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diff --git a/16662-h/16662-h.htm b/16662-h/16662-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ecfc0b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/16662-h/16662-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,21242 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bad Hugh, by Mary Jane Holmes</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + + .smcaps {font-variant: small-caps} + .center { padding: 0.8em; text-indent: 0em; text-align: center;} + .quote {text-align: justify; margin-left: 3em; margin-right: 2em; text-indent: .75em;} + .noindent {text-indent: 0em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bad Hugh, by Mary Jane Holmes</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Bad Hugh<br /> +or, The Diamond in the Rough</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mary Jane Holmes</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 5, 2005 [eBook #16662]<br /> +[Most recently updated: July 2, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Garcia, Maria Khomenko, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAD HUGH ***</div> + +<h1>BAD HUGH</h1> + +<h3>or,<br /> +The Diamond in the Rough</h3> + +<h4> +By</h4> + +<h2>Mary J. Holmes +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +Author of "Lena Rivers", "Tempest and Sunshine",<br/> +"Meadow Brook", "The English Orphans", etc., etc. +</p> + +<p class="center">GROSSET & DUNLAP<br/> +PUBLISHERS<br/> +NEW YORK</p> + +<h4>1900</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h2> + CONTENTS +</h2> +<table summary="Table of Contents" width="80%"> +<tr><td>CHAPTER</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0001">I. Spring Bank</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0002">II. What Rover Found</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0003">III. Hugh's Soliloquy</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0004">IV. Terrace Hill</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0005">V. Anna and John</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0006">VI. Alice Johnson</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0007">VII. Riverside Cottage</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0008">VIII. Mr. Liston and the Doctor</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0009">IX. Matters in Kentucky</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0010">X. Lina's Purchase and Hugh's</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0011">XI. Sam and Adah</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0012">XII. What Followed</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0013">XIII. How Hugh Paid His Debts</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0014">XIV. Mrs. Johnson's Letter</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0015">XV. Saratoga</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0016">XVI. The Columbian</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0017">XVII. Hugh</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0018">XVIII. Meeting of Alice and Hugh</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0019">XIX. Alice and Muggins</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0020">XX. Poor Hugh</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0021">XXI. Alice and Adah</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0022">XXII. Waking to Consciousness</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0023">XXIII. Lina's Letter</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0024">XXIV. Foreshadowings</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0025">XXV. Talking with Hugh</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0026">XXVI. The Day of the Sale</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0027">XXVII. The Sale</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0028">XXVIII. The Ride</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0029">XXIX. Hugh and Alice</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0030">XXX. Adah's Journey</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0031">XXXI. The Convict</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0032">XXXII. Adah at Terrace Hill</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0033">XXXIII. Anna and Adah</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0034">XXXIV. Rose Markham</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0035">XXXV. The Result</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0036">XXXVI. Excitement</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0037">XXXVII. Matters at Spring Bank</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0038">XXXVIII. The Day of the Wedding</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0039">XXXIX. The Convict's Story</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0040">XL. Poor 'Lina</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0041">XLI. Tidings</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0042">XLII. Irving Stanley</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0043">XLIII. Letters from Hugh and Irving Stanley</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0044">XLIV. The Deserter</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0045">XLV. The Second Battle of Bull Run</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0046">XLVI. How Sam Came There</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0047">XLVII. Finding Hugh</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0048">XLVIII. Going Home</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#h2HCH0049">XLIX. Conclusion</a></td></tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> + BAD HUGH +</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0001" id="h2HCH0001"></a> + CHAPTER I +</h2> +<h3> + SPRING BANK +</h3> +<p> +A large, old-fashioned, weird-looking wooden building, with +strangely shaped bay windows and stranger gables projecting +here and there from the slanting roof, where the green moss +clung in patches to the moldy shingles, or formed a groundwork +for the nests the swallows built year after year beneath the +decaying eaves. Long, winding piazzas, turning sharp, sudden +angles, and low, square porches, where the summer sunshine +held many a fantastic dance, and where the winter storm +piled up its drifts of snow, whistling merrily as it worked, and +shaking the loosened casement as it went whirling by. Huge +trees of oak and maple, whose topmost limbs had borne and cast +the leaf for nearly a century of years, tall evergreens, among +whose boughs the autumn wind ploughed mournfully, making +sad music for those who cared to listen, and adding to the loneliness +which, during many years, had invested the old place. A +wide spreading grassy lawn, with the carriage road winding +through it, over the running brook, and onward 'neath graceful +forest trees, until it reached the main highway, a distance of +nearly half a mile. A spacious garden in the rear, with bordered +walks and fanciful mounds, with climbing roses and creeping +vines showing that somewhere there was a taste, a ruling hand, +which, while neglecting the somber building and suffering it to +decay, lavished due care upon the grounds, and not on these +alone, but also on the well-kept barns, and the whitewashed +dwellings in front, where numerous, happy, well-fed negroes +lived and lounged, for ours is a Kentucky scene, and Spring +Bank a Kentucky home. +</p> + +<p> +As we have described it so it was on a drear December night, +when a fearful storm, for that latitude, was raging, and the +snow lay heaped against the fences, or sweeping-down from the +bending trees, drifted against the doors, and beat against the +windows, whence a cheerful light was gleaming, telling of life +and possible happiness within. There were no flowing curtains +before the windows, no drapery sweeping to the floor, nothing +save blinds without and simple shades within, neither of which +were doing service now, for the master of the house would have +it so in spite of his sister's remonstrances. +</p> + +<p> +Some one might lose their way on that terrible night, he said, +and the blaze of the fire on the hearth, which could be seen from +afar, would be to them a beacon light to guide them on their +way. Nobody would look in upon them, as Adaline, or 'Lina as +she chose to be called, and as all did call her except himself, +seemed to think there might, and even if they did, why need +she care? To be sure she was not quite as fixey as she was on +pleasant days when there was a possibility of visitors, and her +cheeks were not quite so red, but she was looking well enough, +and she'd undone all those little tags or braids which disfigured +her so shockingly in the morning, but which, when brushed and +carefully arranged, did give her hair that waving appearance +she so much desired. As for himself, he never meant to do anything +of which he was ashamed, so he did not care how many +were watching him through the window, and stamping his +heavy boots upon the rug, for he had just come in from the +storm Hugh Worthington piled fresh fuel upon the fire, and, +shaking back the mass of short brown curls which had fallen +upon his forehead, strode across the room and arranged the +shades to his own liking, paying no heed when his more fastidious +sister, with a frown upon her dark, handsome face, muttered +something about the "Stanley taste." +</p> + +<p> +"There, Kelpie, lie there," he continued, returning to the +hearth, and, addressing a small, white, shaggy dog, which, with +a human look in its round, pink eyes, obeyed the voice it knew +and loved, and crouched down in the corner at a safe distance +from the young lady, whom it seemed instinctively to know as +an enemy. +</p> + +<p> +"Do, pray, Hugh, let the dirty things stay where they are," +'Lina exclaimed, as she saw her brother walk toward the dining-room, +and guessed his errand. "Nobody wants a pack of dogs +under their feet. I wonder you don't bring in your pet horse, +saddle and all." +</p> + +<p> +"I did want to when I heard how piteously he cried after +me as I left the stable to-night," said Hugh, at the same time +opening a door leading out upon a back piazza, and, uttering a +peculiar whistle, which brought around him at once the pack of +dogs which so annoyed his sister. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd be a savage altogether if I were you!" was the sister's +angry remark, to which Hugh paid no heed. +</p> + +<p> +It was his house, his fire, and if he chose to have his dogs +there, he should, for all of Ad, but when the pale, gentle-looking +woman, knitting so quietly in her accustomed chair, looked up +and said imploringly: +</p> + +<p> +"Please turn them into the kitchen, they'll surely be comfortable +there," he yielded at once, for that pale, gentle woman, was +his mother, and, to her wishes, Hugh was generally obedient. +</p> + +<p> +The room was cleared of all its canine occupants, save Kelpie, +who Hugh insisted should remain, the mother resumed her knitting, +and Adaline her book, while Hugh sat down before the +blazing fire, and, with his hands crossed above his head, went +on into a reverie, the nature of which his mother, who was +watching him, could not guess; and when at last she asked of +what he was thinking so intently, he made her no reply. He +could hardly have told himself, so varied were the thoughts +crowding upon his brain that wintry night. Now they were of +the eccentric old man, who had been to him a father, and from +whom he had received Spring Bank, together with the many +peculiar ideas which made him the strange, odd creature he was, +a puzzle and a mystery to his own sex, and a kind of terror to +the female portion of the neighborhood, who looked upon him +as a woman-hater, and avoided or coveted his not altogether disagreeable +society, just as their fancy dictated. For years the +old man and the boy had lived together alone in that great, +lonely house, enjoying vastly the freedom from all restraint, the +liberty of turning the parlors into kennels if they chose, and +converting the upper rooms into a hay-loft, if they would. No +white woman was ever seen upon the premises, unless she came +as a beggar, when some new gown, or surplice, or organ, or +chandelier, was needed for the pretty little church, lifting its +modest spire so unobtrusively among the forest trees, not very +far from Spring Bank. John Stanley didn't believe in churches; +nor gowns, nor organs, nor women, but he was proverbially +liberal, and so the fair ones of Glen's Creek neighborhood ventured +into his den, finding it much pleasanter to do so after +the handsome, dark-haired boy came to live with him; for +about that frank, outspoken boy there was then something very +attractive to the little girls, while their mothers pitied him, +wondering why he had been permitted to come there, and watching +for the change in him, which was sure to ensue. +</p> + +<p> +Not all at once did Hugh conform to the customs of his +uncle's household, and at first there often came over him a longing +for something different, a yearning for the refinements of +his early home among the Northern hills, and a wish to infuse +into Chloe, the colored housekeeper, some of his mother's neatness. +But a few attempts at reform had taught him how futile +was the effort, Aunt Chloe always meeting him with the argument: +</p> + +<p> +"'Taint no use, Mr. Hugh. A nigger's a nigger; and I spec' +ef you're to talk to me till you was hoarse 'bout your Yankee +ways of scrubbin', and sweepin', and moppin' with a broom, I +shouldn't be an atomer white-folksey than I is now. Besides +Mas'r John, wouldn't bar no finery; he's only happy when the +truck is mighty nigh a foot thick, and his things is lyin' round +loose and handy." +</p> + +<p> +To a certain extent this was true, for John Stanley would +have felt sadly out of place in any spot where, as Chloe said, +"his things were not lying round loose and handy," and as habit +is everything, so Hugh soon grew accustomed to his surroundings, +and became as careless of his external appearance as his +uncle could desire. Only once had there come to him an awakening—a +faint conception of the happiness there might arise +from constant association with the pure and refined, such as his +uncle had labored to make him believe did not exist. He was +thinking of that incident now, and as he thought the veins upon +his broad, white forehead stood out round and full, while the +hands clasped above the head worked nervously together, and +it was not strange that he did not heed his mother when she +spoke, for Hugh was far away from Spring Bank, and the +wild storm beating against its walls was to him like the sound +of the waves dashing against the vessel's side, just as they did +years ago on that night he remembered so well, shuddering as +he heard again the murderous hiss of the devouring flames, +covering the fatal boat with one sheet of fire, and driving into +the water as a safer friend the shrieking, frightened wretches +who but an hour before had been so full of life and hope, dancing +gayly above the red-tongued demon stealthily creeping upward +from the hold below, where it had taken life. What a fearful +scene that was, and the veins grew larger on Hugh's brow while +his broad chest heaved with something like a stifled sob as he +recalled the little childish form to which he had clung so madly +until the cruel timber struck from him all consciousness, and +he let that form go down—down 'neath the treacherous waters +of Lake Erie never to come up again alive, for so his uncle told +when, weeks after the occurrence, he awoke from the delirious +fever which ensued and listened to the sickening detail. +</p> + +<p> +"Lost, my boy, lost with many others," was what his uncle +had said. +</p> + +<p> +He heard the words as plainly now as when they first were +spoken, remembering how his uncle's voice had faltered, and +how the thought had flashed upon his mind that John Stanley's +heart was not as hard toward womenkind as people had supposed. +"Lost"—there was a world of meaning in that word +to Hugh more than any one had ever guessed, and, though it +was but a child he lost, yet in the quiet night, when all else +around Spring Bank was locked in sleep, he often lay thinking +of that child and of what he might perhaps have been had she +been spared to him. He was thinking of her now, and as he +thought visions of a sweet, pale face, shadowed with curls of +golden hair, came up before his mind, and he saw again the look +of bewildered surprise and pain which shone in the soft, blue +eyes and illumined every feature when in an unguarded moment +he gave vent to the half infidel principles he had learned +from his uncle. Her creed was different from his, and she explained +it to him so earnestly, so tearfully, that he had said to +her at last he did but jest to hear what she would say, and, +though she seemed satisfied, he felt there was a shadow between +them—a shadow which was not swept away, even after he promised +to read the little Bible she gave him and see for himself +whether he or she were right. He had that Bible now hidden +away where no curious eye could find it, and carefully folded between +its leaves was a curl of golden hair. It was faded now, and +its luster was almost gone, but as often as he looked upon it, it +brought to mind the bright head it once adorned, and the fearful +hour when he became its owner. That tress and the Bible which +inclosed it had made Hugh Worthington a better man. He +did not often read the Bible, it is true, and his acquaintances +were frequently startled with opinions which had so pained the +little girl on board the<i>St. Helena</i>, but this was merely on the +surface, for far below the rough exterior there was a world of +goodness, a mine of gems, kept bright by memories of the angel +child which flitted for so brief a span across his pathway and +then was lost forever. He had tried so hard to save her—had +clasped her so fondly to his bosom when with extended arms +she came to him for aid. He could save her, he said—he could +swim to the shore with perfect ease and so without a moment's +hesitation she had leaped with him into the surging waves, and +that was about the last he could remember, save that he clutched +frantically at the long, golden hair streaming above the water, +retaining in his firm grasp the lock which no one at Spring +Bank had ever seen, for this one romance of Hugh's seemingly +unromantic life was a secret with himself. No one save his +uncle had witnessed his emotions when told that she was dead; +no one else had seen his bitter tears or heard the vehement exclamation: +"You've tried to teach me there was no hereafter, +no heaven for such as she, but I know better now, and I am glad +there is, for she is safe forever." +</p> + +<p> +These were not mere idle words, and the belief then expressed +became with Hugh Worthington a firm, fixed principle, +which his skeptical uncle tried in vain to eradicate. "There +was a heaven, and she was there," comprised nearly the whole +of Hugh's religious creed, if we except a vague, misty hope, that +he, too, would some day find her, how or by what means he never +seriously inquired; only this he knew, it would be through her +influence, which even now followed him everywhere, producing +its good effects. It had checked him many and many a time +when his fierce temper was in the ascendant, forcing back the +harsh words he would otherwise have spoken, and making him as +gentle as a child; and when the temptations to which young +men of his age are exposed were spread out alluringly before +him, a single thought of her was sufficient to lead him from the +forbidden ground. +</p> + +<p> +Only once had he fallen, and that two years before, when, as +if some demon had possessed him, he shook off all remembrances +of the past, and yielding to the baleful fascinations of one who +seemed to sway him at will, plunged into a tide of dissipation, +and lent himself at last to an act which had since embittered +every waking hour. As if all the events of his life were crowding +upon his memory this night, he thought of two years ago, and +the scene which transpired in the suburbs of New York, whither +immediately after his uncle's death he had gone upon a matter +of important business. In the gleaming fire before him there +was now another face than hers, an older, a different, though +not less beautiful face, and Hugh shuddered as he thought how +it must have changed ere this—thought of the anguish which +stole into the dark, brown eyes when first the young girl learned +how cruelly she had been betrayed. Why hadn't he saved her? +What had she done to him that he should treat her so, and +where was she now? Possibly she was dead. He almost hoped +she was, for if she were, the two were then together, his golden-haired +and brown, for thus he designated the two. +</p> + +<p> +Larger and fuller grew the veins upon his forehead, as memory +kept thus faithfully at work, and so absorbed was Hugh in his +reverie that until twice repeated he did not hear his mother's +anxious inquiry: +</p> + +<p> +"What is that noise? It sounds like some one in distress." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh started at last, and, after listening for a moment he, +too, caught the sound which had so alarmed his mother, and +made 'Lina stop her reading. A moaning cry, as if for help, +mingled with an infant's wail, now here, now there it seemed +to be, just as the fierce north wind shifted its course and drove +first at the uncurtained window of the sitting-room, and then +at the ponderous doors of the gloomy hall. +</p> + +<p> +"It is some one in the storm, though I can't imagine why +any one should be abroad to-night," Hugh said, going to the +window and peering out into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"Lyd's child, most likely. Negro young ones are always +squalling, and I heard her tell Aunt Chloe at supper time that +Tommie had the colic," 'Lina remarked opening again the book +she was reading, and with a slight shiver drawing nearer to the +fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going, my son?" asked Mrs. Worthington, +as Hugh arose to leave the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Going to Lyd's cabin, for if Tommie is sick enough to make +his screams heard above the storm, she may need some help," was +Hugh's reply, and a moment after he was ploughing his way +through the drifts which lay between the house and the negro +quarters. +</p> + +<p> +"How kind and thoughtful he is," the mother said, softly, +more to herself than to her daughter, who nevertheless quickly +rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, kind to niggers, and horses, and dogs, I'll admit, but +let me, or any other white woman come before him as an object +of pity, and the tables are turned at once. I wonder what does +make him hate women so." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe he does," Mrs. Worthington replied. "His +uncle, you know, was very unfortunate in his marriage, and had +a way of judging all our sex by his wife. Living with him as +long as Hugh did, it's natural he should imbibe a few of his +ideas." +</p> + +<p> +"A few," 'Lina repeated, "better say all, for John Stanley +and Hugh Worthington are as near alike as an old and young +man well could be. What an old codger he was though, and +how like a savage he lived here. I never shall forget how the +house looked the day we came, or how satisfied Hugh seemed +when he met us at the gate, and said, 'everything was in spendid +order,'" and closing her book, the young lady laughed merrily +as she recalled the time when she first crossed her brother's +threshold, stepping, as she affirmed, over half a dozen dogs, and +as many squirming kittens, catching her foot in some fishing +tackle, finding tobacco in the china closet, and segars in the +knife box, where they had been put to get them out of the way. +</p> + +<p> +"But Hugh really did his best for us," mildly interposed the +mother. "Don't you remember what the servants said about his +cleaning one floor himself because he knew they were tired!" +</p> + +<p> +"Did it more to save the lazy negroes' steps than from any +regard for our comfort," retorted 'Lina. "At all events he's +been mighty careful since how he gratified my wishes. Sometimes +I believe he perfectly hates me, and wishes I'd never been +born," and tears, which arose from anger, rather than any +wounded sisterly feeling, glittered in 'Lina's black eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh does not hate any one," said Mrs. Worthington, +"much less his sister, though you must admit that you try him +terribly." +</p> + +<p> +"How, I'd like to know?" 'Lina asked, and her mother replied: +</p> + +<p> +"He thinks you proud, and vain, and artificial, and you know +he abhors deceit above all else. Why, he'd cut off his right hand +sooner than tell a lie." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw!" was 'Lina's contemptuous response, then after a +moment she continued: "I wonder how we came to be so different. +He must be like his father, and I like mine—that is, +supposing I know who he is. Wouldn't it be funny if, just to +be hateful, he had sent you back the wrong child?" +</p> + +<p> +"What made you think of that?" Mrs. Worthington asked, +quickly, and 'Lina replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, nothing, only the last time Hugh had one of his tantrums, +and got so outrageously angry at me, because I made +Mr. Bostwick think my hair was naturally curly, he said he'd +give all he owned if it were so, but I reckon he'll never have his +wish. There's too much of old Sam about me to admit of a +doubt," and half spitefully, half playfully she touched the spot +in the center of her forehead known as her birthmark. +</p> + +<p> +When not excited it could scarcely be discerned at all, but +the moment she was aroused, the delicate network of veins +stood out round and full, forming what seemed to be a tiny +hand without the thumb. It showed a little now in the firelight, +and Mrs. Worthington shuddered as she glanced at what +brought so vividly before her the remembrance of other and +wretched days. Adaline observed the shudder and hastened to +change the conversation from herself to Hugh, saying by way +of making some amends for her unkind remarks: "It really is +kind in him to give me a home when I have no particular claim +upon him, and I ought to respect him for that. I am glad, too, +that Mr. Stanley made it a condition in his will that if Hugh +ever married, he should forfeit the Spring Bank property, as +that provides against the possibility of an upstart wife coming +here some day and turning us, or at least me, into the street. +Say, mother, are you not glad that Hugh can never marry even +if he wishes to do so, which is not very probable." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not so sure of that," returned Mrs. Worthington, +smoothing, with her small, fat hands the bright worsted cloud +she was knitting, a feminine employment for which she had a +weakness. "I am not so sure of that. Suppose Hugh should +fancy a person whose fortune was much larger than the one left +him by Uncle John, do you think he would let it pass just for +the sake of holding Spring Bank?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps not," 'Lina replied; "but there's no possible danger +of any one's fancying Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +"And why not?" quickly interrupted the mother. "He has +the kindest heart in the world, and is certainly fine-looking if +he would only dress decently." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm much obliged for your compliment, mother," Hugh said, +laughingly, as he stepped suddenly into the room and laid his +hand caressingly on his mother's head, thus showing that even +he was not insensible to flattery. "Have you heard that sound +again?" he continued. "It wasn't Tommie, for I found him +asleep, and I've been all around the house, but could discover +nothing. The storm is beginning to abate, I think, and the +moon is trying to break through the clouds," and, going again to +the window, Hugh looked out into the yard, where the shrubbery +and trees were just discernible in the grayish light of the +December moon. "That's a big drift by the lower gate," he +continued; "and queer shaped, too. Come see, mother. Isn't +that a shawl, or an apron, or something blowing in the wind?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington arose, and, joining her son, looked in the +direction indicated, where a garment of some kind was certainly +fluttering in the gale. +</p> + +<p> +"It's something from the wash, I guess," she said. "I thought +all the time Hannah had better not hang out the clothes, as some +of them were sure to be lost." +</p> + +<p> +This explanation was quite satisfactory to Mrs. Worthington, +but that strange drift by the gate troubled Hugh, and the signal +above it seemed to him like a signal of distress. Why should the +snow drift there more than elsewhere? He never knew it do so +before. He had half a mind to turn out the dogs, and see what +that would do. +</p> + +<p> +"Rover," he called, suddenly, as he advanced to the rear room, +where, among his older pets, was a huge Newfoundland, of +great sagacity. "Rover, Rover, I want you." +</p> + +<p> +In an instant the whole pack were upon him, jumping and +fawning, and licking the hands which had never dealt them +aught save kindness. It was only Rover, however, who was this +time wanted, and leading him to the door, Hugh pointed toward +the gate, and bade him see what was there. Snuffing slightly at +the storm, which was not over yet, Rover started down the +walk, while Hugh stood waiting in the door. At first Rover's +steps were slow and uncertain, but as he advanced they increased +in rapidity, until, with a sudden bound and cry, such as dogs +are wont to give when they have caught their destined prey, +he sprang upon the mysterious ridge, and commenced digging it +down with his paws. +</p> + +<p> +"Easy, Rover—be careful," Hugh called from the door, and +instantly the half-savage growl which the wind had brought to +his ear was changed into a piteous cry, as if the faithful creature +were answering back that other help than his was needed +there. +</p> + +<p> +Rover had found something in that pile of snow. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0002" id="h2HCH0002"></a> + CHAPTER II +</h2> +<h3> + WHAT ROVER FOUND +</h3> +<p> +Unmindful of the sleet beating upon his uncovered head Hugh +hastened to the spot, where the noble brute was licking a face, +a baby face, which he had ferreted out from beneath the shawl +trapped so carefully around it to shield it from the cold, for +instead of one there were two in that rift of snow—a mother +and her child! That stiffened form lying there so still, hugging +that sleeping child so closely to its bosom, was no delusion, +and his mother's voice calling to know what he was doing +brought Hugh back at Last to a consciousness that he must act, +and that immediately. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother," he screamed, "send a servant here, quick! or let +Ad come herself. There's a woman dead, I fear. I can carry +her, but the child, Ad must come for her." +</p> + +<p> +"The what?" gasped Mrs. Worthington, who, terrified beyond +measure at the mention of a-dead woman, was doubly so at +hearing of a child. "A child," she repeated, "whose child?" +</p> + +<p> +Hugh, made no reply save an order that the lounge should be +brought near the fire and a pillow from his mother's bed. "From +mine, then," he added, as he saw the anxious look in his mother's +face, and guessed that she shrank from having her own snowy +pillow come in contact with the wet, limp figure he was depositing +upon the lounge. It was a slight, girlish form, and the +long brown hair, loosened from its confinement, fell in rich +profusion over the pillow which 'Lina brought half reluctantly, +eying askance the insensible object before her, and daintily holding +back her dress lest it should come in contact with the child +her mother had deposited upon the floor, where it lay crying +lustily. +</p> + +<p> +The idea of a strange woman being thrust upon them in this +way was highly displeasing to Miss 'Lina, who haughtily drew +back from the little one when it stretched its arms out toward +her, while its pretty lip quivered and the tears dropped over its +rounded cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Hugh, with all a woman's tenderness, had done +for the now reviving stranger what he could, and as his mother +began to collect her scattered senses and evince some interest +in the matter, he withdrew to call the negroes, judging it prudent +to remain away a while, as his presence might be an intrusion. +From the first he had felt sure that the individual thrown +upon his charity was not a low, vulgar person, as his sister +seemed to think. He had not yet seen her face distinctly, for it +lay in the shadow, but the long, flowing hair, the delicate hands, +the pure white neck, of which he had caught a glimpse as his +mother unfastened the stiffened dress, all these had made an +impression, and involuntarily repeating to himself, "Poor girl, +poor girl," he strode a second time across the drifts which lay +in his back yard, and was soon pounding at old Chloe's cabin +door, bidding her and Hannah dress at once and come immediately +to the house. +</p> + +<p> +An indignant growl at being thus aroused from her first sleep +was Chloe's only response, but Hugh knew that his orders were +being obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +The change of atmosphere and restoratives applied had done +their work, and Mrs. Worthington saw that the long eyelashes +began to tremble, while a faint color stole into the hitherto +colorless cheeks, and at last the large, brown eyes unclosed and +looked into hers with an expression so mournful, so beseeching, +that a thrill of yearning tenderness for the desolate young creature +shot through her heart, and bending down she said, "Are +you better now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, thank you. Where is Willie?" was the low response, +the tone thrilling Mrs. Worthington again with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +Even 'Lina started, it was so musical, and coming near she +answered: "If it's the baby you mean, he is here, playing with +Rover." +</p> + +<p> +There was a look of gratitude in the brown eyes, which closed +again wearily. With her eyes thus closed, 'Lina had a fair opportunity +to scan the beautiful face, with its delicately-chiseled +features, and the wealth of lustrous brown hair, sweeping back +from the open forehead, on which there was perceptible a faint +line, which 'Lina stooped down to examine. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother, mother," she whispered, drawing back, "look, is +not that a mark just like mine?" +</p> + +<p> +Thus appealed to, Mrs. Worthington, too, bent down, but, +upon a closer scrutiny, the mark seemed only a small, blue vein. +</p> + +<p> +"She's pretty," she said. "I wonder why I feel so drawn +toward her?" +</p> + +<p> +'Lina was about to reply, when again the brown eyes looked +up, and the stranger asked hesitatingly: +</p> + +<p> +"Where am I? And is he here! Is this his house?" +</p> + +<p> +"Whose house?" Mrs. Worthington asked. +</p> + +<p> +The girl did not answer at once, and when she did her mind +seemed wandering. +</p> + +<p> +"I waited so long," she said, "but he never came again, only +the letter which broke my heart. Willie was a baby then, and I +almost hated him for a while, but he wasn't to blame. I wasn't +to blame. I'm glad God gave me Willie now, even if he did +take his father from me." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington and her daughter exchanged glances, and +the latter abruptly asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Willie's father?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," came in a wailing sob from the depths of the +pillow. +</p> + +<p> +"Where did you come from?" was the next question. The +young girl looked up in some alarm, and answered meekly: +</p> + +<p> +"From New York. I thought I'd never get here, but everybody +was so kind to me and Willie, and the driver said if +'twan't so late, and he so many passengers, he'd drive across +the fields. He pointed out the way and I came on alone." +</p> + +<p> +The color had faded from Mrs. Worthington's face, and very +timidly she asked again: +</p> + +<p> +"Whom are you looking for? Whom did you hope to find?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Worthington. Does he live here?" was the frank reply; +whereupon 'Lina drew herself up haughtily, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +"I knew it. I've thought so ever since Hugh came home +from New York." +</p> + +<p> +'Lina was about to commence a tirade of abuse, when the +mother interposed, and with an air of greater authority than she +generally assumed toward her imperious daughter, bade her keep +silence while she questioned the stranger, gazing wonderingly +from one to the other, as if uncertain what they meant. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington had no such feelings for the girl as 'Lina +entertained. +</p> + +<p> +"It will be easier to talk with you," she said, leaning forward, +"if I know what to call you." +</p> + +<p> +"Adah," was the response, and the brown eyes, swimming +with tears, sought the face of the questioner with a wistful +eagerness, as if it read there the unmistakable signs of a +friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Adah, you say. Well, then, Adah, why have you come to +my son on such a night as this, and what is he to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Are you his mother?" and Adah started up. "I did not +know he had one. Oh, I'm so glad. And you'll be kind to me, +who never had a mother?" +</p> + +<p> +A person who never had a mother was an anomaly to Mrs. +Worthington, whose powers of comprehension were not the +clearest imaginable. +</p> + +<p> +"Never had a mother!" she repeated. "How can that be?" +</p> + +<p> +A smile flitted for a moment across Adah's face, and then +she answered: +</p> + +<p> +"I never knew a mother's care, I mean." +</p> + +<p> +"But your father? What do you know of him?" said Mrs. +Worthington, and instantly a shadow stole into the sweet young +face, as Adah replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Only this, I was left at a boarding school." +</p> + +<p> +"And Hugh? Where did you meet him? And what is he to +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"The only friend I've got. May I see him, please?" +</p> + +<p> +"First tell what he is to you and to this child," 'Lina rejoined. +Adah answered calmly: +</p> + +<p> +"Your brother might not like to be implicated. I must see +him first—see him alone." +</p> + +<p> +"One thing more," and 'Lina held back her mother, who was +starting in quest of Hugh, "are you a wife?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't, 'Lina," Mrs. Worthington whispered, as she saw the +look of agony pass over Adah's face. "Don't worry her so; +deal kindly by the fallen." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not fallen!" came passionately from the quivering +lips. "I am as true a woman as either of you—look!" and she +pointed to the golden band encircling the third finger. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina was satisfied, and needed no further explanations. To +her, it was plain as daylight. In an unguarded moment, Hugh +had set his uncle's will at naught, and married some poor girl, +whose pretty face had pleased his fancy. How glad 'Lina was +to have this hold upon her brother, and how eagerly she went in +quest of him, keeping back old Chloe and Hannah until she had +witnessed his humiliation. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhat impatient of the long delay, Hugh sat in the dingy +kitchen, when 'Lina appeared, and with an air of injured dignity, +bade him follow her. +</p> + +<p> +"What's up now that Ad looks so solemn like?" was Hugh's +mental comment as he took his way to the room where, in a +half-reclining position sat Adah, her large, bright eyes fixed +eagerly upon the door through which he entered, and a bright +flush upon her cheek called up by the suspicions to which she +had been subjected. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps they might be true. Nobody knew but Hugh, and +she waited for him so anxiously, starting when she heard a +manly step and knew that he was coming. For an instant she +scanned his face curiously to assure herself that it was he, then +with an imploring cry as if for him to save her from some +dreaded evil, she stretched her little hands toward him and +sobbed: "Mr. Worthington, was it true? Was it as his letter +said?" and shedding back from her white face the wealth of +flowing hair, Adah waited for the answer, which did not come +at once. In utter amazement Hugh gazed upon the stranger, +and then exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Adah, Adah Hastings, why are you here?" +</p> + +<p> +In the tone of his voice surprise and pity were mingled with +disapprobation, the latter of which Adah detected at once, +and as if it had crushed out the last lingering hope, she covered +her face with her hands and sobbed piteously. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you turn against me, or I'll surely die, and I've come +so far to find you." +</p> + +<p> +By this time Hugh was himself again. His rapid, quick-seeing +mind had come to a decision, and turning to his mother +and sister, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Leave us alone for a time." +</p> + +<p> +Rather reluctantly Mrs. Worthington and her daughter left +the room. Deliberately turning the key in the lock, Hugh advanced +to her side, groaning as his eye fell upon the child, +which had fallen asleep again. +</p> + +<p> +"I hoped this might have been spared her," he thought, as, +kneeling by the couch, he said, kindly: "Adah, I am more +pained to see you here than I can express. Why did you come, +and where is—" +</p> + +<p> +The name was lost to 'Lina, and muttering to herself: "It +does not sound much like a man and wife," she rather unwillingly +quitted her position, and Hugh was really alone with +Adah. +</p> + +<p> +Never was Hugh in so awkward a position before, or so uncertain +how to act. The sight of that sobbing, trembling +wretched creature, whose heart he had helped to crush, had +perfectly unmanned him, making him almost as much a woman +as herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what made you? Why didn't you save me?" she said, +looking up to him with an expression of reproach. +</p> + +<p> +He had no excuse. He knew how innocent she was, and he +held her in his arms as he would once have held the Golden +Haired, had she come to him with a tale of woe. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me see that letter again," he said. +</p> + +<p> +She gave it to him; and he read once more the cruel lines, +in which there was still much of love for the poor thing, to +whom they were addressed. +</p> + +<p> +"You will surely find friends who will care for you, until +the time when I may come to really make you mine." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh repeated these words twice, aloud, his heart throbbing +with the noble resolve, that the confidence she had placed in +him by coming there, should not be abused, for he would be +true to the trust, and care for the poor, little, half-crazed Adah, +moaning so piteously beside him, and as he read the last line, +saying eagerly: +</p> + +<p> +"He speaks of coming back. Do you think he ever will? +or could I find him if I should try? I thought of starting once, +but it was so far; and there was Willie. Oh, if he could see +Willie! Mr. Worthington, do you believe he loves me one bit?" +</p> + +<p> +Hugh said at last, that the letter contained many assurances +of affection. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems family pride has something to do with it. I wonder +where his people live, or who they are? Did he never tell +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," and Adah shook her head mournfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you go to them?" Hugh asked quickly; and Adah +answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Sometimes I've thought I would. I'd brave his proud mother—I'd +lay Willie in her lap. I'd tell her whose he was, and then +I'd go away and die." Then, after a pause, she continued: +"Once, Mr. Worthington, I went down to the river, and said +I'd end my wretched life, but God held me back. He cooled +my scorching head—He eased the pain, and on the very spot +where I meant to jump, I kneeled down and said: 'Our Father.' +No other words would come, only these: 'Lead us not into temptation.' +Wasn't it kind in God to save me?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a radiant expression in the sweet face as Adah said +this, but it quickly passed away and was succeeded by one of +deep concern when Hugh abruptly said: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you believe in God?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mr. Worthington. Don't you? You do, you must, you +will," and Adah shrank away from him as from a monster. +</p> + +<p> +The action reminded him of the Golden Haired, when on the +deck of the<i>St. Helena</i>he had asked her a similar question, and +anxious further to probe the opinion of the girl beside him, +he continued: +</p> + +<p> +"If, as you think, there is a God who knew and saw when +you were about to drown yourself, why didn't He prevent the +cruel wrong to you? Why did He suffer it?" +</p> + +<p> +"What He does we know not now, but we shall know hereafter," +Adah said, reverently, adding: "If George had feared +God, he would not have left me so; but he didn't, and perhaps +he says there is no God—but you don't, Mr. Worthington. Your +face don't look like it. Tell me you believe," and in her eagerness +Adah grasped his arm beseechingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Adah, I believe," Hugh answered, half jestingly, "but +it's such as you that make me believe, and as persons of your +creed think everything is ordered for good, so possibly you were +permitted to suffer that you might come here and benefit me. +I think I must keep you, Adah, at least, until he is found." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," and the tears flowed at once, "I cannot be a burden +to you. I have no claim." +</p> + +<p> +After a moment she grew calm again, and continued: +</p> + +<p> +"You whispered, you know, that if I was ever in trouble, +come to you, and that's why I remembered you so well, maybe. +I wrote down your name, and where you lived, though why I +did not know, and I forgot where I put it, but as if God really +were helping me I found it in my old portfolio, and something +bade me come, for you would know if it was true, and your +words had a meaning of which I did not dream when I was so +happy. George left me money, and sent more, but it's most +gone now. I can take care of myself." +</p> + +<p> +"What can you do?" Hugh asked, and Adah replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, but God will find me something. I never +worked much, but I can learn, and I can already sew neatly, too; +besides that, a few days before I decided to come here, I advertised +in the<i>Herald</i>for some place as governess or ladies' waiting +maid. Perhaps I'll hear from that." +</p> + +<p> +"It's hardly possible. Such advertisements are thick as blackberries," +Hugh said, and then in a few brief words, he marked +out Adah's future course. +</p> + +<p> +George Hastings might or might not return to claim her, and +whether he did or didn't, she must live meantime, and where so +well as at Spring Bank, or who, next to Mr. Hastings, was more +strongly bound to care for her than himself?" +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure, he did not like women much," he said; "their +artificial fooleries disgusted him. There wasn't one woman in +ten thousand that was what she seemed to be. But even men +are not all alike," he continued, with something like a sneer, +for when Hugh got upon his favorite hobby, "women and their +weaknesses," he generally grew bitter and sarcastic. "Now, +there's the one of whom you are continually thinking. I dare +say you have contrasted him with me and thought how much +more elegant he was in his appearance. Isn't it so?" and Hugh +glanced at Adah, who, in a grieved tone, replied: +</p> + +<p> +"No, Mr. Worthington, I have not compared you with him—I +have only thought how good you were." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh knew Adah was sincere, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"I told you I did not like women much, and I don't but I'm +going to take care of you until that scoundrel turns up; then, +if you say so, I'll surrender you to his care, or better yet, I'll +shoot him and keep you to myself. Not as a sweetheart, or anything +of that kind," he hastened to add, as he saw the flush on +Adah's cheek. "Hugh Worthington has nothing to do with that +species of the animal kingdom, but as my Sister Adah!" and +as Hugh repeated that name, there arose in his great heart an +indefinable wish that the gentle girl beside him had been his +sister instead of the high-tempered Adaline, who never tried to +conciliate or understand him, and whom, try as he might, Hugh +could not love as brothers should love sisters. +</p> + +<p> +He knew how impatiently she was waiting now to know the +result of that interview, and just how much opposition he should +meet when he announced his intention of keeping Adah. Hugh +was master of Spring Bank, but though its rightful owner, +Hugh was far from being rich, and many were the shifts and +self-denials he was obliged to make to meet the increased expense +entailed upon him by his mother and sister. John Stanley +had been accounted very wealthy, and Hugh, who had often +seen him counting out his gold, was not a little surprised when, +after his death, no ready money could be found, or any account +of the same—nothing but the Spring Bank property, consisting +of sundry acres of nearly worn-out land, the old, dilapidated +house, and a dozen or more negroes. This to a certain extent +was the secret of his patched boots, his threadbare coat and +coarse pants, with which 'Lina so often taunted him, saying he +wore them just to be stingy and mortify her, she knew he did, +when in fact necessity rather than choice was the cause of his +shabby appearance. He had never told her so, however, never +said that the unfashionable coat so offensive to her fastidious +vision was worn that she might be the better clothed and fed. +But Hugh was capable of great self-sacrifices. He could manage +somehow, and Adah should stay. He would say that she was +a friend whom he had known in New York, that her husband +had deserted her, and in her distress she had come to him for +aid. +</p> + +<p> +All this he explained to Adah, who assented tacitly, thinking +within herself that she should not long remain at Spring Bank, +a dependent upon one on whom she had no claim. She was too +weak now, however, to oppose him, and merely nodding to his +suggestions laid her head upon the arm of the lounge with a +low cry that she was sick and warm. Stepping to the door Hugh +turned the key, and summoning the group waiting anxiously in +the adjoining room, bade them come at once, as Mrs. Hastings +appeared to be fainting. Great emphasis he laid upon the Mrs. +and catching it up at once 'Lina repeated, "Mrs. Hastings! So +am I just as much." +</p> + +<p> +"Ad," and the eyes which shone so softly on poor Adah flashed +with gleams of fire as Hugh said to his sister, "not another +word against that girl if you wish to remain here longer. She +has been unfortunate." +</p> + +<p> +"I guessed as much," sneeringly interrupted 'Lina. +</p> + +<p> +"Silence!" and Hugh's foot came down as it sometimes did +when chiding a refractory negro. "She is as true, yes, truer, +than you. He who should have protected her has basely deserted +her. There is a reason which I do not care to explain, +why I should care for her and I shall do it. See that a fire is +kindled in the west chamber, and go up yourself when it is +made and see that all is comfortable. Do you understand?" and +he gazed sternly at 'Lina, who was too much astonished to +answer, even if she had been so disposed. +</p> + +<p> +Quick as thought, 'Lina darted up a back stairway, and when, +half an hour later, Hugh, hearing mysterious sounds above, and +suspecting something wrong, went up to reconnoiter, he found +Hannah industriously pulling the tacks from the carpet, preparatory +to taking it up. In thunder tones, he demanded what +she was doing, and with a start, which made her drop tacks, +hammer, saucer and all, Hannah replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Lor', Mas'r Hugh, how you skeered me! Miss 'Lina done +order me to take up de carpet, 'case it's ole miss's, and she won't +have no low-lived truck tramplin' over it. That's what Miss +'Lina say," and Hannah tossed her head quite conceitedly. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss 'Lina be hanged," was Hugh's savage response; "and +you, woman, do you hear?—drive those nails back faster than +you took them out." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, mas'r," and Hannah hastened down. Whispering to her +mistress, Hannah told what Hugh had said, and instantly there +came over Mrs. Worthington's face a look of concern, as if she, +too, objected to having the stranger occupy a room wherein an +ex-governor had slept, but Hugh's wish was law to her, and she +answered that all was ready. A moment after, Hugh appeared, +and taking Adah in his arms, carried her to the upper chamber, +where the fire was burning brightly, casting cheerful shadows +upon the wall, and making Adah smile gratefully, as she looked +up in his face, and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, Mr. Worthington! Adah will pray for you +to-night, when she is alone. It's all that she can do." +</p> + +<p> +They laid her upon the bed, Hugh himself arranging her +pillows, which no one else appeared inclined to touch. +</p> + +<p> +Family opinion was against her, innocent and beautiful as +she looked lying there—so helpless, so still, with her long-fringed +lashes shading her colorless cheek, and her little hands +folded upon her bosom, as if already she were breathing the +promised prayer for Hugh. Only in Mrs. Worthington's heart +was there a chord of sympathy. She couldn't help feeling for +the desolate stranger; and when, at her own request, Hannah +placed Willie in her lap, ere laying him by his mother, she +gave him an involuntary hug, and touched her lips to his fat, +round cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"He looks as you did, Hugh, when you were a baby like +him," she said, while Chloe rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"De very spawn of Mas'r Hugh, now. I 'tected it de fust +minit. Can't cheat dis chile," and, with a chuckle, which she +meant to be very expressive, the fat old woman waddled from +the room. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh and his mother were alone, and turning to her son, Mrs. +Worthington said, gently: +</p> + +<p> +"This is sad business, Hugh; worse than you imagine. Do +you know how folks will talk?" +</p> + +<p> +"Let them talk," Hugh growled. "It cannot be much worse +than it is now. Nobody cares for Hugh Worthington; and why +should they, when his own mother and sister are against him, +in actions if not in words?—one sighing when his name is mentioned, +as if he really were the most provoking son that ever +was born, and the other openly berating him as a monster, a +clown, a savage, a scarecrow, and all that. I tell you, mother, +there is but little to encourage me in the kind of life I'm leading. +Neither you nor Ad have tried to make anything of me." +</p> + +<p> +Choking with tears, Mrs. Worthington said: +</p> + +<p> +"You wrong me, Hugh; I do try to make something of you. +You are a dear child to me, dearer than the other, but I'm a +weak woman, and 'Lina sways me at will." +</p> + +<p> +A kind word unmanned Hugh at once, and kneeling by his +mother, he put his arms around her, and asked again her care +for Adah. +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh," and Mrs. Worthington looked him steadily in the +face, "is Adah your wife, or Willie your child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Great guns, mother!" and Hugh started to his feet as quick +as if a bomb had exploded at his side. "No! Are you sorry, +mother, to find me better than you imagined it possible for a +bad boy like me to be?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Hugh, not sorry. I was only thinking that I've sometimes +fancied that, as a married man, you might be happier, +even if you did lose Spring Bank; and when this woman came +so strangely, and you seemed so interested, I didn't know, I +rather thought—" +</p> + +<p> +"I know," and Hugh interrupted her. "You thought, maybe, +I raised Ned when I was in New York; and, as a proof of said +resurrection, Mrs. Ned and Ned, Junior, had come with their +baggage." +</p> + +<p> +If the hair was golden instead of brown, and the eyes a different +shade, he shouldn't "make so tremendous a fuss," he +thought; and, with a sigh to the memory of the lost Golden +Hair, he turned abruptly to his mother, and as if she had all the +while been cognizant of his thoughts, said: +</p> + +<p> +"But that's nothing to do with the case in question. Will you +be kind to Adah Hastings, for my sake? And when Ad rides +her highest horse, as she is sure to do, will you smooth her +down? Tell her Adah has as good a right here as she, if I choose +to keep her." +</p> + +<p> +"I never meddle with your affairs," and there was a tone +of whining complaint in Mrs. Worthington's voice; "I never pry +and you never tell, so I don't know how much you are worth, but +I can judge somewhat, and I don't think you are able." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington was much more easily won over to Hugh's +opinion than 'Lina. They'd be a county talk, she said; nobody +would come near them; hadn't Hugh enough on his hands +already without taking more? +</p> + +<p> +"If my considerate sister really thinks so, hadn't she better +try and help herself a little?" retorted Hugh in a blaze of +anger. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina began to cry, and Hugh, repenting of his harsh speech +as soon as it was uttered, but far too proud to take it back, +strode up and down the room, chafing like a young lion. +</p> + +<p> +"Come children, it's after midnight, let us adjourn until to-morrow," +Mrs. Worthington said, by way of ending the painful +interview, at the same time handing a candle to Hugh, who +took it silently and withdrew, banging the door behind him with +a force which made 'Lina start and burst into a fresh flood of +tears. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm a brute, a savage, and want to kick myself," was Hugh's +not very self-complimentary soliloquy, as he went up the stairs. +"What did I want to twit Ad for? Confound my badness!" +and having by this time reached his own door, Hugh sat down +to think. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0003" id="h2HCH0003"></a> + CHAPTER III +</h2> +<h3> + HUGH'S SOLILOQUY +</h3> +<p> +"One, two three—yes, as good as four women and a child," he +began, "to say nothing of the negroes, and that is not the worst +of it; the hardest of all is the having people call me stingy, and +the knowing that this opinion of me is encouraged and kept +alive by the remarks and insinuations of my own sister," and +in the red gleam of the firelight the bearded chin quivered for +a moment as Hugh thought how unjust 'Lina was to him, and +how hard was the lot imposed upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Then shifting the position of his feet, which had hitherto +rested upon the hearth, to a more comfortable and suggestive +one upon the mantel, Hugh tried to find a spot in which he +could economize. +</p> + +<p> +"I needn't have a fire in my room nights," he said, as a coal +fell into the pan and thus reminded him of its existence, "and +I won't, either. It's nonsense for a great hot-blooded clown, +like me to be babied with a fire. I've no tags to braid, no false +switches to comb out and hide, no paint to wash off, only a +few buttons to undo, a shake or so, and I'm all right. So there's +one thing, the fire—quite an item, too, at the rate coal is selling. +Then there's coffee. I can do without that, I suppose, though +it will be perfect torment to smell it, and Hannah makes such +splendid coffee, too; but will is everything. Fire, coffee—I'm +getting on famously. What else?" +</p> + +<p> +"Tobacco," something whispered, but Hugh answered +promptly: "No, sir, I shan't! I'll sell my shirts, the new ones +Aunt Eunice made, before I'll give up my best friend. It's all +the comfort I have when I get a fit of the blues. Oh, you needn't +try to come it!" and Hugh shook his head defiantly at his unseen +interlocutor, urging that 'twas a filthy practice at best, +and productive of no good. +</p> + +<p> +Horses was suggested again. "You have other horses than +Bet," and Hugh was conscious of a pang which wrung from +him a groan, for his horses were his idols. The best-trained in +the country, they occupied a large share of his affections, making +up to him for the friendship he rarely sought in others, and +parting with them would be like severing a right hand. It was +too terrible to think about, and Hugh dismissed it as an alternative +which might have to be considered another time. Then +hope made her voice heard above the little blue imps tormenting +him so sadly. +</p> + +<p> +He should get along somehow. Something would turn up. Ad +might marry and go away. What made her so different from +his mother? He had loved her, and he thought of her now as she +used to look when in her dainty white frocks, with the strings +of coral he had bought with nuts picked on the New England +hills. +</p> + +<p> +He used to kiss those chubby arms—kiss the rosy cheeks, and +the soft brown hair. But that hair had changed sadly since the +days when its owner had first lisped his name, and called him +"Ugh," for the bands and braids coiled around 'Lina's haughty +head were black as midnight. Not less changed than 'Lina's +tresses was 'Lina herself, and Hugh, strong man that he was, +had often felt like crying for the little baby sister, so lost and +dead to him in her young womanhood. What had changed Ad +so? +</p> + +<p> +There was many a tender spot in Hugh Worthington's heart, +and shadow after shadow flitted across his face as he thought +how cheerless was his life, and how little there was in his +surroundings to make him happy. There was nothing he would +not do for people if approached in the right way, but nobody +cared for him, unless it were his mother and Aunt Eunice. They +seemed to like him, and he reckoned they did, but for the rest, +who was there that ever thought of doing him a kindness? Poor +Hugh! It was a dreary picture he drew as he sat alone that +night, brooding over his troubles, and listening to the moan of +the wintry wind—the only sound he heard, except the rattling +of the shutters and the creaking of the timbers, as the old house +rocked in the December gale. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly there crept into his mind Adah's words, "I shall +pray for you to-night." He never prayed, and the Bible given +by Golden Hair had not been opened this many a day. Since +his dark sin toward Adah he had felt unworthy to touch it, but +now that he was doing what he could to atone, he surely might +look at it, and unlocking the trunk where it was hidden, he +took it from its concealment and opened it reverently, half +wondering what he should read first, and if it would have any +reference to his present position. +</p> + +<p> +"Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these ye did it unto +Me." +</p> + +<p> +That was what Hugh read in the dim twilight, that the passage +on which the lock of hair lay, and the Bible dropped from +his hands as he whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Golden Hair, are you here? Did you point that out to me? +Does it mean Adah? Is the God you loved on earth pleased +that I should care for her?" +</p> + +<p> +To these queries, there came no answer, save the mournful +wailing of the night wind roaring down the chimney and past +the sleet-covered window, but Hugh was a happier man for reading +that, and had there before existed a doubt as to his duty +toward Adah, this would have swept it away. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0004" id="h2HCH0004"></a> + CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<h3> + TERRACE HILL +</h3> +<p> +The storm which visited Kentucky so wrathfully, and was +far milder among the New England hills, and in the vicinity of +Snowdon, whither our story now tends, was scarcely noticed, +save as an ordinary winter's storm. As yet it had been comparatively +warmer in New England than in Kentucky; and Miss +Anna Richards, confirmed invalid though she was, had decided +that inasmuch as Terrace Hill mansion now boasted a furnace +in the cellar, it would hardly be necessary to take her usual +trip to the South, so comfortable was she at home, in her accustomed +chair, with her pretty crimson shawl wrapped gracefully +around her. Besides that, they were expecting her Brother +John from Paris, where he had been for the last eighteen months, +pursuing his medical profession, and she must be there to welcome +him. +</p> + +<p> +Anna was proud of her young, handsome brother, as were +the entire family, for on him and his success in life all their +future hopes were pending. Aside from being proud, Anna was +also very fond of John, because as all were expected to yield to +her wishes, she had never been crossed by him, and because he +was nearer to her own age, and had evidently preferred her to +either of his more stately sisters, Miss Asenath and Miss Eudora, +whose birthdays were very far distant from his. +</p> + +<p> +John had never been very happy at home—never liked Snowdon +much, and hence the efforts they were putting forth to +make it attractive to him after his long absence. He could +not help but like home now, the ladies said to each other, as, a +few days before his arrival, they rode from the village, where +they had been shopping, up the winding terraced hill, admiring +the huge stone building embosomed in evergreens, and standing +out so distinctly against the wintry sky. And indeed Terrace +Hill mansion was a very handsome place, exciting the envy and +admiration of the villagers, who, while commenting upon its +beauty and its well-kept grounds, could yet remember a time +when it had looked better even than it did now—when the house +was oftener full of city company, of sportsmen who came up to +hunt, and fish, and drink, as it was sometimes hinted by the +servants, of whom there was then a greater number than at +present—when high-born ladies rode up and down in carriages, +or dashed on horseback through the park and off into the leafy +woods—when sounds of festivity were heard in the halls from +year's end to year's end, and the lights in the parlors were rarely +extinguished, or the fires on the hearth put out. All this was +during the lifetime of its former owner. With his death there +had come a change to the inhabitants of Terrace Hill. In short +it was whispered rather loudly now that the ladies of Terrace +Hill were restricted in their means, that it was harder to collect +a bill from them than it used to be, that there was less display +of dress and style, fewer fires, and lights, and servants, and +withdrawal from society, and an apparent desire to be left to +themselves. +</p> + +<p> +This was what the village people whispered, and none knew +the truth of the whisperings better than the ladies in question. +They knew they were growing poorer with each succeeding year, +but it was not the less mortifying to be familiarly accosted by +Mrs. Deacon Briggs, or invited to a sociable by Mrs. Roe. +</p> + +<p> +How Miss Asenath and Miss Eudora writhed under the infliction, +and how hard they tried to appear composed and ladylike +just as they would deem it incumbent upon them to appear, had +they been on their way to the gallows. How glad, too, they +were when their aristocratic doors closed upon the little, talkative +Mrs. Roe, and what a good time they had wondering how +Mrs. Johnson, who really was as refined and cultivated as themselves, +could associate with such folks to the extent she did. +She was always present at the Snowdon sewing circles, they +heard, and frequently at its tea-drinkings, while never was +there a sickbed but she was sure to find it, particularly if the +sick one were poor and destitute. This was very commendable +and praiseworthy, they admitted, but they did not see how she +could endure it. Once Miss Asenath had ventured to ask her, +and she had answered that all her best, most useful lessons, were +learned in just such places—that she was better for these visits, +and found her purest enjoyments in them. To Miss Asenath +and Miss Eudora, this was inexplicable, but Anna, disciplined +by years of ill health, had a slight perception of higher, purer +motives than any which actuated the family at Terrace Hill. +On the occasion of little Mrs. Roe's call it was Anna who +apologized for her presumption, saying that Mrs. Roe really had +the kindest of hearts; besides, it was quite natural for the villagers +not to stand quite so much in awe of them now that their +fortune was declining, and as they could not make circumstances +conform to them, they must conform to circumstances. +Neither Asenath nor Eudora, nor the lady mother liked this +kind of conformation, but Anna was generally right, and they +did not annihilate Mrs. Roe with a contemptuous frown as they +had fully intended doing. Mrs. Johnson and her daughter Alice +had been present, they heard, the latter actually joining in some +of the plays, and the new clergyman, Mr. Howard, had suffered +himself to be caught by Miss Alice, who disfigured her luxuriant +curls with a bandage, and played at blindman's buff. This +proved conclusively to the elder ladies of Terrace Hill that +ministers were no better than other people, and they congratulated +themselves afresh upon their escape from having one of +the brotherhood in thir family. +</p> + +<p> +In this escape Anna was particularly interested, as it had +helped to make her the delicate creature she was, for since the +morning when she had knelt at her proud father's feet, and +begged him to revoke his cruel decision, and say she might be +the bride of a poor missionary, Anna had greatly changed, and +the father, ere he died, had questioned the propriety of separating +the hearts which clung so together. But the young missionary +had married another, and neither the parents nor the +sisters ever forgot the look of anguish which stole into Anna's +face, when she heard the fatal news. She had thought herself +prepared, but the news was just as crushing when it came, accompanied, +though it was with a few last lines from him. Anna +kept this letter yet, wondering if the missionary remembered +her yet, and if they would ever meet again. This was the secret +of the missionary papers scattered so profusely through the +rooms at Terrace Hill. Anna was interested in everything pertaining +to the work, though, it must be confessed, that her mind +wandered oftenest to the banks of the Bosphorus, the City of +Mosques and Minarets, where he was laboring. Neither the +mother, nor Asenath, nor Eudora ever spoke to her of him, and +so his name was never heard at Terrace Hill, unless John mentioned +it, as he sometimes did, drawing comical pictures of what +Anna would have been by this time had she married the missionary. +</p> + +<p> +Anna only laughed at her wild brother's comments, telling +him once to beware, lest he, too, follow her example, and was +guilty of loving some one far beneath him. John Richards had +spurned the idea. The wife who bore his name should be every +way worthy of a Richards. This was John's theory, nursed and +encouraged by mother and sisters, the former charging him to be +sure and keep his heart from all save the right one. Had he +done so? +</p> + +<p> +A peep at the family as on the day of his expected arrival +from Paris they sat waiting for him will enlighten us somewhat. +Taken as a whole, it was a very pleasant family group, which sat +there waiting for the foreign lion, waiting for the whistle of +the engine which was to herald his approach. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if he has changed," said the mother, glancing at +the opposite mirror and arranging the puffs of glossy false hair +which shaded her aristocratic forehead. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course he has changed somewhat," returned Miss Asenath, +rubbing together her white, bony hands, on one of which a +costly diamond was flashing. "Nearly two years of Paris society +must have imparted to him that<i>air distingué</i>so desirable in a +young man who has traveled." +</p> + +<p> +"He'll hardly fail of making a good match now," Miss Eudora +remarked, caressing the pet spaniel which had climbed into +her lap. "I think we must manage to visit Saratoga or some of +those places next summer. Mr. Gardner found his wife at Newport, +and they say she's worth half a million." +</p> + +<p> +"But horridly ugly," and Anna looked up from the reverie +in which she had been indulging. "Lottie says she has tow +hair and a face like a fish. John would never be happy with +such a wife." +</p> + +<p> +"Possibly you think he had better have married that sewing +girl about whom he wrote us just before going to Europe," Miss +Eudora said spitefully, pinching the long silken ears of her pet +until the animal yelled with pain. +</p> + +<p> +There was a faint sigh from the direction of Anna's chair, +and all knew she was thinking of the missionary. The mother +continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I trust he is over that fancy, and ready to thank me for the +strong letter I wrote him." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but the girl," and Anna leaned her white cheek in her +whiter hand. "None of us know the harm his leaving her may +have done. Don't you remember he wrote how much she loved +him—how gentle and confiding her nature was, and how to +leave her then might prove her ruin?" +</p> + +<p> +"Our little Anna is growing very eloquent upon the subject +of sewing girls," Miss Asenath said, rather scornfully, and +Anna rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sure she was a sewing girl. He spoke of her as a +schoolgirl." +</p> + +<p> +"But it is most likely he did that to mislead us," said the +mother. "The only boarding school he knows anything about is +the one where Lottie was. If he were not her uncle by marriage +I should not object to Lottie as a daughter," was the +next remark, whereupon there ensued a conversation touching +the merits and demerits of a certain Lottie Gardner, whose +father had taken for a second wife Miss Laura Richards. +</p> + +<p> +This Laura had died within a year of her marriage, but Lottie +had claimed relationship to the family just the same, grandmaing +Mrs. Richards and aunty-ing the sisters. John, however, +was never called uncle, except in fun. He was too near her +age, the young lady frequently declaring that she had half a +mind to throw aside all family ties and lay siege to the handsome +young man, who really was very popular with the fair sex. +During this discussion of Lottie, Anna had sat listlessly looking +up and down the columns of an old<i>Herald</i>, which Dick, Eudora's +pet dog, had ferreted out from the table and deposited at +her feet. She evidently was not thinking of Lottie, nor yet +of the advertisements, until one struck her notice as being very +singular. Holding it a little more to the light she said: "Possibly +this is the very person I want—only the child might be an +objection. Just listen," and Anna read as follows: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p class="noindent"> +"<span class="smcaps">Wanted</span>—By an unfortunate young married woman, with a +child a few months old, a situation in a private family either as +governess, seamstress, or lady's maid. Country preferred. Address—" +</p></div> +<p> +Anna was about to say whom when a violent ringing of the +bell announced an arrival, and the next moment a tall young +man, exceedingly Frenchified in his appearance, entered the +room, and was soon in the arms of his mother. +</p> + +<p> +John, hastening to where Anna sat, wound his arms around +her light figure, and kissed her white lips and looked into her +face with an expression, which told that, however indifferent he +might be to others, he was not so to Anna. +</p> + +<p> +"You have not changed for the worse," he said. "You are +scarcely thinner than when I went away." +</p> + +<p> +"And you are vastly improved," was Anna's answer. +</p> + +<p> +His mother continued: "I thought, perhaps, you were offended +at my plain letter concerning that girl, and resented it by not +coming, but of course you are glad now, and see that mother +was right. What could you have done with a wife in Paris?" +</p> + +<p> +"I should not have gone," John answered, moodily, a shadow +stealing over his face. +</p> + +<p> +It was not good taste for Mrs. Richards thus early to introduce +a topic on which John was really so sore, and for a moment +an awkward silence ensued, broken at last by the mother again, +who, feeling that all was not right, and anxious to know if there +was yet aught to fear from a poor, unknown daughter-in-law, +asked, hesitatingly: +</p> + +<p> +"Have you seen her since your return?" +</p> + +<p> +"She's dead," was the laconic reply, and then, as if anxious +to change the conversation, the young doctor turned to Anna +and said: "Guess who was my fellow traveler from Liverpool?" +</p> + +<p> +Anna never could guess anything, and after a little her brother +said: +</p> + +<p> +"The Rev. Charles Millbrook, missionary to Turkey, returning +for his health." +</p> + +<p> +For an instant Anna trembled as if she saw opening before +her the grave which for fourteen years had held her buried +heart. Charlie was breathing again the air of the same hemisphere +with herself. She might, perhaps, see him once more, +and Hattie, was she with him, or was there another grave made +with the Moslem dead by little Anna's aide? She would not +ask, for she felt the cold, critical eyes bent upon her from across +the hearth, and a few commonplace inquiries was all she ventured +upon. Had Mr. Millbrook greatly changed since he went +away? Did he look very sick? And how had her brother liked +him? +</p> + +<p> +"I scarcely spoke to him," was John's reply. "I confess to +a most lamentable ignorance touching the Rev. Mr. Millbrook +and his family. He wore crape on his hat, I remember, but +there was a lady with him to whom he was quite attentive, and +who, I think, was called by his name." +</p> + +<p> +"Tall, with black eyes, like Lottie's?" Anna meekly asked, +and John replied: "Something after the Lottie order, though +more like yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"It's strange I never saw a notice of his expected return," +was Anna's next remark. "Perhaps it was in the last<i>Missionary +Herald</i>. You have not found it yet, have you, mother?" +</p> + +<p> +The ringing of the supper bell prevented Mrs. Richards from +answering. How gracefully he did the honors, and how proud +all were of him, as he repeated little incidents of Parisian life, +speaking of the emperor and Eugenie as if they had been everyday +sights to him. In figure and form the fair empress reminded +him of Anna, he said, except that Anna was the prettier of the +two—a compliment which Anna acknowledged with a blush and +a trembling of her long eyelashes. It was a very pleasant family +reunion, for John did his best to be agreeable. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, John, please be careful. There's an advertisement I +want to save," Anna exclaimed, as she saw her brother tearing +a strip from the<i>Herald</i>with which to light his cigar, but as she +spoke, the flame curled around the narrow strip, and Dr. Richards +had lighted his cigar with the name and address appended +to the advertisement which had so interested Anna. +</p> + +<p> +How disturbed she was when she found that nought was left +save the simple wants of the young girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Let's see," and taking the mutilated sheet, Dr. Richards read +the "Wanted, by a young unfortunate married woman." +</p> + +<p> +"That unfortunate may mean a great deal more than you +imagine," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but she distinctly says married. Don't you see, and I +had really some idea of writing to her." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry I was so careless, but there are a thousand unfortunate +women who would gladly be your maid, little sister. +I'll send you out a score, if you say so," and John laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Has anything of importance occurred in this slow old +town?" he inquired, after Anna had become reconciled to her +loss. "Are the people as odd as usual?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, more so," Miss Eudora thought, "and more presuming," +whereupon she rehearsed the annoyances to which they +had been subjected from their changed circumstances, dwelling +at length upon Mrs. Roe's tea drinking, and the insult offered by +inviting them, when she knew there would be no one present +with whom they associated. +</p> + +<p> +"You forget Mrs. Johnson," interposed Anna. "We would +be glad to know her better than we do, she is so refined and cultivated +in all her tastes, while Alice is the sweetest girl I ever +knew. By the way, brother, they have come here since you left, +consequently you have a rare pleasure in store, the forming their +acquaintance." +</p> + +<p> +"Whose, the old or the young lady's?" John asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Both," was Anna's reply. "The mother is very youthful in +her appearance. Why, she scarcely looks older than I, and I, +you know, am thirty-two." +</p> + +<p> +As if fearful lest her own age should come next under consideration, +Miss Eudora hastened to say: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mrs. Johnson does look very young, and Alice seems +like a child. Such beautiful hair as she has. It used to be a +bright yellow, or golden, but now it has a darker, richer shade, +while her eyes are the softest, handsomest blue." +</p> + +<p> +Alice Johnson was evidently a favorite, and this stamped her +somebody, so John began to ask who the Johnsons were. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Richards seemed disposed to answer, which she did as +follows: +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Johnson used to live in Boston, and her husband was +grandson of old Governor Johnson." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes," and John began to laugh. "I see now what gives +Miss Alice's hair that peculiar shade, and her eyes that heavenly +blue; but go on, mother, and give her figure as soon as may be." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" asked Anna. "I should suppose you'd +care more for her face than her form." +</p> + +<p> +John smiled mischievously, while his mother continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I fancy that Mrs. Johnson's family met with a reverse of +fortune before her marriage. I do not see her as often as I +would like to, for I am greatly pleased with her, although she +has some habits of which I cannot approve. Why, I hear that +Alice had a party the other day consisting-wholly of ragged +urchins." +</p> + +<p> +"They were her Sabbath school scholars," interposed Anna. +</p> + +<p> +"I vote that Anna goes on with Alice's history. She gives +it best," said John, and so Anna continued: +</p> + +<p> +"There is but little more to tell. Mrs. Johnson and her +daughter are both nice ladies, and I am sure you will like them—everybody +does; and rumor has already given Alice to our +young clergyman, Mr. Howard." +</p> + +<p> +"And she is worth fifty thousand dollars, too," rejoined Asenath. +</p> + +<p> +"I have her figure at last," said John, winking slyly at Anna. +</p> + +<p> +And, indeed, the fifty thousand dollars did seem to make an +impression on the young man, who grew interested at once, making +numerous inquiries, asking where he would be most likely +to see her. +</p> + +<p> +"At church," was Anna's reply. "She is always there, and +their pew joins ours." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Richards was exceedingly vain, and his vanity manifested +itself from the tie of his neckerchief down to the polish of his +boots. Once, had Hugh Worthington known him intimately, +he would have admitted that there was at least one man whose +toilet occupied quite as much time as Adaline's. In Paris the +vain doctor had indulged in the luxury of a valet, carefully +keeping it a secret from his mother and sisters, who were often +compelled to deny themselves that the money he asked for so +often might be forthcoming. But that piece of extravagance +was over now; he dared not bring his valet home, though he +sadly wished him there as he meditated upon the appearance he +would make in church next Sabbath. He was glad there was +something new and interesting in Snowdon in the shape of a +pretty girl, for he did not care to return at once to New York, +where he had intended practicing his profession. There were too +many sad memories clustering about that city to make it altogether +desirable, but Dr. Richards was not yet a hardened +wretch, and thoughts of another than Alice Johnson, with her +glorious hair and still more glorious figure, crowded upon his +mind as on that first evening of his return, he sat answering +questions and asking others of his own. +</p> + +<p> +It was late ere the family group broke up, and the storm, +beating so furiously upon Spring Bank, was just making its +voice heard around Terrace Hill mansion, when the doctor took +the lamp the servant brought, and bidding his mother and sisters +good-night, ascended the stairs whither Anna had gone before +him. She was not, however, in bed, and called softly to him: +</p> + +<p> +"John, Brother John, come in a moment, please." +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0005" id="h2HCH0005"></a> + CHAPTER V +</h2> +<h3> + ANNA AND JOHN +</h3> +<p> +He found her in a tasteful gown, its heavy tassels almost +sweeping the floor, while her long, glossy hair, loosened from its +confinement of ribbon and comb, covered her neck and shoulders +as she sat before the fire always kindled in her room. +</p> + +<p> +"How picturesque you look," he said, gayly. +</p> + +<p> +"John," and Anna's voice was soft and pleasing, "was Charlie +greatly changed? Tell me, please." +</p> + +<p> +"I was so young in the days when he came wooing that I +hardly remember how he used to look. I should not have known +him, but my impression is that he looks about as well as men +of forty usually look." +</p> + +<p> +"Not forty, John, only thirty-eight," Anna interposed. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, thirty-eight, then. You remember his age remarkably +well," John said, laughingly, adding: "Did you once love +him very much?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," and Anna's voice faltered a little. +</p> + +<p> +"Why didn't you marry him, then?" +</p> + +<p> +John spoke excitedly, and the flush deepened on his cheek +when Anna answered meekly: +</p> + +<p> +"Why didn't you marry that poor girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why didn't I?" and John started to his feet; then he continued: +"Anna, I tell you there's a heap of wrong for somebody +to answer for, but it is not you, and it is not me—it's—it's +mother!" and John whispered the word, as if fearful lest the +proud, overbearing woman should hear. +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken," Anna replied, "for as far as Charlie +was concerned father had more to do with it than mother. I've +never seen him since. He did marry another, but I've never +quite believed that he forgot me." +</p> + +<p> +Anna was talking now more to herself than to John, and +Charlie, could he have seen her, would have said she was not +far from the narrow way which leadeth unto life. To John +her white face, irradiated with gleams of the soft firelight, was +as the face of an angel, and for a time he kept silence before +her, then suddenly exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Anna, you are good, and so was she, so good, so pure, so +artless, and that made it hard to leave her, to give her up. Anna, +do you know what my mother wrote me? Listen, while I tell, +then see if she is not to blame. She cruelly reminded me that by +my father's will all of us, save you, were wholly dependent upon +her, and said the moment I threw myself away upon a low, vulgar, +penniless girl, that moment she'd cast me off, and I might +earn my bread and hers as best I could. She said, too, my sisters, +Anna and all, sanctioned what she wrote, and your opinion had +more weight than all the rest." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, John, mother could not have so misconstrued my words. +Surely my note explained—I sent one in mother's letter." +</p> + +<p> +"It never reached me," John said, while Anna sighed at +this proof of her mother's treachery. +</p> + +<p> +Always conciliatory, however, she soon remarked: +</p> + +<p> +"You are sole male heir to the Richards name. Mother's +heart and pride are bound up in you. A poor, unknown girl +would only add to our expenses, and not help you in the least. +What was her name? I've never heard." +</p> + +<p> +John hesitated, then answered: "I called her Lily, she was +so fair and pure." +</p> + +<p> +Anna was never in the least suspicious, but took all things +for granted, so now she thought within herself, "Lilian, most +likely." Then she said: "You were not engaged to her, were +you?" +</p> + +<p> +John started forward, and gazed into his sister's face with +an expression as if he wished she would question him more +closely, but Anna never dreamed of a secret, and seeing him +hesitate, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"You need not tell me unless you like. I only thought, maybe, +you and Lily were not engaged." +</p> + +<p> +"We were. Anna, I'm a wretch—a miserable wretch, and have +scarcely known an hour's peace since I left her." +</p> + +<p> +"Was there a scene?" Anna asked; and John replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Worse than that. Worse for her. She did not know I was +going till I was gone. I wrote to her from Paris, for I could not +meet her face and tell her how mean I was. I've thought of her +so much, and when I landed in New York I went at once to +find her, or at least to inquire, hoping she'd forgotten me. The +beldame who kept the place was not the same with whom I +had left Lily, but she know about her, and told me she died with +cholera last September. She and—oh, Lily, Lily—" and hiding +his face in Anna's lap, John Richards, whom we have only +seen as a traveled dandy, sobbed like a little child. +</p> + +<p> +"John," she said at last, when the sobbing had ceased, "You +say this Lily was good. Do you mean she was a Christian, like +Charlie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, if there ever was one. Why, she used to make a villain +like me kneel with her every night, and say the Lord's Prayer." +</p> + +<p> +For an instant, a puzzling thought crossed Anna's brain as to +the circumstances which could have brought her brother every +night to Lily's side, but it passed away immediately as she rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"Then she is safe in heaven, and there are no tears there. +We'll try to meet her some day. You could not help her dying. +She might have died had she been your wife, so I'd try to think +it happened for the best, and you'll soon get to believing it did. +That's my experience. You are young yet, and life has much +in store for you. You'll find some one to fill Lily's place; some +one whom we shall all think worthy of you, and<i>we'll</i>be so +happy together." +</p> + +<p> +She did not speak of Alice Johnson, but she thought of her. +John, too, thought of Alice Johnson, wondering how she would +look to him who might have married the daughter of a count. +He had not told Anna of this, and he was about preparing to +leave her, when, changing the conversation, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"Did we ever write to you—no, we didn't—about that mysterious +stranger, that man who stopped for a day or two at the +hotel, nearly two years ago, and made so many inquiries about +us and our place, pretending he wanted to buy it in exchange +for city property, and that some one had told him it was for +sale?" +</p> + +<p> +"What man? Who was he?" John asked; and Anna replied: +</p> + +<p> +"He called himself Bronson." +</p> + +<p> +"Describe him," John said, settling back so that his face was +partly concealed in the shadow. +</p> + +<p> +"Rather tall, firmly-knit figure, with what I imagine people +mean when they say a bullet-head, that is, a round, hard head, +with keen gray eyes, sandy mustache, and a scar or something +on his right temple. Are you cold?" and she turned quickly to +her brother, who had shuddered involuntarily at her description, +for well he knew now who that man was. +</p> + +<p> +But why had he come there? This John did not know, and +as it was necessary to appear natural, he answered to Anna's +inquiry, that he thought he had taken cold, as the cars were +badly warmed. +</p> + +<p> +"But, go on; tell me more of this Bronson. He heard our +house was for sale. How, pray?" +</p> + +<p> +"From some one in New York; and the landlord suggested it +might have been you." +</p> + +<p> +"It's false. I never told him so," and John spoke savagely. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you did know him? What was he? We were half +afraid of him, he behaved so strangely," Anna said, looking +wonderingly at her brother, whose face alternately flushed and +then grew pale. +</p> + +<p> +Simple little Anna, how John blessed her in his heart for +possessing so little insight into the genuine springs of his character, +for when he answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I don't know him—I mean that I never told any +one that Terrace Hill was for sale." +</p> + +<p> +She believed what he said, and very innocently continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Had there been a trifle more of fun in my nature, I should, +have teased Eudora, by telling her he came here to see her or +Asenath. He was very curious for a sight of all of us." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he come here—into the house?" John asked; and Anna +replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes. He was rather coarse-looking, to be sure, with +marks of dissipation, but very gentlemanly and even pleasing +in his address." +</p> + +<p> +Anna went on: "He was exceedingly polite—apologized for +troubling me, and then stated his business. I told him he must +have been misinformed, as we never dreamed of selling. He +took his leave, looking back all the way through the park, and +evidently examining minutely the house and grounds. Mother +was so fidgety after it, declaring him a burglar, and keeping a +watch for several nights after his departure." +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly he was," said John. "A burglar, I dare say, +and you were fortunate, all of you, in not being stolen from your +beds as you lay sleeping." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, we keep our doors locked," was Anna's demure reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Midnight, as I live!" he exclaimed, and was glad of an +excuse for retiring, as he wished now to be alone. +</p> + +<p> +Anna had not asked him half what she had meant to ask concerning +Charlie, but she would not keep him longer, and with +a kiss upon his handsome brow she sent him away, herself holding +the door a little ajar and listening to see what effect the new +carpet would have upon him. It did not have any at first, so +much was he absorbed in that man with the scar upon his +temple. Why had he come there, and why had it not been told +him before? His people were so stupid in their letters, never +telling what was sure to interest him most. But what good could +it have done had he known of the mysterious visit? None whatever—at +least nothing particular had resulted from it, he was +sure. +</p> + +<p> +"It must have been just after one of his sprees, when he is +always more than half befogged," he said to himself. "Possibly +he was passing this way and the insane idea seized him to stop +and pretend to buy Terrace Hill. The rascal!" and having +thus satisfactorily settled it in his mind, the doctor did look +at Anna's carpet, admiring its pattern, and having a kind of +pleasant consciousness that everything was in keeping, from +the handsome drapery which shaded the windows to the marble +hearth on which a fire was blazing. +</p> + +<p> +In Adah Hastings' dream that night there were visions of a +little room far up in a fourth story, where her fair head was +pillowed again upon the manly arm of one who listened while +she chided him gently for his long delay, and then told him +of their Willie boy so much like him, as the young mother +thought. +</p> + +<p> +In Dr. Richards' dreams, when at last he slept, there were +visions of a lonely grave in a secluded part of Greenwood, and +he heard again the startling words: +</p> + +<p> +"Dead, both she and the child." +</p> + +<p> +He did not know there was a child, and he staggered in his +sleep, just as he staggered down the creaking stairs, repeating +to himself: +</p> + +<p> +"Lily's child—Lily's child. May Lily's God forgive me." +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0006" id="h2HCH0006"></a> + CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<h3> + ALICE JOHNSON +</h3> +<p> +The Sabbath dawned at last. The doctor had not yet made +his appearance in the village, and Saturday had been spent by +him in rehearsing to his sisters and the servants the wonderful +things he had seen abroad, and in lounging listlessly by a window +which overlooked the town, and also commanded a view +of the tasteful cottage by the riverside, where they told him +Mrs. Johnson lived. One upper window he watched with +peculiar interest, from the fact that, early in the day, a head +had protruded from it a moment, as if to inhale the wintry air, +and then been quickly withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +"Does Miss Johnson wear curls?" he asked, rather indifferently, +with his eye still on the cottage by the river. