Bad Hugh

Could 'Lina have seen Hugh that morning as he emerged from a fashionable

tailor's shop, she would scarcely have recognized him. The hour passed

rapidly away, and its close found Hugh waiting at the terminus of the

Lexington and Cincinnati Railroad. He did not have to wait there long

ere a wreath of smoke in the distance heralded the approach of the

train, and in a moment the broad platform was swarming with passengers,

conspicuous among whom were an old lady and a young, both entire

strangers, as was evinced by their anxiety to know where to go.

"There are ours," the young lady said, pointing to a huge pile of

trunks, distinctly marked "A.J.," as she held out her checks in her

ungloved hand.

Hugh noticed the hand, saw that it was very small and white and fat, but

the face he could not see, and he looked in vain for the magnificent

hair about which even his mother had waxed eloquent, and which was now

put plainly back, so that not a vestige of it was visible. Still Hugh

felt sure that this was Alice Johnson, so sure that when he had

ascertained the hotel where she would wait for the Frankfort train, he

followed on, and entering the back parlor, the door of which was partly

closed, sat down as if he, too, were a traveler, waiting for the train.

Meantime, in the room adjoining, Alice, for it was she, divested herself

of her dusty wrappings, and taking out her combs and brushes, began to

arrange her hair, talking the while to Densie, reclining on the sofa.

It would seem that Alice's own luxuriant tresses suggested her first

remark, for she said to Densie: "That Miss Worthington has beautiful

hair, so black, so glossy, and so wavy, too. I wonder she never curls

it. It looks as if she might."

Densie did not know. It had struck her as singular taste, unless it were

done to conceal a scar, or something of that kind.

"I did not like that girl," she said, "and still she interested me more

than any person I ever met. I never went near her without experiencing a

strange sensation, neither could I keep from watching her continually,

although I knew as well as you that it annoyed her, Alice," and Densie

lowered her voice almost to a whisper, "I cannot account for it, but I

had queer fancies about that girl. Try now and bring her distinctly to

your mind. Did you ever see any one whom she resembled; any other eyes

like hers?" and Densie's own fierce, wild orbs flashed inquiringly upon

Alice, who could not remember a face like 'Lina Worthington's.

"I did not like her eyes much," she said; "they were too intensely

black, too much like coals of fire, when they flashed angrily on that

poor Lulu, who evidently was not well posted in the duties of a waiting

maid, auntie," and Alice's voice was lowered, too. "If mother had not so

decided, I should shrink from being an inmate of Mrs. Washington's

family. I like her very much, but 'Lina--I am afraid I shall not get on

with her:"