University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
HUGH.

An unexpected turn in Hugh's affairs made it no longer
necessary for him to remain in the sultry climate of New
Orleans, and just one week from his mother's departure
from Spring Bank he reached it, expressing unbounded
surprise when he heard from Aunt Eunice where his
mother had gone, and how she had gone.

“Fool and his money soon parted,” Hugh said,

“But who is that woman,— the one who sent the
money?”

“A Mrs. Johnson, an old friend of your mother,”
Aunt Eunice replied, while Hugh looked up quickly,
wondering why the Johnsons should be so continually
thrust upon him, when the only Johnson for whom he
cared was dead years ago.

“And the young lady — what about her?” he asked,
while Aunt Eunice told him the little she knew, which
was that Mrs. Johnson wished her daughter to come to
Spring Bank, but she did not know what they had concluded
upon.

“That she should not come, of course,” Hugh said.
“They had no right to give her a home without my consent,
and I've plenty of young ladies at Spring Bank now.
Oh, it was such a relief when I was gone to know that in

all New Orleans there was not a single hoop annoyed on
my account. I had a glorious time doing as I pleased,”
and helping his aunt to mount the horse which had brought
her to Spring Bank, Hugh returned to the house, which
seemed rather lonely, notwithstanding that he had so often
wished he could once more be alone, just as he was
before his mother came.

On the whole, however, he enjoyed his freedom from restraint,
and very rapidly fell back into his old loose way
of living, bringing his dogs into the parlor, and making it
a repository for both his hunting and fishing apparatus.

“It's splendid to do as I'm a mind to,” he said, one hot
August morning, nearly three weeks after his mother's departure,
as with his box of worms upon the music stool,
in the little room which 'Lina claimed as exclusively her
own, he sat mending his long fish line, whistling merrily,
and occasionally thrusting back from his forehead the mass
of curling hair, which somewhat obstructed his vision.

Around him upon the floor lay half a dozen dogs, some
asleep, and others eyeing his movements curiously, as if
they knew and appreciated what he was doing.

“There isn't a finer lot of dogs in Kentucky,” soliloquized
the young man, as he ran his eye over them; “but
wouldn't my lady at Saratoga rave if she knew I'd taken
her boudoir for a kennel, and kept my bootjack, my blacking
brush, and Sunday shirts all on her piano! Good place
for them, so handy to get at, though I don't suppose it's
quite the thing to live so like a savage. Halloo, Mug, what
do you want?” he asked, as a little mulatto girl appeared
in the door.

“Claib done buy you this yer,” and the child handed
him the letter from his mother, which had been to New
Orleans was forwarded from there.

The first of it was full of affection for her boy, and Hugh
felt his heart growing very tender as he read, but when
he reached the point where poor, timid Mrs. Worthington

tried to explain about Alice, making a wretched bungle,
and showing plainly how much she was swayed by 'Lina, it
began to harden at once.

“What the plague!” he exclaimed as he read on,
“Supposes I remember having heard her speak of her old
school friend, Alice Morton? I don't remember any such
thing. Her daughter's name's Alice — Alice Johnson,”
and Hugh for an instant turned white, so powerfully that
name always affected him.

Soon rallying, however, he continued, “Heiress to fifty
thousand dollars. Unfortunate Alice Johnson! better be
lying beside the Golden Haired; but what! actually coming
to Spring Bank, a girl worth fifty thousand, the most
refined, most elegant, most beautiful creature that ever
was born, coming where I am, without my consent, too!
That's cool upon my word!” and for a moment Hugh
went off in a towering passion, declaring “he wouldn't
stand it, and bringing his foot down upon the little bare
toes of Muggins, crouched upon the floor beside him.

Her loud outcry brought him to himself, and after quieting
her as well as he could, he finished his mother's letter,
chafing terribly at the thought of a strange young lady being
thrust upon him whether he would have her or not.