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; a great profusion of them," was Mrs. Richards' reply, +and then the doctor knew he had caught a glimpse of Alice Johnson, +for the head he had seen was covered with curls, he was sure. +</p> + +<p> +But little good did a view at that distance afford him. He +must see her nearer ere he decided as to her merits to be a belle. +He did not believe her face would at all compare with the one +which continually haunted his dreams, and over which the +coffin lid was shut weary months ago, but fifty thousand dollars +had invested Miss Alice with that peculiar charm which will +sometimes make an ugly face beautiful. The doctor was beginning +to feel the need of funds, and now that Lily was dead, the +thought had more than once crossed his mind that to set himself +at once to the task of finding a wealthy wife was a duty he +owed himself and his family. Had poor, deserted Lily lived; +had he found her in New York, he could not tell what he might +have done, for the memory of her sweet, gentle love was the one +restraining influence which kept him from much sin. He never +could forget her; never love another as he had once loved her, +but she was dead, and it was better, so he reasoned, for now +was he free to do his mother's will, and take a wife worthy of +a Richards. +</p> + +<p> +Anna was not with the party which at the usual hour entered +the family carriage with Bibles and prayer books in hand. She +seldom went out except on warm, pleasant days; but she stood in +the deep bay window watching the carriage as it wound down the +hill, thinking first how pleasant and homelike the Sabbath bells +must sound to Charlie this day, and secondly, how handsome and +stylish her young brother looked with his Parisian cloak and cap, +which he wore so gracefully. Others than Anna thought so, too; +and at the church door there was quite a little stir, as he gallantly +handed out first his mother and then his sisters, and followed +them into the church. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Richards had never enjoyed a reputation for being very +devotional, and the interval between his entrance and the commencement +of the service was passed by him in a rather scornful +survey of the time-worn house. With a sneer in his heart, he +mentally compared the old-fashioned pulpit, with its steep flight +of steps and faded trimmings, with the lofty cathedral he had +been in the habit of attending in Paris, and a feeling of disgust +and contempt was creeping over him, when a soft rustling of +silk, and a consciousness of a delicate perfume, which he at once +recognized as aristocratic, warned him that somebody was coming; +somebody entirely different from the score of females who +had distributed themselves within range of his vision, their +countrified bonnets, as he termed them, trimmed outside and in +without the least regard to taste, or combination of color. But +the little lady, moving so quietly up the aisle—she was different. +She was worthy of respect, and the Paris beau felt an inclination +to rise at once and acknowledge her superior presence. +</p> + +<p> +Wholly unconscious of the interest she was exciting, the lady +deposited her muff upon the cushions, and then kneeling reverently +upon the well-worn stool, covered her face with the hands +which had so won the doctor's admiration. What a little creature +she was, scarcely larger than a child twelve summers old, +and how gloriously beautiful were the curls of indescribable hue, +falling in such profusion from beneath the jaunty hat. All this +Dr. Richards noted, marveling that she knelt so long, and wondering +what she could be saying. +</p> + +<p> +Alice's devotion ended at last, and the view so coveted was +obtained; for in adjusting her dress Alice turned toward him, +or rather toward his mother, and the doctor drew a sudden +breath as he met the brilliant flashing of those laughing sunny +blue eyes, and caught the radiant expression of that face, slightly +dimpled with a smile. Beautiful, wondrously beautiful was +Alice Johnson, and yet the features were not wholly regular, for +the piquant nose had a slight turn up, and the forehead was not +very high; but for all this, the glossy hair, the dancing blue eyes, +the apple-blossom complexion, and the rosebud mouth made +ample amends; and Dr. Richards saw no fault in that witching +face, flashing its blue eyes for an instant upon him, and then +modestly turning to the service just commencing. So absorbed +was Dr. Richards as not to notice that the strain of music filling +the old church did not come from the screeching melodeon he +had so anathematized, but from an organ as mellow and sweet +in its tone as any he had heard across the sea. He did not notice +anything; and when his sister, surprised at his sitting posture, +whispered to him of her surprise, he started quickly, and next +time the congregation arose he was the first upon his feet, +mingling his voice with that of Alice Johnson and even excelling +her in the loudness of his reading! +</p> + +<p> +As if divining his wishes in the matter, his mother turned +to the eagerly expectant doctor, whom she introduced as "My +son, Dr. Richards." +</p> + +<p> +Alice had heard much of Dr. Richards from the young girls +of Snowdon. She had heard his voice in the Psalter, his responses +in the Litany, and accepted it as a sign of marked improvement. +He could not be as irreverent and thoughtless as he +had been represented by those who did not like him; he must +have changed during his absence, and she frankly offered him +her hand, and with a smile which he felt even to his finder tips, +welcomed him home, making some trivial remark touching the +contrast between their quiet town and the cities he had +left. +</p> + +<p> +"But you will help make it pleasanter for us this winter, I +am sure," she continued, and the sweet blue eyes sought his +for an answer as to whether he would desert Snowdon immediately. +</p> + +<p> +What a weak, vacillating creature is man before a pretty +woman like Alice Johnson. Twenty-four hours ago, and the +doctor would have scoffed at the idea that he should tarry +longer than a week or two at the farthest in that dull by-place, +where the people were only half civilized; but now the tables +were turned as by magic. Snowdon was as pretty a rural village +as New England could boast, and he meant to enjoy it for +a while. It would be a relief after the busy life he had led, and +was just the change he needed! So, in answer to Alice's remark, +he said he should probably remain at home some time, that he +always found it rather pleasant at Snowdon, though as a boy +he had, he supposed, often chafed at its dullness; but he saw +differently now. Besides, it could not now be dull, with the +acquisition it had received since he was there before; and he +bowed gracefully toward the young lady, who acknowledged the +compliment with a faint blush, and then turned toward the +group of "noisy, ill-bred children," as Dr. Richards thought, +who came thronging about her. +</p> + +<p> +"My Sabbath school scholars," Alice said, as if in answer to +these mental queries, "Ah, here comes my youngest—my pet," +and Alice stooped to caress a little rosy-cheeked boy, with bright +brown eyes and patches on both coat sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor saw the patches, but not the handsome face, and +with a gesture of impatience, turned to go, just as his ear caught +another kiss, and he knew the patched boy received what he +would have given much to have. +</p> + +<p> +"Hanged if I don't half wish I was one of those ragged +urchins," he said, after handing his mother and sisters to their +carriage, and seating himself at their side. "But does not Miss +Johnson display strange taste? Surely some other one less +refined might be found to look after those brats, if they must +be looked after, which I greatly doubt. Better leave them, as you +find them; can't elevate them if you try. It's trouble thrown +away." +</p> + +<p> +Just before turning from the main road into the park which +led to Terrace Hill, they met a stylish little covered sleigh. The +colored driver politely touched big hat to the ladies, who leaned +out a moment to look after him. +</p> + +<p> +"That's Mrs. Johnson's turnout," said Eudora. "In the +winter Martin always takes Alice to church and then returns +for her." +</p> + +<p> +"And folks say," interposed Asenath, "that if the walking +is bad or the weather cold, both Alice and her mother go two +miles out of their way to carry home some old woman or little +child, who lives at a distance. I've seen Alice myself with half +a dozen or more of these children, and she looked as proud and +happy as a queen. Queer taste, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +John thought it was, though he himself said: "It is like what +Lily would have done, had she possessed the power and +means." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, brother, what of Miss Alice? Was she at church?" +Anna asked softly. "I need not ask though, for of course she +was. I should almost as soon think of hearing that Mr. Howard +himself was absent as Alice." +</p> + +<p> +"That reminds me," said John, "of what you said concerning +Mr. Howard and Alice. There can't be any truth in it. She +surely does not fancy him." +</p> + +<p> +"Not as a lover," Anna replied. "She respects him greatly, +however, because he is a clergyman." +</p> + +<p> +"Is she then a very strong church woman?" John asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but not a bit of a blue," Anna replied. "If all Christians +were like Alice, religion would be divested of much of +its supposed gloom. She shows it everywhere, and so does not +have to wear it on set occasions to prove that she possesses it. +How were you pleased with Miss Johnson?" +</p> + +<p> +"How was I pleased with her? I felt like kissing the hem of +her blue silk, of course! But I tell you, Anna, those ragged, +dirty urchins who came trooping into that damask-cushioned +pew, marred the picture terribly. What possible pleasure can she +take in teaching them?" +</p> + +<p> +Anna had an idea of the pleasure it might be to feel that one +was doing good, but she could not explain lucidly, so she did +not attempt it. She only said Miss Alice was very benevolent +and received her reward in the love bestowed upon her so freely +by those whom she befriended. +</p> + +<p> +"And to win her good graces, must one pretend to be interested +in those ragamuffins?" John asked, a little spitefully. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no, not unless they were. Alice could not wish you to +be deceitful," was Anna's reply, after which a long silence ensued, +and Anna dropped away to sleep, while her brother sat +watching the fire blazing in the grate, and trying to decide +as to his future course. +</p> + +<p> +Should he return to New York, accept the offer of an old +friend of his father's, an experienced practitioner, and thus earn +his own bread honorably; or, should he remain a while at +Snowdon and cultivate Alice Johnson? He had never yet failed +when he chose to exert himself, and though he might, for a time, +be compelled to adopt a different code of morality from that +which he at present acknowledged, he would do it for once. He +could be interested in those ragged children; he could encourage +Sunday schools; he could attend church as regularly as Alice +herself; and, better yet, he could doctor the poor for nothing, +as that was sure to tell, and he would do it, too, if necessary. +This was the finale which he reached at last by a series of arguments +pro and con, and when it was reached, he was anxious to +commence the task at once. He presumed he could love Alice +Johnson; she was so pretty; but even if he didn't, he would only +be doing what thousands had done before him. He should be +very proud of her, and would certainly try to make her happy. +One long, almost sobbing sigh to the memory of poor Lily, who +had loved so much and been so cruelly betrayed, one faint +struggle with conscience, which said that Alice Johnson was too +pure a gem for him to trifle with, and then, the past, with its sad +memories, was buried. +</p> + +<p> +"Not going to church twice in one day!" Mrs. Richards exclaimed +as the doctor threw aside the book he had been reading, +and started for his cloak. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes," he answered. "I liked that parson so much +better than I expected, that I think I'll go again," and hurrying +out, he was soon on his way to St. Paul's. +</p> + +<p> +"Gone on foot, too, when it's so cold!" and the mother, who +had risen and stood watching him from the window, spoke +anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +The service was commencing, but the doctor was in no hurry +to take his seat. He would as soon be seen as not, and, vain fop +that he was, he rather enjoyed the stirring of heads he felt +would ensue when he moved up the aisle. At last he would wait +no longer, and with a most deferential manner, as if asking +pardon for disturbing the congregation, he walked to his pew +door, and depositing his hat and cloak, sat down just where he +meant to sit, next the little figure, at which he did not glance, +knowing, of course, that it was Alice. +</p> + +<p> +How then was he astonished and confounded when at the +reading of the Psalter, another voice than hers greeted his ear!—a +strange, sharp voice, whose tones were not as indicative of +refinement as Alice's had been, and whose pronunciation, distinctly +heard, savored somewhat of the so-called down East. He +looked at her now, moving off a foot or more, and found her a +little, odd, old woman, shriveled and withered, with velvet hat, +not of the latest style, its well-kept strings of black vastly different +from the glossy blue he had so much admired at an earlier +period of the day. Was ever man more disappointed? Who was +she, the old witch, for so he mentally termed the inoffensive +woman devoutly conning her prayer book, unconscious of the +wrath her presence was exciting in the bosom of the young man +beside her! How he wished he had stayed at home, and were +it not that he sat so far distant from the door, he would certainly +have left in disgust. What a drawling tone was Mr. +Howard's. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the doctor's thoughts. But hark! Whose voice +was that? The congregation seemed to hold their breath as the +glorious singer warbled forth the bird-like strain, "Thou that +takest away the sins of the world." She sang those words as if +she felt them every one, and Dr. Richards' heart thrilled with +an indefinable emotion us he listened. "Thou that sittest on the +right hand of God the Father;" how rich and full her voice +as she sang that alone; and when the final Amen was reached, +and the grand old chant was ended, Dr. Richards sat like one +entranced, straining his ear to catch the last faint echo of the +sweetest music he had ever heard. +</p> + +<p> +Could Alice sing like that, and who was this nightingale? +How he wished he knew; and when next the people arose, +obedient to the organ's call, he was of their number, and turning +full about, looked up into the gallery, starting as he looked, +and half uttering an exclamation of surprise. There was no +mistaking the Russian sable fur, the wide blue ribbons thrown +so gracefully back, the wealth of sunny hair, or the lustrous +eyes, which swept for an instant over the congregation below, +taking in him with the rest, and then were dropped upon the +keys, where the snowy, ungloved hands were straying. The +organist was Alice Johnson! There were no more regrets now +that he had come to church, no more longings to be away, no +more maledictions against Mr. Howard's drawling manner, no +more invectives against the poor old woman, listening like himself +with rapt attention, and wondering if the music of heaven +could be sweeter than that her bonny Alice made. The doctor, +too, felt better for such music, and he never remembered having +been more attentive to a sermon in his life than to the one, which +followed the evening service. +</p> + +<p> +When it was ended, and the people dismissed, she came tripping +down the stairs, flooding the dingy vestibule with a world +of sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, Aunt Densie, here I am. Martin is waiting for us," +the doctor heard her say to the old lady, who was elbowing her +way through the crowd, and who at last came to a standstill, +apparently looking for something she could not find. "What +is it, auntie?" Alice said again. "Lost something, have you? +I'll be with you in a minute." +</p> + +<p> +Two hours ago, and Dr. Richards would not have cared if +fifty old women had lost their entire wardrobe. As an attache +of some kind to Alice Johnson, Densie was an object of importance, +and stepping forward, just as Alice had made her +way to the distressed old lady's side, he very politely offered to +assist in the search. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, Dr. Richards, thank you," Alice said, as the black kid +was found, and passed to its anxious owner. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor never dreamed of an introduction, for his practiced +eye saw at once that however Alice might auntie her, the woman +was still a servant. How then was he surprised when Alice said: +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Densmore, this is Dr. Richards, from Terrace Hill," +adding, in an aside to him: "My old nurse, who took care of +both mother and myself when we were children." +</p> + +<p> +They were standing in the door now, and the covered sleigh +was drawn up just in front. +</p> + +<p> +"Auntie first," she said, as they reached the carriage steps, +and so the doctor was fain to help auntie in, whispering gallantly +in an aside: +</p> + +<p> +"Age before beauty always!" +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," and Alice's ringing laugh cut the winter air +as she followed Densie Densmore, the doctor carefully wrapping +her cloak about her, and asking if her fur was pulled up sufficiently +around her neck. +</p> + +<p> +"It's very cold," he said, glancing up at the glittering stars, +scarcely brighter than the blue eyes flashing on him. "At least +I found it so on my walk to church," and with a slight shiver +the scheming doctor was bowing himself away, when Alice exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you walk this wintry night? Pray, gratify me then +by accepting a seat in our sleigh. There's plenty of room without +crowding auntie." +</p> + +<p> +Happy Dr. Richards! How he exerted himself to be agreeable, +talking about the singing, asking if she often honored the +people as she had to-night. +</p> + +<p> +"I take Miss Fisher's place when she is absent," Alice replied, +whereupon, the doctor said he must have her up at Terrace Hill +some day, to try Anna's long-neglected instrument. "It was +once a most superb affair, but I believe it is sadly out of tune. +Anna is very fond of you, Miss Johnson, and your visits would +benefit her greatly. I assure you there's a duty of charity to +be discharged at Terrace Hill as well as elsewhere. Anna suffers +from too close confinement indoors, but, with a little skill, +I think we can manage to get her out once more. Shall we try?" +</p> + +<p> +Selfish Dr. Richards! It was all the same to him whether +Anna went out once a day or once a year, but Alice did not +suspect him and she answered frankly that she should have +visited Terrace Hill more frequently, had she supposed his +mothers and sisters cared particularly for society, but she had +always fancied they preferred being alone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0007" id="h2HCH0007"></a> + CHAPTER VII +</h2> +<h3> + RIVERSIDE COTTAGE +</h3> +<p> +Mrs. Johnson did not like Dr. Richards, and yet he became an +almost daily visitor at Riverside Cottage, where one face at least +grew brighter when he came, and one pair of eyes beamed on him +a welcome. His new code of morality worked admirably. Mr. +Howard himself was not more regular at church, or Alice more +devout, than Dr. Richards. The children, whom he had denominated +"ragged brats," were no longer spurned with contempt, +but fed with peanuts and molasses candy. He was popular with +the children, but the parents, clear-sighted, treated him most +shabbily at his back, accusing him of caring only for Miss Alice's +good opinion. +</p> + +<p> +This was what the poor said, and what many others thought. +Even Anna, who took everything for what it seemed, roused +herself and more than once remonstrated with her brother upon +the course he was pursuing, if he were not in earnest, as something +he once said to her made her half suspect. +</p> + +<p> +She had become very intimate with Alice latterly, and as her +health improved with the coming of spring, almost every fine +day found her at Riverside Cottage, where once she and Mrs. +Johnson stumbled upon a confidential chat, having for its subject +John and Alice, Anna said nothing against her brother. +She merely spoke of him as kind and affectionate, but the quick-seeing +mother detected more than the words implied, and after +that the elegant doctor was less welcome to her fireside than, +he had been before. +</p> + +<p> +As the winter passed away and spring advanced, he showed no +intentions of leaving Snowdon, but on the contrary opened an +office in the village, greatly to the surprise of the inhabitants, +who remembered his former contempt for any one who could +settle down in that dull town, and greatly to the dismay of old +Dr. Rogers, who for years had blistered and bled the good people +without a fear of rivalry. +</p> + +<p> +"Does Dr. Richards intend locating permanently in Snowdon?" +Mrs. Johnson asked of her daughter as they sat alone one +pleasant spring evening. +</p> + +<p> +"His sign would indicate as much," was Alice's reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother," she said gently, "you look pale and worried. You +have looked so for some time past. What is it, mother? Are +you very sick, or are you troubled about me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Is there any reason why I should be troubled about my +darling?" asked the mother. +</p> + +<p> +Alice never had any secrets from her mother, and she answered +frankly: "I don't know, unless—unless—mother, why +don't you like Dr. Richards?" +</p> + +<p> +The ice was fairly broken now, and very briefly but candidly +Mrs. Johnson told why she did not like him. He was handsome, +refined, educated, and agreeable, she admitted, but still there +was something lacking. The mask he was wearing had not deceived +her, and she would have liked him far better without it. +This she said to Alice, adding gently: "He may be all he seems, +but I doubt it. I distrust him greatly. I think he fancies you +and loves your money." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, mother," and in Alice's voice there was a sound of tears, +"you do him injustice, and he has been so kind to us, while +Snowdon is so much pleasanter since he came." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you engaged to him?" was Mrs. Johnson's next question. +</p> + +<p> +"No," and Alice looked up wonderingly. "I do not believe +I like him well enough for that." +</p> + +<p> +Alice Johnson was wholly ingenuous and would not for the +world have concealed a thing from her mother, and very frankly +she continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I like Dr. Richards better than any gentleman I have ever +met. I should have told you, mother." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless my darling, and keep her as innocent as now," +Mrs. Johnson murmured. "I am glad there is no engagement. +Will you promise there shall not be for one year at least?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I will, I do," Alice said at last. +</p> + +<p> +A second "God bless my darling," came from the mother's +lips, and drawing her treasure nearer to her, she continued: +"You have made me very happy, and by and by you'll be so +glad. You may leave me now, for I am tired and sick." +</p> + +<p> +It was long ere Alice forgot the expression of her mother's +face or the sound of her voice, so full of love and tenderness, +as she bade her good-night on that last evening they ever spent +together alone. The indisposition of which Mrs. Johnson had +been complaining for several days, proved to be no light matter, +and when next morning Dr. Rogers was summoned to her bedside, +he decided it to be a fever which was then prevailing to +some extent in the neighboring towns. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon it was told at Terrace Hill that Mrs. Johnson +was very sick, and half an hour later the Richards carriage, +containing the doctor and his Sister Anna, wound down the +hill, and passing through the park, turned in the direction of +the cottage, where they found Mrs. Johnson even worse than +they had anticipated. The sight of distress aroused Anna at +once, and forgetting her own feebleness she kindly offered to +stay until night if she could be of any service. Mrs. Johnson +was fond of Anna, and she expressed her pleasure so eagerly +that Anna decided to remain, and went with Alice to remove her +wrappings. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed, as a sudden thought seemed +to strike her. "I don't know as I can stay after all, though I +might write it here, I suppose as well as at home; and as John +is going to New York to-night he will take it along." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" Alice asked; and Anna replied: +</p> + +<p> +"You'll think me very foolish, no doubt, but I want to know if +you too think so. I'm so dependent on other's opinions," and, +in a low tone, Anna told of the advertisement seen early last +winter, how queerly it was expressed, and how careless John had +been in tearing off the name and address, with which to light +his cigar. "It seems to me," she continued, "that 'unfortunate +married woman' is the very one I want." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but how will you find her? I understand that the address +was burned," Alice rejoined quickly, feeling herself that +Anna was hardly sane in her calculations. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I've used that in the wording," Anna answered. "I +do not know as it will ever reach her, it's been so long, but if +it does, she'll be sure to know I mean her, or somebody like her." +</p> + +<p> +"I dislike writing very much," she said, as she saw the array +of materials, "and I write so illegibly too. Please do it for +me, that's a dear, good girl," and she gave the pen to Alice, +who wrote the first word, "Wanted," and then waited for Anna +to dictate. +</p> +<div class="quote"><p class="noindent"> +"<span class="smcaps">Wanted</span>—By an invalid lady, whose home is in the country, +a young woman, who will be both useful and agreeable, either +as a companion or waiting maid. No objection will be raised +if the woman is married, and unfortunate, or has a child a few +months old. Address, +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +"A.E.R., Snowdon, Hampden Co., Mass." +</p></div> +<p> +Alice thought it the queerest advertisement she had ever seen, +but Anna was privileged to do queer things, and folding the +paper, she went out into the hall, where the doctor sat waiting +for her. +</p> + +<p> +John's mustached lip curled a little scornfully as he read it. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, puss, that girl or woman is in Georgia by this time, +and as the result of this, Terrace Hill will be thronged with unfortunate +women and children, desiring situations. Better let +me burn this, as I did the other, and not be foolish. She will +never see it," and John made a gesture as if he would put it +in the stove, but Anna caught his hand, saying imploringly: +"Please humor me this once. She may see it, and I'm so interested." +</p> + +<p> +Anna was always humored, and the doctor placed in his memorandum +book the note, then turning to Alice he addressed her +in so low a tone that Anna readily took the hint and left them +together. Dr. Richards was not intending to be gone long, he +said, though the time would seem a little eternity, so much was +his heart now bound up in Snowdon. +</p> + +<p> +Afraid lest he might say something more of the same nature, +Alice hastened to ask if he had seen her mother, and what he +thought of her. +</p> + +<p> +"I stepped in for a moment while you were in the library," +he replied. "She seemed to have a high fever, and I fancied it +increased while I stood by her. I am sorry to leave while she +is so sick, but remember that if anything happens you will be +dearer to me than ever," and the doctor pressed the little hand +which he took in his to say good-by, for now he must really go. +</p> + +<p> +As the day and night wore on Mrs. Johnson grew worse so +rapidly, that at her request a telegram was forwarded to Mr. +Liston, who had charge of her moneyed affairs, and who came +at once, for the kind old man was deeply interested in the widow +and her lovely daughter. As Mrs. Johnson, could bear it, they +talked alone together until he perfectly understood what her +wishes were with regard to Alice, and how to deal with Dr. +Richards, whom he had not yet seen. Then promising to +return again in case the worst should happen, he took his leave, +while Mrs. Johnson, now that a weight was lifted from her mind, +seemed to rally, and the physician pronounced her better. But +with that strange foreknowledge, as it were, which sometimes +comes to people whose days are nearly numbered, she felt that +she would die, and that in mercy this interval of rest and freedom +from pain was granted her, in which she might talk with +Alice concerning the arrangements for the future. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, darling," she said, when they were alone, "come sit +by me here on the bed and listen to what I say." +</p> + +<p> +Alice obeyed, and taking her mother's hot hands in hers she +waited for what was to come. +</p> + +<p> +"You have learned to trust God in prosperity, and He will be +a thousandfold nearer to you in adversity. You'll miss me, I +know, and be very lonely without me, but you are young, and +life has many charms for you, besides God will never forget or +forsake His covenant children." +</p> + +<p> +Gradually as she talked the wild sobbing ceased, and when the +white face lifted itself from its hiding place there was a look +upon it as if the needed strength had been sought and to some +extent imparted. +</p> + +<p> +"My will was made some time ago," Mrs. Johnson continued, +"and I need not tell you that with a few exceptions, such as +legacies to Densie Densmore, and some charitable institutions, +you are my sole heir. Mr. Liston is to be your guardian, and +will look after your interests until you are of age, or longer if +you choose. You know that as both your father and myself were +the only children you have no near relatives on either side—none +to whom you can look for protection. +</p> + +<p> +"You will remember having heard me speak occasionally of +some friends now living in Kentucky, a Mrs. Worthington, whose +husband was a distant relative of ours. Ralph Worthington and +your father were schoolboys together, and afterward college companions. +Only once did anything come between them, and that +was a young girl, a very young girl, whom both desired, and +whom only one could have." +</p> + +<p> +Alice was interested now, and forgetting in a measure her +grief, she asked quickly: "Did my father love some one else +than you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I never knew he did," and a tear rolled down the faded cheek +of the sick woman. "Ralph Worthington was true as steel, and +when he found another preferred to himself, he generously +yielded the contest." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I shall like Mr. Worthington," Alice exclaimed, a desire +rising in her heart to see the man who had loved and lost her +mother. +</p> + +<p> +"He was, at his own request, groomsman at our wedding, +and the bridesmaid became his wife in little less than a year." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he love her?" Alice asked, in some astonishment, and +her mother replied evasively: +</p> + +<p> +"He was kind and affectionate, while she loved him with all a +woman's devotion. I was but sixteen when I became a bride, and +several years elapsed ere God blessed me with a child. Your +father was consumptive, and the chances were that I should +early be left a widow. This it was which led to the agreement +made by the two friends that if either died the living one should +care for the widow and fatherless. To see the two you would +not have guessed that the athletic Ralph would be the first to +go, yet so it was. He died ere you were born." +</p> + +<p> +"Then he is dead? Oh, I'm so sorry," Alice exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he's dead; and, as far as possible, your father fulfilled +his promise to the widow and her child—a little boy, five years +old, of whom Mrs. Worthington herself was appointed guardian. +I never knew what spirit of evil possessed Eliza, but in less +than a year after her husband's death, she made a second and +most unfortunate marriage. Mr. Murdoch proved a greater +scoundrel than we supposed, and when their little girl was nearly +two years old, we heard of a divorce. Mr. Johnson's health was +failing fast, and we were about to make the tour of Europe. +Just before we sailed we visited poor Eliza, whom we found +heartbroken, for the brutal wretch had managed to steal her +daughter, and carried it no one knew whither. I never shall forgot +the distress of the brother. Clasping my dress, he sobbed: +'Oh, lady, please bring back my baby sister, or Hugh will surely +die.' I've often thought of him since, and wondered what he +had grown to be. We comforted Eliza as best we could, and +left money to be used for her in case she needed it. Then we +embarked with you and Densie for Europe. You know how +long we stayed there, how for a while, your father seemed to +regain his strength, how he at last grew worse and hastened +home to die. In the sorrow and excitement which followed, it +is not strange that Eliza was for a time forgotten, and when I +remembered and inquired for her again, I heard that Hugh had +been adopted by some relation in Kentucky, that the stolen child +had been mysteriously returned, and was living with its mother +in Elmwood. +</p> + +<p> +"At first Eliza appeared a little cool, but this soon wore off. +She did not talk much of Hugh. Neither did she say much of +Adaline, who was then away at school. Still my visit was a +sadly satisfactory one, as we recalled old times when we were +girls together, weeping over our great loss when our husbands +were laid to rest. Then we spoke of their friendship, and lastly +of the contract. +</p> + +<p> +"'It sounds preposterous, in me, I know,' Mrs. Worthington +said, when we parted, 'you are so rich, and I so poor, but if ever +your Alice should want a mother's care, I will gladly give it +to her.' +</p> + +<p> +"This was nearly eight years ago. In my anxiety about you, +I failed to write her for a long, long time, while she was long +in answering, and then the correspondence ceased till just before +her removal to Kentucky, when she apprised me of the change. +You have now the history of Mrs. Worthington, the only person +who comes to mind as one to whose care I can intrust you." +</p> + +<p> +"But, mother, I may not be wanted there," and Alice's lip +quivered painfully. +</p> + +<p> +"You will not go empty-handed, nor be a burden to them. +They are poor, and money will not come amiss. I said that Mr. +Liston would attend to all pecuniary matters, paying your allowance +quarterly; and I am sure you will not object when I +tell you that I think it right to leave Adaline the sum of one +thousand dollars. It will not materially lessen your inheritance, +and it will do her a world of good. Mr. Liston will arrange it +for you. You will remain here until you hear from Mrs. Worthington, +and then abide by her arrangements. Will you go, my +daughter—go cheerfully and do as I desire?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, mother, I'll go," came gaspingly from Alice's lips. "I'll +go; but, mother, oh, mother," and Alice's cry ended as it always +did, "you will not, you must not die!" +</p> + +<p> +But neither tears, nor prayers could avail to keep the mother +longer. Her work on earth was done, and after this conversation +with her daughter, she grew worse so rapidly that hope died out +of Alice's heart, and she knew that soon she would be motherless. +There were days and nights of pain and delirium in which the +sick woman recognized none of those around her save Alice, +whom she continually blessed as her darling, praying that God, +too, would bless and keep His covenant child. At last there +came a change, and one lovely Sabbath morning, ere the bell +from St. Paul's tower sent forth its summons to the house of +God, there rang from its belfry a solemn toll, and the villagers +listening to it, said, as they counted forty-four, that Mrs. Johnson +was dead. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0008" id="h2HCH0008"></a> + CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<h3> + MR. LISTON AND THE DOCTOR +</h3> +<p> +Among Snowdon's poor that day, as well as among the wealthier +class, there was many an aching heart, and many a prayer +was breathed for the stricken Alice, not less beloved than the +mother had been. At Terrace Hill mansion too, much sorrow +was expressed. On the whole it was very unfortunate that +Mrs. Johnson should have died so unexpectedly, and they did +wish John was there to comfort the young girl who, they heard, +refused to see any one except the clergyman and Mr. Liston. +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose we telegraph for John," Eudora said, and in less +than two hours thereafter, Dr. Richards in New York read that +Alice was an orphan. +</p> + +<p> +There was a pang as he thought of her distress, a wish that +he were with her, and then in his selfish heart the thought arose, +"What if she does not prove as wealthy as I have supposed? +Will that make any difference?" +</p> + +<p> +"I must do something," he soliloquized, "or how can I ever +pay those debts in New York, of which mother knows nothing? +I wish that widow—" +</p> + +<p> +He did not finish his wishes, for a turn in the path brought +him suddenly face to face with Mr. Liston, whom he had seen +at a distance, and whom he recognized at once. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll quiz the old codger," he thought. "He don't, of course, +know me, and will never suspect my object." +</p> + +<p> +Mistaken, doctor! The old codger was fully prepared. He +did know Dr. Richards by sight, and was rather glad than otherwise +when the elegant dandy, taking a seat upon the gnarled +roots of the tree under which he was sitting, made some trivial +remark about the weather, which was very propitious for the +crowd who were sure to attend Mrs. Johnson's funeral. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Mr. Liston presumed there would be a crowd. It was +very natural there should be, particularly as the deceased was +greatly beloved and was also reputed wealthy, "It beats all what +a difference it makes, even after death, whether one is supposed +to be rich or poor," and the codger worked away industriously at +the pine stick he was whittling. +</p> + +<p> +"But in this case the supposition of riches must be correct, +though I know people are oftener overvalued than otherwise," +and with his gold-headed cane the doctor thrust at a dandelion +growing near. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing truer than that," returned the whittler, brushing +the litter from his lap. "Now I've no doubt that prig of a +doctor, who they say is shining up to Alice, will be disappointed +when he finds just how much she's worth. Let me see. What +is his name? Lives up there," and with his jackknife Mr. Liston +pointed toward Terrace Hill. +</p> + +<p> +"The Richards family live there, sir. You mean their son, I +presume." +</p> + +<p> +"Ted, the chap that has traveled and come home so changed. +They do say he's actually taken to visiting all the rheumatic old +women in town, applying sticking-plasters to their backs and +administering squills to their children, all free gratis." +</p> + +<p> +Poor doctor! How he fidgeted, moving so often that his tormentor +demurely asked him if he were sitting on a thistle or +what! +</p> + +<p> +"Does Miss Johnson remain here?" the doctor asked at last, +and Mr. Liston replied by telling what he knew of the arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of Worthington the doctor looked up quickly. +Whom had he known by that name, or where had he heard it +before? "Mrs. Worthington, Mrs. Worthington," he repeated, +unpleasant memories of something, he knew not what, rising to +his mind. "Is he living in this vicinity?" +</p> + +<p> +"In Elmwood. It's a widow and her daughter," Mr. Liston +answered, wisely resolving to say nothing of a young man, lest +the doctor should feel anxious. +</p> + +<p> +"A widow and her daughter! I must be mistaken in thinking +I ever knew any one by that name, though it seems strangely +familiar," said the doctor, and as by this time he had heard all +he wished to hear, he arose, and bidding Mr. Liston good-morning +walked away in no enviable frame of mind. +</p> + +<p> +Looking at his watch the doctor found that it lacked several +hours yet ere the express from Boston was due. But this did +not discourage him. He would stay in the fields or anywhere, +and turning backward he followed the course of the river winding +under the hill until he reached the friendly woods which +shielded him from observation. How he hated himself hiding +there among the trees, and how he longed for the downward +train, which came at last, and when the village bell tolled out +its summons to the house of mourning, he sat in a corner of the +car returning to New York even faster than he had come. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually the Riverside cottage filled with people assembling +to pay the last tribute of respect to the deceased, who during +her short stay among them had endeared herself to many hearts. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, sadly, they bore her to the grave. Reverently they +laid her down to rest, and from the carriage window Alice's +white face looked wistfully out as "earth to earth, ashes to +ashes," broke the solemn stillness. Oh, how she longed to lay +there, too, beside her mother! How the sunshine, flecking the +bright June grass with gleams of gold, seemed to mock her +misery as the gravelly earth rattled heavily down upon the coffin +lid, and she knew they were covering up her mother. "If I, too, +could die!" she murmured, sinking back in the carriage corner +and covering her face with her veil. But not so easily could +life be shaken off by her, the young and strong. She must live +yet longer. She had a work to do—a work whose import she +knew not; and the mother's death, for which she then could see +no reason, though she knew well that one existed, was the entrance +to that work. She must live and she must listen while +Mr. Liston talked to her that night on business, arranging about +the letter, which was forwarded immediately to Kentucky, and +advising her what to do until an answer was received, when he +would come up again and do whatever was necessary. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0009" id="h2HCH0009"></a> + CHAPTER IX +</h2> +<h3> + MATTERS IN KENTUCKY +</h3> +<p> +Backward now with our reader we turn, and take up the +broken thread of our story at the point where we left Adah +Hastings. +</p> + +<p> +It was a bitter morning in which to face the fierce north wind, +and plow one's way to the Derby cornfield, where, in a small, +dilapidated building, Aunt Eunice Reynolds, widowed sister of +John Stanley, had lived for many years, first as a pensioner upon +her brother's bounty, and next as Hugh's incumbent. At the +time of her brother's death Aunt Eunice had intended removing +to Spring Bank, but when Hugh's mother wrote, asking for a +home, she at once abandoned the plan, and for two seasons more +lived alone, watching from her lonely door the tasseled corn +ripening in the August sun. Of all places in the world Hugh +liked the cottage best, particularly in summer. Few would +object to it then with its garden of gayly colored flowers, its +barricades of tasseled corn and the bubbling music of the brook, +gushing from the willow spring a few rods from the door. But +in the winter people from the highway, as they caught from +across the field the gleam of Aunt Eunice's light, pitied the +lonely woman sitting there so solitary beside her wintry fire. +But Aunt Eunice asked no pity. If Hugh came once a week +to spend the night, and once a day to see her, it was all that she +desired, for Hugh was her darling, her idol, the object which +kept her old heart warm and young with human love. For him +she would endure any want or encounter any difficulty, and so +it is not strange that in his dilemma regarding Adah Hastings, +he intuitively turned to her, as the one of all others who would +lend a helping hand. He had not been to see her in two whole +days, and when the gray December morning broke, and he looked +out upon the deep, untrodden snow, and then glanced across the +fields to where a wreath of smoke, even at that early hour, was +rising slowly from her chimney, he frowned impatiently, as he +thought how bad the path must be between Spring Bank and the +cornfield, whither he intended going, as he would be the first +to tell what had occurred. 'Lina's fierce opposition to and his +mother's apparent shrinking from Adah had convinced him how +hopeless was the idea that she could stay at Spring Bank with +any degree of comfort to herself or quiet to him. Aunt Eunice's +house was the only refuge for Adah, and there she would be +comparatively safe from censorious remarks. +</p> + +<p> +"Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these ye did it unto +Me," kept ringing in Hugh's ears, as he hastily dressed himself, +striking his benumbed fingers together, and trying hard to keep +his teeth from chattering, for Hugh was beginning his work of +economy, and when at daylight Claib came as usual to build his +master's fire, he had sent him back, saying he did not need +one, and bidding him go, instead, to Mrs. Hastings' chamber. +</p> + +<p> +"Make a hot one there," he said. "Pile the coals on high, +so as to heat up quick." +</p> + +<p> +As Hugh passed through the hall on his way downstairs, he +could not refrain from pausing a moment at the door of Adah's +room. The fire was burning, he knew, for he heard the kindling +coals sputtering in the flames, and that was all he heard. He +would look in an instant, he said, to see if all were well, and +carefully turning the knob he entered the chamber where the +desolate Adah lay sleeping, her glossy brown hair falling like a +veil about her sweet pale face, on which the tear stains still +were visible. +</p> + +<p> +As she lay with the firelight falling full upon her forehead, +Hugh, too, caught sight of the mark which had attracted 'Lina's +curiosity, and starting forward, bent down for a nearer view. +</p> + +<p> +"Strange that she should have that mark. Oh Heaven!" and +Hugh staggered against the bedpost as a sudden thought flashed +upon him. "Was that polished villain who had led him into +sin anything to Adaline, anything to his mother? Poor girl, +I am sorry if you, too, have been contaminated, however slight +the contamination may be," he said, softly, glancing again at +Adah, about whose lips a faint smile was playing, and who, as +he looked, murmured faintly: +</p> + +<p> +"Kiss me, George, just as you used to do." +</p> + +<p> +"Rascally villain!" Hugh muttered, clinching his fist involuntarily. +"You don't deserve that such as she should dream +of you. I'd kiss her myself if I was used to the business, but I +should only make a bungle, as I do with everything, and might +kiss you, little shaver," and Hugh bent over Willie. +</p> + +<p> +There was something in Hugh which won his confidence at +once, and stretching-out his dimpled arms, he expressed his +willingness to be taken up. Hugh could not resist Willie's +appeal, and lifting him gently in his arms, he bore him off in +triumph, the little fellow patting his cheek, and rubbing his +own against it. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what I'll do with you, my little man," he said, +as he reached the lower hall; then suddenly turning in the +direction of his mother's room, he walked deliberately to the +bedside, and ere the half-awakened 'Lina was aware of his intention, +deposited his burden between her and his mother. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, Ad, here's something that will raise you quicker than +yeast," he said, beating a hasty retreat, while the indignant +young lady verified his words by leaping half-way across the +floor, her angry tones mingling with Willie's crowing laugh, as +the child took the whole for fun, meant expressly for his benefit. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh knew that Willie was safe with his mother, and hurried +out to the kitchen, where only a few of his negroes were +yet stirring. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, Claib!" he called, "saddle Rocket quick and bring him +to the door. I'm going to the cornfield." +</p> + +<p> +"Lor' bless you, mas'r, it's done snow higher than Rocket's +head. He never'll stand it nohow." +</p> + +<p> +"Do as I bid you," was Hugh's reply, and indolent Claib went +shivering to the stable where Hugh's best horses were kept. +</p> + +<p> +A whinnying sound of welcome greeted him as he entered, +but was soon succeeded by a spirited snort as he attempted to +lead out a most beautiful dapple gray, Hugh's favorite steed, +his pet of pets, and the horse most admired and coveted in all +the country. +</p> + +<p> +"None of yer ars," Claib said, coaxingly, as the animal threw +up its graceful neck defiantly. "You've got to git along, 'case +Mas'r Hugh say so. You knows Mas'r Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" Hugh asked, coming out upon the stoop, and +comprehending the trouble at a glance. "Rocket, Rocket," he +cried, "easy, my boy," and in an instant Rocket's defiant attitude +changed to one of perfect obedience. +</p> + +<p> +"There, my beauty," he said, as the animal continued to +prance around him, now snuffing at the snow, which he evidently +did not fancy, and then pawing at it with his forefeet. "There, +my beauty, you've showed off enough. Come, now, I've work +for you to do." +</p> + +<p> +Docile as a lamb when Hugh commanded, he stood quietly +while Claib equipped him for his morning's task. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell mother I shan't be back to breakfast," Hugh said, as +he sprang into the saddle, and giving loose rein to Rocket went +galloping through the snow. +</p> + +<p> +Under ordinary circumstances that early ride would have +been vastly exhilarating to Hugh, who enjoyed the bracing air, +but there was too much now upon his mind to admit of his +enjoying anything. Thoughts of Adah, and the increased expense +her presence would necessarily bring, flitted across his +mind, while Barney's bill, put over once, and due again ere long, +sat like a nightmare on him, for he saw no way in which to +meet it. No way save one, and Rocket surely must have felt +the throbbing of Hugh's heart as that one way flashed upon him, +for he gave a kind of coaxing whine, and dashed on over the +billowy drifts faster than before. +</p> + +<p> +"No, Rocket, no," and Hugh patted his glossy neck. He'd +never part with Rocket, never. He'd sell Spring Bank first with +all its incumbrances. +</p> + +<p> +It was now three days since Hugh had gladdened Aunt +Eunice's cottage with the sunshine of his presence, and when she +awoke that morning, and saw how high the snow was piled +around her door, she said to herself, "The boy'll be here directly +to know if I'm alive," and this accounted for the round deal +table drawn so cozily before the blazing fire, and looking so +inviting with its two plates and cups, one a fancy china affair, +sacredly kept for Hugh, whose coffee always tasted better when +sipped from its gilded side, the lightest of egg bread was steaming +on the hearth, the tenderest of steak was broiling on the +griddle, while the odor of the coffee boiling on the coals came +tantalizingly to Hugh's olfactories as Aunt Eunice opened the +door, saying pleasantly: +</p> + +<p> +"I told 'em so. I felt it in my bones, and the breakfast is +all but ready. Put Rocket up directly, and come in to the fire." +</p> + +<p> +Fastening Rocket in his accustomed place in the outer shed, +Hugh stamped the snow from his heavy boots, and then went in +to Aunt Eunice's cheerful kitchen-parlor, as she called it, where +the tempting breakfast stood upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +"No coffee! What new freak is that?" and Aunt Eunice +gazed at him in astonishment as he declined the cup she had +prepared with so much care, dropping in the whitest lumps of +sugar, and stirring in the thickest cream. +</p> + +<p> +It cost Hugh a terrible struggle to refuse that cup of coffee, +but if he would retrench, he must begin at once, and determining +to meet it unflinchingly he replied that "he had concluded +to drink water for a while, and see what that would do; much +was said nowadays about coffee being injurious, and he presumed +it was." +</p> + +<p> +"There's something on your mind," she said, observing his +abstraction. "Have you had another dunning letter, or +what?" +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Eunice had made a commencement, and in his usual +impulsive way Hugh began by asking if "she ever knew him +tell a lie?" +</p> + +<p> +No, Aunt Eunice never did. Nobody ever did, bad as some +folks thought him. +</p> + +<p> +"Do they think me very bad?" and Hugh spoke so mournfully +that Aunt Eunice tried to apologize. +</p> + +<p> +"She didn't mean anything, only folks sometimes said he +was cross and rough, and—and—" +</p> + +<p> +"Stingy," he suggested, supplying the word she hated to say. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that was what Ellen Tiffton said, because he refused to +go to the Ladies' Fair, where he was sure to have his pockets +picked. But, law, she wasn't worth minding, if she was Colonel +Tiffton's girl, and going to have a big party one week from +the next Monday. Had Hugh heard of it? +</p> + +<p> +Hugh believed Ad said something about it yesterday, but he +paid no attention, for, of course, he should not go even if he +were invited, as he had nothing fit to wear. +</p> + +<p> +"But why did you ask if I ever knew you tell a lie?" Aunt +Eunice said, and then in a low tone, as if afraid the walls might +hear, Hugh told the whole story of Adah. +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas a mighty mean trick, I know," he said, as he saw Aunt +Eunice's look of horror when he confessed the part he had had +in wronging the poor girl, "but, Aunt Eunice, that villain +coaxed me into drinking wine, which you know I never use, and +I think now he must have drugged it, for I remember a strange +feeling in my head, a feeling not like drunkenness, for I knew +perfectly well what was transpiring around me, and only felt a +don't-care-a-tive-ness which kept me silent when I should have +spoken. She has come to me at last. She believes God sent +her, and if He did He'll help me take care of her. I shall not +turn her off." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Hugh," and Aunt Eunice spoke earnestly, "you cannot +afford the expense. Think twice before you commit yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"I have thought twice, the last time just as I did the first. +Adah shall stay, and I want you to take her. You need some +one these winter nights. There's the room you call mine. Give +her that. Will you, Aunt Eunice?" and Hugh wound his arm +around Aunt Eunice's ample waist, while he pleaded for Adah +Hastings. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Eunice was soon won over, as Hugh knew she would +be, and it was settled that she should come that very day, if +possible. +</p> + +<p> +"Look, the sky is clearing," and he pointed to the sunshine +streaming through the window. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll have her room fixed before I go," and with his own +hands Hugh split and prepared the wood which was to kindle +Adah's fire, then with Aunt Eunice's help sundry changes were +made in the arrangement of the rather meager furniture, which +never seemed so meager to Hugh as when he looked at it with +Adah's eyes and wondered how she'd like it. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I wish I were rich," he sighed mentally, and taking out +his well-worn purse he carefully counted its contents. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Eunice, who had stepped out for a moment, reappeared, +bringing a counterpane and towel, one of which was spread upon +the bed, while the other covered the old pine stand, marred and +stained with ink and tallow, the result of Hugh's own carelessness. +</p> + +<p> +"What a heap of difference that table cloth and pocket handkerchief +do make," was Hugh's man-like remark, his face brightening +with the improved appearance of things, and his big heart +grew warm with the thought that he might keep his twenty-five +dollars and Adah be comfortable still. +</p> + +<p> +"Ad may pick Adah's eyes out before I get home," was his +laughing remark as he vaulted into his saddle and dashed off +across the fields, where, beneath the warm Kentucky sun, the +snow was already beginning to soften. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast had been rather late at Spring Bank that morning, +for the strangers had required some care, and Miss 'Lina was +sipping her coffee rather ill-naturedly when a note was handed +her, and instantly her mood was changed. +</p> + +<p> +"Splendid, mother!" she exclaimed, glancing at the tiny, +three-cornered thing; "an invitation to Ellen Tiffton's party. +I was half afraid she would leave me out after Hugh's refusal +to attend the Ladies' Fair, or buy a ticket for her lottery. It +was only ten dollars either, and Mr. Harney spent all of forty, +I'm sure, in the course of the evening. I think Harney is splendid." +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh had no ten dollars to spare," Mrs. Worthington said, +apologetically, "though, of course, he might have been more +civil than to tell Ellen it was a regular swindle, and the getters-up +ought to be indicted. I almost wonder at her inviting him, +as she said she'd never speak to him again." +</p> + +<p> +"Invited him! Who said she had? It's only one card for +me," and with a most satisfied expression 'Lina presented the +rote to her mother, whose pale face flushed at the insult thus +offered her son—an insult which even 'Lina felt, but would not +acknowledge, lest it should interfere with her going. +</p> + +<p> +"You won't go, of course," Mrs. Worthington said, quietly. +"You'll resent her slighting Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed I shan't," the young lady retorted. "I hardly think +it fair in Ellen, but I shall accept, of course, and I must go +to town to-day to see about having my pink silk fixed. I think +I'll have some black lace festooned around the skirt. How I +wish I could have a new one. Do you suppose Hugh has any +money?" +</p> + +<p> +"None for new dresses or lace flounces, either," Mrs. Worthington +replied, "I fancy he begins to look old and worn +with this perpetual call for money from us. We must economize." +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind, when I get Bob Harney I'll pay off old scores," +'Lina said, laughingly, as she arose from the table, and went +to look over her wardrobe. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Hugh had returned, meeting in the kitchen with +Lulu. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Lu, what is it? What's happened?" Hugh asked, as +he saw she was full of some important matter. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant the impetuous Lulu told him of the party to +which he was not invited, together with the reason why, and the +word she had sent back. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll give 'em a piece of my mind!" she said, as she saw +Hugh change color. "She may have old Harney. His man +John told Claib how his a master said he meant to get me and +Rocket, too, some day; me for her waiting maid, I reckon. You +won't sell me, Master High, will you?" and Lulu's soft black +eyes looked pleadingly up to Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Never!" and Hugh's riding whip came down upon the table +with a force which made Lulu start. +</p> + +<p> +Satisfied that she was safe from Ellen Tiffton's whims, Lulu +darted away, singing as she went, while Hugh entered the +sitting-room, where 'Lina sat, surrounded by her party finery, +and prepared to do the amiable to the utmost. +</p> + +<p> +"That really is a handsome little boy upstairs," she said, as if +she supposed it were her mother who came in; then with an +affected start she added, "Oh, it's you! I thought 'twas mother. +Don't you think, Ellen has not invited you. Mean, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ellen can do as she likes," Hugh replied, adding, as he +guessed the meaning of all that finery, "you surely are not +going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" and 'Lina's black eyes flashed full upon him. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought perhaps you would decline for my sake," he +replied. +</p> + +<p> +An angry retort trembled on 'Lina's lip, but she had an object +to attain, so she restrained herself and answered that "she had +thought of it, but such a course would do no good, and she +wanted to go so much, the Tifftons were so exclusive and aristocratic." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh whistled a little contemptuously, but 'Lina kept her +temper, and continued, coaxingly: +</p> + +<p> +"Everybody is to be there, and after what has been said about +—about—your being rather—close, you'd like to have your sister +look decent, I know; and really, Hugh, I can't unless you give +me a little money. Do, Hugh, be good for once." +</p> + +<p> +"Ad, I can't," and Hugh spoke sorrowfully, for a kind word +from 'Lina always touched his weaker side. "I would if I +could, but honestly I've only twenty-five dollars in the world, and +I've thought of a new coat. I don't like to look so shabby. It +hurts me worse than it does you," and Hugh's voice trembled as +he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Any but a heart of stone would have yielded at once, but +'Lina was too supremely selfish. Hugh had twenty-five dollars. +He might give her half, or even ten. She'd be satisfied with ten. +He could soon make that up. The negro hire came due ere long. +He must have forgotten that. +</p> + +<p> +No, he had not; but with the negro hire came debts, thoughts +of which gave him the old worn look his mother had observed. +Only ten dollars! It did seem hard to refuse, and if 'Lina went +Hugh wished her to look well, for underneath his apparent harshness +lurked a kind of pride in his dark sister, whose beauty was +of the bold, dashing style. +</p> + +<p> +"Take them," he said at last, counting out the ten with a +half-regretful sigh. "Make them go as far as you can, and, Ad, +remember, don't get into debt." +</p> + +<p> +"I won't," and with a civil "Thank you," 'Lina rolled up her +bills, while Hugh sought his mother, and sitting down beside +her said, abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +"Mother, are you sure that man is dead?—Ad's father I +mean?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a nervous start, a sudden paling of Mrs. Worthington's +cheek, and then she answered, sadly: +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose so, of course. I received a paper containing a +marked announcement of his death, giving accurately his name +and age. There could be no mistake. Why do you ask that +question?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, only I've been thinking of him this morning. +There's a mark on Adah's temple similar to Ad's, only not so +plain, and I did not know but she might possibly be related. +Have you noticed it?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Lina pointed it out last night, but to me it seemed a spreading +vein, nothing more. Hugh!" and Mrs. Worthington grasped +his arm with a vehemence unusual to her accustomed quiet manner, +"you seem to know Adah's later history. Do you know +her earlier? Who is she? Where did she come from?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm going to her now; will you come, too?" she said, and +accordingly both together ascended to the chamber where Adah +sat before the fire with Willie on her lap, her glossy hair, which +Lulu's skillful fingers had arranged, combed smoothly down upon +her forehead, so as to hide the mysterious mark, if mark there +were, on that fair skin. +</p> + +<p> +Something in the expression of her face as she turned toward +Mrs. Worthington made that lady start, while her heart throbbed +with an indefinable emotion. Who was Adah Hastings, and why +was she so drawn toward her? +</p> + +<p> +Addressing to her some indifferent remark, she gradually led +the conversation backward to the subject of her early home, +asking again what she could remember, but Adah was scarcely +more satisfactory than on the previous night. Memories she had +of a gentle lady, who must have been her mother, of a lad who +called her sister, and kissed her sometimes, of a cottage with +grass and flowers, and bees buzzing beneath the trees. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you faint?" Hugh asked, quickly, as his mother turned +white as ashes, and leaned against the mantel. +</p> + +<p> +She did not seem to hear him, but continued questioning +Adah. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you say bees? Were there many?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, so many, I remember, because they stung me once," +and Adah gazed dreamily into the fire, as if listening again to +the musical hum heard in that New England home, wherever it +might have been. +</p> + +<p> +"Go on, what more can you recall?" Mrs. Worthington said, +and Adah replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing but the waterfall in the river. I remember that +near our door." +</p> + +<p> +During this conversation, Hugh had been standing by the +table, where lay a few articles which he supposed belonged to +Adah. One of these was a small double locket, attached to a +slender chain. +</p> + +<p> +"The rascal's, I presume," he said to himself, and taking it +in his hand, he touched the spring, starting quickly as the +features of a young-girl met his view. How radiantly beautiful +the original of that picture must have been, and Hugh gazed +long and earnestly upon the sweet young face, and its soft, silken +curls, some shading the open brow, and others falling low upon +the uncovered neck. Adah, lifting up her head, saw what he +was doing, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you think her beautiful?" +</p> + +<p> +"Who is she?" Hugh asked, coming to her side, and passing +her the locket. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," Adah replied. "She came to me one day +when Willie was only two weeks old and my heart was so heavy +with pain. She had heard I did plain sewing and wanted some +for herself. She seemed to me like an angel, and I've sometimes +thought she was, for she never came again. In stooping over me +the chain must have been unclasped. I tried to find her when +I got well, but my efforts were all in vain, and so I've kept it +ever since. It was not stealing, was it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not," Hugh said, while Adah, opening the other +side, showed him a lock of dark brown hair, tied with a tiny +ribbon, in which was written, "<i>In memoriam</i>, Aug. 18." +</p> + +<p> +As Hugh read the date his heart gave one great throb, for +that was the summer, that the month when he lost the Golden +Haired. Something, too, reminded him of the warm moonlight +night, when the little snowy fingers, over which the fierce +waters were soon to beat, had strayed through his heavy locks, +which the girl had said were too long to be becoming, playfully +severing them at random, and saying "she means to keep the +fleece to fill a cushion with." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder whose it is?" Adah said; "I've thought it might +have been her mother's." +</p> + +<p> +"Her lover's more likely," suggested Hugh, glancing once +more at the picture, which certainly had in it a resemblance to +the Golden Haired, save that the curls were darker, and the eyes +a deeper blue. +</p> + +<p> +"Will mas'r have de carriage? He say something 'bout it," +Cæsar said, just then thrusting his woolly head in at the door, +and thus reminding Hugh that Adah had yet to hear of Aunt +Eunice and his plan of taking her thither. +</p> + +<p> +With a burst of tears, Adah listened to him, and then insisted +upon going away, as she had done the previous night. She had +no claim on him, and she could not be a burden. +</p> + +<p> +"You, madam, think it best, I'm sure," she said, appealing to +Mrs. Worthington, whose heart yearned strangely toward the unprotected +stranger, and who answered, promptly: +</p> + +<p> +"I do not, I am willing you should remain until your friends +are found." +</p> + +<p> +Adah offered no further remonstrance, but turning to Hugh, +said, hesitatingly: +</p> + +<p> +"I may hear from my advertisement. Do you take the +<i>Herald</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, though I can't say I think much of it," Hugh replied, +and Adah continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Then if you ever find anything for me, you'll tell me, and +I can go away. I said, 'Direct to Adah Hastings.' Somebody +will be sure to see it. Maybe George, and then he'll know of +Willie," and the white face brightened with eager anticipation +as Adah thought of George reading that advertisement, a part +of which had lighted Dr. Richards' cigar. +</p> + +<p> +With a muttered invective against the "villain," Hugh left +the room to see that the carriage was ready, while his mother, +following him into the hall, offered to go herself with Adah if +he liked. Glad to be relieved, as he had business that afternoon +in Versailles, and was anxious to set off as soon as possible, Hugh +accepted at once, and half an hour later, the Spring Bank carriage +drove slowly from the door, 'Lina calling after her mother +to send Cæsar back immediately. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0010" id="h2HCH0010"></a> + CHAPTER X +</h2> +<h3> + 'LINA'S PURCHASE AND HUGH'S +</h3> +<p> +There were piles of handsome dress goods upon the counter at +Harney's that afternoon, and Harney was anxious to sell. It +was not always that he favored a customer with his own personal +services, and 'Lina felt proportionably flattered when he +came forward and asked what he could show her. Of course, a +dress for the party—he had sold at least a dozen that day, but +fortunately he still had the most elegant pattern of all, and he +knew it would exactly suit her complexion and style. +</p> + +<p> +Deluded 'Lina! Richard Harney, the wealthy bachelor merchant, +did not mean one word he said. He had tried to sell +that dress a dozen times, and been as often refused, no one +caring just then to pay fifty dollars for a dress which could +only be worn on great occasions. But 'Lina was easily flattered, +while the silk was beautiful. But ten dollars was all she had, +and turning away from the tempting silk she answered faintly, +that "it was superb, but she could not afford it, besides, she had +not the money to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"Not the slightest consequence," was Harney's quick rejoinder. +"Not the slightest consequence. Your brother's credit +is good—none better in the country, and I'm sure he'll be proud +to see you in it. I should, were I your brother." +</p> + +<p> +'Lina blushed, while the wish to possess the silk grew every +moment stronger. +</p> + +<p> +"If it were only fifty dollars, it would not seem so bad," she +thought. Hugh could manage it some way, and Mr. Harney was +so good natured; he could wait a year, she knew. But the making +would cost ten dollars more, for that was the price Miss +Allis charged, to say nothing of the trimmings. "No, I can't," +she said, quite decidedly, at last, asking for the lace with which +she at first intended renovating her old pink silk, "She must +see Miss Allis first to know how much she wanted," and promising +to return, she tripped over to Frankfort's fashionable dressmaker, +whom she found surrounded with dresses for the party. +</p> + +<p> +As some time would elapse ere Miss Allis could attend to her, +she went back to Harney's just for one more look at the lovely +fabric. It was, if possible, more beautiful than before, and +Harney was more polite, while the result of the whole was that, +when 'Lina at four o'clock that afternoon entered her carriage +to go home, the despised pink silk, still unpaid on Haney's +books, was thrown down anywhere, while in her hands she carefully +held the bundle Harney brought himself, complimenting +her upon the sensation she was sure to create, and inviting her to +dance the first set with him. Then with a smiling bow he closed +the door upon her, and returning to his books wrote down Hugh +Worthington his debtor to fifty dollars more. +</p> + +<p> +"That makes three hundred and fifty," he said to himself. "I +know he can't raise that amount of ready money, and as he is +too infernal proud to be sued, I'm sure of Rocket or Lulu, it +matters but little which," and with a look upon his face which +made it positively hideous, the scheming Harney closed his +books, and sat down to calculate the best means of managing the +rather unmanageable Hugh! +</p> + +<p> +It was dark when 'Lina reached home, but the silk looked +well by firelight, better even than in the light of day, and 'Lina +would have been quite happy but for her mother's reproaches +and an occasional twinge as she wondered what Hugh would say. +He had not yet returned, and numerous were Mrs. Worthington's +surmises as to what was keeping him so late. A glance +backward for an hour or so will let us into the secret. +</p> + +<p> +It was the day when a number of negroes were to be sold +in the courthouse. There was no trouble in disposing of them +all, save one, a white-haired old man, whom they called Uncle +Sam. +</p> + +<p> +With tottering steps the old man took his place, while his +dim eyes wandered wistfully over the faces around him congregated, +as if seeking for their owner. But none was found +who cared for Uncle Sam. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't nobody bid for Sam? I fetched a thousan' dollars +onct," and the feeble voice trembled as it asked this question. +</p> + +<p> +"What will become of him if he is not sold?" Hugh asked of +a bystander, who replied, "Go back to the old place to be kicked +and cuffed by the minions of the new proprietor, Harney. You +know Harney, of Frankfort?" +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Hugh did know Harney as one who was constantly adding +to his already large possessions houses and lands and negroes +without limit, caring little that they came to him laden with the +widow's curse and the orphan's tears. This was Harney, and +Hugh always felt exasperated whenever he thought of him. Advancing +a step or two he came nearer to the negro, who took +comfort at once from the expression of his face, and stretching +out his shaking hand he said, beseechingly: +</p> + +<p> +"You, mas'r, you buy old Sam, 'case it 'ill be lonesome and +cold in de cabin at home when they all is gone. Please, mas'r." +</p> + +<p> +"What can you do?" was Hugh's query, to which the truthful +negro answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Nothin' much, 'cept to set in the chimbly corner eatin' corn +bread and bacon—or, yes," and an expression of reverence and +awe stole over the wrinkled face, as in a low tone he added, "I +can pray for young mas'r, and I will, only buy me, please." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh had not much faith in praying negroes, but something +in old Sam struck him as sincere. His prayers might do good, +and be needed somebody's, sadly. But what should he offer, +when fifteen dollars was all he had in the world, and was it his +duty to encumber himself with a piece of useless property? +Visions of the Golden Haired and Adah both arose up before +him. They would say it was right. They would tell him to buy +old Sam, and that settled the point with him. +</p> + +<p> +"Five dollars," he called out, and Sam's "God bless you," was +sounding in his ears, when a voice from another part of the +building doubled the bid, and with a moan Uncle Sam turned +imploringly toward Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"A leetle more, mas'r, an' you fotches 'em; a leetle more," he +whispered, coaxingly, and Hugh faltered out "Twelve." +</p> + +<p> +"Thirteen," came again from the corner, and Hugh caught +sight of the bidder, a sour-grained fellow, whose wife had ten +young children, and so could find use for Sam. +</p> + +<p> +"Thirteen and a half," cried Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Fourteen," responded his opponent. +</p> + +<p> +"Leetle more, mas'r, berry leetle," whispered Uncle Sam. +</p> + +<p> +"Fourteen and a quarter," said Hugh, the perspiration starting +out about his lips, as he thought how fast his pile was +diminishing, and that he could not go beyond it. +</p> + +<p> +"Fourteen and a half," from the corner. +</p> + +<p> +"Leetle more, mas'r," from Uncle Sam. +</p> + +<p> +"Fourteen, seventy-five," from Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Fifteen," from the man in the corner, and Hugh groaned +aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"That's every dime I've got." +</p> + +<p> +Quick as thought an acquaintance beside him slipped a bill +into his hand, whispering as he did so: +</p> + +<p> +"It's a V. I'll double it if necessary. I'm sorry for the +darky." +</p> + +<p> +It was very exciting now, each bidder raising a quarter each +time, while Sam's "a leetle more, mas'r," and the vociferous +cheers of the crowd, whenever Hugh's voice was heard, showed +him to be the popular party. +</p> + +<p> +"Nineteen, seventy-five," from the corner, and Hugh felt +his courage giving way as he faintly called out: +</p> + +<p> +"Twenty." +</p> + +<p> +Only an instant did the auctioneer wait, and then his decision, +"Gone!" made Hugh the owner of Uncle Sam, who, crouching +down before him, blessed him with tears and prayers. +</p> + +<p> +"I knows you're good," he said; "I knows it by yer face; +and mebby, when the rheumatics gits out of my ole legs I kin +work for mas'r a heap. Does you live fur from here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, Sam," and Hugh laughed heartily at the negro's +forlorn appearance, as, regaining his feet, he assumed a most +deprecating attitude, asking pardon for tumbling down, and +charging it all to his shaky knees. "Look here, there's no other +way, except for you to ride, and me to walk. Rocket won't carry +double," and ere Sam could remonstrate, Hugh had dismounted +and placed him in the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +Rocket did not fancy the exchange, as was manifest by an +indignant snort, and an attempt to shake Sam off, but a word +from Hugh quieted him, and the latter offered the reins to +Sam, who was never a skillful horseman, and felt a mortal terror +of the high-mettled steed beneath him. With a most frightened +expression upon his face, he grasped the saddle pommel +with both hands, and bending nearly double, gasped out: +</p> + +<p> +"Sam ain't much use't to gemman's horses. Kind of bold +me on, mas'r, till I gits de hang of de critter. He hists me +around mightily." +</p> + +<p> +So, leading Rocket with one hand, and steadying Sam with the +other, Hugh got on but slowly, and 'Lina had looked for him +many times ere she spied him from the window as he came up +the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is he, and what did you get him for?" Mrs. Worthington +asked, as Hugh led Sam into the dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +Briefly Hugh explained to her why he had bought the negro. +</p> + +<p> +"It was foolish, I suppose, but I'm not sorry yet," he added, +glancing toward the corner where the poor old man was sitting, +warming his shriveled hands by the cheerful fire, and muttering +to himself blessings on "young mas'r." +</p> + +<p> +But for the remembrance of her dress, 'Lina would have +stormed, but as it was, she held her peace, and even asked Sam +some trivial question concerning his former owners. Supper +had been delayed for Hugh, and as he took his seat at the table, +he inquired after Adah. +</p> + +<p> +"Pretty well when I left," said his mother, adding that Lulu +had been there since, and reported her as looking pale and worn, +while Aunt Eunice seemed worried with Willie, who was inclined +to be fretful. +</p> + +<p> +"They need some one," Hugh said, refusing the coffee his +mother passed him on the plea that he did not feel like drinking +it to-night. "They need one of the servants. Can't you spare +Lulu?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington did not know, but 'Lina, to whom Lulu +was a kind of waiting maid, took the matter up alone, and +said: +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed they couldn't. There was no one at Spring Bank +more useful, and it was preposterous for Hugh to think of giving +their best servant to Adah Hastings. Let her take care of her +baby herself. She guessed it wouldn't hurt her. Anyway, they +couldn't afford to keep a servant for her." +</p> + +<p> +With a long-drawn sigh, Hugh finished his supper, and was +about lighting his cigar when he felt some one touching him, +and turning around he saw that Sam had grasped his coat. The +negro had heard the conversation, and drawn correct conclusions. +His new master was not rich. He could not afford to buy him, +and having bought him could not afford to keep him. There was +a sigh in the old man's heart, as he thought how useless he was, +but when he heard about the baby, his spirits arose at once. In +all the world there was nothing so precious to Sam as a child, +a little white child, with waxen hands to pat his old black face, +and his work was found. +</p> + +<p> +"Mas'r," he whispered, "Sam kin take keer that baby. He +knows how, and the little children in Georgy, whar I comed +from, used to be mighty fond of Sam. I'll tend to the young +lady, too. Is she yourn, mas'r?" +</p> + +<p> +'Lina laughed aloud, while Hugh replied: +</p> + +<p> +"She's mine while I take care of her." +</p> + +<p> +Then, turning to his sister, he asked if she procured what +she wanted. +</p> + +<p> +With a threatening frown at Lulu, who had seen and gone +into ecstasies over the rose silk, 'Lina answered that she was +fortunate enough to get just what she wanted, adding +quickly: +</p> + +<p> +"It's to be a much gayer affair than I supposed. They are +invited from Louisville, and even from Cincinnati, so Mr. Harney +says." +</p> + +<p> +"Harney, did you trade there?" Hugh asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes. It's the largest and best store in town. Why +shouldn't I?" 'Lina replied, while Sam, catching at the name, +put in: +</p> + +<p> +"Hartley's the man what foreclosed the mortgage. You orto +hear ole mas'r cuss him oncet. Sharp chap, dat Harney; mighty +hard on de blacks, folks say," and glad to have escaped from his +clutches, Sam turned again to his dozing reverie, which was +broken at last by Hugh's calling Claib, and bidding him show +Sam where he was to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +How long Hugh did sit up that night, and 'Lina, who wanted +so much to see once more just how her rose silk looked by lamplight, +thought he never would take her broad hints and leave. +He dreaded to go—dreaded to exchange that warm, pleasant +room for the cold, cheerless chamber above, where he knew no +fire would greet him, for he had told Claib not to make one, and +that was why he lingered as long below. But the ordeal must +be met, and just as the clock was striking eleven, he bade his +mother and sister good-night, whistling as he bounded up the +stairs, by way of keeping up his spirits. How dreary and dark +it looked in his room, as with a feeling akin to homesickness +Hugh set his candle down and glanced at the empty hearth. +</p> + +<p> +"After all, what does it matter?" he said. "I only have to +hurry and get in bed the sooner," and tossing one boot here +and another there, he was about to finish undressing when +suddenly he remembered the little Bible, and the passage read +last night. Would there be one for him to-night? He meant to +look and see, and all cold and shivery as he was, Hugh lifted the +lid of the trunk which held his treasure, and taking it out, +opened to the place where the silken curl was lying. There +was a great throb at his heart when he saw that the last coil +of the tress lay just over the words, "Whosoever shall give to +drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water in the +name of a disciple, verily, I say unto you, he shall in no wise +lose his reward." +</p> + +<p> +"It does seem as if this was meant to encourage me," Hugh +said, reading the passage twice. "I don't much believe, though, +I bought old Sam in the name of a disciple, though I do think +his telling me he prayed had a little to do with it. It's rather +pleasant to think there's two to pray for me now, Adah and +Sam. I wonder if it makes any difference with God that one +prayer is white and the other black? Golden Hair said it didn't +when we talked about the negroes," and shutting the Bible, +Hugh was about to put it up when something whispered of his +resolution to commence reading it through. +</p> + +<p> +"It's too confounded cold. I'll freeze to death, I tell you," +he said, as if arguing the point with some unseen presence. "Get +into bed and read it then, hey? It's growing late and my candle +is most burned out. The first chapter of Genesis is short, is it? +Won't take one over three minutes? Stick like a chestnut burr, +don't you," and as if the matter were decided, Hugh sprang into +bed, shivering as if about to take a cold plunge bath. How then +was he disappointed to find the sheets as nice and warm as Aunt +Chloe's warming pan of red-hot coals could make them. +</p> + +<p> +And so he fell away to sleep, dreaming that Golden Hair had +come back, and that he held her in his arms, just as he held the +Bible he had unconsciously taken from the pillow beneath his +head. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0011" id="h2HCH0011"></a> + CHAPTER XI +</h2> +<h3> + SAM AND ADAH +</h3> +<p> +It was Saturday night again, and Adah, with heavy eyes and +throbbing head, sat bending over the dazzling silk, which 'Lina +had coaxed her to make. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina could be very gracious when she chose, and as she saw +a way by which Adah might be useful to her, she chose to be so +now, and treated the unsuspecting girl so kindly, that Adah +promised to undertake the task, which proved a harder one than +she had anticipated. Anxious to gratify 'Lina, and keep what +she was doing a secret from Hugh, who came to the cottage +often, she was obliged to work early and late, bending over the +dress by the dim candlelight until her head seemed bursting +with pain, and rings of fire danced before her eyes. She never +would have succeeded but for Uncle Sam, who proved a most +efficient member of the household, fitting in every niche and +corner, until Aunt Eunice, with all her New England aversion +to negroes, wondered how she had ever lived without him. Particularly +did he attach himself to Willie, relieving Adah from +all care, and thus enabling her to devote every spare moment to +the party dress. +</p> + +<p> +"You'se workin' yourself to death," he said to her, as late on +Saturday night she sat bending to the tallow candle, her hair +brushed back from her forehead and a purplish glow upon her +cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"I know I'm working too hard," she said. "I'm very tired, +but Monday is the party. Oh, I am so hot and feverish," and, +as if even the slender chain of gold about her neck were a +burden, she undid the clasp, and laid upon the stand the locket +which had so interested Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally inquisitive Sam took it in his hand, and touching +the spring held it to the light, uttering an exclamation of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Dat's de bery one, and no mistake," he said, his old withered +face lighting up with eager joy. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is she, Sam?" Adah asked, forgetting her work in her +new interest. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Ellis. I done forgot de other name. Ellis they call +her way down thar whar Sam was sold, when dat man with the +big splot on his forerd like that is on your'n steal me away and +sell me in Virginny. Miss, ever hearn tell o' dat? We thinks +he's takin' a bee line for Canada, when fust we knows we's in +ole Virginny, and de villain not freein' us at all. He sell us. +Me he most give away, 'case I was so old, and the mas'r who +buy some like Mas'r Hugh, he pity, he sorry for ole shaky +nigger. Sam tell him on his knees how he comed from Kaintuck, +but Mas'r Sullivan say he bought 'em far, and that the right +mas'r sell 'em sneakin' like to save rasin' a furse, and he show +a bill of sale. They believe him spite of dis chile, and so Sam +'long to anodder mas'r." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but the lady, Miss Ellis. Where did you find her?" +Adah asked, and Sam replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I'se comin' to her d'rectly. Mas'r Fitzhugh live on big +plantation—big +house, too, with plenty company; and one day she +comed, with great trunk, a visitin' you know. She'd been to +school with Miss Mabel, Mas'r Fitzhugh's daughter." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sure it's the same?" Adah asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, miss, Sam sure, he 'members them curls—got a heap +of 'em; and that neck—oh, wear that neck berry low, so low, +so white, it make even ole Sam feel kinder, kinder, yes, Sam +feel very much that way." +</p> + +<p> +Adah could not repress a smile, but she was too much interested +to interrupt him, and he went on: +</p> + +<p> +"They all think heap of Miss Ellis, and I hear de blacks tellin' +how she berry rich, and comed from way off thar wher white +niggers live—Masser-something." +</p> + +<p> +"Massachusetts?" suggested Adah. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; that's the very mas'r, I 'member dat." +</p> + +<p> +"Was Ellis her first or last name?" Adah asked, and Sam +replied: +</p> + +<p> +"It was neider, 'twas her Christian name. I'se got mizzable +memory, and I disremembers her last name. The folks call her +Ellis, and the blacks Miss Ellis." +</p> + +<p> +"A queer name for a first one," Adah thought, while Sam +continued: +</p> + +<p> +"She jest like bright angel, in her white gownds and dem long +curls, and Sam like her so much. She promise to write to Mas'r +Browne and tell him whar I is. I didn't cry loud then—heart too +full. I cry whimperin' like, and she cry, too. Then she tell me +about God, and Sam listen, oh, listen so much, for that's what he +want to hear so long. Miss Nancy, in Kuntuck, be one of them +that reads her pra'rs o' Sundays, and ole mas'r one that hollers +'em. Sam liked that way best, seemed like gettin' along and +make de Lord hear, but it don't show Sam the way, and when +the ministers come in, he listen, but they that reads and them +that hollers only talk about High and Low—Jack and the Game, +or something, Sam disremembers so bad; got mizzable memory. +He only knows he not find the way, 'till Miss Ellis tells him of +Jesus, once a man and always God. It's very queer, but Sam +believe it, and then she sing, 'Come unto me.' You ever hear +it?" +</p> + +<p> +Adah nodded, and Sam went on. +</p> + +<p> +"But you never hear Miss Ellis sing it. Oh, so fine, the very +rafters hold their breff, and Sam find the way at last." +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Miss Ellis now?" Adah asked, and Sam replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Gone to Masser—what you say once. She gived me five +dollars and then ask what else. I look at her and say, 'Sam +wants a spear or two of yer shinin' hair,' and Miss Mabel takes +shears and cut a little curl. I'se got 'em now. I never spend +the money," and from an old leathern wallet Sam drew a bill +and a soft silken curl, which he laid across Adah's hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is like her hair," Adah said, gazing fondly upon +the tiny lock which was Sam's greatest earthly treasure; then, +returning it to him, she asked: "And where is that Sullivan?" +a chill creeping over her as she remembered how about four +years ago the man she called her guardian was absent for +some time, and came back to her with colored hair and +whiskers. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, he gone long before, nobody know whar. Sam b'lieves, +though, he hear they tryin' to cotch him, but disremembers, got +such mizzable memory." +</p> + +<p> +"You say he had a mark like mine?" Adah continued. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, berry much, but more so. Show plainer when he +cussin' mad, just as yours show more when you tired. Whar +you git dat?" and Sam bent down to inspect more closely Adah's +birthmark. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. I was born with it," and Adah half groaned +aloud at the sad memories which Sam's story had awakened +within her. +</p> + +<p> +She could scarcely doubt that Sullivan, the negro-stealer, and +Monroe, her guardian, were the same, but where was he now, +and why had he treated her so treacherously, when he had always +seemed so kind? +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Adah prays," the old man answered. "Won't she say +'Our Father' with Sam?" +</p> + +<p> +Surely Hugh's sleep was sweeter that night for the prayer +breathed by the lowly negro, and even the wild tumult in Adah's +heart was hushed by Sam's simple, childlike faith that God +would bring all right at last. +</p> + +<p> +Early on Monday afternoon 'Lina, taking advantage of Hugh's +absence, came over for her dress, finding much fault, and requiring +some of the work to be done twice ere it suited her. +Without a murmur Adah obeyed, but when the last stitch was +taken and the party dress was gone, her overtaxed frame gave +way, and Sam himself helped her to her bed, where she lay +moaning, with the blinding pain in her head, which increased +so fast that she scarcely saw the tempting little supper which +Aunt Eunice brought, asking her to eat. Of one thing, however, +she was conscious, and that of the dark form bending over her +pillow and whispering soothingly the passage which had once +brought Heaven to him, "Come unto me, come unto me, and I +will give you rest." +</p> + +<p> +The night had closed in dark and stormy, and the wintry +rain beat fiercely against the windows; but for this Sam did not +hesitate a moment when at midnight Aunt Eunice, alarmed at +Adah's rapidly increasing fever, asked if he could find his way +to Spring Bank. +</p> + +<p> +"In course," he could, and in a few moments the old, shriveled +form was out in the darkness, groping its way over fences, and +through the pitfalls, stumbling often, and losing his hat past +recovery, so that the snowy hair was dripping wet when at last +Spring Bank was reached and he stood upon the porch. +</p> + +<p> +In much alarm Hugh dressed himself and hastened to the +cottage. But Adah did not know him and only talked of dresses +and parties, and George, whom she begged to come back and +restore her good name. