Bad Hugh

There was the sound of convulsive sobbing; and then, uncovering her

face, 'Lina raised herself up, and laying her hand on Hugh's bosom,

answered through her tears: "I wish I had always felt as I do now. Hugh, you don't know how bad I've

been. Why, I used to be ashamed to call you brother, if any fine people

were near."

There was a sparkle of indignation in Alice's blue eyes.

"You have no cause to be ashamed of Hugh," she said, quickly, the tone

of her voice coming like a revelation to 'Lina, who scanned her face

eagerly, and then, turning, looked curiously up to Hugh.

"I'm glad, I'm glad," she whispered, "for I know now you are worthy even

of her."

"You are mistaken, 'Lina," Hugh said, huskily, while 'Lina continued;

"And, Hugh, I must tell you more, how bad I've been. You remember the

money you sent to Adah last summer in mother's letter. I kept the whole.

I burned the letter, and mother never saw it. I bought jewelry with

Adah's money. I did so many things, I--I--it goes from me now. I can't

remember all. Oh, must I confess the whole, everything, before I can

say, 'Forgive us our trespasses?'"

"No, 'Lina. Unless you can repair some wrong, you are not bound to tell

every little thing. Confession is due to God alone," Alice whispered to

the agitated girl, who looked bewildered, as she answered back: "But

God knows all now, and you do not; besides, I can't feel sorry toward

Him as I do toward others. I try and try, but the feeling is not

there--the sorry feeling, I mean, as sorry as I want to feel."

"God, who knows our feebleness, accepts our purposes to do better, and

gives us strength to carry them out," Alice whispered, again bending

over 'Lina, on whose pallid, distressed face a ray of hope for a moment

shone.

"I have good purposes," she murmured; "but I can't, I can't. I don't

know as they are real; maybe, if I get well, they would not last, and

it's all so dark, so desolate--nothing to make life desirable--no home,

no name, no friends--and death is so terrible. Oh, Hugh, Hugh! don't let

me go. You are strong; you can hold me back, even from Death himself;

and I can be good to you; I can feel on that point, and I tell you truly

that, standing as I am with the world behind and death before, I see

nothing to make life desirable, but you, Hugh, my noble, my abused

brother. To make you love me, as I hope I might, is worth living for.

You would stand by me, Hugh--you, if no one else, and I wish I could

tell you how fast the great throbs of love keep coming to my heart. Dear

Hugh, Hugh, Brother Hugh, don't let me die--hold me fast."