Hester looked at him sharply. How came he to put that question? What was he driving at?
"Why, yes," she assured him. "I want to stay, if you are satisfied with me."
"You have no intention of going away? No thought of returning to America?"
"No," she said, disturbed by his persistence. "Why do you ask me that?"
"I thought perhaps your family in America—or your friends——"
She shook her head sadly. "I have no family. No friends. I am all alone."
"You have no father or mother? No brother? No sister?"
Again she shook her head. There was no particular reason why she should lie about Rosalie, except that her sister was too sacred a thing in Hester's life to be mentioned lightly. And she failed to see what difference it could possibly make to this queer little man whether she said that she had a sister or had no sister.
But it made a great difference to Horatio, for Hester's denial of Rosalie came as a crushing culmination to her other falsehoods. She had lied in declaring that she had no special purpose in visiting Ippingford. She had lied in saying she was not planning a return to America. And now she had lied about her sister. The moment had come for Merle to strike. His trap was ready, his victim helpless and defenseless; he had only to touch the spring, or, more precisely, to produce the accusing letter.
Horatio sat silent, looking out over the lake now bathed in its full summer splendor. What a glory of color! What a profusion of life and joy of life! The birds, the insects, the myriad creatures of field and wood and lake, all happy in their several ways! There were the thrushes calling!