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0012" id="h2HCH0012"></a> + CHAPTER XII +</h2> +<h3> + WHAT FOLLOWED +</h3> +<p> +There was a bright light in the sitting-room, and through the +half-closed shutters Hugh caught glimpses of a blazing fire. +'Lina had evidently come home, and half wishing she had stayed +a little longer, Hugh entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +Poor 'Lina! The party had proved a most unsatisfactory +affair. She had not made the sensation she expected to make. +Harney had scarcely noticed her at all, having neither eyes nor +ears for any one save Ellen Tiffton, who surely must have told +that Hugh was not invited, for, in no other way could 'Lina +account for the remark she overheard touching her want of heart +in failing to resent a brother's insult. In the most unenviable of +moods, 'Lina left at a comparatively early hour. She bade Cæsar +drive carefully, as it was very dark, and the rain was almost +blinding, so rapidly it fell. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye-es, mis-s, Cæs—he—done been to party fore now. Git +'long dar, Sorrel," hiccoughed the negro, who, in Colonel Tiffton's +kitchen had indulged rather too freely to insure the safety +of his mistress. +</p> + +<p> +Still the horses knew the road, and kept it until they left the +main highway and turned into the fields. Even then they would +probably have made their way in safety, had not their drunken +driver persisted in turning them into a road which led directly +through the deepest part of the creek, swollen now by the melted +snow and the vast amount of rain which had fallen since the +sunsetting. Not knowing they were wrong, 'Lina did not dream +of danger until she heard Cæsar's cry of "Who'a dar, Sorrel. +Git up, Henry. Dat's nothin' but de creek," while a violent +lurch of the carriage sent her to the opposite side from where +she had been sitting. +</p> + +<p> +A few mad plunges, another wrench, which pitched 'Lina +headlong against the window, and the steep, shelving bank was +reached, but in endeavoring to climb it the carriage was upset, +and 'Lina found herself in pitchy darkness. Perfectly sobered +now, Cæsar extricated her as soon as possible. The carriage +was broken and there was no alternative save for 'Lina to walk +the remaining distance home. It was not far, for the scene of +the disaster was within sight of Spring Bank, but to 'Lina, +bedraggled with mud and wet to the skin, it seemed an interminable +distance, and her strength was giving out just as she +reached the friendly piazza, and called on her mother for help, +sobbing hysterically as she repeated her story, but dwelling most +upon her ruined dress. +</p> + +<p> +"What will Hugh say? It was not paid for, either. Oh, dear, +oh, dear, I most wish I was dead!" she moaned, as her mother +removed one by one the saturated garments. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of Hugh called forth her grief afresh, and forgetful +of her dishabille, she staggered toward him, and impulsively +winding her arms around his neck, sobbed out: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Hugh, Hugh! I've had such a doleful time. I've been +in the creek, the carriage is broken, the horses are lamed, Cæsar +is drunk, and—and—oh, Hugh, I've spoiled my dress!" +</p> + +<p> +Laughing merrily Hugh held her off at a little distance, likening +her to a mermaid fresh from the sea, and succeeding at last +in quieting her down until she could give a more concise account +of the catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind the dress," he said, good-humoredly, as she kept +recurring to that. "It isn't as if it were new. An old thing +is never so valuable." +</p> + +<p> +Alas, that 'Lina did not then confess the truth. Had she done +so he would have forgiven her freely, but she let the golden opportunity +pass, and so paved the way for much bitterness of +feeling in the future. +</p> + +<p> +During the gloomy weeks which followed, Hugh's heart and +hands were full, inclination tempting him to stay by the moaning +Adah, who knew the moment he was gone, and stern duty, +bidding him keep with delirious 'Lina, who, strange to say, was +always more quiet when he was near, taking readily from him +the medicine refused when offered by her mother. Day after +day, week after week, Hugh watched alternately at the bedsides, +and those who came to offer help felt their hearts glow with +admiration for the worn, haggard man, whose character they +had so mistaken, never dreaming what depths of patient, all-enduring +tenderness were hidden beneath his rough exterior. +Even Ellen Tiffton was softened, and forgetting the Ladies' Fair, +rode daily over to Spring Bank, ostensibly to inquire after 'Lina, +but really to speak a kindly word to Hugh, to whom she felt she +had done a wrong. How long those fevers ran, and Hugh began +to fear that 'Lina's never would abate, sorrowing much for the +harsh words which passed between them, wishing they had been +unsaid, for he would rather that none but pleasant memories +should be left to him of this, his only sister. But 'Lina did not +die, and as her disease had from the first assumed a far more +violent form than Adah's, so it was the first to yield, and +February found her convalescent. With Adah it was different. +But there came a change at last, a morning when she awoke +from a death-like stupor which had clouded her faculties so long, +as the attending physician said to Hugh that his services would +be needed but a little longer. Physicians' bills, together with +that of Harney's yet unpaid, for Harney, villain though he was, +would not present it when Hugh was full of trouble; but the +hour was coming when it must be settled, and Hugh at last +received a note, couched in courteous terms, but urging immediate +payment. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll see him to-day. I'll know the worst at once," he said, +and mounting Rocket, who never looked more beautiful than he +did that afternoon, he dashed down the Frankfort turnpike, and +was soon closeted with Harney. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0013" id="h2HCH0013"></a> + CHAPTER XIII +</h2> +<h3> + HOW HUGH PAID HIS DEBTS +</h3> +<p> +The perspiration was standing in great drops about Hugh's +quivering lips, and his face was white as ashes, as, near the close +of that interview, he hoarsely asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Do I understand you, sir, that Rocket will cancel this debt +and leave you my debtor for one hundred dollars?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that was my offer, and a most generous one, too, considering +how little horses are bringing," and Harney smiled +villainously as he thought within himself: "Easier to manage +than I supposed. I believe my soul I offered too much. I should +have made it an even thing." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh knew how long this plan had been premeditated, and +his blood boiled madly when he heard it suggested, as if that +moment had given it birth. Still he restrained himself, and +asked the question we have recorded, adding, after Harney's +reply: +</p> + +<p> +"And suppose I do not care to part with Rocket?" +</p> + +<p> +Harney winced a little, but answered carelessly: +</p> + +<p> +"Money, of course, is just as good. You know how long I've +waited. Few would have done as well." +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Hugh knew that, but Rocket was as dear to him as his +right eye, and he would almost as soon have plucked out the one +as sold the other. +</p> + +<p> +"I have not the money," he said, frankly, "and I cannot part +with Rocket. Is there nothing else? I'll give a mortgage on +Spring Bank." +</p> + +<p> +Harney did not care for a mortgage, but there was something +else, and the rascally face brightened, as, stepping back, while he +made the proposition, he faintly suggested "Lulu." He would +give a thousand dollars for her, and Hugh could keep his horse. +For a moment the two young men regarded each other intently, +Hugh's eyes flashing gleams of fire, and his whole face expressive +of the contempt he felt for the wretch who cowed at +last beneath the look, and turned away muttering that "he saw +nothing so very heinous in wishing to purchase a nigger wench." +</p> + +<p> +Then, changing his tone to one of defiance, he added: +</p> + +<p> +"Since you are not inclined to part with either of your pets, +you'll oblige me with the money, and before to-morrow night. +You understand me, I presume?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do," and bowing haughtily, Hugh passed through the open +door. +</p> + +<p> +In a kind of desperation he mounted Rocket, and dashed out +of town at a speed which made more than one look after him, +wondering what cause there was for his headlong haste. A few +miles from the city he slacked his speed, and dismounting by a +running brook, sat down to think. The price offered for Lulu +would set him free from every pressing debt, and leave a large +surplus, but not for a moment did he hesitate. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd lead her out and shoot her through the heart, before I'd +do that thing," he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then turning to the noble animal cropping the grass beside +him, he wound his arms around his neck, and tried to imagine +how it would seem to know the stall at home was empty, and +his beautiful Rocket gone. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could pawn him," he thought, just as the sound of +wheels was heard, and he saw old Colonel Tiffton driving down +the turnpike. +</p> + +<p> +Between the colonel and his daughter Ellen there had been a +conversation that very day touching the young man Hugh, in +whom Ellen now felt a growing interest. Seated in their handsome +parlor, with her little hands folded listlessly one above +the other, Ellen was listening, while her father told her mother. +</p> + +<p> +"He didn't see how that chap was ever to pay his debts. One +doctor twice a day for three months was enough to ruin anybody, +let alone having two," and the sometimes far-seeing old colonel +shook his head doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Father," and Ellen stole softly to his side, "if Mr. Worthington +wants money so badly, you'll lend it to him, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +Again a doubtful shake as the prudent colonel replied: "And +lose every red I lend, hey? That's the way a woman would do, +I s'pose, but I am too old for that. Now, if he could give good +security, I wouldn't mind, but what's he got, pray, that we +want?" +</p> + +<p> +Ellen's gray eyes scanned his face curiously a moment, and +then Ellen's rather pretty lips whispered in his ear: "He's got +Rocket, pa." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, so he has; but no power on earth could make him +part with that nag. I've always liked that boy, always liked +old John, but the plague knows what he did with his money." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll help Hugh?" and Ellen returned to the attack. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said the old man, "we'll see about this Hugh matter," +and the colonel left the house, and entered the buggy +which had been waiting to take him to Frankfort. +</p> + +<p> +"That's funny that I should run a-foul of him," he thought, +stopping suddenly as he caught sight of Hugh, and calling out +cheerily: "How d'ye, young man? That's a fine nag of yours. +My Nell is nigh about crazy for me to buy him. What'll you +take?" +</p> + +<p> +"What'll you give?" was Hugh's Yankee-like response, while +the colonel, struck by Hugh's peculiar manner, settled himself +back in his buggy and announced himself ready to trade. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh knew he could trust the colonel, and after a moment's +hesitation told of his embarrassments, and asked the loan of five +hundred dollars, offering Rocket as security, with the privilege +of redeeming him in a year. +</p> + +<p> +"You ask a steep sum," he said, "but I take it you are in a +tight spot and don't know what else to do. That girl in the +snow bank—I'll be hanged if that was ever made quite clear +to me." +</p> + +<p> +"It is to me, and that is sufficient," Hugh answered, while the +old colonel replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Good grit, Hugh. I like you for that. In short, I like you +for everything, and that's why I was sorry about that New York +lady. You see, it may stand in the way of your getting a wife +by and by, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall never marry," Hugh answered, thinking of the +Golden Haired. +</p> + +<p> +"No?" the colonel replied. "Well, there ain't many good +enough for you, that's a fact, and so I tell 'em when they get +to—get to—" +</p> + +<p> +Hugh looked up inquiringly, his face flashing as he guessed +at what they got. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me, there's ain't many girls good for anybody. I never +saw but one, except my Nell, that was worth a picayune, and +that was Alice Johnson." +</p> + +<p> +"Who? Who did you say?" And Hugh grew white as +marble. +</p> + +<p> +The colonel replied: "I said Alice Johnson, twentieth cousin +of mine—blast that fly!—lives in Massachusetts; splendid girl—hang +it all can't I hit him?—there, I've killed him." And the +colonel put up his whip, never dreaming of the effect that name +had produced on Hugh, whose heart gave one great throb of +hope, and then grew heavy and sad as he thought how impossible +it was that the Alice Johnson the colonel knew could be the +Golden Haired. +</p> + +<p> +"There are fifty by that name, no doubt," he said, "and if +there were not, she is dead." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh dared not question the colonel further, and was only +too glad when the latter said: "If I understand you, I can have +Rocket for five hundred dollars, provided I let you redeem him +within a year. Now that's equivalent to my lending you five +hundred dollars out and out. I see, but seeing it's you, I reckon +I'll have to do it. As luck will have it, I was going down to +Frankfort this very day to put some money in the bank, and if +you say so, we'll clinch the bargain at once," and the colonel +began to count the amount. +</p> + +<p> +Alice Johnson was forgotten in that moment when Hugh felt +as if his very life was dying out. Then chiding himself as weak, +he lifted up his head and said: "Rocket is yours." +</p> + +<p> +The words were like a sob; and the generous old man hesitated. +But Hugh was in earnest. His debts must be paid, and +that five hundred dollars would do it. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll bring him around to-morrow. Will that be time +enough?" he asked, as he rolled up the bills. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, oh, yes," the colonel replied, while Hugh continued: +"And, colonel, you'll—you'll be kind to Rocket. He's never +been struck a blow since he was broken to the saddle. He +wouldn't know what it meant." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, I see—Rarey's method. Now I never could make +that work. Have to lick 'em sometimes, but I'll remember +Rocket. Good-day," and gathering up his reins Colonel Tiffton +rode slowly away. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh rode back to Frankfort and dismounted at Harney's +door. +</p> + +<p> +In silence Harney received the money, gave his receipt, and +then watched Hugh as he rode again from town, muttering: "I +shall remember that he knocked me down, and some time I'll +repay it." +</p> + +<p> +It was dark when Hugh reached home, his flashing eyes indicating +the storm which burst forth the moment he entered the +room where 'Lina was sitting. In tones which made even her +tremble he accused her of her treachery, pouring forth such a +torrent of wrath that his mother urged him to stop, for her sake +if no other. She could always quiet Hugh, and he calmed down +at once, hurling but one more missile at his sister, and that in +the shape of Rocket, who, he said, was sold for her extravagance. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina was proud of Rocket, and the knowledge that he was +sold touched her far more than all Hugh's angry words. But +her tear a were of no avail; the deed was done, and on the morrow +Hugh, with an unflinching hand, led his idol from the stable +and rode rapidly across the fields, leading another horse which +was to bring him home. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning Lulu came running up the stairs, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +"He's done come home, Rocket has. He's at the kitchen +door." +</p> + +<p> +It was even as Lulu, said, for the homesick brute, suspecting +something wrong, had broken from his fastenings, and bursting +the stable door had come back to Spring Bank, his halter +dangling about his neck, and himself looking very defiant, as +if he were not again to be coaxed away. At sight of Hugh he +uttered a sound of joy, and bounding forward planted both +feet within the door ere Hugh had time to reach it. +</p> + +<p> +"Thar's the old colonel now," whispered Claib, just as the +colonel himself appeared to claim his runaway. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll take him home myself," he said to the old colonel, emerging +from his hiding place behind the leach, and bidding Claib +follow with another horse Hugh went a second time to Colonel +Tiffton's farm. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0014" id="h2HCH0014"></a> + CHAPTER XIV +</h2> +<h3> + MRS. JOHNSON'S LETTER +</h3> +<p> +The spring had passed away, and the warm June sun was +shining over Spring Bank, whose mistress and servants were +very lonely now, for Hugh was absent, and with him the light +of the house had departed. Business of his late uncle's had +taken him to New Orleans, where he might possibly remain all +the summer. 'Lina was glad, for since the fatal dress affair +there had been but little harmony between herself and her +brother. The tenderness awakened by her long illness seemed +to have been forgotten, and Hugh's manner toward her was cold +and irritating to the last degree, so that the young lady rejoiced +to be freed from his presence. +</p> + +<p> +"I do hope he'll stay all summer," she said one morning, when +speaking of him to her mother. "I think it's a heap nicer without +him, though dull enough at the best. I wish we could go +somewhere, some watering place I mean. There's the Tifftons, +just returned from New York, and I don't much believe they +can afford it more than we, for I heard their place was mortgaged, +or something. Oh, bother, to be so poor," and the +young lady gave a little angry jerk at the tags she was unbraiding. +</p> + +<p> +"Whar's ole miss's?" asked Claib, who had just returned +from Versailles. "Thar's a letter for you," and depositing it +upon the bureau, he left the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Whose writing is that?" 'Lina said, catching it up and examining +the postmark. "Shall I open it?" she called, and +ere her mother could reply, she had broken the seal, and held +in her hand the draft which made her the heiress of one thousand +dollars. +</p> + +<p> +Had the fabled godmother of Cinderella appeared to her suddenly, +she would scarcely have been more bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother," she screamed again, reading aloud the "'Pay to +the order of Adaline Worthington,' etc. Who is Alice Johnson? +What does she say? 'My dear Eliza, feeling that I have +not long to live—' What—dead, hey? Well, I'm sorry for +that, but, I must say, she did a very sensible thing at the last, +sending me a thousand dollars. We'll go somewhere now, won't +we?" and clutching fast the draft, the heartless girl yielded the +letter to her mother, who, burying her face in her hands, sobbed +bitterly as the past came back to her, when the Alice, now at +rest and herself were girls together. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina took up the letter her mother had dropped and read it +through. "Wants you to take her daughter, Alice. Is the +woman crazy? And her nurse, Densie, Densie Densmore. +Where have I heard that name before? Say, mother, let's talk +the matter over. Shall you let Alice come? Ten dollars a week, +they'll pay. Let me see. Five hundred and twenty dollars a +year. Whew! We are rich as Jews. Our ship is really coming +in," and 'Lina rang the bell and ordered Lulu to bring "a +lemonade with ice cut fine and a heap of sugar in it." +</p> + +<p> +By this time Mrs. Worthington was able to talk of a matter +which had apparently so delighted 'Lina. Her first remark, +however, was not very pleasant to the young lady: +</p> + +<p> +"I would willingly give Alice a home, but it's not for me to +say. Hugh alone can decide it." +</p> + +<p> +"You know he'll refuse," was 'Lina'a angry reply. "He hates +young ladies. So you may as well save your postage to New +Orleans, and write at once to Miss Johnson that she cannot come +on account of a boorish clown." +</p> + +<p> +"'Lina," feebly interposed Mrs. Worthington, "'Lina, we +must write to Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +"Mother, you shall not," and 'Lina spoke determinedly. "I'll +send an answer to this letter myself, this very day. I will not +suffer the chance to be thrown away. Hugh may swear a little +at first, but he'll get over it." +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh never swears," and Mrs. Worthington spoke up at +once. +</p> + +<p> +"He don't hey? Maybe you've forgotten when he came home +from Frankfort, that time he heard about my dress!" +</p> + +<p> +"I know he swore then; but he never has since, I'm sure, and +I think he is better, gentler, more refined than he used to be, +since—since—Adah came." +</p> + +<p> +A contemptuous "Pshaw!" came from 'Lina's lips. "Say," +she continued, "wouldn't you rather Adah were your child than +me? Then you'd be granny, you know." And a laugh came +from 'Lina's lips. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington did not reply; and 'Lina proceeded to +speak of Alice Johnson, asking for her family. Were they aristocratic? +Were they the F.F.V.'s of Boston? and so forth. +</p> + +<p> +"Now let us talk a little about the thousand dollars. What +shall I do with it?" 'Lina said, for already the money was beginning +to burn in her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Redeem Rocket with half of it," Mrs. Worthington said, +"and that will reconcile Hugh to Alice Johnson." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think I've taken leave of my senses?" 'Lina asked, +with unaffected surprise. "Buy Rocket for five hundred dollars! +Indeed, I shall do no such thing. If Hugh had not sworn so +awfully, I might; but I remember what he said too well to part +with half of my inheritance for him. I'm going to Saratoga, +and you are going, too. We'll have heaps of dresses, and—oh, +mother, won't it be grand! We'll take Lu for a waiting maid. +That will be sure to make a sensation at the North. I can +imagine just how old Deacon Tripp of Elwood, would open his +eyes when he heard 'Mrs. Square Worthington and darter' had +come back with a 'nigger.' It would furnish him with material +for half a dozen monthly concerts, and I'm not sure but he'd +try to run her off, if he had a chance. But Lu likes Hugh too +well ever to be coaxed away; so we're safe on that score. 'Mrs. +Worthington, daughter, and colored servant, Spring Bank, Kentucky.' +I can almost see that on the clerk's books at the United +States. Then I can manage to let it be known that I'm an +heiress, as I am. We needn't tell that it's only a thousand dollars, +most of which I have on my back, and maybe I'll come +home Adaline somebody else. There are always splendid matches +at Saratoga. We'll go North the middle of July, just three +weeks from now." +</p> + +<p> +'Lina had talked so fast that Mrs. Worthington had been +unable to put in a word; but it did not matter. 'Lina was +invulnerable to all she could say, and it was in vain that she +pleaded for Rocket, or reminded the ungrateful girl of the many +long, weary nights, when Hugh had sat by her bedside, holding +her feverish hands and bathing her aching head. This was very +kind and brotherly, 'Lina admitted; but she steeled her heart +against the still, small voice, which whispered to her: "Redeem +Rocket, and let Hugh find him here when he gets home." +</p> + +<p> +'Lina wrote to Alice Johnson herself that morning, went to +Frankfort that afternoon, to Versailles and Lexington the next +day, and on the morning of the third day after the receipt of +Mrs. Johnson's letter, Spring Bank presented the appearance of +one vast show-room, so full it was of silks and muslins and +tissues and flowers and ribbons and laces, while amid it all, in a +maze of perplexity as to what was required of her, or where first +to commence, Adah Hastings sat, a flush on her fair cheeks, +and a tear half dimming the luster of her eyes as thoughts of +Willie crying for mamma at home, and refusing to be comforted +even by old Sam came to her. +</p> + +<p> +When 'Lina first made known her request to Adah, to act +as her dressmaker, Aunt Eunice had objected, on the ground +of Adah's illness having been induced by overwork, but 'Lina +insisted so strenuously, promising not to task her too much, +and offering with an air of extreme generosity to pay three shillings +a day, that Adah had consented, for pretty baby Willie +wanted many little things which Hugh would never dream of, +and for which she could not ask him. Three shillings a day for +twelve days or more seemed like a fortune to Adah, and so she +tore herself away from Willie's clinging arms and went willingly +to labor for the capricious 'Lina, ten times more impatient and +capricious since she "had come into possession of property." +</p> + +<p> +Womanlike, the sight of 'Lina's dresses awoke in Adah a thrill +of delight, and she entered heartily into the matter without a +single feeling of envy. +</p> + +<p> +"I's goin', too. Did you know that?" Lulu said to her as +she sat bending over a cloud of lace and soft blue silk. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you want to go?" Adah asked, and Lulu replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Not much. Miss 'Lina will be so lofty. Jes' you listen and +hear her call me oncet. 'Ho Loo-loo, come quick,' jes' as if she +done nothin' all her life but order a nigger 'round. I knows +better. I knows how she done made her own bed, combed her +own ha'r, and like enough washed her own rags afore she comed +here. Yes, 'Loo-loo is coming,'" and the saucy wench darted +off to 'Lina screaming loudly for her. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Worthington," Adah said, timidly, as 'Lina came near, +"Lulu tells me she is going North with you. Why not take +me instead of her?" +</p> + +<p> +"You!" and 'Lina's black eyes flashed scornfully. "What in +the world could I do with you and that child, and what would +people think? Why, I'd rather have Lulu forty times. A negro +gives an<i>éclat</i>to one's position which a white servant cannot. +By the way, here is Miss Tiffton's square-necked bertha. She's +just got home from New York, and says they are all the fashion. +You are to cut me a pattern. There's a paper, the Louisville +<i>Journal</i>, I guess, but nobody reads it, now Hugh is gone," and +with a few more general directions, 'Lina hurried away leaving +Adah so hot, so disappointed, that the hot tears fell upon the +paper she took in her hand, the paper containing Anna Richards' +advertisement, intended solely for the poor girl sitting so +lonely and sad at Spring Bank that summer morning. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the doctor's predictions and consignment of that +girl to Georgia, or some warmer place, it had reached her at +last. She did not see it at first, so fast her tears fell, but just +as her scissors were raised to cut the pattern her eyes fell on the +spot headed, "A Curious Advertisement," and suspending her +operations for a moment, she read it through, a feeling rising in +her heart that it was surely an answer to her own advertisement, +sent forth months ago, with tearful prayers that it might +be successful. +</p> + +<p> +At the table she heard 'Lina say that Claib was going to town +that afternoon, and thinking within herself. "If a letter were +only ready, he could take it with him," she asked permission to +write a few lines. It would not take her long, she said, and she +could work the later to make it up. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina did not refuse, and in a few moments Adah penned a +note to A.E.R. +</p> + +<p> +"It's an answer to an advertisement for a governess or waiting +maid," she said, as 'Lina glanced carelessly at the superscription. +</p> + +<p> +"It will do no harm, or good either, I imagine," was 'Lina'a +reply, and placing the letter in her pocket, she was about returning +to her mother, when she spied Ellen Tiffton dismounting +at the gate. +</p> + +<p> +Ellen was delighted to see 'Lina, and 'Lina was delighted to +see Ellen, leading her at once into the work-room, where Adah +sat by the window, busy on the bertha, and looking up quietly +when Ellen entered, as if half expecting an introduction. But +'Lina did not deign to notice her, save in an aside to Ellen, +to whom she whispered softly: +</p> + +<p> +"That girl, Adah, you know." +</p> + +<p> +Reared in a country where the menials all were black, Ellen +knew no such marked distinction among the whites, and walked +directly up to Adah, whose face seemed to puzzle her. It was +the first time they had met, and Adah turned crimson beneath +the close scrutiny to which she was subjected. Noticing her +embarrassment, and wishing to relieve it, Ellen addressed to +her some trivial remark concerning her work, complimenting +her skill, asking some questions about Willie, whom she had +seen, and then leaving her for a girlish conversation with 'Lina, +to whom she related many particulars of her visit to New York. +Particularly was she pleased with a certain Dr. Richards, who +was described as the most elegant young man at the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +"There was something queer about him too," she said, in a +lower tone, and drawing nearer to 'Lina. "He seemed so absent-like, +as if there were something on his mind—some heart trouble, +you know; but that only made him more interesting; and such +an adventure as I had, too. Send her out of the room, please," +and nodding toward Adah, Ellen spoke beneath her breath. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina comprehended her meaning, and turning to Adah said +rather haughtily: +</p> + +<p> +"It's cool on the west end of the piazza. You may go and sit +there a while." +</p> + +<p> +With a heightened color at being thus addressed before a +stranger, Adah withdrew, and Ellen continued: +</p> + +<p> +"It's so strange. I found in the hall, near my door, a tiny +ambrotype of a young girl, who must have been very beautiful—such +splendid hair, soft brown eyes, and cheeks like carnation +pinks. I wondered much whose it was, for I knew the owner +must be sorry to lose it. Father suggested that we put a written +notice in the business office, and that very afternoon Dr. Richards +knocked at our door, saying the ambrotype was his. 'I +would not lose it for the world,' he said, 'as the original is dead,' +and he looked so sad that I pitied him so much; but I have +the strangest part yet to tell. You are sure she cannot hear?" +and walking to the open window, Ellen glanced down the long +piazza to where Adah's dress was visible. +</p> + +<p> +"I looked at the face so much that I never can forget it, particularly +the way the hair was worn, combed almost as low +upon the forehead as you wears yours, and just as that Mrs. +Hastings wears hers. I noticed it the moment I came in; and, +'Lina, Mrs. Hastings is the original of that ambrotype, I'm sure, +only the picture was younger, fresher-looking, than she. But +they are the same, I'm positive, and that's why I started so when +I first saw this Adah. Funny, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +'Lina knew just how positive Ellen was with regard to any +opinion she espoused, and presumed in her own mind that in +this point, as in many others, she was mistaken. Still she answered +that it was queer, though she could not understand what +Adah could possibly be to Dr. Richards. +</p> + +<p> +"Call her in for something and I'll manage to question her. +I'm so curious and so sure," Ellen said, while 'Lina called: +"Adah, Miss Tiffton wishes to see how my new blue muslin fits. +Come help me try it on." +</p> + +<p> +Obedient to the call Adah came, and was growing very red +in the face with trying to hook 'Lina's dress, when Ellen casually +remarked: +</p> + +<p> +"You lived in New York, I think?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, ma'am," was the reply, and Ellen continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe I saw some of your acquaintances. I was there a +long time." +</p> + +<p> +Oh, how eagerly Adah turned toward her now, the glad +thought flashing upon her that possibly she meant George. +Maybe he'd come home. +</p> + +<p> +"Whom did you see?" she asked, her eyes fixed wistfully on +Ellen, who replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, a great many. There was Mr. Reed, and Mr. Benedict, +and Mr. Ward, and—well, I saw the most of Dr. Richards, perhaps. +Do you know either of them?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I never heard of them before," was the reply, so frankly +spoken that Ellen was confounded, for she felt sure that Dr. +Richards was a name entirely new to Adah. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you were mistaken," 'Lina said, when the dress +was taken off and Adah gone. "A man such as you describe the +doctor would not care for a poor girl like Adah. Is his home +at New York, and are you sure he'll be at Saratoga?" +</p> + +<p> +"He said so; and I think he told me his mother and sisters +were in some such place as Snow-down, or Snow-something." +</p> + +<p> +"Snowdon," suggested 'Lina. "That's where Alice Johnson +lives. I must tell you of her." +</p> + +<p> +"Alice Johnson," Ellen repeated; "why, that's the girl father +says so much about. Of course I fell in the scale, for there was +nothing like Alice, Alice—so beautiful, so religious." +</p> + +<p> +"Religious!" and 'Lina laughed scornfully. "Adah pretends +to be religious, too, and so does Sam, while Alice will make +three. Pleasant prospects ahead. I wonder if she's the blue kind—thinks +dancing wicked, and all that." +</p> + +<p> +Ellen could not tell. She thought it queer that Mrs. Johnson +should send her to a stranger, as it were, when they would have +been so glad to receive her. "Pa won't like it a bit, and she'd +be so much more comfortable with us," and Ellen glanced contemptuously +around at the neat but plainly-furnished room. +</p> + +<p> +It was not the first time Ellen had offended by a similar remark, +and 'Lina flared up at once. Mrs. Johnson knew her +mother well, and knew to whom she was committing her +daughter. +</p> + +<p> +"Did she know Hugh, too?" hot-tempered Ellen asked, sneeringly, +whereupon there ensued a contest of words touching Hugh, +in which Rocket, the Ladies' Fair, and divers other matters +figured conspicuously, and when, ten minutes later, Ellen left +the house, she carried with her the square-necked bertha, together +with sundry other little articles of dress, which she had +lent for patterns, and the two were, on the whole, as angry as +a sandy-haired and black-eyed girl could be. +</p> + +<p> +"What a stupid I was to say such hateful things of Hugh, +when I really do like him," was Ellen's comment as she galloped +away, while 'Lina muttered: "I stood up for Hugh once, anyhow. +To think of her twitting me about our house, when everybody +says the colonel is likely to fail any day," and 'Lina ran off +upstairs to indulge in a fit of crying over what she called Nell +Tiffton's meanness. +</p> + +<p> +One week later and there came a letter from Alice herself, +saying that at present she was stopping in Boston with her +guardian, Mr. Liston, who had rented the cottage in Snowdon, +but that she would meet Mrs. Worthington and daughter at +Saratoga. Of course she did not now feel like mingling in gay +society and should consequently go to the Columbian, where she +could be comparatively quiet; but this need not in the least +interfere with their arrangements, as the United States was very +near, and they could see each other often. +</p> + +<p> +The same day also brought a letter from Hugh, making many +kind inquiries after them all, saying his business was turning +out better than he expected, and inclosing forty dollars, fifteen +of which, he said, was for Adah, and the rest for Ad, as a peace +offering for the harsh things he had said to her. Forty dollars +was just the price of a superb pearl bracelet in Lexington, and +if Hugh had only sent it all to her instead of a part to Adah! +The letter was torn in shreds, and 'Lina went to Lexington next +day in quest of the bracelet, which was pronounced beautiful by +the unsuspecting Adah, who never dreamed that her money had +helped to pay for it. Truly 'Lina was heaping up against herself +a dark catalogue of sin to be avenged some day, but the time +was not yet. +</p> + +<p> +Thus far everything went swimmingly. The dresses fitted +admirably, and nothing could exceed the care with which they +had been packed. Her mother no longer bothered her about +Hugh. Lulu was quite well posted with regard to her duty. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it was in the best of humors, that 'Lina tripped from +Spring Bank door one pleasant July morning, and was driven +with her mother and Lulu to Lexington, where they intended +taking the evening train for Cincinnati. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0015" id="h2HCH0015"></a> + CHAPTER XV +</h2> +<h3> + SARATOGA +</h3> +<p> +"Mrs. Worthington, daughter, and colored servant, Spring +Bank, Kentucky." +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. John Richards and mother, New York City." +</p> + +<p> +"Irving Stanley, Esq., Baltimore." +</p> + +<p> +These were the last entries the flaxen-haired clerk at Union +Hall had made, feeling sure, as he made them, that each one +had been first to the United States, and failing to find accommodations +there, had come down to Union Hall. +</p> + +<p> +The Union was so crowded that for the newcomers no rooms +were found except the small, uncomfortable ones far up in the +fourth story of the Ainsworth block, and thither, in not the +most amiable mood, 'Lina followed her trunks, and was followed +in turn by her mother and Lulu, the crowd whom they passed +deciphering the name upon the trunks and whispering to each +other: "From Spring Bank, Kentucky. Haughty-looking girl, +wasn't she?" +</p> + +<p> +From his little twelve by ten apartment, where the summer +sun was pouring in a perfect blaze of heat, Dr. Richards saw +them pass, and after wondering who they were, and hoping they +would be comfortable in their pen, gave them no further thought, +but sat jamming his penknife into the old worm-eaten table, and +thinking savage thoughts against that capricious lady, Fortune, +who had compelled him to come to Saratoga, where rich wives +were supposed to be had for the asking. In Dr. Richard's vest +pocket there lay at this very moment a delicate little note, the +meaning of which was that Alice Johnson declined the honor of +becoming his wife. Now he was ready for the first chance that +offered, provided that chance possessed a certain style, and was +tolerably good-looking. +</p> + +<p> +This, then, was Dr. Richards' errand to Saratoga, and one +cause of his disgust at being banished from the United States, +where heiresses were usually to be found in such abundance. +</p> + +<p> +From his pleasanter, airier apartment, on the other side of +the narrow hall, Irving Stanley looked out through his golden +glasses, pitying the poor ladies condemned to that slow roast. +</p> + +<p> +How hot, and dusty, and cross 'Lina was, and what a look of +dismay she cast around the room, with its two bedsteads, its +bureau, its table, its washstand, and its dozen pegs for her two +dozen dresses, to say nothing of her mother's. +</p> + +<p> +How tired and faint poor Mrs. Worthington was, sinking down +upon the high-post bed! How she wished she had stayed at +home, like a sensible woman, instead of coming here to be made +so uncomfortable in this hot room. But it could not now be +helped, 'Lina said; they must do the best they could; and with a +forlorn glance at the luxuriant patch of weeds, the most prominent +view from the window, 'Lina opened one of her trunks, and +spreading a part of its contents upon the bed, began to dress for +dinner. The dinner bell had long since ceased ringing, and the +tread of feet ceased in the halls below ere she descended to the +deserted parlor, followed by her mother, nervous and frightened +at the prospect of this, her first appearance at Saratoga. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, rouse yourself," 'Lina whispered, "and not let them +guess you were never at a watering place before," and 'Lina +thoughtfully smoothed her mother's cap by way of reassuring +her. +</p> + +<p> +But even 'Lina herself quailed when she reached the door and +caught a glimpse of the busy life within, the terrible ordeal she +must pass. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, for a pair of pantaloons to walk beside one, even if +Hugh were in them," she thought, as her own and her mother's +lonely condition arose before her. +</p> + +<p> +"Courage, mother," she whispered again, and then advanced +into the room, growing bolder at every step, for with one rapid +glance she had swept the hall, and felt that amid that bevy of +beauty and fashion there were few more showy than 'Lina +Worthington in her rustling dress of green, with Ellen Tiffton's +bracelet on one arm and the one bought with Adah's money on +the other. +</p> + +<p> +Not having been an heiress long enough to know just what +was expected of her, and fancying it quite in character to +domineer over every colored person just as she did over Lulu, +'Lina issued her commands with a dignity worthy of the firm +of Mrs. Worthington & Daughter. Bowing deferentially, the +polite attendant quickly drew back her chair, while she spread +out her flowing skirts to an extent which threatened to envelop +her mother, sinking meekly into her seat, not confused and +flurried. But alas for 'Lina. The servant did not calculate +the distance aright, and my lady, who had meant to do the thing +so gracefully, who had intended showing the people that she +had been to Saratoga before, suddenly found herself prostrate +upon the floor, the chair some way behind her, and the plate, +which, in her descent, she had grasped unconsciously, flying off +diagonally past her mother's head, and fortunately past the head +of her mother's left-hand neighbor. +</p> + +<p> +Poor 'Lina! How she wished she might never get up +again. +</p> + +<p> +At first, 'Lina thought nothing could keep her tears back, they +gathered so fast in her eyes, and her voice trembled so that she +could not answer the servant's question: +</p> + +<p> +"Soup, madam, soup?" +</p> + +<p> +But he of the white hand did it for her. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course she'll take soup," then in an aside, he said to her +gently: "Never mind, you are not the first lady who has been +served in that way. It's quite a common occurrence." +</p> + +<p> +There was something reassuring in his voice, and turning +toward him for the first time, 'Lina caught the gleam of the +golden glasses, and knew that her<i>vis-à -vis</i>upstairs was also her +right-hand neighbor. Who was he, and whom did he so strikingly +resemble? Suddenly it came to her. Saving the glasses, +he was very much like Hugh. No handsomer, not a whit, but +more accustomed to society, easier in his manners and more +gallant to ladies. Could it be Irving Stanley? she asked herself, +remembering now to have heard that he did resemble Hugh, and +also that he wore glasses. Yes, she was sure, and the red which +the doctor had pronounced "well put on," deepened on her +cheeks, until her whole face was crimson with mortification, that +such should have been her first introduction to the aristocratic +Irving. +</p> + +<p> +Kind and gentle as a woman, Irving Stanley was sometimes +laughed at by his own sex, as too gentle, too feminine in disposition; +but those who knew him best loved him most, and +loved him, too, just because he was not so stern, so harsh, so +overbearing as lords of creation are wont to be. +</p> + +<p> +Such was Irving Stanley, and 'Lina might well be thankful +that her lot was cast so near him. He did not talk to her at +the table further than a few commonplace remarks, but when, +after dinner was over, and his Havana smoked, he found her +sitting with her mother out in the grove, apart from everybody, +and knew instantly that they were there alone, he went to them +at once, and ere many minutes had elapsed discovered to his surprise +that they were his so-called cousins from Kentucky. Nothing +could exceed 'Lina's delight. He was there unfettered by +mother or sister or sweetheart, and of course would attach himself +exclusively to her. 'Lina was very happy, and more than +once her loud laugh rang out so loud that Irving, with all his +charity, had a faint suspicion that around his Kentucky cousin, +brilliant though she was, there might linger a species of coarseness, +not altogether agreeable to one of his refinement. Still he +sat chatting with her until the knowing dowagers, who year +after year watch such things at Saratoga, whispered behind +their fans of a flirtation between the elegant Mr. Stanley and +that dark, haughty-looking girl from Kentucky. +</p> + +<p> +"I never saw him so familiar with a stranger upon so short +an acquaintance," said fat Mrs. Buford. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that Irving Stanley, whom Lottie Gardner talks so much +about?" And Mrs. Richards leveled her glass again, for Irving +Stanley was not unknown to her by reputation. "She must be +somebody, John, or he would not notice her," and she spoke in +an aside, adding in a louder tone: "I wonder who she is? +There's their servant. I mean to question her," and as Lulu +came near, she said: "Girl, who do you belong to?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Longs to them," answered Lulu, jerking her head toward +'Lina and Mrs. Worthington. +</p> + +<p> +"Where do you live?" was the next query, and Lulu replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Spring Bank, Kentucky. Missus live in big house, 'most +as big as this;" then anxious to have the ordeal passed, and +fearful that she might not acquit herself satisfactorily to 'Lina, +who, without seeming to notice her, had drawn near enough to +hear, she added: "Miss 'Lina is an airey, a very large airey, +and has a heap of—of—" Lulu hardly knew what, but finally +in desperation added: "a heap of a'rs," and then fled away ere +another question could be asked her. +</p> + +<p> +"What did she say she was?" Mrs. Richards asked, and the +doctor replied: +</p> + +<p> +"She said an airey. She meant an heiress." +</p> + +<p> +Money, or the reputation of possessing money, is an all-powerful +charm, and in few places does it show its power more plainly +than at Saratoga, where it was soon known that the lady from +Spring Bank, with pearls in her hair, and pearl bracelets on her +arms, was heiress to immense wealth in Kentucky, how immense +nobody knew, and various were the estimates put upon it. +Among Mrs. Bufort's clique it was twenty thousand, farther +away in another hall it was fifty, while Mrs. Richards, ere +the supper hour arrived, had heard that it was at least a hundred +thousand dollars. How or where she heard it she hardly knew, +but she indorsed the statement as current, and at the tea table +that night was exceedingly gracious to 'Lina and her mother, +offering to divide a little private dish which she had ordered for +herself, and into which poor Mrs. Worthington inadvertently +dipped, never dreaming that it was not common property. +</p> + +<p> +"It was not of the slightest consequence, Mrs. Richards was +delighted to share it with her," and that was the way the conversation +commenced. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina knew now that the proud man whose lip had curled so +scornfully at dinner was Ellen's Dr. Richards, and Dr. Richards +knew that the girl who sat on the floor was 'Lina Worthington, +from Spring Bank, where Alice Johnson was going. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0016" id="h2HCH0016"></a> + CHAPTER XVI +</h2> +<h3> + THE COLUMBIAN +</h3> +<p> +It was very quiet at the Columbian, and the few gentlemen +seated upon the piazza seemed to be of a different stamp from +those at the more fashionable houses, as there were none of them +smoking, nor did they stare impertinently at the gayly-dressed +lady coming-up the steps, and inquiring of the clerk if Miss +Alice Johnson were there. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, she was, and her room was No. ——. Should he send the +lady's card? Miss Johnson had mostly kept her room. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina had brought no card, but she gave her name, and passed +on into the parlor, which afforded a striking contrast to the +beehive downtown. In a corner two or three were sitting; another +group occupied a window; while at the piano were two +more, an old and a young lady; the latter of whom was seated +upon the stool, and with her foot upon the soft pedal, was alternately +striking a few sweet, musical chords, and talking to her +companion, who seemed to be a little deaf. +</p> + +<p> +"This is Miss Johnson," and the waiter bowed toward the +musician, who, quick as thought, seized upon the truth, and +springing to Mrs. Worthington's side, exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"It's Mrs. Worthington, I know, my mother's early friend. +Why did you sit here so long without speaking to me? I am +Alice Johnson," and overcome with the emotions awakened by +the sight of her mother's early friend, Alice hid her face with +childlike confidence in Mrs. Worthington's bosom, and sobbed +for a moment bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +Then growing calm, she lifted up her head and smiling +through her tears said: +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me for this introduction. It is not often I give +way, for I know and am sure it was best and right that mother +should die. I am not rebellious now, but the sight of you +brought it back so vividly. You'll be my mother, won't you?" +and kissing the fat white hands involuntarily smoothing her +bright hair, the impulsive girl nestled closer to Mrs. Worthington, +looking up into her face with a confiding affection which +won a place for her at once in Mrs. Worthington's heart. +</p> + +<p> +"My darling," she said, winding her arm around her waist, +"as far as I can I will be to you a mother, and 'Lina shall be +your sister. This is 'Lina, dear," and she turned to 'Lina, who, +piqued at having been so long unnoticed, was frowning gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +But 'Lina never met a glance purer or more free from guile +than that which Alice gave her, and it disarmed her at once of +all jealousy, making her return the orphan's kisses with as much +apparent cordiality as they had been given. During this scene +the woman of the snowy hair and jet black eyes had stood +silently by, regarding 'Lina with that same curious expression +which had so annoyed the young lady, and from which she now +intuitively shrank. +</p> + +<p> +"My nurse, Densie Densmore," Alice said at last, adding in +an aside: "She is somewhat deaf and may not hear distinctly, +unless you speak quite loud. Poor old Densie," she continued, +as the latter bowed to her new acquaintances, and then seated +herself at a respectful distance. "She has been in our family +for a long time." Then changing the conversation, Alice made +many inquiries concerning Kentucky, startling them with the +announcement that she had that day received a letter from +Colonel Tiffton, who she believed was a friend of theirs, urging +her to spend a few weeks with him. "They heard from you what +were mother's plans for my future, and also that I was to meet +you here. They must be very thoughtful people, for they seem +to know that I cannot be very happy here." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment 'Lina and her mother looked aghast, and neither +knew what to say. 'Lina, as usual, was the first to rally and +calculate results. +</p> + +<p> +They were very intimate at Colonel Tiffton's. She and Ellen +were fast friends. It was very pleasant there, more so than at +Spring Bank; and all the objection she could see to Alice's going +was the fear lest she should become so much attached to Mosside, +the colonel's residence, as to be homesick at Spring Bank. +</p> + +<p> +"If she's going, I hope she'll go before Dr. Richards sees her, +though perhaps he knows her already—his mother lives in Snowdon," +'Lina thought, and rather abruptly she asked if Alice +knew Dr. Richards, who was staying at the Union. +</p> + +<p> +Alice blushed crimson as she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know him very well and his family, too. Are either +of his sisters with him?" +</p> + +<p> +"His mother is here," 'Lina replied, "and I like her so much. +She is very familiar and friendly; don't you think so?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice would not tell a lie, and she answered frankly: +</p> + +<p> +"She does not bear that name in Snowdon. They consider +her very haughty there. I think you must be a favorite." +</p> + +<p> +"Are they very aristocratic and wealthy?" 'Lina asked, and +Alice answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Aristocratic, not wealthy. They were very kind to me, and +the doctor's sister, Anna, is one of the sweetest ladies I ever +knew. She may possibly be here during the summer. She is an +invalid, and has been for years." +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Ellen Tiffton's story of the ambrotype flashed into +'Lina's mind. Alice might know something of it, and after a +little she asked if the doctor had not at one time been engaged. +</p> + +<p> +Alice did not know. It was very possible. Why did Miss +Worthington ask the question? +</p> + +<p> +'Lina did not stop to consider the propriety or impropriety +of making so free with a stranger, and unhesitatingly repeated +what Ellen Tiffton had told her of the ambrotype. This, of +course, compelled her to speak of Adah, who, she said, came to +them under very suspicious circumstances, and was cared for +by her eccentric brother, Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the look of entreaty visible on Mrs. Worthington's +face, 'Lina said: +</p> + +<p> +"To be candid with you, Miss Johnson, I'm afraid you won't +like Hugh. He has many good traits, but I am sorry to say +we have never succeeded in cultivating him one particle, so that +he is very rough and boorish in his manner, and will undoubtedly +strike you unfavorably. I may as well tell you this, as you will +probably hear it from Ellen Tiffton, and must know it when +you see him. He is not popular with the ladies; he hates them +all, he says. Mother, Loo-loo, come," and breaking off from her +very sisterly remarks concerning Hugh, 'Lina sprang up in +terror as a large beetle, attracted by the light, fastened itself +upon her hair. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington was the first to the rescue, while Lulu, who +had listened with flashing eye when Hugh was the subject of +remark, came laggardly, whispering slyly to Alice: +</p> + +<p> +"That's a lie she done tell you about Mas'r Hugh. He ain't +rough, nor bad, and we blacks would die for him any day." +</p> + +<p> +Alice was confounded at this flat contradiction between mistress +and servant, while a faint glimmer of the truth began to +dawn upon her. The "horn-bug" being disposed of, 'Lina became +quiet, and might, perhaps, have taken up Hugh again, but +for a timely interruption in the shape of Irving Stanley, who +had walked up to the Columbian, and seeing 'Lina and her +mother through the window, sauntered leisurely into the +parlor. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, Mr. Stanley," and 'Lina half arose from her chair, thus +intimating that he was to join them. "Miss Johnson, Mr. +Stanley," and 'Lina watched them closely. +</p> + +<p> +"You have positively been smitten by Miss Johnson's pretty +face," said 'Lina, laughing a little spitefully, as they parted at +the piazza, Irving to go after his accustomed glasses of water, +and 'Lina to seek out Dr. Richards in the parlor. "Yes, I +know you are smitten, and inasmuch as we are cousins, I shall +expect to see you at Spring Bank some day not far in the +future." +</p> + +<p> +"It is quite probable you will," was Irving's reply, as he +walked away, his head and heart full of Alice Johnson. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime "Mrs. Worthington, daughter and servant," had +entered the still crowded parlors, where Mrs. Richards sat fanning +herself industriously, and watching her John with motherly +interest as he sauntered from one group of ladies to another, +wondering what made Saratoga so dull, and where Miss Worthington +had gone. It is not to be supposed that Dr. Richards +cared a fig for Miss Worthington as Miss Worthington. It was +simply her immense figure he admired, and as, during the +evening he had heard on good authority that said figure was +made up mostly of cotton growing on some Southern field, the +exact locality of which his informant did not know, he had decided +that, of course, Miss 'Lina's fortune was over-estimated. +Such things always were, but still she must be wealthy. He +had no doubt of that, and he might as well devote himself to +her as to wait for some one else. Accordingly the moment he +spied her in the crowd he joined her, asking if they should not +take a little turn up and down the piazza." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait till I ask mamma's permission to stay up a little longer. +She always insists upon my keeping such early hours," was +'Lina's very filial and childlike reply, as she walked up to +mamma, not to ask permission, but to whisper rather peremptorily, +"Dr. Richards wishes me to walk with him, and as you +are tired, you may as well go to bed!" +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the doctor and 'Lina were walking up and down +the long piazza, chatting gayly, and attracting much attention +from 'Lina's loud manner of talking and laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"By the way, I've called on Miss Johnson, at the Columbian," +she said. "Beautiful, isn't she?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ra-ather pretty, some would think," and the doctor had an +uncomfortable consciousness of the refusal in his vest pocket. +</p> + +<p> +If Alice had told. But no, he knew her better than that. +He could trust her on that score, and so the dastardly coward +affected to sneer at what he called her primness, charging 'Lina +to be careful what she did, if she did not want a lecture, and +asking if there were any ragged children in Kentucky, as she +would not be happy unless she was running a Sunday school! +</p> + +<p> +"She can teach the negroes! Capital!" and 'Lina laughed +so loudly that Mrs. Richards joined them, laughing, too, at what +she did not know, only—Miss Worthington had such spirits; it +did one good; and she wished Anna was there to be enlivened. +</p> + +<p> +"Write to her, John, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +John mentally thought it doubtful. Anna and 'Lina would +never assimilate, and he would rather not have his pet sister's +opinion to combat until his own was fully made up. +</p> + +<p> +"Anna—oh, yes!" 'Lina exclaimed. "Miss Johnson spoke +of her as the sweetest lady she ever saw. I wish she would come. +I'm so anxious to see her. An invalid, I believe?" +</p> + +<p> +Yes, dear Anna was a sad invalid, and cared but little to go +from home, though if she could find a waiting maid, such as +she had been in quest of for the last six months she might +perhaps be persuaded. +</p> + +<p> +"A waiting maid," 'Lina repeated to herself, remembering the +forgotten letter in her dress pocket, wondering if it could be +Anna Richards, whose advertisement Adah had answered, and +if it were, congratulating herself upon her thoughtlessness in +forgetting it, as she would not for the world have Adah Hastings, +with her exact knowledge of Spring Bank, in Mrs. Richards' +family. It passed her mind that the very dress had been given +to Adah, who might find the letter yet. She only reflected that +the letter never was sent, and felt glad accordingly. Very +adroitly she set herself at work to ascertain if Anna Richards +and "A.E.R." were one and the same individual. +</p> + +<p> +If Anna wished for a waiting maid, she could certainly find +one, she should suppose. She might advertise. +</p> + +<p> +"She has," and the doctor began to laugh. "The most ridiculous +thing. I hardly remember the wording, but it has been +copied and recopied, for its wording, annoying Anna greatly, and +bringing to our doors so many unfortunate women in search of +places, that my poor little sister trembles now every time the bell +rings, thinking it some fresh answer to her advertisement." +</p> + +<p> +"I've seen it," and 'Lina very unconsciously laid her hand +on his arm. "It was copied and commented upon by Prentice, +and my sewing woman actually thought of answering it, thinking +the place would suit her. I told her it was preposterous +that 'A.E.R.' should want her with a child." +</p> + +<p> +"The very one to suit Anna," and the doctor laughed again. +"That was one of the requirements, or something. How was it, +mother? I think we must manage to get your sewing woman. +What is her name?" +</p> + +<p> +'Lina had trodden nearer dangerous ground than she meant +to do, and she veered off at once, replying to the doctor: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, she would not suit at all. She's too—I hardly know +what, unless I say, lifeless, or insipid. And then, I could not +spare my seamstress. She cuts nearly all my dresses." +</p> + +<p> +"She must be a treasure. I have noticed how admirably they +fitted," and old Mrs. Richards glanced again at the blue silk, +half wishing that Anna had just such a waiting maid, they +could all find her so useful. "If John succeeds, maybe Miss +Worthington will bring her North," was her mental conclusion, +and then, as it was growing rather late, she very thoughtfully +excused herself, saying, "It was time old people retired; young +ones, of course, could act at their own discretion. She would not +hurry them," and hoping to see more of Miss Worthington to-morrow, +she bowed good-night, and left the doctor alone with +'Lina. +</p> + +<p> +"In the name of the people, what are you sitting up for?" +was 'Lina's first remark when she went upstairs, followed by a +glowing account of what Dr. Richards had said, and the delightful +time she'd had. "Only play our cards well, and I'm sure +to go home the doctor's<i>fiancée</i>. Won't Ellen Tiffton stare when +I tell her, mother?" and 'Lina spoke in a low tone. "The doctor +thinks I'm very rich. So do all the people here. Lulu has told +that I'm an heiress; now don't you upset it all with your +squeamishness about the truth. Nobody will ask you how much +I'm worth, so you won't be compelled to a lie direct. Just keep +your tongue between your teeth, and leave the rest to me. Will +you?" +</p> + +<p> +There was, as usual, a feeble remonstrance, and then the weak +woman yielded so far as promising to keep silent was concerned. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the doctor sat in his own room nearby, thinking +of 'Lina Worthington, and wishing she were a little more refined. +</p> + +<p> +"Where does she get that coarseness?" he thought. "Not +from her mother, certainly. She seems very gentle and ladylike. +It must be from the Worthingtons," and the doctor wondered +where he had heard that name before, and why it affected him +rather unpleasantly, bringing with it memories of Lily. "Poor +Lily," he sighed mentally. "Your love would have made me a +better man if I had not cast it from me. Dear Lily, the mother +of my child," and a tear half trembled in his eyelashes, as he +tried to fancy that child; tried to hear the patter of the little +feet running to welcome him home, as they might have done had +he been true to Lily; tried to hear the baby voice calling him +"papa;" to feel the baby hands upon his face—his bearded face +where the great tears were standing now. "I did love Lily," he +murmured; "and had I known of the child I never could have +left her. Oh, Lily, my lost Lily, come back to me, come!" and +his arms were stretched out into empty space, as if he fain +would encircle again the girlish form he had so often held in +his embrace. +</p> + +<p> +It was very late ere Dr. Richards slept that night, and the +morning found him pale, haggard and nearly desperate. +Thoughts of Lily were gone, and in their place was a fixed +determination to follow on in the course he had marked out, +to find him a rich wife, to cast remorse to the winds, and be as +happy as he could. +</p> + +<p> +How anxious the doctor was to have Alice go; how fearful +lest she should not; and how relieved when asked by 'Lina one +night to go with her the next morning and see Miss Johnson +off. There were Mrs. Worthington and 'Lina, Dr. Richards and +Irving Stanley, and a dozen more admirers, who, dazzled with +Alice's beauty, were dancing attendance upon her to the latest +moment, but none looked so sorry as Irving Stanley, or said +good-by so unwillingly, and 'Lina, as she saw the wistful gaze +he sent after the receding train, playfully asked him if he did +not feel some like the half of a pair of scissors. +</p> + +<p> +The remark jarred painfully on Irving's finer feelings, while +the doctor, affecting to laugh and ejaculate "pretty good," +wished so much that his black-eyed lady were different in some +things. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0017" id="h2HCH0017"></a> + CHAPTER XVII +</h2> +<h3> + HUGH +</h3> +<p> +An unexpected turn in Hugh's affairs made it no longer necessary +for him to remain in the sultry climate of New Orleans, +and just one week from his mother's departure from Spring +Bank he reached it, expressing unbounded surprise when he +heard from Aunt Eunice where his mother had gone, and how +she had gone. +</p> + +<p> +"Fool and his money soon parted," Hugh said. "I can fancy +just the dash Ad is making. But who sent the money?" +</p> + +<p> +"A Mrs. Johnson, an old friend of your mother's," Aunt +Eunice replied, while Hugh looked up quickly, wondering why +the Johnsons should be so continually thrust upon him, when +the only Johnson for whom he cared was dead years ago. +</p> + +<p> +"And the young lady—what about her?" he asked, while Aunt +Eunice told him the little she knew, which was that Mrs. Johnson +wished her daughter to come to Spring Bank, but she did +not know what they had concluded upon. +</p> + +<p> +"That she should not come, of course," Hugh said. "They +had no right to give her a home without my consent, and I've +plenty of young ladies at Spring Bank now. Oh, it was such a +relief when I was gone to know that in all New Orleans there +was not a single hoop annoyed on my account. I had a glorious +time doing as I pleased." +</p> + +<p> +"And yet you've improved, seems to me," Aunt Eunice said. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I'll turn out a polished dandy by and by, who knows?" +Hugh answered, laughingly; then helping his aunt to mount the +horse which had brought her to Spring Bank, he returned to +the house, which seemed rather lonely, notwithstanding that +he had so often wished he could once more be alone, just as +he was before his mother came. +</p> + +<p> +On the whole, however, he enjoyed his freedom from restraint, +and very rapidly fell back into his old loose way of living, +bringing his dogs even into the parlor, and making it a repository +for both his hunting and fishing apparatus. +</p> + +<p> +"It's splendid to do as I'm mind to," he said, one hot August +morning, nearly three weeks after his mother's departure. +</p> + +<p> +"Hello, Mug, what do you want?" he asked, as a very bright-looking +little mulatto girl appeared in the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Claib done buyed you this yer," and the child handed him +the letter from his mother. +</p> + +<p> +The first of it was full of affection for her boy, and Hugh +felt his heart growing very tender as he read, but when he +reached the point where poor, timid Mrs. Worthington tried to +explain about Alice, making a wretched bungle, and showing +plainly how much she was swayed by 'Lina, it began to harden +at once. +</p> + +<p> +"What the plague!" he exclaimed as he read on. "Suppose +I remember having heard her speak of her old school friend, +Alice Morton? I don't remember any such thing. Her daughter's +name's Alice—Alice Johnson," and Hugh for an instant +turned white, so powerfully that name always affected him. +</p> + +<p> +"She is going to Colonel Tiffton's first, though they've all +got the typhoid fever, I hear, and that's no place for her. That +fever is terrible on Northerners—terrible on anybody. I'm +afraid of it myself, and I wish this horrid throbbing I've felt +for a few days would leave my head. It has a fever feel that I +don't like," and the young man pressed his hand against his +temples, trying to beat back the pain which so much annoyed +him. +</p> + +<p> +Just then Collonel Tiffton was announced, his face wearing an +anxious look, and his voice trembling as he told how sick +his Nell was, how sick they all were, and then spoke of Alice +Johnson. +</p> + +<p> +"She's the same girl I told you about the day I bought +Rocket; some little kin to me, and that makes it queer why her +mother should leave her to you. I knew she would not be happy +at Saratoga, and so we wrote for her to visit us. She is on +the road now, will be here day after to-morrow, and something +must be done. She can't come to us without great inconvenience +to ourselves and serious danger to her. Hugh, my boy, there's +no other way—she must come to Spring Bank," and the old +colonel laid his hand on that of Hugh, who looked at him +aghast, but made no immediate reply. +</p> + +<p> +"A pretty state of things, and a pretty place to bring a lady," +he muttered, glancing ruefully around the room and enumerating +the different articles he knew were out of place. "Fish +worms, fishhooks, fishlines, bootjack, boot-blacking, and rifle, +to say nothing of the dogs—and me!" +</p> + +<p> +The last was said in a tone as if the "me" were the most objectionable +part of the whole, as, indeed, Hugh thought it was. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder how I do look to persons wholly unprejudiced!" +Hugh said, and turning to Muggins he asked what she thought +of him. +</p> + +<p> +"I thinks you berry nice. I likes you berry much," the child +replied, and Hugh continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but how do I look, I mean? What do I look like, a +dandy or a scarecrow?" +</p> + +<p> +Muggins regarded him for a moment curiously, and then +replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I'se dunno what kind of thing that dandy is, but I 'members +dat yer scarecrow what Claib make out of mas'r's trouse's and +coat, an' put up in de cherry tree. I thinks da look like Mas'r +Hugh—yes, very much like!" +</p> + +<p> +Hugh laughed long and loud, pinching Mug's dusky cheek, +and bidding her run away. +</p> + +<p> +"Pretty good," he exclaimed, when he was left alone, "That's +Mug's opinion. Look like a scarecrow. I mean to see for myself," +and going into the sitting-room, where the largest mirror +was hung, he scanned curiously the figure which met his view, +even taking a smaller glass, and holding it so as to get a sight +of his back. "Tall, broad-shouldered, straight, well-built. My +form is well enough," he said. "It's the clothes that bother. I +mean to get some new ones. Then, as to my face," and Hugh +turned himself around, "I never thought of it before; but my +features are certainly regular, teeth can't be beaten, good brown +skin, such as a man should have, eyes to match, and a heap +of curly hair. I'll be hanged if I don't think I'm rather good-looking!" +and with his spirits proportionately raised, Hugh +whistled merrily as he went in quest of Aunt Chloe, to whom he +imparted the startling information that on the next day but one, +a young lady was coming to Spring Bank, and that, in the +meantime, the house must be cleaned from garret to cellar, and +everything put in order for the expected guest. +</p> + +<p> +With growing years, Aunt Chloe had become rather cross and +less inclined to work than formerly, frequently sighing for the +days when "Mas'r John didn't want no clarin' up, but kep' +things lyin' handy." With her hands on her fat hips she stood, +coolly regarding Hugh, who was evidently too much in earnest +to be opposed. Alice was coming, and the house must be put +in order. +</p> + +<p> +The cleaning and arranging was finished at last, and everything +within the house was as neat and orderly as Aunt Eunice +and Adah could make it, even Aunt Chloe acknowledging that +"things was tiptop," but said, "it was no use settin' 'em to +rights when Mas'r Hugh done onsot 'em so quick;" but Hugh +promised to do better. He would turn over a new leaf, so by +way of commencement, on the morning of Alice's expected +arrival he deliberately rolled up his towel and placed it under +his pillow instead of his nightshirt, which he hung conspicuously +over the washstand. His boots were put behind the fire-board, +his every day hat jammed into the bandbox where 'Lina +kept her winter bonnet, and then, satisfied that so far as his +room was concerned, everything was in order, he descended the +stairs and went into the garden to gather fresh flowers with +which still further to adorn Alice's room. Hugh was fond of +flowers, and two most beautiful bouquets were soon arranged +and placed in the vases brought from the parlor mantel, while +Muggins, who trotted beside him, watching his movements and +sometimes making suggestions, was told to see that they were +freshly watered, and not allowed to stand where the sun could +shine on them, as they might fade before Miss Johnson came. +</p> + +<p> +During the excitement of preparing for Alice, the pain in his +head had in a measure been forgotten, but it had come back +this morning with redoubled force, and the veins upon his forehead +looked almost like bursting with their pressure of feverish +blood. Hugh had never been sick in his life, and he did not +think it possible for him to be so now, so he tried hard to forget +the giddy, half blinding pain warning him of danger, and after +forcing himself to sip a little coffee in which he would indulge +this morning, he ordered Claib to bring out the covered buggy, +as he was going up to Lexington. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0018" id="h2HCH0018"></a> + CHAPTER XVIII +</h2> +<h3> + MEETING OF ALICE AND HUGH +</h3> +<p> +Could 'Lina have seen Hugh that morning as he emerged +from a fashionable tailor's shop, she would scarcely have recognized +him. The hour passed rapidly away, and its close found +Hugh waiting at the terminus of the Lexington and Cincinnati +Railroad. He did not have to wait there long ere a wreath of +smoke in the distance heralded the approach of the train, and +in a moment the broad platform was swarming with passengers, +conspicuous among whom were an old lady and a young, both +entire strangers, as was evinced by their anxiety to know where +to go. +</p> + +<p> +"There are ours," the young lady said, pointing to a huge +pile of trunks, distinctly marked "A.J.," as she held out her +checks in her ungloved hand. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh noticed the hand, saw that it was very small and white +and fat, but the face he could not see, and he looked in vain +for the magnificent hair about which even his mother had waxed +eloquent, and which was now put plainly back, so that not a +vestige of it was visible. Still Hugh felt sure that this was +Alice Johnson, so sure that when he had ascertained the hotel +where she would wait for the Frankfort train, he followed on, +and entering the back parlor, the door of which was partly +closed, sat down as if he, too, were a traveler, waiting for the +train. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, in the room adjoining, Alice, for it was she, divested +herself of her dusty wrappings, and taking out her combs +and brushes, began to arrange her hair, talking the while to +Densie, reclining on the sofa. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem that Alice's own luxuriant tresses suggested her +first remark, for she said to Densie: "That Miss Worthington +has beautiful hair, so black, so glossy, and so wavy, too. I wonder +she never curls it. It looks as if she might." +</p> + +<p> +Densie did not know. It had struck her as singular taste, +unless it were done to conceal a scar, or something of that kind. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not like that girl," she said, "and still she interested +me more than any person I ever met. I never went near her +without experiencing a strange sensation, neither could I keep +from watching her continually, although I knew as well as you +that it annoyed her, Alice," and Densie lowered her voice +almost to a whisper, "I cannot account for it, but I had queer +fancies about that girl. Try now and bring her distinctly to +your mind. Did you ever see any one whom she resembled; any +other eyes like hers?" and Densie's own fierce, wild orbs flashed +inquiringly upon Alice, who could not remember a face like +'Lina Worthington's. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not like her eyes much," she said; "they were too +intensely black, too much like coals of fire, when they flashed +angrily on that poor Lulu, who evidently was not well posted in +the duties of a waiting maid, auntie," and Alice's voice was +lowered, too. "If mother had not so decided, I should shrink +from being an inmate of Mrs. Washington's family. I like her +very much, but 'Lina—I am afraid I shall not get on with her:" +</p> + +<p> +"I know you won't. I honor your judgment," was Hugh's +mental comment, while Alice went on: +</p> + +<p> +"And what she told me of her brother was not calculated to +impress me favorably." +</p> + +<p> +Nervously Hugh's hands grasped each other, and he could +distinctly hear the beating of his heart as he leaned forward +so as not to lose a single word. +</p> + +<p> +"She seemed trying to prepare me for him by telling how +rough he was; how little he cared for etiquette; and how constantly +he mortified her with his uncouth manners." +</p> + +<p> +Alice did not hear the sigh of pain or see the mournful look +which stole over Hugh's face. She did not even suspect his +presence, and she went on to speak of Spring Bank, wondering +if Hugh would be there before his mother returned, half hoping +he would not, as she rather dreaded meeting him, although she +meant to like him if she could. +</p> + +<p> +Alice's long, bright hair, was arranged at last, and the soft +curls fell about her face, giving to it the same look it had worn +in childhood—the look which was graven on Hugh's heart, as +with a pencil of fire; the look he never had forgotten through all +the years which had come and gone since first it shone on him; +the look he had never hoped to see again, so sure was he that it +had long been quenched by the waters of Lake Erie. Alice's +face was turned fully toward him. Through the open window at +her back the August sunlight streamed, falling on her chestnut +hair, and tinging it with the yellow gleam which Hugh remembered +so well. For an instant the long lashes shaded the fair +round cheek, and then were uplifted, disclosing the eyes of lustrous +blue, which, seen but once, could never be mistaken, and +Hugh was not mistaken. One look of piercing scrutiny at the +face unconsciously confronting him, one mighty throb, which +seemed to bear away his very life, one rapid passage of his hand +before his eyes to sweep away the mist, if mist there were, and +then Hugh knew the grave had given up its dead, mourned for +so long as only he could mourn. She was not lost. Some friendly +hand had saved her; some arm had borne her to the shore. +</p> + +<p> +Golden Hair had come back to him, but, alas, prejudiced +against him. She hoped he might be gone. She would be happier +if he never crossed her path. "And I never, never will," +Hugh thought, as with one farewell glance at her dazzling +beauty, he staggered noiselessly from the room, and sought a +small outer court, whose locality he knew, and where he could +be alone to think. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Adaline," he murmured, "what made you so cruel to +me? I would not have served you so." +</p> + +<p> +There was a roll of wheels before the door, and Hugh knew +by the sound that it was the carriage for the cars. She was +going. They would never meet again, Hugh said, and she would +never know that the youth who saved her life was the same +for whose coming they would wait and watch in vain at Spring +Bank—the Hugh for whom his mother would weep a while; and +for whose dark fate even Ad might feel a little sorry. She was +not wholly depraved—she had some sisterly feeling, and his loss +would waken it to life. They would appreciate him after he +was gone, and the poor heart which had known so little love +throbbed joyfully, as Hugh thought of being loved at last even +by the selfish 'Lina. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Alice and Densie proceeded on their way to the +Big Spring station, where Colonel Tiffton was waiting for them, +according to his promise. There was a shadow in the colonel's +good-humored face, and a shadow in his heart. His idol, Nellie, +was very, very sick, while added to this was the terrible certainty +that he and he alone must pay that $10,000 note on which he had +foolishly put his name, because Harney had preferred it. He +was talking with Harney when the cars came up, and the villain, +while expressing regret that the colonel should be compelled +to pay so much for what he never received, had said, with +a relentless smile: "But it's not my fault, you know. I can't +afford to lose it." +</p> + +<p> +From that moment the colonel felt he was a ruined man, +but he would not allow himself to appear at all discomposed. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a while," he said; "do nothing till my Nell lives or +dies," and with a sigh as he thought how much dearer to him +was his youngest daughter than all the farms in Woodford, he +went forward to meet Alice, just appearing upon the platform. +</p> + +<p> +The colonel explained to Alice why she must go to Spring +Bank, adding, by way of consolation, that she would not be +quite as lonely now Hugh was at home. +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh at home!" and Alice shrank back in dismay, feeling +for a moment that she could not go there. +</p> + +<p> +But there was no alternative, and after a few tears, which, +she could not repress, she said, timidly: +</p> + +<p> +"What is this Hugh? What kind of a man, I mean?" +</p> + +<p> +She could not expect the colonel to say anything bad of him, +but she was not prepared for his frank response. +</p> + +<p> +"The likeliest chap in Kentucky. Nothing dandified about +him, to be sure. Wears his trouser legs in his boots as often as +any way, and don't stand about the very latest cut of his coat, +but he's got a heart bigger than an ox—yes, big as ten oxen! +I'd trust him with my life, and know it was just as safe as his +own. You'll like Hugh—Nell does." +</p> + +<p> +The colonel never dreamed of the comfort his words gave +Alice, or how they changed her feelings with regard to one +whom she had so dreaded to meet. +</p> + +<p> +"There 'tis; we're almost there," the colonel said at last, as +they turned off from the highway, and leaning forward Alice +caught sight of the roofs and dilapidated chimneys of Spring +Bank. "'Taint quite as fixey as Yankee houses, that's a fact, +but we that own niggers never do have things so smarted up," +the colonel said, guessing how the contrast must affect Alice, +who felt so desolate and homesick as she drew up in front of +what, for a time at least, was to be her home. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Hugh?" Alice asked. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Eunice would not say he had gone to Lexington for +the sake, perhaps, of seeing her, so she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"He went to town this morning, but he'll be back pretty soon. +He has done his best to make it pleasant for you, and I do +believe he doted on your coming after he got a little used to +thinking about it. You'll like Hugh when you get accustomed +to him. There, try to go to sleep," and kind Aunt Eunice +bustled from the room just as poor Densie, who had been entirely +overlooked, entered it, together with Aunt Chloe. The old +negress was evidently playing the hostess to Densie, for she was +talking quite loud, and all about "Mas'r Hugh." "Pity he +wasn't thar, 'twould seem so different; 'tain't de same house +without him. You'll like Mas'r Hugh," and she, too, glided +from the room. +</p> + +<p> +Was this the password at Spring Bank, "You'll like Mas'r +Hugh?" It would seem so, for when at last Hannah brought +up the waffles and tea, which Aunt Eunice had prepared, she set +down her tray, and after a few inquiries concerning Alice's head, +which was now aching sadly, she, too, launched forth into a +panegyric on Mas'r Hugh, ending, as the rest had done, "You'll +like Mas'r Hugh." +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0019" id="h2HCH0019"></a> + CHAPTER XIX +</h2> +<h3> + ALICE AND MUGGINS +</h3> +<p> +Had an angel appeared suddenly to the blacks at Spring Bank +they would not have been more surprised or delighted than they +were with Alice when she came down to breakfast, looking so +beautiful in her muslin wrapper, with a simple white blossom +and geranium leaf twined among her flowing curls, and an expression +of content upon her childish face, which said that she +had resolved to make the best of the place to which Providence +had so clearly led her for some wise purpose of his own. She +had arisen early and explored the premises in quest of the spots +of sunshine which she knew were there as well as elsewhere, and +she had found them, too, in the grand old elms and maples which +shaded the wooden building, in the clean, grassy lawn and the +running brook, in the well-kept garden of flowers, and in the +few choice volumes arranged in the old bookcase at one end +of the hall. Who reads those books, her favorites, every one of +them? Not 'Lina, most assuredly, for Alice's reminiscences of +her were not of the literary kind; nor yet Mrs. Worthington, +kind, gentle creature as she seemed to be. Who then but Hugh +could have pored over those pages? And Alice felt a thrill of +joy as she felt there was at least one bond of sympathy between +them. There was no Bible upon the shelves, no religious +book of any kind, if we except a work of infidel Tom Paine, at +sight of which Alice recoiled as from a viper. Could Hugh +believe in Tom Paine? She hoped not, and with a sigh she was +turning from the corner, when the patter of little naked feet +was heard upon the stairs, and a bright mulatto child, apparently +seven or eight years old, appeared, her face expressive of the +admiration with which she regarded Alice, who asked her name. +</p> + +<p> +Curtseying very low, the child replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I dunno, missus; I 'spec's I done lost 'em, 'case heap of a +while ago, 'fore you're born, I reckon, they call me Leshie, but +Mas'r Hugh done nickname me Muggins, and every folks do +that now. You know Mas'r Hugh? He done rared when he +read you's comin'; do this way with his boot, 'By George, Ad +will sell the old hut yet without 'sultin' me,'" and the little +darky's fist came down upon the window sill in apt imitation +of her master. +</p> + +<p> +A crimson flush overspread Alice's face as she wondered if it +were possible that the arrangements concerning her coming there +had been made without reference to Hugh's wishes. +</p> + +<p> +"It may be, he was away," she sighed; then feeling an intense +desire to know more, and being only a woman and mortal, she +said to Muggins walking around her in circles, with her fat +arms folded upon her bosom. "Your master did not know I +was coming till he returned from New Orleans and found his +mother's letter?" +</p> + +<p> +"Who tole you dat ar?" and Muggins' face was perfectly +comical in its bewilderment at what she deemed Alice's foreknowledge. +"But dat's so, dat is. I hear Aunt Chloe say so, +and how't was right mean in Miss 'Lina. I hate Miss 'Lina! +Phew-ew!" and Muggins' face screwed itself into a look of such +perfect disgust that Alice could not forbear laughing outright. +</p> + +<p> +"You should not hate any one, my child," she said, while +Muggins rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"I can't help it—none of us can; she's so—mean—and so—so—you +mustn't never tell, 'case Aunt Chloe get my rags if you +do—but she's so low-flung, Claib say. She hain't any bizzens +orderin' us around nuther, and I will hate her!" +</p> + +<p> +"But, Muggins, the Bible teaches us to love those who treat +us badly, who are mean, as you say." +</p> + +<p> +"Who's he?" and Muggins looked up quickly. "I never +hearn tell of him afore, or, yes I has. Thar's an old wared-out +book in Mas'r Hugh's chest, what he reads in every night, and +oncet when I axes him what was it, he say, 'It's a Bible, Mug.' +Dat's what he calls me for short; Mug!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well," Alice said, "be a good girl, Muggins. God will love +you if you do. Do you ever pray?" +</p> + +<p> +"More times I do, and more times when I'se sleepy I don't," +was Muggins' reply. +</p> + +<p> +Here was a spot where Alice might do good; this half-heathen, +but sprightly, African child needed her, and she began +already to get an inkling of her mission to Kentucky. She was +pleased with Muggins, and suffered the little dusky hands to +caress her curls as long as they pleased, while she questioned +her of the bookcase and its contents, whose was it, 'Lina's or +Hugh's? +</p> + +<p> +"Mas'r Hugh's, in course. Miss 'Lina can't read!" was Muggins' +reply, which Alice fully understood. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina was no reader, while Hugh was, it might be, and she +continued to speak of him. Did he read much, ever evenings +to his mother, or did 'Lina play often to them?" +</p> + +<p> +"More'n we wants, a heap!" and Muggins spoke scornfully. +"We can't bar them rang-tang-em-er-digs she thumps out. +Now, we likes Mas'r Hugh's the best—got good voice, sing Dixie, +oh, splendid! Mas'r Hugh loves flowers, too. Tend all them in +the garden." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he?" and Alice spoke with great animation, for she had +supposed that 'Lina's, or at least Mrs. Worthington's hands had +been there. +</p> + +<p> +But it was Hugh, all Hugh, and in spite of what Muggins had +said concerning his aversion to her coming there, she felt a +great desire to see him. She could understand in part why +he should be angry at not having been consulted, but he was +over that, she was sure from what Aunt Eunice said, and if he +were not, it behooved her to try her best to remove any wrong +impression he might have formed of her. "He shall like me," +she thought; "not as he must like that golden-haired maiden +whose existence this sprite of a negro has discovered, but as a +friend, or sister," and a softer light shone in Alice's blue eyes, +as she foresaw in fancy Hugh gradually coming to like her, to +be glad that she was there, and to miss her when she was gone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0020" id="h2HCH0020"></a> + CHAPTER XX +</h2> +<h3> + POOR HUGH +</h3> +<p> +Could Hugh have known the feelings with which Alice Johnson +already regarded him, and the opinion she had expressed +to Muggins, it would perhaps have stilled the fierce throbbings +of his heart, which sent the hot blood so swiftly through his +veins, and made him from the first delirious. They had found +him in the quiet court, just after the sunsetting, and his uncovered +head was already wet with the falling dew, and with +the profuse perspiration induced by his long, heavy sleep. They +could not arouse him to a distinct consciousness as to where he +was or what had happened. He only talked of Ad and the +Golden Haired, asking that they would take him anywhere, +where neither could ever see him again. He was well known at +the hotel, and measures were immediately taken for apprising +his family of the sudden illness, and for removing him to Spring +Bank as soon as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast was not yet over at Spring Bank, and Aunt Eunice +was just wondering what could have become of Hugh, when +from her position near the window she discovered a horseman +riding across the lawn at a rate which betokened some important +errand. Alice spied him, too, and the same thought flashed +over both herself and Aunt Eunice. "Something had befallen +Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +Alice was the first upon the piazza, where she stood waiting +till the rider came up, his horse covered with foam, and himself +flurried and excited. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you Miss Worthington?" he asked, doffing his soft hat, +and feeling a thrill of wonder at sight of her marvelous beauty. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Worthington is not at home," she said, going down +the steps and advancing closer to him, "but I can take your +message. Is anything the matter with Mr. Worthington?" +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Eunice had now joined her, and listened breathlessly +while the young man told of Hugh's illness, which threatened +to be the prevailing fever. +</p> + +<p> +"They were bringing him home," he said—"were now on the +way, and he had ridden in advance to prepare them for his +coming." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Eunice seemed literally stunned and wholly incapable +of action, while the negroes howled dismally for Mas'r Hugh, +who, Chloe said, was sure to die. +</p> + +<p> +"She'd felt it all along. She knew dem dogs hadn't howled +for nothing, nor them deathwatches ticked in the wall. Mas'r +Hugh was gwine to die, and all the blacks would be sold—down +the river, most likely, if Harney didn't get 'em," and crouching +by the kitchen fire old Chloe bewailed the calamity she knew +was about to befall them. +</p> + +<p> +Alice alone was calm and capable of action. A room must +be prepared, and somebody must direct, but to find the somebody +was a most difficult matter. Chloe couldn't, Hannah couldn't, +Aunt Eunice couldn't, and consequently it all devolved upon +herself. +</p> + +<p> +They carried Hugh to the room designated by Densie, and +into which he went very unwillingly. +</p> + +<p> +It was not his den, he said, drawing back with a bewildered +look; his was hot, and close, and dingy, while this was nice and +cool—a room such as women had—there must be a mistake, and +he begged of them to take him away. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, my poor boy. This is right; Miss Johnson said you +must come here just because it is cool and nice. You'll get well +so much faster," and Aunt Eunice's tears dropped on Hugh's +flushed face. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Johnson!" and the wild eyes looked up eagerly at her. +"Who is she? Oh, yes, I know, I know," and a moan came +from his lips as he whispered: "Does she know I've come? Does +it make her hate me worse to see me in such a plight? Ho, +Aunt Eunice, put your ear down close while I tell you something. +Ad said—you know Ad—she said I was—I was—I can't +tell you what she said for this buzzing in my head. Am I very +sick, Aunt Eunice?" and about the chin there was a quivering +motion, which betokened a ray of consciousness, as the brown +eyes scanned the kind, motherly face bending over him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Hugh, you are very sick," and Aunt Eunice's tears +dropped upon the face of her boy, so fearfully changed since +yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +He wiped them away himself, and looked inquiringly at her. +</p> + +<p> +"Am I so sick that it makes you cry? Is it the fever I've +got?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Hugh, the fever," and Aunt Eunice bowed her face +upon his burning hands. