“At home,” answered the doctor; and his countenance clouded at the memory of his last interview with her. Hetty's fears misinterpreted the reply and the sudden cloud on his face.
“Is she—did you—where is her home?” she stammered.
A great light broke in on Dr. Eben's mind.
“Good God!” he cried. “Hetty, it is not possible that you thought I loved Rachel?”
“No,” said Hetty. “I only thought you could love her, if it were right; and if I were dead it would be.”
A look of horror deepened on the doctor's face. The idea thus suggested to his mind was terrible.
“And supposing I had loved her, thinking you were dead, what then? Do you know what you would have done?” he said sternly.
“I think you would have been very happy,” replied Hetty, simply. “I have always thought of you as being probably very happy.”
Dr. Eben groaned aloud.
“Oh, Hetty! Hetty! How could God have let you think such thoughts? Hetty!” he exclaimed suddenly, with the manner of one who has taken a new resolve: “Hetty, listen. We must not talk about this terrible past. It is impossible for me to be just to you. If any other woman had done what you have done, I should say she must be mad, or else wicked.”