The Hand but Not the Heart; Or, The Life-Trials of Jessie Loring. Arthur Timothy Shay

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 may be so." There was a modification in Hendrickson's manner. "I was excited. How could I help being so?"

      "There existed no cause for it, Paul. Mr. Dexter had an equal right with yourself to visit Miss Loring."

      "True."

      "And an equal right to choose his own time."

      "I will not deny it."

      "Therefore, there was no reason in the abstract, why his complimentary call upon the lady should create in your mind unpleasant feelings towards the man. You had no more right to complain of his presence there, than he had to complain of yours."

      "I confess it."

      "There is one thing," pursued Mrs. Denison, "in which you disappoint me, Paul. You seem to lack a manly confidence in yourself. You are as good as Leon Dexter—aye, a better, truer man in every sense of the word—a man to please a woman at all worth pleasing, far better than he. And yet you permit him to elbow you aside, as it were, and to thrust you into a false position, if not into obscurity. If Miss Loring is the woman God has created for you, in the name of all that is holy, do not let another man usurp your rights. Do not let one like Dexter bear her off to gild a heartless home. Remember that Jessie is young, inexperienced, and unskilled in the ways of the world. She is not schooled in the lore of love; cannot understand all its signs; and, above all, can no more look into your heart, than you can look into hers. How is she to know that you love her, if you stand coldly—I might say cynically—observant at a far distance. Paul! Paul! Women are not won in this way, as many a man has found to his sorrow, and as you will find in the present case, unless you act with more self-confidence and decision. Go to Miss Loring then, and show her, by signs not to be mistaken, that she has found favor in your eyes. Give her a chance to show you what her real feelings are; and my word for it, you will not find her as indifferent as you fear. If you gain any encouragement, make farther advances; and let her comprehend fully that you are an admirer. She will not play you false. Don't fear for a moment. She is above guile."

      Mrs. Denison ceased. Her words had inspired Hendrickson with new feelings.

      "As I parted from her to-day," he remarked, "she said, 'I shall be pleased to see you again.' I I felt that there was meaning in the words beyond a graceful speech. 'Not if I show myself as stupid as I have been this morning,' was my answer. Very quickly, and with some earnestness, she returned: 'I have never thought you stupid, Mr. Hendrickson.'"

      "Well? And what then? Did you compliment her in return; or say something to fill her ears with music and make her heart tremble? You could have asked no better opportunity for giving the parting word that lingers longest and is oftenest conned over. What did you say to that, Paul?"

      "I blundered out some meaningless things, and left her abruptly," said Hendrickson, with an impatient sweep of his hand. "I felt that her eyes were upon me, but had not the courage to lift my own and read their revelation."

      "Too bad! Too bad! The old adage is true always—'Faint heart never won fair lady'—and if you are not a little braver at heart, my young friend, you will lose this fair lady, whose hand may be had for the asking. So, I pray you, be warned in time. Go to her this very evening. You will probably find her alone. Dexter will hardly call twice in the same day; so you will be free from his intrusion. Let her see by tone, look, manner, word, that she has charmed your fancy. Show yourself an admirer. Then act as the signs indicate."

      "I will," replied Hendrickson, speaking with enthusiasm.

      "Go and heaven speed you! I have no fear as to the issue. But, Paul, let me warn you to repress your too sensitive feelings. Your conduct, heretofore, has not been such as to give Miss Loring any opportunity to judge of your real sentiments towards her. Your manner has been distant or constrained. She does not, therefore, understand you; and if her heart is really interested, she will be under constraint when she meets you to-night. Don't mind this. Be open, frank, at ease yourself. Keep your thoughts clear, and let not a pulse beat quicker than now."

      "That last injunction goes too far, my good friend; for my heart gives a bound the moment my eyes rest upon her. So you see that mine is a desperate case."

      "The more need of skill and coolness. A blunder may prove fatal."

      Mr. Hendrickson rose, saying,

      "Time passes. A good work were well done quickly. I will not linger when minutes are so precious."

      "God speed you!" whispered Mrs. Denison, as they parted, a few minutes later at the door.

      CHAPTER VI

      IT was an hour from the time Mr. Hendrickson left the house of Mrs. Denison before he found himself in one of Mrs. Loring's parlors. He had been home, where a caller detained him.

      Full ten minutes elapsed after his entrance, ere Jessie's light tread was heard on the stairs. She came down slowly, and as she entered the room, Hendrickson was struck with the singular expression of her face. At the first glance he scarcely recognized her.

      "Are you not well, Miss Loring?" he asked, stepping forward to meet her.

      His manner was warm, and his tones full of sympathy.

      She smiled faintly as she answered—

      "Not very well. I have a blinding headache."

      Still holding the hand she had extended to him in meeting, Mr. Hendrickson led her to a sofa, and sat down by her side. He would have retained the hand, but she gently withdrew it, though not in a way that involved repulsion.

      "I am sorry for your indisposition," he said, in a tone of interest so unusual for him, that Miss Loring lifted her eyes, which had fallen to the carpet, and looked at him half shyly—half interrogatingly.

      "If you had sent me word that you were not well, Miss Loring"—

      He paused, gazing very earnestly upon her face, into which crimsoning blushes began to come.

      "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Hendrickson. I did not wish to be excused," she answered, and then, as if she had been led to utter more than maidenly modesty approved, averted her face suddenly, and seemed confused. There followed a moment or two of silence; when her visitor said, leaning close to her, and speaking in a low, penetrating, steady voice—

      "Your reply, Miss Loring, is an admission of more than I had expected—not more than I had hoped."

      He saw her start, as if she had touched an electric wire. But her face remained averted.

      "Miss Loring"—

      Warmer words were on his lips, but he hesitated to give them utterance. There was a pause. Motionless sat the young maiden, her face still partly turned away. Suddenly, and with an almost wild impulse, Hendrickson caught her hand, and raising it to his lips, said—

      "I cannot hold back the words a moment longer, dear Miss Loring! From the hour I first looked into your face, I felt that we were made for each other; and now"—

      But ere he could finish the sentence, Jessie had flung his hand away and started to her feet.

      "Miss Loring!"

      He was on his feet also. For some moments they stood gazing at each other. The countenance of Miss Loring was of an ashen hue; her lips, almost as pallid as her cheeks, stood arching apart, and her eyes had the stare of one frightened