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he lay unconscious, then raising himself up, he +fixed his eyes piercingly upon her, and whispered, hoarsely: +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Eunice, I shall die! I have never been sick in my +life; and the fever goes hard with such. I shall surely die. It's +been days in coming on, and I thought to fight it off; I don't +want to die. I'm not prepared." +</p> + +<p> +He was growing terribly excited now, and Aunt Eunice hailed +the coming of the doctor with delight. Hugh knew him, offering +his pulse and putting out his tongue of his own accord. +The doctor counted the rapid pulse, numbering even then 130 +per minute, noted the rolling eyeballs and the dilation of the +pupils, felt the fierce throbbing of the swollen veins upon the +temple, and then gravely shook his head. Half conscious, half +delirious, Hugh watched him nervously, until the great fear at +his heart found utterance in words. +</p> + +<p> +"Must I die?" +</p> + +<p> +"We hope not. We'll do what we can to save you. Don't +think of dying, my boy," was the physician's reply, as he turned +to Aunt Eunice, and gave out the medicine, which must be most +carefully administered. +</p> + +<p> +Too much agitated to know just what he said, Aunt Eunice +listened, as one who heard not, noticing which, the doctor +said: +</p> + +<p> +"You are not the right one to take these directions. Is there +nobody here less nervous than yourself? Who was that young +lady standing by the door when I came in? The one in white, +I mean, with such a quantity of curls?" +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Johnson—our visitor. She can't do anything," Aunt +Eunice replied, trying to compose herself enough to know what +she was doing. +</p> + +<p> +But the doctor thought differently. Something of a physiognomist, +he had been struck with the expression of Alice's face, +and felt sure that she would be more efficient aid than Aunt +Eunice herself. "I'll speak to her," he said, stepping to the hall. +But Alice was gone. She had stood by the sickroom door long +enough to hear Hugh's impassioned words concerning his probable +death—long enough to hear him ask that she might pray +for him; and then she stole away to where no ear, save that of +God, could hear the earnest prayer that Hugh Worthington +might live—or that dying, there might be given him a space in +which to grasp the faith, without which the grave is dark indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, the Hugh for whom the prayer was made had +fallen into a heavy sleep, and Aunt Eunice noiselessly left the +room, meeting in the hall with Alice, who asked permission to +go in and sit by him at least until he awoke. Aunt Eunice +consented, and with noiseless footsteps Alice advanced into the +darkened room, and after standing still for a moment to assure +herself that Hugh was really sleeping, stole softly to his bedside +and bent down to look at him, starting quickly at the strong +resemblance to somebody seen before. Who was it? Where +was it? she asked herself, her brain a labyrinth of bewilderment +as she tried in vain to recall the time or place where a face like +this reposing upon the pillow before her had met her view. +Suddenly she remembered Irving Stanley, and that between +him and Hugh there was a relationship, and then she knew it +was the likeness to Irving Stanley, which she so plainly traced. +Alice hardly cared to acknowledge it, but as she looked at Hugh +she felt that his was really the handsomer, the more attractive +face of the two. It certainly was, as he lay there asleep, his +long eyelashes resting upon his flushed cheek, his dark hair +curling in soft rings about his high, white brow, his rich, brown +beard glistening with perspiration, and his lips slightly apart, +showing a row of even teeth. +</p> + +<p> +There were others than Alice praying for Hugh that summer +afternoon, for Muggins had gone from the brook to the cornfield, +startling Adah with the story of Hugh's sickness, and +then launching out into a glowing description of the new miss, +"with her white gown and curls as long as Rocket's tail." +</p> + +<p> +"She talked with God, too," she said, "like what you does, +Miss Adah. She axes Him to make Mas'r Hugh well, and He +will, won't He?" +</p> + +<p> +"I trust so," Adah answered, her own heart going silently +up to the Giver of life and health, asking, if it were possible, +that her noble friend might be spared. +</p> + +<p> +Old Sam, too, with streaming eyes, stole out to his bethel by +the spring, and prayed for the dear "Massah Hugh" lying so +still at Spring Bank, and insensible to all the prayers going up +in his behalf. +</p> + +<p> +How terrible that deathlike stupor was, and the physician, +when later in the afternoon he came again, shook his head +sadly. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd rather see him rave till it took ten men to hold him," he +said, feeling the wiry pulse, which was now beyond his count. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there nothing that will arouse him?" Alice asked, "no +name of one he loves more than another?" +</p> + +<p> +The doctor answered "no; love for womankind, save as he +feels it for his mother or his sister, is unknown to Hugh Worthington." +</p> + +<p> +Alice said softly, lest she should be heard: +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh, shall I call Golden Haired?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, oh, yes," and the heavy lids unclosed at once, while +the eyes, in which there was no ray of consciousness, looked +wistfully into the lustrous blue orbs above him. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you the Golden Haired?" and he laid his hand caressingly +over the shining tresses just within his reach. +</p> + +<p> +Alice was about to reply, when an exclamation from those +near the window, and the heavy tramp of horse's feet, arrested +her attention, and drew her also to the window, just as a most +beautiful gray, saddled but riderless, came dashing over the +gate, and tearing across the yard, until he stood panting at the +door. Rocket had come home for the first time since his master +had led him away! +</p> + +<p> +Hearing of Hugh's illness, the old colonel had ridden over +to inquire how he was, and fearing lest it might be difficult to +get Rocket away if once he stood in the familiar yard, he had +dismounted in the woods, and fastening him to a tree, walked +the remaining distance. But Rocket was not thus to be cheated. +Ever since turning into the well-remembered lane he had seemed +like a new creature, pricking up his ears, and, dancing and +curvetting daintily along, as he had been wont to do on public +occasions when Hugh was his rider instead of the fat colonel. +In this state of feeling it was quite natural that he should +resent being tied to a tree, and as if divining why it was done, +he broke his halter the moment the colonel was out of sight, +and went galloping through the woods like lightning, never for +an instant slackening his speed until he stood at Spring Bank +door, calling, as well as he could call, for Hugh, who heard +and recognized that call. +</p> + +<p> +Throwing his arms wildly over his head, he raised himself in +bed, and exclaimed joyfully: +</p> + +<p> +"That's he! that's Rocket! I knew he'd come. I've only +been waiting for him to start on that long journey. Ho! Aunt +Eunice! Pack my clothes. I'm going away, where I shan't +mortify Ad any more. Hurry up. Rocket is growing impatient. +Don't you hear him pawing the turf? I'm coming, my boy, +I'm coming!" and he attempted to leap upon the floor, but the +doctor's strong arm held him down, while Alice, whose voice +alone he heeded, strove to quiet him. +</p> + +<p> +"I wouldn't go away to-day," she said soothingly. "Some +other time will do as well, and Rocket can wait." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you stay with me?" Hugh asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'll stay," was Alice's reply. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad he's roused up," the doctor said, "though I don't +like the way his fever increases," and Alice knew by the expression +of his face that there was but little hope, determining +not to leave him during the night. +</p> + +<p> +Densie or Aunt Eunice might sleep on the lounge, she said, +but the care, the responsibility shall be hers. To this the doctor +willingly acceded, thinking that Hugh was safer with her than +any one else. Exchanging the white wrapper she had worn +through the day for one more suitable, Alice, after an hour's rest +in her own room, returned to Hugh, who had missed her sadly, +and who knew the moment she came back to him, even though +his eyes were closed, and he seemed to be half asleep. +</p> + +<p> +"Mas'r Hugh won't die," and Muuggins' faith came to the +rescue, throwing a ray of hope into the darkness. "Miss Alice +axed God to spar' him, and so did I; now He will, won't He, +miss?" and she turned to Adah, who, with Sam, had just come +up to Spring Bank, and hearing voices in the kitchen had +entered there first. "Say, Miss Adah, won't God cure Mas'r +Hugh—'ca'se I axed Him oncet?" +</p> + +<p> +"You must pray more than once, child; pray many, many +times," was Adah's reply; whereupon Mug looked aghast, for +the idea of praying a second time had never entered her brain. +</p> + +<p> +Still, if she must, why, she must, and she stole quietly from +the kitchen. But it was now too dark to go down in the woods +by the running brook, and remembering Alice had said that +God was everywhere, she first cast around her a timid glance, +as if fearful she should see Him, and then kneeling in the +grass, wet with the heavy night dew, the little negro girl prayed +again for Master Hugh, starting as she prayed at the sound +which met her ear, and which came from the spot where Rocket +still was standing by the block, waiting for his master. +</p> + +<p> +Claib had offered him food and offered him drink, but both +had been refused, and opening the stable door so that he could +go in whenever he chose, Claib had left him there alone, solitary +watcher of the night, waiting for poor Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the house, Mug stole upstairs to the door of the +sickroom, where Alice was now alone with Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +He was awake, and for an instant seemed to know her, for +he attempted to speak, but the rational words died on his lips, +and he only moaned, as if in distress. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" Alice said, bending over him. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you the Golden Haired?" he asked again, as her curls +swept his face. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is Golden Hair?" Alice asked, and instantly the great +tears gathered in Hugh's dark eyes as he replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't say who is she, but who was she. I've never told a +living being before. Golden Hair was a bright angel who crossed +my path one day, and then disappeared forever, leaving behind +the sweetest memory a mortal man ever possessed. She's dead, +Chestnut Locks," and he twined one of Alice's curls around his +finger. "It's weak for men to cry, but I have cried many a +night for her, when the clouds were crying, too, and I heard +against my window the rain which I knew was falling upon +her little grave." +</p> + +<p> +He was growing rather excited, and thinking he had talked +too much, Alice was trying to quiet him, when the door opened +softly and Adah herself came in. Bowing politely to Alice she +advanced to Hugh's bedside, and bending over him spoke his +name. He knew her, and turning to Alice said: "This is Adah; +you will like each other; you are much alike." +</p> + +<p> +For an instant the two young girls gazed at each other as if +trying to account for the familiar look each saw in the other's +face. Adah was the first to remember, and when at last Hugh +was asleep she unclasped from her neck the slender chain she +had worn so long, and passing the locket to Alice, asked if she +ever saw it before. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, oh, yes, it's I, it's mine, though not a very natural one. +I never knew where I lost it. Where did you find it?" and opening +the other side Alice looked to see if the lock of hair was +safe. +</p> + +<p> +Adah explained how it came into her possession, asking if +Alice remembered the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and I thought of you so often, never dreaming that we +should meet here as we have. You were so sick then, and I +pitied you so much. Your husband was gone, you said. Was +it long ere he came back?" +</p> + +<p> +"He never came back," and the great brown eyes filled with +tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Never came? Do you think him dead?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no! oh, no! He's—Oh, Miss Johnson, I'll tell you +some time. Nobody here knows but Hugh how I was deceived, +but I'll tell you. I can trust you," and Adah involuntarily laid +her head in Alice's lap, sobbing bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +In the hall without there was a shuffling step which Adah +knew was Sam's, and remembering the conversation once held +with him concerning that golden locket, whose original Sam was +positive he had seen, Alice waited curious for his entrance. +With hobbling steps the old man came in, scarcely noticing +either of them, so intent was he upon the figure lying so still +and helpless before him. +</p> + +<p> +"Massah Hugh, my poor, dear Massah Hugh," he cried, bending +over his young master. "I wish 'twas Sam had all de pain +an' all de aches you feels. I'd b'ar it willingly, massah, I would. +Dear massah, kin you hear Sam talkin' to you?" +</p> + +<p> +Sam had turned away from Hugh, and with his usual politeness +was about making his obeisance to Alice, when the words, +"Your servant, miss," were changed into a howl of joy, and +falling upon his knees, he clutched at Alice's dress, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +"Now de Lord be praised, I'se found her again. I'se found +Miss Ellis, I has, an' I feels like singin' 'Glory Hallelujah.' +Does ye know me, lady? Does you 'member shaky ole darky, +way down in Virginny? You teached him de way, an' he's +tried to walk dar ever sence. Say, does you know ole Sam?" +and the dim eyes looked eagerly into Alice's face. +</p> + +<p> +She did remember him, and for a moment seemed speechless +with surprise, then, stooping beside him, she took his shriveled +hand and pressed it between her own, asking how he came there, +and if Hugh had always been his master. +</p> + +<p> +"You 'splain, Miss Adah. You speaks de dictionary better +than Sam," the old man said, and thus appealed to, Adah told +what she knew of Sam's coming into Hugh's possession. +</p> + +<p> +"He buy me just for kindness, nothing else, for Sam ain't +wo'th a dime, but Massah Hugh so good. I prays for him every +night, and I asks God to bring you and him together. Miss +Ellis will like Massah Hugh much, so much, and Massah Hugh +like Miss Ellis. Oh, I'se happy chile to-night. I prays wid a +big heart, 'case I sees Miss Ellis again," and in his great joy +Sam kissed the hem of Alice's dress, crouching at her feet and +regarding her with a look almost idolatrous. +</p> + +<p> +They watched together that night, attending Hugh so +carefully that when the morning broke and the physician +came, he pronounced the symptoms so much better that +there was much hope, he said, if the faithful nursing were +continued. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0021" id="h2HCH0021"></a> + CHAPTER XXI +</h2> +<h3> + ALICE AND ADAH +</h3> +<p> +At Alice's request, Adah and Sam stayed altogether at Spring +Bank, but Alice was the ruling power—Alice, the one whom +Chloe and Claib consulted; one concerning the farm, and the +other concerning the kitchen—Alice, to whom Aunt Eunice +looked for counsel, and Densie for comfort—Alice, who remembered +all the doctor's directions, taking the entire charge of +Hugh's medicines herself—and Alice, who wrote to Mrs. Worthington, +apprising her of Hugh's serious illness. They hoped he +was not dangerous, she said, but he was very sick, and Mrs. +Worthington would do well to come at once. She did not mention +'Lina, but the idea never crossed her mind that a sister +could stay away from choice when a brother was so ill; and it +was with unfeigned surprise that she one morning saw Mrs. +Worthington and Lulu alighting at the gate, but no 'Lina with +them. +</p> + +<p> +"She was so happy at Saratoga," Mrs. Worthington said, +when a little over the first flurry of her arrival. "So happy, +too, with Mrs. Richards that she could not tear herself away, +unless her mother should find Hugh positively dangerous, in +which case she should, of course, come at once." +</p> + +<p> +This was the mother's charitable explanation, made with a +bitter sigh as she recalled 'Lina's heartless anger when the letter +was received, as if Hugh were to blame, as, indeed, 'Lina seemed +to think he was. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Alice, in her own room, was reading 'Lina's note, +containing a most glowing description of the delightful time she +was having at Saratoga, and how hard it would be to leave. +</p> + +<p> +"I know dear Hugh is in good hands," she wrote, "and it is +so pleasant here that I really do want to stay a little longer. +Pray write to me just how Hugh is, and if I must come home. +What a delightful lady that Mrs. Richards is—not one bit stiff +as I can see. I don't know what people mean to call her proud. +She has promised, if mamma will leave me here, to be my chaperon, +and it's possible we may visit New York together, so as +to be there when the prince arrives. Won't that be grand? She +talks so much of you that sometimes I'm really jealous. Perhaps +I may go to Terrace Hill before I return, but rather hope +not, it makes me fidgety to think of meeting the Misses Richards, +though, of course, I know I shall like them, particularly +Anna. Oh, I most forgot! Irving is here yet, and has a sister, +Mrs. Ellsworth, with him now. She is very elegant, and very +much admired. Tell Adah I heard Mrs. Ellsworth say she +wished she could find some young person as governess for her +little girl, and kind of companion for her. I did not speak of +Adah, but I thought of her, knowing she desired some such +situation. She might write to Mrs. Ellsworth here, but I'd +rather she should not refer to me as having known her. You see +Mrs. Ellsworth would directly inquire about her antecedents, +and to a stranger it would not sound well that she came to us +one stormy night with that child, whose father we know nothing +about, and if I told the truth, as I always try to do, I should +have to tell this. So it will be better for Adah not to know us, +even if she should come to Mrs. Ellsworth. You will understand +me, I am sure, and believe that I am actuated by the kindest +of motives. She can direct to Mrs. Julia Ellsworth, Union Hall, +Saratoga Springs. By the way, tell mother not to forget that +dress. She'll know what you mean. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Stanley seemed quite blue after you went away. I +should not be surprised to hear of his being at Spring Bank some +day. Isn't it funny that you had to go right there? Perhaps it's +as well for you that Hugh is sick. You will got a better impression. +<i>Au revoir</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Not a word was there in this letter of the doctor, but Alice +understood it all the same. He was the attraction which kept +the selfish girl from her brother's side. "May she be happy +with him, if, indeed, he has a right to win her," was Alice's +mental comment, shuddering as she recalled the time when she +was pleased with the handsome doctor, and silently thanking +God, who had saved her from much sorrow. Hearing Mrs. +Worthington in the hall, and remembering what 'Lina said +concerning the dress, she stepped to the door and delivered the +message, wondering that Mrs. Worthington should seem so confounded, +and stammer so, as she turned to Adah, just coming +up the stairs, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever done anything with that old muslin 'Lina +gave you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never till to-day," Adah replied; "when it occurred to me +that if this hot weather lasted, I might find it comfortable, provided +I could fix it, so I sent Mug for it, and she is ripping +the waist." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington was not a good dissembler, and her next +question was: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you find anything in the pocket?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my letter, written weeks ago. Your daughter must +have forgotten it. I intrusted it to her care the day Miss Tiffton +called." +</p> + +<p> +Adah was just thinking of speaking freely to Alice Johnson +concerning her future course, when Mrs. Worthington met her +in the upper hall. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll go to her now," she said, as Mrs. Worthington left her, +and knocking timidly at Alice's door, she asked permission to +enter. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, certainly, I have something to tell you," Alice said, +motioning her to a chair, and sitting down beside her. "Miss +Worthington sent me a note in which she speaks of you." +</p> + +<p> +"Of me?" and Adah colored slightly. "I did not know she +ever thought of me. Why did she not come with her mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is enjoying herself so much is the reason she gives, +though I fancy there is another more powerful one. Perhaps +the note will enlighten you," and Alice passed it to Adah, not +so much to show her how heartless 'Lina was, as to see if in +what she had said of the Richards family there was not something +which Adah would recognize. +</p> + +<p> +That look in Willie's face had almost grown to a certainty +with Alice, who saw Anna, or Asenath, or Eudora, and sometimes +John himself in every move of the little fellow. Silently +Adah read the note, her paled cheeks turning scarlet at what +'Lina had said of herself and Mrs. Ellsworth. The Richards +family were nothing to her. She only seized upon and treasured +up the words "with a child about whose father we know +nothing." Slowly the tears gathered in her eyes and finally fell +in torrents as Alice asked: +</p> + +<p> +"What made her cry?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Johnson," and Adah hid her face in Alice's lap, +"I'm thinking of George—of Willie's father. Will he never +come back, or the world know that I thought I was a lawful +wife? Yes, and I sometimes believe so now, or I should surely +go wild, Miss Johnson," and Adah lifted up her head, disclosing +a face which Alice scarcely recognized, for the strange expression +there. "Miss Johnson, if I knew that George deliberately +planned my ruin under the guise of a mock marriage, and then +when it suited him deserted me as a toy of which he was tired, +I should hate him!—hate him!" +</p> + +<p> +"I frighten you, Miss Johnson," she said, as she saw how +Alice shrank away from the dark eyes in which there was a +fierce, resentful gleam, unlike sweet Adah Hastings. "I used +to frighten myself when I saw in my eyes the demon which +whispered suicide." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Adah," said Alice, "you could not have dreamed that!" +</p> + +<p> +"I did," and Adah spoke sadly now. "It was kind in God +to save me, and I've tried to love Him better since; but there's +something savage in my nature, something I must have inherited +from one of my parents, and sometimes my heart, which +at first was full of love for George, goes out against him for his +base treachery." +</p> + +<p> +"And yet you love him still?" Alice said, as she smoothed +the beautiful brown hair. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose I do. A kind word from him would bring me +back, but will it ever be spoken? Shall we ever meet again?" +</p> + +<p> +"Where did he go?" Alice asked. +</p> + +<p> +"He went to Europe, so he said." +</p> + +<p> +There was a voluntary shudder as Alice recalled the time +when Dr. Richards came home from Europe, and she had been +flattered with his attentions. +</p> + +<p> +"I may be unjust to him," she thought, then to Adah she +said: "As you have told me your story in part, will you tell +me the whole?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no vindictiveness now in Adah's face, nothing save +a calm, gentle expression such as it was used to wear, and the +soft brown eyes drooped mournfully beneath the heavy lashes +as she told the story of her wrongs. +</p> + +<p> +"And Hugh?" Alice said. "Why did you come to him? +Had you known him before?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh was the other witness, bribed by my guardian to lend +himself a party to the deception! I never saw him till that +night; neither, I think, did George. My guardian planned the +whole." +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh Worthington is not the man I took him for," and +Alice spoke bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"You mistake him," she cried eagerly. "My guardian, Mr. +Monroe, was pleased with the young Kentuckian, and led him +easily. He coaxed him to drink a glass of wine, which Hugh says +must have been drugged, for it took away his power to act as +he would otherwise have done, and when in this condition he +consented to whatever Mr. Monroe proposed, keeping silent while +the horrid farce went on. But he has repented so bitterly, and +been so kind to me and Willie." +</p> + +<p> +"And your guardian," interrupted Alice, "is it not strange +that he should have acted so cruel a part?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that's the strangest part of all, and he was so kind +to me. I cannot understand it, or where he is, though I've +sometimes imagined he must be dead; or in prison," and Adah +thought of what Sam had said concerning Sullivan, the negro-stealer. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean; why should he be in prison?" Alice +asked, and Adah replied by telling her what Sam had said, and +the reason she had for thinking Sullivan and her guardian, +Monroe, one and the same. +</p> + +<p> +"I too am marked," and with a quick, nervous motion, she +touched the spot where the blue lines were faintly visible. "I +know not how I came by it, but it annoys me terribly. Mr. +Monroe knew how I felt about it, and the day before that marriage +he said to me: 'It will disappear with your children. +They will not be marked,' and Willie isn't." +</p> + +<p> +Just then Willie's voice was heard in the hall, and Alice +admitted him into the room. She kissed his rosy cheek, and +said to Adah: "Do you know I think he looks like Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," and Adah spoke sadly. "I know he does, and I am +sorry for Hugh's sake, as it must annoy him. Neither can I +account for it, for I am certainly nothing to Hugh. But there's +another look in Willie's face, his father's. Oh, Miss Johnson, +George was handsome." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you describe him, or will it be too painful?" Alice +asked, and Adah told how George Hastings looked, while Alice's +handy worked nervously together, for Adah was describing Dr. +Richards. +</p> + +<p> +"And you've never seen him since, nor guessed where his +proud mother lived?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never, and when only the wrong is remembered, I think I +never care to see or hear from him again. But the noble, self-denying +Hugh! I would almost die for him; I ask God every +day to bring him some good fortune at last. He will, I know +He will, and Hugh shall yet—" +</p> + +<p> +She stopped short, struck with an idea which had never before +entered her mind. Hugh and Alice! Oh, if that could be. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you look at me?" Alice asked, as Adah sat drinking +in the dazzling beauty which she wished might one day shine +for Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"I am thinking how beautiful you are, and wondering if you +ever loved any one; did you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not like you," Alice answered frankly. "When a little girl +of thirteen I owed my life to a youth with many characteristics +like Hugh Worthington. I liked him, and wanted so much to +find him, but could not. Then I grew to womanhood, and +another crossed my path, well skilled in finding every avenue +to a maiden's heart. I did not love him. I am glad that I did +not, for he was unworthy of my love; but I fancied him a while, +and my heart did ache a little when mother on her deathbed +talked to me against him. It was my money he wanted most, +and when he thought I had none, he left me, saying as I heard, +that I 'was a nice-ish kind of girl, rather good-looking, but +too blue for him.'" +</p> + +<p> +"And the other, the boy like Hugh, have you met him +again?" Adah asked, feeling a little disappointed, when Alice +replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Once, I am very sure." +</p> + +<p> +Alice heard the faint sigh, and hope died out for Hugh. Poor +Hugh! Alice was thinking of him, too, and said at last: "Was +Rocket sold to Colonel Tiffton for debt?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, for 'Lina's debts, contracted at Harney's. I've heard of +his boasting that Hugh should yet be compelled to see him +galloping down the pike upon his idol." +</p> + +<p> +"He never shall!" and Alice spoke under her breath, asking +further questions concerning the sale of Colonel Tiffton's house, +and now much Mosside was worth. +</p> + +<p> +Adah did not know. She was only posted with regard to +Rocket, who was pawned for five hundred dollars. "Once I +insanely hoped that I might help redeem him—that God would +find a work for me to do—and my heart was so happy for a +moment." +</p> + +<p> +"What did you think of doing?" Alice asked, glancing at +the delicate young girl, who looked so unaccustomed to toil of +any kind. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought to be a governess or waiting maid," and Adah's +lip began to quiver. Then she told how her letter had been carelessly +forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you remember the address?" and Alice waited curiously +for the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, 'A.E.R. Snowdon.' You came from Snowdon Miss +Johnson, and I've wanted so much to ask if you knew 'A.E.R.,' +but have never dared talk freely with you till to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Alice was confounded. Surely the leadings of Providence +were too plainly evident to be unnoticed. There was a reason +why Adah Hastings must go to Anna Richards, and Alice hastened +to reply: "'A.E.R.' is no less a person than Anna Richards +whose mother and brother are now at Saratoga." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I can't go there. They are too proud. They would hate +me for Willie, and ask me for his father." +</p> + +<p> +Very gently Alice talked to her of Snowdon and Anna Richards, +whom Adah was sure to like. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so glad for your sake that it has come around at last," +she said. "Will you write to her to-day, or shall I for you? +Perhaps I had better!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, I would rather go unannounced—rather Miss Anna +should like me for my self, if I go," and Adah's voice trembled, +for she shrank nervously from the thought of meeting the +Richards family. +</p> + +<p> +If 'Lina liked the old lady, she certainly could not, and the +very thought of these elder sisters, in all their primness, dismayed +and disheartened her. +</p> + +<p> +While this was passing through her mind, she sat twining +Willie's silken curls around her finger, and apparently listening +to what Alice was now saying of Dr. Richards; but Alice might +as well have talked to the winds for any impression she made. +Adah was looking far into the future, wondering what it had in +store for her, as if in Anna Richards she would indeed find the +sympathizing friend which Alice said she would. Gradually, as +she thought of Anna, her heart went out strangely toward her. +</p> + +<p> +"I will go to Miss Richards," she said at last; "but I cannot +go till Hugh is better, till he knows and approves. I must take +his blessing with me. Do you think it will be long before +he regains his reason?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice could not tell. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you correspond with Miss Richards?" Adah suddenly +asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No. I will send a note of introduction by you, though." +</p> + +<p> +"Please don't," and Adah spoke pleadingly. "I should have +to give it if you did, and I'd rather go by myself. I know it +would be better to have your influence, but it is a fancy of +mine not to say that I ever knew you or any one at Spring +Bank." +</p> + +<p> +Now it was settled that Adah should go, she felt a restless, +impatient desire to be gone, questioning the doctor closely with +regard to Hugh, who, it seemed to her, would never awaken from +the state of unconsciousness into which he had fallen, and from +which he only rallied for an instant, just long enough to recognize +his mother, but never Alice or herself, both of whom +watched over him day and night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0022" id="h2HCH0022"></a> + CHAPTER XXII +</h2> +<h3> + WAKING TO CONSCIOUSNESS +</h3> +<p> +The sultry August glided by, and in the warm, still days of +late September Hugh awoke from the sleep which had so long +hung over him. Raising himself upon his elbow, he glanced +around the room. There were the table, the stand, the mirror, +the curtains, the vases, and the flowers, but what—did he see +aright, or did his eyes deceive him? and the perspiration stood +thickly about his mouth, as in the bouquet, that morning arranged, +he recognized the gay flowers of autumn, not such as +he had gathered for Alice, delicate summer flowers, but rich and +gorgeous with a later bloom. +</p> + +<p> +"I must have been sick," he whispered, and pressing his hand +to his still throbbing head, he tried to reveal and form into some +definite shape the events which had seemed, and which seemed +to him still, like so many phantoms of the brain. +</p> + +<p> +Was it a dream—his mother's tears upon his face, his mother's +voice calling him her Hughey boy, his mother's sobs beside +him? Was it, could it be all a dream that she, the Golden +Haired, had been with him constantly? No that was not a +dream. She did not hate him, else she had not prayed, and +words of thanksgiving were going up to Golden Hair's God, +when a footstep in the hall announced the approach of some one. +Alice, perhaps, and Hugh lay very still, with half-shut eyes, +until Muggins, instead of Alice, appeared. +</p> + +<p> +He was asleep, she said, as, standing on tiptoe, she scanned +his face. He was asleep, and in her own dialect Muggins talked +to herself about him as he lay there so still. +</p> + +<p> +"Nice Mas'r Hugh—pretty Mas'r Hugh!" and Mug's little +black hand was laid caressingly on the face she admired so much. +"I mean to ask God about him, just like I see Miss Alice do," +she continued, and stealing to the opposite side of the room, +Muggins kneeled down, and with her face turned toward Hugh, +she said: "If God is hearin' me, will He please do all dat Miss +Alice ax him 'bout curin' Mas'r Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +This was too much for Hugh. The sight of that ignorant +negro child, kneeling by the window unmanned him entirely, and +hiding his head beneath the sheets, he sobbed aloud. With a +nervous start, Mug arose from her knees, and stood for an +instant gazing in terror at the trembling of the bedclothes. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll bet he's in a fit. I mean to screech for Miss Alice," and +Muggins was about darting away, when Hugh's long arm caught +and held her fast. "Oh, de gracious, Mas'r Hugh," she cried, +"you skeers me so. Does you know me, Mas'r Hugh?" and she +took a step toward him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know you, and I want to talk a little. Where am I, +Mug? What room, I mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Miss Alice's, in course. She 'sisted, and 'sisted, till +'em brung you in here, 'case she say it cool and nice. Oh, Miss +Alice so fine." +</p> + +<p> +"In Miss Johnson's room," and Hugh looked perfectly bewildered. +In the room he had taken so much pains to have in +order; it could not be; and he passed his hand up and down the +comfortable mattress, striking it once with his fist, to see if it +would sink in, and then, in a perplexed whisper, he asked: "This +is her room, you say; but, Mug, where are the two feather +beds?" +</p> + +<p> +In a most aggrieved tone, Mug explained how Miss Adah +and Aunt Eunice had spoiled their handiwork, but could not +talk long of anything without bringing in Miss Alice. +</p> + +<p> +"Where does Miss Alice pray for me?" he asked, and Muggins +replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh here, when she bese alone, and downstairs, and everywhere. +You wants to hear her?" +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Hugh did. +</p> + +<p> +"Mug," he said. "I am going to be crazy as a loon. I have +not been rational a bit, and you must not say I have. You +must not say anything. Do you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +Mug didn't at first, but after a little it came to her that +"Mas'r Hugh was goin' to play 'possum. That Miss Alice and +all dem would think him ravin' and only she would know the +truth." It would be rare sport for Mug, and after giving her +promise, she waited anxiously for some one to come. At last +another footstep sounded in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"That's her'n," Muggins whispered. "Is you crazy, Mas'r +Hugh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush-sh!" came warningly from Hugh, who, the next moment +had turned his head away from the fading light, and with +eyes closed, pretended to be asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Softly, on tiptoe as it were, Alice approached the bedside, +bending so low to see if he were sleeping that he felt her fragrant +breath, and a most delicious thrill ran through his frame, when +a little, soft, warm hand was laid upon his brow, where the veins +were throbbing wildly—so wildly that the unsuspecting maiden +wet the linen napkin used for such a purpose, and bathed the +feverish skin, pushing back, with a half-caressing motion, the +rings of damp, brown hair, and still the wicked Hugh never +moved, nor winked, nor gave the slightest token of the ecstatic +bliss he was enjoying. +</p> + +<p> +"What a consummate hypocrite I am, to lie here and let her +do what money could not tempt her to do, if she knew that I +was conscious, but hanged if I don't like it," was Hugh's mental +comment, while Alice's was: "Poor Hugh, the doctor said he +would probably be better when he waked from this sleep, better +or worse. Oh, what if he should die, and leave no sign of repentance," +and by the rustling movement, Hugh knew that Alice +Johnson was kneeling at his side, and with his hot hands in hers +was praying for him, that he might not die. +</p> + +<p> +"Spare him for his mother, he is her only boy," he heard her +say, and on the pillow, where his face was lying, the great tear +drops fell, as he thought how unworthy he was that she should +pray for him. +</p> + +<p> +He knew the pillow was wet, and shuddered when Alice attempted +to fix his head, turning it more to the light. She saw +the tear stains, and murmured to herself: "I did not think it +was so warm." Then, sitting down beside him, she fanned him +gently, occasionally feeling for his pulse to see if it were as +rapid as ever. Once, as she touched his wrist, his fingers closed +involuntarily around her little hand and held it a prisoner. He +could not help it; the temptation was too strong to be resisted, +and then he reflected that a crazy man was not responsible for +his actions! As rational Hugh, he could never hope to touch +that little soft hand trembling in his like a frightened bird, so +he would as crazy Hugh improve his opportunity; and he did, +holding fast the hand, and when she attempted to draw it away, +pressing it tighter and muttering: +</p> + +<p> +"No, no; mother, no." +</p> + +<p> +"He thinks I am you," Alice whispered, as Mrs. Worthington +came in, and Hugh's heart gave one great throb of filial love +when his mother stooped over him, and 'mid a shower of tears +kissed his forehead and lips, murmuring: +</p> + +<p> +"Darling boy, he'll never know how much his poor mother +loved him, or how her heart will break with missing him if +he dies." +</p> + +<p> +It was with the utmost difficulty that Hugh could restrain +himself then, from assuring his mother that the crisis was +passed and he was out of danger. +</p> + +<p> +"I've gone too far now, the hypocrite that I am," he thought. +"Alice Johnson never would forgive me. I can't retract now, +not yet; I'm in a pretty fix." +</p> + +<p> +As the twilight gathered in the room he lay, listening while +his mother and Alice talked together, some times of him, sometimes +of Colonel Tiffton, whose embarrassments were now generally +known, and again of 'Lina, who, he heard, had chosen +to remain at Saratoga, where she was enjoying herself so much +with dear Mrs. Richards. +</p> + +<p> +It was Alice who sat up that night, and Hugh, as he lay +watching her with half-closed eyes, as in her loose plain wrapper, +with her luxuriant curls, coiled in a large square knot at the +back of her head, she moved noiselessly around the room, felt a +pang of remorse at his own duplicity, one moment resolving to +give up the part he was playing and bid her leave him alone, +and seek the rest she needed. But the temptation to keep her +there was strong. He would be very quiet, he said to himself, +and he kept his word, remaining so still and apparently sleeping +so soundly, that Alice lay down upon the lounge on the opposite +side of the room, where she had lain many a night, but never +as now, with Hugh's eyes upon her, watching her so eagerly as +she fell away to sleep, her soft, regular, childlike breathing +awaking a thrill in Hugh's heart, and sending the blood in little, +tingling throbs through every vein. +</p> + +<p> +The drops and powders on the table remained undisturbed that +night, for the patient was too quiet, and the watcher was so +tired, that the latter never woke until the daylight was breaking, +and Adah came to relieve her. With a frightened start she +arose, astonished to find it was morning. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if he had suffered from my neglect?" she said, +stealing up to Hugh, who had schooled himself to meet her +gaze with wide, open eyes, which certainly had in them no +delirium, and which puzzled Alice somewhat, making her blush +and turn away. +</p> + +<p> +The old doctor, too, was puzzled, when, later in the morning, +he came in, feeling his patient's pulse, examining his tongue, +and pronouncing him decidedly out of danger. The fever had +left him, he said—the crisis was past—Hugh was a heap better, +and for his part he could not understand why the mind should +not also come clear, or what it was which made his hitherto +talkative subject so silent. He never had such a case—he didn't +believe his books had one on record; and the befogged old man +hurried home to see if, in all his musty volumes, unopened for +many a year, there was a parallel case to Hugh Worthington's. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0023" id="h2HCH0023"></a> + CHAPTER XXIII +</h2> +<h3> + 'LINA'S LETTER +</h3> +<p> +Wicked Hugh! How he did enjoy it, for days seeing the +family come in and out, talking as freely of him as if he were a +log of wood, and how perfectly happy he was when, one morning Alice +came in and sat by him, placing her tiny gold thimble upon +her delicate finger, and bending over her bit of dainty embroidery, +humming occasionally a sweet, mournful air, which +showed that her thoughts were wandering back to the cottage +by the river, where her mother lived and died. While she was +sitting there Mrs. Worthington joined her, and a moment after +a letter was brought in from 'Lina, containing on the corner, +"In haste." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington's eyesight had always been poor, and +latterly it was greatly impaired, making glasses indispensable. +Unfortunately, she had that very morning broken one of the +eyes, and consequently could not use them at all. +</p> + +<p> +"What is that?" she asked, pointing out the words, "In +haste," to Alice, who explained what it was, while Mrs. Worthington, +fearing lest something had befallen her daughter, could +scarcely tear open the envelope. Then, when it was open, she +could not read it, for 'Lina's writing was never very plain, and +passing it to Alice, she said, entreatingly: +</p> + +<p> +"Please read it for me. There is no secret, I presume." +</p> + +<p> +Glancing at Hugh, who had purposely turned his face to the +wall, Alice commenced as follows: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p class="noindent"> +"<span class="smcaps">Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York,<br/> +October, 1860.</span>" +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="smcaps">Dear Mother</span>: What a little eternity it is since I heard from +you, and how am I to know that you are not all dead and buried. +Were it not that no news is good news, I should sometimes fancy +that Hugh was worse, and feel terribly for not having gone home +when you did. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, then, to business, and firstly, as Parson Brown, of +Elm wood, used to say, I want Hugh to send me some money, +or all is lost. Tell him he must either beg, borrow, pawn or +steal, for the rhino I must have. Let me explain. +</p> + +<p> +"Here I am at Fifth Avenue Hotel, as good as any lady, if +my purse is almost empty. Plague on it, why didn't that Mrs. +Johnson send me two thousand instead of one? It would not +hurt her, and them I should get through nicely." +</p></div> +<p> +"Oh, I ought not to read this—I cannot," and Alice threw +the letter from her, and hurried from the room. +</p> + +<p> +"The way of the transgressor is hard," groaned Hugh, and +the groan caught the ear of his mother. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, Hugh?" she asked, coming quickly to his side. +"Are you worse? Do you want anything?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I'm better, I reckon—the cobwebs are gone. I am myself +again. What have you here?" and Hugh grasped the closely +written sheet. +</p> + +<p> +In her delight at having her son restored to his reason so suddenly, +so unexpectedly, as the poor, deluded woman believed, +Mrs. Worthington forgot for a moment the pain, and clasped +her arms about him, sobbing like a child. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my boy, I am so glad, so glad!" and her tears dropped +fast, as like a weary child, which wanted to be soothed, she laid +her head upon his bosom, crying quietly. +</p> + +<p> +And Hugh, stronger now than she, held the poor, tired head +there, and kissed the white forehead, where there were more +wrinkles now than when he last observed it. His mother was +growing old with care rather than with years, and Hugh shuddered, +as, for the first time in his life, he thought how dreadful +it would be to have no mother. Folding his weak arms about +her, mother and son wept together in that moment of perfect +understanding and union with each other. Hugh was the first +to rally. It seemed so pleasant to lean on him, to know that +he cared so much for her, that Mrs. Worthington would gladly +have rested on his bosom longer, but Hugh was anxious to know +the worst, and brought her back to something of the old, sad +life, by asking if the letter were from 'Lina. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; I can't make it out, for one of my glasses is broken, +and you know she writes so blind." +</p> + +<p> +"It never troubles me," and taking the letter from her unresisting +hand, Hugh asked that another pillow should be placed +beneath his head, while he read it aloud. +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"You see that thousand is almost gone, and as board is two +and a half dollars per day, I can't stay long and shop in Broadway +with old Mrs. Richards, as I am expected to do in my +capacity of heiress. I tell you, Spring Bank, Kentucky—crazy +old rat trap as it is, has done wonders for me in the way of +getting me noticed. If I had any soul, big enough to find with a +microscope, I believe I should hate the North for cringing so +to anything from Dixie. Let the veriest vagabond in all the +South, so ignorant that he can scarcely spell baker correctly, to +say nothing of biscuit, let him, I say, come to any one of the +New York hotels, and with something of a swell write himself +from Charleston, or any other Southern city, and bless me, what +deference is paid to my lord! +</p> + +<p> +"You see I am a pure Southern woman here; nobody but +Mrs. Richards knows that I was born, mercy knows where. But +for you, she never need have known it either, but you must tell +that we had not always lived in Kentucky. +</p> + +<p> +"But to do Mrs. Richards justice, she never alludes to my +birth. She takes it for granted that I moved, like Douglas, +when I was very young, and you ought to hear her introduce me +to some of her aristocratic friends. 'Mrs. So and So, Miss +Worthington, from Spring Bank, Kentucky,' then in an aside, +which I am not supposed to hear, she adds, 'A great heiress, of +a very respectable family. You may have heard of them.' Somehow, +this always makes me uncomfortable, as it brings up certain +cogitations touching that scamp you were silly enough to +marry, thereby giving me to the world, which my delectable +brother no doubt thinks would have been better off without me. +How is Hugh? And how is that Hastings woman? Are you +both as much in love with her as ever? Well, so be it. I do +not know as she ever harmed me, and she did fit my dresses +beautifully. Even Mrs. Richards, who is a judge of such things, +says they display so much taste, attributing it, of course, to my +own directions. I am so glad now that I forgot to send her +letter, as I would not for the world have Adah in the Richards' +family. It would ruin my prospects for becoming Mrs. Dr. +Richards sure, and allow me to say they are not inconsiderable." +</p></div> +<p> +"What does she mean? What letter? Who is Dr. Richards?" +Hugh asked, his face a purplish red, and contrasting +strikingly with the one of ashen hue still resting on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington explained as well as she could, and Hugh +went on: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"Old Mrs. Richards would, of course, question Adah, and as +Adah has some foolish scruples about the truth, she would be +very apt to let the cat out of the bag. +</p> + +<p> +"We left Saratoga a week ago—old lady Richards wanted +to go to Terrace Hill a while and show me to Anna, who, it +seems, is a kind of family oracle. After counting the little +gold eagles in my purse, I said perhaps I'd go for a few days, +though I dreaded it terribly, for the doctor had not yet bound +himself fast, and I did not know what the result of those three +old maid sisters, sitting on me, would be. Old lady was quite +happy in prospect of going home, when one day a letter came +from Anna. I happened to have a headache, and was lying on +madam's bed, when the dinner bell happened to ring. I just +peeped into the letter, feeling like stealing sheep, but being +amply rewarded by the insight I obtained into the family secrets. +</p> + +<p> +"They are poorer than I supposed, but that does not matter, +position is what I want, and that they can give me. Anna, it +seems, has an income of her own, and, generous soul that she is, +gives it out to her mother. She sent fifty dollars in the letter, +and in referring to it, said, 'Much as I might enjoy it, dear +mother, I cannot afford to come where you are, I can pay your +bills for some time longer, if you really think the water a benefit, +but my presence would just double the expense. Then, if brother +does marry, I wish to surprise him with a handsome set of pearls +for his bride, and I am economizing to do so.'" (Note by +'Lina)—"Isn't +she a clever old soul? Don't she deserve a better sister-in-law +than I shall make, and won't I find the way to her purse +often?" +</p></div> +<p> +Hugh groaned aloud, and the letter dropped from his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother," he gasped, "it must not be. 'Lina shall not thrust +herself upon them. This Anna shall not be so cruelly deceived. +I don't care a picayune for the doctor or the old lady. They +are much like 'Lina, I reckon, but this Anna awakens my +sympathy. I mean to warn her." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh read on, feeling as if he, too, were guilty, thus to know +what sweet Anna Richards had intended only for her mother's +eye. +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"'From some words you have dropped, I fancy you are not +quite satisfied with brother's choice—that Miss Worthington +does not suit you in all respects, and you wish me to see her. +Dear mother, John marries for himself, not for us. I have +got so I can drive myself out in the little pony phaeton which +Miss Johnson was so kind as to leave for my benefit. Darling +Alice, how much I miss her. She always did me good in more +ways than one. She found the germ of faith which I did not +know I possessed. She encouraged me to go on. She told me of +Him who will not break the bruised reed. She left me, as I trust, +a better woman than she found me. Precious Alice! how I loved +her. Oh, if she could have fancied John, as at one time I hoped +she would.' +</p> + +<p> +(Second note by 'Lina.) "How that made me gnash my +teeth, for I had suspected that I was only playing second fiddle +for Alice Johnson, 'darling, precious Alice,' as Anna calls her." +</p></div> +<p> +"Oh, I am so glad Alice didn't read this letter," Mrs. Worthington +cried, while something which sounded much like a bit of +an oath dropped from Hugh's white lips, and then he continued: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"'When will you come? Asenath has sent the curtains in the +north chamber to the laundress, but will go no farther until we +hear for certain that Miss Worthington is to be our guest. Write +immediately. +</p> + +<p> +"'Yours affectionately,</p> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smcaps">"'Anna</span>. +</p> + +<p> +"'Remember me to John and Miss W——. +</p> + +<p> +"'P.S.—I still continue to be annoyed with women answering +that advertisement. Sometimes I'm half sorry I put it in +the paper, though if the right one ever comes, I shall think +there was a Providence in it.' +</p> + +<p> +"Mother, I am resolved now to win Dr. Richards at all hazards. +Only let me keep up the appearance of wealth, and the thing +is easily accomplished; but I can't go to Terrace Hill yet, cannot +meet this Anna, for, kindly as she spoke of me, I dread her +decision more than all the rest, inasmuch as I know it would +have more weight with the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +"But to come back to the madam, showing her point-lace cap +at dinner, and telling Mrs. ex-Governor Somebody how Miss +Worthington had a severe headache. I was fast asleep when +she returned. Had not read Anna's letter, nor anything! You +should have seen her face when I told her I had changed my +mind, that I could not go to Terrace Hill, that mamma (that's +you!) did not think it would be proper, inasmuch as I had no +claim upon them. You see, I made her believe I had written +to you on the subject, receiving a reply that you disapproved +of my going, and Brother Hugh, too, I quote him a heap, +making madam laugh till she cried with repeating his odd +speeches, she does so want to see that eccentric Hugh, she says." +</p></div> +<p> +Another groan from Mrs. Worthington, another something like +an oath from that eccentric Hugh, and he went on: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"I said, brother was afraid it was improper under the circumstances +for me to go, afraid lest people should talk; that I +preferred going at once to New York. So it was finally decided, +to the doctor's relief, I fancied, that we come here, and here we +are—hotel just like a beehive, and my room is in the fifth story. +</p> + +<p> +"John had come on the day before to secure rooms, so madam +and I were alone, occupying two whole seats, madam and myself +on one, madam's feet, two satchels, two silk umbrellas, one fan, +one bouquet, and a book in the other. Several tired-looking +folks glanced wistfully in that direction, but madam frowned +so majestically that they passed on into another car, leaving us +to our extra seat. At Rhinebeck, however, she found her match +in a very fine-looking man, apparently forty or thereabouts, with +a weed on his hat and a certain air, which savored strongly of +psalms and hymns and extempore praying. In short, I guessed +at once that he was a Presbyterian minister, old school at that. +Now, madam, you know, is true blue—apostolically descended, +and cannot tolerate anything like a dissenter. But I do not +give her credit for having sufficient sagacity to detect the heretic +in this handsome, pleasant-faced stranger, who stood looking this +way and that for a seat. Madam, I saw, grew very red in the +face, and finally threw down her veil, but not till the minister +saw it, and half started forward as if about to speak. The movement +showed him one extra seat, and very politely he laid his +hand upon it, saying: +</p> + +<p> +"'Pardon me, ladies, this, I believe, is unoccupied, and I can +find no other.' +</p> + +<p> +"Madam's feet came down with a jerk, ditto madam's portion +of the traps, although the stranger insisted that they did +not trouble him, while again his mild but expressive eyes scanned +the brown veil as if he would know whose face was under it. +When we reached New York, he bowed to us again, as if to +offer us assistance, but the doctor himself appeared, so that his +services were unnecessary. +</p> + +<p> +"'Did you see him?' madam whispered to John, who answered: +</p> + +<p> +"'See who?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Millbrook! He sat right there!' +</p> + +<p> +"'What, the parson? Where is he going?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I don't know. I'm so glad Anna was not here.' +</p> + +<p> +"All this was in an aside, but I heard it, and here are the +conclusions. Parson Millbrook has been and wants to be again +a lover of Anna Richards, but madam has shut up her bowels +of compassion against him for some reason to this deponent +unknown. Poor Anna, I am sorry for her, and as her sister, may +perhaps help her; but shall I ever be her sister? Ay, there's +the rub, and now, honor bright, I reach the point at last. +</p> + +<p> +"I am determined to bring the doctor to terms, and so rid +you and Hugh of myself. To do this I must at some rate keep +up the appearance of wealth. Perhaps Hugh never knew that +Nell Tiffton lent me that elegant pearl bracelet, bought by her +father at Ball & Black's. Night before last the doctor took me +to hear Charlotte Cushman as<i>Meg Merrilies</i>. I wore all the +jewelery for which I could find a place, Nell's bracelet with the +rest. The doctor and madam have both admired it very much, +never dreaming that it was borrowed. In the jam coming out +it must have unclasped and dropped off, for it's not to be found +high nor low, and you can fancy the muss I am in. Down at +Ball & Black's there fortunately is another exactly like Nell's, +and this I must buy at any rate. I can perhaps pay my board +bills four or five weeks longer, but Hugh must send me fifty +dollars with which to replace the bracelet. It must be done. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't for mercy's sake, let Alice Johnson get a sight of this +letter. I wonder if Dr. Richards did fancy her. Send the +money, send the money. +</p> + +<p> +"Your distracted</p><p class="noindent"><span class="smcaps">"'Lina</span>. +</p> + +<p> +"P.S.—One day later. Rejoice, oh, rejoice! and give ear. +The doctor has actually asked the question, and I blushingly +referred him to mamma, but he seemed to think this unnecessary, +took alarm at once, and pressed the matter until I said +yea. Aren't you glad? But one thing is sure—Hugh must sell +a nigger to get me a handsome outfit. There's Mug, always +under foot, doing no one any good. She'll bring six hundred +any day, she's so bright and healthy. Lulu he must give out and +out for a waiting maid. Madam expects it. And now one word +more; if Adah Hastings has not got over her idea of going to +Terrace Hill, she must get over it. Coax, advise, plead with, +threaten, or even throttle her, if necessary—anything to keep her +back. +</p> + +<p> +"Yours, in ecstatic distress,</p><p class="noindent"><span class="smcaps">"'Lina</span>" +</p></div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0024" id="h2HCH0024"></a> + CHAPTER XXIV +</h2> +<h3> + FORESHADOWINGS +</h3> +<p> +So absorbed were Hugh and his mother in that letter as not +to hear the howl of fear echoing through the hall, as Mug fled +in terror from the dreaded new owner to whom Master Hugh +was to sell her. Neither did they hear the catlike tread with +which Lulu glided past the door, taking the same direction +Mug had gone, namely, to Alice Johnson's room. +</p> + +<p> +Lulu had been sitting by the open window at the end of the +hall, and had heard every word of this letter, while Mug had +reached the threshold in time to hear all that was said about +selling her. Instinctively both turned for protection to Alice, +but Mug was the first to reach her. Throwing herself upon her +knees, she sobbed frantically. +</p> + +<p> +"You buys me, Miss Alice. You give Mar's Hugh six hundred +dollars for me, so't he can get Miss 'Lina's weddin' finery. +I'll be good, I will. I'll learn do Lord's Prar, an' de Possums +Creed, ebery word on't; will you, Miss Alice, say?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice tried to wrest her muslin dress from the child's grasp, +asking what she meant. +</p> + +<p> +"I know, I'll tell," and Lulu, scarcely less excited, but far +more capable of restraining herself, advanced into the room, and +ere the bewildered Alice could well understand what it all meant, +or make more than a feeble attempt to stop her, she had repeated +rapidly the entire contents of 'Lina's letter. +</p> + +<p> +Too much amazed at first to speak, Alice sat motionless, then +she said to Lulu. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry that you told me this. It was wrong in you to +listen, and you must not repeat it to any one else. Will you +promise?" +</p> + +<p> +Lulu gave the required promise, then with terror in every +lineament of her face she said: +</p> + +<p> +"But, Miss Alice, must I be Miss 'Lina's waiting maid? Will +Master Hugh permit it?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice did not know Hugh as well as we do, and in her heart +there was a fear lest for the sake of peace he might be overruled, +so she replied evasively. It was no easy task to sooth Muggins, +and only Alice's direct avowal, that if possible she would herself +become her purchaser, checked her cries at all, but the moment +this was said her sobbing ceased, and Alice was able to question +Lulu as to whether Hugh had read the letter. +</p> + +<p> +"He must be rational," she said, "but it is so sudden," and +a painful uneasiness crept over her as she recalled the look +which several times had puzzled her so much. +</p> + +<p> +"You can go now," Alice said, sitting down to reflect as to +her next best course. +</p> + +<p> +Adah must go to Terrace Hill at once, and Alice's must be +the purse which defrayed all the expense of fitting her up. If +ever Alice felt thankful to God for having made her rich in +this world's goods, it was that morning. Only the previous +night she had heard from Colonel Tiffton that the day was fixed +for the sale of his house and that Nell had nearly cried herself +into a second fever at the thoughts of leaving Mosside. "Then +there's Rocket," the colonel had said, "Hugh cannot buy him +back, and he's so bound up in him too, poor Hugh, poor all of +us," and the colonel had wrung Alice's hand, hurrying off ere +she had time to suggest what all along had been in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +"It does not matter," she thought. "A surprise will be quite +as pleasant, and then Mr. Liston may object to it as a silly +girl's fancy." +</p> + +<p> +This was the previous night, and now this morning another +demand had come in the shape of Muggins weeping in her +lap, of Lulu begging to be saved from 'Lina Worthington, and +from 'Lina herself asking Hugh for the money Alice knew he +had not got. +</p> + +<p> +"But I have," she whispered, "and I will send it too." +</p> + +<p> +Just then Adah came up the stairs, and Alice called her in, +asking if she still wished to go to Terrace Hill. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, more than ever," Adah replied. "Hugh is rational, I +hear, so I can talk to him about it before long. You must be +present, as I'm sure he will oppose it." +</p> + +<p> +Meantime in the sickroom there was an anxious consultation +between mother and son touching the fifty dollars which must +be raised for Nellie Tiffton's sake. +</p> + +<p> +"Were it not that I feel bound by honor to pay that debt, +'Lina might die before I'd send her a cent," said Hugh, his +eyes blazing with anger as he recalled the contents of 'Lina's +letter. +</p> + +<p> +But how should they raise the fifty? Alice's bills had been +paid regularly thus far, paid so delicately too, so as a matter +of right, that Mrs. Worthington, who knew how sadly it was +needed in their present distress, had accepted it unhesitatingly, +but Hugh's face flushed with a glow of shame when he heard +from his mother's lips that Alice was really paying them her +board. +</p> + +<p> +"It makes me hate myself," he said, groaning aloud, "that +I should suffer a girl like her to pay for the bread she eats. Oh, +poverty, poverty! It is a bitter drug to swallow." Then like a +brave man who saw the evil and was willing to face it, Hugh +came back to the original point, "Where should they get the +money?" +</p> + +<p> +"He might borrow it of Alice, as 'Lina suggested," Mrs. +Worthington said, timidly, while Hugh almost leaped upon the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Never, mother, never! Miss Johnson shall not be made to +pay our debts. There's Uncle John's gold watch, left as a kind +of heirloom, and very dear on that account. I've carried it long, +but now it must go. There's a pawnbroker's office opened in +Frankfort—take it there this very afternoon, and get for it +what you can. I never shall redeem it. There's no hope. It +was in my vest pocket when I was taken sick." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Hugh, not that. I know how much you prize it, and +it's all the valuable thing you have. I'll take in washing first," +Mrs. Worthington said. +</p> + +<p> +But Hugh was in earnest, and his mother brought the watch +from the nail over the mantel, where, all through his sickness +it had ticked away the weary hours, just as it ticked the night +its first owner died, with only Hugh sitting near, and listening +as it told the fleeting moments. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could only ask Alice what it was worth," she thought—and +why couldn't she? Yes, she would ask Alice, and with the +old hope strong at her heart, she went to Alice, whom she found +alone. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you wish to tell me anything? Hugh is better, I hear," +Alice said, observing Mrs. Worthington's agitation, and then +the whole came out. +</p> + +<p> +"'Lina must have fifty dollars. The necessity was imperative, +and they had not fifty to send unless Hugh sold his uncle's +watch, but she did not know what it was worth—could Alice tell +her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Worth more than you will get," Alice said, and then, as delicately +as possible she offered the money from her own purse, advancing +so many reasons why they should take it, that poor +Mrs. Worthington began to feel that in accepting it, she would +do Alice a favor. +</p> + +<p> +"She was willing," she stammered, "but there was Hugh—what +could they do with him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll manage that," Alice said, laughingly. "I'll engage that +he eats neither of us up. Suppose you write to 'Lina now, +saying that Hugh is better, and inclosing the money. I have +some New York money still," and she counted out, not fifty, +but seventy-five dollars, thinking within herself, "she may need +it more than I do." +</p> + +<p> +Easily swayed, Mrs. Worthington took the pen which Alice +offered, but quickly put it from her, saying, with a little rational +indignation, as she remembered 'Lina's heartlessness: +</p> + +<p> +"I won't write her a word. She don't deserve it. Inclose +the amount, and direct it, please." +</p> + +<p> +Placing the money in an envelope, Alice directed it as she +was bidden, without one word of Hugh, and without the slightest +congratulation concerning the engagement; nothing but the +money, which was to replace Ellen Tiffton's bracelet. +</p> + +<p> +Claib was deputed as messenger to take it to the office, together +with a hastily-written note to Mr. Liston, and then Alice +sat down to consider the best means of breaking it to Hugh. +Would he prove as gentle as when delirium was upon him; or +would he be greatly changed? And what would he think of her? +Alice would not have confessed it, but this really was the most +important query of all. +</p> + +<p> +Alice was not well pleased with her looks that morning. She +was too pale, too languid, and the black dress she wore only +increased the difficulty by adding to the marble hue of her complexion. +Even her hair did not curl as well as usual, though +Mug, who had dried her tears and come back to Alice's room, +admired her so much, likening her to the apple blossoms which +grew in the lower orchard. +</p> + +<p> +"Is you gwine to Mas'r Hugh?" she asked, as Alice passed +out into the hall. "I'se jest been dar. He's peart as a new +dollar—knows everybody. How long sense, you 'spec'?" and +Mug looked very wise, as she thus skirted around what she was +forbidden to divulge on pain of Hugh's displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +But Alice had no suspicions, and bidding Mug go down, she +entered Hugh's presence with a feeling that it was to all intents +and purposes their first meeting with each other. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0025" id="h2HCH0025"></a> + CHAPTER XXV +</h2> +<h3> + TALKING WITH HUGH +</h3> +<p> +"This is Miss Johnson," Mrs. Worthington said, as Alice +drew near, her pallor giving place to a bright flush. +</p> + +<p> +"I fancy I am to a certain degree indebted to Miss Johnson +for my life," Hugh said. "I was not wholly unconscious of your +presence," he continued, still holding her hand. "There were +moments when I had a vague idea of somebody different from +those I have always known bending over me, and I fancied, too, +that this somebody was sent to save me from some great evil. +I am glad you were here, Miss Johnson; I shall not forget your +kindness." +</p> + +<p> +He dropped her hand then, while Alice attempted to stammer +out some reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Adah, too, had been kind," she said, "quite as kind as herself." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Hugh knew that Adah was a dear, good girl. He was +glad they liked each other." +</p> + +<p> +Alice thought of Terrace Hill, but this was hardly the time to +worry Hugh with that, so she sat silent a while, until Mrs. +Worthington, growing very fidgety and very anxious to have +the money matter adjusted, said abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +"You must not be angry, Hugh. I asked Alice what that +watch was worth, and somehow the story of the lost bracelet +came out, and—and—she—Alice would not let me sell the watch. +Don't look so black, Hugh, don't—oh, Miss Johnson, you must +pacify him," and in terror poor Mrs. Worthington fled from +the room, leaving Alice and Hugh alone. +</p> + +<p> +"My mother told you of our difficulties! Has she no discretion, +no sense?" and Hugh's face grew dark with the wrath +he dared not manifest with Alice's eyes upon him. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Worthington," she said, "you have thanked me for +caring for you when you were sick. You have expressed a wish +to return in some way what you were pleased to call a kindness. +There is a way, a favor you can grant me, a favor we women +prize so highly; will you grant it? Will you let me do as I +please? that's the favor." +</p> + +<p> +She looked a very queen born to be obeyed as she talked thus +to Hugh. She did not make him feel small or mean, only submissive, +while her kindness touched a tender chord, which could +not vibrate unseen. Hugh was very weak, very nervous, too, +and turning his head away so that she could not see his face, +he let the hot tears drop upon his pillow; slowly at first they +came, but gradually as everything—his embarrassed condition, +Rocket's loss, 'Lina's selfishness, and Alice's generosity, came +rushing over him—they fell in perfect torrents, and Alice felt +a keen pang of pity, as sob after sob smote upon her ear, and +she knew the shame it must be to him thus to give away +before her. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not mean to distress you so. I am sorry if I have +done a wrong," she said to him softly, a sound of tears in her +own voice. +</p> + +<p> +He turned his white, suffering face toward her, and answered +with quivering lip: +</p> + +<p> +"It is not so much that. It is everything combined. I am +weak, I'm sick, I'm discouraged," and Hugh could not restrain +the tears. Soon rallying, however, he continued: +</p> + +<p> +"You think me a snivelling coward, no doubt, but believe me, +Miss Johnson, it is not my nature thus to give way. Tears and +Hugh Worthington are usually strangers to each other. I am +a man, and I will prove it to you, when I get well, but now I +am not myself, and I grant the favor you ask, simply because +I can't help it. You meant it in kindness. I take it as such. +I thank you, but it must not be repeated. You have come to +be my friend, my sister, you say. God bless you for that. I need +a sister's love so much, and Adah has given it to me. You like +Adah?" and he fixed his eyes inquiringly on Alice, who answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, very much." +</p> + +<p> +Now that the money matter was settled Hugh did not care +to talk longer of that or of himself, and eagerly seized upon +Adah as a topic interesting to both, and which would be likely +to keep Alice with him for a while at least, so, after a moment's +silence, during which Alice was revolving the expediency of leaving +him lest he should become too weary, he continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Johnson, you don't know how much I love Adah Hastings; +not as men generally love," he hastily added, as he caught +an expression of surprise on Alice's face, "not as that villain +professed to love her, but, as it seems to me, a brother might +love an only sister. I mean no disrespect to 'Lina," and his +chin quivered a little, "but I have dreamed of a different, +brotherly love from what I feel toward her, and my heart has +beaten so fast when I built castles of what might have been +had we both been different, I, more forbearing, more even tempered, +more like the world in general, and she, more—more"—he +knew not what, for he would not speak against her, so he +finally added, "had she known, just how to take me—just how to +make allowances for my rough, uncouth ways, which, of course, +annoy her." +</p> + +<p> +Poor Hugh! he was trying now to smooth over what 'Lina had +told Alice of himself—trying to apologize for them both, and +he did it so skillfully, that Alice felt an increased respect +for the man whose real character she had so misunderstood. +She, knew, however, that it could not be pleasant for him to +speak of 'Lina, and so she led him back to Adah by saying: +</p> + +<p> +"I had thought to talk with you of a plan which Mrs. Hastings +has in view, but think, perhaps, I had better wait till you +are stronger." +</p> + +<p> +"I am strong enough now—stronger than you think. Tell +me of the plan," and Hugh urged the request until Alice told +him of Terrace Hill and Adah's wish to go there. +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard something of this plan before," he said at last. +"Ad spoke of it in her letter. Miss Johnson, you know Dr. +Richards, I believe. Do you like him? Is he a man to be +trusted?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know Dr. Richards. He is said to be fine looking. I +suspect there is a liking between him and your sister. Suppose +for your benefit I describe him," and without waiting for +permission, Alice portrayed the doctor, feature by feature, +watching Hugh narrowly the while, to see if aught she said +harmonized with any likeness he might have in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +But Hugh was not thinking of that night which ruined Adah, +and Alice's description awakened no suspicion. She saw it did +not, and thought once to tell him frankly all she feared, but was +deterred from doing so by a feeling that possibly she might be +wrong in her conjectures. Adah's presence at Terrace Hill would +set that matter right, and she asked if Hugh did not think it +best for her to go. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh could only talk in a straightforward manner, and after +a moment he answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, best on some accounts. Her going may do good and +prevent a wrong. Yes, Adah may go." +</p> + +<p> +He continued: "she surely cannot go alone. Would Sam do? +I hear her now. Call her while I talk with her." +</p> + +<p> +Adah came at once, and heard from Hugh that he was willing +she should go, provided Spring Bank were still considered +her home, the spot to which she could always turn for shelter +as to a brother's house. +</p> + +<p> +"You seem so like a sister," he said, smoothing her soft brown +hair, "that I shall be sorry to lose you, and shall miss you so +much, but Miss Johnson thinks it right for you to go. Will +you take Sam as an escort?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, no; I don't want anybody," Adah cried, "Keep +Sam with you, and if in time I should earn enough to buy him, +to free him. Oh, will you sell him to me,—not to keep," she +added, quickly, as she saw the quizzical expression of Hugh's +face,—"not to keep. I would not own a slave—but to free, to +tell him he's his own master. Will you, Hugh?" +</p> + +<p> +He answered with a smile: +</p> + +<p> +"I thought once as you do, that I would not own my brother, +but we get hardened to these things. I've never sold one yet." +</p> + +<p> +"But you will. You'll sell me Sam," and Adah, in her +eagerness, grasped his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll give him to you," Hugh said. "Call him, Miss Johnson." +</p> + +<p> +Alice obeyed, and Sam came hobbling in, listening in amazement +to Hugh's question. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you like to be free, my boy?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a sudden flush on the old man's cheek, and then +he answered, meekly: +</p> + +<p> +"Thanky', Mas'r Hugh. It comed a'most too late. Years +ago, when Sam was young and peart, de berry smell of freedom +make de sap bump through de veins like trip-hammer. Den, +world all before, now world all behind. Nothing but t'other +side of Jordan before. 'Bleeged to you, berry much, but when +mas'r bought ole Sam for pity, ole Sam feel in his bones that +some time he pay Mas'r Hugh; he don't know how, but it be's +comin'. Sam knows it. I'm best off here." +</p> + +<p> +"But suppose I died, when I was so sick, what then?" Hugh +asked, and Sam replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I thinks that all over on dem days mas'r so rarin'. I prays +many times that God would spar' young mas'r, and He hears ole +Sam. He gives us back our mas'r." +</p> + +<p> +There were tears in Hugh's eyes, but he again urged upon +him his freedom, offering to give him either to Adah or Alice, +just which he preferred. +</p> + +<p> +"I likes 'em both," Sam said, "but I likes Mas'r Hugh de +best, 'case, scuse me, mas'r, he ain't in de way, I feared, and +Sam hope to help him find it. Sam long's to Mas'r Hugh till +dat day comes he sees ahead, when he pays off de debt." +</p> + +<p> +With another blessing on Mas'r Hugh Sam left the room. +</p> + +<p> +"What can he mean about a coming day when he can pay his +debt?" Hugh asked, but Alice could not enlighten him. +</p> + +<p> +Adah, however, after hesitating a moment, replied: +</p> + +<p> +"During your illness you have lost the newspaper gossip to +the effect that if Lincoln is elected to the presidential chair, +civil war is sure to be the result. Now, what Sam means is this, +that in case of a rebellion or insurrection, which he fully expects, +he will in some way save your life, he don't know how, but +he is sure." +</p> + +<p> +To Alice the word rebellion or insurrection had a dreadful +sound, and her cheek paled with fear, but the feeling quickly +passed away, as, like many other deluded ones she thought how +impossible it was that our fair republic should be compelled to +lay her dishonored head low in the dust. +</p> + +<p> +It was settled finally that Adah should go as soon as the +necessary additions could be made to her own and Willie's wardrobe, +and then Alice adroitly led the conversation to Colonel +Tiffton and his embarrassments. What did Hugh think Mosside +worth, and who would probably be most anxious to secure +it? There were livid spots on Hugh's face now, and a strange +gleam in his dark eyes as he answered between his teeth, "Harney," +groaning aloud as he remembered Rocket, and saw him in +fancy the property of his enemy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0026" id="h2HCH0026"></a> + CHAPTER XXVI +</h2> +<h3> + THE DAY OF THE SALE +</h3> +<p> +It was strange Hugh did not improve faster, the old doctor +thought. There was something weighing on his mind, he said, +something which kept him awake, and the kind man set himself +to divine the cause. Thinking at last he had done so, he said +to him one day, the last before the sale: +</p> + +<p> +"My boy, you don't get on for worrying about something. I +don't pretend to second sight, but I b'lieve I've got on the right +track. It's my pesky bill. I know it's big, for I've been here +every day this going on three months, but I'll cut it down +to the last cent, see if I don't; and if it's an object, I'll wait ten +years, so chirk up a bit," and wringing his hand, the well-meaning +doctor hurried off, leaving Hugh alone with his sad +thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +It was not so much the bill which troubled him—it was Rocket, +and the feeling sure that he should never own him again. Heretofore +there had at intervals been a faint hope in his heart that +by some means he might redeem him, but that was over now. +The sale of Colonel Tiffton's effects occurred upon the morrow, +and money stood waiting for Rocket, while Harney, with a +fiendish, revengeful disposition, which was determined to gain +its point at last, had been heard to say that "rather than lose +the horse or let it pass back to its former owner, he believed he +would give a thousand dollars." +</p> + +<p> +That settled it, Hugh had no thousand dollars; he had not +even ten, and with a moan of pain, he tried to shut out Rocket +from his mind. And this it was which kept him so nervous and +restless, dreading yet longing for the eventful day, and feeling +glad when at last he could say— +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow is the sale." +</p> + +<p> +The next morning was cold and chilly, making Hugh shiver +as he waited for the footstep which he had learned to know so +well. She had not come to see him the previous night, and he +waited for her anxiously now, feeling sure that on this day of all +others she would stay with him. How, then, was he disappointed +when at last she came to him, cloaked and hooded as for a ride. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you going out to-day again?" he asked, his tone that of +a pleading child. +</p> + +<p> +"It does not seem right to leave you alone, I know," she said, +"but poor Ellen needs me sadly, and I promised to be there." +</p> + +<p> +"At Mosside, with all those rough men, oh, Alice, don't go!" +and Hugh grasped the little hand. +</p> + +<p> +"It may appear unladylike, I know, but I think it right to +stay by Ellen. By the way," and Alice spoke rapidly now, "the +doctor says you'll never get well so long as you keep so closely in +the house. You are able to ride, and I promised to coax you out +to-morrow, if the day is fine. I shall not take a refusal," she +continued, as he shook his head. "I am getting quite vain of +my horsemanship. I shall feel quite proud of your escort, even +if I have to tease for it; so, remember, you are mine for a part +of to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +She drew her hand from his, and with another of her radiant +smiles, swept from the room, leaving him in a maze of blissful +bewilderment. Never till this morning had a hope entered +Hugh's heart that Alice Johnson might be won. Except her, +there was not a girl in all the world who had ever awakened the +slightest emotion within his heart, and Alice had seemed so far +removed from him that to dream of her was worse than useless. +She would never esteem him save as a friend, and until this +morning Hugh had fancied he could be satisfied with that, but +there was something in the way her little fingers twined themselves +around his, something in her manner, which prompted +the wild hope that in an unguarded moment she had betrayed +herself, had permitted him a glimpse of what was in her mind, +only a glimpse, but enough to make the poor deluded man giddy +with happiness. She, the Golden Haired, could be won, and +should be won. +</p> + +<p> +"My wife, my Alice, my Golden Hair," he kept repeating to +himself, until, in his weak state, the perspiration dropped from +every pore, and his mother, when she came to him, asked in +much alarm what was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +He could not tell her of his newly-born joy, so he answered +evasively: +</p> + +<p> +"Rocket is sold to-day. Is not that matter enough?" +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Hugh, I wish so much that I was rich!" the mother +sighed, as she wiped the sweat drops from his brow, arranged +his pillows more comfortably, and then, sitting down beside him, +said, hesitatingly—"I have another letter from 'Lina. Can +you hear it now, or will you read it for yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +It was strange how the mention of 'Lina embittered at once +Hugh's cup of bliss, making him answer pettishly: +</p> + +<p> +"She has waited long enough, I think. Give it to me, please," +and taking the letter that morning received, he read first that +'Lina was much obliged for the seventy-five dollars, and thought +they must be growing generous, as she only asked for fifty. +</p> + +<p> +"What seventy-five dollars? What does she mean?" Hugh +exclaimed, but his mother could not tell, unless it were that +Alice, unknown to them, had sent more than 'Lina asked for. +</p> + +<p> +This seemed probable, and as it was the only solution of the +mystery, he accepted it as the real one, and returned to the +letter, learning that the bracelet was purchased, that it could +not be told from the lost one, that she was sporting it on Broadway +every day, that she did not go to the prince's ball just for +the doctor's meanness in not procuring a ticket when he had one +offered to him for eighty dollars! +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +"I don't really suppose he could afford it," she wrote, "but it +made me mad just the same, and I pouted all day. I saw the +ladies, though, after they were dressed, and that did me some +good, particularly as the Queen of the South, Madam Le Vert, +asked my opinion of her chaste, beautiful toilet, just as if she +had faith in my judgment. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, after the fortunate ones were gone, I went to my room +to pout, and directly Mother Richards sent Johnny up to coax +me, whereupon there ensued a bit of a quarrel, I twitting him +about that ambrotype of a young girl, which Nell Tiffton found +at the St. Nicholas, and which the doctor claimed, seeming +greatly agitated, and saying it was very dear to him, because the +original was dead. Well, I told him of it, and said if he loved +that girl better than me, he was welcome to have her. 'Lina +Worthington had too may eligible offers to play second fiddle to +any one. +</p> + +<p> +"''Lina,' he said, 'I will not deceive you, though I meant to +do so. I did love another before ever I heard of you, a fair +young girl, as pure, as innocent as the angels. She is an angel +now, for she is dead. Do not ask further of her. Let it suffice +that I loved her, that I lost her. I shall never tell you more of +her sad story. Let her never be named to me again. It was +long ago. I have met you since, have asked and wish you to be +my wife,'—and so we made it up, and I promised not to speak +of my rival. Pleasant predicament, I am in, but I'll worm it +out of him yet. I'll haunt him with her dead body." +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +"Oh, mother," and Hugh gasped for breath. "Is Ad—can +she be anything to us? Is my blood in her veins?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Hugh, she's your half-sister. Forgive me that I made +her so," and the poor mother wept over the heartless girl. "But +go on," she whispered. "See where 'Lina is now," and Hugh +read on, learning that old Mother Richards had returned home, +that Anna had written a sweet, sisterly note, welcoming her as +John's bride to their love, that she had answered her in the +same gracious strain, heightening the effect by dropping a few +drops of water here and there, to answer for tears wrung out +by Anna's sympathy, that Mrs. Ellsworth and her brother, Irving +Stanley, came to the hotel, that Irving had a ticket to +the ball offered him, but declined, just because he did not +believe in balls, that having a little 'axe to grind,' she +had done her best to cultivate Mrs. Ellsworth, presuming a +great deal on their courtship, and making herself so agreeable +to her child, a most ugly piece of deformity, that cousin Carrie, +who had hired a furnished house for the winter, had invited her +to spend the season with her, and she was now snugly ensconced +in most delightful quarters on Twenty-second Street, between +Fifth and Sixth Avenues. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +"Sometimes," she wrote, "I half suspect Mrs. Ellsworth did +not think I would jump at her invitation so quick, but I don't +care. The doctor, for some reason or other, has deferred our +marriage until spring, and dear knows I am not coming back to +horrid Spring Bank any sooner than I can help. +</p> + +<p> +"By the way, I'm somewhat haunted with the dread that, +after all, Adah may take it into her willful head to go to Terrace +Hill, and I would not have her for the world. How does Alice +get on with Hugh? I conclude he must be well by this time. +Does he wear his pants inside his cowhides yet, or have Alice's +blue eyes had a refining effect upon his pantaloons? Tell him +not to set his heart upon her, for, to my certain knowledge, Irving +Stanley, Esq., has an interest in that quarter, while she is +not indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +"He has his young sister Augusta here now. She has come +on to do her shopping in New York, and is stopping with Mrs. +Ellsworth. A fine little creature, quite stylish, but very puritanical. +Through Augusta I have got acquainted with Lottie +Gardner, a kind of stepniece to the doctor, and excessively aristocratic. +You ought to have seen how coolly her big, proud, +black eyes inspected one. I rather like her, though. She and +Augusta Stanley were together at Madam ——'s school in the +city. +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't Adah say she went there once? Again I charge you, +don't let her go to Terrace Hill on any account. +</p> + +<p> +"And one other thing. I shall buy my bridal trousseau under +Mrs. Ellsworth's supervision. She has exquisite taste, and Hugh +must send the money. As I told him before, he can sell Mug. +Harney will buy her. He likes pretty darkies." +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +"Oh, horror! can Ad be a woman, with womanly feelings?" +Hugh exclaimed, feeling as if he hated his sister. +</p> + +<p> +But after a moment he was able to listen while his mother +asked if it would not be better to persuade Adah not to go to +Terrace Hill. +</p> + +<p> +"It may interfere with 'Lina's plans," she said, "and now it's +gone so far, it seems a pity to have it broken up. It's—it's very +pleasant with 'Lina gone," and with a choking sob, Mrs. Worthington +laid her face upon the pillow, ashamed and sorry that the +real sentiments of her heart were thus laid bare. +</p> + +<p> +It was terrible for a mother to feel that her home would be +happier for the absence of a child, and that child an only daughter, +but she did feel so, and it made her half willing that Dr. +Richards should be deceived. But Hugh shrank from the dishonorable +proceeding. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington always yielded to Hugh, and she did so +now, mentally resolving, however, to say a few words to Adah, +relative to her not divulging anything which could possibly +harm 'Lina, such as telling how poor they were, or anything like +that. This done, Mrs. Worthington felt easier, and as Hugh +looked tired and worried, she left him for a time, having first +called Muggins to gather up the fragments of 'Lina's letter +which Hugh had thrown upon the carpet. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, burn every trace of it," Hugh said, watching the child +as she picked up piece by piece, and threw them into the grate. +</p> + +<p> +"I means to save dat ar. I'll play I has a letter for Miss +Alice," Mug thought, as she came upon a bit larger than the +others, and unwittingly she hid in her bosom that portion of +the letter referring to herself and Harney! This done, she too +left the room, and Hugh was at last alone. +</p> + +<p> +He had little hope now that he would ever win Alice, so +jealously sure was he that Irving was preferred before him, and +he whispered sadly to himself: +</p> + +<p> +"I can live on just the same, I suppose. Life will be no +more dreary than it was before I knew her. No, nor half so +dreary, for 'it is better to have loved and lost than not to have +loved at all.' That is what Adah said once when I asked what +she would give never to have met that villain." +</p> + +<p> +As it frequently happens that when an individual is talked or +thought about, that individual appears, so Adah now came in, +asking how Hugh was, and if she should not sit a while with +him. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh's face brightened at once, for next to Alice he liked +best to have Adah with him. With 'Lina's letter still fresh in +his mind it was very natural for him to think of what was +said of Augusta Stanley, and after Adah had sat a moment, +he asked if she remembered such a person at Madam Dupont's +school, or Lottie Gardner either. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I remember them both," and Adah looked up quickly. +"Lottie was proud and haughty, though quite popular with +most of the girls, I believe; but Augusta—oh, I liked her so +much. Do you know her?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; but Ad, it seems, has ingratiated herself into the good +graces of Mrs. Ellsworth, this Augusta's sister. There's a +brother, too'—" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I remember. He came one day with Augusta, and all +the girls were so delighted. I hardly noticed him myself, for +my head was full of George. It was there I met him first, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +There was a shadow now on Adah's face, and she sat silent +for some time, thinking of the past, while Hugh watched the +changes of her beautiful face, wondering what was the mystery +which seemed to have shrouded the whole of her young life. +</p> + +<p> +"You have done me a great deal of good," he said; "and +sometimes I think it's wrong in me to let you go away, when, if +I kept you, you might teach me how to be a good man—a Christian +man, I mean." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, if you only would be one," and the light which shone +in Adah's eyes seemed born of Heaven. "I am going, it is true, +but there is One who will stay with you—One who loves you +so much." +</p> + +<p> +He thought she meant Alice, and he grasped her hand, and +exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Loves me, Adah, does she? Say it again! Does Alice Johnson +love me, me? Hugh? Did she tell you so? Adah," and +Hugh spoke vehemently, "I have admitted to you what an hour +ago I fancied nothing could wring from me, but I trust to your +discretion not to betray it; certainly not to her, not to Alice, +for, of course, there is no hope. You do not think there is? +You know her better than I," and he looked wistfully at Adah, +who felt constrained to answer: +</p> + +<p> +"There might have been, I'm sure, if she had seen no one +else." +</p> + +<p> +"Then she has—she does love another?" and Hugh's face +was white as ashes. