"What isn't right with her?"
"I don't know, sir. But she was crying when I went into her room."
"Crying?"
"Yes, sir; and she cries a great deal, all alone there by herself, sir," added Mary, who had her own reasons for believing that Dexter was not really the heart-choice of Jessie—and with the tact of her sex, took it upon herself to throw a little cold water over his ardor. It may be that she hoped to give it a thorough chill.
"What does she cry about, Mary?"
"Dear knows, sir! I often wonder to see it, and she so soon to be married. It doesn't look just natural. There's something wrong."
"Wrong? How wrong, Mary?"
"That's just what I asked myself over and over again," replied the girl.
"She had a visitor here to-night," said Dexter, after a moment or two. He tried to speak indifferently; but the quick perception of Mary detected the covert interest in his tones.
"Yes." A single cold monosyllable was her reply.