Like one stung suddenly by some insupportable pain, he wrenched her hands from his knees, sprang to his feet, and walked swiftly back and forth. She remained kneeling by the chair, looking up at him with a most piteous face. “Hetty,” he exclaimed, “you must be patient with me. Try and imagine what it is to have believed for ten years that you were dead; to have mourned you as dead; to have spent ten whole years of weary, comfortless days; and then to find suddenly that you have been all this time living,--voluntarily hiding yourself from me; needlessly torturing me! Why, Hetty! Hetty! you must have been mad. You must be mad now, I think, to kneel there and tell me all these details so calmly, and in such a matter-of-fact way. Do you realize what a monstrous thing you have been doing?” And Dr. Eben's eyes blazed with a passionate indignation, as he stopped short in his excited walk and looked down upon Hetty. Then, in the next second, touched by the look on her uplifted face, so noble, so pure, so benevolent, he forgot all his resentment, all his perplexity, all his pain; and, stooping over her, he lifted her from her knees, and, folding her close to his bosom, exclaimed: “Oh, my Hetty, my own; forgive me. I am the one that is mad. How can I think of any thing except the joy of having found you again? No wonder I thought at first we were both dead. Oh, my precious wife, is it really you? Are you sure we are alive?” And he kissed her again and again,--hair, brow, eyes, lips,--with a solemn rapture. A great silence fell upon them: there seemed no more to say. Suddenly, Dr. Eben exclaimed: “Rachel said she did not believe you were dead.” At mention of Rachel's name, a spasm crossed Hetty's face. In the excitement of her mingled terror and joy, she had not yet thought of Rachel. “Where is Rachel?” she gasped, her very heart standing still as she asked the question. “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.