Bad Hugh

"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."