Bad Hugh

"Oh, joy, joy!" and Alice sprang at once to her feet, and hastening to

the doctor's side, said to him, authoritatively: "You hear, you understand, Adah is your wife, your very own, and you

must go back to her at once. She's in your own home as Rose Markham. She

went from here, Adah Hastings, whose husband's name was George. You do

understand me?" and Alice grew very earnest as the doctor failed to

rouse up, as she thought he ought to do.

Appealing next to Anna, she continued: "Pray, make him comprehend that his wife is at Terrace Hill."

Very gently Anna answered: "She was there, but she has gone. He knows it; I came to tell him, but

she fled immediately after recognizing my brother, and left a letter

revealing the whole."

It had come to 'Lina by this time that Dr. Richards could never be her

husband, and with a bitter cry, she covered her face with her hands, and

went shivering to the corner where Mrs. Worthington sat, as if a

mother's sympathy were needed now, and coveted as it had never been

before.

"Oh, mother," she sobbed, laying her head in Mrs. Worthington's lap, "I

wish I had never been born."

Sadly her wail of disappointment rang through the room, and then the

convict went on with his interrupted narrative.

"When the marriage was over, Mr. Hastings took his wife to another part

of the city, hiding her from his fashionable associates, staying with

her most of the time, and appearing to love her so much that I thought

it would not be long before I should venture to tell him the truth. I

went South on a little business which a companion and myself had planned

together--the very laudable business of stealing negroes from one State

and selling them in another. Some of you know that I was caught in my

traffic, and that the negro stealer Sullivan, was safely lodged in

prison, from which he was released but two days since. Fearing there

might be some mistake, I wrote from my prison home to Adah herself, but

suppose it did not reach New York till after she had left it. My poor,

dear little girl, thoughts of her have helped to make me a better man

than I ever was before. I am not perfect now, but I certainly am not as

hard, as wicked, or bad as when I first wore the felon's dress."

A casual observer would have said that Densie Densmore had heard less of

that strange story than any one else, but her hearing faculties had been

sharpened, and not a word was missed by her--not a link lost in the

entire narrative, and when the narrator expressed his love for his

daughter, she darted upon him again, shrieking wildly: "And that child whom you loved was the baby you stole, and I shall see

her again--shall hear that blessed name of mother from her own sweet

lips."