“She is going to Colonel Tiffton's first, though they've
all got the typhoid fever, I hear, and that's no place for
her. That fever is terrible on Northerners — terrible on
anybody. I'm afraid of it myself, and I wish this horrid
throbbing I've felt for a few days would leave my head.
It has a fever feel that I don't like,” and the young man
pressed his hand against his temples, trying to beat back
the pain which so much annoyed him.

Just then Colonel Tiffton was announced, his face wearing
an anxious look, and his voice trembling as he told
how sick his Nell was, how sick they all were, and then
spoke of Alice Johnson.

“She's the same girl I told you about the day I bought

Rocket; some little kin to me, and that makes it queer
why her mother should leave her to you. I knew she
would not be happy at Saratoga, and so we wrote for her
to visit us. She is on the road now, will be here day after
to-morrow, and something must be done. She can't
come to us, without great inconvenience to ourselves and
serious danger to her. Hugh, my boy, there's no other
way — she must come to Spring Bank,” and the old colonel
laid his hand on that of Hugh, who looked at him
aghast, but made no immediate reply.

He saw at a glance that Alice could not go to Moss Side
with impunity, and if not there she must, of course come
to Spring Bank.

“What can I do with her? Oh, Colonel, it makes me
sweat like rain just to think of it, and my head thumps
like a mill-hopper, but, I suppose, there's no help for it.
You'll meet her at the depot. You'll give her an inkling
of what I am. You'll tell her what a savage she may expect
to find, so she won't go into fits at sight of me.”

“Yes, yes, I'll fix it; but, I thought, maybe, you'd have
Aunt Eunice come over till your mother's return. Women
are gossipping things, and they'd talk if she was to
live here alone with you. I tell you, she's handsome; and
if I's you, I'd be a little good, that is, I wouldn't walk the
lots Sundays, but go to church instead.”

“I always do, sir,” and Hugh spoke quickly, for slowly,
surely, Adah Hastings was influencing him for good,
and more changes than one were already apparent in
him.

“That's right,” rejoined the colonel. “Going to church
is well enough for them that like it, which I can't say I
do, but I'll see her, I'll meet her; I'll tell her. Good bye,
my boy. Now, I think of it, you look mighty nigh sick.
Your face is as red as a beetle, and eyes kind of blood-shot.
The very way my wife looked. Are you sick?”

“No, not sick, but this hot weather affects my head
which feels much as if there were a snare-drum inside.”

“No, that ain't the symptom. My wife's felt like a bumble-bee's
nest. You are all right if you'll take an emetic,
a good big one, such as will turn your stomach inside out.
Good bye — Nelly's awful sick. Struck to her brain last
night. Good bye. I wouldn't lose Nell for a farm, if she
is a little gritty,” and wringing Hugh's hand, the colonel
hurried off, leaving Hugh to his own reflections.

“A pretty state of things, and a pretty place to bring
a young lady,” he muttered, glancing ruefully round the
room, and ennumerating the different articles he knew
were out of place. “Fish-worms, fish-hooks, fish-lines,
boot-jack, boot-blacking, and rifle, to say nothing of the
dogs — and ME!”

The last was said in a tone as if the me were the most
objectionable part of the whole, as, indeed, Hugh thought
it was.

“I wonder how I do look to persons wholly unprejudiced!”
Hugh said, and turning to Muggins he asked what
she thought of him.

“I thinks you berry nice. I likes you berry much,” the
child replied, and Hugh continued,

“Yes; but how do I look, I mean? What do I look
like, a dandy or a scarecrow?”

Muggins regarded him for a moment curiously, and then
replied,

“I'se dunno what kind of thing that dandy is, but I
'members dat yer scarecrow what Claib make out of
mars'r's trouse's and coat, an' put up in de cherry tree.
I thinks dat look like Mas'r Hugh — yes, very much
like!”

Hugh laughed long and loud, pinching Mug's dusky
cheek, and bidding her run away.

