University of Virginia Library

22. CHAPTER XXII.
WAKING TO CONSCIOUSNESS.

The warm still days of September were gone and a wild
October storm was dying out in a gentle shower, when
Hugh awoke from the sleep which had so long hung over
him, and listened, with a vague kind of delicious happiness,
to the lulling music of the rain falling so softly upon
the window sill, and sifting through the long boughs of
the trees, visible from where he lay. Gazing about him
in a maze of perplexity, he wondered what had happened,
or where he could be.

“I must have been sick,” he whispered, and pressing his
hand to his head, he tried to recall and form into some definite
shape the events which had seemed, and which seemed
to him still, like so many phantoms of the brain.

Was it a dream — his mother's tears upon his face, his
mother's sobs beside him? Was it a dream that Adah
had bent over him with words of tenderness, praying for
him that he might not die, as he was sure he had heard
her? And, — oh how Hugh started as he thought this; —
Was it, all a dream that the Golden Haired had been with
him constantly?

No, that was not a dream, and Hugh lay panting on
his pillow, as gleam after gleam flashed across his mind,
bringing remembrance of the many times when another
voice than Adah's had asked that he might live, had pleaded
as only Golden Hair could plead with God for him. She
did not hate him, else she had not prayed, and words of
thanksgiving were going up to Golden Hair's God, when
a footstep in the hall announced the approach of some one.
Alice perhaps, and Hugh lay very still, with half shut

eyes, until Muggins, instead of Alice, appeared. She had
been deputed to watch by her master while the family
were at dinner, pleased with the confidence reposed in her,
determined strictly to obey Alice's injunction to be very
quiet, and not wake him if he were sleeping.

He was asleep, she said, as, standing on tiptoe, she
scanned his face, in her own dialect, Muggins talked to
herself about him as he lay there so still, not a muscle
moving, save those about the corners of his mouth, where
a smile was struggling for life, as Hugh listened to Mug's
remarks.

“Nice Mas'r Hugh — most as white as Miss Alice. De
sweat has washed de dirt all off. Pretty Mas'r Hugh!”
and Mug's little black hand was laid caressingly on the
face she admired so much. “I mean to ask God about
him, just like I see Miss Alice do,” she continued, and
stealing to the opposite side of the room, Muggins kneeled
down, and with her face turned towards Hugh, she said,
first, the prayer taught by Alice after an immense amount
of labor and patience, after which she contiuued, “If
God is hearin' me, will he please do all dat Miss Alice ax
him 'bout curin' Mas'r Hugh, only not take him to heaven
as she say, and scuse Mug, who is nothin' but poor
little lazy nigger, all-us round under foot.”

This was too much for Hugh. The sight of that ignorant
negro child, kneeling by the window, with her
hands clasped supplicatingly together, as she prayed for
him in imitation of the Golden-Haired, unmanned him
entirely, and hiding his head beneath the sheets, he
sobbed aloud. With a nervous start, Mug arose from
her knees, and coming towards him, stood for an instant
gazing in mute terror at the trembling of the bed-clothes
which hid her master from sight.

“I'll bet he's in a fit. I mean to screech for Miss
Alice,” and Muggins was about darting away, when
Hugh's long arm caught and held her fast. “Oh, de gracious,

Mas'r Hugh,” she cried, “you skeers me so.
Does you know me, Mas'r Hugh?” and somewhat relieved
by the expression of his face, she took a step towards
him.

“Yes, I know you, and I want to talk a little. Where
am I, Mug? What room, I mean?”

“Why, Miss Alice's in course. She 'sisted, and 'sisted,
till 'em brung you in here, 'case she say it cool and nice.
Oh, Miss Alice so fine.”

“In Miss Johnson's room,” and Hugh looked perfectly
bewildered, while Mug explained how Miss Alice “had
prayed for Mas'r Hugh, and cried for Mas'r Hugh, and
she didn't know but she had actually kissed Mas'r Hugh;
any way, she got mighty clus to him sometimes.
“Where is she now?” Hugh asked, and Mug replied,
“Eatin' her dinner, she watched las' night and bimeby
she's gwine to lie down. I hearn her say so, an' old Miss
comin' to set long of you!”

Hugh felt a pang of disappointment that he should not
probably see Alice that afternoon. But she needed sleep,
he knew, and he was mentally chiding himself for his
selfishness, when his mother stepped into the room.
She looked so pale and thin that Hugh involuntarily
groaned as he thought how she had grown weary and
worn for him who had sometimes accused her of indifference.
The groan caught Mrs. Worthington's ear, and
bending over him she said,

“What is it, Hugh?” “Are you worse? Do you want
anything?”

