Bad Hugh

Adah knew that he was gone, that she should not see him again, and that,

at the very last, there had arisen some misunderstanding, she hardly

knew what, for the shock of finding who he was had prevented her from

fully comprehending the fact that he had asked her for her husband. She

never dreamed of the suspicion which, for an instant, had a lodgment in

his breast, or she would almost have died where she stood, gazing at the

door through which he had disappeared.

"I ought to have told him my name, but I could not," she sighed, as the

sound of his rapid footsteps died upon the stairs.

They ceased at last, and with a feeling of utter desolation, as if she

were now indeed alone, Adah sank upon her knees, and covering her face

with her hands, wept bitterly. Anon, however, holier, calmer feelings

swept over her. She was not alone. They who love God can never be alone,

however black the darkness be around them. And Adah did love Him,

thanking Him at last for raising her up this friend in her sore need,

for putting it into Irving Stanley's heart to care for her, a stranger,

as he had done. And as she prayed, the wish arose that George had been,

more like him. He would not then have deserted her, she sobbed, while

again her lips breathed a prayer for Irving Stanley, thoughts of whom

even then made her once broken heart beat as she had never expected it

to beat again.

So absorbed was Adah that she did not hear the returning footsteps as

Irving came across the hall. He had remembered some directions he would

give her, and at the risk of being left, had come back a moment. She did

not hear the turning of the knob, the opening of the door, or know that

he for whom she prayed was standing so near to her that he heard

distinctly what she said, kneeling there by the chair where he had sat,

her fair head bent down and her face concealed from view.

"God in heaven bless and keep the noble Irving Stanley."

* * * * *

In the office below, Dr. Richards, who had purposely stopped for the day

in Albany, smoked his expensive cigars, ordered oysters and wine sent to

his room--the very one adjoining Adah's--made two or three calls, wrote

an explanatory note to 'Lina--feeling half tempted to leave out the

"Dear," with which he felt constrained to preface it--thought again of

Lily--poor Lily, as he always called her--thought once of the strange

woman and the little boy, in whom Irving Stanley had been so interested,

wondered where they were going, and who it was the boy looked a little

like--thought somehow of Anna in connection with that boy; and then,

late in the afternoon, sauntered down to the Boston depot, and took his

seat in the car, which, at about ten o'clock that night would deposit

him at Snowdon. There were no "squalling brats" to disturb him, for

Adah, unconscious of his proximity, was in the rear car--pale, weary,

and nervous with the dread which her near approach to Terrace Hill

inspired. What, if after all, Anna, should not want her? And this was a

possible contingency, notwithstanding Alice had been no sanguine.