"I know you won't. I honor your judgment," was Hugh's mental comment,
while Alice went on: "And what she told me of her brother was not calculated to impress me
favorably."
Nervously Hugh's hands grasped each other, and he could distinctly hear
the beating of his heart as he leaned forward so as not to lose a single
word.
"She seemed trying to prepare me for him by telling how rough he was;
how little he cared for etiquette; and how constantly he mortified her
with his uncouth manners."
Alice did not hear the sigh of pain or see the mournful look which stole
over Hugh's face. She did not even suspect his presence, and she went on
to speak of Spring Bank, wondering if Hugh would be there before his
mother returned, half hoping he would not, as she rather dreaded meeting
him, although she meant to like him if she could.
Alice's long, bright hair, was arranged at last, and the soft curls fell
about her face, giving to it the same look it had worn in childhood--the
look which was graven on Hugh's heart, as with a pencil of fire; the
look he never had forgotten through all the years which had come and
gone since first it shone on him; the look he had never hoped to see
again, so sure was he that it had long been quenched by the waters of
Lake Erie. Alice's face was turned fully toward him. Through the open
window at her back the August sunlight streamed, falling on her chestnut
hair, and tinging it with the yellow gleam which Hugh remembered so
well. For an instant the long lashes shaded the fair round cheek, and
then were uplifted, disclosing the eyes of lustrous blue, which, seen
but once, could never be mistaken, and Hugh was not mistaken. One look
of piercing scrutiny at the face unconsciously confronting him, one
mighty throb, which seemed to bear away his very life, one rapid passage
of his hand before his eyes to sweep away the mist, if mist there were,
and then Hugh knew the grave had given up its dead, mourned for so long
as only he could mourn. She was not lost. Some friendly hand had saved
her; some arm had borne her to the shore.
Golden Hair had come back to him, but, alas, prejudiced against him. She
hoped he might be gone. She would be happier if he never crossed her
path. "And I never, never will," Hugh thought, as with one farewell
glance at her dazzling beauty, he staggered noiselessly from the room,
and sought a small outer court, whose locality he knew, and where he
could be alone to think.
"Oh, Adaline," he murmured, "what made you so cruel to me? I would not
have served you so."