“Yes, I could not stay,” Sobbed Hester. “I was obliged to come. Oh, Bessy, dear Bessy, don’t shrink from me,” she wailed, as the men gladly drew away and left them together.
“Hush! don’t say a word here,” said Bessy, glancing round, and speaking hoarsely; “come down to my cabin.”
Hester tottered, and would have fallen, but Bessy caught her arm and led her below, where, as soon as they were alone, the former fell upon her knees, and held up her hands, catching those of Bessy as she stood before her.
“Listen to me, Miss Studwick,” she moaned. “Don’t condemn me unheard. I thought you believed in me, but you shrank from me just now.”
Bessy did not speak, but gazed down on the sobbing woman with a look of pity.
“My dear husband has allowed cruel suspicions to creep into his heart, and he wrongs me—he does, indeed. Oh, Bessy, Bessy, you loved him once, I know, I know you did, and you must have hated me for taking his love from you.”
A low sigh burst from Bessy’s breast, but she did not speak.
“You know,” sobbed Hester, “how true and noble and frank he is.”
“I do,” said Bessy softly.
“Then, what would the woman be who could betray him, even in thought? Would she not be the vilest, the most cruel of wretches?”