“No, I'm better — the cobwebs are gone. I am myself
again — dear, darling mother,” and Hugh stretched his
hands towards her.

“Oh, my boy, I am so glad, so glad! God is good to
give you back, when I've never served Him all my life,
but I'm trying to now. Oh, Hugh, my heart is so full,”
and Mrs. Worthington's tears dropped fast, as like a weary

child, which wanted to be soothed, she laid her head
upon his bosom, crying quietly.

And Hugh, stronger now than she, held the poor, tired
head there, and kissed the white forehead, where there
were more wrinkles than when he last observed it.

Folding his weak arms about her, mother and son wept
together in that moment of perfect understanding and
union with each other. Hugh was the first to rally. It
seemed so pleasant to lean on him, to know that he cared
so much for her, that Mrs. Worthington would gladly have
rested on his bosom longer, but Hugh who noticed that
she held an open letter in her hand brought her back to
something of the old, sad life, by asking.

“If the letter were from 'Lina?”

“Yes, and I cant make it all out you know she writes
so blind.”

“It never troubles me, and I feel perfectly able to read
it,” Hugh said, and taking the letter from her unresisting
hand, he asked that another pillow should be placed
beneath his head, while he read it aloud.

The pillow was arranged, and then Mrs. Worthington
sat down upon the bed to hear the letter, which read as
follows:

“There then, this is what I read, lying on madam's
bed, and it decided my future course. Do you suppose
I'm going to Terrace Hill to be watched by that trio of
old maids? No, ma'am, not by a —, I was going to
say `jug full,' but remembered slang phrases just in time.
Anna would be delighted with that improvement.

“I am resolved now to win Dr. Richards at all hazards.
Only let me keep up the appearance of wealth,
and the thing is easily accomplished; but I can't go to
Terrace Hill yet, cannot meet this Anna, for, I dread her
decision more than all the rest, inasmuch as I know it
would have more weight with the doctor.

“But to come back to madam. I was fast asleep
when she returned. Had not read Anna's letter, nor anything!
You should have seen her face when I told her I
had changed my mind, that I could not go to Terrace Hill,
that mamma (that's you!) did not think it would be proper,
inasmuch as I had no claim upon them. You see, I made
her believe I had written to you on the subject, receiving
a reply that you disapproved of my going, and brother
Hugh, too, I quote him a heap, making madam laugh till
she cries with repeating his odd speeches, she does so
want to see that eccentric Hugh, she says.”

Another groan from Mrs. Worthington—something
sounding like an oath from Hugh, and he went on:

So absorbed were Hugh and his mother, as not to hear
the low howl of fear echoing through the hall, as Mug
fled in terror from the dreaded new owner to whom Master
Hugh was to sell her. Neither did they hear the catlike
tread with which Lulu glided past the door, taking
the same direction Mug had gone, namely, to Alice Johnson's
room.

Lulu had been sitting by the open window at the end
of the hall, and had heard every word of this letter, while
Mug, sent by Chloe on some errand to Mrs. Worthington,
had reached the threshold in time to hear all that was
said about selling her. Instinctively both turned for protection
to Alice, but Mug was the first to reach her.
Throwing herself upon her knees and hiding her face in
Alice's dress she sobbed frantically,

“You buys me, Miss Alice. You give Mas'r Hugh six
hundred dollars for me, so't he can get Miss 'Lina's weddin'
finery. I'll be good, I will. I'll learn de Lord's prar,
ebery word on't; will you, Miss Alice, say?”

In amazement Alice tried to wrest her muslin dress from
the child's grasp, asking what she meant.

“I know, I'll tell,” and Lulu scarcely less excited, but
more capable of restraining herself, advanced into the room,
and ere the bewildered Alice could well understand what
it all meant, or make more than a feeble attempt to stop
her, she had repeated rapidly the entire contents of 'Lina's
letter, omitting nothing of any consequence, but, as was
quite natural, dwelling longest upon the engagement, as
that was the point which particularly concerned herself
and Muggins.

Too much amazed at first to speak, Alice sat motionless,
then rallying her scattered senses, she said to Lulu,

“I am sorry that you told me this, sorry you knew it
to tell. It was wrong in you to listen, and you must not
repeat it to any one else. Will you promise?”

Lulu would do anything which Alice asked, and she
gave the required promise, then with terror in every lineament
of her face she said,

“But, Miss Alice, must I be Miss 'Lina's waiting maid?
Will Master Hugh permit it?”

