Bad Hugh
Page 10Unmindful 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.
"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,
"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?"
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
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.
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.
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
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.