“Pretty good,” he exclaimed, when he was left alone.
“That's Mug's opinion. Look like a scarecrow. I mean

to see for myself,” and going into the sitting-room, where
the largest mirror was hung, he scanned curiously the
figure which met his view, even taking a smaller glass,
and holding it so as to get a sight of his back. “Tall,
broad-shouldered, straight, well built. My form is well
enough,” he said. “It's the clothes that bother. I mean
to get some new ones. Then, as to my face,” and Hugh
turned himself around, “I never thought of it before;
but my features are certainly regular, teeth can't be beaten,
good brown skin, eyes to match, and a heap of curly hair.
I'll be hanged if I don't think I'm rather good-looking!”
and with his spirits proportionably raised, Hugh whistled
merrily as he went in quest of Aunt Chloe, to whom he
imparted the startling information that on the next day
but one, a young lady was coming to Spring Bank, and
that, in the meantime, the house must be cleaned from
garret to cellar, and everything put in order for the expected
guest.

With growing years, Aunt Chloe had become rather
cross and less inclined to work than formerly, frequently
sighing for the days when “Mas'r John didn't want no
clarin' up, but kep' things lyin' handy.” With her hands
on her fat hips she stood, coolly regarding Hugh, who
was evidently too much in earnest to be opposed. Alice
was coming, and the house must be put in order.

Accordingly, two hours afterwards, there was a strong
smell of soap suds arising from one room, while from
another a cloud of dust was issuing, as Hugh himself bent
over the broom, wondering where all that dirt came from,
inasmuch as his six dogs had only lain there for a few
days!

Aunt Eunice, too, was pressed into the service, and
greatly against her will, come to play the hostess for Hugh,
who drove both herself and Aunt Chloe nearly distracted
with his orders and counter orders.

Particularly was he interested in what was to be Alice's

room, sending for Adah to see if it were right, and would
be likely to strike a young lady favorably.

The cleaning and arranging was finished at last, and
everything within the house was as neat and orderly
as Aunt Eunice and Adah could make it, even Aunt Chloe
acknowledging that “things was tip-top,” but said “it
was no use settin' 'em to rights when Mas'r Hugh done
on-sot 'em so quick,” but Hugh promised to do better.
He would turn over a new leaf; so by way of commencement,
on the morning of Alice's expected arrival he
deliberately rolled up his towel and placed it under his
pillow instead of his night-shirt, which was hung conspicuously
over the wash-stand. His boots were put
behind the fireboard, his every day hat jammed into the
bandbox where 'Lina kept her winter bonnet, and then,
satisfied that so far as his room was concerned, every
thing was in order, he descended the stairs and went into
the garden to gather fresh flowers with which to adorn
Alice's room. Hugh was fond of flowers, and two
beautiful bouquets were soon arranged and placed in the
vases brought from the parlor mantel, while Muggins,
who trotted beside him, watching his movements
and sometimes making suggestions, was told to see that
they were freshly watered, and not allowed to stand
where the sun could shine on them, as they might fade
before Miss Johnson came.

“You likes her?” and Mug looked inquiringly at him.

“I never saw her,” he replied, “but I mean to like her,
yes,” and Hugh spoke the truth.

He could not account for it, but now that it came so
near, there was something enlivening in the prospect of
Alice's coming. He meant to like her — meant that she
should like him. Not as the Golden Haired might have
done had she lived, but as a friend, a sister. He'd try
his best to win her respect before 'Lina came to prejudice
her against him, if indeed she had not done so already

and a pang shot through his heart as he thought how possible
it was that Alice Johnson was prepared already to
dislike him. But no, Ad could not be so mean as that,
and Hugh went down to the breakfast which Aunt Eunice
had prepared, and of which he could scarcely taste a
morsel.

During the excitement of the last few days, the pain
in his head had in a measure been forgotten, but it had
come back this morning with redoubled force, and the
veins upon his forehead looked almost like bursting with
their pressure of feverish blood. Hugh did not think it
possible for him to be sick, and he tried hard to forget
the giddy, half blinding pain warning him of danger, and
after forcing himself to sip a little coffee in which he
would indulge this morning, he ordered Claib to bring
out the covered buggy, as he was going up to Lexington,
hoping thus to obtain a sight of Alice without being
himself seen, or at least known as Hugh Worthington.