Bad Hugh

"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."

"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?"

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.

"Where does Miss Alice pray for me?" he asked, and Muggins replied: "Oh here, when she bese alone, and downstairs, and everywhere. You wants

to hear her?"

Yes, Hugh did.

"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?"

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.

"That's her'n," Muggins whispered. "Is you crazy, Mas'r Hugh?"

"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.

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.

"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.