Bad Hugh

It was a sad morning at Spring Bank, that morning of Adah's leaving, and

many a tear was shed as the last good-by was spoken. Mrs. Worthington,

Alice and Hugh accompanied Adah to Frankfort, and Alice had never seemed

in better spirits than on that winter's morning. She would be gay; it

was a duty she owed Hugh, and Adah, too. So she talked and laughed as if

there was no load upon her heart, and no cloud on Adah's spirits.

Outwardly Mrs. Worthington suffered most, wondering why she should cling

so to Adah, and why this parting was so painful. All the farewell words

had been spoken, for Adah would not leave them to the chance of a last

moment. She seemed almost too pretty to send on that long journey alone,

and Hugh felt that he might be doing wrong in suffering her to depart

without an escort. But Adah only laughed at his fears. Willie was her

protector, she said, and then, as the train came up she turned to Mrs.

Worthington, who, haunted with the dread lest something should happen to

prevent 'Lina's marriage, said softly: "You'll be careful about 'Lina?"

Yes, Adah would be careful, and to Alice she whispered: "I'll write after I get there, but you must not answer it at least not

till I say you may. Good-by."

* * * * *

"Come, mother, we are waiting for you," Hugh said.

At the sound of Hugh's voice she started and replied: "Oh, yes, I remember--we are to visit the penitentiary. Dear me," and in

a kind of absent way, Mrs. Worthington took Hugh's arm, and the party

proceeded on their way to the huge building known as the Frankfort

Penitentiary. Hugh was well acquainted with the keeper, who admitted

them cheerfully, and ushered them at once into the spacious yard.

Pleased with Alice's enthusiastic interest in everything he said, the

keeper was quite communicative, pointing out the cells of any noted

felons, repeating little incidents of daring attempts to escape, and

making the visit far more entertaining than the party had expected.

"This," he said, opening a narrow door, "this belongs to the negro

stealer, Sullivan. You know him, Mrs. Worthington. He ran off the old

darky you now own, old Sam, I mean."

"I'd like to see Mr. Sullivan," Alice said. "I saw old Sam when he was

in Virginia."

"We'll find him on the ropewalk. We put our hardest customers there. Not

that he gives us trouble, for he does not, and I rather like the chap,

but we have a spite against these Yankee negro stealers," was the

keeper's reply, as he led the way to the long low room, where groups of

men walked up and down--up and down--holding the long line of hemp,

which, as far as they were concerned, would never come to an end until

the day of their release.