Bad Hugh

"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.

"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.

"'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?"

"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.

"She was willing," she stammered, "but there was Hugh--what could they

do with him?"

"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."

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: "I won't write her a word. She don't deserve it. Inclose the amount, and

direct it, please."

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.

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.

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.

"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.