Alice did not know Hugh as well as we do, and in her
heart there was a fear lest for the sake of peace he might
be overruled, resolving in her mind that Lulu and Muggins

should change owners ere the capricious 'Lina's return,
and endeavoring as far as she could to quiet both.
It was no easy task, however, to soothe Muggins,
and only Alice's direct avowal that if possible she
would herself become her purchaser, checked her cries at
all, but the moment this was said her sobbing ceased, and
Alice was able to question Lulu as to whether it was really
Hugh who had read the letter.

Lulu assured her that it was, and feeling that he must
be better, Alice dismissed both Lulu and Mug, and then
sat down to reflect as to her next best course of action.

Adah must go to Terrace Hill, and if Alice's suspicions
were correct the projected marriage would be prevented
without further interference, for Lina was not bad enough
deliberately to take for a husband one who had so cruelly
wronged another, and even if she were, Anna had power
to stop it. Adah must go, and Alice's must be the purse
which defrayed all the expense of fitting her up. If ever
Alice felt thankful to God for having made her rich in
this world's goods, it was that morning when so many
calls for money seemed crowding on her at once. Only
the previous night she had heard from Col. Tiffton that
the day was fixed for the sale of his house, that he had
no hope of redeeming it, and that Nell had nearly cried
herself into a second fever at the thoughts of leaving
Mosside. “Then there's Rocket,” the colonel had said,
“Hugh cannot buy him back, and he's so bound up in
him too, poor Hugh,” and with quivering lip the colonel
had wrung Alice's hand, hurrying off ere she had time to
suggest what all along had been in her mind.

“It does not matter,” she thought. “A surprise will
be quite as pleasant, and then Mr. Liston may object to
it as a silly girl's fancy.”

This was the previous night, and now this morning
another demand had come in the shape of Muggins weeping

in her lap, and Lulu begging to be saved from 'Lina
Worthington.

Meantime in the sick room there was a consultation
between mother and son, touching the money for which
'Lina had asked, and which Hugh declined sending to
her. She had shown herself too heartless for any
thing, he said, and were it not for Anna, who was too
good to be so terribly duped, he should be glad when
that Dr. took her off his hands; then he spoke of Alice
asking many questions concerning her, and at last expressing
a wish to see, and talk with her. This wish
Mrs. Worthington at once communicated to Alice, who
rather reluctantly went to his room, feeling that it was
to all intents and purposes her first meeting with Hugh.

“This is Miss Johnson,” Mrs. Worthington said, as
Alice drew near, a bright flush spreading over her face
as she met Hugh's look, expressive of more than gratitude.

“I fancy I am to a certain degree indebted to Miss
Johnson for my life,” Hugh said, offering her his hand,
while he thanked her for her kindness to him during the
long weeks of his illness.

“I was not wholly unconscious of your presence,” he
continued, still holding her hand. “There were moments
when I had a vague idea of somebody different from those
I have always known bending over me, and I fancied, too,
that this somebody was sent to save me from some great
evil. I am glad you were here, Miss Johnson; I shall not
forget your kindness.”

He dropped her hand then, while Alice attempted to
stammer out some reply.

“Adah, too, had been kind,” she said, “quite as kind as
herself.”

“Yes, Adah is a dear, good girl,” Hugh replied. “She
is to me all a sister could be. Do you like Adah?”

“Yes, very much.”

“I'm glad, for she is worthy of your love. She has
been terribly wronged, sometime she may tell you.”

“She has told me,” Alice replied, while Hugh continued,
“I am sure you will respect her just the same.”

Alice had not intended to talk with him of Adah then,
but he had introduced the subject and so she said to him,

“I had thought to tell you of a plan which Mrs. Hastings
has in view, but perhaps, I had better wait till you
are stronger.”

“I am strong enough now — stronger than you think.
Tell me of the plan,” and Hugh urged the request until
Alice told him of Terrace Hill and Adah's wish to go
there.

For a few minutes Hugh lay perfectly still. Once he
would have spurned the idea, for Spring Bank would be
so lonely without Adah and the little boy, but Alice was
there now; Alice was worth a dozen Adahs, and so he
said at last, “I have heard of the Richards family before.
You know the Dr. I believe. Do you like him? Is he a
man to be trusted?”

“Yes, I know Dr. Richards,” Alice replied, half resolving
to tell Hugh all she feared, but feeling that possibly
she might be wrong in her suspicious, she concluded not
to do so, Adah's presence at Terrace Hill would settle that
matter, and she asked again if he did not think it well for
her to go.

