The Hand But Not the Heart | Page 6

of her feelings.
"Very," replied Jessie in an absent way.
"Who was there?"
"Oh! everybody. It was a very large company."
"Who in particular that I know?"
"Mrs. Compton and her daughter Agnes."
"Indeed! Was Agnes there?" said Mrs. Loring, in manifest surprise.
"Yes; and she looked beautiful."
"I didn't know that she had come out. Agnes must be very young--not
over seventeen. I am surprised at her mother! How did she behave
herself? Bold, forward and hoydenish enough, I suppose! I never liked

her."
"I did not observe any impropriety of conduct," said Jessie. "She
certainly was neither bold nor forward."
"Did she sing?"
"No."
"Probably no one asked her." Mrs. Loring was in a cynical mood.
"Yes; I heard her asked more than once to sing."
"And she refused?"
"Yes."
"Affectation! She wanted urging. She has had peculiar advantages, and
is said to possess fine musical ability. I have heard that she is a
splendid performer. No doubt she was dying to show off at the piano."
"I think not," said Jessie, "for I heard her say to Mrs. Compton, in an
under tone, 'I can't, indeed, dear mother! The very thought of playing
before these people, makes my heart tremble. I can play very well at
home, when my mind is calm; but I should blunder in the first bar
here."
"Children should be left at home," said Mrs. Loring. "That is my
doctrine. This crowding of young girls into company, and crowding out
grown up people, is a great mistake; but, who else was there? What
gentlemen?"
"Mr. Florence."
Mrs. Loring curled her flexible lip.
"Mr. Dexter."
"Leon?"

"Yes."
The eyes of Jessie drooped as those of her aunt were directed in close
scrutiny to her face.
"He's a catch. Set your cap for him, Jessie, and you may ride in your
own carriage." There was a vulgar leer in Mrs. Loring's eye. The color
rose to Jessie's face, but she did not answer.
"Did he show you any attentions?" inquired the aunt.
"Yes. He was quite as attentive as I could desire."
"Indeed! And what does 'as you could desire,' mean?"
Jessie turned her face partly away to hide its crimson.
"Ah, well; I see how it is, dear. You needn't blush so. I only hope you
may get him. He was attentive, then, was he?"
"I have no reason to complain of his lack of attentions, said Jessie, her
voice cold and firm. "They would have been flattering to most girls.
But, I do not always give to compliments and 'company manners,' the
serious meanings that some attach to them."
"Jessie," Mrs. Loring spoke with sudden seriousness; "take my advice,
and encourage Leon Dexter. I am pleased to know that you were so
much an object of his attentions as your remarks lead me to infer. I
know that you will make him a good wife; one of whom he can never
be ashamed; and I know that a union with him will give you a proud
position."
"Will you waive the subject, at present, dear aunt?" said Jessie, with a
pleading look, at the same time glancing covertly towards her cousins,
who were drinking in every word with girlish eagerness.
"Oh, by all means," answered Mrs. Loring, "if it is in the least annoying.
I was forgetting myself in the interest felt for your welfare."

"And so Mr. Dexter showed you marked attentions last evening?" said
Jessie's aunt, joining her in the sitting-room, after Amanda and Dora
had left for school.
"Did I say so, aunt?" inquired Jessie, looking into her relative's face.
"You said enough to make the inference clear, my child."
"Well, Aunt Phoebe, he was attentive--more so, by a great deal, than I
desired!"
"Than you desired!" There was unfeigned surprise in the voice of Mrs.
Loring. "What do you mean, Jessie?"
"The man's position is all well enough; 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