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know that she loves him; she did not say so," Adah +replied, thinking it better for Hugh that he should know the +whole. "There was a boy or youth, who saved her life at the +peril of his own, and she remembered him so long, praying for +him daily that God would bring him to her again, so she could +thank him for his kindness." +</p> + +<p> +Poor Hugh. He saw clearly now how it all was. He had +suffered his uncle, who affected a dislike for "Hugh," to call +him "Irving." He had also, for no reason at all, suffered Alice +to think he was a Stanley, and this was the result. +</p> + +<p> +"I can live on just as I did before," was again the mental +cry of his wrung heart. +</p> + +<p> +How changed were all things now, for the certainty that +Alice never would be his had cast a pall over everything, and +even the autumnal sunshine streaming through the window +seemed hateful to him. Involuntarily his mind wandered to +the sale and to Rocket, perhaps at that very moment upon the +block. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could have kept him, it would have been some consolation," +he sighed, just as the sound of hoofs dashing up to the +door met his ear. +</p> + +<p> +It was Claib, and just as Hugh was wondering at his headlong +haste, he burst into the room, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mas'r Hugh, 'tain't no use now. He'd done sold, Rocket +is. I hearn him knocked down, and then I comed to tell you, +an' he looked so handsome, too,—caperin' like a kitten. They +done made me show him off, for he wouldn't come for nobody +else, but the minit he fotched a sight of dis chile, he flung +'em right and left. I fairly cried to see how he went on." +</p> + +<p> +There was no color now in Hugh's face, and his voice trembled +as he asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Who bought him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Harney, in course, bought him for five-fifty. I tells you +they runs him up, somebody did, and once, when he stood at +four hundred and fifty, and I thought the auction was going to +say 'Gone,' I bids myself." +</p> + +<p> +"You!" and Hugh stared blankly at him. +</p> + +<p> +"I know it wan't manners, but it came out 'fore I thought, +and Harney, he hits me a cuff, and tells me to hush my jaw. +He got paid, though, for jes' then a voice I hadn't hearn afore, +a wee voice like a girl's, calls out five hundred, and ole Harney +turn black as tar. 'Who's that?' he said, pushin' inter the +crowd, and like a mad dog yelled out five-fifty, and then he +set to cussin' who 'twas biddin' ag'in him. I hearn them 'round +me say, 'That fetches it. Rocket's a goner,' when I flung the +halter in Harney's ugly face, and came off home to tell you. +Poor Mas'r, you is gwine to faint," and the well-meaning, but +rather impudent Claib, sprang forward in time to catch and hold +his young master, who otherwise might have fallen to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh had borne much that day. The sudden hope that Alice +might be won, followed so soon by the certainty that she could +not, had shaken his nerves and tried his strength cruelly, while +the story Claib had told unmanned him entirely, and this it +was which made him grow so cold and faint, reeling in his chair, +and leaning gladly for support against the sturdy Claib, who +led him to the bed, and then went in quest of Adah. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0027" id="h2HCH0027"></a> + CHAPTER XXVII +</h2> +<h3> + THE SALE +</h3> +<p> +There was a crowd of people out that day to attend the sale +of Colonel Tiffton's household effects. Even fair ladies, too, +came in their carriages, holding high their aristocratic skirts +as they threaded their way through the rooms where piles of +carpeting and furniture of various kinds lay awaiting the shrill +voice and hammer of the auctioneer, a portly little man, who felt +more for the family than his appearance would indicate. +</p> + +<p> +There had been a long talk that morning between himself and +a young lady, a stranger to him, whose wondrous beauty had +thrilled his heart just as it did every heart beating beneath a +male's attire. The lady had seemed a little worried, as she +talked, casting anxious glances up the Lexington turnpike, and +asking several times when the Lexington cars were due. +</p> + +<p> +"It shan't make no difference. I'll take your word," the +auctioneer had said in reply to some doubts expressed by her. +"I'd trust your face for a million," and with a profound bow by +way of emphasizing his compliment, the well-meaning Skinner +went out to the group assembled near Rocket while the lady +returned to the upper chamber where Mrs. Tiffton and Ellen +were assembled. +</p> + +<p> +Once Harney's voice, pitched in its blandest tone, was heard +talking to the ladies, and then Ellen stopped her ears, exclaiming +passionately: +</p> + +<p> +"I hate that man, I hate him. I almost wish that I could +kill him." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Ellen; remember! 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, +saith the Lord,'" Alice whispered to the excited girl who answered +hastily: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't preach to me now. I'm too wretched. Wait till you +lose everything by one man's villainy, then see if you won't +curse him." +</p> + +<p> +There was an increased confusion in the yard below, and +Alice knew the sale was about to commence. The white-haired +colonel kept watch while one after another of his household +goods were sold. Inferior articles they were at first, and the +crowd were not much disposed to bid, but all were dear to the +old man, who groaned each time an article was knocked off, and +so passed effectually from his possession. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd grew weary at last—they must have brisker sport +than that, if they would keep warm in that chilly November +wind, and cries for the "horses" were heard. +</p> + +<p> +"Your crack ones, too. I'm tired of this," growled Harney, +and Ellen's riding pony was led out. The colonel saw the playful +animal, and tottered to Ellen's chamber, saying: +</p> + +<p> +"They're going to sell Beauty, Nell. Poor Nellie, don't cry," +and the old man laid his hand on his weeping daughter's head. +</p> + +<p> +"Colonel Tiffton, this way please," and Alice spoke in a +whisper. "I want Beauty. Couldn't you bid for me, bid all you +would be willing to give if you were bidding for Ellen?" +</p> + +<p> +The colonel looked at her in a kind of dazed, bewildered way, +as if not fully comprehending her, till she repeated her request; +then mechanically he went back to his post on the balcony, and +just as Harney's last bid was about to receive the final "gone," +he raised it twenty dollars, and ere Harney had time to recover +his astonishment, Beauty was disposed of, and the colonel's +servant Ham led her in triumph back to the stable. +</p> + +<p> +With a fierce scowl of defiance Harney called for Rocket. +Suspecting something wrong the animal refused to come out, +and planting his fore feet firmly upon the floor of the stable, +kept them all at bay. With a fierce oath, the brutal Harney gave +him a stinging blow, which made the tender flesh quiver with +pain, but the fiery gleam in the noble animal's eye warned him +not to repeat it. Suddenly among the excited group of dusky +faces he spied that of Claib, and bade him lead out the horse. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't. Oh, mas'r, for the dear—" Claib began, but +Harney's riding whip silenced him at once, and he went submissively +in to Rocket, who became as gentle beneath his touch +as a lamb. +</p> + +<p> +Did the sagacious creature think then of Hugh, and fancy +Claib had come to lead him home? We cannot tell. We only +know how proudly he arched his graceful neck, as with dancing, +mincing steps, he gamboled around Claib, rubbing his nose +against the honest black face, where the tears were standing, +and trying to lick the hands which had fed him so often at +Spring Bank. +</p> + +<p> +Loud were the cries of admiration which hailed his appearance. +</p> + +<p> +The bids were very rapid, for Rocket was popular, but Harney +bided his time, standing-silently by, with a look on his face of +cool contempt for those who presumed to think they could be the +fortunate ones. He was prepared to give more than any one else. +Nobody would go above his figure, he had set it so high—higher +even than Rocket was really worth. Five hundred and fifty, if +necessary. No one would rise above that, Harney was sure, and +quietly waited until the bids were far between, and the auctioneer +still dwelling upon the last, seemed waiting expectantly for +something. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe my soul the fellow knows I mean to have that +horse," thought Harney, and with an air which said, "that +settles it," he called out in loud, clear tones, "Four hundred," +thus adding fifty at one bid. +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight movement then in the upper balcony, an +opening of the glass door, and a suppressed whisper ran through +the crowd, as Alice came out and stood by the colonel's aide. +</p> + +<p> +The bidding went on briskly now, each bidder raising a few +dollars, till four hundred and fifty was reached, and then there +came a pause, broken only by the voice of the excited Claib, +who, as he confessed to Hugh, had ventured to speak for himself, +and was rewarded for his temerity by a blow from Harney. +With that blow still tingling about his ears and confusing his +senses, Claib could not well tell whence or from whom came +that silvery, half-tremulous voice, which passed so like an electric +shock through the eager crowd, and rousing Harney to a +perfect fury. +</p> + +<p> +"Five hundred." +</p> + +<p> +There was no mistaking the words, and with a muttered curse +at the fair bidder shrinking behind the colonel, and blushing, +as if in shame, Harney yelled out his big price, all he had meant to +give. He was mad with rage, for he knew well for whom that +fair Northern girl was interested. He had heard much of Alice +Johnson—had seen her occasionally in the Spring Bank carriage +as she stopped in Frankfort; and once she had stopped before +his store, asking, with such a pretty grace, that the piece of +goods she wished to look at might be brought to her for inspection, +that he had determined to take it himself, but remembered +his dignity as half millionaire, and sent his head clerk instead. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath Harney's coarse nature there was a strange susceptibility +to female beauty, and neither the lustrous blue of Alice's +large eyes, nor yet the singular sweetness of her voice, as she +thanked the clerk for his trouble, had been forgotten. He had +heard that she was rich—how rich he did not know—but fancied +she might possibly be worth a few paltry thousands, not more, +and so, of course, she was not prepared to compete with him, +who counted his gold by hundreds of thousands. Five hundred +was all she would give for Rocket. How, then was he surprised +and chagrined when, with a coolness equal to his own, she kept +steadily on, scarcely allowing the auctioneer to repeat his bid +before she increased it, and once, womanlike, raising on her own. +</p> + +<p> +"Fie, Harney! Shame to go against a girl! Better give it +up, for don't you see she's resolved to have him? She's worth +half Massachusetts, too, they say." +</p> + +<p> +These and like expressions met Harney on every side, until +at last, as he paused to answer some of them, growing heated in +the altercation, and for the instant forgetting Rocket, the +auctioneer brought the hammer down with a click which made +Harney leap from the ground, for by that sound he knew that +Rocket was sold to Alice Johnson for six hundred dollars! +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Alice had sought the friendly shelter of Ellen's +room, where the tension of nerve endured so long gave way, and +sinking upon the sofa she fainted, just as down the Lexington +turnpike came the man looked for so long in the earlier part +of the day. She could not err, in Mr. Liston's estimation, and +Alice grew calm again, and in a hurried consultation explained +to him more definitely than her letter had done, what her wishes +were—Colonel Tiffton must not be homeless in his old age. +There were ten thousand dollars lying in the—— Bank in +Massachusetts, so she would have Mosside purchased in her +name for Colonel Tiffton, not as a gift, for he would not accept +it, but as a loan, to be paid at his convenience. This was Alice's +plan, and Mr. Liston acted upon it at once. Taking his place +in the motley assemblage, he bid quietly, steadily, until at last +Mosside, with its appurtenances, belonged ostensibly to him, +and the half-glad, half-disappointed people wondered greatly +who Mr. Jacob Liston could be, or from what quarter of the +globe he had suddenly dropped into their midst. +</p> + +<p> +Colonel Tiffton knew that nearly everything had been purchased +by him, and felt glad that a stranger rather than a neighbor +was to occupy what had been so dear to him, and that his +servants would not be separated. With Ellen it was different. +A neighbor might allow them to remain there a time, she said, +while a stranger would not, and she was weeping bitterly, when, +as the sound of voices and the tread of feet gradually died away +from the yard below, Alice came to her side, and bending over +her, said softly, "Could you bear some good news now—bear to +know who is to inhabit Mosside?" +</p> + +<p> +"Good news?" and Ellen looked up wonderingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, good news, I think you will call it," and then as deliberately +as possible Alice told what had been done, and that +the colonel was still to occupy his old home, "As my tenant, +if you like," she said to him, when he began to demur. +</p> + +<p> +When at last it was clear to the old man, he laid his hand +upon the head of the young girl and whispered huskily, "I cannot +thank you as I would, or tell you what's in my heart, God +bless you, Alice Johnson." +</p> + +<p> +Alice longed to say a word to him of the God to whom he +had thus paid tribute, but she felt the time was hardly then, +and after a few more assurances to Ellen started for Spring +Bank, where Mrs. Worthington and Adah were waiting for her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0028" id="h2HCH0028"></a> + CHAPTER XXVIII +</h2> +<h3> + THE RIDE +</h3> +<p> +They had kept it all from Hugh, telling him only that a +stranger had purchased Mosside. He had not asked for Rocket, +or even mentioned him, though his pet was really uppermost in +his mind, and when he awoke next morning from his feverish +sleep and remembered Alice's proposal to ride, he said to himself, +"I cannot go, much as I might enjoy it. No other horse +would carry me as gently as Rocket. Oh! Rocket!" +</p> + +<p> +It was a bright, balmy morning, and Hugh, as he walked +slowly to the window and inhaled the fragrant air, felt that it +would do him good, "But I shan't go," he said, and when, after +breakfast was over, Alice came, reminding him of the ride, he +began an excuse, but his resolution quickly gave way before her +sprightly arguments, and he finally assented, saying, however: +"You must not expect a gay cavalier, for I am still too weak, +and I have no horse fit to ride with you, at least." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know," and Alice ran gayly to her room and donned +her riding dress, wondering what Hugh would say and how +Rocket would act. +</p> + +<p> +He was out in the back yard now, pawing and curvetting, and +rubbing his nose against all who came near him, while Claib +was holding him by his new bridle and talking to him of Mas'r +Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +Even an ugly woman is improved by a riding costume, and +Alice, beautiful though she was, looked still more beautiful in +her closely-fitting habit. +</p> + +<p> +"There, I'm ready," she said, running down to Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of her his face flushed, while a half sigh escaped +him as he thought how proud he would once have been to ride +with her; but that was in the days of Rocket, when rider and +horse were called the best in the county. +</p> + +<p> +"Where's Jim?" Hugh asked, glancing around in quest of +the huge animal he expected to mount, and which he had frequently +likened to a stone wall. +</p> + +<p> +"Claib has your horse. He's coming," and with great apparent +unconcern Alice worked industriously at one of her fairy +gantlets. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Adah flew to Hugh's side, and said, eagerly: +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh, please whistle once, just as you used to do for Rocket—just once, +and let Miss Johnson hear you." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh felt as if she were mocking him, but he yielded, while +like a gleam of lightning the shadow of a suspicion flitted across +his mind. It was a loud, shrill whistle, penetrating even to the +woods, and the instant the old familiar sound fell on Rocket's +ear he went tearing around the house, answering that call with +the neigh he had been wont to give when summoned by his +master. Utterly speechless, Hugh stood gazing at him as he +came up, his neck arched proudly, and his silken mane flowing +as gracefully as on the day when he was led away to Colonel +Tiffton's stall. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't somebody tell me what it means?" Hugh gasped, +stretching out his hands toward Rocket, who even attempted +to lick them. +</p> + +<p> +At this point Alice stepped forward, and taking Rocket's +bridle, laid it across Hugh's lap, saying, softly: +</p> + +<p> +"It means that Rocket is yours, purchased by a friend, saved +from Harney, for you. Mount him, and see if he rides as easily +as ever. I am impatient to be off." +</p> + +<p> +But had Hugh's life depended upon it, he could not have +mounted Rocket then. He knew the friend was Alice, and the +magnitude of the act overpowered him. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Johnson," he cried, "what made you do it? It +must not be. I cannot suffer it." +</p> + +<p> +"Not to please me?" and Alice's face wore its most winning +look. "It's been my fixed determination ever since I heard of +Rocket, and knew how much you loved him. I was never so +happy doing an act in my life, and now you must not spoil it +all by refusing." +</p> + +<p> +"As a loan, then, not as a gift," Hugh whispered. "It shall +not be a gift." +</p> + +<p> +"It need not," Alice rejoined, as a sudden plan for carrying +out another project crossed her mind. "You shall pay for +Rocket if you like, and I'll tell you how on our ride. Shall +we go?" +</p> + +<p> +Once out upon the highway, where there were no mud holes +to shun, no gates to open and shut, Hugh broached the subject +of Rocket again, when Alice told him unhesitatingly how he +could, if he would, pay for him and leave her greatly his debtor. +The scrap of paper, which Muggins had saved from the letter +thrown by Hugh upon the carpet, had been placed by the queer +little child in an old envelope, which she called her letter to +Miss Alice. Handing it to her that morning with the utmost +gravity, she had asked her to read "Mug's letter," and Alice had +read the brief lines written by 'Lina: "Hugh must send the +money, as I told him before. He can sell Mug; Harney likes +pretty darkies." There was a cold, sick feeling at Alice's heart, +a shrinking with horror from 'Lina Worthington, and then she +came to a decision. Mug should be hers, and so, as skillfully +as she could she brought it around, that having taken a great +fancy both to Lulu and Muggins, she wished to buy them both, +giving whatever Hugh honestly thought they were worth. +Rocket, if he pleased, should be taken as part or whole payment +for Mug, and so cease to be a gift. +</p> + +<p> +"I have no mercenary motives in the matter," she said, "With +me they will be free, and this, I am sure, will be an inducement +for you to consent to my proposal." +</p> + +<p> +A slave master can love his bond servant, and Hugh loved the +little Mug so much that the idea of parting with her as he +surely must at some future time if he assented to Alice's plan, +made him hesitate. But he decided at last, influenced not so +much by need of money as by knowing how much real good the +exchange of ownership would be to the two young girls. In +return for Rocket, Alice should have Muggins, while for Lulu +she might give what she liked. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven knows," he added, "it is not my nature to hold any +one in bondage, and I shall gladly hail the day which sees the +negro free. But our slaves are our property. Take them from +us and we are ruined wholly. Miss Johnson, do you honestly +believe that one in forty of those Northern abolitionists would +deliberately give up ten—twenty—fifty thousand dollars, just +because the thing valued at that was man and not beast? No, +indeed. Southern people, born and brought up in the midst of +slavery, can't see it as the North does, and there's where the +mischief lies." +</p> + +<p> +He had wandered from Lulu and Muggins to the subject which +then, far more than the North believed, was agitating the Southern +mind. Then they talked of 'Lina, Hugh telling Alice of +her intention to pass the winter with Mrs. Ellsworth, and speaking +also of Irving Stanley. +</p> + +<p> +"By the way, Ad writes that Irving was interested in you, +and you in him," Hugh said, rather abruptly, stealing a glance +at Alice, who answered frankly: +</p> + +<p> +"I can hardly say that I know much of him, though once, +long ago—" +</p> + +<p> +She paused here, and Hugh waited anxiously for what she +would say next. But Alice, changing her mind, only added: +</p> + +<p> +"I esteem Mr. Stanley very highly. He is a gentleman, a +scholar and a Christian." +</p> + +<p> +"You like him better for that, I suppose—better for being a +Christian, I mean," Hugh replied, a little bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, so much better," and reining her horse closer to +Hugh, Alice rode very slowly, while in earnest tones she urged +on Hugh the one great thing he needed. "You are not +offended?" she asked, as he continued silent. +</p> + +<p> +"No, oh, no. I never had any religious teaching, only once; +an angel flitted across my path, leaving a track of glorious +sunshine, but the clouds have been there since, and the sunshine +is most all gone." +</p> + +<p> +Alice knew he referred to the maiden of whose existence Mug +had told her, and she longed to ask him of her. Who was she, +and where was she now? Alas, that she should have been so +deceived, or that Hugh, when she finally did ask, "Who was the +angel that crossed his path?" should answer evasively. +</p> + +<p> +Just before turning into the Spring Bank fields, a horseman +came dashing down the pike, checking his steed a moment as +he drew near, and then, with a savage frown, spurring on his +foam-covered horse, muttering between his teeth a curse on +Hugh Worthington. +</p> + +<p> +"That was Harney?" Alice said, stopping a moment outside +the gate to look after him as he went tearing down the +pike. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that was Harney," Hugh replied. "There's a political +meeting of some kind in Versailles to-day, and I suppose he is +going there to raise his voice with those who are denouncing +the Republicans so bitterly, and threatening vengeance if they +succeed." +</p> + +<p> +"The South will hardly be foolish enough to secede. Why, +the North would crush them at once," returned Alice, still looking +after Harney, as if she knew she were gazing after one destined +to figure conspicuously in the fast approaching rebellion, +his very name a terror and dread to the loyal, peace-loving citizens +of Kentucky. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0029" id="h2HCH0029"></a> + CHAPTER XXIX +</h2> +<h3> + HUGH AND ALICE +</h3> +<p> +Three weeks had passed away since that memorable ride. Mr. +Liston, after paying to the proper recipients the money due for +Mosside, had returned to Boston, leaving the neighborhood to +gossip of Alice's generosity, and to wonder how much she was +worth. It was a secret yet that Lulu and Muggins were hers, +but the story of Rocket was known, and numerous were the +surmises as to what would be the result of her daily, familiar +intercourse with Hugh. Already was the effect of her presence +visible in his improved appearance, his gentleness of manner, +his care to observe all the little points of etiquette never practiced +by him before, and his attention to his own personal +appearance. His trousers were no longer worn inside his boots, +or his soft hat jammed into every conceivable shape, while Ellen +Tiffton, who came often to Spring Bank, and was supposed to +be good authority, pronounced him almost as stylish looking as +any man in Woodford. +</p> + +<p> +To Hugh, Alice was everything, and he did not know himself +how much he loved her, save when he thought of Irving Stanley, +and then the keen, sharp pang of jealous pain which wrung his +heart told him how strong was the love he bore her. And Alice, +in her infatuation concerning the mysterious Golden Hair, did +much to feed the flame. He was to her like a beloved brother; +indeed, she had one day playfully entered into a compact with +him that she should be his sister, and never dreaming of the +mischief she was doing, she treated him with all the familiarity +of a pure, loving sister. It was Alice who rode with him almost +daily. It was Alice who sang his favorite songs. It was Alice +who brought his armchair in the evening when his day's work +was over; Alice who worked his slippers; Alice who brushed his +coat when he was going to town; Alice who sometimes tied his +cravat, standing on tiptoe, with her fair face so fearfully near +to his that all his powers of self-denial were needed to keep from +touching his lips to the smooth brow gleaming so white and fair +before his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the wild thought crossed his mind that possibly +he might win her for himself, but it was repudiated as soon as +formed, and so, between hope and a kind of blissful despair, +blissful so long as Alice stayed with him as she was now, Hugh +lived on, until at last the evening came when Adah was to +leave Spring Bank on the morrow. She had intended going +immediately after the sale at Mosside, but Willie had been +ailing ever since, and that had detained her. Everything which +Alice could do for her had been done. Old Sam, at thoughts +of parting with his little charge, had cried his dim eyes dimmer +yet. Mrs. Worthington, too, had wept herself nearly sick, for +now that the parting drew near she began to feel how dear to +her was the young girl who had come to them so strangely. +</p> + +<p> +"More like a daughter you seem to me," she had said to +Adah, in speaking of her going; "and once I had a wild—" +here she stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished, for she did +not care to tell Adah of the shock it had given her when Hugh +first pointed out to her the faint mark on Adah's forehead. +</p> + +<p> +It was fainter now even than then, for with increasing color +and health it seemed to disappear, and Mrs. Worthington could +scarcely see it, when with a caressing movement of her hand +she put the silken hair back from Adah's brow and kissed the +bluish veins. +</p> + +<p> +"There is none there. It was all a fancy," she murmured +to herself, and then thinking of 'Lina, she said to Adah what +she had all along meant to say, that if the Richards' family +should question her of 'Lina, she was to divulge nothing to her +disparagement, whether she were rich or poor, high or low. +"You must not, of course, tell any untruths. I do not ask that, +but I—oh, I sometimes wish they need not know that you came +from here, as that would save all trouble, and 'Lina is so—so—" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Worthington did not finish the sentence, for Adah instantly +silenced her by answering frankly: +</p> + +<p> +"I do not intend they shall know, not at present certainly." +</p> + +<p> +Adah retired early, as did both Mrs. Worthington and Densie, +for all were unusually tired; only Hugh, as he supposed, was +up, and he sat by the parlor fire where they had passed the +evening. He was very sorry Adah was going, but it was not so +much of her he was thinking as of Alice. Had she dreamed of +his real feelings, she never would have done what she did, but +she was wholly unconscious of it, and so, when, late that night, +she returned to the parlor in quest of something she had left, +and found him sitting there alone, she paused a moment on the +threshold, wondering if she had better join him or go away. His +back was toward her, and he did not hear her light step, so +intently was he gazing into the burning grate, and trying to +frame the words he should say if ever he dared tell Alice Johnson +of his love. +</p> + +<p> +There was much girlish playfulness in Alice's nature, and +sliding across the carpet, she clasped both her hands before his +eyes, and exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"A penny for your thoughts." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh started as suddenly as if some apparition had appeared +before him, and blushing guiltily, clasped and held upon his +face the little soft, warm hands which did not tremble, but lay +still beneath his own. It was Providence which sent her there, +he thought; Providence indicating that he might speak, and he +would. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad you have come. I wish to talk with you," he +said, drawing her down into a chair beside him, and placing his +arm lightly across its back. "What sent you here, Alice? I +supposed you had retired," he continued, bending upon her a +look which made her slightly uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +But she soon recovered, and answered laughingly: +</p> + +<p> +"I, too, supposed you had retired. I came for my scissors, +and finding you here alone, thought I would startle you, but you +have not told me yet of what you were thinking." +</p> + +<p> +"Of the present, past and future," he replied; then, letting +his hand drop from the back of the chair upon her shoulder, he +continued: "May I talk freely with you? May I tell you of +myself, what I was, what I am, what I hope to be?" +</p> + +<p> +Her cheeks burned dreadfully, and her voice was not quite +steady, as, rising from her seat, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"I like a stool better than this chair. I'll bring it and sit at +your feet. There, now I am ready," and seating herself at a +safe distance from him, Alice waited for him to commence. +</p> + +<p> +She grew tired of waiting, and turning her lustrous eyes upon +him, said gently: +</p> + +<p> +"You seem unhappy about something. Is it because Adah +leaves to-morrow? I am sorry, too; sorry for me, sorry for you; +but, Hugh, I will do what I can to fill her place. I will be +the sister you need so much. Don't look so wretched; it makes +me feel badly to see you." +</p> + +<p> +Alice's sympathy was getting the better of her again, and +she moved her stool a little nearer to Hugh, while she involuntarily +laid her hand upon his knee. That decided him; +and while his heart throbbed almost to bursting, he began by +saying: +</p> + +<p> +"I am in rather a gloomy mood to-night, I'll admit. I do +feel Adah's leaving us very much; but that is not all. I have +wished to talk with you a long time—wished to tell you how I +feel. May I, Alice?—may I open to you my whole heart, and +show you what is there?" +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Alice felt a thrill of fear—a dread of what +the opening of his heart to her might disclose. Then she remembered +Golden Hair, whose name she had never heard him +breathe, save as it passed his delirious lips. It was of her he +would talk; he would tell her of that hidden love whose existence +she felt sure was not known at Spring Bank. Alice would +rather not have had this confidence, for the deep love-life of +such as Hugh Worthington seemed to her a sacred thing; but +he looked so white, so careworn, so much as if it would be a +relief, that Alice answered at last: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Hugh, you may tell, and I will listen." +</p> + +<p> +He began by telling Alice first of his early boyhood, uncheered +by a single word of sympathy save as it came from dear +Aunt Eunice, who alone understood the wayward boy whom +people thought so bad. +</p> + +<p> +"Even she did not quite understand me," he said; "she did +not dream of that hidden recess in my heart which yearned so +terribly for a human love—for something or somebody to check +the evil passions so rapidly gaining the ascendant. Neither did +she know how often, in the silent night, the boy they thought +so flinty, so averse to womankind, wept for the love he had no +hope of gaining. +</p> + +<p> +"Then mother and Ad came to Spring Bank, and that opened +to me a new era. In my odd way, I loved my mother so much—so +much; but Ad—say, Alice, is it wicked in me if I can't +love Ad?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is your sister," was Alice's reply; and Hugh rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—my sister. I'm sorry for it, even, if it's wicked to be +sorry. She gave me back only scorn and bitter words, until my +heart closed up against her, and I harshly judged all others by +her—all but one!" and Hugh's voice grew very low and tender +in its tone, while Alice felt that now he was nearing the Golden +Hair. +</p> + +<p> +"Away off in New England, among the Yankee hills, there +was a pure, white blossom growing; a blossom so pure, so fair, +that few, very few, were worthy even so much as to look upon +it, as day by day it unfolded some new beauty. There was +nothing to support this flower but a single frail parent stalk, +which snapped asunder one day, and Blossom was left alone. +It was a strange idea, transplanting it to another soil; for the +atmosphere of Spring Bank was not suited to such as she. But +she came, and, as by magic, the whole atmosphere was changed—changed +at least to one—the bad, wayward Hugh, who dared +to love this fair young girl with a love stronger than his life. +For her he would do anything, and beneath her influence he did +improve rapidly. He was conscious of it himself—conscious of +a greater degree of self-respect—a desire to be what she would +like to have him. +</p> + +<p> +"She was very, very beautiful; more so than anything Hugh +had ever looked upon. Her face was like an angel's face, and +her hair—much like yours, Alice;" and he laid his hand on +the bright head, now bent down, so that he could not see that +face so like an angel's. +</p> + +<p> +The little hand, too, had slid from his knee, and, fastlocked +within the other, was buried in Alice's lap, as she listened with +throbbing heart to the story Hugh was telling. +</p> + +<p> +"In all the world there was nothing so dear to Hugh as this +young girl. He thought of her by day and dreamed of her by +night, seeing always in the darkness her face, with its eyes of +blue bending over him—hearing the music of her voice, like +the falling of distant water, and even feeling the soft touch of +her hands as he fancied them laid upon his brow. She was +good, too, as beautiful; and it was this very goodness which +won on Hugh so fast, making him pray often that he might +be worthy of her—for, Alice, he came at last to dream that he +could win her; she was so kind to him—she spoke to him so +softly, and, by a thousand little acts, endearing herself to him +more and more. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven forgive her if she misled him all this while; but +she did not. It were worse than death to think she did—to +know I've told you this in vain—have offered you my heart only +to have it thrust back upon me as something you do not want. +Speak, Alice! in mercy, speak! Can it be that I'm mistaken?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice saw how she had unwittingly led him on, and her white +lips quivered with pain. Lifting up her head at last, she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"You don't mean me, Hugh! Oh, you don't mean me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, darling," and he clasped in his own the hand raised +imploringly toward him. "Yes, darling, I mean you. Will you +be my wife?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice had never before heard a voice so earnest, so full of +meaning, as the one now pleading with her to be what she could +not be. She must do something, and sliding from her stool she +sank upon her knees—her proper attitude—upon her knees before +Hugh, whom she had wronged so terribly, and burying her +face in Hugh's own hands, she sobbed: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Hugh, Hugh! you don't know what you ask. I love +you dearly, but only as my brother—believe me, Hugh, only as +a brother. I wanted one so much—one of my own, I mean; but +God denied that wish, and gave me you instead. I'm sorry I +ever came here, but I cannot go away. I've learned to love my +Kentucky home. Let me stay just the same. Let me really be +what I thought I was, your sister. You will not send me +away?" +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him now, but quickly turned away, for the +expression of his white, haggard face was more than she could +bear, and she knew there was a pang, keener even than any she +had felt, a pang which must be terrible, to crush a strong man +as Hugh was crushed. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, Hugh," she said, as he did not speak, but sat +gazing at her in a kind of stunned bewilderment. "You would +not have me for your wife, if I did not love you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never, Alice, never!" he answered. "But it is not any +easier to bear. I don't know why I asked you, why I dared hope +that you could think of me. I might have known you could not. +Nobody does. I cannot win their love. I don't know how." +</p> + +<p> +Alice neither looked up nor moved, only sobbed piteously, and +this more than aught else helped Hugh to choke down his own +sorrow for the sake of comforting her. The sight of her distress +moved him greatly, for he knew it was grief that she had so +cruelly misled him. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, darling," he said again, this time as a mother would +soothe her child. "Alice, darling, it hurts me more to see you +thus than your refusal did. I am not wholly selfish in my love. +I'd rather you should be happy than to be happy myself. I +would not for the world take to my bosom an unwilling wife. I +should be jealous even of my own caresses, jealous lest the very +act disgusted her more and more. You did not mean to deceive +me. It was I that deceived myself. I forgive you fully, and ask +you to forget that to-night has ever been. It cut me sorely at +first, Alice, to hear you tell me so, but I shall get over it; the +wound will heal." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Hugh, don't; you break my heart. I'd rather you should +scorn, or even hate me, for the sorrow I have brought. Such +unselfish kindness will kill me," Alice sobbed, for never had +she been so touched as by this insight into the real character +of the man she had refused. +</p> + +<p> +He would not hold her long in his arms, though it were bliss +to do so, and putting her gently in the chair, he leaned his own +poor sick head upon the mantel, while Alice watched him with +streaming eyes and an aching heart, which even then half longed +to give itself into his keeping. At last it was her turn to speak, +hers the task to comfort. The prayer she had inwardly breathed +for guidance to act aright had not been unheard, and with a +strange calmness she arose, and laying her hand on Hugh's arm, +bade him be seated, while she told him what she had to say. +He obeyed her, sinking into the offered chair, and then standing +before him, she began: +</p> + +<p> +"You do not wish me to go away, you say. I have no desire +to go, except it should be better for you. Even though I may +not be your wife, I can, perhaps, minister to your happiness; +and, Hugh, we will forget to-night, forget what has occurred, +and be to each other what we were before, brother and sister. +There must be no particular perceptible change of manner, lest +others should suspect what has passed between us. Do you +agree to this?" +</p> + +<p> +He bowed his head, and Alice drew a step nearer to him, +hesitating a moment ere she continued: +</p> + +<p> +"You speak of a rival. I do not know that you have one. +Sure it is I am bound to no one by any pledge, or promise, or +tie, unless it be a tie of gratitude." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh glanced up quickly now, and the words, "You are +mistaken; it was not Irving Stanley," trembled on his lips, but +his strong will fought them back, and Alice went on. +</p> + +<p> +"I will be frank with you, and say that I have seen one who +pleased me, both for the noble qualities he possessed, and because +I had thought so much of meeting him, of expressing to +him my thanks for a great favor done when I was only a child. +There's a look in your face like his; you remind me of him +often; and, Hugh—" the little hand pressed more closely on +Hugh's shoulder, while Alice's breath came heavily, "And, +Hugh, it may be, that in time I can conscientiously give you a +different answer from what I did to-night. I may love as your +wife should love you; and—and, Hugh, if I do, I'll tell you so +at the proper time." +</p> + +<p> +There was a gleam of sunshine now to illumine the thick +darkness, and, in the first moments of his joy Hugh wound his +arm around the slight form, and tried to bring it nearer to him. +But Alice stepped back and answered: +</p> + +<p> +"No, Hugh, that would be wrong. It may be I shall never +come to love you save as I love you now, but I'll try—I will +try," and unmindful of her charge to him, Alice parted the +damp curls clustering around his forehead, and looked into his +face with an expression which made his heart bound and throb +with the sudden hope that even now she loved him better than +she supposed. +</p> + +<p> +It was growing very late, and the clock in the adjoining room +struck one ere Alice bade Hugh good-night, saying to him: +</p> + +<p> +"No one must know of this. We'll be just the same to each +other as we have been." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, just the same, if that can be," Hugh answered, and +so they parted. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0030" id="h2HCH0030"></a> + CHAPTER XXX +</h2> +<h3> + ADAH'S JOURNEY +</h3> +<p> +The night express from Rochester to Albany was crowded. +Every car was full, or seemed to be, and the clamorous bell rang +out its first summons for all to get on board, just as a pale, +frightened-looking woman, bearing in her slender arms a sleeping +boy, whose little face showed signs of suffering, stepped upon +the platform of the rear carriage, and looked wistfully in at the +long, dark line of passengers filling every seat. Wearily, anxiously, +she had passed through every car, beginning at the first, +her tired eyes scanning each occupant, as if mutely begging +some one to have pity on her ere exhausted nature failed entirely, +and she sank fainting to the floor. None had heeded that +silent appeal, though many had marked the pallor of her girlish +face, and the extreme beauty of the baby features nestling in +her bosom. She could not hold out much longer, and when she +reached the last car and saw that, too, was full, the delicate +chin quivered perceptibly, and a tear glistened in the long eyelashes, +sweeping the colorless cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly she passed up the aisle until she came to where there +was indeed a vacant seat, only a gentleman's shawl was piled +upon it, and he, the gentleman, looking so unconcernedly from +the window, and apparently oblivious of her close proximity to +him, would not surely object to her sitting there. How the tired +woman did wish he would turn toward her, would give some +token that she was welcome, would remove his heavy plaid, and +say to her courteously, "Sit here, madam." But no, his eyes +were only intent on the darkness without; he had no care for +her, Adah, though he knew she was there. +</p> + +<p> +The oil lamp was burning dimly, and the girl's white face was +lost in the shadow, when the young man first glanced at her, +so he had no suspicion of the truth, though a most indefinable +sensation crept over him as he heard the timid footfall, and the +rustling of female garments as Adah Hastings drew near with +her boy in her arms. He knew she stopped before him; he +knew, too, why she stopped, and for a brief instant his better +nature bade him be a man and offer her what he knew she +wanted. But only for an instant, and then his selfishness prevailed. +"He would not seem to see her, he would not be bothered +by a woman with a brat. If there was anything he hated it +was a woman traveling with a young one, a squalling young one. +They would never catch his wife, when he had one, doing a +thing so unladylike. A car was no place for children. He +hated the whole of them." +</p> + +<p> +Adah passed on, her weary sigh falling distinctly on his ear, +but falling to awaken a feeling of remorse for his unmanly +conduct. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad she's gone. I can't be bothered," was his mental +comment as he settled himself more comfortably, feeling a glow +of satisfaction when the train began to move, and he knew no +more women with their babies would be likely to trouble him. +</p> + +<p> +With that first heavy strain of the machinery Adah lost her +balance, and would have fallen headlong but for the friendly +hand put forth to save the fall. +</p> + +<p> +"Take my seat, miss. It is not very convenient, but it is +better than none. I can find another." +</p> + +<p> +It was the friendliest voice imaginable which said these words +to Adah, and the kind tone in which they were uttered wrung +the hot tears at once from her eyes. She did not look up at +him. She only knew that some one, a gentleman, had arisen +and was bending over her; that a hand, large, white and warm, +was laid upon her shoulder, putting her gently into the narrow +seat next the saloon; that the same hand took from her and +hung above her head the little satchel which was so much in +her way, and that the manly voice, so sympathetic in its tone, +asked if she would be too warm so near the fire. +</p> + +<p> +She did not know there was a fire. She only knew that she +had found a friend, and with the delicious feeling of safety +which the knowledge brought, the tension of her nerves gave +way, and burying her head on Willie's face she wept for a +moment silently. Then, lifting it up, she tried to thank her +benefactor, looking now at him for the first time, and feeling +half overawed to find him so tall, so stylish, so exceedingly refined +and aristocratic in every look and action. +</p> + +<p> +Irving Stanley was a passenger on that train, bound for Albany. +Like Dr. Richards, he had hoped to enjoy a whole seat, +even though it were not a very comfortable one, but when he +saw how pale and tired Adah was, he arose at once to offer his +seat. He heard her sweet, low voice as she tried to thank +him. He saw, too, the little, soft, white hands, holding so fast +to Willie. Was he her brother or her son? She was young to +be his mother. Perhaps she was his sister; but, no, there was +no mistaking the mother-love shining out from the brown eyes +turned so quickly upon the boy when he moaned, as if in pain, +and seemed about to waken. +</p> + +<p> +"He's been sick most all the way," she said. "There's something +the matter with his ear, I think, as he complains of that. +Do children ever die with the earache?" +</p> + +<p> +Irving Stanley hardly thought they did. At all events, he +never heard of such a case, and then, after suggesting a remedy, +should the pain return, he left his new acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +"A part of your seat, sir, if you please," and Irving's voice +was rather authoritative than otherwise, as he claimed the half +of what the doctor was monopolizing. +</p> + +<p> +It was of no use for Dr. Richards to pretend he was asleep, +for Irving spoke so like a man who knew what he was doing, that +the doctor was compelled to yield, and turning about, recognized +his Saratoga acquaintance. The recognition was mutual, and +after a few natural remarks, Irving explained how he had given +his seat to a lady, who seemed ready to drop with fatigue and +anxiety concerning her little child, who was suffering from the +earache. +</p> + +<p> +"By the way, doctor," he added, "you ought to know the +remedy for such ailments. Suppose you prescribe in case it +returns. I do pity that young woman." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Richards stared at him in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"I know but little about babies or their aches," he answered +at last, just as a scream of pain reached his ear, accompanied +by a suppressed effort on the mother's part to soothe her suffering +child. +</p> + +<p> +The pain must have been intolerable, for the little fellow, in +his agony, writhed from Adah's lap and sank upon the floor, +his waxen hand pressed convulsively to his ear, and his whole +form quivering with anguish as he cried, "Oh, ma! ma! ma! +ma!" +</p> + +<p> +The hardest heart could scarce withstand that scene, and +many now gathered near, offering advice and help, while even +Dr. Richards turned toward the group gathering by the door, +experiencing a most unaccountable sensation as that baby cry +smote on his ear. Foremost among those who offered aid was +Irving Stanley. His was the voice which breathed comfort to +the weeping Adah, his the hand extended to take up little +Willie, his the arms which held and soothed the struggling boy, +his the mind which thought of everything available that could +possibly bring ease. +</p> + +<p> +"Who'll give me a cigar? I do not use them myself. Ask +him," he said, pointing to the doctor, who mechanically took a +fine Havana from the case and half-grudgingly handed it to the +lady, who hurried back with it to Irving Stanley. +</p> + +<p> +To break it up and place it in Willie's ear was the work of +a moment, and ere long the fierce outcries ceased as Willie +grew easier and lay quietly in Irving Stanley's arms. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll take him now," and Adah put out her hands; but Willie +refused to go, and clung closer to Mr. Stanley, who said, laughingly: +"You see that I am preferred. He is too heavy for you +to hold. Please trust him to me, while you get the rest you +need." +</p> + +<p> +And Adah yielded to that voice as if it were one which had +a right to say what she must do, and leaning back against the +window, rested her tired head upon her hand, while Irving carried +Willie to his seat beside the doctor! There was a slight +sneer on the doctor's face as he saw the little boy. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't like children, I reckon," Irving said, as the doctor +drew back from the little feet which unconsciously touched his +lap. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I hate them," was the answer, spoken half-savagely, for +at that moment a tiny hand was deliberately laid on his, as +Willie showed a disposition to be friendly. "I hate them," and +the little hand was pushed rudely off. +</p> + +<p> +Wonderingly the soft, large eyes of the child looked up to his. +Something in their expression riveted the doctor's gaze as by a +spell. There were tears in the baby's eyes, and the pretty lip +began to quiver at the harsh indignity. The doctor's finer feelings, +if he had any, were touched, and muttering to himself, +"I'm a brute," he slouched his riding cap still lower down upon +his forehead, and turning away to the window, relapsed into a +gloomy reverie. +</p> + +<p> +As they drew near to Albany, another piercing shriek from +Willie arose even above the noise of the train. The paroxysms +of pain had returned with such severity that the poor infant's +face became a livid purple, while Adah's tears dropped upon it +like rain. Again the sympathetic women gathered around, again +Dr. Richards, aroused from his uneasy sleep, muttered invectives +against children in general and this one in particular, +while again Irving Stanley hastened to the rescue, his the ruling +mind which overmastered the others, planning what should be +done, and seeing that his plans were executed. +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot go on this morning. Your little boy must have +rest and medical advice," he said to Adah, when at last the +train stopped in Albany. "I have a few moments to spare. I +will see that you are comfortable. You are going to Snowdon, +I think you said. There is an acquaintance of mine on board +who is also bound for Snowdon. I might—" +</p> + +<p> +Irving Stanley paused here, for certain doubts arose in his +mind, touching the doctor's willingness to be troubled with +strangers. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I'd rather go on alone," Adah exclaimed, as she guessed +what he had intended saying. +</p> + +<p> +"It's quite as well, I reckon," was Mr. Stanley's reply, and +taking Willie in his arms, he conducted Adah to the nearest +hotel. +</p> + +<p> +"If you please, you will not engage a very expensive room +for me. I can't afford it," Adah said, timidly, as she followed +her conductor into the parlor of the Delavan. +</p> + +<p> +She was poor, then. Irving would hardly have guessed it +from her appearance, but this frank avowal which many would +not have made, only increased his respect for her, while he +wished so much that she might have one of the handsome sitting-rooms, +of whose locality he knew so well. +</p> + +<p> +It was a cozy, pleasant little chamber into which she was +finally ushered, too nice, Adah feared, half trembling for the +bill when she should ask for it, and never dreaming that just +one-half the price had been paid by Irving, whose kind heart +prompted him to the generous act. +</p> + +<p> +There were but a few moments now ere he must leave, and +standing by her side, with her little hand in his, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"The meeting with you has been to me a pleasant incident, +and I shall not soon forget it. I trust we may meet again. +There is my card. I am acquainted North, South, East and +West. Perhaps I know your husband. You have one?" he +added quickly, as he saw the hot blood stain her face and neck +to a most unnatural color. +</p> + +<p> +He had not the remotest suspicion that she had never been +a wife; he only thought from her agitation that she possibly +was a widow, and unconsciously to himself the idea was fraught +with a vague feeling of gladness, for, to most men, it is pleasanter +knowing they have been polite to a pretty girl, or even +a pretty widow, than to a wife, whose lord might object, and +Irving was not an exception. Was she a widow, and had he +unwittingly touched the half-healed wound? He wished he +knew, and he stood waiting for her answer to his question, "You +have a husband?" +</p> + +<p> +At a glance Adah had read the name upon the card, knowing +now who had befriended her. It was Irving Stanley, Augusta's +brother, second cousin to Hugh, and 'Lina was with his sister in +New York. He was going there, he might speak of her, and if +she told her name, her miserable story would be known to more +than it was already. It was a false pride which kept Adah +silent when she knew that Irving Stanley was waiting for her +to speak, wondering at her agitated manner. He was looking +at her eyes, her large brown eyes, which dared not meet his, and +as he looked a terrible suspicion crept over him. Involuntarily +he felt for her third finger. It was ringless, and he dropped it +suddenly, but with a feeling that he might be unjust, that all +were not of his church and creed, he took it again, and said his +parting words. Then, turning to Willie, he smoothed the silken +curls, praised the beauty of the sleeping child, and left the +room. +</p> + +<p> +Adah knew that he was gone, that she should not see him +again, and that, at the very last, there had arisen some misunderstanding, +she hardly knew what, for the shock of finding +who he was had prevented her from fully comprehending the +fact that he had asked her for her husband. She never dreamed +of the suspicion which, for an instant, had a lodgment in his +breast, or she would almost have died where she stood, gazing +at the door through which he had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +"I ought to have told him my name, but I could not," she +sighed, as the sound of his rapid footsteps died upon the +stairs. +</p> + +<p> +They ceased at last, and with a feeling of utter desolation, +as if she were now indeed alone, Adah sank upon her knees, and +covering her face with her hands, wept bitterly. Anon, however, +holier, calmer feelings swept over her. She was not +alone. They who love God can never be alone, however black +the darkness be around them. And Adah did love Him, thanking +Him at last for raising her up this friend in her sore need, +for putting it into Irving Stanley's heart to care for her, a +stranger, as he had done. And as she prayed, the wish arose +that George had been, more like him. He would not then have +deserted her, she sobbed, while again her lips breathed a prayer +for Irving Stanley, thoughts of whom even then made her once +broken heart beat as she had never expected it to beat again. +</p> + +<p> +So absorbed was Adah that she did not hear the returning +footsteps as Irving came across the hall. He had remembered +some directions he would give her, and at the risk of being left, +had come back a moment. She did not hear the turning of the +knob, the opening of the door, or know that he for whom she +prayed was standing so near to her that he heard distinctly what +she said, kneeling there by the chair where he had sat, her fair +head bent down and her face concealed from view. +</p> + +<p> +"God in heaven bless and keep the noble Irving Stanley." +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +In the office below, Dr. Richards, who had purposely stopped +for the day in Albany, smoked his expensive cigars, ordered +oysters and wine sent to his room—the very one adjoining +Adah's—made two or three calls, wrote an explanatory note to +'Lina—feeling half tempted to leave out the "Dear," with which +he felt constrained to preface it—thought again of Lily—poor +Lily, as he always called her—thought once of the strange +woman and the little boy, in whom Irving Stanley had been so +interested, wondered where they were going, and who it was the +boy looked a little like—thought somehow of Anna in connection +with that boy; and then, late in the afternoon, sauntered +down to the Boston depot, and took his seat in the car, which, +at about ten o'clock that night would deposit him at Snowdon. +There were no "squalling brats" to disturb him, for Adah, unconscious +of his proximity, was in the rear car—pale, weary, +and nervous with the dread which her near approach to Terrace +Hill inspired. What, if after all, Anna, should not want her? +And this was a possible contingency, notwithstanding Alice had +been no sanguine. +</p> + +<p> +Darkly the December night closed in, and still the train kept +on, until at last Danville was reached, and she must alight, +as the express did not stop again until it reached Worcester. +With a chill sense of loneliness, and a vague, confused wish for +the one cheering voice which had greeted her ear since leaving +Spring Bank, Adah stood upon the snow-covered platform, holding +Willie in her arms, and pointing out her trunk to the civil +baggage man, who, in answer to her inquiries as to the best +means of reaching Terrace Hill, replied: "You can't go there +to-night; it is too late. You'll have to stay in the tavern kept +right over the depot, though if you'd kept on the train there +might have been a chance, for I see the young Dr. Richards +aboard; and as he didn't get out, I guess he's coaxed or hired +the conductor to leave him at Snowdon." +</p> + +<p> +The baggage man was right in his conjecture, for the doctor +had persuaded the polite conductor, whom he knew personally, +to stop the train at Snowdon; and while Adah, shivering with +cold, found her way up the narrow stairs into the rather comfortless +quarters where she must spend the night, the doctor +was kicking the snow from his feet and talking to Jim, the +coachman from Terrace Hill. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0031" id="h2HCH0031"></a> + CHAPTER XXXI +</h2> +<h3> + THE CONVICT +</h3> +<p> +It was a sad morning at Spring Bank, that morning of Adah's +leaving, and many a tear was shed as the last good-by was spoken. +Mrs. Worthington, Alice and Hugh accompanied Adah to +Frankfort, and Alice had never seemed in better spirits than on +that winter's morning. She would be gay; it was a duty she +owed Hugh, and Adah, too. So she talked and laughed as if +there was no load upon her heart, and no cloud on Adah's spirits. +Outwardly Mrs. Worthington suffered most, wondering why she +should cling so to Adah, and why this parting was so painful. +All the farewell words had been spoken, for Adah would not +leave them to the chance of a last moment. She seemed almost +too pretty to send on that long journey alone, and Hugh felt that +he might be doing wrong in suffering her to depart without an +escort. But Adah only laughed at his fears. Willie was her +protector, she said, and then, as the train came up she turned +to Mrs. Worthington, who, haunted with the dread lest something +should happen to prevent 'Lina's marriage, said softly: +</p> + +<p> +"You'll be careful about 'Lina?" +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Adah would be careful, and to Alice she whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"I'll write after I get there, but you must not answer it at +least not till I say you may. Good-by." +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +"Come, mother, we are waiting for you," Hugh said. +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of Hugh's voice she started and replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, I remember—we are to visit the penitentiary. Dear +me," and in a kind of absent way, Mrs. Worthington took +Hugh's arm, and the party proceeded on their way to the huge +building known as the Frankfort Penitentiary. Hugh was well +acquainted with the keeper, who admitted them cheerfully, and +ushered them at once into the spacious yard. +</p> + +<p> +Pleased with Alice's enthusiastic interest in everything he +said, the keeper was quite communicative, pointing out the cells +of any noted felons, repeating little incidents of daring attempts +to escape, and making the visit far more entertaining than the +party had expected. +</p> + +<p> +"This," he said, opening a narrow door, "this belongs to the +negro stealer, Sullivan. You know him, Mrs. Worthington. He +ran off the old darky you now own, old Sam, I mean." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like to see Mr. Sullivan," Alice said. "I saw old Sam +when he was in Virginia." +</p> + +<p> +"We'll find him on the ropewalk. We put our hardest customers +there. Not that he gives us trouble, for he does not, +and I rather like the chap, but we have a spite against these +Yankee negro stealers," was the keeper's reply, as he led the way +to the long low room, where groups of men walked up and +down—up and down—holding the long line of hemp, which, as +far as they were concerned, would never come to an end until +the day of their release. +</p> + +<p> +"That's he," the keeper whispered to Alice, who had fallen +behind Hugh and his mother. "That's he, just turning this +way—the one to the right." +</p> + +<p> +Alice nodded in token that she understood, and then stood +watching while he came up. Mrs. Worthington and Hugh were +watching too, not him particularly, for they did not even know +which was Sullivan, but stood waiting for the whole long line +advancing slowly toward them, their eyes cast down with conscious +shame, as if they shrank from being seen. One of +them, however, was wholly unabashed. He thought it probable +the keeper would point him out; he knew they used to do so +when he first came there, but he did not care; he rather liked +the notoriety, and when he saw that Alice seemed waiting for +him, he fixed his keen eyes on her, starting at the sight of so +much beauty, end never even glancing at the other visitors, at +Mrs. Worthington and Hugh, who, a little apart from each +other, saw him at the same moment, both turning cold and +faint, the one with surprise, and the other with a horrid, terrible +fear. +</p> + +<p> +It needed but a glance to assure Hugh that he stood in the +presence of the man who with strangely winning powers had +tempted him to sin—the villain who had planned poor Adah's +marriage—Monroe, her guardian, whose sudden disappearance +had been so mysterious. Hugh never knew how he controlled +himself from leaping into that walk and compelling the bold +wretch to tell if he knew aught of the base deserter, Willie +Hastings' father. He did, indeed, take one forward step while +his fist clinched involuntarily, but the next moment fell powerless +at his side as a low wail of pain reached his ear and he +turned in time to save his fainting mother from falling to the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +She, too, had seen the ropemaker, glancing at him twice ere +sure she saw aright, and then, as if a corpse buried years ago +had arisen to her view, the blood curdled about her heart which +after one mighty throe lay heavy and still as lead. He was +not dead; that paragraph in the paper telling her so was false; +he did not die, such as he could not die; he was alive—alive—a +convict within those prison walls; a living, breathing man +with that same look she remembered so well, shuddering as she +remembered it, 'Lina's father and her own husband! +</p> + +<p> +"It was the heat, or the smell, or the parting with Adah, or +something," she said, when she came back to consciousness, +eagerly scanning Hugh's face to see if he knew too, and then +glancing timidly around as if in quest of the phantom which +had so affected her. +</p> + +<p> +"Let's go home, I'm sorry I came to Frankfort," she whispered, +while her teeth chattered and her eyes wore a look of +terror for which Hugh could not account. +</p> + +<p> +He never thought of associating her illness with the man who +had so affected himself. It was overexertion, he said. His +mother could not bear much, and with all the tenderness of an +affectionate son he wrapped her shawl about her and led her +gantry from the spot which held for her so great a terror. It +was not physical fear; she had never been afraid of bodily harm, +even when fully in his power. It was rather the olden horror +stealing back upon her, the pain which comes from the slow +grinding out of one's entire will and spirit. She had forgotten +the feeling, it was so long since it had been experienced, but +one sight of him brought it back, and all the way from Frankfort +to Spring Bank she lay upon Hugh's shoulder quiet, but +sick and faint, with a shrinking from what the future might +possibly have in store for her. +</p> + +<p> +In this state of mind she reached Spring Bank, where by some +strange coincidence, if coincidence it can be called, old Densie +Densmore was the first to greet her, asking, with much concern, +what was the matter. It was a rare thing for Densie to be at all +demonstrative, but in the suffering expression of Mrs. Worthington's +face she recognized something familiar, and attached herself +at once to the weak, nervous woman, who sought her bed, +and burying her face in the pillow cried herself to sleep, while +Densie, like some white-haired ghost, sat watching her silently. +</p> + +<p> +"The poor thing has had trouble," she whispered, "trouble +in her day, and it has left deep furrows in her forehead, but it +cannot have been like mine. She surely, was never betrayed, or +deserted, or had her only child stolen from her. The wretch! +I cursed him once, when my heart was harder than it is now. +I have forgiven him since, for well as I could, I loved him." +</p> + +<p> +There was a moaning sound in the winter wind howling about +Spring Bank that night, but it suited Densie's mood, and helped +to quiet her spirits, as, until a late hour, she sat by Mrs. Worthington, +who aroused up at intervals, saying, in answer to Densie's +inquiries, she was not sick, she was only tired—that sleep +would do her good. +</p> + +<p> +And while they were thus together a convict sought his darkened +cell and laid him down to rest upon the narrow couch +which had been his bed so long. Drearily to him the morning +broke, and with the struggling in of the daylight he found upon +his floor the handkerchief dropped inadvertently by Mrs. Worthington, +and unseen till now. He knew it was not unusual for +strangers to visit the cells, and so he readily guessed how it +came there, holding it a little more to the light to see the name +written so plainly upon it. +</p> + +<p> +"Eliza Worthington." That was what the convict read, a blur +before his eyes, and a strange sensation at his heart. "Eliza +Worthington." +</p> + +<p> +How came she there, and when? Suddenly he remembered the +event of yesterday, the woman who fainted, the tall man who +carried her out, the beautiful girl who had looked at him so +pityingly, and then, while every nerve quivered with intense +excitement, he whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"That was my wife! I did not see her face, but she saw me, +fainting at the sight." +</p> + +<p> +Hard, and villainous, and sinful as that man had been, there +was a tender chord beneath the villain exterior, and it quivered +painfully as he said "fainted at the sight." This was the keenest +pang of the whole, for as Densie Densmore had moaned the +previous night, "I loved him once," so he now, rocking to and +fro on his narrow bed, with that handkerchief pressed to his +throbbing heart, murmured hoarsely: +</p> + +<p> +"I loved Eliza once, though she would not believe it." +</p> + +<p> +Then the image of the young man and the girl came up before +him, making him start again, for he guessed that man was Hugh, +his stepson, while the girl—oh, could that beautiful creature—be—his—daughter! +</p> + +<p> +"Not Adaline, assuredly," he whispered, "nor Adah, my poor +darling Adah. Oh, where is she this morning? I did love +Adah," and the convict moistened Eliza Worthington's handkerchief +with the tears he shed for sweet Adah Hastings. +</p> + +<p> +Outwardly, that day the so-called Sullivan was the same, as +he paced up and down the walk, but never since first he began +the weary march, had his brain been the seat of thoughts so +tumultuous as those stirring within him, the day succeeding +Mrs. Worthington's visit. Where were his victims now? Were +they all alive? And would he meet them yet? Would Eliza +Worthington ever come there again, or Hugh, and would he see +them if they did? Perhaps not, but some time, a few months +hence, he would find them, would find Hugh at least, and ask +if he knew aught of Adah—Adah, more terribly wronged than +even the wife had been. +</p> + +<p> +And while he thus resolved, poor Mrs. Worthington at home +moved nervously around the house, casting uneasy glances backward, +forward, and sideways, as if she were expecting some +goblin shape to rise suddenly before her and claim her for its +own. They were wretched, uneasy days which followed that visit +to Frankfort—days of racking headache to Mrs. Worthington, +and days of anxious thought to Hugh, who thus was led in a +measure to forget the pain he would otherwise have felt at the +memory of Alice's refusal. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0032" id="h2HCH0032"></a> + CHAPTER XXXII +</h2> +<h3> + ADAH AT TERRACE HILL +</h3> +<p> +The next morning was cold and frosty, as winter mornings +in New England are wont to be, and Adah, accustomed to the +more genial climate of Kentucky, shivered involuntarily as from +her uncurtained window she looked out upon the bare woods and +the frozen fields covered with the snow of yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +Across the track, near to a dilapidated board fence, a family +carriage was standing, the driver unnecessarily, as it seemed +to Adah—holding the heads of the horses, who neither sheered +nor jumped, nor gave other tokens that they feared the hissing +engine. She had not seen that carriage when it drove up before +the door, nor yet the young man who had alighted from it; but +as she stood there, a loud laugh reached her ear, making her +start suddenly, it was so like his—like George's. +</p> + +<p> +"It could not be George," she said; that were impossible, and +yet she crept softly out into the hall, and leaning over the banister, +listened eagerly to the sounds from the room below, where +a crowd of men were assembled. +</p> + +<p> +The laugh was not repeated, and with a dim feeling of disappointment +she went back to the window where on Willie's +neck she wept the tears which always flowed when she thought +of George's desertion. There was a knock at the door, and the +baggageman appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"If you please, ma'am," he began, "the Terrace Hill carriage +is here. I told the driver how't you wanted to go there. +Shall I give him your trunk?" +</p> + +<p> +Adah answered in the affirmative, and then hastened to wrap +up Willie, glancing again at the carriage, which, now that it +was associated with the gentle Anna, looked far better to her +than it had at first. She was ready in a moment and descended +to the room where Jim, the driver, stood waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +"A lady," was his mental comment, and with as much politeness +as if she had been Madam Richards herself, he opened the +carriage door and held Willie while she entered, asking if she +were comfortable, and peering a little curiously in Willie's face, +which puzzled him somewhat. "A near connection, I guess, and +mighty pretty too. Them old maids will raise hob with the boy,—nice +little shaver," thought the kind-hearted Jim. +</p> + +<p> +Once, as Adah caught his good-humored eye, she ventured to +say to him: +</p> + +<p> +"Has Miss Anna procured a waiting maid yet?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a comical gleam in Jim's eye now, for Adah was +not the first applicant he had taken up to Terrace Hill. He +never suspected that this was Adah's business, and he answered +frankly: +</p> + +<p> +"No, that's about played out. Madam turned the last one out +doors." +</p> + +<p> +"Turned her out doors?" and Adah's face was as white as the +snow rifts they were passing. +</p> + +<p> +The driver felt that he had gossiped too much, and relapsed +into silence, while Adah, in a paroxysm of terror, sat with +clasped hands and closed eyes. Leaning forward, at last she +said, huskily: +</p> + +<p> +"Driver, driver, do you think she'll turn me off, too?" +</p> + +<p> +"Turn you off!" and in his surprise at the sudden suspicion +which for the first time darted across his mind, Jim brought +his horses to a full stop, while he held a parley with the pale, +frightened creature, asking so eagerly if Mrs. Richards would +turn her off. "Why should she? You ain't going there for +that, be you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not to be turned out of doors, no," Adah answered; "but I—I—I +want that place so much. I read Miss Anna's advertisement; +but please turn back, or let me get out and walk. I can't +go there now. Is Miss Anna like the rest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Anna's an angel," he answered. "If you get her ear, +you're all right; the plague is to get it with them two she-cats +ready to tear your eyes out. If I'se you, I'd ask to see her. I +wouldn't tell my arrent either, till I did. She's sick upstairs; +but I'll see if Pamely can't manage it. That's my woman—Pamely; +been mine for four years, and we've had two pair of +twins, all dead; so I feel tender toward the little ones," and +Jim glanced kindly at Willie, who had succeeded in making +Adah notice the house standing out so prominently against the +winter sky, and looking to the poor woman-girl more like a +prison than a home. +</p> + +<p> +It might be pleasant there in the summer, Adah thought; but +now, with snow on the roof, snow on the walk, snow on the +trees, snow everywhere, it presented a cheerless aspect. Only +one part of it seemed inviting—the two crimson-curtained windows +opening upon a veranda, from which a flight of steps led +down into what must be a flower garden. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Anna's room," the driver said, pointing toward it; and +Adah looked wistfully out, vainly hoping for a glimpse of the +sweet face she had in her mind as Anna's. +</p> + +<p> +But only Asenath's grim, angular visage was seen, as it +looked from Anna's window, wondering whom Jim could be +bringing home. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a handsome trunk—covered, too. Can it be Lottie?" and +mentally hoping it was not, she busied herself again with bathing +poor Anna's head, which was aching sadly to-day, owing to the +excitement of her brother's visit and the harsh words which +passed between him and his sisters, he telling them, jokingly at +first, that he was tired of getting married, and half resolved to +give it up; while they, in return, had abused him for fickleness, +taunted him with their poverty, and sharply reproached him +for his unwillingness to lighten their burden, by taking a rich +wife when he could get one. +</p> + +<p> +All this John had repeated to Anna in the dim twilight of +the morning, as he stood by her bedside to bid her good-by; and +she, as usual, had soothed him into quiet, speaking kindly of +his bride-elect, and saying she should like her. +</p> + +<p> +He had not told her all of Lily's story, as he meant to do. +There was no necessity for that, for the matter was fixed. 'Lina +should be his wife, and he need not trouble Anna further; so he +had bidden her adieu, and was gone again, the carriage which +bore him away bringing back Adah and her boy. +</p> + +<p> +Jim opened the wide door for her, and showing her first into +the parlor, but finding that dark and cold, he ushered her next +into a little reception-room, where the Misses Richards received +their morning calls. +</p> + +<p> +Willie seemed perfectly at home, seating himself upon a +little stool, covered with some of Miss Eudora's choicest worsted +embroidery, a piece of work of which she was very proud, never +allowing anything to touch it lest the roses should be jammed, +or the raised leaves defaced. But Willie cared neither for leaves, +nor roses, nor yet for Miss Eudora, and drawing the stool to his +mother's side, he sat kicking his little heels into a worn place +of the carpet, which no child had kicked since the doctor's days +of babyhood. The tender threads were fast giving way to the +vigorous strokes, when two doors opposite each other opened +simultaneously, and both Mrs. Richards and Eudora appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you—ah, yes—you are the lady who Jim said wished +to see me," Mrs. Richards began, bowing politely to Adah, +who had not yet dared to look up, and who when at last she +did raise her eyes, withdrew them at once, more abashed, more +frightened, more bewildered than ever, for the face she saw +fully warranted her ideas of a woman who could turn a waiting +maid from her door just because she was a waiting maid. +</p> + +<p> +Something seemed choking Adah and preventing her utterance, +for she did not speak until Mrs. Richards said again, this +time with a little less suavity and a little more hauteur of +manner, "Have I had the honor of meeting you before?"—then +with a low gasp, a mental petition for help, Adah rose up and +lifting to Mrs. Richards' cold, haughty face, her soft, brown +eyes, where tears were almost visible, answered faintly: "We +have not met before. Excuse me, madam, but my business is +with Miss Anna, can I see her please?" +</p> + +<p> +There was something supplicating in the tone with which +Adah made this request, and it struck Mrs. Richards unpleasantly. +She answered haughtily, though still politely, "My +daughter is sick. She does not see visitors. It will be impossible +to admit you to her chamber, but I will take your +name and your errand." +</p> + +<p> +Adah felt as if she should sink beneath the cold, cruel scrutiny +to which she knew she was subjected by the woman on her +right and the woman on her left. Too much confused to remember +anything distinctly, Adah forgot Jim's injunction; forgot +that Pamelia was to arrange it somehow; forgot everything, +except that Mrs. Richards was waiting for her to speak. An +ominous cough from Eudora decided her, and then it came out, +her reason for being there. She had seen Miss Anna's advertisement, +she wanted a place, and she had come so far to get it; +had left a happy home that she might not be dependent but earn, +her bread for herself and her little boy, for Willie. Would they +take her message to Anna? Would they let her stay? +</p> + +<p> +"You say you left a happy home," and the thin, sneering lips +of Eudora were pressed so tightly together that the words could +scarcely find egress. "May I ask, if it was so happy, why you +left it?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a flush on Adah's cheek as she replied, "Because it +was a home granted at first from charity. It was not mine. The +people were poor, and I would not longer be a burden to them." +</p> + +<p> +"And your husband—where is he?" +</p> + +<p> +This was the hardest question of all, and Adah's distress was +visible as she replied, "I will be frank with you. Willie's father +left me, and I don't know where he is." +</p> + +<p> +An incredulous, provoking smile flitted over Eudora's face +as she returned, "We hardly care to have a deserted wife in +our family—it might be unpleasant." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," and the old lady took up the argument, "Anna is well +enough without a maid. I don't know why she put that foolish +advertisement in the paper, in answer, I believe, to one equally +foolish which she saw about 'an unfortunate woman with a +child.'" +</p> + +<p> +"I am that woman. I wrote that advertisement when my +heart was heavier than it is now, and God took care of it. He +pointed it out to Miss Anna. He caused her to answer it. He +sent me here, and you will let me see her. Think if it were +your own daughter, pleading thus with some one." +</p> + +<p> +"That is impossible. Neither my daughter, nor my daughter-in-law, +if I had one, could ever come to a servant's position," +Mrs. Richards replied, not harshly, for there was something in +Adah's manner and in Adah's eyes which rode down her resentful +pride; and she might have yielded, but for Eudora, whose +hands had so ached to shake the little child, now innocently +picking at a bud. +</p> + +<p> +How she did long to box his ears, and while her mother talked, +she had taken a step forward more than once, but stopped as +often, held in check by the little face and soft blue eyes, turned +so trustingly upon her, the pretty lips once actually putting +themselves toward her, as if expecting a kiss. Frosty old maid +as she was, Eudora could not harm that child sitting on her +embroidery as coolly as if he had a right; but she could prevent +her mother from granting the stranger's request; so when +she saw signs of yielding, she said, decidedly, "She cannot see +Anna, mother. You know how foolish she is, and there's no +telling what fancy she might take." +</p> + +<p> +"Eudora," said Mrs. Richards in a low tone, "it might be +well for Anna to have a maid, and this one is certainly different +from the others who have applied." +</p> + +<p> +"But the child. We can't be bothered with a child. Evidently +he is not governed at all, and brother's wife coming by +and by." +</p> + +<p> +This last caught Adah's ear and changed the whole current +of her thoughts and wishes. Greatly to Mrs. Richards' surprise, +she said abruptly, "If I cannot see Miss Anna, I need not trouble +you longer. When does the next train go west?" +</p> + +<p> +Adah's voice never faltered, though her heart seemed bursting +from her throat, for she had not the most remote idea as to +where the next train going west would take her. She had +reached a point when she no longer thought or reasoned; she +would leave Terrace Hill; that was all she knew, except that in +her mind there was a vague fancy or hope that she might meet +Irving Stanley again. Not George, she did not even think of +him, as she stood before Dr. Richards' mother, who looked at her +in surprise, marveling that she had given up so quietly what she +had apparently so much desired. +</p> + +<p> +Very civilly she told her when the next train went west, and +then added kindly, "You cannot walk. You must stay here till +car-time, when Jim will carry you back." +</p> + +<p> +At this unexpected kindness Adah's calmness gave way, and +sitting down by the table, she laid her face upon it and sobbed +almost convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +"Mamma tie, mam-ma tie," and he pulled Mrs. Richards' +skirts vigorously indicating that she must do something for +mamma. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the doorbell rang. It was the doctor, come to visit +Anna, and both Mrs. Richards and Eudora left the room at once. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, why did I come here, and where shall I go?" Adah +moaned, as a sense of her lonely condition came over her. +</p> + +<p> +"Will my Father in heaven direct me? will He tell me what +to do?" she murmured brokenly, praying softly to herself that +a way might be opened for her, a path which she could tread. +</p> + +<p> +She could not tell how it was, but a quiet peace stole over her, +a feeling which had no thought or care for the future, and it +had been many nights since she had slept as sweetly or soundly +as she did for one half hour with her head upon the table in that +little room at Terrace Hill, Dr. Richards' home and Anna's. She +did not see the good-humored face which looked in at her a +moment, nor hear the whispering in the hall; neither did she +know when Willie, nothing loath, was coaxed from the room and +carried up the stairs into the upper hall, where he was purposely +left to himself, while Pamelia, the mother of Jim's two pairs +of twins, went to Anna's room, where she was to sit for an hour +or so, while the ladies had their lunch. Anna's head was better; +the paroxysms of pain were leas frequent than in the morning, +and she lay upon her pillow, her eyes closed wearily, and her +thoughts with Charlie Millbrook. Why had he never written?—why never come to see her? +</p> + +<p> +So intently was she thinking of Charlie that she did not hear +the patter of little feet in the hall without. Tired of staying +by himself, and spying the open door, Willie hastened toward +it, pausing a moment on the threshold as if to reconnoiter. +Something in Anna's attitude, as she lay with her long hair +falling over the pillow, must have reminded him of Alice, for, +with a cry of delight, he ran forward, and patting the white +cheek with his soft baby hand, lisped out the word "Arn-tee, +arn-tee," making Anna start suddenly and gaze at him in wondering +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is he?" she said, drawing him to her at once and +pressing a kiss upon his rosy face. +</p> + +<p> +Pamelia told her what she knew of the stranger waiting in +the reception-room, adding in conclusion: "I believe they said +you did not want her, and Jim is to take her to the depot when +it's time. She's very young and pretty, and looks so sorry, Jim +told me." +</p> + +<p> +"Said I did not want her! How did they know?" and something +of the Richards' spirit flashed from Anna's eyes. "The +child is so beautiful, and he called me 'Auntie,' too! He must +have an auntie somewhere. Little dear! how she must love him! +Lift him up, Pamelia." +</p> + +<p> +"I must see his mother," Anna said. "She must be above the +ordinary waiting maids. Perhaps I should like her. At all +events I will hear what she has to say. Show her up, Pamelia; +but first smooth my hair a little and arrange my pillows." +</p> + +<p> +Pamelia complied with her request; then leaving Willie with +Anna, she repaired to the reception-room, and arousing the sleeping +Adah, said to her hurriedly: +</p> + +<p> +"Please, miss, come quick; Miss Anna wants to see you. +The little boy is up there with her." +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0033" id="h2HCH0033"></a> + CHAPTER XXXIII +</h2> +<h3> + ANNA AND ADAH +</h3> +<p> +For a moment Anna was inclined to think that Pamelia had +made a mistake. That beautiful face, that refined, ladylike +manner, did not suit well a waiting maid, and Anna's doubts +were increasing, when little Willie set her right by patting her +cheek again, while he called out: "Mamma, arntee." +</p> + +<p> +The look of interest which Anna cast upon him emboldened +Adah to say: +</p> + +<p> +"Excuse him, Miss Richards; he must have mistaken you for +a dear friend at home, whom he calls 'Auntie,' I'll take him +down; he troubles you." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," and Anna passed her arm around him. "I love +children so much. I ought to have been a wife and mother, my +brother says, instead of a useless old maid." +</p> + +<p> +Anna smiled faintly as she said this, while thoughts of Charlie +Millbrook flashed across her mind. Adah was too much a +stranger to disclaim against Anna's calling herself old, so she +paid no attention to the remark, but plunged at once into the +matter which had brought her there. Presuming they would +rather be alone, Pamelia had purposely left the room, meeting +in the lower hall with Mrs. Richards and her daughter, who, in +much affright, were searching for the recent occupants of the +reception-room. Pamelia quieted them by saying: "The lady +was in Miss Anna's room." +</p> + +<p> +"How came she there? She must be a bold piece, upon my +word!" she said, angrily, while Pamelia replied: +</p> + +<p> +"The little boy got upstairs, and walked right into Miss +Anna's room. She was taken with him at once, and asked who +he was. I told her and she sent for the lady. That's how it +happened." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Richards hurried up to Anna's chamber, where Willie +still was perched by Anna's pillow, while Adah, with her bonnet +in her lap, sat a little apart, traces of tears and agitation upon +her cheeks, but a look of happiness in the brown eyes fixed so +wistfully on Anna's fair, sweet face. +</p> + +<p> +"Please, mother," said Anna, motioning her away, "leave us +alone a while. Shut the door, and see that no one comes near." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Richards obeyed, and Anna, waiting until she was out +of hearing, resumed the conversation just where it had been +interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +"And so you are the one who wrote that advertisement which +I read. Let me see—the very night my brother came home from +Europe. I remember he laughed because I was so interested, +and he accidentally tore off the name to light his cigar, so I +forgot it entirely. What shall I call you, please?" +</p> + +<p> +Adah was tempted to answer her at once, "Adah Hastings"—it +seemed so wrong to impose in any way on that frank, sweet +woman; but she remembered Mrs. Worthington's injunction, +and for her sake she refrained, keeping silent a moment, and +then breaking out impetuously: "Please, Miss Richards, don't +ask my real name, for I'd rather not give it now. I will tell +you of the past, though I did not ever mean to do that; but +something about you makes me know I can trust you." And +then, amid a shower of tears, in which Anna's, too, were +mingled, Adah told her sad story. +</p> + +<p> +"But why do you wish to conceal?" she asked, after Adah +had finished. "Is there any reason?" +</p> + +<p> +"At first there was none in particular, save a fancy I had, +but there came one afterward—the request of one who had been, +kind to me as a dear mother. Is it wrong not to tell the +whole?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think not. You have dealt honestly with me so far, but +what shall I call you? You must have a name." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, may I stay?" Adah asked eagerly, forgetting her late +terror of 'Lina. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you may. Did you think I would turn you +away?" was Anna's reply; and laying her head upon the white +counterpane of the bed, Adah cried passionately; not a wild, +bitter cry, but a delicious kind of cry which did her good, even +though her whole frame quivered and her low, choking sobs +fell distinctly on Anna's ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor child!" the latter said, laying her soft hand on the +bowed head. "You have suffered much, but with me you shall +find rest. I want you for a companion, rather than a maid. I, +too, have had my heart troubles; not like yours, but heavy +enough to make me wish I could die." +</p> + +<p> +It was seldom that Anna alluded to herself in this way, and +to do so to a stranger was utterly foreign to the Richards' +nature. But Anna could not help it. There was something +about Adah which interested her greatly. She could not wholly +shield her from her mother's and sisters' pride, but she would +do what she could. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, pride, pride," she whispered to herself, "of how much +pain hast thou been the cause." +</p> + +<p> +Pride had sent her Charlie over the sea without her; pride +had separated her brother from the Lily she was sure he loved, +as he could never love the maiden to whom he was betrothed; +and pride, it seemed, had been at the root of all this young girl's +sorrow. Blessed Anna Richards—the world has few like her—so +gentle, so kind, so lovely, and as no one could long be with +her and not feel her influence, so Adah, by the touch of the +fingers still caressing her, was soothed into peaceful quiet. +</p> + +<p> +When she had grown quite calm, Anna continued: "You +have not told me yet what name to give you, or shall I choose +one for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, if you only would!" and Adah looked up quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Anna began to enjoy this mystery, wondering what name she +should choose. Adah should be Rose Markham, and she repeated +it aloud, asking Adah how it sounded. +</p> + +<p> +"If it did not seem so much like deceiving," Adah said. +"You'll tell your family it is not my real name, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +Anna readily agreed to Adah's proposal, and then, remembering +that all this time she had been sitting in her cloak and +fur, she bade her lay them aside. "Or, stay," she added, "touch +that bell, if you please, and ring Pamelia up. There's a little +room adjoining this. I mean to give you that. You will be so +near me, and so retired, too, when you like. John—that's my +brother—occupied it when a boy. I think it will answer nicely +for you." +</p> + +<p> +Obedient to the ring, Pamelia came, manifesting no surprise +when told by Anna to unlock the door and see if the little room +was in order for "Mrs. Markham." +</p> + +<p> +Pamelia cast a rapid glance at Adah, who winced as she +heard the new name, and felt glad when Anna added: "Pamelia, +I can trust you not to gossip out of the house. This young +woman's name is not Markham, but I choose to have her called +so." +</p> + +<p> +Another glance at Adah, more curious than the first, and then +Pamelia did as she was bidden, opening the door and saying, as +she did so: "I know the room is in order. There's a fire, too; +Miss Anna has forgot that Dr. John slept here last night." +</p> + +<p> +"I do remember now," Anna replied. "Mrs. Markham can +go in at once. Pamelia, send lunch to her room, and tell your +husband to bring up her trunk." +</p> + +<p> +Again Pamelia bowed and departed to do her young mistress' +bidding, while Adah entered the pleasant room where Dr. Richards +had slept the previous night. +</p> + +<p> +On the marble hearth the remains of a cheerful fire were blazing, +while on the mantel over the hearth was a portrait of a +boy, apparently ten or twelve years of age, and a young girl, +who seemed a few years older. The girl was Anna. But the +boy, the handsome, smooth-cheeked boy, in his fancy jacket, with +that expression of vanity plainly visible about his mouth. Who +was he? Had Adah any knowledge of him? Had they met +before? Never that she knew of. Dr. Richards was a stranger +to her, for she guessed this was the doctor, 'Lina's betrothed, +scrutinizing him closely, and wondering if the man retained +the look of the boy. And as she gazed, the features seemed to +grow familiar. Surely she had met a face like this, but where +she could not guess, and turning from him she inspected the rest +of the room, wondering if Alice Johnson were ever in this room. +</p> + +<p> +With thoughts of Alice came memories of Spring Bank, and +the wish that they knew all this. How thankful they would be, +and how thankful she was for this resting place in the protection +of sweet Anna Richards. It was better than she had even +dared to hope for, and sinking down by the snowy-covered bed, +she murmured inaudibly the prayer of thanksgiving she felt +compelled to make to Him who had led her to Terrace Hill. It +was thus that Pamelia found her when she came up again, and +it did much to establish the profound respect she ever manifested +toward the new waiting maid, Rose Markham. +</p> + +<p> +"Your lunch will be here directly," she said to Adah, who +little dreamed of the parley which had taken place between +Asenath and Dixson, the cook, concerning this same lunch. +</p> + +<p> +Asenath was too proud to discuss the matter with a servant, +but when she saw the slices of cold chicken which Dixson was +deliberately cutting up, and the little pot of jelly which Pamelia +placed upon the salver, she forgot her dignity, and angrily demanded +what they were doing. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Anna ordered lunch, and I'm a-gettin' it," was Dixson's +reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but such a lunch for a waiting woman; and going to +send it up. I'd like to know if she's too big a lady to come into +the kitchen," and Asenath's sharp shoulders jerked savagely. +</p> + +<p> +"I must say, I think you very foolish indeed, to take a +person about whom you know nothing," she said to Anna, as +soon as she saw her, but stopped short as Willie ran out from +the adjoining room and stood looking at her. +</p> + +<p> +As well as she was capable of doing, Asenath had loved her +brother John when a baby; and when he became a prattling +active child, like the one standing before her, she had almost +worshiped him, thinking there was never a face so pretty or +manner so engaging as his. There had come no baby after him, +and she remembered him so well, starting now with surprise +as she saw reflected in Willie's face the look she never had forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is he, Anna? Not her child, the waiting woman's, +surely." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush—sh," came warningly from Anna, as she glanced toward +the open door, and that brought Asenath back from her +dream of the past. +</p> + +<p> +It was the waiting woman's child. There was no look like +John now. She had been mistaken, and rather rudely pushing +him away, she said: "I think you might have consulted us, at +least. What are we to do with a child in this house? Here, +here, young man," and Asenath started forward just in time to +frighten Willie and make him drop and break the goblet he was +trying to reach from the stand, "to dink," as he said. +</p> + +<p> +Asenath's purple silk was deluged with the water, and her +temper was considerably ruffled as she exclaimed: "You see the +mischief he has done, and it was cut glass, too. I hope you'll +deduct it from her wages!" +</p> + +<p> +"Asenath," and Anna's voice betrayed her astonishment that +her sister should speak so in Adah's presence. +</p> + +<p> +She had hurried out at Asenath's alarm, but the latter did not +at first observe her, and when she did, she was actually startled +into an apology for her speech. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry Willie was so careless. I'll pay for the goblet +cheerfully," Adah said, not to Asenath, but to Anna, who answered +kindly: "No matter; it was already cracked across the +bottom—don't mind." +</p> + +<p> +But Adah did mind; and once alone in her room, her tears fell +in torrents. She had heard the whole about Willie's mischief, +heard of the buds torn to pieces, and of the hole kicked in the +carpet. She would like to see that hole, and after Willie was +asleep, she stole down to the reception-room to see the damage +for herself. She found the hole, or what was intended for it, +smiling as she examined the few loose threads; and then she +hunted for the stool, finding it under the curtain where Eudora +had placed it, and finding, too, that letter dropped by Jim. The +others were gone, appropriated by Mrs. Richards, who always +watched for the western mail and looked it over herself. +</p> +<p class="quote"> +<span class="smcaps">Miss Annie Richards,<br/> +Snowdown,<br/> +Mass.</span> +</p> + +<p> +That was the direction, and the envelope was faced with black. +Adah noticed this, together with the heavy seal of wax stamped +with an initial; and she was taking the lost epistle to its rightful +owner when Mrs. Richards met her, asking what she had. +</p> + +<p> +"I found this beneath the curtain," Adah replied. "It's for +Miss Anna; I'll take it to her, shall I?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes—yes, yes; for Anna," and madam snatched eagerly +at that letter from Charlie Millbrook. +</p> + +<p> +Soon recovering herself, she said naturally: "I'll take it myself. +Say, girl, what is your name, now that you are to work +here? You won't mind righting up the parlors, I presume—sweeping +and dusting them, before you go upstairs again?" +</p> + +<p> +It was new business for Adah, sweeping parlors as a servant, +but she did it without a murmur; and then, when her task was +completed, stopped for a moment by a window, and looked out +upon the town, wondering where Alice Johnson's home had been. +The house where she once lived would seem like an old friend, +she thought, just as Pamelia came in and joined her. At the +same moment Adah's eye caught the cottage by the river, and +her heart beat rapidly, for that seemed to answer Alice's description +of her Snowdon home. +</p> + +<p> +"Whose pretty place is that?" she asked, pointing it out to +Pamelia, who replied: +</p> + +<p> +"It was a Mrs. Johnson's, but she's dead, and Miss Alice has +gone a long ways off. I wish you could see Miss Alice, the most +beautiful and the best lady in the world. She and Miss Anna +were great friends. She used to be up here every day, and the +village folks talked some that she came to see the doctor. But +my," and Pamelia's face was very expressive of contempt, "she +wouldn't have him, by a great sight. He's going to be married, +though, to a Kentucky belle, with a hundred or more negroes, +they say, and mighty big feelin'. But she needn't bring none of +her a'rs nor her darkies here!" +</p> + +<p> +"When does she come?" Adah asked, and Pamelia answered: +</p> + +<p> +"In the spring; so you needn't begin to dread her. Why, your +face is white as paper," and rather familiarly Pamelia pinched +Adah's marble cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Adah did not mean to be proud, but still she could not help +shrinking from the familiarity, drawing back so quickly that +Pamelia saw the implied rebuke. She did not ask pardon, but +she became at once more respectful. +</p> + +<p> +A moment after Anna's bell was heard, but Adah paid no +heed, till Pamelia said: +</p> + +<p> +"That was Miss Anna's bell, and it means for you to come." +</p> + +<p> +Adah colored, and hastily left the room, while Pamelia muttered +to herself: +</p> + +<p> +"Ain't no more a maid than Miss Anna herself. But why +has she come here? That's the mystery. She's been unfortunate." +</p> + +<p> +This was the solution in Pamelia's mind; but the thought +went no further than to her better half. +</p> + +<p> +Adah's feelings at being called just as Lulu and Muggins were +at home, had been in a measure shared by Anna, who hesitated +several minutes ere touching the bell. +</p> + +<p> +"If she is to be my maid, it will be better for us both not to +act under restraint," she thought, and so rang out the summons +which brought Adah to her room. +</p> + +<p> +It was an awkward business, requiring a menial's service of +that ladylike creature, and Anna would have been exceedingly +perplexed had not Adah's good sense come to the rescue, prompting +her to do things unasked in such a way that Anna was at +once relieved from embarrassment, and felt that in Rose Markham +she had found a treasure. She did not join the family in +the evening, but kept her room instead, talking with Adah and +caressing and playing with little Willie, who persisted in calling +her "Arntee," in spite of all Adah could say. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind," Anna answered, laughingly; "I rather like to +hear him. No one has ever called me by that name, and maybe +never will, though my brother is engaged to be married in the +spring. I have a picture of his betrothed there on my bureau. +Would you like to see it?" +</p> + +<p> +Adah nodded, and was soon gazing on the dark, haughty face +she knew so well, and which, even from the casing, seemed to +smile disdainfully upon, her, just as the original had often +done. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think of her?" Anna asked. +</p> + +<p> +Adah must say something, and she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I dare say people think her pretty." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but what do you think? I asked your opinion," persisted +Anna; and thus beset Adah replied at last: +</p> + +<p> +"I think her too showily dressed for a picture. She displays +too much jewelry." +</p> + +<p> +Anna began to defend her future sister. +</p> + +<p> +"There's rather too much of ornament, I'll admit, but she's a +great beauty, and attracts much attention. Why, one of her +pictures hangs in Brady's Gallery." +</p> + +<p> +"At Brady's!" and Adah spoke quickly. "I should not suppose +your brother would like to have it there where so many +can look at it." +</p> + +<p> +Anna tried to shield the heartless 'Lina, never dreaming how +much more than herself Adah knew of 'Lina Worthington. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to Adah like a miserable deceit, sitting there and +listening while Anna talked of 'Lina, and she was glad when at +last she showed signs of weariness, and expressed a desire to +retire for the night. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you mind reading to me from the Bible?" Anna +asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, I'd like it so much," and Adah read her favorite +chapter. +</p> + +<p> +And Anna listening to the sweet, silvery tones reading: "Let +not your heart be troubled," felt her own sorrow grow less. +</p> + +<p> +"If you please," Adah said timidly, bending over the sweet +face resting on the pillow, "if you please, may I say the 'Lord's +Prayer' here with you?" +</p> + +<p> +Anna answered by grasping Adah's hand, and whispering to +her: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, say it, do." +</p> + +<p> +Then Adah knelt beside her, and Anna's fair hand rested as +if in blessing on her head as they said together, "Our Father." +</p> + +<p> +Adah's sleep was sweet that night in her little room at Terrace +Hill—sweet, not because she knew whose home it was, nor +yet because only the previous night he had tossed wearily upon +the self-same pillow where she was resting so quietly, but because +of a heart at peace with God, a feeling that she had at +last found a haven of shelter for herself and her child, a home +with Anna Richards, whose low breathings could be distinctly +heard, and who once as the night wore on moaned so loudly in +her sleep that it awakened Adah, and brought her to the bedside. +But Anna was only dreaming and Adah heard her murmur the +name of Charlie. +</p> + +<p> +"I will not awaken her," she said, and gliding back to her +own room, she wondered who was Anna's Charlie, associating +him somehow with the letter she had given, into the care of +Mrs. Richards. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0034" id="h2HCH0034"></a> + CHAPTER XXXIV +</h2> +<h3> + ROSE MARKHAM +</h3> +<p> +To Mrs. Richards and her elder daughters Rose Markham was +an object of suspicious curiosity, while the villagers merely +thought of Rose Markham as one far above her position, saying +not very complimentary things of madam and her older daughters +when it was known that Rose had been banished from the +family pew to the side seat near the door, where honest Jim +said his prayers, with Pamelia at his side. +</p> + +<p> +For only one Sabbath had Adah graced the Richards' pew, +and then it was all Jim's work. He had driven his wife and +Adah first to church, as the day was stormy, and ere returning +for the ladies, had escorted Adah up the aisle and turned her +into the family pew, where she sat unconscious of the admiring +looks cast upon her by those already assembled, or of the indignant +astonishment of Miss Asenath and Eudora when they +found that for one half day at least they must he disgraced by +sitting with their servant. Very haughtily the scandalized +ladies swept up the aisle, stopping suddenly at the pew door as +if waiting for Adah to leave; but she only drew back further +into the corner, while Willie held up to Asenath the picture he +had found in her velvet-bound prayer book. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! for the quiet hour Adah had hoped to spend, hallowed +by thoughts that the dear ones at Spring Bank were mingling +in the same service. She could not even join in the responses +at first for the bitterness at her heart, the knowing how much +she was despised by the proud ladies beside her. +</p> + +<p> +Very close she kept Willie at her side, allowing him occasionally +as he grew tired to stand upon the cushion, a proceeding +highly offensive to the Misses Richards and highly +gratifying to the row of tittering schoolgirls in the seat behind +him. Willie always attracted attention, and numerous were the +compliments paid to his infantile beauty by the younger portion +of the congregation, while the older ones, they who remembered +the doctor when a boy, declared that Willie Markham was exactly +like him, when standing in the seat he kept the children +in continual excitement by his restless movements and pretty +baby ways. +</p> + +<p> +The fire burned brightly in Anna's room when Adah returned +from church, and Anna herself was waiting for her, welcoming +her back with a smile which went far toward removing the pain +still heavy at her heart. Anna saw something was the matter, +but it was her sisters who enlightened her as together they ate +their Sunday dinner in the little breakfast room where Anna +joined them. +</p> + +<p> +"Such impudence," Eudora said. "She had not heard one +word of Mr. Howard's sermon, for keeping her book and dress +and fur away from that little torment." +</p> + +<p> +Then followed the story in detail, how "Markham had sat in +their seat, parading herself up there just for show, while Willie +had kissed the picture of little Samuel in Asenath'a book and +left thereon the print of his lips. If Anna would have a maid, +they did wish she would get one not quite so affected as Markham, +one who did not try to attract attention by assuming the +airs of a lady," and with this the secret was out. +</p> + +<p> +Adah was too pretty, too stylish, to suit the prim Eudora, who +felt keenly how she must suffer by comparison with her sister's +waiting maid. Even unsuspicious Anna saw the point, and +smiling archly asked "what she could do to make Rose less +attractive." +</p> + +<p> +In some things Anna could not have her way, and when her +mother and sisters insisted that they would not keep a separate +table for Markham, as they called Adah, she yielded, secretly +bidding Pamelia see that everything was comfortable and nice +for Mrs. Markham and her little boy. There was hardly need for +this injunction, for in the kitchen Adah was regarded as far +superior to those who would have trampled her down, and her +presence among the servants was not without its influence, softening +Jim's rough, loud ways, and making both Dixson and +Pamelia more careful of their words and manners when she was +with them. Much, too, they grew to love and pet the little +Willie, who, accustomed to the free range of Spring Bank, asserted +the same right at Terrace Hill, going where he pleased, +putting himself so often in Mrs. Richards' way, that she began +at last to notice him, and if no one was near, to caress the handsome +boy. Asenath and Eudora held out longer, but even they +were not proof against Willie's winning ways. +</p> + +<p> +It was many weeks ere Adah wrote to Alice Johnson, and +when at last she did, she said of Terrace Hill: +</p> + +<p> +"I am happier here than I at first supposed it possible. The +older ladies were so proud, so cold, so domineering, that it made +me very wretched, in spite of sweet Anna's kindness. But there +has come a perceptible change, and they now treat me civilly, +if nothing more, while I do believe they are fond of Willie, and +would miss him if he were gone." +</p> + +<p> +Adah was right in this conjecture; for had it now been +optional with the Misses Richards whether Willie should go +or stay, they would have kept him there from choice, so cheery +and pleasant he made the house. Adah was still too pretty, too +stylish, to suit their ideas of a servant; but when, as time +passed on, they found she did not presume at all on her good +looks, but meekly kept her place as Anna's maid or companion, +they dropped the haughty manner they had at first assumed, and +treated her with civility, if not with kindness. +</p> + +<p> +With Anna it was different. Won by Adah's gentleness and +purity, she came at last to love her almost as much as if she +had been a younger sister. Adah was not a servant to her, +but a companion, a friend, with whom she daily held familiar +converse, learning from her much that was good, and prizing her +more and more as the winter weeks went swiftly by. +</p> + +<p> +Since the morning when Adah confided to her a part of her +history, she had never alluded to it or intimated a desire to +hear more; but she thought much about it, revolving in her mind +various expedients for finding and bringing back to his allegiance +the recreant lover. +</p> + +<p> +"If I were not bound to secrecy," she thought one day, as +she sat waiting for Adah's return from the post office, "if I +were not bound to secrecy, I would tell Brother John, and perhaps +he might think of something. Men's wits are sometimes +better than women's. When she comes back from the office I +mean to see what she'll say." +</p> + +<p> +Adah did not join Anna at once, but went instead to her own +room, where she could read and cry alone over the nice long +letter from Alice Johnson, telling how much they missed her, +how old Sam pined for Willie, how Mrs. Worthington and Hugh +mourned for Adah, and how she, Alice, prayed for the dear +friend, never so dear as now that she was gone. Many and minute +were Alice's inquiries as to whether Adah had yet seen Dr. +Richards, when was he expected home, and so forth. +</p> + +<p> +Adah placed her letter in her pocket, and then went to sit +with Anna, whose face lighted up at once, for Adah's society +was like sunshine to her monotonous life. +</p> + +<p> +"Rose," she said, after an interval of silence had elapsed, "I +have been thinking about you all day, and wishing I might do +you good. You have never told me the city where you met +Willie's father, and I fancied it might be Boston, until I remembered +that your advertisement was in the<i>Herald</i>. Was it +Boston?" +</p> + +<p> +It was a direct question, and Adah answered frankly. +</p> + +<p> +"It was in New York," while Anna quickly rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I'm so glad! for now you'll let me tell Brother John. +He has lived there so much he must know everybody, or at all +events he may find that man and bring him back. You will +have to give his name, of course." +</p> + +<p> +Adah's face was white as ashes, as she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"No, no—oh, no. He could not find him. Nobody can but +God. I am willing to wait His time. Don't tell your brother, +Miss Anna—don't." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke so earnestly, and seemed so distressed, that Anna +answered at once: +</p> + +<p> +"I will not without your permission, though I'd like to so +much. He is coming home by-and-by. His wedding day is fixed +for April ——, and he will visit us before that time, to see about +our preparations for receiving 'Lina. We somehow expected +a letter to-day. Did you get one?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, one for your mother—from the doctor, I think," Adah +replied, without telling how faint the sight of the handwriting +had made her, it was so like George's—not exactly like his, +either, but enough so to make her heart beat painfully as she +recalled the only letter she ever received from him, the fatal +note which broke her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"It is so very long since I had a letter all to myself, that I +wonder how it would seem," Anna rejoined. "I have not had +one since—since—" +</p> + +<p> +"The day I came there was one for you," said Adah, while +Anna looked wonderingly at her, saying, "You are mistaken, +I'm sure. I've no remembrance of it. A letter from whom?" +</p> + +<p> +Adah did not know from whom or where. She only knew +there was one, and by way of refreshing Anna's memory, she +said: +</p> + +<p> +"Jim put it with the others on the table, and it fell behind +the curtain, where I found it in the afternoon. I was bringing +it to you myself, but your mother took it from me and said she +would carry it up while I swept the parlor. Surely you remember +now." +</p> + +<p> +No, Anna did not, and she looked so puzzled that Adah, anxious +to set the matter right, continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I remember it particularly, because it was spelled A-n-n-i-e +instead of Anna." +</p> + +<p> +Adah was not prepared for the sudden start, the look almost +of terror in Anna's eyes, or for the color which stained the +usually colorless face. In all the world there was but one +person who ever called her Annie, or wrote it so, and that person +was Charlie. Had he written at last, and if so, why had she +never known it? Could it be her proud mother had withheld +what would have been life to her slowly dying daughter? It was +terrible to suspect such a thing, and Anna struggled to cast the +thought aside, saying to Adah. "Was there anything else +peculiar about it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, except that 'twas inclosed in a mourning envelope, +sealed with wax, and the letter on the seal was—was—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, pray think quick. You have not forgotten. You must +not forget," and Anna's soft blue eyes grew dark with intense +excitement as Adah tried to recall the initial on that seal. +</p> + +<p> +"She had not noticed particularly, she did not suppose it was +important. She was not certain, but she believed—yes, she was +nearly sure—the letter was 'M.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you do not know how much good you have done me," +Anna cried, and laying her throbbing head on Adah's neck, she +wept a torrent of tears, wrung out by the knowing that Charlie +had not forgotten her quite. He had written, and that of itself +was joy, even though he loved another. +</p> + +<p> +"The initial was 'M.'—you are sure, you are sure," she kept +whispering, while Adah soothed the poor head, wondering at +Anna's agitation, and in a measure guessing the truth, the old +story, love, whose course had not run smoothly. +</p> + +<p> +"And mother took it," Anna said at last, growing more composed. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, she said she would bring it to you," was Adah's reply. +</p> + +<p> +For several minutes Anna sat looking out upon the snowy +landscape, her usually smooth brow wrinkled with thought, and +her eyes gleaming with a strange, new light. There was a +shadow on her fair face, a grieved, injured expression, as if +her mother's treachery had hurt her cruelly. She knew the letter +was withheld, and her first impulse was to demand it at once. +But Anna dreaded a scene, and dreaded her mother, too, and +after a moment's reflection that her Charlie would write again, +and Adah, who now went regularly to the office, would get it and +bring it to her, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"Does mother always look over the letters?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at first," was Adah's reply, "but now she meets me at +the door, and takes them from my hand." +</p> + +<p> +Anna was puzzled. Turning again to Adah, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you to go always to the office, and if there comes +another letter for me, bring it up at once. It's mine." +</p> + +<p> +Anna had no desire now to talk with Adah of the recreant +lover, or ask that John should hear the story. Her mind was +too much disturbed, and for more than half an hour she sat, +looking intently into the fire, seeing there visions of what might +be in case Charlie loved her still, and wished her to be his wife. +The mere knowing that he had written made her so happy that +she could not even be angry with her mother, though a shadow +flitted over her face, when her reverie was broken by the entrance +of Madam Richards, who had come to see what she +thought of fitting up the west chambers for John's wife, instead +of the north ones. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a letter from him," she said. "They are to be married +the —— day of April, which leaves us only five weeks more, +as they will start at once for Terrace Hill. Do, Anna, look interested," +she continued, rather pettishly, as Anna did not seem +very attentive. "I am so bothered. I want to see you alone," +and she cast a furtive glance at Adah, who left the room, while +madam plunged at once into the matter agitating her so much. +</p> + +<p> +She had fully intended going to Kentucky with her son, but +'Lina had objected, and the doctor had written, saying she +must not go. +</p> + +<p> +"I have not the money myself," he wrote, "and I'll have to +get trusted for my wedding suit, so you must appeal to Anna's +good nature for the wherewithal with which to fix the rooms. +She may stay with you longer than you anticipate. It is too +expensive living here, as she would expect to live. Nothing but +Fifth Avenue Hotel would suit her, and I cannot ask her for +funds at once. I'd rather come to it gradually." +</p> + +<p> +And this it was which so disturbed Mrs. Richards' peace of +mind. She could not go to Kentucky, and she might as well +have saved the money she had expended in getting her black +silk velvet dress fixed for the occasion, while, worst of all, she +must have John's wife there for months, perhaps, whether she +liked it or not, and she must also fit up the rooms with paper +and paint and carpets, notwithstanding that she'd nothing to +do it with, unless Anna generously gave the necessary sum from +her own yearly income. Anna assented to that, and said she +would try to spare the money. Rose could make the carpets, and +that would save a little. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish, too, mother," she added, "that you would let her +arrange the rooms altogether. She has exquisite taste, besides +the faculty of making the most of things. Our house never +looked so well as it has since she came. Somehow Eudora +and Asenath have such a stiff set way of putting the +furniture." +</p> + +<p> +So it was Anna who selected the tasteful carpet for 'Lina's +boudoir, and the bedchamber beyond it, but it was Adah who +made it, Adah who, with Willie playing on the floor, bent so +patiently over the heavy fabric, sometimes wiping away the +bitter tears as she thought of the days preceding her own bridal, +and of her happiness, even though no fingers were busy for her +in the home where they were too proud to receive her. Where +was that home? Was it North or South, East or West, and what +was it like? She had no idea, though, sometimes fancy had +whispered that it might have been like Terrace Hill, that +George's haughty mother, who had threatened to turn her from +the door, was a second Mrs. Richards, and then an involuntary +prayer of thanksgiving escaped her lips for the trial she had +escaped. +</p> + +<p> +Frequently doubts crossed her mind as to the future, when it +might be known that she came from Spring Bank, and knew +the expected bride. Would she not be blamed as a party in the +deception? Ought she not to tell Anna frankly that she knew +her brother's betrothed? She did not know, and the harassing +anxiety wore upon her faster than all the work she had to do. +</p> + +<p> +Anna seemed very happy. Excitement was what she needed, +and never since her girlish days had she been so bright and +active as she was now, assisting Adah in her labors, and watching +the progress of affairs. The new carpets looked beautiful +when upon the floor, and gave to the rooms a new and cozy +aspect. The muslin curtains, done up by the laundress so carefully, +lest they should drop to pieces, looked almost as good as +new, and no one would have suspected that the pretty cornice +had been made from odds and ends found by Adah in an ancient +box up in the lumber-room. The white satin bows which looped +the curtains back, were tied by Adah's hands. +</p> + +<p> +And during all this while came there to Adah's heart no +suspicion for whom and whose she was thus laboring? No +strange interest in the bridegroom, the handsome doctor, so +doted upon by mother and sisters? None whatever. She +scarcely remembered him, or if she did, it was as one toward +whom she was utterly indifferent. He would not notice her. +He might not notice Willie, though yes, she rather thought he +would like her boy; everybody did, and the young mother bent +down to kiss her child, and so hide the blush called up by a +remembrance of Irving Stanley's kindness on that sad journey +to Terrace Hill. +</p> + +<p> +Rapidly the few days went by, bringing at last the very morning +when he was expected. Brightly, warmly the April sun +looked in upon Adah, wondering at the load upon her spirits. +She did not associate it with the doctor, nor with anything in +particular. She did not know for certain that she should even +see him. She might and she might not, but if she did perchance +stumble upon him, she would a little rather he should +see that she was not like ordinary waiting-maids. She would +make a good impression! +</p> + +<p> +And so she wore the pretty dark French calico which Anna had +given to her, fastened the neat linen collar with a chaste little +pin, buttoned her snow-white cuffs, thrust a clean handkerchief +into the dainty pocket on the outside of her skirt, and then +descended to the drawing-room to see that the fires were burning +briskly, for spite of the cheerful sunshine pouring in, the morning +was cold and frosty. They had delayed their breakfast until +the doctor should come, and in the dining-room the table was laid +with unusual care. Everything was in its place, and still Adah +fluttered around it like a restless bird, lingering by what she +knew was the doctor's chair, taking up his knife, examining his +napkin ring, and wondering what he would think of the cheap +bone rings used at Spring Bank. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of her cogitations, the door bell rang, and she +heard the tramp of horses' feet as Jim drove around to the +stable. The doctor had come and she must go, but where was +Willie? +</p> + +<p> +"Willie, Willie," she called, but Willie paid no heed, and as +Eudora had said, was directly under foot when she unlocked the +door, his the first form distinctly seen, his the first face which +met the doctor's view, and his fearless baby laugh the first sound, +which welcomed the doctor home! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0035" id="h2HCH0035"></a> + CHAPTER XXXV +</h2> +<h3> + THE RESULT +</h3> +<p> +It was not a disagreeable picture—that chubby, rose-cheeked +little boy. Willie had run to the door because he heard the +bell. He had not expected to see a stranger, and at sight of +the tall figure he drew back timidly and half hid himself behind +Mrs. Richards, whom he knew to be the warmest ally he had +in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +As the doctor had said to Irving Stanley, he disliked children, +but he could not help noticing Willie, and after the first greetings +were over he asked, "Who have we here? Whose child +is this?" +</p> + +<p> +Eudora and Asenath tried to frown, but the expression of +their faces softened perceptibly as they glanced at Willie, who +had followed them into the parlor, and who, with one little foot +thrown forward, and his fat hands pressed together, stood upon +the hearth rug, gazing at the doctor with that strange look which +had so often puzzled, bewildered and fascinated the entire Richards' +family. +</p> + +<p> +"Anna wrote you that the maid she so much wanted had come +to her at last—a very ladylike person, who has evidently seen +better days, and this is her child, Willie Markham. He is such +a queer little fellow that we allow him more liberties than we +ought." +</p> + +<p> +It was Mrs. Richards who volunteered this explanation, while +her son stood looking down at Willie, wondering what it was +about the child which seemed familiar. Anna had casually mentioned +Rose Markham in her letter, had said how much she +liked her, and had spoken of her boy, but the doctor was too +much absorbed in his own affairs to care for Rose Markham; so +he had not thought of her since, notwithstanding that 'Lina had +tried many times to make him speak of Anna's maid, so as to +calculate her own safety. The sight of Willie, however, set the +doctor to thinking, and finally carried him back to the crowded +car, the shrieking child, and the young woman to whom Irving +Stanley had been so kind. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope I shall not be obliged to see her," he thought, and +then he answered his mother's speech concerning Willie. "So +you've taken to petting a servant's child, for want of something +better. Just wait until my boy comes here." +</p> + +<p> +Eudora tried to blush, Asenath looked unconscious, while Mrs. +Richards replied: "If I ever have a grandson one half as pretty +or as bright as Willie, I shall be satisfied." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor did not know how rapidly a lively, affectionate +child will win one's love, and he thought his proud mother +grown almost demented; but still, in spite of himself, he more +than once raised his hand to lay it on Willie's head, pausing +occasionally in his conversation to watch the gambols of the +playful child sporting on the carpet. +</p> + +<p> +"Willie, Willie," called Adah from a distant room, where +she was looking for him. "Willie, Willie," and as the silvery +tone fell on the doctor's ears he started suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is that?" he asked, his heart throbs growing fainter +as his mother replied: "That is Mrs. Markham. Singularly +sweet voice for a person in humble life, don't you think so?" +</p> + +<p> +The doctor's reply was cut short by the entrance of Anna, +and in his joy at meeting his favorite sister and the excitement +at the breakfast which followed immediately, the doctor forgot +Rose Markham, who had succeeded in capturing Willie and +borne him to her own room. After breakfast was over he went +with Anna to inspect the rooms which Adah had fitted for his +bride. They were very pleasant, and fastidious as he was he +could find fault with nothing. The carpet, the curtains, the new +light furniture, the armchair by the window where 'Lina was +expected to sit, the fanciful workbasket standing near, and his +chair not far away, all were in perfect taste, and passing his +arm caressingly about Anna's waist he said: "It's very nice, +and I thank my little sister so much; of course, I am wholly +indebted to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Not of course. I furnished means, it is true, but another +than myself planned and executed the effect," and sitting down +in 'Lina's chair, Anna told her brother of Rose Markham, so +beautiful, so refined, and so perfectly ladylike. "You must see +her, and judge for yourself. Can't I think of some excuse for +sending for her?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +It was some evil genius truly which prompted the doctor's +reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind. I'm not partial to smart waiting maids. I'd +rather talk with you." +</p> + +<p> +And so the golden moment was lost, and Adah was not sent +for, while in his bridal rooms the doctor sat, trying to be interested +in all that Anna was saying, trying to believe he should +be happy when 'Lina was his wife, and trying, oh, so hard, to +shut out the vision of another, who should have been there in +his own home, instead of lying in some lonesome grave, as he +believed she was, with her baby on her bosom. Poor Lily! +</p> + +<p> +It was a great mistake he made when he cast Lily off, but it +could not now be helped. No tears, no regrets, could bring +back the dear little form laid away beneath the grassy sod, and +so he would not waste his time in idle mourning. He would do +the best he could with 'Lina. He did believe she loved him. +He was almost sure of it, and as a means of redressing Lily's +wrongs he would be kind to her. +</p> + +<p> +And where all this while was Adah? Had she no curiosity, +no desire to see the man about whom she had heard so much? +Doubtless she had, and would have sought an occasion for gratifying +it, had not the rather too talkative Pamelia accidentally +overheard the doctor's remark concerning "smart waiting +maids," and repeated it to her, with sundry little embellishments +in tone and manner. Piqued more than she cared to acknowledge, +Adah decided not to trouble him if she could help it, and +so kept out of his way, by staying mostly in her own room, +where she was busy with sewing for Anna. +</p> + +<p> +Once, as the afternoon was drawing to a close, she felt the +hot blood stain her face and prickle the very roots of her hair, +as a step, heavier than a woman's, came along the soft, carpeted +hall, and seemed to pause opposite her door, which stood partially +ajar. She was sitting with her back that way, and so +the doctor only saw the outline of her graceful form bending +over her work, confessing to himself how graceful, how pliant, +how girlish it was. He noted, too, the braids of silken hair +drooping behind the well-shaped ears, just as Lily used to wear +hers. Dear Lily! Her hair was much like Rose Markham's, not +quite so dark, perhaps, or so luxuriant, for seldom had he seen +locks so abundant and glossy as those adorning Rose Markham's +head. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the twilight shadows were creeping over Terrace Hill +and into the little room, where, with doors securely shut, Adah +was preparing for her accustomed walk to the office. But what +was it which fell like a thunderbolt on her ear, riveting her to +the spot, where she stood, rigid and immovable as a block of +granite cut from the solid rock? Between the closet and Anna's +room there was only a thin partition, and when the door was +open every sound was distinctly heard. The doctor had just +come in, and it was his voice, heard for the first time, which +sent the blood throbbing so madly through Adah's veins and +made the sparks of fire dance before her eyes. She was not deceived—the +tones were too distinct, too full, too well remembered +to be mistaken, and stretching out her hands in the dim darkness, +she moaned faintly: "George! 'tis George!" and she sank +upon the floor. She could hear him now saying to Anna, as her +moan fell on his ear, "What was that Anna? Are we not alone? +I wish to speak my farewell words in private." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, all alone," Anna replied, "unless—" and stepping +to Adah's door she called twice for Rose Markham. +</p> + +<p> +But Adah, though she tried to do so, could neither move nor +speak, and Anna failed to see the figure crouching in the darkness, +poor, crushed, wretched Adah, who could not dispute her +when returning to her brother she said, "There is no one there; +Rose has gone to the post office. I heard her as she went out. +We are all alone. Was it anything particular you wished to +tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +Again the familiar tones thrilled on Adah's ears as Dr. Richards +replied: "Nothing very particular. I only wished to say +a few words, 'Lina. I want you to like her, to make up, if +possible, for the love I ought to give her." +</p> + +<p> +"Ought to give her! Oh, brother, are you taking 'Lina without +love? Better never make the vow than break it after it is +made." +</p> + +<p> +Anna spoke earnestly, and the doctor, who always tried to +retain her good opinion, replied evasively: "I suppose I do love +her as well as half the world love their wives before marriage, +but she is different from any ladies I have known; so different +from what poor Lily was. Anna, let me talk with you again of +Lily. I never told you all—but what is that?" he continued, +as he indistinctly heard the choking, gasping, stifled sob which +Adah gave at the sound of the dear pet name. Anna answered: +"It's only the rising wind. It sounds so always when it's in the +east. We surely are alone. What of Lily? Do you wish you +were going after her instead of 'Lina?" +</p> + +<p> +Oh, why did the doctor hesitate a moment? Why did he +suffer his dread of losing Anna's respect to triumph over every +other feeling? He had meant to tell her all, how he did love the +gentle girl, the little more than child, who confided herself to +him—how he loved even her memory now far more than he loved +'Lina, but something kept the full confession back, and he answered: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. We must have money, and 'Lina is rich, while +Lily was very poor, and the only friend or relation she knew was +one with whom I would not dare have you come in contact, so +wicked and reckless he was." +</p> + +<p> +This was what the doctor said, and into the brown eyes, now +bloodshot and dim with anguish, there came the hard, fierce +look, before which Alice Johnson once had shuddered, when +Adah Hastings said: +</p> + +<p> +"I should hate him! Yes, I should hate him!" +</p> + +<p> +And in that dark hour of agony Adah felt that she did hate +him. She knew now that what she before would not believe +was true. He had not made her a lawful wife, else he had +never dared to take another. +</p> + +<p> +She did not hear him now, for with that prayer, all consciousness +forsook her, and she lay on her face insensible, while at +the very last he did confess to Anna that Lily was his wife. He +did not say unlawfully so. He could not tell her that. He +said: +</p> + +<p> +"I married her privately. I would bring her back if I could, +but I cannot, and I shall marry 'Lina." +</p> + +<p> +"But," and Anna grasped his hand nervously. "I thought +you told me once, that you won her love, and then, when mother's +harsh letters came, left her without a word. Was that story +false?" +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was wading out in deep water, and in desperation +he added lie to lie, saying: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that was false. I tell you I married her, and she died. +Was I to blame for that?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no. I'd far rather it were so. I respect you more than if +you had left her. I am glad, not that she died, but that you +are not so bad as I feared. Sweet Lily," and Anna's tears flowed +fast. +</p> + +<p> +There was a knock at the door, and Jim appeared, inquiring if +the doctor would have the carriage brought around. It was +nearly time to go, and with the whispered words to Anna, "I +have told you what no one else must ever know," the doctor +descended with his sister to the parlor, where his mother was +waiting for him. The opening and shutting of the door caused +a draught of air, which, falling on the fainting Adah, restored +her to consciousness, and struggling to her feet, she tried to +think what it was that had happened. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, George! George!" she gasped. "You are worse than +I believed. You have made me an outcast, and Willie—" +</p> + +<p> +George was a greater villain than she had imagined a man +could be, and again her white lips essayed to curse him, but +the rash act was stayed by the low words whispered in her ear, +"Forgive as we would be forgiven." +</p> + +<p> +"If it were not for Willie, I might, but, oh! my boy, my +boy disgraced," was the rebellious spirit's answer, when again +the voice whispered, "And who art thou to contend against +thy God? Know you not that I am the Father of the fatherless?" +</p> + +<p> +There were tears now in Adah's eyes, the first which she had +shed. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll try," she murmured, "try to forgive the wrong, but the +strength must all be Thine," and then, though there came no +sound or motion, her heart went out in agonizing prayer, that +she might forgive even as she hoped to be forgiven. +</p> + +<p> +"God tell me what to do with Willie?" she sobbed, starting +suddenly as the answer to her prayer seemed to come at +once. "Oh, can I do that?" she moaned; "can I leave him +here?" +</p> + +<p> +At first her whole soul recoiled from it, but when she remembered +Anna, and how much she loved the child, her feelings +began to change. Anna would love him more when she knew +he was poor Lily's and her own brother's. She would be kind +to him for his father's sake, and for the sake of the girl she had +professed to like. Mrs. Richards, too, would not cast him off. +She thought too much of the Richards' blood, and there was +surely enough in Willie's veins to wipe out all taint of hers. +Willie should be bequeathed to Anna. It would break her heart +to leave him, were it not already broken, but it was better so. +It would be better in the end. He would forget her in time, +forget the girlish woman he had called mamma, unless sweet +Anna told him of her, as perhaps she might. Dear Anna, how +Adah longed to fold her arms about her once and call her sister, +but she must not. It might not be well received, for Anna had +some pride, as her waiting maid had learned. +</p> + +<p> +"A waiting maid!" Adah repeated the name, smiling bitterly +as she thought. "A waiting maid in his own home! Who would +have dreamed that I should ever come to this, when he painted +the future so grandly?" +</p> + +<p> +Then there came over her the wild, yearning desire to see his +face once more, to know if he had changed, and why couldn't +she? They supposed her gone to the office, and she would go +there now, taking the depot on the way. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Apart in the ladies' room at Snowdon depot, a veiled figure +sat—Dr. Richards' deserted wife—waiting for him, waiting to +look on his face once more ere she fled she knew not whither. +He came at last, Jim's voice speaking to his horses heralding +his approach. +</p> + +<p> +The group of rough-looking men gathered about the office did +not suit his mood, and so he came on to the ladies' apartment, +just as Adah knew he would. Pausing for a moment on the +threshold, he looked hastily in, his glance falling upon the veiled +figure sitting there so lonely and motionless. She did not care +for him, she would not object to his presence, so he came nearer +to the stove, poising his patent leathers upon the hearth, thrusting +both hands into his pockets, and even humming to himself +snatches of a song, which Lily used to sing up the three flights +of stairs in that New York boarding house. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Adah! How white and cold she grew, listening to that +air, and gazing upon the face she had loved so well. It was +changed since the night when with his kiss warm on her lips +he left her forever, changed, and for the worse. There was a +harder, a more reckless, determined expression there, a look +which better than words could have done, told that self alone +was the god he worshiped. +</p> + +<p> +Once, as he walked up and down the room, passing so near to +her that she might have touched him with her hand, she felt an +almost irresistible desire to thrust her thick brown veil aside, +and confronting him to his face, claim from him what she had a +right to claim, his name and a position as his wife—only for +Willie's sake, however; for herself she did not wish it. +</p> + +<p> +It was a relief when at last the roll of the cars was heard, +and buttoning his coat still closer around him, he turned toward +the door, half looking back to see if the veiled figure too had +risen. It had, and was standing close beside him, its outside +garments sweeping his as the crowd increased, pressing her +nearer to him, but Adah passed back into the ladies' room, and +opening the rear door was out in the street again almost before +the train had left the station. George was gone—lost to her forever! +and with a piteous moan for her ruined life, Adah kept on +her way till the post office was reached. +</p> + +<p> +There were four letters in the box—one for Mrs. Richards, +from an absent brother; one for Eudora, from Lottie Gardner; +one for Asenath, from an old friend, and at the bottom, last of +all, one for Annie Richards, faced with black, and bearing the +initial "M." upon the seal of wax. +</p> + +<p> +Adah saw all this, but it conveyed no meaning to her mind +except a vague remembrance that at some time or other, very, +very long years it seemed, Anna had bidden her keep from her +mother any letter directed to herself in a mourning envelope. +Adah retained just sense enough to do this, and separating the +letter from the others, thrust it into her pocket, and then took +her way back to Terrace Hill. +</p> + +<p> +Willie was asleep; and as Pamelia, who brought him up, had +thoughtfully undressed and placed him in bed, there was nothing +for Adah to do but think. She should go away, of course; she +could not stay there longer; but how should she tell them why +she went, and who would be her medium for communication? +</p> + +<p> +"Anna, of course," she whispered; and lighting her little +lamp, she sat down to write the letter which would tell Anna +Richards who was the waiting maid to whom she had been so +kind. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Anna," she wrote. "Forgive me for calling you so +this once, for indeed I cannot help it. You have been so kind to +me that if my heart could ache, it would ache terribly at leaving +you and knowing it was forever. I am going away from you, +Anna; and when, in the morning, you wait for me to come as +usual, I shall not be here, I could not stay and meet your +brother when he returns. Oh, Anna, Anna, how shall I begin +to tell you what I know will grieve and shock your pure nature +so dreadfully? +</p> + +<p> +"Anna!—I love to call you Anna now, for you seem, near +to me; and believe me, while I write this to you, I am conscious +of no feeling of inferiority to any one bearing your proud name. +I am, or should have been, your equal, your sister; and Willie!—oh, +my boy, when I think of him, the feeling comes and I +almost seem to be going mad! +</p> + +<p> +"Cannot you guess?—don't you know now who I am? God +forgive your brother, as I asked him to do, kneeling there by +the very chair where he sat an hour since, talking to you of Lily. +I heard him, and the sound of his voice took power and strength +away. I could not move to let you know I was there, for I was, +and I lay upon the floor till consciousness forsook me; and then, +when I awoke again, you both were gone. +</p> + +<p> +"I went to the depot, I saw him in his face to make assurance +sure, and Anna, I—oh, I don't know what I am. The world +would not call me a wife, though I believed I was; but they +cannot deal thus cruelly by Willie, or wash from his veins his +father's blood, for I—I, who write this, I who have been a servant +in the house where I should have been the mistress, am Lily—wronged, +deserted Lily—and Willie is your brother's child! His +father's look is in his face. I see it there so plainly now, and +know why that boy portrait of your brother has puzzled me so +much. But when I came here I had no suspicion, for he won +me, not as a Richards—George Hastings, that was the name by +which I knew him, and I was Adah Gordon. If you do not +believe me, ask him when he comes back if ever in his wanderings +he met with Adah Gordon, or her guardian, Mr. Monroe. +Ask if he was ever present at a marriage where this same Adah +gave her heart to one for whom she would then have lost her life, +erring in that she loved the gift more than the giver; but God +punished idolatry, and He has punished me, so sorely, oh so +sorely; that sometimes my fainting soul cries out, ''Tis more +than I can bear,'" +</p> + +<p> +Then followed more particulars so that there should be no +doubt, and then the half-crazed Adah took up the theme nearest +to her heart, her boy, her beautiful Willie. She could not take +him with her. She knew not where she was going, and Willie +must not suffer. Would Anna take the child? +</p> + +<p> +"I do not ask that the new bride should ever call him hers," +she wrote; "I'd rather she would not. I ask that you should +give him a mother's care, and if his father will sometimes speak +kindly to him for the sake of the older time when he did love +the mother, tell him—Willie's father, I mean—tell him, oh I +know not what to bid you tell him, except that I forgive him, +though at first it was so hard, and the words refused to come; +I trusted him so much, loved him so much, and until I had it +from his own lips, believed I was his wife. But that cured me; +that killed the love, if any still existed, and now, if I could, I +would not be his, unless it were for Willie's sake. +</p> + +<p> +"And now farewell. God deal with you, dear Anna, as you +deal with my boy." +</p> + +<p> +Calmly, steadily, Adah folded up the missive, and laying it +with the mourning envelope, busied herself next in making the +necessary preparations for her flight. Anna had been liberal +with her in point of wages, paying her every week, and paying +more than at first agreed upon; and as she had scarcely spent +a penny during her three months' sojourn at Terrace Hill, she +had, including what Alice had given to her, nearly forty dollars. +She was trying so hard to make it a hundred, and so send it to +Hugh some day; but she needed it most herself, and she placed +it carefully in her little purse, sighing over the golden coin +which Anna had paid her last, little dreaming for what purpose +it would be used. She would not change her dress until Anna +had retired, as that might excite suspicion; so with the same +rigid apathy of manner she sat down by Willie's side and waited +till Anna was heard moving in her room. The lamp was burning +dimly on the bureau, and so Anna failed to see the frightful +expression of Adah's face, as she performed her accustomed +duties, brushing Anna's hair, and letting her hands linger caressingly +amid the locks she might never touch again. +</p> + +<p> +It did strike Anna that something was the matter; for when +Adah spoke to her, the voice was husky and unnatural. Still, +she paid no attention until the chapter was read as usual and +"Our Father" said; then, as Adah lingered a moment, still +kneeling by the bed, she laid her soft hand on the young head, +and asked, kindly, "if it ached." +</p> + +<p> +"No, not my head, not my head," and Adah continued impetuously; +"Anna, tell me, have I pleased you?—do you like me? +would you, could you love me if I were your equal—love me as +I do you?" +</p> + +<p> +Anna noticed that the "Miss" was dropped from her name, +that her maid was treating her more familiarly than she had +ever done before; and for an instant a flush showed on her cheek, +for pride was Anna's besetting sin, the one from which she daily +prayed to be delivered. There was an inward struggle, a momentary +conflict, such as every Christian warrior has felt at +times, and then the flush was gone from the white cheek, and +her hand still lay on Adah's head, as she replied: "I do not +understand why you question me thus, but I will answer just +the same. I do like you very much, and you have always seemed +to me much like an equal. I could hardly do without you now." +</p> + +<p> +"And Willie? If I should die, or anything happen to me, +would you care for Willie?" +</p> + +<p> +There was something very earnest in Adah's tone as she +pleaded for her boy, and had Anna been at all suspicious, she +must have guessed there was something wrong. As it was, she +merely thought Adah tired and nervous. She had been thinking, +perhaps, of the deserted, and she smoothed her hair pityingly +as she replied: "Of course I'd care for Willie. He has won a +large place in my heart." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless you for that. It has made me very happy," Adah +whispered, arising to her feet and adding: "You may think me +bold, but I must kiss you once—only once—for it will be pleasant +to remember that I kissed Anna Richards." +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing cringing or even pleading in the tone. +Adah seemed to ask it as her right, and ere Anna could answer +she had pressed one burning kiss upon the smooth, white forehead +which a menial's lips had never touched before, and was +gone from the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Was she crazy, or what was it that ailed her?" Anna asked +herself, wondering more and more, the more she thought of the +strange conduct, and lying awake long after the usual hour for +sleep. +</p> + +<p> +But wakeful as she was, there was one who kept the vigils +with her, knowing exactly when she fell away at last into a +slumber all the deeper for the restlessness which had preceded +it. Anna slept very soundly as Adah knew she would, and when +toward morning a light footstep glided across her threshold she +did not hear it. The bolt was drawn, the key was turned, and +just as the clock struck three, Adah stood outside the yard, leaning +on the gate and gazing back at the huge building looming +up so dark and grand beneath the starry sky. One more prayer +for Willie and the mother-auntie to whose care she had left him, +one more straining glance at the window of the little room +where he lay sleeping, and she resolutely turned away, nor +stopped again until the Danville depot was reached the station +where in less than five minutes after her arrival the night express +stood for an instant, and then went thundering on, bearing +with it another passenger, bound for—she knew not, cared not +whither. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0036" id="h2HCH0036"></a> + CHAPTER XXXVI +</h2> +<h3> + EXCITEMENT +</h3> +<p> +They were not early risers at Terrace Hill, and the morning +following Adah's flight Anna slept later than usual; nor was it +until Willie's baby cry, calling for mamma, was heard, that she +awoke, and thinking Adah had gone down for something, she +bade Willie come to her. Putting out her arms she lifted him +carefully into her own bed, and in doing so brushed from her +pillow the letters left for her. But it did not matter then, and +for a full half hour she lay waiting for Adah's return. Growing +impatient at last, she stepped upon the floor, her bare feet +touching something cold, something which made her look down +and find that she was stepping on a letter—not one, but two—and +in wondering surprise she turned them to the light, half +fainting with excitement, when on the back of the first one +examined she saw the old familiar handwriting, and knew that +Charlie had written again! +</p> + +<p> +Anna had hardly been human had she waited an instant ere +she tore open the envelope and learned how many times and with +how little success Charlie Millbrook had written to her since his +return from India. He had not forgotten her. The love of his +early manhood had increased with his maturer years, and he +could not be satisfied until he heard from her that he was remembered +and still beloved. +</p> + +<p> +This was Charlie's letter, this what Anna read, feeling far +too happy to be angry at her mother, and delicious tears of joy +flowed over her beautiful face, as, pressing the paper to her lips, +she murmured: +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Charlie! darling Charlie! I knew he was not false, and +I thank the kind Father for bringing him at last to me." +</p> + +<p> +Hiding it in her bosom, Anna took the other letter then, +and throwing her shawl around her, for she was beginning to +shiver with cold, sat down by the window and read it through—read +it once, read it twice, read it thrice, and then—sure never +were the inmates of Terrace Hill thrown into so much astonishment +and alarm as they were that April morning, when, in her +cambric night robe, her long hair falling unbound about her +shoulders, and her bare feet, gleaming white and cold upon the +floor, Miss Anna went screaming from room to room, and asking +her wonder-stricken mother and sisters if they had any idea +who it was that had been an inmate of their house for so many +weeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Come with me, then," she almost screamed, and dragging +her mother to her room, where Willie sat up in bed, looking +curiously about him and uncertain whether to cry or to laugh, +she exclaimed, "Look at him, mother, and you, too, Asenath +and Eudora!" turning to her sisters, who had followed. "Tell +me who is he like? He is John's child. And Rose was Lily, +the young girl whom you forbade him to marry! Listen, +mother, you shall listen to what your pride has done!" and +grasping the bewildered Mrs. Richards by the arm, Anna held +her fast while she read aloud the letter left by Adah. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Richards fainted. She soon recovered, however, and +listened eagerly while Anna repeated all her brother had ever +told her of Lily. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Willie! He was there in the bed, looking curiously at +the four women, none of whom seemed quite willing to own +him save Anna. Her heart took him in at once. He had been +given to her. She would be faithful to the trust, and folding +him in her arms, she cried softly over him, kissing his little face +and calling him her darling. +</p> + +<p> +"Anna, how can you fondle such as he?" Eudora asked, +rather sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"He is our brother's child. Mother, you will not turn from +your grandson," and Anna held the boy toward her mother, who +did not refuse to take him. +</p> + +<p> +Asenath always went with her mother, and at once showed +signs of relenting by laying her hand on Willie's head and calling +him "poor boy." Eudora held out longer, but Anna knew +she would yield in time, and satisfied with Willie's reception so +far, went on to speak of Adah. Where was she, did they suppose, +and what were the best means of finding her. +</p> + +<p> +At this Mrs. Richards demurred, as did Asenath with her. +</p> + +<p> +"Adah was gone, and they had better let her go quietly. She +was nothing to them, nothing whatever, and if they took Willie +in, doing their best with him as one of the Richards' line, it was +all that could be required of them. Had Adah been John's wife, +it would of course be different, but she was not, and his marriage +with 'Lina must not now be prevented." +</p> + +<p> +This was Mrs. Richards' reasoning, but Anna's was different. +</p> + +<p> +"John had distinctly said, 'I married Lily and she died.' +Adah was mistaken about the marriage being unlawful. It was +a falsehood he told her. She was his wife, and he must not +be permitted to commit bigamy. She would tell John in private. +They need not try to dissuade her, for she should go." +</p> + +<p> +This was what Anna said, and all in vain were her mother's +entreaties to let matters take their course. Anna only replied +by going deliberately on with the preparations for her sudden +journey. She was going to find Rose, and blessing her for this +kindness to one whom they had liked so much, Dixson and +Pamelia helped to get her ready, both promising the best care +to Willie in her absence, both asking where she was going first +and both receiving the same answer, "To Albany." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Richards was too much stunned clearly to comprehend +what had happened or what would be the result; and in a kind +of apathetic maze she bade Anna good-by, and then went back +to where Willie sat upon the sofa, examining and occasionally +tearing the costly book of foreign prints which had been given +him to keep him still and make him cease his piteous wail for +"mamma." It seemed like a dream to the three ladies sitting at +home that night and talking about Anna, wondering that a person +of her weak nerves and feeble health should suddenly become +so active, so energetic, so decided, and of her own accord start +off on a long journey alone and unprotected. +</p> + +<p> +And Anna wondered at herself when the excitement of leaving +was past and the train was bearing her swiftly along on her +mission of duty. She had written a few lines to Charlie Millbrook, +telling him of her unaltered love and bidding him come +to her in three weeks' time, when she would be ready to see him. +</p> + +<p> +It was very dark and rainy, and the passengers jostled each +other rudely as they passed from the cars in Albany and hurried +to the boat. It was new business to Anna, traveling alone +and in the night, and a feeling akin to fear was creeping over +her as she wondered where she should find the eastern train. +</p> + +<p> +"Follow the crowd," seemed yelled out for her benefit, though +it was really intended for a timid, deaf old lady, who had anxiously +asked what to do of one whose laconic reply was: "Follow +the crowd." And Anna did follow the crowd which led her safely +to the waiting cars. Snugly ensconced in a seat all to herself, +she vainly imagined there was no more trouble until Cleveland +or Buffalo at least was reached. How, then, was she disappointed +when, alighting for a moment at Rochester, she found herself +in a worse babel, if possible, than had existed at Albany. Where +were all these folks going, and which was the train? "I ought +not to have alighted at all," she thought; "I might have known +I never could find my way back." Never, sure, was poor, little +woman so confused and bewildered as Anna, and it is not strange +that she stood directly upon the track, unmindful of the increasing +din and roar as the train from Niagara Falls came +thundering into the depot. It was in vain that the cabman +nearest to her helloed to warn her of the impending danger. +She never dreamed that they meant her, or suspected her great +peril, until from out of the group waiting to take that very +train, a tall figure sprang, and grasping her light form around +the waist, bore her to a place of safety—not because he guessed +that it was Annie, but because it was a human being whom he +would save from a fearful death. +</p> + +<p> +"Excuse me, madam," he began, but whatever she might have +said was lost in the low, thrilling scream of joy with which Anna +recognized him. +</p> + +<p> +"Charlie, Charlie! oh, Charlie!" she cried, burying her face +in his bosom and sobbing like a child. +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to waste in explanations; scarcely time, +indeed, for Charlie to ask where she was going, and if the necessity +to go on were imperative. +</p> + +<p> +"You won't leave me," Anna whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"Leave you, darling? No," and pressing the little fingers +twining so lovingly about his own, Charlie replied: "Whither +thou goest I will go. I shall not leave you again." +</p> + +<p> +He needed no words to tell him of the letters never received; +he knew the truth, and satisfied to have her at last he drew her +closely to him, and laying her tired head upon his bosom, gazed +fondly at the face he had not seen in many, many years. Curious, +tittering maidens, of whom there are usually one or two in +every car, looked at that couple near the door and whispered to +their companions: +</p> + +<p> +"Bride and groom. Just see how he hugs her. Some widower, +I know, married to a young wife." +</p> + +<p> +But neither Charlie nor Anna cared for the speculations to +which they were giving rise. They had found each other, and +the happiness enjoyed during the two hours which elapsed ere +Buffalo was reached more than made amends for all the lonely +years of wretchedness they had spent apart from each other. +Charlie had told Anna briefly of his life in India—had spoken +feelingly, affectionately of his gentle Hattie, who had died, blessing +him with her last breath for the kindness he had ever shown +to her; of baby Annie's grave, by the side of which he buried +the young mother; of his loneliness after that, his failing health, +his yearning for a sight of home, his embarkation for America, +his hope through all that she might still be won; his letters and +her mother's reply, which awakened his suspicions, and his last +letter which she received. +</p> + +<p> +Sweetly she chided him, amid her tears, for not coming to +her at once, telling how she had waited and watched with an +anxious heart, ever since she heard of his return; and then she +told him next where she was going, and why, sparing her brother +as much as possible, and dwelling long upon poor Lily's gentleness +and beauty. +</p> + +<p> +So it was settled that Charlie should go with her, and his +presence made her far less impatient than she would otherwise +have been, when, owing to some accident, they were delayed so +long that the Cleveland train was gone, and there was no alternative +but to wait in Buffalo. At Cincinnati there was another +detention, and it was not until the very day appointed for the +wedding that, with Charlie still beside her, Anna entered the +carriage hired at Lexington, and started for Spring Bank, +whither for a little we will precede her, taking up the narrative +prior to this day, and about the time when 'Lina first returned +from New York, laden with arrogance and airs. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0037" id="h2HCH0037"></a> + CHAPTER XXXVII +</h2> +<h3> + MATTERS AT SPRING BANK +</h3> +<p> +It had been a bright, pleasant day in March, when 'Lina was +expected home, and in honor of her arrival the house at Spring +Bank wore its most cheery aspect; not that any one was particularly +pleased because she was coming, unless it were the +mother; but it was still an event of some importance, and so +the negroes cleaned and scrubbed and scoured, wondering if +"Miss 'Lina done fotch 'em anything," while Alice arranged and +re-arranged the plainly-furnished rooms, feeling beforehand how +the contrast between them and the elegancies to which 'Lina had +recently been accustomed would affect her. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh had thought of the same thing, and much as it hurt +him to do it, he sold one of his pet colts, and giving the proceeds +to Alice, bade her use it as she saw fit. +</p> + +<p> +Spring Bank had never looked one-half so well before, and +the negroes were positive there was nowhere to be found so handsome +a room as the large airy parlor, with its new Brussels +carpet and curtains of worsted brocatelle. +</p> + +<p> +Even Hugh was somewhat of the same opinion, but then he +only looked at the room with Alice standing in its center, or +stooping in some corner to drive again a refractory nail, so it is +not strange that he should judge it favorably. Ad would be +pleased, he knew, and he gave orders that the carriage and +harness should be thoroughly cleaned, and the horses well +groomed, for he would make a good impression upon his sister. +</p> + +<p> +Alas, she was not worth the trouble, the proud, selfish creature, +who, all the way from Lexington to the Big Spring station +had been hoping Hugh would not take it into his head to meet +her, or if he did, that he would not have on his homespun suit +of gray, with his pants tucked in his boots, and so disgrace her +in the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Ford, her traveling companions, who +would see him from the window. Yes, there he was, standing +expectantly upon the platform, and she turned her head the +other way pretending not to see him until the train moved on +and Hugh compelled her notice by grasping her hand and calling +her "Sister 'Lina." +</p> + +<p> +She had acquired a certain city air by her sojourn in New +York, and in her fashionably made traveling dress and hat was +far more stylish looking than when Hugh last parted from her. +But nothing abashed he held her hand a moment while he inquired +about her journey, and then playfully added: +</p> + +<p> +"Upon my word, Ad, you have improved a heap, in looks I +mean. Of course I don't know about the temper. Spunky as +ever, eh?" and he tried to pinch her glowing cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray don't be foolish," was 'Lina's impatient reply, as she +drew away from him, and turned, with her blandest smile, to a +sprig of a lawyer from Frankfort, who chanced to be there too. +</p> + +<p> +Chilled by her manner, Hugh ordered the carriage, and told +her they were ready. Once inside the carriage, and alone with +him, 'Lina's tongue was loosened, and she poured out numberless +questions, the first of which was, what they heard from +Adah, and if it were true, as her mother had written, that she +was at Terrace Hill as Rose Markham, and that no one there +knew of her acquaintance with Spring Bank? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he supposed it was, and he did not like it either. "Ad," +and he turned his honest face full toward her, "does that doctor +still believe you rich?" +</p> + +<p> +"How do I know?" 'Lina replied, frowning gloomily. "I'm +not to blame if he does. I never told him I was." +</p> + +<p> +"But your actions implied as much, which amounts to the +same thing. It's all wrong, Ad, all wrong. Even if he loves +you, and it is to be hoped he does, he will respect you less when +he knows how you deceived him." +</p> + +<p> +"Hadn't you better interfere and set the matter right?" asked +'Lina, now really aroused. +</p> + +<p> +"I did think of doing so once," Hugh rejoined, but ere he +could say more, 'Lina grasped his arm fiercely, her face dark +with passion as she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh, if you meddle, you'll rue the day. It's my own affair, +and I know what I'm doing." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not intend to meddle, though I encouraged Adah in her +wild plan of going to Terrace Hill, because I thought they would +learn from her just how rich we are. But Adah has foolishly +taken another name, and says nothing of Spring Bank. I don't +like it, neither does Miss Johnson. Indeed, I sometimes think +she is more anxious than I am." +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Johnson," and 'Lina spoke disdainfully, "I'd thank +her to mind her own business. Hugh, you are getting a ministerial +kind of look, and you have not sworn at me once since +we met. I guess Alice has converted you. Well, I only hope +you'll not backslide." +</p> + +<p> +'Lina laughed hatefully, and evidently expected an outburst +of passion, but though Hugh turned very white, he made her +no reply, and they proceeded on in silence, until they came in +sight of Spring Bank, when 'Lina broke out afresh. +</p> + +<p> +Such a tumble-down shanty as that. It was not fit for decent +people to live in, and mercy knew she was glad her sojourn there +was to be short. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not alone in that feeling," came dryly from Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina said he was a very affectionate brother; that she was +glad there were those who appreciated her, even if he did not, +and then the carriage stopped at Spring Bank. Mrs. Worthington +was hearty in her welcome, for her mother heart went out +warmly toward her daughter. Oh, what airs 'Lina did put on, +offering the tips of her fingers to good Aunt Eunice, trying to +patronize Alice herself, and only noticing Densie Densmore with +a haughty stare. +</p> + +<p> +Old Densie had for the last few days been much in 'Lina's +mind. She had disliked her at Saratoga, and somehow it made +her feel uncomfortable every time she thought of finding her at +Spring Bank. Densie had never forgotten 'Lina, and many a +time had she recalled the peculiar expression of her black eyes, +shuddering as she remembered how much they were like another +pair of eyes whose gleams of passion had once thrilled her with +terror. +</p> + +<p> +"Upon my word," 'Lina began, as she entered the pleasant +parlor, "this is better than I expected. Somebody has been very +kind for my sake. Miss Johnson, I'm sure it's you I have to +thank," and with a little flash of gratitude she turned to Alice, +who replied in a low tone: +</p> + +<p> +"Thank your brother. He made a sacrifice for the sake of +surprising you." +</p> + +<p> +Whether it was with a desire to appear amiable in Alice's +eyes, or because she really was touched with Hugh's generosity, +'Lina involuntarily threw her arm around his neck, and gave to +him a kiss which he remembered for many, many years. At +the nicely prepared dinner served soon after her arrival, a cloud +lowered on 'Lina's brow, induced by the fact that Densie Densmore +was permitted a seat at the table, a proceeding sadly at +variance with 'Lina's lately acquired ideas of aristocracy. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly that very day she sought an opportunity to speak +with her mother when she knew that Densie was in an adjoining +room. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother," she began, "why do you suffer that woman to +come to the table? Is it a whim of Alice's, or what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you allude to Mrs. Densmore. I couldn't at first imagine +whom you meant," Mrs. Worthington replied, going on to say +how foolish it was for 'Lina to assume such airs, that Densie +was as good as anybody, or at all events was a quiet, well-behaved +woman, worthy of respect, and that Hugh would as soon +stay away himself as banish her from the table because she had +once been a servant. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but consider Dr. Richards when he comes. What must +he think of us? At the North they recognize white niggers as +well as black. I tell you I won't have it, and unless you speak +to her, I shall." +</p> + +<p> +'Lina ate her supper exultingly, free from Densie's presence, +caring little for the lonely old woman whose lip quivered and +whose tears started every time that she remembered the slighting +words accidentally overheard. +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly the days went by, bringing callers to see 'Lina; Ellen +Tiffton, who received back her jewelry, never guessing that the +bracelet she clasped upon her arm was not the same lent so many +months ago. Ellen was to be bridesmaid, inasmuch as Alice +preferred to be more at liberty, and see that matters went on +properly. This brought Ellen often to Spring Bank, and as +'Lina was much with her, Alice was left more time to think. +Adah's continued silence with regard to Dr. Richards had +troubled her at first, but now she felt relieved. 'Lina had stated +distinctly that ere coming to Kentucky, he was going to Terrace +Hill, and Adah's last letter had said the same. She would +see him then, and if—if he were George—alas! for the unsuspecting +girl who fluttered gayly in the midst of her bridal +finery, and wished the time would come when she could "escape +from that hole, and go back to dear, delightful Fifth Avenue +Hotel." +</p> + +<p> +The time which hung so heavily upon her hands was flying +rapidly, and at last only one week intervened ere the eventful +day. Hugh had gone down to Frankfort on some errand for +'Lina, and as he passed the penitentiary, he thought, as he always +did now, of the convict Sullivan. Was he there still, and +if so, why could he not see him face to face, and question +him of the past? +</p> + +<p> +Three hours later and Hugh Worthington was confronting +the famous negro stealer, who gave him back glance for glance, +and stood as unflinchingly before him as if there were upon his +conscience no Adah Hastings, who, by his connivance, had been +so terribly wronged. At the mention of her name, however, his +bold assurance left him. There was a quivering of the muscles +about his mouth, and his whole manner was indicative of strong +emotion as he asked if Hugh knew aught of her since that fatal +night, and then listened while Hugh told what he knew and +where she had gone. +</p> + +<p> +"To Terrace Hill—into the Richards family; this was no +chance arrangement?" and the convict spoke huskily, asking +next for the doctor; and still Hugh did not suspect the magnitude +of the plot, and answered by telling how Dr. Richards was +coming soon to make 'Lina his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh was not looking at his companion then, or he would +have been appalled by the livid, fearful expression which for an +instant flashed on his face. Accustomed to conceal his feelings, +the convict did so now; and asked calmly when the wedding +would take place. Hugh named the day and hour, and then +asked if Sullivan knew aught of Adah's husband. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, everything," and the convict said vehemently, "Young +man, I cannot tell you now—there is not time, but wait a little +and you shall know the whole. You are interested in Adah. +The wedding, you say, is Thursday night. My time expires on +Tuesday. Don't think me impudent if I ask a list of the invited +guests. Will you give it to me?" +</p> + +<p> +Surely there was some deep mystery here, and he made no +reply till Sullivan again asked for the list. The original paper +on which Hugh had first written the few names of those to be +invited chanced to be in his vest pocket, and mechanically taking +it out he passed it to the convict, who expressed his thanks, and +added: "Don't say that you have seen me, or that I shall be +present at that wedding. I shall only come for good, but I shall +surely be there." +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0038" id="h2HCH0038"></a> + CHAPTER XXXVIII +</h2> +<h3> + THE DAY OF THE WEDDING +</h3> +<p> +Dr. Richards had arrived at Spring Bank. Hugh was the +first to meet him. For a moment he scrutinized the stranger's +face earnestly, and then asked if they had never met before. +</p> + +<p> +"Not to my knowledge," the doctor replied in perfect good +faith, for he had no suspicion that the man eying him so closely +was the one witness of his marriage with Adah, the stranger +whom he scarcely noticed, and whose name he had forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Once fully in the light, where Hugh could discern the features +plainer, he began to be less sure of having met his guest before, +for that immense mustache and those well-trimmed whiskers had +changed the doctor's physiognomy materially. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina was glad to see the doctor. She had even cried at his +delay, and though no one knew it, had sat up nearly the whole +preceding night, waiting and listening by her open window for +any sound to herald his approach. +</p> + +<p> +As the result of this long vigil, her head ached dreadfully +the next day, and even the doctor noticed her burning cheeks +and watery eyes, and feeling her rapid pulse asked if she were +ill. +</p> + +<p> +She was not, she said; she had only been troubled because he +did not come, and then for once in her life she did a womanly +act. She laid her head in the doctor's lap and cried, just as she +had done the previous night. He understood the cause of her +tears at last, and touched with a greater degree of tenderness +for her than he had ever before experienced, he smoothed her +glossy black hair, and asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Would you be very sorry to lose me?" +</p> + +<p> +Selfish and hard as she was, 'Lina loved the doctor, and with +a shudder as she thought of the deception imposed on him, and +a half regret that she had so deceived him, she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I am not worthy of you. I do love you very much, and it +would kill me to lose you now. Promise that when you find, as +you will, how bad I am, you will not hate me!" +</p> + +<p> +It was an attempt at confession, but the doctor did not so +construe it. Poor 'Lina. It is not often we have seen her thus—gentle, +softened, womanly; so we will make the most of it, and +remember it in the future. +</p> + +<p> +The bright sunlight of the next morning was very exhilarating, +and though the doctor, who had risen early, was disappointed +in Spring Bank, he was not at all suspicious, and +greeted his bride-elect kindly, noticing, while he did so, how +her cheeks alternately paled, and then grew red, while she +seemed to be chilly and cold. 'Lina had passed a wretched +night, tossing from side to side, bathing her throbbing head +and rubbing her aching limbs. The severe cold taken in the +wet yard was making itself visible, and she came to the breakfast +table jaded, wretched and sick, a striking contrast to Alice +Johnson, who seemed to the doctor more beautiful than ever. +She was unusually gay this morning, for while talking to Dr. +Richards, whom she had met in the parlor, she had, among +other things concerning Snowdon, said to him, casually, as it +seemed: +</p> + +<p> +"Anna has a waiting maid at last. You saw her, of course?" +</p> + +<p> +Somehow the doctor fancied Alice wished him to say yes, +and as he had seen Adah's back, he replied at once: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, I saw her. Fine looking for a servant. Her little +boy is splendid." +</p> + +<p> +Alice was satisfied. The shadow lifted from her spirits. Dr. +Richards was not George Hastings. He was not the villain +she had feared, and 'Lina might have him now. Poor 'Lina. +Alice felt almost as if she had done her a wrong by suspecting +the doctor, and was very kind to her that day. Poor 'Lina, we +say it again, for hard, and wicked, and treacherous, and unfilial, +as she had ever been, she had need for pity on this her +wedding day. Retribution, terrible and crushing, was at hand, +hurrying on in the carriage bringing Anna Richards to Spring +Bank, and on the fleet-footed steed bearing the convict swiftly +up the Frankfort pike. +</p> + +<p> +'Lina could not tell what ailed her. Her<i>hauteur</i>of manner +was all gone, and Mug, who had come into the room to see "the +finery," was not chidden or told to let them alone, while Densie, +who, at Alice's suggestion, brought her a glass of wine, was +kindly thanked, and even asked to stay if she liked while the +dressing went on. But Densie did not care to, and she left +the room just as the mud-bespattered vehicle containing Anna +Richards drove up, Mr. Millbrook having purposely stopped in +Versailles, thinking it better that Anna should go on alone. +</p> + +<p> +It was Ellen of course, 'Lina said, and so the dressing continued, +and she was all unsuspicious of the scene enacting +below, in the room where Anna met her brother alone. She +had not given Hugh her name. She simply asked for Dr. Richards, +and conducting her into the parlor, hung with bridal +decorations, Hugh went for the doctor, amusing himself on the +back piazza with the sprightly Mug, who when asked if she were +not sorry Miss 'Lina was going off, had naïvely answered: +</p> + +<p> +"No-o—sir, 'case she done jaw so much, and pull my har. +I tell you, she's a peeler. Is you glad she's gwine?" +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was not quite certain, but answered: "Yes, very +glad," just as Hugh announced "a lady who wished to see him." +</p> + +<p> +Mechanically the doctor took his way to the parlor, while +Hugh resumed his seat by the window, where for the last hour +he had watched for the coming of one who had said, "I will +be there." +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later, had he looked into the parlor, he would +have seen a frightened, white-faced man crouching at Anna +Richards' side and whispering to her as if all life, all strength, +all power to act for himself were gone: +</p> + +<p> +"What must I do? Tell me what to do." +</p> + +<p> +This was a puzzle to Anna, and she replied by asking him +another question. "Do you love 'Lina Worthington?" +</p> + +<p> +"I—I—no, I guess I don't; but she's rich, and—" +</p> + +<p> +With a motion of disgust Anna cut him short, saying: "Don't +make me despise you more than I do. Until your lips confessed +it, I had faith that Lily was mistaken, that your marriage +was honorable, at least, even if you tired of it afterward. +You are worse than I suppose and now you speak of money. +What shall you do? Get up and not sit whining at my feet +like a puppy. Find Lily, of course, and if she will stoop to listen +a second time to your suit, make her your wife, working to +support her until your hands are blistered, if need be." +</p> + +<p> +Anna hardly knew herself in this phase of her character, and +her brother certainly did not. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be hard on me, Anna," he said, looking at her in a +kind of dogged, uncertain way. "I'll do what you say, only +don't be hard. It's come so sudden, that my head is like a +whirlpool. Lily, Willie, Willie. The child I saw, you mean—yes, +the child—I—saw—did it say he—was—my—boy?" +</p> + +<p> +The words were thick and far apart. The head drooped +lower and lower, the color all left the lips, and in spite of +Anna's vigorous shakes, or still more vigorous hartshorn, overtaxed +nature gave way, and the doctor fainted at last. It was +Anna's turn now to wonder what she should do, and she was +about summoning aid from some quarter when the door opened +suddenly, and Hugh ushered in a stranger—the convict, who +had kept his word, and came to tell what he knew of this complicated +mystery, about which every invited guest was talking, +and which was keeping Ellen Tiffton at home in a fever of excitement +to know what it all meant. +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"There will be no bridal at Spring Bank to-night, and if the +invited guests have any respect for the family, they will remain +quietly at home, restraining their curiosity until another day. +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="smcaps">"One Who Has Authority."</span> +</p></div> +<p> +Such were the contents of the ten different notes left at ten +different houses in the neighborhood of Spring Bank that April +day, by a strange horseman, who carried them all himself and +saw that they were delivered. +</p> + +<p> +The rider kept on his way, reining his panting steed at last +before the door of Spring Bank, and casting about him anxious +glances as he sprang up the steps. There was nobody in sight +but Hugh, who was expecting him, and who, in reply to his +inquiries for the doctor, told where he was, and that a stranger +was with him. There was a low, hurried conversation between +the two, a partial revelation of the business which had brought +Sullivan to the house where were congregated so many of his +victims; and at its close Hugh's face was deadly white, for +he knew now that he had met Dr. Richards before, and that +'Lina could not be his wife. +</p> + +<p> +"The villain!" he muttered, involuntarily clinching his fist +as if to smite the dastard as he followed Sullivan into the +parlor, starting back when he saw the prostrate form upon the +floor, and heard the lady say: "My brother, sir, has fainted." +</p> + +<p> +She was Anna, then; and Hugh guessed rightly why she was +there. +</p> + +<p> +"Madam," he began, but ere another word was uttered, there +fell upon his ear a shriek which seemed to cleave the very air +and made even the fainting man move in his unconsciousness. +</p> + +<p> +It was Mrs. Worthington, who, with hands outstretched as if +to keep him off, stood upon the threshold, gazing in mute terror +at the horror of her life, whispering incoherently: "What is it, +Hugh? How came he here? Save me, save me from him!" +</p> + +<p> +A look, half of sorrow, half of contempt, flitted across the +stranger's face as he answered for Hugh kindly, gently: "Is +the very sight of me so terrible to you, Eliza? I am only here +to set matters right. Here for our daughter's sake. Eliza, +where is our child?" +</p> + +<p> +He had drawn nearer to her as he said this last, but she +intuitively turned to Hugh, who started suddenly, growing +white and faint as a suspicion of the truth flashed upon him. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother?" he began, interrogatively, winding his arm about +her, for she was the weaker of the two. +</p> + +<p> +She knew what he would ask, and with her eye still upon the +man who fascinated her gaze, she answered, sadly: "Forgive +me, Hugh. He was—my husband; he is—'Lina's father, not +yours, Hugh—oh! Heaven be praised, not yours!" and she +clung closely to her boy, as if glad one child, at least, was not +tainted with the Murdock blood. +</p> + +<p> +The convict smiled bitterly, and said to Hugh himself: +</p> + +<p> +"Your mother is right. She was once my wife, but the law +set her free from the galling chain. Will some one call Densie +Densmore in? I may need her testimony." +</p> + +<p> +No one volunteered to go for Densie Densmore, and he was +about repeating his request, when Alice came tripping down +the stairs, and pausing at the parlor door, looked in. +</p> + +<p> +"Anna!" she exclaimed, but uttered no other sound for the +terror of something terrible, which kept her silent. +</p> + +<p> +She stood looking from one to the other, until the convict +said: +</p> + +<p> +"Young lady, will you call in Densie Densmore? And stay, +let the bride know. She is wanted, too. I may as well confront +all my victims at once." +</p> + +<p> +Alice never knew what she said to Densie, or 'Lina either. +She was only conscious of following them both down the stairs +and into that dreadful room. No one had said that she was +wanted, but she could not keep away. She must go, and she +did, keeping close to Densie, who took but one step, then with +a delirious laugh, she darted upon the stranger like a tigress, +and seizing his arm, said, between a shriek and hiss: +</p> + +<p> +"David Murdock, why are you here, a wolf in the sheepfold? +Tell me, where is my stolen daughter?" +</p> + +<p> +For an instant the convict regarded the raving woman, and +then, as if in answer to her question, with a half nod, his glance +rested on 'Lina, who, too much terrified to speak, had crept +near to her affianced husband, now returning to consciousness. +Hugh alone saw the nod, and it brought him at once to 'Lina, +where, with his arm upon her chair, he stood as if he would +protect her. Noble Hugh! 'Lina never knew one-half how +good and generous he was until just as she was losing him. +</p> + +<p> +"Densie," the convict said, trying in vain to shake off the +hand which held him so firmly: "Densie, be calm, and wait, +as you see the others doing. They all, save one, are interested +in me." +</p> + +<p> +"But my daughter, my stolen daughter. I'll have her, or +your life!" was Densie's fierce reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Auntie," and Alice glided to Densie's side. +</p> + +<p> +She alone could control that strange being, roused now as +she had not been roused in years. At the sound of her voice, and +the touch of her fingers on her hand, Densie released her hold +and suffered herself to be led to a chair, while Alice knelt beside +her. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's hesitancy, and his face flushed and +paled alternately ere the convict could summon courage to +begin. +</p> + +<p> +"Take this seat, sir, you need it," Hugh said, bringing him +a chair and then resuming his watch over 'Lina, who involuntarily +leaned her throbbing head upon his arm, and with the +others listened to that strange tale of sin. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0039" id="h2HCH0039"></a> + CHAPTER XXXIX +</h2> +<h3> + THE CONVICT'S STORY +</h3> +<p> +"It is not an easy task to confess how bad one has been," +the stranger said, "and once no power could have tempted me +to do it; but several years of prison life have taught me some +wholesome lessons, and I am not the same man I was when, +Densie Densmore"—and his glance turned toward her—"when +I met you, and won your love. Against you first I sinned. You +are my oldest victim, and it's meet I should begin with you." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, with me—me first, and tell me quick of my stolen +baby," she faintly moaned. +</p> + +<p> +Her ferocity of manner all was gone, and the poor, white-haired +creature sat quietly where Alice had put her, while the +story proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Densie, but these do not, how I won your love +with promises of marriage, and then deserted you just when you +needed me most. I had found new prey by that time—was on +the eve of marriage with one who was too good for me. I left +you and married Mrs. Eliza Worthington. I—" +</p> + +<p> +The story was interrupted at this point by a cry from 'Lina, +who moaned: +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, oh no! He is not my father; is he, Hugh? Tell +me no. John, Dr. Richards, pray look at me and say it's all +a dream, a dreadful dream! Oh, Hugh!" and to the brother, +scorned so often, poor 'Lina turned for sympathy, while the +stranger continued: +</p> + +<p> +"It would be useless for me to say now that I loved her, +Eliza, but I did, and when I heard soon after my marriage that +I was a father, I said: 'Densie will never rest now until she +finds me, and she must not come between me and Eliza," so I +feigned an excuse and left my new wife for a few weeks. Eliza, +you remember I said I had business in New York, and so I +had. I went to Densie Densmore. I professed sorrow for the +past. I made her believe me, and then laid a most diabolical +plan. Money will do anything, and I had more than people +supposed. I had a mother, too, at that time, a woman old +and infirm, and good, even if I was her son. To her I went with +a tale, half false, half true. There was a little child, I said, +a little girl, whose mother was not my wife. I would have +made her so, I said, but she died at the child's birth. Would +my mother take that baby for my sake? She did not refuse, +so I named a day when I would bring it. 'Twas that day, +Densie, when I took you to the museum, and on pretense of a +little business I must transact at a house in Park Row, I left +you for an hour, but never went back again." +</p> + +<p> +"No, never back again—never. I waited so long, waited +till I almost thought I heard my baby cry, and then went home; +but baby was gone. Alice, do you hear me?