Bad Hugh

"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?"

"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.

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.

How terrible that deathlike stupor was, and the physician, when later in

the afternoon he came again, shook his head sadly.

"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.

"Is there nothing that will arouse him?" Alice asked, "no name of one he

loves more than another?"

The doctor answered "no; love for womankind, save as he feels it for his

mother or his sister, is unknown to Hugh Worthington."

Alice said softly, lest she should be heard: "Hugh, shall I call Golden Haired?"

"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.

"Are you the Golden Haired?" and he laid his hand caressingly over the

shining tresses just within his reach.

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!

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.