The windows were open, and we knew that this heaven of sweet sounds would float to the invalid's chamber. Indeed, when I went out upon the platform, back of the house, I saw Mrs. Lee lying in her white, loose dress, on the couch, as if the music had lulled her to sleep. I think Mrs. Dennison was not quite satisfied with herself. The glorious voice of our Jessie seemed to take her by surprise, for after the first trial she refused to sing again, but still kept the piano, and dashed through some fine opera music with spirit. Was she exhausting her ill-humor in those stormy sounds? On the next day, our young ladies rode on horseback. Both were superb equestrians; and Mr. Lee's stately management of his coal-black horse was something worth looking at. As they dashed round a curve of the road, Jessie turned on her saddle and waved me a kiss, where I stood on the square balcony watching them. What a happy, bright creature she looked! It took me by surprise; but when the equestrians came back, two gentlemen had joined the party. One was young Bosworth, who had returned to the old country place, a mile down the valley, directly after we left Long Branch, and since then had managed to join our Jessie in her rides oftener than any supposition of mere accident could warrant. The dear girl seemed a little annoyed when these meetings became more frequent; but she bore our joking on the subject pleasantly, and up to that morning had, I fancy, given little thought to his movements. The other man I recognized at once. It was Mr. Lawrence. This gentleman rode up with Mr. Lee and Mrs. Dennison, who was evidently dividing her fascinations very equally between the two gentlemen. Jessie followed them with her cavalier, and I observed, as they dismounted, that her cheeks were flushed, and her lips lightly curved, as if something had disturbed her. The gentlemen did not dismount, for Jessie left Mrs. Dennison on the foot of the terrace-steps, and, without pausing to give an invitation, ran into the house. I left the balcony and went up to her chamber. She was walking to and fro in the room, with a quick, proud step, the tears sparkling in her eyes. "What is it?" I said, going up to where she stood, and kissing her. "Who has wounded you?" "No one," she answered, and the proud tears flashed down to her cheek, and lay there like rain-drops hanging on the leaves of the wild rose,--"no one. Only, only--" "Well, dear?" "You were right, Aunt Matty. That man really had just the feelings you suspected; I could hardly prevent him from expressing them broadly. Keep as close to papa as I would, he found means to say things that made my blood burn. What right has any man to talk of love to a girl, until she has given him some sort of encouragement, I should like to know?" "But perhaps he fancies that you have given him a little encouragement." "Encouragement! I? Indeed, Aunt Matty, I never dreamed of this until now!"