I do not know how it arose, for I had left the table; but one day Jessie came into the library, to which I had retreated, looking greatly excited; her eyes were full of troubled fire, and there was a stern pressure of the beautiful lips that I had never seen before. She did not speak, but walking up to the window, stood looking through it steadily, as if some beautiful landscape lay beyond, which she was examining through the gorgeous coloring, and which admitted of nothing beyond its own richness. It was a gloomy day outside, and her face looked more sorrowfully sombre from all our surroundings. I had arisen and was going toward her, when the door opened and Mr. Lee came in. How much the father and child looked alike at the moment! I had never seen either of them so imperial in their anger before. Mr. Lee did not observe me, I think, but he walked across the library and laid one hand on Jessie's shoulder as she stood with her back toward him. She drew aside and looked up in her father's face. "Jessie," he said, "what is the meaning of this? What have you been saying to wound Mrs. Dennison so terribly?" Jessie struggled with herself; I could detect it by the blue veins that rose along her neck and forehead; but her countenance changed in nothing, and she answered his stern question steadily. "I have done nothing that should wound Mrs. Dennison, father." "But I left you at the breakfast-table with our guest tranquil as usual. When I came back, you were gone, and I found her in tears." "I cannot answer for the lady's tears, father. She was shedding none when I came out of the breakfast-room." "This is an evasion, Jessie. I insist upon knowing what passed between you and our guest after I left the room." "You have a right to question me, father; but indeed I cannot tell you. Mrs. Dennison said something about what we should do next winter; and I looked at her a moment, in displeasure perhaps, for she has already stayed far beyond the time usual for our guests; and I am not aware that any one has extended a second invitation to her. I certainly have not." Mr. Lee's face darkened. "And is this what you have done?--given her one of your haughty looks, and at my table, Jessie Lee?" "Father!" "Do not call me father. Do not speak to me again until you have apologized to the lady for this rudeness." Mr. Lee's voice was stern, almost cruel, as he said this. Jessie grew pale as death. "Father, I cannot apologize for anything I have done; it is impossible when the lady entered a complaint to you--" Mr. Lee interrupted her. "Mrs. Dennison entered no complaint." "Oh, father! and you were ready to condemn me without a word. When was this so before?" "When were you rebellious before?" Jessie's lips began to quiver. "When did we have trouble like this? When was it that we became a divided family?" she said. "Never till I was unhappy enough to invite this lady here."