“Yes, on some accounts,” Hugh answered, thinking of
'Lina. But it looks too much like sending her out alone
into the world. Does she wish to go? Is she anxious?
Call her, please. I would hear from her what she has to
say.”

Adah came at once, advancing so many reasons why
she should go that Hugh consented at last, and it was
finally settled that she should leave as soon as the necessary
additions could be made to her own and Willie's,
wardrobe.

This being arranged, Alice and Adah withdrew, and
Hugh was left alone to think over the incidents of his
interview with Alice. He had not expected her to recognize
him by his name, because she had not learned it when
on board the steamer, neither did he really expect her to
recognize his features, for he knew he had changed materially
since that time, still he was conscious of a feeling
of disappointment that she did not remember him, and
once he thought to tell her who he was, but he would
rather she should find that out herself; and while wondering
what she would do and say when it did come to her
knowledge that he was the lad who tried to save her life,
he fell away to sleep.

Three weeks later there came another letter from 'Lina,
and with his mother sitting beside him, Hugh read it
aloud, learning “that Irving Stanley's widowed sister, Mrs.
Carrie Ellsworth, was in New York and had come to the
hotel with her brother, that having an object in view 'Lina
had done her best to cultivate Mrs. Ellsworth, presuming
a great deal on their relationship, and making herself so
agreeable to her child, a most ugly piece of deformity,
that cousin Carrie, who had hired a furnished house for
the winter, had invited her to spend the season with her,
and she was now snugly ensconced in most delightful
quarters on Twenty-second street, between Fifth and Sixth
avenues. Sometimes,” she wrote, “I half suspect Mrs
Ellsworth did not think I would jump at her invitation so
quick, but I don't care. The doctor, for some reason or
other, has deferred our marriage until spring, and dear
knows I am not coming to Spring Bank any sooner than
I can help. The doctor, of course, would insist upon accompanying
me, and that would explode my bubble at
once. When I am ready to return, Hugh must do the
brotherly, and come for me, so that the first inkling the
doctor gets of Spring Bank will be when he comes to
have tied the nuptial knot. I'm half sorry to think how

disappointed he will be, for I begin to like him, and mean
to make up in goodness what I lack in gold.

“By the way, Adah must not go to Terrace Hill as
you wrote she thought of doing. You are crazy to think of
it, of course they would quiz her to death about me and
Spring Bank. So tie her up, or throttle her, or do something
if she persists in going.

“I shall buy my bridal trousseau under Mrs. Ellsworth's
supervision. She has exquisite taste, and Hugh must
send the money. As I told him before, he can sell Mug.
Harney will buy her. He likes pretty darkies.”

“Oh, horror! can Ad be a woman, with womanly feelings!”
Hugh exclaimed, as he deliberately tore the letter
in fragments, and scattered them over the floor, feeling
for a moment as if he hated his sister.

But he struggled hard to cast the bitterness away, and
after a moment was able to listen and answer calmly,
while his mother asked if it would not be better to persuade
Adah not to go to Terrace Hill.

“It may interfere with 'Lina's plans,” she said, “and
now it's gone so far, it seems a pity to have it broken up.
I know it is not right to deceive him so, but — but — I
don't know what. It's — it's very pleasant with 'Lina
gone,” and with a choking sob, Mrs. Worthington laid
her face upon the pillow, ashamed and sorry that the
real sentiments of her heart were thus laid bare.

It was terrible for a mother to feel that her home
would be happier for the absence of an only daughter,
but she did feel so, and it made her half willing that Dr.
Richards should be deceived. But Hugh shrank from
the dishonorable proceeding. He would not interfere
himself, but if Adah could be the agent through whose
instrumentality the fraud was prevented, he would be
glad, and he answered decidedly that “She must go.”

Mrs. Worthington always yielded to Hugh, and she
did so now, mentally resolving, however, to say a few

words to Adah, relative to her not divulging anything
which could possibly harm 'Lina, such as telling how
poor they were, or anything like that. This done, Mrs.
Worthington felt easier, and as Hugh looked tired and
worried, she left him for a time, having first called Muggins
to gather up the fragments of 'Lina's letter which
Hugh had thrown upon the carpet.

“Yes, burn every trace of it,” Hugh said, watching the
child as she picked up piece by piece, and threw them
into the grate.

“I means to save dat ar. I'll play I has a letter for
Miss Alice,” Mug thought, as she came upon a bit larger
than the others, and when she left the room there was
hidden in her bosom that part of 'Lina's letter relating
to herself and Harney.