—baby was gone;" +and the poor, mumbling creature, rocking to and fro, buried +her bony fingers in Alice's fair hair. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Densie! poor auntie!" was all Alice said, as she regarded +with horror the man, who went on: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, baby was gone—gone to my mother's, in a part of the +city where there was no probability of its being found and I was +gone, too. You are shocked, fair maiden, and well you may +be," the convict said. +</p> + +<p> +"In course of time there was a daughter born to me and to +Eliza; a sweet little, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl, whom we +named Adaline." +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively every one in that room glanced at the black +eyes and hair of 'Lina, marveling at the change. +</p> + +<p> +"I loved this little girl, as it was natural I should, more +than I loved the other, whose mother was a servant. Besides +that, she was not so deeply branded as the other; see—" and +pushing back the thick locks from his forehead, he disclosed +his birthmark, while 'Lina suddenly put her hand where she +knew there was another like it. +</p> + +<p> +"At last there came a separation. Eliza would not live with +me longer and I went away, but pined so for my child that I +contrived to steal her, and carried her to my mother, where was +the other one. 'Twas there you tracked me, Densie. You +came one day, enacting a fearful scene, and frightening my +children until they fled in terror and hid away from your sight." +</p> + +<p> +"I remember, I remember now. That's where I heard the +name," 'Lina said, while the convict continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I said you were a mad woman. I made mother believe it; +but she never recovered from the shock, and six weeks after +your visit, I was alone with my two girls, Densie and Adaline. +I could not attend to them both, and so I sent one to Eliza and +kept the other myself, hiring a housekeeper, and to prevent +being dogged by Densie again, I passed as Mr. Monroe Gordon, +guardian to the little child whom I loved so much." +</p> + +<p> +"That was Adah," fell in the whisper from the doctor's lips, +but caught the ear of no one. +</p> + +<p> +All were too intent upon the story, which proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +"She grew, and grew in beauty, my fair, lovely child, and I +was wondrously proud of her, giving her every advantage in +my power. I sent her to the best of schools, and even looked +forward to the day when she should take the position she was +so well fitted to fill. After she was grown to girlhood we +boarded, she as the ward, I as the guardian still, and then +one unlucky day I stumbled upon you, Dr. John, but not until +you had first stumbled upon my daughter, and been charmed +with her beauty, passing yourself as some one else—as George +Hastings, I believe—lest your fashionable associates should +know how the aristocratic Dr. Richards was in love with a poor, +unknown orphan, boarding up two flights of stairs." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is he talking about, Hugh? Does he mean me? My +head throbs so, I don't quite understand," 'Lina said, piteously, +while Hugh held the poor aching head against his bosom, +crushing the orange blossoms, and whispering softly: +</p> + +<p> +"He means Adah." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Adah," the convict rejoined. "John Richards fancied +Adah Gordon, as she was called, but loved his pride and position +more. I'll do you justice, though, young man, I believe +at one time you really and truly loved my child, and but for +your mother's letters might have married her honorably. But +you were afraid of that mother. Your pride was stronger than +your love; and as I was determined that you should have my +daughter, I proposed a mock marriage." +</p> + +<p> +"Monster! You, her father, planned that fiendish act!" and +Alice's blue eyes flashed indignantly upon him, while Hugh, +forgetting that the idea was not new to him, walked up before +the "monster," as if to lay him at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, while I explain, and you will see the monster had +an object," returned the stranger, speaking to Alice, instead of +Hugh. "There were several reasons why I wished Adah to +marry Dr. Richards, and as one of them concerns this scar +upon my forehead, I will tell you here its history. You, +madam," addressing himself to Anna, "have probably heard +how your greatgrandfather died." +</p> + +<p> +"It happened almost a century of years ago, when there was +not the difference of position between the proud Richards line +and the humble Murdocks that there is now. Your greatgrandfather +and mine were friends, boon companions, but one fatal +night, when more wine than usual had been drunk, there arose +a fearful quarrel between the two, and with a knife snatched +from a sideboard standing near, Murdock gave his comrade +a blow which resulted in his death. Sobered at once, and nearly +beside himself with terror, he rushed frantically to the chamber +of his sleeping wife, and laying his blood-wet hands upon her +brow, screamed for her to rise, which she did immediately, +nearly fainting, it is said, when by the light of the lamp her +husband bore, she saw the bloody print upon her forehead. +Three months afterward my grandfather was born, and over his +left temple was the hated mark which has clung to us ever +since, and which a noted clairvoyant predicted would never +disappear until the feudal parties came together, and a Murdock +wedding with a Richards. The offspring of such union +would be without taint or blemish, he said, and I am told, sir, +your boy is fair as alabaster." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Richards, to whom this appeal was made, only stared +blankly at him, like one who hears in a dream, but 'Lina, +catching at everything pertaining to the doctor, said, quickly: +</p> + +<p> +"His boy! Where is his boy? Oh, what does it all +mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Poor girl!" and the convict spoke sorrowfully. "I did +not think she would take it so hard, but the worst is not yet +told, and I must hasten. I ingratiated myself at once into +John Richards' good graces and when I knew it would answer, +I suggested a mock marriage. First, however, I would know +something definite of his family as they were then, and so, +as a Mr. Morris, who wished to purchase a country seat, I +went to Snowdon, and after some inquiries in the village, forced +my way to Terrace Hill. The lady listening to me was the only +one I saw, and I felt sure she at least would be kind to Adah. +On my return to New York, I urged the marriage more pertinaciously +than at first, saying, by way of excusing myself, +that as I was only Adah's guardian, I could not, of course, +feel toward her as a near relative would feel—that as I had +already expended large sums of money on her, I was getting +tired of it, and would be glad to be released, hinting, by way +of smoothing the fiendish proposition, my belief that, from constant +association, he would come to love her so much that at +last he would really and truly make her his wife. He did +hesitate—he did seem shocked, and if I remember rightly, called +me a brute, an unnatural guardian, and all that; but little by +little I gained ground, until at last he consented, and I hurried +the matter at once, lest he should repent. +</p> + +<p> +"I had an acquaintance, I said, who lived a few miles from +the city—a man who, for money, would do anything, and who, +as a feigned justice of the peace, would go through with the +ceremony, and ever after keep his own counsel. I wonder the +doctor did not make some inquiries concerning this so-called +justice, but I think I am right in saying that he is not remarkably +clear-headed, and this weakness saved me much +trouble, and after a long time I arranged the matter with my +friend, who was a lawful justice, staying with his brother, at +that time absent in Europe. This being done, I decided upon +Hugh Worthington for a witness, as being the person, of all +the world, who should be present at Adah's bridal. He had +recently come to New York. I had accidentally made his acquaintance, +acquiring so strong an influence over him that I +could almost mold him to my will. I did not tell him what I +wanted until I had tempted him with drugged wine, and he +did not realize what he was doing. He knew enough, however, +to sign his name and to salute the bride, who really was a bride, +as lawful a one as any who ever turned from the altar where +she had registered her vows." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, joy, joy!" and Alice sprang at once to her feet, +and hastening to the doctor's side, said to him, authoritatively: +</p> + +<p> +"You hear, you understand, Adah is your wife, your very +own, and you must go back to her at once. She's in your own +home as Rose Markham. She went from here, Adah Hastings, +whose husband's name was George. You do understand me?" +and Alice grew very earnest as the doctor failed to rouse up, +as she thought he ought to do. +</p> + +<p> +Appealing next to Anna, she continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, make him comprehend that his wife is at Terrace +Hill." +</p> + +<p> +Very gently Anna answered: +</p> + +<p> +"She was there, but she has gone. He knows it; I came to +tell him, but she fled immediately after recognizing my brother, +and left a letter revealing the whole." +</p> + +<p> +It had come to 'Lina by this time that Dr. Richards could +never be her husband, and with a bitter cry, she covered her +face with her hands, and went shivering to the corner where +Mrs. Worthington sat, as if a mother's sympathy were needed +now, and coveted as it had never been before. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, mother," she sobbed, laying her head in Mrs. Worthington's +lap, "I wish I had never been born." +</p> + +<p> +Sadly her wail of disappointment rang through the room, and +then the convict went on with his interrupted narrative. +</p> + +<p> +"When the marriage was over, Mr. Hastings took his wife +to another part of the city, hiding her from his fashionable +associates, staying with her most of the time, and appearing +to love her so much that I thought it would not be long before +I should venture to tell him the truth. I went South on a little +business which a companion and myself had planned together—the +very laudable business of stealing negroes from one State +and selling them in another. Some of you know that I was +caught in my traffic, and that the negro stealer Sullivan, was +safely lodged in prison, from which he was released but two +days since. Fearing there might be some mistake, I wrote from +my prison home to Adah herself, but suppose it did not reach +New York till after she had left it. My poor, dear little girl, +thoughts of her have helped to make me a better man than I +ever was before. I am not perfect now, but I certainly am +not as hard, as wicked, or bad as when I first wore the felon's +dress." +</p> + +<p> +A casual observer would have said that Densie Densmore had +heard less of that strange story than any one else, but her +hearing faculties had been sharpened, and not a word was +missed by her—not a link lost in the entire narrative, and +when the narrator expressed his love for his daughter, she +darted upon him again, shrieking wildly: +</p> + +<p> +"And that child whom you loved was the baby you stole, and +I shall see her again—shall hear that blessed name of mother +from her own sweet lips." +</p> + +<p> +A little apart from the others, his eyes fixed earnestly upon +the convict, stood Hugh. His mind, too, had gathered in every +fact, but he had reached a widely different conclusion from +what poor Densie had. +</p> + +<p> +"Answer her," he said, gravely, as the convict did not reply. +"Tell her if Adah be her child, or—'Lina—which?" +</p> + +<p> +Had a clap of thunder cleft the air around her, 'Lina could +not have started up sooner than she did. The convict took his +eyes away from her, pitying her so much, while Densie's bony +hand was raised as if to thrust her off, and Densie's voice exclaimed: +"Not this, not this. She despises me, a white nigger. +I will not be her mother. The other one—Densie, I named her—she +is mine—" +</p> + +<p> +The convict shook his head. "No, Densie, not Adah, I kept +her, my lawful child, and sent the other back. It was a bold +move, and I wonder it was not questioned, but Adaline's eyes +were not so black then as they are now, and though six months +older than the other, she was small for her age, and cannot now +be so tall as Adah. The mark, too, must have strengthened the +deception, as I knew it would, and eighteen months sometimes +changes a child materially; so Eliza took it for granted that +the girl she received as Adaline, and whose real name was +Densie, was her own; but Adah Hastings is her daughter and +Hugh's half-sister, while this young woman is—the child of myself +and Densie Densmore!" +</p> + +<p> +Alice, Anna, and the doctor looked aghast, while Mrs. Worthington +murmured audibly: "Adah, Adah, darling Adah, she +always seemed near to me; and Willie, precious Willie—oh, I +want them here now!" +</p> + +<p> +One mother had claimed her own, but alas, the fond cry of +welcome to sweet Adah Hastings was a death knell to 'Lina, +for it seemed to shut her out of that gentle woman's heart. +There was no place for her, and in her terrible desolation she +stood alone, her eyes wandering wistfully from one to another, +but turning very quickly when they fell on the white-haired +Densie, her mother. She would not have it so; she could not +own the woman she had affected to despise, that servant for +her mother, that villain for her father, and worse—oh, infinitely +worse than all—she had no right to be born! A child +of sin and shame, disgraced, disowned, forsaken. It was a +terrible blow, and the proud girl staggered beneath it. +</p> + +<p> +"Will no one speak to me?" she said, at last; "no one break +this dreadful silence? Has everybody forsaken me? Do you +all loathe and hate the offspring of such parents? Won't somebody +pity and care for me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, 'Lina," and Hugh—the one from whom she had the +least right to expect pity—Hugh came to her side; and winding +his arm around her, said, with a choking voice: "I will not +forsake you, 'Lina; I will care for you the same as ever, and +so long as I have a home you shall have one, too." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Hugh, I don't deserve this from you!" was 'Lina's faint +response, as she laid her head upon his bosom, whispering: +"Take me away—from them all—upstairs—on the bed I am so +sick, and my head is bursting open!" +</p> + +<p> +Hugh was strong as a young giant, and lifting gently the +yielding form, he bore it from the room—the bridal room, which +she would never enter again, until he brought her back—and +laid her softly down beneath the windows, dropping tears upon +her white, still face, and whispering: +</p> + +<p> +"Poor 'Lina!" +</p> + +<p> +As Hugh passed out with his burden in his arms, the bewildered +company seemed to rally; but the convict was the +first to act. Turning to Mrs. Worthington he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Eliza, I am here to-night for my children's sake; and now +that I have done what I came to do, I shall leave you, only +asking that you continue to be a mother to the poor girl who +is really the only sufferer. The rest have cause for joy; you in +particular," turning to the doctor, who suddenly seemed to +break the spell which had bound him, and springing to his +feet, exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Lily shall he found, Lily shall be found; but I must +see my boy first. Anna, can't we go now, to-night?" +</p> + +<p> +That was impossible, Alice said; and as hers was the only +clear head in the household, she set herself at once to plan for +everybody. To the convict and the doctor she paid no heed; +but the tired Anna was conducted at once to her own room, and +made to take the rest she so much needed. Densie too was +cared for kindly, soothingly; for the poor old woman was nearly +crushed with all she had heard; and Alice, as she left her upon +the bed, heard her muttering deliriously to herself: +</p> + +<p> +"She wouldn't let her own mother eat with her. She compared +me to a white nigger; and can I receive her now? No, +no; and she don't wish it. Yet I pitied her when her heart +snapped to pieces there in the middle of the room; poor girl, +poor girl!" +</p> + +<p> +When Alice returned again to the parlor, the convict had +gone. There had been a short consultation between himself and +the doctor, an engagement to meet in Cincinnati to arrange +their plan of search; and then he had turned again to his once +wife, still sitting in her corner, motionless, white, and paralyzed +with nervous terror. +</p> + +<p> +"You need not fear me, Eliza," he said, kindly, "I shall +probably never trouble you again; and though you have no +cause to believe my word, I tell you solemnly that I will never +rest until I have found our daughter, and sent her back to you. +Be kind to Densie Densmore; she was more sinned against +than sinning. Good-by, Eliza, good-by." +</p> + +<p> +He did not offer her his hand; he knew she would not touch +it; but with one farewell look of contrition and regret, he left +her, and mounting the horse which had brought him there, he +dashed away from Spring Bank, just as Colonel Tiffton reined +up to the gate. +</p> + +<p> +Nell would give him no peace until he went over to see +what it all meant and if there really was to be no wedding. +It was Alice who met him in the hall, explaining to him as +much as she thought necessary, and asking him, on his return, +to wait a little by the field gate, and turn back any other guest +who might be on the road. +</p> + +<p> +The colonel promised compliance with her request, and thus +were kept away two carriage loads of people whose curiosity had +prompted them to disregard the contents of the note brought to +them so mysteriously. +</p> + +<p> +Spring Bank was not honored with wedding guests that +night; and when the clock struck eight, the appointed hour for +the bridal, only the bridegroom sat in the dreary parlor, his +head bent down upon the sofa arm, and his chest heaving with +the sobs he could not repress as he thought of all poor Lily +had suffered since he left her so cruelly. Hugh had told him +what he did not understand before. He had come into the +room for his mother, whom 'Lina was pleading to see; and +after leading her to the chamber of the half-delirious girl, he +had returned to the doctor, and related to him all he knew of +Adah, dwelling long upon her gentleness and beauty, which +had won from him a brother's love, even though he knew not +she was his Sister. +</p> + +<p> +"I was a wretch, a villain!" the doctor groaned. Then +looking wistfully at Hugh, he said: "Do you think she loves +me still? Listen to what she says in her farewell to Anna," and +with faltering voice, he read: "That killed the love and now, +if I could, I would not be his except for Willie's sake.' Do you +think she meant it?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have no doubt of it, sir. How could her love outlive +everything? Curses and blows might not have killed it, but +when you thought to ruin her good name, to deny your child, +she would be less than woman could she forgive. Why, I hate +and despise you myself for the wrong you have done my sister," +and Hugh's tall form seemed to take on an increased height +as he stood, gazing down on one who could not meet his eye, +but cowered and hid his face. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time Hugh had called Adah "my sister," and +it seemed to fill every nook and corner of his great heart with +unutterable love for the absent girl. "Sister, sister," he kept +repeating to himself, and as he did so, his resentful indignation +grew toward the man who had so cruelly deceived her, until at +last he abruptly left the room, lest his hot temper should get +the mastery, and he knock down his dastardly brother-in-law, +as he greatly wished to do. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sad house at Spring Bank that night, and only the +negroes were capable of any enjoyment. Terrified at first at +what by dint of listening they saw and heard, they assembled +in the kitchen, and together rehearsed the strange story, wondering +if none of the tempting supper prepared with so much +care would be touched by the whites. If not, they, of course, +had the next best right, and when about midnight Mrs. Worthington +passed hurriedly through the dining-room, the table gave +evidence that somebody had partaken of the marriage feast, +and not very sparingly either. But she did not care, her +thoughts were divided between the distant Adah, her daughter—her +own—the little brown-eyed child she had been so proud +of years ago, and the moaning, wretched girl upstairs, 'Lina, +tossing distractedly from side to side; now holding her throbbing +head, and now thrusting out her hot, dry hands, as if to +keep off some fancied form, whose hair, she said, was white as +snow, and who claimed to be her mother. +</p> + +<p> +The shock had been a terrible one to 'Lina—terrible in more +senses than one. She did love Dr. Richards; and the losing +him was enough of itself to drive her mad; but worse even +than this, and far more humiliating to her pride, was the discovery +of her parentage, the knowing that a convict was her +father, a common servant her mother, and that no marriage tie +had hallowed her birth. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I can't bear it!" she cried. "I can't. I wish I might +die! Will nobody kill me? Hugh, you will, I know!" +</p> + +<p> +But Hugh was away for the family physician, for he would +not trust a gossiping servant to do the errand. Once before +that doctor had stood by 'Lina's bedside, and felt her feverish +pulse, but his face then was not as anxious as now. He did +not speak of danger, but Hugh, who watched him narrowly, read +it in his face, and following him down the stairs, asked to be +told the truth. +</p> + +<p> +"She is going to be very sick. She may get well, but I have +little to hope from symptoms like hers." +</p> + +<p> +That was the doctor's reply, and with a sigh Hugh went back +to the sick girl, who had given him little else than sarcasm and +scorn. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0040" id="h2HCH0040"></a> + CHAPTER XL +</h2> +<h3> + POOR 'LINA +</h3> +<p> +Drearily the morning dawned, but there were no bridal +slumbers to be broken, no bridal farewells said. There were +indeed good-byes to be spoken, for Anna was impatient to be +gone. But for Adah, who must be found, and Willie, who must +be cared for, and Charlie, who was waiting for her, she would +have tarried longer, and helped to nurse the girl whom she +pitied so much. But even Alice said she had better go, and +so at an early hour she was ready to leave the house she had +entered under so unpleasant circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +"I would like to see 'Lina," she said to Alice, who carried +the request to the sick room. +</p> + +<p> +But 'Lina refused. "I can't," she said; "she hates, she despises +me, and she has reason. Tell her I was not worthy to be +her sister; tell her anything you like; but the doctor—oh, Alice, +do you think he'll come, just for a minute, before he goes?" +</p> + +<p> +It was not a pleasant thing for the doctor to meet 'Lina now +face to face, for of course she wished to reproach him for his +treachery. But she did not—she thought only of herself; and +when at last, urged on by Anna and Alice, he entered into her +presence, she only offered him her hand at first, without a +single word. He was shocked to find her so sick, for a few +hours had worked a marvelous change in her, and he shrank +from the bright eyes fixed so eagerly on his face. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Dr. Richards," she began at last, "if I loved you less +it would not be so hard to tell you what I must. I did love +you, bad as I am, but I meant to deceive you. It was for me +that Adah kept silence at Terrace Hill. Adah, I almost hate +her for having crossed my path." +</p> + +<p> +There was a fearfully vindictive gleam in the bright eyes +now, and the doctor shudderingly looked away, while 'Lina, with +a soft tone, continued: "You believed me rich, and whether +you loved me afterward or not, you sought me first for my +money. I kept up the delusion, for in no other way could I +have won you. Dr. Richards, if I die, as perhaps I may, I shall +have one less sin for which to atone, if I confess to you that +instead of the heiress you imagined me to be, I had scarcely +money enough to pay my board at that hotel. Hugh, who himself +is poor, furnished what means I had, and most of my +jewelry was borrowed. Do you hear that? Do you know what +you have escaped?" +</p> + +<p> +She almost shrieked at the last. +</p> + +<p> +"Go," she continued, "find your Adah. It's nothing but +Adah now. I see her name in everything. Hugh thinks of +nothing else, and why should he? She's his sister, and I—oh! +I'm nobody but a beggarly servant's brat. I wish I was dead! +I wish I was dead! and I will be pretty soon." +</p> + +<p> +This was their parting, and the doctor left her room a soberer, +sadder man than he had entered it. Half an hour later, and +he, with Anna, was fast nearing Versailles, where they were +joined by Mr. Millbrook, and together the three started on their +homeward route. +</p> + +<p> +Rapidly the tidings flew, told in a thousand different ways, +and the neighborhood was all on fire with the strange gossip. +But little cared they at Spring Bank for the storm outside, so +fierce a one was beating at their doors, that even the fall of +Sumter failed to elicit more than a casual remark from Hugh, +who read without the slightest emotion the President's call for +seventy-five thousand men. Tenderer than a brother was Hugh +to the sick girl upstairs, staying by her so patiently that none +save Alice ever guessed how he longed to be free and join in +the search for Adah. To her it had been revealed by a few +words accidentally overheard. "Oh, Adah, sister, I know that +I could find you, but my duty is here." +</p> + +<p> +This was what he said, and Alice felt her heart throb with +increased respect for the unselfish man, who gave no other token +of his impatience to be gone, but stayed home hour after hour +in that close, feverish room, ministering to all of 'Lina's fancies, +and treating her as if no word of disagreement had ever passed +between them. Night after night, day after day, 'Lina grew +worse, until at last, there was no hope, and the council of physicians +summoned to her side said that she would die. Then +Densie softened again, but did not go near the dying one. She +could not be sent away a second time, so she stayed in her own +room, which witnessed many a scene of agonizing prayer, for +the poor girl passing so surely to another world. +</p> + +<p> +"God save her at the last. God let her into heaven," was +the burden of shattered Densie's prayer, while Alice's was much +like it, and Hugh, too, more than once bowed his head upon +the burning hands he held, and asked that space might be given +her for repentance, shuddering as he recalled the time when, like +her, he lay at death's door, unprepared to enter in. Was he +prepared now? Had he made a proper use of life and health +restored? Alas! that the answer conscience forced upon him +should have wrung out so sharp a groan. "But I will be," he +said, and laying his own face by 'Lina's, he promised that if +God would bring her reason back, so they could tell her of the +untried world her feet were nearing, he would henceforth be a +better man, and try to serve the God who heard and answered +that earnest prayer. +</p> + +<p> +It was many days ere the fever abated, but there came a +morning in early May when the eyes were not so fearfully +bright as they had been, while the wild ravings were hushed, +and 'Lina lay quietly upon her pillow. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know me?" Alice asked, bending gently over her, +while Hugh, from the other side of the bed, leaned eagerly +forward for the reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Alice, but where am I? This is not New York—not +my room. Have I—am I sick, very sick?" and 'Lina's eyes +took a terrified expression as she read the truth in Alice's face. +"I am not going to die, am I?" she continued, casting upon +Alice a look which would have wrung out the truth, even if +Alice had been disposed to withhold it, which she was not. +</p> + +<p> +"You are very sick," she answered, "and though we hope +for the best, the doctor does not encourage us much. Are you +willing to die, 'Lina?" +</p> + +<p> +Neither Hugh nor Alice ever forgot the tone of 'Lina's voice +as she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Willing? No!" or the expression of her face, as she turned +it to the wall, and motioned them to leave her. +</p> + +<p> +For two days after that she neither spoke nor gave other +token of interest in anything passing around her, but at the +expiration of that time, as Alice sat by her, she suddenly exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass +against us. I wish He had said that some other way, for if +that means we cannot be forgiven until we forgive everybody, +there's no hope for me, for I cannot, I will not forgive Densie +Densmore for being my mother, neither will I forgive Adah +Hastings for having crossed my path. If she had never seen +the doctor I should have been his wife, and never have known +who or what I was. I hate them both, Densie and Adah, so you +need not pray for me. I heard you last night, and even Hugh +has taken it up, but it's no use. I can't forgive." +</p> + +<p> +'Lina was very much excited—so much indeed, that Alice +could not talk with her then; and for days this was the burden +of her remarks. She could not forgive Densie and Adah, and +until she did, there was no use for her or any one else to pray. +But the prayers she could not say for herself were said for her +by others, while Alice omitted no proper occasion for talking +with her personally on the subject she felt to be all-important. +Nor were these efforts without their effect; the bitter tone when +speaking of Densie ceased at last, and Alice was one day surprised +at 'Lina's asking to see her, together with Mrs. Worthington. +Timidly, Densie approached the bed from which she +had once been so angrily dismissed. But there was nothing to +fear now from the white, wasted girl, whose large eyes fastened +themselves a moment on the wrinkled face; then with a +shudder, closed tightly, while the lip quivered with a grieved, +suffering expression. She did not say to poor old Densie that +she acknowledged her as a mother, or that she felt for her the +slightest thrill of love. She was through with deception; and +when, at last, she spoke to the anxiously waiting woman, it +was only to say: +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted to tell you that I have forgiven you; but I cannot +call you mother. You must not expect it. I know no +mother but this one," and the white hand reached itself toward +Mrs. Worthington, who took it unhesitatingly and held it between +her own, while 'Lina continued: "I've given you little +cause to love me, and I know how glad you must be that another, +and not I, is your real daughter. I did not know what +made me so bad, but I understand it now. I saw myself so +plainly in that man's eyes; it was his nature in me which made +me so hateful to Hugh. Oh, Hugh! the memory of what I've +been to him is the hardest part of all," and covering her face +with the sheet, 'Lina wept bitterly; while Hugh, who was standing +behind her, laid his warm hand on her head, smoothing her +hair caressingly, as he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind that, 'Lina; I, too, was bad to you. If 'Lina +can forgive me, I surely can forgive 'Lina." +</p> + +<p> +There was the sound of convulsive sobbing; and then, uncovering +her face, 'Lina raised herself up, and laying her hand +on Hugh's bosom, answered through her tears: +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I had always felt as I do now. Hugh, you don't +know how bad I've been. Why, I used to be ashamed to call +you brother, if any fine people were near." +</p> + +<p> +There was a sparkle of indignation in Alice's blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You have no cause to be ashamed of Hugh," she said, +quickly, the tone of her voice coming like a revelation to 'Lina, +who scanned her face eagerly, and then, turning, looked curiously +up to Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad, I'm glad," she whispered, "for I know now you +are worthy even of her." +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken, 'Lina," Hugh said, huskily, while 'Lina +continued; "And, Hugh, I must tell you more, how bad I've +been. You remember the money you sent to Adah last summer +in mother's letter. I kept the whole. I burned the letter, and +mother never saw it. I bought jewelry with Adah's money. I +did so many things, I—I—it goes from me now. I can't remember +all. Oh, must I confess the whole, everything, before I +can say, 'Forgive us our trespasses?'" +</p> + +<p> +"No, 'Lina. Unless you can repair some wrong, you are not +bound to tell every little thing. Confession is due to God +alone," Alice whispered to the agitated girl, who looked bewildered, +as she answered back: "But God knows all now, and +you do not; besides, I can't feel sorry toward Him as I do +toward others. I try and try, but the feeling is not there—the +sorry feeling, I mean, as sorry as I want to feel." +</p> + +<p> +"God, who knows our feebleness, accepts our purposes to do +better, and gives us strength to carry them out," Alice whispered, +again bending over 'Lina, on whose pallid, distressed +face a ray of hope for a moment shone. +</p> + +<p> +"I have good purposes," she murmured; "but I can't, I can't. +I don't know as they are real; maybe, if I get well, they would +not last, and it's all so dark, so desolate—nothing to make life +desirable—no home, no name, no friends—and death is so terrible. +Oh, Hugh, Hugh! don't let me go. You are strong; +you can hold me back, even from Death himself; and I can be +good to you; I can feel on that point, and I tell you truly +that, standing as I am with the world behind and death before, +I see nothing to make life desirable, but you, Hugh, my noble, +my abused brother. To make you love me, as I hope I might, +is worth living for. You would stand by me, Hugh—you, if no +one else, and I wish I could tell you how fast the great throbs +of love keep coming to my heart. Dear Hugh, Hugh, Brother +Hugh, don't let me die—hold me fast." +</p> + +<p> +With an icy shiver, she clung closer to Hugh, as if he could +indeed do battle with the king of terror stealing slowly into +that room. +</p> + +<p> +"Somebody say 'Our Father,'" she whispered, "I can't remember +how it goes." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you forgive and love everybody?" Alice asked, sighing +as she saw the bitter expression flash for an instant over +the pinched features, while the white lips answered: "Not +Adah, no, not Adah." +</p> + +<p> +Alice could not pray after that, not aloud at least, and a deep +silence fell upon the group assembled around the deathbed. +'Lina slept at last, slept quietly on Hugh's strong arm, and +gradually the hard expression on the face relaxed, giving way +to one of quiet peace, and Densie, watching her anxiously, whispered +beneath her breath: "See, the Murdock is all gone, and +her face is like a baby's face. Maybe she would call me mother +now." +</p> + +<p> +Poor Densie! Eagerly she waited for the close of that long +sleep, her eye the first to note that it was ended, and 'Lina awake +again. Still the silence remained unbroken, while 'Lina seemed +lost to all else save the thoughts burning at her breast—thoughts +which brought a quiver to her lips, and forced out upon her +brow great drops of sweat, which Densie wiped away, unnoticed, +it may be, or at least unrebuked. The noonday sun of May +was shining broadly into the room, but to 'Lina it was night, +and she said to Alice, now kneeling at her side: "It's growing +dark; they'll light the street lamps pretty soon, and the band +will play in the yard, but I shall not hear them. New York +and Saratoga are a great ways off, and so is Terrace Hill. Tell +him I meant to deceive him, but I did love him. Tell Adah I +do forgive her, and I would like to see her, for she is my half-sister. +The bitter is all gone. I am in charity with everybody, +everybody. May I say 'Our Father' now? It goes and comes, +goes and comes, forgive our trespasses, my trespasses; how is it, +Hugh? Say it with me once, and you, too, mother." +</p> + +<p> +She did not look toward Densie, but her hand fell off that +way, and Densie, with a low cry began with Hugh the soothing +prayer in which 'Lina joined feebly, throwing in ejaculatory +sentences of her own. +</p> + +<p> +"I forgive Densie Densmore; I forgive Adah, Adah, everybody. +Forgive my trespasses then as I forgive those that trespass +against me. Bless Hugh, dear Hugh, noble Hugh. Forgive +us our trespasses, forgive us our trespasses, our trespasses, +forgive my trespasses, me, forgive, forgive." +</p> + +<p> +It was the last word which ever passed 'Lina's lips, "Forgive, +forgive," and Hugh, with his ear close to the lips, heard +the faint murmur even after the hands had fallen from his neck +where in the last struggle they had been clasped, and after the +look which comes but once to all had settled on her face. That +was the last of 'Lina, with that cry for pardon she passed away, +and though it was but a deathbed repentance, and she, the departed, +had much need for pardon, Alice and the half-acknowledged +mother clung to it as to a ray of hope, knowing how +tender and full of compassion was the blessed Savior, even to +those who turn not to Him until the river of death is bearing +them away. Very gently Hugh laid the dead girl back upon +the pillow, and leaving one kiss on her white forehead, hurried +away to his own room, where, unseen to mortal eye, he could +ask for knowledge to give himself aright to the God who had +come so near to them. +</p> + +<p> +There were no noisy outbursts among the negroes when told +their young mistress was dead, for 'Lina had not been greatly +loved. The sight of Alice's swollen eyes and tear-stained face +affected Mug, it is true, but even she could not cry until she +had coaxed old Uncle Sam to repeat to her, for the twentieth +time, the story of Bethlehem's little children slain, by order of +the cruel Herod. This story, told in old Sam's peculiar way, +had the desired effect, and the tears which refused to start even +at the sight of 'Lina dead, flowed freely for the little ones over +whom Rachel wept, refusing to be comforted. +</p> + +<p> +"I can cry dreffully now, Miss Alice, I'se sorry, Miss 'Lina +is dead, very sorry. She never can come back any more, can +she?" Mug sobbed, running up to Alice, and hiding her face +in her dress. +</p> + +<p> +And this was about as real as any grief expressed by the +blacks for 'Lina. Poor 'Lina, she had taken no pains to win +affection while she was living, and she could not expect to be +missed much when she was gone. Hugh mourned for her the +most, more even than his mother or Densie Densmore—the +latter of whom seemed crazier than ever, shutting herself entirely +in her room, and refusing to be present at the funeral. +'Lina had been ashamed of her, she said, and she would not +disgrace her by claiming relationship now that she was dead, +so with eyes whose blackness was dimmed by tears, she watched +from her window the procession moving from the yard, across +the fields, and out to the hillside, where the Spring Bank dead +were buried, and where on the last day of blooming, beautiful +May, they laid 'Lina to rest, forgetting all her faults, and +speaking only kindly words of her as they went slowly back +to the house, from which she had gone forever. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0041" id="h2HCH0041"></a> + CHAPTER XLI +</h2> +<h3> + TIDINGS +</h3> +<p> +A few days after 'Lina's burial, there came three letters to +Spring Bank, one to Mrs. Worthington from Murdock, as he +now chose to be called, saying that though he had looked, and +was still looking everywhere for the missing Adah, he could +only trace her, and that but vaguely, to the Greenbush depot, +where he lost sight of her entirely, no one after that having +seen a person bearing the least resemblance to her. After a +consultation with the doctor, he had advertised for her, and he +inclosed a copy of the advertisement, as it appeared in the different +papers of Boston, Albany, and New York. +</p> + +<p> +"If A—— H—— will let her whereabouts be known to her +friends, she will hear of something to her advantage." +</p> + +<p> +This was the purport of Murdock's letter, if we except a kind +of inquiry after 'Lina, of whose death he had not heard. +</p> + +<p> +The second, for Alice, was from Anna Richards, who was also +ignorant as yet of 'Lina's decease. After inquiring kindly for +the unfortunate girl, she wrote: +</p> + +<p> +"I have great hopes of my erring brother, now that I know +how his whole heart goes toward his beautiful boy, our darling +Willie. I wish poor, dear Lily could have seen him when, on +his arrival at Terrace Hill, he not only bent over, but knelt +by the crib of his sleeping child, waking him at once, and +hugging him to his bosom, while his tears dropped like rain. +I am sure she would have chosen to be his wife, for her own +sake as well as Willie's. +</p> + +<p> +"You know how proud my mother and sisters are, and it +would surprise you, as it does me, to see them pet, and spoil, +and fondle Willie, who rules the entire household, mother even +allowing him to bring wheelbarrow, drum, and trumpet into the +parlor, declaring that she likes the noise, as it stirs up her blood. +Willie has made a vast change in our once quiet home, and I +fear I shall meet with much opposition when I take him away, +as I expect to do next month, for Lily gave him to me, and +brother John has said that I may have him until the mother +is found, while Charlie is perfectly willing; and thus, you see, +my cup of joy is full. +</p> + +<p> +"Brother is away now, hunting for Adah, and I am wicked +enough not to miss him, so busy am I in the few preparations +needed by the wife of a poor missionary." +</p> + +<p> +Then, in a postscript. Anna added: "I forgot to tell you that +Charlie and I are to be married some time in July, that the +Presbyterian Society of Snowdon has given him a call to be +their pastor, that he has accepted, and what is best of all, has +actually rented your old home for us to live in. I don't know +how it will seem to stop on Sundays at the meeting house instead +of keeping on to our dear, old St. Luke's. I love the +service dearly, but I love my Charlie more, notwithstanding +that he calls me his little heretic, and accuses me of proselytizing +intentions towards himself. I have never confessed it +before, but, seriously, I have strong hopes of seeing him yet in +surplice and gown; but till that time comes, I shall be a real +good Presbyterian, or orthodox, as they are called here in +Massachusetts. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps you may have heard that mother was once much +opposed to Charlie. I must say, however, that she has done +well at the last, for when I told her I had found him, and that +we were to be married, she said she was glad on the whole, as +it relieved her of a load, and she hoped I would be happy." +</p> + +<p> +Anna did not explain to Alice that the load of which her +mother was relieved was mostly Charlie's hidden letters, given +up with a full confession of the pains taken to conceal them, +and a frank acknowledgment of wrong to Anna, who, as her +letter indicated, was far too happy to be angry for a single +moment. With a smile, Alice finished the childlike letter, so +much like Anna. Then feeling that Hugh would be glad to +hear from Willie, she went in quest of him, finding him at the +end of the long piazza, where he sat gazing vacantly at the open +letter in his hand—Irving Stanley's letter, which he passed at +once to Alice in exchange for Anna's given to him. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing at the name at the bottom of the page, Alice blushed +painfully, feeling rather than seeing that Hugh was watching +her, and guessing of what he was thinking. Irving did not +know of 'Lina's death. From Dr. Richards, whom he had accidentally +met on Broadway, he had heard of her sudden illness, +and apparently accepted that as the reason why the marriage +was not consummated. Intuitively, however, he felt that there +must be something behind, but he was far too well-bred to ask +any idle questions, and in his letter he merely inquired after +'Lina, as after any sick friend, playfully hoping that for the +sake of the doctor, who looked very blue, she would soon recover +and make him the happiest man alive. Then followed some allusions +to the relationship existing between himself and Hugh, +with regrets that more had not been made of it, and then he +said that having decided to accompany his sister and Mrs. Ellsworth +on her tour to Europe, whither she would go the latter +part of July, and having nothing in particular to occupy him +in the interim, he would, with Hugh's permission, spend a few +days at Spring Bank. He did not say he was coming to see +Alice Johnson, but Hugh understood it just the same, feeling +confident that his sole object in visiting Kentucky was to take +Alice back with him, and carry her off to Europe. +</p> + +<p> +Some such idea flitted across Alice's mind as she read that +letter, and for a single instant her eyes sparkled with delight +at the thought of wandering over Europe in company with +Mrs. Ellsworth and Irving Stanley; but when she looked at +Hugh, the bright vision faded, and with it all desire to go with +Irving Stanley, even should he ask her. Hugh needed her more +than Irving Stanley. He was, if possible, more worthy of her. +His noble, unselfish devotion to 'Lina had finished the work +begun on that memorable night, when she said to him: "I may +learn to love you," and from the moment when to 'Lina's passionate +cry, "Will no one pity me?" he had answered, "Yes, +'Lina, I will care for you," her heart had been all his own, +and more than once as she watched with him by 'Lina's bedside, +she had been tempted to wind her arm around his neck and +whisper in his ear: +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh, I love you now, I will be your wife." +</p> + +<p> +But propriety had held her back and made her far more +reserved toward him than she had ever been before. Terribly +jealous where she was concerned, Hugh was quick to notice +the change, and the gloomy shadow on his face was not caused +wholly by 'Lina's sad death, as many had supposed. Hugh was +very unhappy. Instead of learning to love him, as he had +sometimes hoped she might, Alice had come to dislike him, +shunning his society, and always making some pretense to get +away if, by chance, they were left alone; and now, as the closing +act in the sad drama, Irving Stanley was coming to carry her +off forever. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh's heart was very sore as he sat there waiting for Alice +to finish that letter, and speak to him about it. What a long, +long time it took her to read it through—longer than it needed, +he was sure, for the handwriting was very plain and the letter +very brief. +</p> + +<p> +Alice knew he was waiting for her, and after hesitating a +while, she went up to him, and laying her hand on his shoulder, +as she had not done in weeks, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"You will be glad to see your cousin?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; I suppose so. Shall you?" +</p> + +<p> +He turned partly around, so he could look at her; and this it +was which brought the blood so quickly to her face, making +her stammer as she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I shall be glad. I like him very much; +but—" +</p> + +<p> +Here she stopped, for she did not know how to tell Hugh +that she was not glad in the way which he supposed. +</p> + +<p> +"But what?" he asked, "What were you going to say?" +and in his eyes there was a look which drove Alice's courage +away, and made her answer: +</p> + +<p> +"It's queer the doctor did not tell him anything except that +'Lina was sick." +</p> + +<p> +"There are a great many queer people in this world," Hugh +replied, rather testily, while Alice mildly rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +"The letter has been delayed, and he will be here day after +to-morrow. Did you notice?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; and as I am impatient to go for Adah, the sooner he +comes the better, for the sooner it will leave me at liberty. +Would it be very impolite for me to go at once, and leave you +to entertain him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it would," said Alice. "Adah's claim is a strong +one, I'll admit; but the doctor and Mr. Murdock are doing +their best; and I ask, as a favor, that you remain at home to +meet Mr. Stanley." +</p> + +<p> +Now Hugh knew that nothing could have tempted him to +leave Spring Bank so long as Irving Stanley was there; but +as he was just in a mood to be unreasonable, he replied that, "if +Alice wished it, he should remain at home until Mr. Stanley's +visit was ended." +</p> + +<p> +Alice felt exceedingly uncomfortable, for never had Hugh +been so provokingly distant and cool, and she was really glad +when at last a carriage appeared across the fields, and she knew +the "city cousin," as Hugh called him, was coming. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0042" id="h2HCH0042"></a> + CHAPTER XLII +</h2> +<h3> + IRVING STANLEY +</h3> +<p> +He had come, and up in the chamber where 'Lina died, was +making the toilet necessary after his hot dusty ride. Hugh, +heartily ashamed of his conduct for the last two days, had received +him most cordially, meeting him at the gate, and holding +him by the hand, as they walked together to the house, +where Mrs. Worthington stood waiting for him, her lips quivering, +and tears dimming her eyes, as she said to him: "Yes, +'Lina is dead." +</p> + +<p> +Irving had heard as much at the depot, and heard, too, a +strange story, the truth of which he greatly doubted. Mrs. +Worthington had been 'Lina's mother, he believed, and his sympathy +went out toward her at once, making him forget that +Alice was not there to meet him, as he half expected she would +be, although they were really comparative strangers. +</p> + +<p> +It was not until a rather late hour that Alice joined him, +sitting upon the cool piazza, with Hugh as his companion. In +summer Alice always wore white, and now, as she came tripping +down the long piazza, her muslin dress floating about her like +a snowy mist, her fair hair falling softly about her face and on +her neck, a few geranium leaves twined among the glossy curls, +and her lustrous eyes sparkling with excitement, both Irving +Stanley and Hugh held their breath and watched her as she +came, the one jealously and half angry that she was so beautiful, +the other admiringly and with a feeling of wonder at the beauty +he had never seen surpassed. +</p> + +<p> +Alice was perfectly self-possessed, and greeted Mr. Stanley +as she would have greeted any friend—and she was glad to see +him—spoke of Saratoga, and then inquired for Mrs. Ellsworth +about whom poor 'Lina had talked so much. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Ellsworth was well, Irving said, though very busy with +her preparations for going to Europe, adding "it was not so +much pleasure which was taking her there as by the hope that +by some of the Paris physicians her little deformed Jennie +might be benefited. She had secured a gem of a governess +for her daughter, a young lady whom he had not yet seen, but +over whose beauty and accomplishments his staid sister Carrie +had really waxed eloquent." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh cared nothing for that governess, and after a little, +thinking he was not wanted, stole quietly away, and being +moodily inclined, rambled off to 'Lina's grave, half wishing, +as he stood there in the moonlight, that he, too, was lying +beside it. +</p> + +<p> +"Were I sure of heaven, it would be a blessed thing to die," +he thought, "for this world has little in it to make me happy. +Oh, Alice, Golden Hair, I could almost wish we had never met, +though, as I told her once, I would rather have loved and lost +her than never have loved her at all." +</p> + +<p> +Poor Hugh! He was mistaken with regard to Alice. She +was not listening to love words. She was telling Irving Stanley +as much of 'Lina's sad story as she thought necessary, and +Irving, though really interested, was, we must confess, too intent +on watching the changing expressions of her beautiful face +to comprehend it clearly in all its complicated parts. +</p> + +<p> +He understood that 'Lina was not, and that a certain Adah +Hastings was, Mrs. Worthington's child; understood, too, that +Adah was the wife of Dr. Richards—that she had at some +time, not quite clear to him, been at Terrace Hill, but he somehow +received the impression that she eventually fled from Spring +Bank after recognizing the doctor, and never once thought of +associating her with the young woman to whom, many months +previously, he had been so kind in the crowded car, and whose +sad, brown eyes had haunted him at intervals ever since. +</p> + +<p> +Irving Stanley was not what could well be called fickle. He +admired ladies indiscriminately, respected them all, liked some +very much, and next to Alice was more attracted by and pleased +with Adah's face than any he had ever seen save that of "the +Brownie," which seemed to him much like it. He had thought +of Adah often, but had as often associated her with some tall, +bewhiskered man, who loved her and her little boy as she deserved +to be loved. With this idea constantly before him, Adah +had gradually faded from his mind, leaving there only the +image of one who had made the strongest impression upon him +of any whom he yet had met. Alice Johnson, she was the star +he followed now, hers the presence which would make that projected +tour through Europe all sunshine. Irving had decided +to be married; his mother said he ought; Augusta said he +ought; Mrs. Ellsworth said he ought; and so, as Hugh suspected, +he had come to Kentucky for the sole purpose of asking Alice +to be his wife. At sight, however, of Hugh, so much improved, +so gentlemanly, and so fine looking, his heart began +to misgive him, and Hugh would have been surprised could he +have known that Irving Stanley was as jealous of him as he +was of Irving Stanley. Yet, such was the fact, and it was a +hard matter to tell which was the more miserable of the two, +Irving or Hugh, when at last the latter returned from 'Lina's +grave, and seated himself upon the moon-lighted piazza, a little +apart from the lovers, as he believed Irving and Alice to be. +</p> + +<p> +By mutual consent the conversation turned upon the war, +and Alice could scarcely forbear laying her hand in Hugh's in +token of approbation as she watched the glow of enthusiasm +kindling in his cheek, and the fire of patriotism flashing from +his dark, handsome eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder, with your strong desire to punish the South, that +you are not in the field," Irving said, a little dryly, for though +not a sympathizer with the rebellion, he was a Baltimorean, +and not yet quite as much aroused as Hugh, who replied at +once: +</p> + +<p> +"And so I should have been, but for circumstances I could +not control. I shall soon start in quest of my sister, and when +she is found I shall volunteer at once, fighting like a blood-hound, +until some ball strikes me down." +</p> + +<p> +This he said savagely, and partly for Alice's benefit; never, +however, glancing at her, and so he failed to see the sudden +pallor on her cheek, as she heard, in fancy, the whizzing of the +ball which was to lay that stalwart form in the dust. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," Hugh continued fiercely, "it's not for lack of +will that I am not with them to-day; and, I assure you, nothing +could take me to Europe at such a time as this, unless I went +to be rid of the trouble," and springing from his chair, Hugh +strode up and down the piazza, chafing like a caged lion, while +Irving Stanley's face flushed faintly at the insinuation he could +not help understand, and Alice looked surprised that Hugh +should so far have forgotten his position as host. +</p> + +<p> +The same thought came to Hugh at last, and turning suddenly +in his walk, he confronted Irving Stanley, and offering +him his hand, said: +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, sir, for my rudeness. When I get upon the +war, I grow too much excited. I knew you were from Baltimore, +and I was fearful you might uphold that infernal mob +which murdered the brave Massachusetts boys. I could lay that +city in ashes." +</p> + +<p> +Irving took the offered hand, and answered, good humoredly: +</p> + +<p> +"That would punish the innocent as well as the guilty, so +I am not with you there, though, like you, I recoil in horror +from the perpetration of that fiendish attack upon peaceable +troops. I was there myself, and did what I could to quiet the +tumult, receiving more than one brickbat for my interference. +One word more, Cousin Hugh, I am not going to Europe to be +rid of the trouble, or for pleasure either, but as my sister's +escort. I do not yet see that my country needs me; when I do +I shall come home and join the Union army. We may meet +yet on some battlefield, and if we do you will see I am no +coward or traitor either." +</p> + +<p> +Alice's face was white now as marble, and her breath came +hurriedly. The war, before so far off, seemed very near—a +terrible reality, when those two young men talked of standing +side by side on some field of carnage. Hugh noticed her now, +and attributing her emotions wholly to her fears for Irving +Stanley, wrung the hand of the latter and then walked away, +half wishing that the leafy woods beyond the distant fields were +so many human beings and he was one of them, marching on +to duty. +</p> + +<p> +In this quiet way two days went by, Irving Stanley, quiet, +pleasant, gentlemanly, and winning all hearts by his extreme +suavity of manner; Hugh, silent, fitful, moody; Alice, artificially +gay, and even merry, trying so hard to make up Hugh's +deficiencies, that she led poor Irving astray, and made him +honestly believe she might be won. It was on the morning of +the third day that he resolved to end the uncertainty, and know +just how she regarded him. Hugh had gone to Frankfort, he +supposed; Mrs. Worthington was suffering from a nervous headache, +while Densie, as usual, sat in her own room, mostly +silent, but occasionally whispering to herself, "White nigger, +white nigger—that's me!" Apparently it was the best opportunity +he could have, and joining Alice in the large, cool parlor, +he seated himself beside her, and with the thought that +nothing was gained by waiting, plunged at once into his subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice," he began, "I must leave here to-morrow, and the +business on which I came is not yet transacted. Can't you +guess what it is? Has not my manner told you why I came +to Kentucky?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice was far too truthful to affect ignorance, and though it +cost her a most painful effort to do so, she answered, frankly: +"I think I can guess." +</p> + +<p> +"And you will not tell me no?" Irving said, involuntarily +winding his arm around her, and drawing her drooping head +nearer to him. +</p> + +<p> +Just then a shadow fell upon them, but neither noticed it, +or dreamed of the tall form passing the window and pausing +long enough to see Irving Stanley's arm around Alice's neck, to +hear Irving Stanley as he continued: "Darling Alice, you will +be my wife?" +</p> + +<p> +The rest was lost to Hugh, who had not yet started for Frankfort, +as Irving supposed. With every faculty paralyzed save +that of locomotion, he hurried away to where Rocket stood +waiting for him, and mounting his pet, went dashing across +the fields, conscious of nothing save that Golden Hair was lost +forever. In his rapid walk down the piazza he had not observed +Old Sam, seated in the door, nor heard the mumbled +words, "Poor Massa Hugh! I'se berry sorry for him, berry! +I kinder thought, 'fore t'other chap comed, Miss Ellis was +hankerin' after him a little. Poor Massa Hugh!" +</p> + +<p> +Old Sam, like Hugh, had heard Irving Stanley's impassioned +words, for the window nearby was opened wide; he had seen, +too, the deadly pallor on Hugh's face, and how for an instant +he staggered, as from a blow, covering his eyes with his hands +and whispering as he passed the negro, "Oh, Alice, Golden +Hair!" +</p> + +<p> +All this Sam had witnessed, and in his sympathy for "Massa +Hugh" he failed to hear the rest of Irving's wooing, or Alice's +low-spoken answer. She could not be Irving Stanley's wife. +She made him understand that, and then added, sadly: "I am +sorry I cannot love you as I ought, for I well know the meed of +gratitude I owe to one who saved my life, and I have wanted +so much to thank you, only you did not seem to remember me +at all." +</p> + +<p> +In blank amazement Mr. Stanley asked her what she meant, +while Alice, equally amazed, replied: "Surely, you have not +forgotten me? Can I be mistaken? I am the little girl whom +Irving Stanley rescued from drowning, when the<i>St. Helena</i> +took fire, several years ago." +</p> + +<p> +"I was never on a burning boat, never saw the<i>St. Helena</i>," +was Mr. Stanley's reply; and then for a moment the two regarded +each other intently, but Irving was the first to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"It was Hugh," he said. "It must have been Hugh, for I +remember now that when he was a lad, or youth, his uncle +sometimes called him Irving, which is, I think, his middle +name." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Yes, H.I. Worthington. I've seen it written thus, but +never thought to ask what 'I.' was for. It was Hugh, and I +mistook that old man for his father. I understand it now," and +Alice spoke hurriedly, her fair face coloring with excitement +as the truth flashed upon her that she was Golden Hair. +</p> + +<p> +Then the bright color faded away, and alarmed at the pallor +which succeeded it, Irving Stanley passed his arm supportingly +around her, asking if she were faint. Old Sam, moving away +from the door, saw her as she sat thus, but did not hear her +reply: "It takes me so by surprise. Poor Hugh, how he must +have suffered." +</p> + +<p> +She said this last more to herself than to Irving Stanley, who, +nevertheless, saw in it a meaning; and looking her earnestly in +the face, said to her: "Alice, you cannot be my wife, because +your heart is given to Hugh Worthington. Is it not so?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice would not deceive him, and she answered, frankly: "It +is," while Irving replied: "I approve your choice, although it +makes me very wretched. You will be happy with him. Heaven +bless you both." +</p> + +<p> +He dared not trust himself to say another word, but hurrying +from her presence, sought the shelter of the woods, where +alone he could school himself to bear this terrible disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh did not return until evening, and the first object he +saw distinctly as he galloped to the house, was Alice, sitting +near to Irving upon the pleasant piazza, just as it was natural +that she should sit. He did not observe that his mother was +there with them; he did not think of anything as he rode +past them with nod and smile, save that life henceforth was +but a dreary, hopeless blank to him. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving Rocket in Claib's care, he sauntered to the back +piazza, where Sam was sitting, and taking a seat beside him +startled him by saying that he should start on the morrow in +quest of his missing sister. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, massah," was Sam's quiet reply, for he understood +the reason of this sudden journey. +</p> + +<p> +Old Sam pitied Hugh, and after a moment's silence his pity +expressed itself in words. Laying his dark hand on Hugh's +bowed head, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Massah Hugh. Sam kin feel for you ef he is black. +Niggers kin love like the white folks does." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean? What do you know?" Hugh asked, a +little haughtily, while Sam fearlessly replied: +</p> + +<p> +"'Scuse me, massah, but I hears dem dis mornin'—hears de +city chap sparkin' Miss Ellis, and seen his arm spang round +her, too, with her sweet face, white as wool, lyin' in his +buzzum." +</p> + +<p> +"You saw this after I was gone?" Hugh asked, eagerly, and +Sam replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, massah, strue as preachin', and I'se sorry for massah. +I prays that he may somewhar find anodder Miss Ellis, only +not quite so nice, 'cause he can't." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh smiled bitterly, as he rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"Pray rather that I may find Adah, that is the object now +for which I live; and, Sam, keep what you have seen to yourself. +Be faithful to Miss Johnson and kind to mother. There's +no telling when I shall return. I may join the Federal Army, +but not a word of this to any one." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, massah," Sam began, but Hugh left him ere he finished, +and compelled himself to join the group on the front side of +the building, startling them as he had Sam by announcing his +determination to start on the morrow for New York. +</p> + +<p> +Alice's exclamation of surprise was lost as Irving rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +"Then we may travel together, as I, too, leave in the morning." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh gave him a rapid, searching glance, and then his eye +fell on Alice, whose white face he jealously fancied was caused +by the prospect of parting so soon with her affianced husband. +He could not guess whether she were going to Europe or not. +A few weeks seemed so short a time in which to prepare, that +he half believed she might induce Mr. Stanley to defer the trip +till autumn. But he would not ask. She would surely tell him +at the last, he thought. She ought, at least, to trust him as a +brother, and say to him: +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh, I am engaged to Mr. Stanley, and when you return, +if you are long gone, I shall probably not be here." +</p> + +<p> +But she said to him no such thing, and only the whiteness +of her face and the occasional quivering of her long eyelashes, +showed that she felt at all, as at an early hour next morning +she presided at the breakfast prepared for the travelers. There +was no tremor in her voice, no hesitancy in her manner, and a +stranger could not have told which of the young men before +her held her heart in his possession, or which had kept her +wakeful the entire night, revolving the propriety of telling him +ere he left that the Golden Hair he loved so much was willing +to be his. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps he will speak to me. I'll wait," was the final decision, +as, rising from her sleepless pillow, she sat down in the +gray dawn of the morning and penned a hasty note, which she +thrust into his hand at parting, little dreaming how long a time +would intervene ere they would meet again. +</p> + +<p> +He had not said to her or to his mother that he might join +the army, gathering so fast from every Northern city and hamlet; +only Sam knew this, and so the mother longing for her +daughter was pleased rather than surprised at his abrupt departure, +bidding him Godspeed, and lading him with messages +of love for Adah and the little boy. Alice, too, tried to smile +as she said good-by, but it died upon her lips and a tear +trembled on her cheek, when Hugh dropped the little hand he +never expected to hold again just as he held it then. +</p> + +<p> +Feeling intuitively that Irving and Alice would rather say +their parting words alone, Hugh drew his mother with him as +he advanced into the midst of the sobbing, howling negroes assembled +to see him off. But Alice had nothing to say which +she would not have said in his presence. Irving Stanley understood +better than Hugh, and he merely raised her cold hand +to his lips, saying as he did so: +</p> + +<p> +"Just this once; I shall never kiss it again." +</p> + +<p> +He was in the carriage when Hugh came up, and Alice stood +leaning against one of the tall pillars, a deep flush now upon +her cheek, and tears filling her soft blue eyes. In another moment +the carriage was rolling from the yard, neither Irving +nor Hugh venturing to look back, and both as by mutual consent +avoiding the mention of Alice, whose name was not spoken +once during their journey together to Cincinnati, where they +parted company, Irving continuing his homeward route, while +Hugh stopped in the city to arrange a matter of business with +his banker there. It was not until Irving was gone and he +alone in his room that he opened the little note given him by +Alice, the note which would tell him of her approaching marriage, +he believed. How then was he surprised when he read: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"<span class="smcaps">Dear Hugh</span>: I have at last discovered the mistake under +which, for so many years, I have been laboring. It was not +Irving Stanley who saved me from the water, but your own +noble self, and you have generously kept silent all this time, +permitting me to expend upon another the gratitude due to you. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Hugh, I wish I had known earlier, or that you did +not leave us so soon. It seems so cold, thanking you on paper, +but I have no other opportunity, and must do it here. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven bless you, Hugh. My mother prayed often for the +preserver of her child, and need I tell you that I, too, shall +never forget to pray for you? The Lord keep you in all your +ways, and lead you safely to your sister. +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="smcaps">Alice</span>" +</p></div> +<p> +Many times Hugh read this note, then pressing it to his lips +thrust it into his bosom, but failed to see what Alice had +hoped he might see, that the love he once asked for was his, +and his alone. He was too sure that another was preferred +before him to reason clearly, and the only emotions he experienced +from reading her note were feelings of pleasure that she +had been set right at last, and that Irving had not withheld +from her the truth. +</p> + +<p> +"That ends the drama," he said. "I don't quite believe she +is going with him to Europe, but she will be his when he +returns; and henceforth my duty must be to forget, if possible, +that ever I knew I loved her. Oh, Golden Hair, why did I ever +meet, or meeting you, why was I suffered to love her so devotedly, +if I must lose her at the last!" +</p> + +<p> +There were great drops of sweat about Hugh's lips and on +his forehead, as, burying his face in his hands, he laid both +upon the table, and battled manfully with his love for Alice +Johnson, a love which refused at once to surrender its object, +even though there seemed no longer a shadow of hope in which +to take refuge. +</p> + +<p> +"God, help me in my sorrow," was the prayer which fell +from the quivering lips, but did not break the silence of that +little room, where none, save God, witnessed the conflict, the +last Hugh ever fought for Alice Johnson. +</p> + +<p> +He could give her up at length; could think, without a shudder, +of the time when another than himself would call her +his wife; and when, late that afternoon, he took the evening +train for Cleveland, not one in the crowded car would have +guessed how sore was the heart of the young man who plunged +so energetically into the spirited war argument in progress between +a Northern and Southern politician. It was a splendid +escape valve for his pent-up feelings, and Hugh carried everything +before him, taking by turns both sides of the question, +and effectually silencing the two combatants, who said to each +other in parting: "We shall hear from that Kentuckian again, +though whether in Rebeldom or Yankeeland we cannot tell." +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0043" id="h2HCH0043"></a> + CHAPTER XLIII +</h2> +<h3> + LETTERS FROM HUGH AND IRVING STANLEY +</h3> +<p> +Claib had brought two letters from the office, one for Mrs. +Worthington from Hugh, and one for Alice from Irving Stanley. +This last had been long delayed, and as she broke the seal +a little nervously, reading that his trip to Europe had been deferred +on account of the illness of his sister's governess, but +that he was going on board the ship that day, July tenth, and +that his sister was there with him and the governess, "A +modest, sweet-faced body," he wrote, "who looks very girl-like +from the fact that her soft, brown hair is worn short in her +neck." +</p> + +<p> +Alice had a tolerably clear insight into Irving Stanley's character, +and immediately her mind conjured up visions of what +might be the result of a sea voyage and months of intimate +companionship with that sweet-faced governess, "who wore her +soft, brown hair short in her neck." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope it may be so," she thought; and folding up her +letter, she was about going out to the rustic seat beneath a tall +maple where Mug sat, whispering over the primer she was +trying so hard to read, when a cry from Mrs. Worthington +arrested her attention and brought her at once to the side of +the half-fainting woman. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" Alice asked, in much alarm, and Mrs. Worthington +replied: "Oh, Hugh, Hugh, my boy! he's enlisted, +joined the army! I shall never see him again!" +</p> + +<p> +Could Hugh have seen Alice then he would not for a moment +have doubted the nature of her feelings toward himself. +She did not cry out, nor faint, but her face turned white as +the dress she wore, while her hands pressed so tightly together, +that her long, taper nails left the impress in her flesh. +</p> + +<p> +"God keep him from danger and death," she murmured; +then, winding her arms around the stricken mother, she wiped +her tears away; and to her moaning cry that she was left alone, +replied: "Let me be your child till he returns, or, if he never +does—" +</p> + +<p> +She could get no further, for the very idea was overwhelming, +and sinking down beside Hugh's mother, she laid her head on +her lap, and wept bitterly. Alas, that scenes like this should +be so common in our once happy land, but so it is. Mothers +start with terror and grow faint over the boy just enlisted for +the war; then follow him with prayers and yearning love to the +distant battlefield; then wait and watch for tidings from him; +and then too often read with streaming eyes and hearts swelling +with agony, the fatal message which says their boy is +dead. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sad day at Spring Bank when first the news of +Hugh's enlistment came, sadder even than when 'Lina died, for +Hugh seemed as really dead as if they all had heard the hissing +shell or whizzing ball which was to bear his young life +away. It was nearly two months since he left home, and he +could find no trace of Adah, though searching faithfully for +her, in conjunction with Murdock and Dr. Richards, both of +whom had joined him in New York. +</p> + +<p> +"If Murdock cannot find her," he wrote, "I am convinced +no one can, and I leave the matter now to him, feeling that +another duty calls me, the duty of fighting for my country." +</p> + +<p> +It was just after the disastrous battle of Bull Run, when +people were wild with excitement, and Hugh was thus borne +with the tide, until at last he found himself enrolled as a private +in a regiment of cavalry gathering in one of the Northern +States. There had been an instant's hesitation, a clinging of +the heart to the dear old home at Spring Bank, where his +mother and Alice were; a thought of Irving Stanley, and then, +with an eagerness which made his whole frame tremble, he had +seized the pen and written down his name, amid deafening +cheers for the brave Kentuckian. This done, there was no turning +back; nor did he desire it. It seemed as if he were made +for war, so eagerly he longed to join the fray. Only one thing +was wanting, and that was Rocket. He had tried the "Yankee +horses," as he called them, but found them far inferior to his +pet. Rocket he must have, and in his letter to his mother he +made arrangements for her to send him northward by a Versailles +merchant, who, he knew, was coming to New York. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh and Rocket, they would make a splendid match, and so +Alice thought, as, on the day when Rocket was led away, she +stood with her arms around his graceful neck, whispering to +him the words of love she would fain have sent his master. +She had recovered from the first shock of Hugh's enlistment. +She could think of him now calmly as a soldier; could pray that +God would keep him, and even feel a throb of pride that one +who had lived so many years in Kentucky, then poising almost +equally in the scale, should come out so bravely for the right, +though by that act he called down curses on his head from +those at home who favored rebellion, and who, if they fought +at all, would cast in their lot with the seceding States. She +had written to Hugh a kind, sisterly letter, telling him how +proud she was of him, and how her sympathy and prayers would +follow him everywhere. "And if," she had added, in concluding, +"you are sick, or wounded, I will come to you as a +sister might do. I will find you wherever you are." +</p> + +<p> +She had sent this letter to him three weeks before, and now +she stood caressing the beautiful Rocket, who sometimes proudly +arched his long neck, and then looked wistfully at the sad +group gathered around him, as if he knew that was no ordinary +parting. Colonel Tiffton, who had heard what was going on, +had ridden over to expostulate with Mrs. Worthington against +sending Rocket North. "Better keep him at home," he said, +"and tell Hugh to come back, and let those who had raised +the muss settle their own difficulty." +</p> + +<p> +The old colonel, who was a native of Virginia, did not know +exactly where he stood. "He was very patriotic," he said, +"very, but hanged if he knew which side to take—both were +wrong. He didn't go Nell's doctrine, for Nell was a rabid +Secesh; neither did he swallow Abe Lincoln, and he'd advise +Alice to keep a little more quiet, for there was no knowing +what the hotheads might do. He'd heard of Harney's threatening +vengeance on all Unionists, and now that Hugh was gone +he might pounce on Spring Bank any night." +</p> + +<p> +"Let him!" and Alice's blue eyes flashed brightly, while her +girlish figure seemed to expand and grow higher as she continued: +"he will find no cowards here. I never touched a revolver +in my life. I am quite as much afraid of one that is +not loaded as of one that is, but I'll conquer the weakness. I'll +begin to-day. I'll learn to handle firearms. I'll practice shooting +at a mark, and if Hugh is killed I'll—oh, Hugh! Hugh—" +</p> + +<p> +She could not tell what she would do, for the woman conquered +all other feelings, and laying her face on Rocket's silken +mane, she sobbed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"There's pluck, by George!" muttered the old colonel. "I +most wish Nell was that way of thinking." +</p> + +<p> +It was time now for Rocket to go, and 'mid the deafening +howls of the negroes and the tears of Mrs. Worthington and +Alice he was led away, the latter watching him until he was +lost to sight beyond the distant hill, then, falling on her knees, +she prayed, as many a one has done, that God would be with +our brave soldiers, giving them the victory, and keeping one +of them, at least, from falling. +</p> + +<p> +Sadly, gloomily the autumn days came on, and the land was +rife with war and rumors of war. In the vicinity of Spring +Bank were many patriots, but there were hot Secessionists there +also, and bitter contentions ensued. Old friends were estranged, +families were divided, neighbors watched each other jealously, +while all seemed waiting anxiously for the result. Toward +Spring Bank the aspersions of the Confederate adherents were +particularly directed. That Hugh should go North and join +the Federal army was taken as an insult, while Mrs. Worthington +and Alice were closely watched, and all their sayings +eagerly repeated. But Alice did not care. Fully convinced of +the right, and that she had yet a work to do, she carried out +her plan so boldly announced to Colonel Tiffton, and all through +the autumn months the frequent clash of firearms was heard in +the Spring Bank woods, where Alice, with Mug at her side, +like her constant shadow, "shot at her marks," hitting once +Colonel Tiffton's dog, and coming pretty near hitting the old +colonel himself as he rode leisurely through the woods. +</p> + +<p> +After that Alice confided her experiments to the open fields, +where she could see whatever was in danger, and Harney, galloping +up and down the pike, stirring up dissension and scattering +his opinions broadcast through the country, saw her more +than once at her occupation, smiling grimly as he muttered to +himself: "It's possible I may try a hand with you at shooting +some day, my fair Yankee miss." +</p> + +<p> +Blacker, and darker, and thicker the war clouds gathered on +our horizon, but our story has little to do with that first year +of carnage, when human blood was poured as freely as water, +from the Cumberland to the Potomac. Over all that we pass, +and open the scene again in the summer of '62, when people +were gradually waking to the fact that Richmond was not so +easily taken, or the South so easily conquered. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0044" id="h2HCH0044"></a> + CHAPTER XLIV +</h2> +<h3> + THE DESERTER +</h3> +<p> +There had been a desertion from a regiment on the Potomac. +An officer of inferior rank, but whose position had been such +as to make him the possessor of much valuable information, +and whose perfect loyalty had been for some time suspected, +was missing from his command one morning, and under such +circumstances as to leave little doubt that his intention was to +reach the enemy's lines if possible. Long and loud were the +invectives against the traitor, and none were deeper in their +denunciations than Captain Hugh Worthington, as, seated on +his fiery war horse, Rocket, he heard from Irving Stanley the +story of Dr. Richards' disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +"He should be pursued, brought back, and shot!" he said, +emphatically, feeling that he would like much to be one of the +pursuers, already on the track of the treacherous doctor, who +skillfully eluded them all, and just at the close of a warm +summer day, when afar, in his New England home, his Sister +Anna was reading, with an aching heart, the story of his disgrace, +he sat in the shadow of the Virginia woods, weary, footsore +and faint with the pain caused from his ankle, sprained +by a recent fall. +</p> + +<p> +He had hunted for Adah until entirely discouraged, and +partly as a panacea for the remorse preying so constantly upon +him, and partly in compliance with Anna's entreaties, he had +at last joined the Federal army, and been sworn in with the +full expectation of some lucrative office. But his unlucky star +was in the ascendant. Stories derogatory to his character were +set afloat, and the final result of the whole was that he found +himself enrolled in a company where he knew he was disliked, +and under a captain whom he thoroughly detested, for the +fraud practiced upon himself. In this condition he was sent to +the Potomac, and while on duty as a picket, grew to be on the +most friendly terms with more than one of the enemy, planning +at last to desert, and effecting his escape one stormy night, +when the watch were off their guard. Owing to some mistake, +the aid promised by his Rebel friends had not been extended, +and as best he could he was making his way to Richmond, when, +worn out with hunger, watchfulness and fatigue, he sank down +to die, as he believed, at the entrance of some beautiful woods +which skirted the borders of a well-kept farm in Virginia. Before +him, at the distance of nearly a quarter of a mile, a large, +handsome house was visible, and by the wreath of smoke curling +from the rear chimney, he knew it was inhabited, and thought +once to go there, and beg for the food he craved so terribly. +But fear kept him back—the people might be Unionists, and +might detain him a prisoner until the officers upon his track +came up. Dr. Richards was cowardly, and so with a groan, +he laid his head upon the grass, and half wished that he had +died ere he came to be the miserable wretch he was. The pain +in his ankle was by this time intolerable, and the limb was +swelling so fast that to walk on the morrow was impossible, +and if he found a shelter at all, it must be found that +night. +</p> + +<p> +Midway between himself and the house was a comfortable-looking +barn, whither he resolved to go. But the journey was +a tedious one, and brought to his flushed forehead great drops +of sweat, wrung out by the agony it caused him to step upon his +foot. At last, when he could bear his weight upon it no longer, +he sank upon the ground, and crawling slowly upon his hands +and knees, reached the barn just as it was growing dark, and +the shadows creeping into the corners made him half shrink +with terror lest they were the bayonets of those whose coming +he was constantly expecting. He could not climb to the scaffolding, +and so he sought a friendly pile of hay, and crouching +down behind it, ere long fell asleep for the first time in three +long days and nights. +</p> + +<p> +The early June sun was just shining through the cracks +between the boards when he awoke, sore, stiff, feverish, burning +with thirst, and utterly unable to use the poor, swollen +foot, which lay so helplessly upon the hay. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, for Anna now," he moaned; "if she were only here; +or Lily, dear Lily, she would pity and forgive, could she see +me now." +</p> + +<p> +But hark, what sound is it which falls upon his ear, making +him quake with fear, and, in spite of his aching ankle, creep +farther behind the hay? It is a footstep—a light, tripping step, +and it comes that way, nearer, nearer, until a shadow falls +between the open chinks and the bright sunshine without. Then +it moves on, around the corner, pausing for a moment, while +the hidden coward holds his breath, and listens anxiously, hoping +nothing is coming there. But there is, and it enters the +same door through which he came the previous night—a girlish +figure, with a basket on her arm—a basket in which she puts +the eggs she knows just where to find. Not behind the hay, +where a poor wretch was almost dead with terror. There was +no nest there, and so she failed to see the ghastly face, pinched +with hunger and pain, the glassy eyes, the uncombed hair, and +soiled tattered garments of him who once was known as one of +fashion's most fastidious dandies. +</p> + +<p> +She had secured her eggs for the morning meal, and the +doctor hoped she was about to leave, when there was a rustling +of the hay, and he almost uttered a scream of fear. But the +sound died on his lips, as he heard the voice of prayer—heard +that young girl as she prayed, and the words she uttered +stopped, for an instant, the pulsations of his heart, and partly +took his senses away. First for her baby boy she prayed, asking +that God would be to him father and mother both, and +keep him from temptation. Then for her country, her distracted, +bleeding country, and the doctor, listening to her, knew +it was no Rebel tongue calling so earnestly on God to save +the Union, praying so touchingly for the poor, suffering soldiers, +and coming at last even to him, the miserable outcast, whose +bloodshot eyes grew blind, and whose brain grew giddy and +wild, as he heard again Lily's voice, pleading for George, wherever +he might be. She did not say: "God send him back to +me, who loves him still." She only asked forgiveness for the +father of her boy, but this was proof to the listener that she +did not hate him, and forgetful of his pain he raised himself +upon his elbow, and looking over the pile of hay, saw her where +she knelt. Lily, Adah, his wife, her fair face covered by her +hands, and her soft, brown hair cut short and curling in her +neck. +</p> + +<p> +Twice he essayed to speak, but his tongue refused to move, +and he sank back exhausted, just as Adah arose from her knees +and turned to leave the barn. He could not let her go. He +should die before she came again; he was half dying now, and +it would be so sweet to breathe out his life upon her bosom, +with perhaps her forgiving kiss upon his lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Adah!" he tried to say; but the quivering lips made no +sound, and Adah passed out, leaving him there alone. "Adah, +Lily, Anna," he gasped, hardly knowing himself whose name +he called in his despair. +</p> + +<p> +She heard that sound, and started suddenly, for she thought +it was her old, familiar name which no one knew there at +Sunny Mead. For a moment she paused; but it came not again, +and so she turned the corner, and her shadow fell a second +time on the haggard face pressed against that crevice in the +wall, the opening large enough to thrust the long fingers +through, in the wild hope of detaining her as she passed. +</p> + +<p> +"Adah!" +</p> + +<p> +It was a gasping, bitter cry; but it reached her, and looking +back, she saw the pale hand beckoning, the fingers motioning +feebly, as if begging her to return. There was a moment's +hesitation, and then conquering her timidity, Adah went back, +shuddering as she passed the still beckoning hand, and caught +a glimpse of the wild eyes peering at her through the crevice. +</p> + +<p> +"Adah!" +</p> + +<p> +She heard it distinctly now, and with it came thoughts of +Hugh. It must be he; and her feet scarcely touched the +ground in her eagerness to find him. Over the threshold, across +the floor, and behind the hay she bounded; but stood aghast at +the spectacle before her. He had struggled to his knees; and +with his sprained limb coiled under him, his ashen lips apart, +and his arms stretched out, he was waiting for her. But Adah +did not spring into those trembling arms, as once she would +have done. She would never willingly rest in their embrace +again; and utter, overwhelming surprise was the only emotion +on her face as she recognized him, not so much by his looks as +by the name he gave her. +</p> + +<p> +"George, oh, George, how came you here?" she asked, drawing +backward from the arm reached out to touch her. +</p> + +<p> +He felt that he was repulsed, and, with a wail which smote +painfully on Adah's heart, he fell forward on his face, sobbing: +"Oh, Adah, Lily, pity me, pity me, if you can't forgive! I +have slept for three nights in the woods, without once tasting +food! My ankle is sprained, my strength is gone, and I wish +that I were dead!" +</p> + +<p> +She had drawn nearer to him, while he spoke, near enough +to recognize her country's uniform, all soiled and tattered +though it was. He was a soldier, then—Liberty's loyal son—and +that fact awoke a throb of pity. +</p> + +<p> +"George," she said, kneeling down beside him, and laying +her hand upon his ragged coat, "tell me how came you here, +and where is your company?" +</p> + +<p> +He would not deceive her, though tempted to do so, and he +answered her truthfully: "Lily, I am a deserter. I am trying +to join the enemy!" +</p> + +<p> +He did not see the indignant flash of her eyes, or the look of +scorn upon her face, but he felt the reproach her silence implied, +and dared not look up. +</p> + +<p> +"George," she began at last, sternly, very sternly, "but for +Him who bade us forgive seventy times seven, I should feel inclined +to leave you here to die; but when I remember how much +He is tried with one, I feel that I am to be no one's judge. Tell +me, then, why you have deserted; and tell me, too—oh, George, +in mercy—tell me if you know aught of Willie?" +</p> + +<p> +The mother had forgotten all the wrongs heaped upon the +wife, and Adah drew nearer to him now, so near, indeed, that +his arm encircled her at last, and held her close; but the ragged, +dirty, fallen creature did not dare to kiss her, and could only +press her convulsively to his breast, as he attempted an answer +to her question. +</p> + +<p> +"You must be quick," she said, suddenly remembering herself; +"it is growing late, Mrs. Ellsworth will be waiting for +her breakfast; and since the stampede of her servants, two old +negroes and myself are all there are left to care for the house. +Stay," she added, as a new thought seemed to strike her; "I +must go, or they will look for me; but after breakfast I will +return, and do for you what I can. Lie down again upon the +hay." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke kindly to him, but he felt it was as she would +have spoken to any one in distress, and not as once she had +addressed him. But he knew that he deserved it, and he suffered +her to leave him, watching her with streaming eyes as +she hurried along the path, and counting the minutes, which +seemed to him like hours, ere he saw her returning. She was +very white when she came back, and he noticed that she frequently +glanced toward the house, as if haunted by some terror. +Constantly expecting detection, he grasped her arm, as she bent +to bathe his swollen foot, and whispered huskily: "Adah, there's +something on your mind—some evil you fear. Tell me, is any +one after me!" +</p> + +<p> +Adah nodded; while, like a frightened child, the tall man +clung to her neck, saying, piteously: "Don't give me up! Don't +tell; they would hang me, perhaps!" +</p> + +<p> +"They ought to do so," trembled on Adah's lips, but she suppressed +the words, and went on bandaging up the ankle, and +handling it as carefully as if it had not belonged to a deserter. +</p> + +<p> +He did not feel pain now in his anxiety, as he asked: "Who +is it, Adah? who's after me?" but he started when she replied, +with downcast eyes and a flush upon her cheek: "Major Irving +Stanley. You were in his regiment, the—— th New York Volunteers." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Richards drew a relieved breath. "I'd rather it were he +than Captain Worthington, who hates me so cordially. Adah, +you must hide me; I have so much to tell. I know your +parents, your brother, your husband; and I am he. It was +not a mock marriage. It has been proved real. It was a +genuine justice who married us, and you are my lawful wife. +Oh, pray, please don't hurt me so." He uttered a scream of +pain as Adah's hands pressed heavily now upon the hard, purple +flesh. +</p> + +<p> +She scarcely knew what she was doing as she listened to his +words and heard that she was indeed his wife. Two years +before, such news would have overwhelmed her with delight, but +now for a single instant a fierce and almost resentful pang shot +through her heart as she thought of being bound for life to one +for whom she had no love, and whose very caresses made her +loathe him more and more. But when she thought of Willie, +and how the stain upon his birth was washed away, the hard +look left her eyes, and her hot tears dropped upon the ankle +she was bandaging. +</p> + +<p> +"You are glad?" he asked, looking at her curiously, for her +manner puzzled him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, very glad for Willie," she replied, keeping her face +bent down so he could not see its expression. +</p> + +<p> +Then when her task was done, she seemed to nerve herself +for some powerful task, and sitting down upon the hay, out of +reach of his arms, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me now all that has happened since I left Terrace +Hill; but first of Willie. You say Anna has him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Anna—Mrs. Millbrook," he replied, and was about to +say more, when Adah interrupted him with: +</p> + +<p> +"It may spare you some pain if I tell you first what I know +of the tragedy at Spring Bank. I know that 'Lina is dead, +and that the fact of my existence prevented the marriage. So +much I heard Mr. Stanley tell his sister. I had just come to +her then. She was prouder toward me than she is now, and +with a look silenced him from talking in my presence, so that +was all I ever knew, as I dared not question her lest I should +be suspected. Go on, you spoke of my parents, my brother. +Who are they?" +</p> + +<p> +Her manner perplexed him greatly, but he controlled himself, +while he repeated rapidly the story known already to our readers, +the story which made Adah reel where she sat, and turn +so white that he attempted to reach her, and so keep her +from falling. But just the touch of his hand had power to +arouse her, and drawing back she laid her face in the hay, and +moaned: +</p> + +<p> +"That gentle woman, my mother; that noble Hugh, my +brother! it's more than I ever hoped. Oh, Heavenly Father, +accept my thanks for this great happiness. A mother and a +brother found." +</p> + +<p> +"And husband, too," chimed in the doctor, eagerly, "thank +Him for me, Adah. You are glad to find me?" +</p> + +<p> +There was pleading in his tone—earnest pleading, for the +terrible conviction was fastening itself upon him, that not as +they once parted had he and Adah met. For full five minutes +Adah lay upon the hay, her whole soul going out in a prayer +of thankfulness for her great joy, and for strength to bear the +bitterness mingling with her joy. Her face was very white +when she lifted it up at last, but her manner was composed, +and she questioned the doctor calmly of Spring Bank, of Alice, +of Hugh, of Anna, but could not trust herself to say much to +him of Willie, lest her calmness should give way, and a feeling +spring up in her heart of something like affection for Willie's +father. Alas, for the miserable man. He had found his wife, +his Adah, but there was between them a gulf which his own +act had built, and which he never more might pass. He began +to suspect it, and ere she had finished the story of her wanderings, +which at his request she told, he knew there was no +pulsation of her heart which beat for him. He asked her where +she had been since she fled from Terrace Hill, and how she +came to be in Mrs. Ellsworth's family. