But Dr. Eben had her two cold hands in his. “No, Hetty,” he said, “come right back into the room: Raby is so sound asleep it will not wake him; and Sally is asleep too;” and he led her slowly towards the door. The night-lamp was burning low; its pale flame, and the flickering blaze of the big hickory logs on the hearth, made a glimmering twilight, whose fantastic lights and shadows shot out through the door-way into the gloom of the hall. As the first of these lights fell on Hetty's face, Dr. Eben started to see how white it was. Involuntarily he put his arm around her; and exclaimed “How pale you are, my poor Hetty! you are all worn out;” and, half supporting her with his arm, he laid his free hand gently on her hair.
Hetty was very tired; very cold; half asleep, and half frightened. She dropped her head on his shoulder for a second, and said: “Oh, what a comfort you are!”
The words had hardly left her lips when Doctor Eben threw both his arms around her, and held her tightly to his breast, whispering:
“Indeed, I will be a comfort to you, Hetty, if you will only let me.”
Hetty struggled and began to speak.
“Hush! you will wake Raby,” he said, and still held her firmly, looking unpityingly down into her face. “You do love me, Hetty,” he whispered triumphantly.
The front stick on the fire broke, fell in two blazing upright brands to right and left, and cast a sudden flood of light on the two figures in the door-way. Sally and Raby slept on. Still Doctor Eben held Hetty close, and looked with a keen and exultant gaze into her eyes.
“It isn't fair when I am so cold and sleepy,” whispered Hetty, with a half twinkle in her half-open eyes.
“It is fair! It is fair! Any thing is fair! Every thing is fair,” exclaimed the doctor in a whisper which seemed to ring like a shout, and he kissed Hetty again and again. Still Sally and Raby slept on: the hickory fire leaped up as in joy; and a sudden wind shook the windows.
Hetty struggled once more to free herself, but the arms were like arms of oak.