hen Hetty, following him into the hall, stood shyly by his side,
and looking up into his face said inquiringly, "Doctor?" he answered her
as she had answered him, a short time before, with the curt
monosyllable, "Well?" His tone was curter than his words. Hetty colored,
and saying gently, "No matter; nothing now," turned away. Her whole
movement was so significant of wounded feeling that it smote Doctor
Eben's heart. He sprang after her and laid his hand on her arm. "Hetty,"
he said, "do tell me what it was you were going to say; I did not mean
to hurt your feelings: but I don't know what to make of you."

"Not--know--what--to--make--of--me!" repeated Hetty, very slowly, in a
tone of the intensest astonishment.

"You wouldn't say you loved me," replied the doctor, beginning to feel a
little ashamed of himself.

Hetty's eyes were fixed on his now, with no wavering in their gaze. She
looked at him, as if her life lay in the balance of what she might read
in his face.

"Did you not know that I loved you before you asked me to say so?" she
said with emphasis. It was the doctor's turn now to color. He answered
evasively:

"A man has no right to know that, Hetty, until a woman tells him so."

"Did you not think that I loved you," repeated Hetty, with the same
emphasis, and a graver expression on her face.

Dr. Eben hesitated. Already, he felt a sort of fear of the incalculable
processes and changes in this woman's mind. Would she be angry if he
said, he had thought she loved him? Would she be sure to recognize any
equivocation, and be angrier at that?

"Hetty," he said, taking her hand in his, "I did hope very strongly that
you loved me, or else I should never have asked you to say so; but you
ought to be willing to say so, if it be true. Think how many times I
have said it to you."

Hetty's eyes did not leave his: their expression deepened until they
seemed to darken and enlarge. She did not speak.

"Will you not say it now, Hetty?" urged the doctor.

"I can't," replied Hetty, and turned and walked slowly away. Presently
she turned again, and walked swiftly back to him, and exclaimed:

"What do you suppose is the reason it is so hard for me to say it?"

Dr. Eben laughed. "I can't imagine, Hetty. The only thing that is hard
for me, is not to keep saying it all the time."

Hetty smiled.

"There must be something wrong in me. I think I shall never say it. But
I suppose"--She hesitated, and her eyes twinkled. "