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's hesitancy, as if she were deciding +how much to tell him of the past, and then resolving to keep +nothing back which he might know, she told him how, with a +stunned heart and giddy brain, she had gone to Albany, and +mingling with the crowd had mechanically followed them down +to a boat just starting for New York. That, by some means, +she never knew how, she found herself in the saloon, and seated +next to a feeble, deformed little girl, who lay upon the sofa, +and whose sweet, childish voice said to her pityingly: +</p> + +<p> +"Does your head ache, lady, or what makes you so white?" +</p> + +<p> +She had responded to that appeal, talking kindly to the little +girl, between whom and herself the friendliest of relations were +established and whose name she learned was Jenny Ellsworth. +The mother she did not then see, as, during the journey down +the river she was suffering from a nervous headache, and kept +her room. From the child and child's nurse, however, she heard +that Mrs. Ellsworth was going ere long to Europe, and was +anxious to secure some young and competent person to act in +the capacity of Jenny's governess. Instantly Adah's decision +was made. Once in New York she would by letter apply for +the situation, for nothing then could so well suit her state of +mind as a tour to Europe, where she would be far away from +all she had ever known. Very adroitly she ascertained Mrs. +Ellsworth's address, wrote to her a note the day following her +arrival in New York, and the day following that, found her in +Mrs. Ellsworth's parlor at the Brevoort House, where for a +few days she was stopping. She had been greatly troubled to +know what name to give, but finally resolved to take her own, +the one by which she was known ere George Hastings crossed +her path. Adah Maria Gordon was, as she supposed, her real +name, so in her note to Mrs. Ellsworth she signed herself +"Maria Gordon," omitting the Adah, which might lead to her +being recognized. From her little girl Mrs. Ellsworth had heard +much of the sweet young lady, who was so kind to her on the +boat, and was thus already prepossessed in her favor. +</p> + +<p> +Adah did not tell Dr. Richards, and perhaps she did not +herself know how surprised and delighted Mrs. Ellsworth was +with the fair, girlish creature, announced to her as Miss Gordon, +and who won her heart before five minutes were gone, +making her think it of no consequence to inquire concerning her +at Madam—— 's school, where she said she had been a pupil. +</p> + +<p> +"My sister must have been there at the same time," Mrs. +Ellsworth had said. "Perhaps you remember her, Augusta +Stanley?" +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Miss Gordon remembered her well, but added modestly: +</p> + +<p> +"She may have forgotten me, as I was only a day scholar, +and—not—not quite her circle. I was poor." +</p> + +<p> +Charmed with her frankness, Mrs. Ellsworth decided in her +own mind to take her, but, for form's sake, she would write to +her sister Augusta, recently married, and living in Milwaukee. +</p> + +<p> +"Your first name is Maria," she said, taking out her pencil +to write it down. +</p> + +<p> +Adah could not tell a lie, and she replied unhesitatingly: +</p> + +<p> +"No, ma'am; my name is Adah Maria, but I prefer being +called Maria." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Ellsworth nodded, wrote down "Adah Maria Gordon," +but in the letter sent that day to Augusta, merely spoke of her +governess in prospect as a Miss Gordon, who had been at the +same school with Augusta, asking if she remembered her. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Augusta remembered Miss Gordon, well, a brown-eyed, +sweet-faced, conscientious little creature whom she liked so +much, and whose services her sister had better secure. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Ellsworth hesitated no longer, and ten days after the +receipt of this letter, Adah was duly installed as governess to +the delighted little Jennie, who learned to love her gentle +teacher with a love almost amounting to idolatry. +</p> + +<p> +"You were in Europe then, and that is the reason why we +could not find you," Dr. Richards said, adding, after a moment: +"And Irving Stanley went with you—was your companion +all the while?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, all the while," and Adah's cold fingers worked +nervously at the wisp of hay she was twisting in her hand. +"I had seen him before—he was in the cars when Willie and +I were on our way to Terrace Hill. Willie had the earache, and +he was so kind to us both." +</p> + +<p> +Adah looked fixedly now at the craven doctor, who could not +meet her glance, for well he remembered the dastardly part he +had played in that scene, where his own child was screaming +with pain, and he sat selfishly idle. +</p> + +<p> +"She don't know I was there, though," he thought, and that +gave him some comfort. +</p> + +<p> +But Adah did know, and she meant he should know she did. +Keeping her calm brown eyes still fixed upon him, she continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I heard Mr. Stanley talking of you once to his sister, and +among other things he spoke of your dislike for children, and +referred to an occasion in the cars, when a little boy, for whom +his heart ached, was suffering acutely, and for whom you +evinced no interest, except to call him a brat, and wonder why +his mother did not stay at home. I never knew till then that +you were so near to me." +</p> + +<p> +"It's true, it's true," the doctor cried, tears rolling down his +soiled face; "but I never guessed it was you. Lily, I supposed +it some ordinary woman." +</p> + +<p> +"So did Irving Stanley," was Adah's quiet, cutting answer; +"but his heart was open to sympathy, even for an ordinary +woman." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor could only moan, with his face still hidden in +his hands, until a sudden thought like a revelation flashed upon +him, and forgetting his wounded foot, he sprang like a tiger to +the spot where Adah sat, and winding his arm firmly around +her, whispered hoarsely: +</p> + +<p> +"Adah, Lily, tell me you love this Irving Stanley. My wife +loves another than her husband." +</p> + +<p> +Adah did not struggle to release herself from his close grasp. +It was punishment she ought to bear, she thought, but her whole +soul loathed that close embrace, and the loathing expressed +itself in the tone of her voice, as she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Until within an hour I did not suppose you were my husband. +You said you were not in that letter; I have it yet; the +one in which you told me it was a mock marriage, as, by your +own confession, it seems you meant it should be." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, darling, you kill me, yet I deserve it all; but, Adah, +I have suffered enough to atone for the dreadful past; and I +tried so hard to find you. Forgive me, Lily, forgive," and falling +again on his knees, the wretched man poured forth a torrent +of entreaties for her forgiveness, her love, without which +he should die. +</p> + +<p> +Holding fast her cold hands, he pleaded with all his eloquence, +until, maddened by her silence, he even taunted her +with loving another, while her own husband was living. +</p> + +<p> +Then Adah started, and pushing him away, sprang to her +feet, while the hot blood stained her face and neck, and a resentful +fire gleamed from her brown eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not well for you to reproach me with faithlessness," +she said, "you, who have dealt so treacherously by me; you, +who deliberately planned my ruin, and would have effected it +but for the deeper-laid scheme of one you say is my father. No +thanks to you that I am a lawful wife. You did not make +me so of your own free will. You did to me the greatest wrong +a man can do a woman, then cruelly deserted me, and now you +would chide me for respecting another more than I do you." +</p> + +<p> +"Not respecting him, Adah, no, not for respecting him. You +should do that. He's worthier than I; but, oh, Adah, Lily, wife, +mother of my boy, do you love Irving Stanley?" +</p> + +<p> +He was sobbing bitterly, and the words came between the +sobs, while he tried to clutch her dress. Staggering backward +against the wooden beam, Adah leaned there for support, while +she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"You would not understand if I should tell you the terrible +struggle it was for me to be thrown each day in the society +of one as noble, as good as Irving Stanley, and not come at last +to feel for him as a poor governess ought never to feel for the +handsome, gifted brother of her employer. Oh, George, I prayed +against it so much, prayed to be kept from the sin, if it were a +sin, to have Irving Stanley mingled with every thought. But +the more I prayed, the more the temptation seemed thrust upon +me. The kinder, gentler, more attentive, grew his manners toward +me. He never treated me as a mere governess. It was +more like an equal at first, and then like a younger sister, so +that few strangers took me for a subordinate, so kind were both +Mrs. Ellsworth and her brother." +</p> + +<p> +"And he," the doctor gasped, looking wistfully in her face, +"does he—do you think he loves you?" +</p> + +<p> +Adah colored crimson, but answered frankly: +</p> + +<p> +"He never told me so; never said to me a word which a husband +should not hear; but—sometimes I've fancied, I've feared, +I've left him abruptly lest he should speak, for that I know +would bring the crisis I so dreaded. I must tell him the whole +then, and by my dread of doing this, I knew he was more than +a friend to me. I was fearful at first that he might recognise +me, but I was much thinner than when I saw him in the cars, +while my hair, purposely worn short, and curling in my neck, +changed my looks materially, so that he only wondered whom +I was so much like, but never suspected the truth." +</p> + +<p> +There was silence, a moment, and then the doctor asked: +"How is all this to end?" +</p> + +<p> +The question brought into Adah's eyes a fearful look of +anguish, but she did not answer, and the doctor spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +"Have I found Lily only to lose her?" +</p> + +<p> +Still there was no reply, and the doctor continued: "You +are my wife, Adah. No power can undo that, save death, and +you are my child's mother. For Willie's sake, oh, Adah, for +Willie's sake, forgive." +</p> + +<p> +When he appealed to her as his wife, Adah seemed turning +into stone; but the mention of Willie touched the mother +within that girlish woman, and the iceberg melted at once. +</p> + +<p> +"For Willie, my boy," she gasped, "I could do almost anything; +I could die so willingly but—but—oh, George, that ever +we should come to this. You a deserter, a traitor to your country—lamed, +disabled, wholly in my power, and begging of me, +your outcast wife, for the love which surely is dead—dead. No, +George, I do forgive, but never, never more can I be to you +a wife." +</p> + +<p> +There was a rising resentment now in the doctor's manner, +as he answered reproachfully: "Then surrender me at once to +the lover hunting for me. Let him take me back where I can +be shot and that will leave you free." +</p> + +<p> +Adah raised her hand deprecatingly, and when he had finished, +rejoined: "You mistake Major Stanley, if you think +he would marry me, knowing what I should tell him. It's not +for him that I refuse. It's for myself. I could not bear it. +I—" +</p> + +<p> +"Stay, Adah, Lily, don't say you should hate me;" and the +doctor's voice was so full of anguish that Adah involuntarily +advanced toward him, standing quite near, while he begged of +her to say if the past could not be forgotten. His family were +ready, were anxious to receive her. Sweet Anna Millbrook already +loved her as a sister, while he, her husband, words could +not tell his love for her. He would do whatever she required; +go back to the Federal army if she said so; seek for the pardon +he was sure to gain; fight for his country like a hero, periling +life and limb, if she would only give him the shadow of a +hope. +</p> + +<p> +"I must have time to think. I cannot decide alone," Adah +answered, while the doctor clutched her dress, half shrieking +with terror: +</p> + +<p> +"You surely will not consult him, Major Stanley?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," and Adah spoke reverently, "there's a mightier friend +than he. One who has never failed me in my need. He will +tell me what to do." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor knew now what she meant, and with a moan he +laid his head again upon the hay, wishing, oh, so much, that +the lessons taught him when in that little attic chamber, years +ago, he knelt by Adah's side, and said with her, "Our Father," +had not been all forgotten. When he lifted up his face again, +Adah was gone, but he knew she would return, and waited +patiently while just outside the door, with her fair face buried +in the sweet Virginia grass, and the warm summer sunshine +falling softly upon her, poor half-crazed Adah fought and won +the fiercest battle she had ever known, coming off conqueror +over self, and feeling sure that God had heard her earnest cry +for help, and told her what to do. There was no wavering now; +her step was firm; her voice steady, as she went back to the +doctor's side, and bending over him, said: +</p> + +<p> +"I will nurse you, my husband, till you are well; then you +must go back whence you came, confess your fault, rejoin your +regiment, and by your faithfulness wipe out the stain of desertion. +Then, when the war is over, or you are honorably discharged, +I will—be your wife. I may not love you at first as +once I did, but I shall try, and He, who counsels me to tell you +this, will help me, I am sure." +</p> + +<p> +It was almost pitiful now to see the doctor, as, spaniel-like, +he crouched at Adah's feet, kissing her hands and blessing her +'mid his tears. "He would be worthy of her, and they should +yet be so happy." +</p> + +<p> +Adah suffered him to caress her for a moment, and then told +him she must go, for Mrs. Ellsworth would wonder at her long +absence, and possibly institute a search. Pressing one more +kiss upon her hand the doctor crept back to his hiding place, +while Adah went slowly to the house where she knew Irving +Stanley was anxiously waiting for her. She dared not meet +him alone now, for latterly each time they had so met, she +knew she had kept at bay the declaration trembling on his lips, +and which now must never be listened to. So she stayed away +from the pleasant parlor where all the morning he sat chatting +with his sister, who guessed how much he loved the beautiful +and accomplished girl, whom, by way of his sister Augusta +he now knew as the Brownie he had once seen at Madam +—— 's school, in New York. +</p> + +<p> +Right-minded and high-principled, Mrs. Ellsworth had conquered +any pride she might at first have felt—any reluctance +to her brother's marrying her governess, and now like him was +anxious to have it settled. But Adah gave him no chance that +day, and late in the afternoon he rode back to his regiment, +wondering at the change in Miss Gordon, and why her face +was so deadly white, and her voice so husky, as she bade him +good-by. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Adah! Hers was now a path of suffering, such as she +had never known before. But she did her duty to the doctor +faithfully, nursing him with the utmost care; but never expressing +to him the affection she did not feel. It was impossible +to keep his presence there a secret from the two old +negroes, and knowing she could trust them, she told them of the +wounded Union soldier, enlisting their sympathies for him, and +thus procuring for him the care of older and more experienced +people than herself. +</p> + +<p> +He was able at length to return, and one pleasant summer +night, just three weeks after his arrival at Sunnymead, Adah +walked with him to the woods, and kneeling with him by a +running stream, whose waters farther away would yet be crimson +with the blood of our slaughtered brothers, she commended +him to God. Through the leafy branches the moonbeams were +shining, and they showed to Adah the expression of the doctor's +wasted face as he said to her at parting: "I have kissed you +many times, my darling, but you have never returned it. Please +do so once, dear Lily, for the sake of the olden time. It will +make me a better soldier." +</p> + +<p> +She kissed him once for the sake of the olden time, and when +he whispered, "Again for Willie's sake," she kissed him twice, +and then she bade him leave her, herself buttoning about him +the soldier coat which her own hands had cleaned and mended +and made respectable. She was glad afterward that she had +done so; glad, too, that she had kissed him and waited by the +tree, where, looking backward, he could see the flutter of her +white dress until a turn in the forest path hid her from his +view. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0045" id="h2HCH0045"></a> + CHAPTER XLV +</h2> +<h3> + THE SECOND BATTLE OF BULL RUN +</h3> +<p> +The second disastrous battle at Bull Run was over, and the +shadow of a summer night wrapped the field of carnage in darkness. +Thickly upon the battlefield lay the dead and dying, the +sharp, bitter cries of the latter rising on the night wind, and +adding tenfold to the horror of the scene. In the woods, not +very far away, more than one brave soldier was weltering in +his lifeblood, just where, in his rapid flight, he had fallen, the +grass his pillow, and the leafy branches of the forest trees his +only covering. +</p> + +<p> +Side by side, and near to a running brook, two wounded men +were lying, or rather one was supporting the other and trying +to stanch the purple gore, pouring darkly from a fearful bullet +wound in the region of the heart. The stronger of the two, +he who wore a major's uniform, had come accidentally upon +the other, writhing in agony, and muttering at intervals +snatches of the prayer with which he once had been familiar, +and which seemed to bring Lily back to him again, just as she +was when in the attic chamber she made him kneel by her, and +say "Our Father." He tried to say it now, and the whispered +words caught the ear of Irving Stanley, arresting his steps at +once. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor fellow! it's gone hard with you," he said, kneeling by +the sufferer, whom he recognized as the deserter, Dr. Richards, +who had returned to his allegiance, had craved forgiveness for +his sins, and been restored to the ranks, discharging his duties +faithfully, and fighting that day with a zeal and energy which +did much in reinstating him in the good opinion of those who +witnessed his daring bravery. +</p> + +<p> +But the doctor's work was done, and never from his lips would +Lily know how well his promise had been kept. Giddy with +pain and weak from the loss of blood, he had groped his way +through the woods, fighting back the horrid certainty that to-morrow's +sun would not rise for him, and sinking at length +exhausted upon the grass, whose freshness was now defaced by +the blood which poured so freely from his wound. +</p> + +<p> +It was thus that Irving Stanley found him, starting at first +as from a hissing shell, and involuntarily clasping his hand over +the place where lay a little note, received a few days before, +a reply to the earnest declaration of love he had at last written +to his sister's governess, Maria Gordon. There was but one +alternative, and Adah met it resolutely, though every fiber of +her heart throbbed with keen agony as she told to Irving Stanley +the story of her life. She was a wife, a mother, the sister +of Hugh Worthington, they said, the Adah for whom Dr. Richards +had sought so long in vain, and for whom Murdock, the +wicked father, was seeking still for aught she knew to the contrary. +Even the story of the doctor's secretion in the barn at +Sunnymead was confessed. Nothing was withheld except the +fact that even as he professed to love her, so she in turn loved +him, or had done so before she knew it was a sin. Surprise +had, for a few moments, stifled every other emotion, and Irving +Stanley had sat like one suddenly bereft of motion, when he +read who Maria Gordon was. Then came the bitter thought +that he had lost her, mingled with a deep feeling of resentment +toward the man who had so cruelly wronged the gentle girl, and +who alone stood between him and happiness. For Irving Stanley +could overlook all the rest. His great warm heart, so full +of kindly sympathy and generous charity for all mankind could +take to its embrace the fair, sweet woman he had learned to +love so much, and be a father to her little boy, as if it had +been his own. But this might not be. There was a mighty +obstacle in the way, and feeling that it mattered little now +whether he ever came from the field alive, Irving Stanley, with +a whispered prayer for strength to bear and do right, had hidden +the letter in his bosom, and then, when the hour of conflict +came, plunged into the thickest of the fight with a fearlessness +born of keen and recent disappointment, which made life less +valuable than it had been before. +</p> + +<p> +It is not strange, then, that he should start and stagger backward +when he came so suddenly upon the doctor, or that the +first impulse of weak human nature was to leave the fallen +man, but the second, the Christian impulse, bade him stay, +and forgetting his own slight but painful wound, he bent over +Adah's husband, and did what he could to alleviate the anguish +he saw was so hard to bear. At the sound of his voice, a spasm +of pain passed over the doctor's pallid face, and the flash of a +sudden fire gleamed for a moment in his eye, as he, too, remembered +Adah, and thought of what might be when the grass +was growing over his untimely grave. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor knew that he was dying, and yet his first question +was: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think I can live? Did any one ever recover with +such a wound as this?" +</p> + +<p> +Eagerly the dim eyes sought the face above them, the kind, +good face of one who would not deceive him. Irving shook his +head as he felt the pulse, and answered frankly: +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you will die." +</p> + +<p> +There was a bitter moan, as all his misspent life came up +before him, followed closely by the dark future, where there +shone no ray of hope, and then with the desperate thought, +"It's too late now for regrets. I'll meet it like a man," he +said: +</p> + +<p> +"It may as well be I as any one, though it's hard even for +me to die; harder than you imagine;" then, growing excited +as he talked, he raised himself upon his elbow, and continued: +"Major Stanley, tell me truly, do you love the woman you know +as Maria Gordon?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did love her once, before I knew I must not—but now—I—yes, +Dr. Richards, my heart tells me that never was she so +dear to me as now when her husband lies dying at my side." +</p> + +<p> +Irving Stanley hardly knew what he was saying, but the +doctor—the husband, understood, and almost shrieked out the +words: +</p> + +<p> +"You know then that she is Adah, a wife, a mother, and that +I am her lawful husband?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know the whole," was the reply, as with his hand Irving +dipped water from the brook and laved the feverish brow of the +dying man, who went on to speak of Adah as she was when he +first knew her, and of the few happy months spent with her in +those humble lodgings. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know my darling," he whispered. "She's an +angel, and I might have been so happy with her. Oh, if I could +only live, but that can't be now, and it is well. Come close +to me, Major Stanley, and listen while I tell you that Adah +promised if I would do my duty to my country faithfully, she +would live with me again, and all the while she promised, her +heart was breaking, for she did not love me. It had all died +out for me. It had been given to another; can you guess to +whom?" +</p> + +<p> +Irving made no reply, except to chafe the hands which clasped +his so tightly, and the doctor continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I am surely dying—I shall never see her more, or my boy, +my beautiful boy. I was a brute in the cars; you remember +the time. That was Adah, and those little feet resting on my +lap were Willie's, baby Willie's, Adah's baby." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor's mind was wandering now, and he kept on disconnectedly: +</p> + +<p> +"She's been to Europe with him. She's changed from the +shy girl into a queenly woman. Even the Richards line might +be proud of her bearing, and when I'm gone, tell her I said +you might have Willie, and—and—it grows very dark; the +noise of the battle drowns my voice, but come nearer to me, +nearer—tell her—tell Adah, you may have her. She needn't +mourn, nor wait; but carry me back to Snowdon. There's no +soldier's grave there yet. I never thought mine would be the +first. Anna will cry, and mother and Asenath and Eudora; but +Adah, oh Lily, darling. She's coming to me now. Don't you +hear that rustle in the grass?" and the doctor listened intently +to a sound which also caught Irving's ear, a sound of a horse's +neigh in the distance, followed by the tramp of feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush-sh," he whispered. "It may be the enemy," but his +words were not regarded, or understood. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was in Lily's presence, and in fancy it was her +hand, not Irving's which wiped the death-sweat from his brow, +and he murmured words of love and fond endearment, as to +a living, breathing form. Fainter and fainter grew the pulse, +weaker and weaker the trembling voice, until at last Irving +could only comprehend that some one was bidden to pray—to +say "Our Father." +</p> + +<p> +Reverently, as for a departing brother, he prayed over the +dying man, asking that all the past might be forgiven, and that +the erring might rest at last in peace. +</p> + +<p> +"Say Amen for me, I'm too weak," the doctor whispered; +then, as reason asserted her sway again, he continued: "I see +it now; Lily's gone, and I am dying here in the woods, in the +dark, in the night, on the ground; cared for by you who will +be Lily's husband. You may, you may tell her I said so; tell +her kiss my boy; love him, Major Stanley; love him as your +own, even though others shall call you father. Tell her—I tried—to +pray—" +</p> + +<p> +He never spoke again; and when next the thick, black, clotted +blood oozed up from the gaping wound, it brought with it all +there was of life; and there in those Virginia woods, in the +darkness of the night, Irving Stanley sat alone with the dead. +And yet not alone, for away to his right, and where the neigh +of a horse had been heard, another wounded soldier lay—his +soft, brown locks moist with dew, and his captain's uniform +wet with the blood which dripped from the terrible gash in the +fleshy part of the neck, where a murderous ball had been. One +arm, the right one, was broken, and lay disabled upon the +grass; while the hand of the other clutched occasionally at the +damp grass, and then lifting itself, stroked caressingly the +powerful limbs of the faithful creature standing guard over the +prostrate form of his master. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh and Rocket! They had been in many battles, and +neither shot nor shell had harmed them until to-day, when +Hugh had received the charge which sent him reeling from his +horse, breaking his arm in the field, and scarcely conscious that +two of his comrades were leading him from the field. How or +by what means he afterward reached the woods, he did not +know, but reach them he had, and unable to travel farther, +he had fallen to the ground, where he lay, until Rocket came +galloping near, riderless, frightened, and looking for his master. +With a cry of joy the noble brute answered that master's +faint whistle, bounding at once to his side, and by many mute +but meaning signs, signifying his desire that Hugh should +mount as heretofore. +</p> + +<p> +But Hugh was too weak for that, and after several ineffectual +efforts to rise, fell back half fainting on the turf; while Rocket +took his stand directly over him, a powerful and efficient guard +until help from some quarter should arrive. Patiently, faithfully +he stood, waiting as quietly as if he knew that aid was +coming, not far away, in the form of an old man, whose hair +was white as snow, and whose steps were feeble with age, but +who had the advantage of knowing every inch of that ground, +for he had trodden it many a time, with a homesick heart +which pined for "old Kentuck," whence he had been stolen. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Sam! He it was whose uncertain steps made Rocket +prick up his ears and listen, neighing at last a neigh of welcome, +by which he, too, was recognized. +</p> + +<p> +"De dear Father be praised if that be'nt Rocket hisself. I've +found him, I've found my Massah Hugh. I tole Miss Ellis I +should, 'case I knows all de way. Dear Massuh Hugh, I'se Sam, +I is," and with a convulsive sob the old negro knelt beside the +white-faced man, who but for this timely aid could hardly +have survived that fearful night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0046" id="h2HCH0046"></a> + CHAPTER XLVI +</h2> +<h3> + HOW SAM CAME THERE +</h3> +<p> +It is more than a year now since last we looked upon the inmates +of Spring Bank, and during that time Kentucky had been +the scene of violence, murder, and bloodshed. The roar of +artillery had been heard upon its hills. Soldiers wearing the +Federal uniform had marched up and down its beaten paths, +encamping for a brief season in its capital, and then departing +to other points where their services were needed more. +</p> + +<p> +Morgan, with his fierce band of guerillas, had carried terror, +dismay, and sometimes death, to many a peaceful home; while +Harney, too, disdaining open, honorable warfare, had joined +himself, it was said, to a horde of savage marauders, gathered, +some from Texas, some from Mississippi, and a few from Tennessee; +but none, to her credit be it said, none from Kentucky, +save their chief, the Rebel Harney, who despised and dreaded +almost equally by Unionist and Confederates, kept the country +between Louisville and Lexington in a constant state of excitement. +</p> + +<p> +At Spring Bank, well known as the home of stanch Unionists, +nothing as yet had been harmed, thanks to Alice's courage +and vigilance, and the skill with which she had not only taught +herself to handle firearms, but also taught the negroes, who, +instead of running away, as the Wendell Phillips men of the +North seem to believe all negroes will do, only give them the +chance, remained firmly at their post, and nightly took turns +in guarding the house against any attack from the guerillas. +</p> + +<p> +Toward Spring Bank Harney had a peculiar spite, and his +threats of violence had more than once reached the ears of +Alice, who wisely kept them from the nervous, timid Mrs. +Worthington. At her instigation, Aunt Eunice had left her +home in the cornfield, and come to Spring Bank, so that the +little garrison numbered four white women, including crazy +Densie, and twelve negro servants. +</p> + +<p> +As the storm grew blacker, it had seemed necessary for Colonel +Tiffton openly to avow his sentiments, and not "sneak +between two fires, for fear of being burned," as Harney wolfishly +told him one day, taunting him with being a "villainous Yankee," +and hinting darkly of the punishment preparing for all +such. +</p> + +<p> +The colonel was not cowardly, but as was natural he did +lean to the Confederacy. "Peaceful separation, if possible," +was his creed; and fully believing the South destined to triumph, +he took that side at last, greatly to the delight of his +high-spirited Nell, who had been a Rebel from the first. The +inmates of Spring Bank, however, were not forgotten by the +colonel, and regularly each morning he rode over to see if all +were safe, sometimes sending there at night one or two of his +own field hands as body guard to Alice, whose courage and intrepidity +in defending her side of the question he greatly admired. +</p> + +<p> +One night, near the middle of summer, Jake, a burly negro, +came earlier than usual, and seeking Alice, thrust into her +hand a note from Colonel Tiffton. It read as follows: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p> +"<span class="smcaps">Dear Alice</span>: I have a suspicion that the villainous scamps, +headed by Harney, mean to steal horses from Spring Bank to-night, +hoping by that means to engage you in a bit of a fight. +In short, Harney was heard to say, 'I'll have every horse from +Spring Bank before to-morrow morning; and if that Yankee +miss appears to dispute my claim, as I trust she will, I'll have +her, too;' and then the bully laid a wager that 'Major Alice,' +as he called you, would be his prisoner in less than forty-eight +hours. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope it is not true, but if he does come, please keep quietly +in the house, and let him take every mother's son of a horse. +I shall be around watching, but hanged if it will do to identify +myself with you as I wish to do. They'd shoot me like a dog." +</p></div> +<p> +To say that Alice felt no fear would be false. There was +a paling of the cheek and a sinking of the heart as she thought +of what the fast-falling night might bring. But her trust was +not in her own strength, and dismissing Jake from her presence, +she bent her face upon the piano lid and prayed most +earnestly to be delivered from the approaching peril, to know +just what to do, and how to act; then summoning the entire +household to the large sitting-room, she explained to them what +she had heard, and asked what they must do. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall we lock ourselves inside the house and let them have +the horses, or shall we try to keep them?" +</p> + +<p> +It took a few minutes for the negroes to recover from their +fright, and when they had done so Claib was the first to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Please, Miss Ellis, Massa Hugh's last words to me was: +'Mind, boy, you takes good keer of de hosses.' Massa Hugh +sot store by dem. He not stay quiet in de chimbly corner and +let Sudden 'Federacy stole 'em." +</p> + +<p> +"Dem's my theology, Miss Ellis," chimed in Uncle Sam, rising +and standing in the midst of the dark group assembled near +the door. "I'se for savin' de horses." +</p> + +<p> +"An' I'se for shootin' Harney," interrupted the little Mug, +her eyes flashing, and her nostrils dilating as she continued: "I +knows it's wicked, but I hates him, an' I never tole you how I +seen him in de woods one day, an' he axes me 'bout my Miss +and Mars'r Hugh—did they writ often, an' was they kinder +sparkin'? I told him none of his bizness, and cut and run, but +he bawl after me and say how't he steal Miss Ellis some night +and make her be his wife. I flung a rock at him, big rock, too, +and cut again. Ugh!" +</p> + +<p> +Mug's face, expressive as it was, only reflected the feelings +of the others and Alice's decision was taken. They would +protect Hugh's horses. But how? That was a perplexing question +until Mug suggested that they be brought into the kitchen, +which adjoined the house, and was much larger than Southern +kitchens usually are. It was a novel idea, but seemed the only +feasible one, and was acted upon at once. The kitchen, however, +would not accommodate the dozen noble animals, Claib's +special pride, and so the carpet was taken from the dining-room +floor, and before the clock struck ten every horse was +stabled in the house, where they stood as quietly as if they, +too, felt the awe, the expectancy of something terrible brooding +over the household. +</p> + +<p> +It was Alice who managed everything, giving directions +where each one of her subordinates was to stay, and what they +were to do in case of an attack. Every door and window was +barricaded, every possible precaution taken, and then, with an +unflinching nerve, Alice stole up the stairs, and unfastening a +trapdoor which led out upon the roof, stood there behind a +huge chimney top, scanning wistfully the darkness of the woods, +waiting, watching for a foe, whose very name was in itself sufficient +to blanch a woman's cheek with fear. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what would Hugh say, if he could see me now?" she +murmured, a tear starting to her eye as she thought of the +dear soldier afar in the tented field, and wondered if he had +forgotten his love for her, as she sometimes feared, or why, +in his many letters, he never breathed a word of aught save +brotherly affection. +</p> + +<p> +She was his mother's amanuensis, and as she could not follow +her epistles, and see how, ere breaking the seal, Hugh's lips were +always pressed to the place where her fingers had traced his +name, she did not guess how precious they were to him, or how +her words of counsel and sympathy kept him often from temptations, +and were molding him so fast into the truly consistent +Christian man she so much wished him to be. He had in one +letter, expressed his surprise that she did not go to Europe, +while she had replied to him: "I never thought of going;" and +this was all the allusion either had made to Irving Stanley since +the day that Hugh left Spring Bank. Gradually, however, the +conviction had crept over Hugh that in his jealousy he acted +hastily, that Irving Stanley had sued for Alice's hand in vain, +but he would not seek an explanation yet; he would do his duty +as a soldier, and when that duty was done, he might, perhaps, +be more worthy of Alice's love. He would have had no doubt +of it now could he have seen her that summer night, and known +her thoughts as she stood patiently at her post, now starting +with a sudden flutter of fear, as what she had at first taken for +the distant trees seemed to assume a tangible form; and again +laughing at her own weakness, as the bristling bayonets subsided +into sleeping shadows beneath the forest boughs. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Ellis, did you hear dat ar?" came in a whisper from +the opening of the roof, and with a suppressed scream Alice +recognized Muggins, who had followed her young mistress, and +for the last half hour had been poising herself, first on one foot +and then upon the other, as she stood upon the topmost narrow +stairs, with her woolly head protruding just above the roof, and +her cat-like ears listening for some sound. +</p> + +<p> +"How came you here?" Alice asked, and Mug replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I thinks dis the best place to fire at Mas'r Harney. Mug's +gwine to take aim, fire, bang, so," and the queer child illustrated +by holding up a revolver which she had used more than once +under Alice's supervision, and with which she had armed herself. +</p> + +<p> +Alice could not forbear a smile, but it froze on her lips, as +clutching her dress Mug whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Dar they comes," pointing at the same time toward the +woods where a band of men was distinctly visible, marching +directly upon Spring Bank. +</p> + +<p> +"Will I bang 'em now?" Mug asked, but Alice stopped her +with a sign, and leaning against the chimney, stood watching +the advancing foe, who, led by Harney, made straight for the +stables, their suppressed voices reaching her where she stood, as +did their oaths and imprecations when they found their booty +gone. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's consultation and then Harney, dismounting, +came into the yard and seemed to be inspecting the +dark, silent building, which gave no sign of life. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll try the cabins first. We'll make the negroes tell +where the horses are," Alice heard him say, but the cabins were +as empty as the stalls, and in some perplexity Harney gave +orders for them to see, "if the old rookery were vacant +too." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Harney, may I ask why you are here?" +</p> + +<p> +The clear, silvery tones rang out on the still night and +startled that guerilla band almost as much as would a shell +dropped suddenly in their midst. Looking in the direction +whence the voice had come they saw the girlish figure clearly +defined upon the housetop, and one, a burly, brutal Texan, +raised his gun, but Harney struck it down, and involuntarily +lifting his cap, replied: +</p> + +<p> +"We are here for horses, Miss Johnson. We know Mr. +Worthington keeps the best in the country, and as we need +some, we have come to take possession, peaceably if possible, +forcibly if need be. Can you tell us where they are?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can," and Alice's voice did not tremble a particle. "They +are safely housed in the kitchen and dining-room and the doors +are barred." +</p> + +<p> +"The fair Alice will please unbar them," was Harney's sneering +reply, to which came back the answer: "The horses are +not yours; they are Captain Worthington's, and we will defend +them, if need be, with our lives!" +</p> + +<p> +"Gritty, by George! I didn't know as Yankee gals, had such +splendid pluck," muttered one of the men, while Harney continued: +"You say 'we.' May I ask the number of your +forces?" +</p> + +<p> +Ere Alice could speak old Sam's voice was heard parleying +with the marauders. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a nigger, shoot him!" growled one, but the white +head was withdrawn from view just in time to escape the ball +aimed at it. +</p> + +<p> +There was a rush, now for the kitchen door, a horrid sound +of fearful oaths, mingled with the cries of the negroes, the +furious yells of Rover, whom Lulu had let loose, and the neighing +of the frightened steeds. But amid it all Alice retained her +self-possession. She had descended from her post on the housetop, +and persuading Mrs. Worthington, Aunt Eunice, and Densie +to remain quietly in her own room, joined the negroes below, +cheering them by her presence, and by her apparent fearlessness +keeping up their sinking courage. +</p> + +<p> +"We's better gin dem de hosses, Miss Ellis," Claib said, entreatingly, +as blow after blow fell upon the yielding door—"'cause +dey's boun' to hab 'em." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll try argument first with their leader," Alice replied, and +ere Claib suspected her intention she was undoing the fastenings +of a side door, bidding him bolt it after her as soon as she +was safely through it." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Miss Ellis crazy?" shrieked Sam. "Dem men has no +'spect for female wimmen," and he was forcibly detaining her, +when the sharp ring of a revolver was heard, accompanied by +a demoniacal shriek as a tall body leaped high in the air and +then fell, weltering in its blood. +</p> + +<p> +A moment more and a little dusky figure came flying down +the stairs, and hiding itself behind the astonished Alice, sobbed +hysterically: "I'se done it, I has! I'se shooted old Harney!" +and Mug, overcome with excitement, rolled upon the floor like +an India rubber ball. +</p> + +<p> +It was true, as Mug had said. Secreted by the huge chimney +she had watched the proceedings below, keeping her eye fixed +on him she knew to be Harney; and, at last, when a favorable +opportunity occurred, had sent the ball which carried death to +him and dismay to his adherents, who crowded around their +fallen leader, forgetful now of the prey for which they had +come, and anxious only for flight. Possibly, too, their desire +to be off was augmented by the fact that from the woods came +the sound of voices and the tramp of horses' feet—Colonel Tiffton, +who, with a few of his neighbors, was coming to the rescue +of Spring Bank. But their services were not needed to drive +away the foe, for ere they reached the gate, the yard was free +from the invaders, who, bearing their wounded leader, Harney, +in their midst, disappeared behind the hill, one of them, the +brutal Texan, who had raised his gun at Alice, lingering behind +the rest, and looking back to see the result of his infernal deed. +Secretly, when no one knew it, he had kindled a fire at the +rear of the wooden building, which being old and dry caught +readily, and burned like tinder. +</p> + +<p> +Alice was the first to discover it, and "Fire! fire!" was +echoed frantically from one to the other, while all did their +best to subdue it. But their efforts were in vain; nothing could +stay its progress, and when the next morning's sun arose it +shone on the blackened, smoking ruins of Spring Bank, and on +the tearful group standing near to what had been their happy +home. The furniture mostly had been saved, and was scattered +about the yard just where it had been deposited. There had +been some parley between the negroes as to which should be +left to burn, the old secretary at the end of the upper hall, or a +bureau which stood in an adjoining and otherwise empty room. +</p> + +<p> +"Massah done keep his papers here. We'll take dis," Claib +had said, and so, assisted by other negroes and Mug, he had +carried the old worm-eaten thing down the stairs, and bearing +it across the yard, had dropped it rather suddenly, for it was +wondrously heavy, and the sweat stood in great drops on the +faces of the blacks, as they deposited the load and turned away +so quickly as not to see the rotten bottom splintering to pieces, +or the yellow coin dropping upon the grass. +</p> + +<p> +Making the circuit of the yard in company with Colonel Tiffton, +Alice's eye was caught by the flashing of something beneath +the bookcase, and stooping down she uttered a cry of surprise +as she picked up and held to view a golden guinea. Another, +and another, and another—they were thick as berries on +the hills, and in utter amazement she turned to the equally +astonished colonel for an explanation. It cams to him after a +little. That bookcase, with its false bottom and secret drawers, +had been the hiding place of the miserly John Stanley's gold. +In his will, he had spoken of that particularly, bidding Hugh +be careful of it, as it had come to him from his grandfather, +and this was the result. What had been a mystery to the colonel +was explained. He knew what John Stanley had done with all +his money, and that Hugh Worthington's poverty was now a +thing of the past. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad of it—the boy deserves this streak of luck, if ever +a fellow did," he said, as he made his rapid explanations to +Alice, who listened like one bewildered, while all the time she +was gathering up the golden coin, which kept dropping from +the sides and chinks of the bookcase. +</p> + +<p> +There was quite a little fortune, and Alice suggested that it +should be kept a secret for the present from all save Mrs. Worthington, +a plan to which the colonel assented, helping Alice to +recover and secrete her treasure, and then going with her to +Mrs. Worthington, who sat weeping silently over the ruins of +her home. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Hugh, we are beggars now," she moaned, refusing at +first to listen to Alice's attempts at consolation. +</p> + +<p> +They told her at last what they had found, proving their +words by occular demonstration, and proposing to her that the +story should go no further until Hugh had been consulted. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll go home with me, of course," the colonel said, "and +then we'll see what must be done." +</p> + +<p> +This seemed the only feasible arrangement, and the family +carriage was brought around to take the ladies to Mosside—the +negroes, whose cabins had not been burned, staying at +Spring-Bank to watch the fire, and see that it spread no farther. +But Alice could not remain in quietness at Mosside, and early +the next morning she rode down to Spring Bank, where the +negroes greeted her with loud cries of welcome, asking her +numberless questions as to what they were to do, and who +would go after "Massah Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to be the prevailing opinion that he must come +home, and Alice thought so, too. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think, Uncle Sam?" she asked, turning to the +old man, who replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I thinks a heap of things, and if Miss Ellis comes dis way +where so many can't be listen in', I tella her my mind." +</p> + +<p> +Alice followed him to a respectable distance from the others, +and sitting down upon a chair standing there, waited for Sam +to begin. +</p> + +<p> +Twirling his old straw hat awkwardly for a moment, he +stammered out: +</p> + +<p> +"What for did Massah Hugh jine de army?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because he thought it his duty," was Alice's reply, and Sam +continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but dar is anodder reason. 'Scuse me, miss, but I can't +keep still an' see it all agwine wrong. 'Seuse me 'gin, miss, but +is you ever gwine to hev that chap what comed here oncet a +sparkin'—Massah Irving, I means?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice's blue eyes turned inquiringly upon him, as she replied: +"Never, Uncle Sam. I never intended to marry him. Why +do you ask?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Cause, miss, when a young gal lets her head lay spang +on a fellow's buzzum, and he a kissin' her, it looks mighty like +somethin'. Yes, berry like;" and in his own way Sam confessed +what he had seen more than a year ago, and told, too, +how Hugh had overheard the words of love breathed by Irving +Stanley, imitating, as far as possible, his master's manner as +he turned away, and walked hurriedly down the piazza. +</p> + +<p> +Then he confessed what, in the evening, he had repeated to +Hugh, telling Alice how "poor massah groan, wid face in his +hands, and how next day he went off, never to come back +again." +</p> + +<p> +In mute silence, Alice listened to a story which explained +much that had been strange to her before, and as she listened, +her resolve was made. +</p> + +<p> +"Sam," she said, when he had finished, "I wish I had known +this before. It might have saved your master much anxiety. +I am going North—going to Snowdon first, and then to Washington, +in hopes of finding him." +</p> + +<p> +In a moment Sam was on his knees, begging to go with her. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't leave me, Miss Ellis. Take me 'long. Please take +me to Massah Hugh. I'se quite peart now, and kin look after +Miss Ellis a heap." +</p> + +<p> +Alice could not promise till she had talked with Mrs. Worthington, +whose anxiety to go North was even greater than her +own. They would be nearer to Hugh, and by going to Washington +would probably see him, she said, while it seemed that she +should by some means be brought near to her daughter, of whom +no tidings had been received as yet. So it was arranged that +Mrs. Worthington, Alice and Densie, together with Lulu and +Sam, should start at once for Snowdon, where Alice would +leave a part of her charge, herself and Mrs. Worthington going +on to Washington in hopes of meeting or hearing directly from +Hugh. Aunt Eunice and Mug were to remain with Colonel +Tiffton, who promised to look after the Spring Bank negroes. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, one week after the fire, Alice found herself at +the same station in Lexington where once Hugh Worthington, +to her unknown, had waited for her coming. The morning +papers were just out, and securing one for herself, she entered +the car and read the following announcement: +</p> +<div class="quote"><p class="noindent"> +"DIED, at his country residence, from the effect of a shot +received while dastardly attacking a house belonging to Unionists, +Robert Harney, Esq., aged thirty-three." +</p></div> +<p> +With a shudder Alice pointed out the paragraph to Mrs. +Worthington, and laying her head upon her hand prayed +silently that there might come a speedy end to the horrors +entailed by the cruel war. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0047" id="h2HCH0047"></a> + CHAPTER XLVII +</h2> +<h3> + FINDING HUGH +</h3> +<p> +Sweet Anna Millbrook's eyes were dim with tears, and her +heart was sore with pain when told that Alice Johnson, was +waiting for her in the parlor below. Only the day before had +she heard of her brother's disgrace, feeling as she heard it, how +much rather she would that he had died ere there were so many +stains upon his name. But Alice would comfort her, and she +hastened to meet her. Sitting down beside her, she talked with +her long of all that had transpired since last they met; talked, +too, of Adah, and then of Willie, who was sent for, and at +Alice's request taken by her to the hotel, where Mrs. Worthington +was stopping. He had grown to be a most beautiful and +engaging child, and Mrs. Worthington justly felt a thrill of +pride as she clasped him to her bosom, weeping over him passionately. +She could scarcely bear to lose him from her sight, +and when later in the day Anna came down for him, she begged +hard for him to stay. But Willie was rather shy of his new +grandmother, and preferred returning with Mrs. Millbrook, who +promised that he should come every day so long as Mrs. Worthington +remained at the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Mrs. Richards learned that Mrs. Worthington and +Alice were in town, she insisted upon their coming to Terrace +Hill. There was room enough, she said, and her friends were +welcome there for as long a time as they chose to stay. There +were the pleasant chambers fitted up for 'Lina, they had never +been occupied, and Mrs. Worthington could have them as well +as not; or better yet—could take Anna's old chamber, with the +little room adjoining, where Adah used to sleep. Mrs. Worthington +preferred the latter, and removed with Alice at Terrace +Hill, while at Anna's request Densie went to the Riverside Cottage, +where she used to live, and where she was much happier +than she would have been with strangers. +</p> + +<p> +Not long could Mrs. Worthington stay contentedly at Snowdon, +and after a time Alice started with her and Lulu for +Washington, taking Sam also, partly because he begged so hard +to go, and partly because she did not care to trouble her friends +with the old man, who seemed a perfect child in his delight at +the prospect of seeing "Massah Hugh." But to see him was +not so easy a matter. Indeed, he seemed farther off at Washington +than he had done at Spring Bank, and Alice sometimes +questioned the propriety of having left Kentucky at all. They +were not very comfortable at Washington, and as Mrs. Worthington +pined for the pure country air, Alice managed at last to +procure board for herself, Mrs. Worthington, Lulu and Sam, +at the house of a friend whose acquaintance she had made at +the time of her visit to Virginia. It was some distance from +Washington, and so near to Bull Run that when at last the +second disastrous battle was fought in that vicinity, the roar +of the artillery was distinctly heard, and they who listened to +the noise of that bloody conflict knew just when the battle +ceased, and thought with tearful anguish of the poor, maimed, +suffering wretches left to bleed and die alone. They knew Hugh +must have been in the battle, and Mrs. Washington's anxiety +amounted almost to insanity, while Alice, with blanched cheek +and compressed lip, could only pray silently that he might be +spared, and might yet come back to them. Only Sam thought +of acting. +</p> + +<p> +"Now is the time," he said to Alice, as they stood talking +together of Hugh, and wondering if he were safe. "Something +tell me Massah Hugh is hurted somewhar, and I'se gwine to +find him. I knows all de way, an' every tree around dat place. +I can hide from de 'Federacy. Dem Rebels let ole white-har'd +nigger look for young massah, and I'se gwine. P'raps I not +find him, but I does somebody some good. I helps somebody's +Massah Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +It seemed a crazy project, letting that old man start off on +so strange an errand, but Sam was determined. +</p> + +<p> +He had a "'sentiment," as he said, that Hugh was wounded, +and he must go to him. +</p> + +<p> +In his presentiment Alice had no faith; but she did not oppose +him, and at parting she said to him, hesitatingly: +</p> + +<p> +"Sam, if you do find your master wounded, and you think +him dying, you may tell him—tell him—that I said—I loved +him; and had he ever come back, I would have been his wife." +</p> + +<p> +"I tells him, and that raises Massah Hugh from de very +jaws of death," was Sam's reply, as he departed on his errand +of mercy, which proved not to be a fruitless one, for he did find +his master, and falling on his knees beside him, uttered the joyful +words we have before repeated. +</p> + +<p> +To the faint, half-dying Hugh, it seemed more like a dream +than a reality—that familiar voice from home, and that dusky +form bending over him so pityingly. He could not comprehend +how Sam came there, or what he was saying to him. Something +he heard of burning houses, and ole miss and Snowdon, and +Washington; but nothing was real until he caught the name of +Alice, and thought Sam said she was there. +</p> + +<p> +"Where, Sam—where?" he asked, trying to raise himself +upon his elbow. "Is Alice here, did you say?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, massah; not 'zactly here—but on de road. If massah +could ride, Sam hold him on, like massah oncet held on ole +Sam, and we'll get to her directly. They's kind o' Secesh folks +whar she is, but mighty good to her. She knowed 'em 'fore, +'case way down here is whar Sam was sold dat time Miss Ellis +comed and show him de road to Can'an. Miss Ellis tell me +somethin' nice for Massah Hugh, ef he's dyin'—suffin make him +so glad. Is you dyin', massah?" +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly think I am as bad as that. Can't you tell unless +I am near to death?" Hugh said; and Sam replied: +</p> + +<p> +"No, massah; dem's my orders. 'Ef he's dyin', Sam, tell +him I'—dat's what she say. Maybe you is dyin', massah. Feel +and see!" +</p> + +<p> +"It's possible," and something like his old mischievous smile +played around Hugh's white lips as he asked how a chap felt +when he was dying. +</p> + +<p> +"I'se got mizzable mem'ry, and I don't justly 'member," was +Sam's answer; "but I reckons he feel berry queer and choky—berry." +</p> + +<p> +"That's exactly my case, so you may venture to tell," Hugh +said; and getting his face close to that of the young man, Sam +whispered: "She say, 'Tell Massah Hugh—I—I—' You's +sure you's dyin'?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure I feel as you said I must," Hugh, continued, and +Sam went on: "'Tell him I loves him; and ef he lives I'll be +his wife.' Dem's her very words, nigh as I can 'member—but +what is massah goin' to do?" he continued in some surprise, +as Hugh attempted to rise. +</p> + +<p> +"Do? I'm going to Alice," was Hugh's reply, as with a +moan he sank back again, too weak to rise alone. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you be'nt dyin', after all," was Sam's rueful comment, +as he suggested: "Ef massah only clamber onto Rocket." +</p> + +<p> +This was easier proposed than done, but after several trials +Hugh succeeded; and, with Sam steadying him, while he half +lay on Rocket's neck, Hugh proceeded slowly and safely through +the woods, meeting at last with some Unionists, who gave him +what aid they could, and did not leave him until they saw +him safely deposited in an ambulance, which, in spite of his +entreaties, took him direct to Georgetown. It was a bitter +disappointment to Hugh, so bitter, indeed, that he scarcely +felt the pain when his broken arm was set; and when, at last, +he was left alone in his narrow hospital bed, he turned his face +to the wall and cried, just as many a poor, homesick soldier +had done before him, and will do again. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty-four hours had passed, and in Hugh's room it was +growing dark again. All the day he had watched anxiously the +door through which visitors would enter, asking repeatedly if +no one had called for him; but just as the sun was going down +he fell away to sleep, dreaming at last that Golden Hair was +there—that her soft, white hands were on his brow, her sweet +lips pressed to his, while her dear voice murmured softly: "Darling +Hugh!" +</p> + +<p> +There was a cry of pain from a distant corner, and Hugh +awoke to consciousness—awoke to know it was no dream—the +soft hands on his brow, the kiss upon his lips—for Golden Hair +was there; and by the tears she dropped upon his face, and the +mute caresses she gave him, he knew that Sam had told him +truly. For several minutes there was silence between them, +while the eyes looked into each other with a deeper meaning +than words could have expressed; then, smoothing back his +damp brown hair, and letting her fingers still rest upon his +forehead, Alice whispered to him: "Why did you distrust me, +Hugh? But for that we need not have been separated so long." +</p> + +<p> +Winding his well arm around her neck, and drawing her +nearer to him, Hugh answered: +</p> + +<p> +"It was best just as it is. Had I been sure of your love, I +should have found it harder to leave home. My country needed +me. I am glad I have done what I could to defend it. Glad +that I joined the army, for Alice, darling, Golden Hair, in my +lonely tent reading that little Bible you gave me so long ago, +the Savior found me, and now, whether I live or not, it is well, +for if I die, I am sure you will be mine in heaven; and if I +live—" +</p> + +<p> +Alice finished the sentence for him. +</p> + +<p> +If you live, God willing, I shall be your wife. Dear Hugh, +I bless the Good Father, first for bringing you to Himself, and +then restoring you to me, darling Hugh." +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0048" id="h2HCH0048"></a> + CHAPTER XLVIII +</h2> +<h3> + GOING HOME +</h3> +<p> +The Village hearse was waiting at Snowdon depot, and close +beside it stood the carriage from Terrace Hill; the one sent +there for Adah, the other for her husband, whose lifeblood, so +freely shed, had wiped away all stains upon his memory, and +enshrined him in the hearts of Snowdon's people as a martyr. +He was the first dead soldier returned to them, his the first +soldier's grave in their churchyard; and so a goodly throng +were there, with plaintive fife and muffled drum, to do him +honor. His major was coming with him, it was said—Major +Stanley, who had himself been found, in a half-fainting condition +watching by the dead—Major Stanley, who had seen that +the body was embalmed, had written to the wife, and had attended +to everything, even to coming on himself by way of +showing his respect. Death is a great softener of errors; and +the village people, who could not remember a time when they +had not disliked John Richards, forgot his faults now that he +was dead. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed a long-time-waiting for the train, but it came at +last, and the crowd involuntarily made a movement forward, +and then drew back as a tall figure appeared upon the platform, +his stylish uniform betokening an officer of rank, and his manner +showing plainly that he was master of ceremonies. +</p> + +<p> +"Major Stanley," ran in a whisper through the crowd, whose +wonder increased when another, and, if possible, a finer-looking +man, emerged into view, his right arm in a sling, and his face +pale and worn, from the effects of recent illness. He had not +been expected, and many curious glances were cast at him as, +slowly descending the steps, he gave his well hand to the lady +following close behind, Mrs. Worthington; they knew her, and +recognized also the two young ladies, Alice and Adah, as they +sprang from the car. Poor Adah! how she shrank from the +public gaze, shuddering as on her way to the carriage she passed +the long box the men were handling so carefully. +</p> + +<p> +Summoned by Irving Stanley, she had come on to Washington +to meet, not a living husband, but a husband dead, and +while there had learned that Mrs. Worthington, Hugh, and +Alice were all in Georgetown, whither she hastened at once, +eager to meet the mother whom she had never yet met as such. +Immediately after the discovery of her parentage, she had +written to Kentucky, but the letter had not reached its destination, +consequently no one but Hugh knew how near she was; +and he had only learned it a few days before the battle, when +he had, by accident, a few moments' conversation with Dr. Richards, +whom he had purposely avoided. He was talking of Adah, +and the practicability of sending for her, when she arrived at +the private boarding house to which he had been removed. +</p> + +<p> +The particulars of that interview between the mother and her +daughter we cannot describe, as no one witnessed it save God; +but Adah's face was radiant with happiness, and her soft, brown +eyes beaming with joy when it was ended, and she went next +to where Hugh was waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Hugh, my noble brother!" was all she could say, as she +wound her arms around his neck and pressed her fair cheek +against his own, forgetting, in those moments of perfect bliss, +all the sorrow, all the anguish of the past. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was it until Hugh said to her: "The doctor was in that +battle. Did he escaped unharmed?" that a shadow dimmed the +sunshine flooding her pathway that autumn morning. +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of him the muscles about her mouth grew +rigid, and a look of pain flitted across her face, showing that +there was yet much of bitterness mingled in her cup of joy. Composing +herself as soon as possible she told Hugh that she was a +widow, but uttered no word of complaint against the dead, and +Hugh, knowing that she could not sorrow as other women have +sorrowed over the loved ones slain in battle, drew her nearer +to him, and after speaking a few words of poor 'Lina, told her +of the golden fortune which had so unexpectedly come to him, +and added: "And you shall share it with me. Your home shall +be with me and Golden Hair—Alice—who has promised to be +my wife. We will live very happily together yet, my sister." +</p> + +<p> +Then he asked what Major Stanley's plan was concerning the +body of her husband, and upon learning that it was to bury the +doctor at home, he announced his determination to accompany +them, as he knew he should be able to do so. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh had no suspicion of the truth, but Alice guessed it +readily, and could scarcely forbear throwing her arms around +Adah's neck and whispering to her how glad she was. She had +said to her softly: "I am to be your sister, Adah—are you +willing to receive me?" and Adah had only answered by a +warm pressure of the hand she held in hers and by the tears +which shone in her brown eyes. +</p> + +<p> +It was a great trial to Adah to face the crowd they found +assembled at the depot, but Irving, Hugh, and Alice all helped +to screen her from observation, and almost before she was +aware of it she found herself safe in the carriage which effectually +hid her from view. Slowly the procession moved through +the village, the foot passengers keeping time to the muffled +drum, whose solemn beats had never till that morning been +heard in the quiet streets. The wide gate which led into the +grounds of Terrace Hill was opened wide, and the black hearse +passed in, followed by the other carriages, which wound around +the hill and up to the huge building where badges of mourning +were hung out—mourning for the only son, the youngest born, +the once pride and pet of the stately woman who watched the +coming of that group with tear-dimmed eyes, holding upon her +lap the little boy whose father they were bringing in, dead, +coffined for the grave. Not for the world would that high-bred +woman have been guilty of an impropriety, and so she sat in +her own room, while Charlie Millbrook met the bearers in the +hall and told them where to deposit their burden. +</p> + +<p> +In the same room where we first saw him on the night of his +return from Europe, they left him, and went their way, while +to Dixson and Pamelia was accorded the honor of first welcoming +Adah, whom they treated with as much deference as +if she had never been with them in any capacity save that of +mistress. She had changed since they last saw her—was wonderfully +improved, they said to each other as they left her at +the door of the room, where Mrs. Richards, with her two older +daughters, was waiting to receive her. But if the servants were +struck with the air of dignity and cultivation which Adah acquired +during her tour in Europe, how much more did this +same air impress the haughty ladies waiting for her appearance, +and feeling a little uncertain as to how they should receive +her. Any doubts, however, which they had upon this subject +were dispelled the moment she entered the room, and they saw +at a glance that it was not the timid, shrinking Rose Markham +with whom they had to deal, but a woman as wholly self-possessed +as themselves, and one with whose bearing even their +critical eyes would find no fault. She would not suffer them +to patronize her; they must treat her fully as an equal or as +nothing, and with a new-born feeling of pride in her late son's +widow, Mrs. Richards arose, and putting Willie from her lap, +advanced to meet her, cordially extending her hand, but uttering +no word of welcome. Adah took the hand, but her eyes +never sought the face of her lady mother. They were riveted +with a hungry, wistful, longing look on Willie, the little boy, +who, clinging to his grandmother's skirts, peered curiously at +her, holding back at first, when, unmindful of Asenath and +Eudora, who had not yet been greeted, she tried to take him in +her arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Willie, darling, don't you know me? I am poor mamma," +and Adah's voice was choked with sobs at this unlooked-for +reception from her child. +</p> + +<p> +He had been sent for from Anna's home to meet his mother, +because it was proper; but no one at Terrace Hill had said to +him that the mamma for whom sweet Anna taught him daily +to pray was coming. She was not in his mind, and as eighteen +months had obliterated all memories of the gentle, girlish creature +he once knew as mother, he could not immediately identify +that mother with the lady before him. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sad disappointment to Adah, and without knowing +what she was doing, she sank down upon the sofa, and involuntarily +laying her head in Mrs. Richards' lap, cried bitterly, her +tears bringing answering ones from the eyes of all three of +the ladies, for they half believed her grief, in part, was for the +lifeless form in the room below. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor child, you are tired and worn. It is hard to lose him +just as there was a prospect of perfect reconciliation with us +all," Mrs. Richards said, softly smoothing the brown tresses lying +on her lap, and thinking even then that curls were more becoming +to her daughter-in-law than braids had been, but wondering +why, now she was in mourning, Adah had persisted in wearing +them. +</p> + +<p> +"Pretty girl, pretty turls, is you tyin'?" and won by her distress, +Willie drew near, and laid his baby hand upon the curls +he thought so pretty. +</p> + +<p> +"That's mamma, Willie," Asenath said; "the mamma Aunt +Anna said would come some time—Willie's mamma. Can't he +kiss her?" +</p> + +<p> +The child could not resist the face which, lifting itself up, +looked eagerly at him, and he put up his little hands for Adah +to take him, returning the kisses she showered upon him and +clinging to her neck, while he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Is you mam-ma sure? I prays for mam-ma—God take care +of her, and pa-pa too. He's dead. They brought him back with +a dum. Poor pa-pa, Willie don't want him dead;" and the +little lip began to quiver. +</p> + +<p> +Never before since she knew she was a widow had Adah +felt so vivid a sensation of something akin to affection for the +dead, as when her child and his mourned so plaintively for +papa; and the tears which now fell like rain were not for Willie +alone, but were given rather to the dead. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Richards has not yet greeted us," Asenath said; and +turning to her at once, Adah apologized for her seeming neglect, +pressing both her and Eudora's hands more cordially than she +would have done a few moments before. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Anna?" she asked; and Mrs. Richards replied: +</p> + +<p> +"She's sick. She regretted much that she could not come +up here to-day;" while Willie, standing in Adah's lap, with his +chubby arm around her neck, chimed in. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know what we've dot. We've dot 'ittle baby, we +has." +</p> + +<p> +Adah knew now why Anna was absent, and why Charlie Millbrook +looked so happy when at last he came in to see her, delivering +sundry messages from his Anna, who, he said could +scarcely wait to see her dear sister. There was something +genuine in Charlie's greeting, something which made Adah feel +as if she were indeed at home, and she wondered much how even +the Richards race could ever have objected to him, as she +watched his movements and heard him talking with his stately +mother. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Major Stanley came," he said, in reply to her questions, +and Adah was glad it was put to him, for the blushes +dyed her cheek at once, and she bent over Willie to hide them, +while Charlie continued: "Captain Worthington came, too, +Adah's brother, you know. He was in the same battle with +the doctor, was wounded rather seriously and has been discharged, +I believe." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," and Mrs. Richards seemed quite interested now, asking +where the young men were, and appearing disappointed when +told that, after waiting a few moments in hopes of seeing the +ladies, they had returned to the hotel, where Mrs. Worthington +and Alice were stopping. +</p> + +<p> +"I fully expected the ladies here; pray, send for them at +once," she said, but Adah interposed: +</p> + +<p> +"Her mother would not willingly be separated from Hugh, +and as he of course would remain at the hotel, it would be useless +to think of persuading Mrs. Worthington to come to Terrace +Hill." +</p> + +<p> +"But Miss Johnson surely will come," persisted Mrs. Richards. +</p> + +<p> +Adah could not explain then that Alice was less likely to +leave Hugh than her mother, but she said: "Miss Johnson, I +think, will not leave mother alone," and so the matter was +settled. +</p> + +<p> +It was a terribly long day to Adah, for Mrs. Richards and +her daughter kept their darkened room, seeing no one who +called, and appearing shocked when Adah stole out from their +presence, and taking Willie with her, sought the servants' sitting-room, +where the atmosphere was not so laden with restraint. +Once the elder lady rang for Pamelia, asking where Mrs. Richards +was, and looking a little distressed when told she was in +the garden playing with Willie. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, do you want her?" was Pamelia's blunt inquiry, to +which her mistress responded with an aggrieved sigh: +</p> + +<p> +"No-o, only I thought perhaps she was with her dead husband; +but, poor thing, it is not her nature, I presume, to take +it much to heart." +</p> + +<p> +Pamelia didn't believe she did "take it much to heart." Indeed, +she didn't see how she could, but she said nothing, and +Adah was left to play with Willie until Alice was announced +as being in the reception-room. She had driven around, she +said, to call on Mrs. Richards, and after that take Adah with +her to the cottage, where Anna, she knew, was anxious to receive +her. At first Mrs. Richards demurred, fearing it would +be improper, but saying: "my late son's wife is, of course, her +own mistress, and can do as she likes." +</p> + +<p> +Very adroitly Alice waived all objections, and bore Adah off +in triumph. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew you must be lonely up there," she said, as they drove +slowly along, "and there can be no harm in visiting one's sick +sister." +</p> + +<p> +Anna surely did not think there was, as her warm, welcoming +kisses fully testified. +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted so much to see you to-day," she said, "that I have +worked myself into quite a fever; but knowing mother as I do, +I feared she might not sanction your coming;" then proudly +turning down the blanket, she disclosed the red-faced baby, who, +just one week ago, had come to the Riverside Cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't he a beauty?" she asked, pressing her lips upon the +wrinkled forehead. "A boy, too, and looks so much like Charlie, +but—" and her soft, blue eyes seemed more beautiful than +ever with the maternal love-shining for them, "I shall not +call him Charlie, nor yet John, though mother's heart is set on +the latter name. I can't. I loved my brother dearly, and never +so much as now that he is dead, but my baby boy must not +bear his name, and so I have chosen Hugh, Hugh Richards. I +know it will please you both," and she glanced archly at Alice, +who blushingly kissed the little boy who was to bear the name +dearest to her of all others. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh—they talked of him a while, and then Anna spoke of +Irving Stanley, expressing her fears that she could not see him +to thank him for his kindness and forbearance to her erring +brother. +</p> + +<p> +"He must be noble and good," she said, then turning to +Adah, she continued: "You were with him a year. You must +know him well. Do you like him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," and Adah's face was all ablaze, as the simple answer +dropped from her lips. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Anna regarded her intently, then her eyes +were withdrawn and her white hand beat the counterpane softly, +but nothing more was said of Irving Stanley then. +</p> + +<p> +The next day near the sunsetting, they buried the dead +soldier, Mrs. Richards and Adah standing side by side as the +body was lowered to its last resting place, the older leaning +upon the younger for support, and feeling as she went back +to her lonely home and heard the merry laugh of little Willie +in the hall that she was glad her son had married the young +girl, who, now that John was gone forever from her sight began +to be very dear to her as his wife, the Lily whom he had loved +so much. In the dusky twilight of that night when alone with +Adah she told her as much, speaking sadly of the past, which +she regretted, and wishing she had never objected to receiving +the girl about whom John wrote so lovingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Had I done differently he might have been living now, and +you might have been spared much pain, but you'll forgive me. +I'm an old woman, I am breaking fast, and soon shall follow my +boy, but while I live I wish for peace, and you must love me, +Lily, because I was his mother. Let me call you Lily, as he +did," and the hand of her who had conceded so much rested +entreatingly upon the bowed head of the young girl beside her. +There was no acting there, Adah knew, and clasping the trembling +hand she involuntarily whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"I will love you, mother, I will." +</p> + +<p> +"And stay with me, too?" Mrs. Richards continued, her +voice choked with the sobs she could not repress, when she +heard herself called mother by the girl she had so wronged. +"You will stay with him, Lily. Anna is gone, my other daughters +are old. We are lonely in this great house. We +need somebody young to cheer our solitude, and you will +stay, as mistress, if you choose, or as a petted, youngest daughter." +</p> + +<p> +This was an unlooked for trial to Adah. She had not dreamed +of living there at Terrace Hill, when Hugh and her own mother +could make her so happy in their home. But Adah had never +consulted her own happiness, and as she listened to the pleading +tones of the woman who surely had some heart, some noble +qualities, she felt that 'twas her duty to remain there for a +time at least, and so she replied at last: +</p> + +<p> +"I expected to live with my own mother, but for the present +my home shall be here with you." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, darling," and the proud woman's lips touched +the fair cheek, while the proud woman's hand smoothed again +the soft short curls, pushing them back from the white brow, as +she murmured: "You are very beautiful, my child, just as John +said you were." +</p> + +<p> +It was hard for Adah to tell Mrs. Worthington that she could +not make one of the circle who would gather around the home +fireside Hugh was to purchase somewhere, but she did at last, +standing firmly by her decision and saying in reply to her +mother's entreaties: "It is my duty. They need me more +than you, who have both Hugh and Alice." +</p> + +<p> +Adah was right, so Hugh said, and Alice, too, while Irving +Stanley said nothing. He must have found much that was +attractive about the little town of Snowdon, for he lingered +there long after there was not the least excuse for staying. He +did not go often to Terrace Hill, and when he did, he never +asked for Adah, but so long as he could see her on the Sabbath +days when, with the Richards' family she walked quietly up +the aisle, her cheek flushing when she passed him, and so long +as he occasionally met her at Mrs. Worthington's rooms, or saw +her riding in the Richards' carriage, so long was he content to +stay. But there came a time when he must go, and then he +asked for Adah, and in the presence of her mother-in-law invited +her to go with him to her husband's grave. She went, taking +Willie with her, and there, with that fresh mound between +them, Irving Stanley told her what he had hitherto withheld, +told what the dying soldier had said, and asked if it should +be so. +</p> + +<p> +"Not now, not yet," he continued, as Adah's eyes were bent +upon that grave, "but by and by, will you do your husband's +bidding—be my wife?" +</p> + +<p> +"I will," and taking Willie's hand Adah put it with hers into +the broad, warm palm which clasped them both, as Irving whispered: +"Your child, darling, shall be mine, and never need +he know that I am not his father." +</p> + +<p> +It was arranged that Alice should tell Mrs. Richards, as Adah +would have no concealments. Accordingly, Alice asked a private +interview with the lady, to whom she told everything as +she understood it. And Mrs. Richards, though weeping bitterly, +generously exonerated Adah from all blame, commended +her as having acted very wisely, and then added, with a flush +of pride: +</p> + +<p> +"Many a woman would be glad to marry Irving Stanley, and +it gives me pleasure to know that to my son's widow the honor +is accorded. He is worthy to take John's place, and she, I believe, +is worthy of him. I love her already as my daughter, and +shall look upon him as a son. You say they are in the garden. +Let them both come to me." +</p> + +<p> +They came, and listened quietly, while Mrs. Richards sanctioned +their engagement, and then, with a little eulogy upon her +departed son, said to Adah: "You will wait a year, of course. +It will not be proper before." +</p> + +<p> +Irving had hoped for only six months' probation, but Adah +was satisfied with the year, and they went from Mrs. Richards' +presence with the feeling that Providence was indeed smiling +upon their pathway, and flooding it with sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Major Stanley left Snowdon, but not until +there had come to Hugh a letter, whose handwriting made Mrs. +Worthington turn pale, it brought back so vividly the terror of +the olden times. It was from Murdock, and it inclosed for +Densie Densmore the sum of five hundred dollars. +</p> + +<p> +"Should she need more, I will try and supply it," he wrote, +"for I have wronged her cruelly." Then, after speaking of his +fruitless search for Adah, and his hearing at last that she was +found and Dr. Richards dead, he added: "As there is nothing +left for me to do, and as I am sure to be playing mischief if +idle, I have joined the army, and am training a band of contrabands +to fight as soon as the government comes to its senses, +and is willing for the negroes to bear their part in the battle." +</p> + +<p> +The letter ended with saying that he should never come out +of the war alive, simply because it would last until he was too +old to live any longer. +</p> + +<p> +It was a relief for Mrs. Worthington to hear from him, and +know that he probably would not trouble her again, while Adah, +whose memories of him were pleasanter, expressed a strong desire +to see him. +</p> + +<p> +"We will find him by and by, when you are mine," Irving +said playfully; then, drawing her into an adjoining room where +they could be alone, he said his parting words, and then with +Hugh went to meet the train which took him away from Snowdon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="h2HCH0049" id="h2HCH0049"></a> + CHAPTER XLIX +</h2> +<h3> + CONCLUSION +</h3> +<p> +The New England hills were tinged with that peculiar purplish +haze so common to the Indian summer time, and the warm +sunlight of November fell softly upon Snowdon, whose streets +this morning were full of eager, expectant people, all hurrying +on to the old brick church, and quickening their steps with +every stroke of the merry bell, pealing so joyfully from the tall, +dark tower. The Richards' carriage was out, and waiting before +the door of the Riverside Cottage, for the appearance of +Anna, who was this morning to venture out for a short time, +and leaving her baby Hugh alone. Another, and far handsomer +carriage, was standing before the hotel, where Hugh and +his mother were yet stopping, and where, in a pleasant private +room, Adah Richards helped Alice Johnson make her neat, +tasteful toilet, smoothing lovingly the rich folds of grayish-colored +silk, arranging the snowy cuffs and collar, and then +bringing the stylish hat of brown Neapolitan, with its pretty +face trimmings of blue, and declaring it a shame to cover up +the curls of golden hair falling so luxuriously about the face +and neck of the blushing bride. For it was Alice's wedding day, +and in the room adjoining, Hugh Worthington stood, waiting +impatiently the opening of the mysterious door which Adah +had shut against him, and wondering if, after all, it were not +a dream that the time was coming fast when neither bolts nor +locks would have a right to keep him from his wife. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed too great a joy to be true, and by way of reassuring +himself he had to look often at the crowds of people hurrying +by, and down upon old Sam, who, in full dress, with white +cotton gloves drawn awkwardly upon his cramped distorted +fingers, stood by the carriage, bowing to all who passed, himself +the very personification of perfect bliss. Sam was very happy, +inasmuch as he took upon himself the credit of having made +the match, and was never tired of relating the wondrous story +to all who would listen to it. +</p> + +<p> +"Massah Hugh de perfectest massah," he said, "and Miss +Ellis a little more so;" adding that though "Canaan was a +mighty nice place, he 'sumed he'd rather not go thar jist yet, +but live a leetle longer to see them 'joy themselves. Thar they +comes—dat's miss in gray. She knows how't orange posies and +silks and satins is proper for weddin' nights; but she's gwine +travelin', and dat's why she comed out in dat stun-color, Sam'll +be blamed if he fancies." And having thus explained Alice's +choice of dress, the old negro held the carriage door himself, +while Hugh, handing in his mother, sister and his bride, took +his seat beside them, and was driven to the church. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty minutes passed, and then the streets were filled again; +but now the people were going home, talking as they went of +the beauty of the bride and of the splendid-looking bridegroom, +who looked so fondly at her as she murmured her responses, +kissing her first himself when the ceremony was over, and letting +his arm rest for a moment around her slender form. No +one doubted its being a genuine love match, and all rejoiced in +the happiness of the newly-married pair, who, at the village +depot, were waiting for the train which would take them on +their way to Kentucky, for that was their destination. +</p> + +<p> +In the distracted condition of the country, Hugh's presence +was needed there; for, taking advantage of his absence, and +the thousand rumors afloat touching the Proclamation, one of +his negroes had already run away in company with some half +dozen of the colonel's, who, in a terrible state of excitement, +talked seriously of emigrating to Canada. Hugh's timely arrival, +however, quieted him somewhat, though he listened in +sorrow, and almost with tears, to Hugh's plan of selling the +Spring Bank farm and removing with his negroes to some New +England town, where Alice, he knew, would be happier than +she had been in Kentucky. This was one object which Hugh +had in view in going to Kentucky then, but a purchaser for +Spring Bank was not so easily found in those dark days; and +so, doing with his land the best he could, he called about him +his negroes, and giving to each his freedom, proposed that they +stay quietly where they were until spring, when he hoped to +find them all employment on the farm he went to buy in New +England. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Eunice, who understood managing blacks better than +his timid mother or his inexperienced wife, was to be his +housekeeper in that new home of his, where the colonel and +his family would always be welcome; and having thus provided +for those for whom it was his duty to care, he bade adieu to +Kentucky, and returned to Snowdon in time to join the Christmas +party at Terrace Hill, where Irving Stanley was a guest, +and where, in spite of the war clouds darkening our land, and +in spite of the sad, haunting memories of the dead, there was +much hilarity and joy—reminding the villagers of the olden +time when Terrace Hill was filled with gay revelers. Anna +Millbrook was there, more beautiful than in her girlhood, and +almost childishly fond of her missionary Charlie, who she laughingly +declared was perfectly incorrigible on the subject of surplice +and gown, adding that as the mountain would not go to +Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountain; and so she was +fast becoming an out-and-out Presbyterian of the very bluest +stripe. +</p> + +<p> +Sweet Anna! None who looked into her truthful, loving face, +or knew the beautiful consistency of her daily life, could doubt +that whether Presbyterian or Episcopal in sentiment, the heart +was right and the feet were treading the narrow path which +leadeth unto life eternal. +</p> + +<p> +It was a happy week spent at Terrace Hill; but one heart +ached to its very core when, at its close, Irving Stanley went +back to where duty called him, trusting that the God who had +succored him thus far, would shield him from future harm, and +keep him safely till the coming autumn, when, with the first +falling of the leaf, he would gather to his embrace his darling +Adah, who, with every burden lifted from her spirits, had +grown in girlish beauty until others than himself marveled at +her strange loveliness. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +On the white walls of a handsome country seat just on the +banks of the Connecticut, the light of the April sunset falls, +and the soft April wind kisses the fair cheek and lifts the +golden curls of the young mistress of Spring Bank—for so, in +memory of the olden time, have they named their new home—Hugh +and Alice, who, arm in arm, walk up and down the terraced +garden, talking softly of the way they have been led, and +gratefully ascribing all praise to Him who rules and overrules, +but does nought save good to those who love Him. +</p> + +<p> +Down in the meadow land and at the rear of the building, +dusky forms are seen—the negroes, who have come to their +Northern home, and among them the runaway, who, ashamed +of his desertion, has returned to his former master, resenting +the name of contraband, and dismissing the ultra-abolitionists +as humbugs, who deserved putting in the front of every battle. +Hugh knows it will be hard accustoming these blacks to Northern +usages and ways of doing things, but as he has their good +in view as well as his own, and as they will not leave him, he +feels sure that in time he will succeed, and cares but little for +the opinion of those who wonder what he "expects to do with +that lazy lot of niggers." +</p> + +<p> +On a rustic seat, near a rear door, white-haired old Sam is +sitting, listening intently, while dusky Mug reads to him from +the book of books, the one he prizes above all else, stopping +occasionally to expound, in his own way, some point which he +fancies may not be clear to her, likening every good man to +"Massah Hugh," and every bad one to the leader of the +"Suddern 'Federacy," whose horse he declares he held once in +"ole Virginny," telling Mug, in an aside, "how, if 'twasn't +wicked, nor agin' de scripter, he should most wish he'd put beech +nuts under Massah Jeffres' saddle, and so broke his fetched +neck, 'fore he raise sich a muss, runnin' calico so high that +Miss Ellis 'clar she couldn't 'ford it, and axin' fifteen cents for +a paltry spool of cotton." +</p> + +<p> +In the stable yard, Claib, his good-humored face all aglow +with pride, is exercising the fiery Rocket, who arches his neck +as proudly as of old, and dances mincingly around, while Lulu +leans over the gate, watching not so much him as the individual +who holds him. And now that it grows darker, and the ripple +of the river sounds more like eventide, lights gleam from the +pleasant parlor, and thither Hugh and Alice repair, still hand +in hand, still looking love into each other's eyes, but not forgetting +others in their own great happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Very pleasantly Alice smiles upon Mrs. Worthington and +Aunt Eunice sitting by the cheerful fire just kindled on the +marble hearth; and then, withdrawing her hand from Hugh's, +trips up the stairs and knocking at a door, goes in where Densie +sits, watching the daylight fade from the western sky, and +whispering to herself of the baby she could not find when she +went back to her home in the far-off city. Without turning her +head, she puts to Alice the same question she puts to every one: +</p> + +<p> +"Have you children, madam?" and when Alice answers no, +she adds: "Be thankful then, for they will never call you a +white nigger, as 'Lina did her mother. Poor 'Lina, she died, +though saying 'Our Father.' Will you say that with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Densie, it's almost time to say our evening prayer, I +came for you," Alice rejoins, and taking the crazed creature's +hand, she leads her gently down to the parlor below, where, ere +long, the blacks are all assembled, and kneeling side by side, +they follow with stammering tongues, but honest hearts, their +beloved master as he says first the prayer our Savior taught, and +then with words of thankful praise asks God to bless and keep +him and his in the days to come, even as He has blessed and +kept them in the days gone by. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAD HUGH ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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