Bad Hugh

Dr. Richards had never enjoyed a reputation for being very devotional,

and the interval between his entrance and the commencement of the

service was passed by him in a rather scornful survey of the time-worn

house. With a sneer in his heart, he mentally compared the old-fashioned

pulpit, with its steep flight of steps and faded trimmings, with the

lofty cathedral he had been in the habit of attending in Paris, and a

feeling of disgust and contempt was creeping over him, when a soft

rustling of silk, and a consciousness of a delicate perfume, which he at

once recognized as aristocratic, warned him that somebody was coming;

somebody entirely different from the score of females who had

distributed themselves within range of his vision, their countrified

bonnets, as he termed them, trimmed outside and in without the least

regard to taste, or combination of color. But the little lady, moving so

quietly up the aisle--she was different. She was worthy of respect, and

the Paris beau felt an inclination to rise at once and acknowledge her

superior presence.

Wholly unconscious of the interest she was exciting, the lady deposited

her muff upon the cushions, and then kneeling reverently upon the

well-worn stool, covered her face with the hands which had so won the

doctor's admiration. What a little creature she was, scarcely larger

than a child twelve summers old, and how gloriously beautiful were the

curls of indescribable hue, falling in such profusion from beneath the

jaunty hat. All this Dr. Richards noted, marveling that she knelt so

long, and wondering what she could be saying.

Alice's devotion ended at last, and the view so coveted was obtained;

for in adjusting her dress Alice turned toward him, or rather toward his

mother, and the doctor drew a sudden breath as he met the brilliant

flashing of those laughing sunny blue eyes, and caught the radiant

expression of that face, slightly dimpled with a smile. Beautiful,

wondrously beautiful was Alice Johnson, and yet the features were not

wholly regular, for the piquant nose had a slight turn up, and the

forehead was not very high; but for all this, the glossy hair, the

dancing blue eyes, the apple-blossom complexion, and the rosebud mouth

made ample amends; and Dr. Richards saw no fault in that witching face,

flashing its blue eyes for an instant upon him, and then modestly

turning to the service just commencing. So absorbed was Dr. Richards as

not to notice that the strain of music filling the old church did not

come from the screeching melodeon he had so anathematized, but from an

organ as mellow and sweet in its tone as any he had heard across the

sea. He did not notice anything; and when his sister, surprised at his

sitting posture, whispered to him of her surprise, he started quickly,

and next time the congregation arose he was the first upon his feet,

mingling his voice with that of Alice Johnson and even excelling her in

the loudness of his reading!