Bad Hugh

"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.

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: "No, no; mother, no."

"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: "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."

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.

"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."

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.

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.