have. The woman's heart that can warm under
the smile of another man, is nothing to me."
"You are somewhat romantic, Paul, in your notions about matrimony.
You forget that women are 'only' women."
"But I do not forget, Mrs. Denison, that as you have so often said to me,
there are true marriages in which the parties are drawn towards each
other by sexual affinities peculiar to themselves; and that a union in
such cases, is the true union by which they become, in the language of
inspiration, 'one flesh.' I can enter into none other. When I first met
Jessie Loring, a spirit whispered to me--was it a lying spirit?--a spirit
whispered to me--'the beautiful complement of your life!' I believed on
the instant. In that I may have been romantic."
"Perhaps not!" said Mrs. Denison.
Hendrickson looked into her face steadily for some moments, and then
said--
"It was an illusion."
"Why do you say this, Paul? Why are you so disturbed? Speak your
heart more freely."
"Leon Dexter is rich. I am--poor!"
"You are richer than Leon Dexter in the eyes of a true woman--richer a
thousandfold, though he counted his wealth by millions." There were
flashes of light in the eyes of Mrs. Denison.
Hendrickson bent his glance to the floor and did not reply.
"If Miss Loring prefers Dexter to you, let her move on in her way
without a thought. She is not worthy to disturb, by even the shadow of
her passing form, the placid current of your life. But I am by no means

certain that he is preferred to you."
"He has been at her side all the evening," said the young man.
"That proves nothing. A forward, self-confident, agreeable young
gentleman has it in his power thus to monopolize almost any lady. The
really excellent, usually too modest, but superior young men, often
permit themselves to be elbowed into the shade by these shallow,
rippling, made up specimens of humanity, as you have probably done
to-night."
"I don't know how that may be, Mrs. Denison; but this I know. I had
gained a place by her side, early in the evening. She seemed pleased, I
thought, at our meeting; but was reserved in conversation--too reserved
it struck me. I tried to lead her out, but she answered my remarks
briefly, and with what I thought an embarrassed manner. I could not
hold her eyes--they fell beneath mine whenever I looked into her face.
She was evidently ill at ease. Thus it was, when this self-confident
Leon Dexter came sweeping up to us with his grand air, and carried her
off to the piano. If I read her face and manner aright, she blessed her
stars at getting rid of me so opportunely."
"I doubt if you read them aright," said Mrs. Denison, as her young
friend paused. "You are too easily discouraged. If she is a prize, she is
worth striving for. Don't forget the old adage--'Faint heart never won
fair lady.'"
Paul shook his head.
"I am too proud to enter the lists in any such contest,"