“Her name is Henrietta Henderson,” said the stranger.
“Why, that is my name!” ejaculated Miss Hetty.
“And she was named after you,” said the stranger, composedly.
“Why, who in the world are you?” she asked, her heart beginning to beat unwontedly fast.
“Then you don’t remember me?” said he, rising, and looking steadily at Miss Hetty. “Yet you knew me well in bygone days,—none better. At one time, it was thought you would join your destiny to mine——”
“Nick Anderson!” said Miss Hetty, rising in confusion.
“You are right. You rejected me because you did not feel secure of my principles. The next day, in despair at your refusal, I left the house, and, ere forty-eight hours had passed, was on my way to India. I had not formed the design of going to India in particular; but, in my then state of mind, I cared not whither I went. One resolution I formed,—that I would prove by my conduct that your apprehensions were ill founded. I got into a profitable business. In time, I married; not that I had forgotten you, but that I was solitary, and needed companionship. I had ceased to hope for yours. By and by, a daughter was born. True to my old love, I named her Hetty, and pleased myself with the thought that she bore some resemblance to you. Afterwards my wife died; misfortunes came upon me; and I found myself deprived of all my property. Then came yearnings for my native soil. I have returned (as you see), not as I departed, but poor and care-worn.”
While Nicholas was speaking, Miss Hetty’s mind was filled with conflicting emotions. At length, extending her hand frankly, she said,—
“I feel that I was too hasty, Nicholas. I should have tried you longer. But, at least, I may repair my injustice. I have enough for us all. You shall come and live with me.”