University of Virginia Library

34. CHAPTER XXXIV.
POOR 'LINA.

Drearily the morning dawned, but there were no bridal
slumbers to be broken, no bridal farewells said. There
were indeed good-byes to be spoken, for Anna was impatient
to be gone, and at an early hour she was ready to
leave the house she had entered under so unpleasant circumstances.

“I would like to see 'Lina,” she said to Alice, who carried
the request to the sick room.

But 'Lina refused. “I can't,” she said; “she hates, she
despises me, and she had reason. Tell her I was not worthy
to be her sister; tell her anything you like; but the
doctor — oh, Alice, do you think he'll come, just for a minute,
before he goes?”

It was not a pleasant thing for the doctor to meet 'Lina
now face to face, for he thought she wished to reproach him
for his treachery. But she did not — she thought only of
herself; and when at last, urged on by Anna and Alice,
he entered in to her presence, she only offered him her
hand at first without a single word. He was shocked to

find her so sick, for a few hours had worked a marvellous
change in her, and he shrank from the bright eyes fixed
so eagerly on his face.

“Oh, Dr. Richards,” she began at last, “if I loved you
less it would not be so hard to tell you what I must. I
did love you, bad as I am, but I meant to deceive you.
It was for me that Adah kept silence at Terrace Hill.
Adah, I almost hate her for having crossed my path.”

There was a fearfully vindictive gleam in the bright
eyes now, and the doctor shudderingly looked away, while
'Lina, with a softer tone continued, “You believed me rich,
and whether you loved me afterward or not, you sought
me first for my money. I kept up the delusion, for in no
other way could I have won you. Dr. Richards, if I die,
as perhaps I may, I shall have one less sin for which to
atone, if I confess to you that instead of the heiress you
imagined me to be, I had scarcely money enough to pay
my board at that hotel. Hugh, who himself is poor, furnished
what means I had, and most of my jewelry was
borrowed. Do you hear that? Do you know what you
have escaped?”

She almost shrieked at the last, for she read his feelings
in his face, and knew that he despised her.

“Go,” she continued, “find your Adah. It's nothing
but Adah now. I see her name in everything. Hugh
thinks of nothing else, and why should he? She's his sister,
and I — oh! I'm nobody but a beggarly servant's brat.
I wish I was dead! I wish I was dead, and I will be
pretty soon.”

This was their parting, and the doctor left her room a
sobered, sadder man than he had entered it. Half an hour
later, and he, with Anna, was fast nearing Versailles, where
they were joined by Mr. Millbrook, and together the three
started on their homeward route.

Rapidly the tidings flew, told in a thousand different

ways, and the neighborhood was all on fire with the
strange gossip. But little cared they at Spring Bank for
the storm outside. So fierce a one was beating at their
doors, that even the fall of Sumter failed to elicit more
than a casual remark from Hugh, who read without the
slightest emotion the President's call for 75,000 men. At
another time he might have been eager to join the fray,
and hasten to avenge the insult, for Kentucky held no
truer patriot than he, but now all his thoughts were centered
in that dark room where 'Lina raved in mad delirium,
controlled only by his or Alice's voice, and quiet
only when one of them was with her. Tenderer than a
brother was Hugh to the raving creature, staying by her
so patiently and uncomplainingly that none save Alice
ever guessed how he longed to be free and join in the
search for Adah, which had as yet proved fruitless. Night
after night, day after day, 'Lina grew worse, until at last
there was no hope, and the council of physicians summoned
to her side, said that she would die. Still she lingered
on, and the fever abated at last, the eyes were not so fearfully
bright, while the wild ravings were hushed, and 'Lina
lay quietly upon her pillow.

“Do you know me?” Alice asked, bending gently over
her, while Hugh, from the other side of the bed, leaned
eagerly forward for the reply.

“Yes, but where am I? This is not New York.
Have I — am I sick, very sick?” and 'Lina's eyes took a
terrified expression as she read the truth in Alice's face.
“I am not going to die, am I?” she continued, casting
upon Alice a look which would have wrung out the
truth, even if Alice had been disposed to withhold it,
which she was not.

“You are very sick,” she answered, “and though we
hope for the best, the doctor does not encourage us much.
Are you willing to die, 'Lina?”

Neither Hugh nor Alice ever forgot the tone of 'Lina's
voice as she replied,

“Willing? No!” or the expression of her face, as she
turned it to the wall, and motioned them to leave her.

For two days after that she neither spoke nor gave
other token of interest in any thing passing around her,
but at the expiration of that time, as Alice sat by her, she
suddenly exclaimed,

“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who
trespass against us. I wish he had said that some other
way, for if that means we can not be forgiven until we forgive
every body, there's no hope for me, for I cannot, I will
not forgive that servant for being my mother, neither will
I forgive Adah Hastings for having crossed my path. If
she had never seen the doctor I should have been his
wife, and never have know who or what I was. I hate
them both, so you need not pray for me. I heard you last
night, but it's no use. I can't forgive.”

'Lina was very much excited — so much so, indeed, that
Alice could not talk with her then; and for days this was
the burden of her remarks. She could not forgive her mother
nor Adah, and until she did, there was no use for her or
any one else to pray. But the prayers she could not say
for herself were said for her by others, while Alice omitted
no proper occasion for talking with her personally on the
subject she felt to be all important. Nor were these efforts
without their effect, for the bitter tone ceased at last,
and 'Lina became gentle as a child.

Taking Mrs. Worthington's hand one day, she said,

“I've given you little cause to love me, and I know
how glad you must be that another, and not I, is your
real daughter. I did not know what made me so bad, but
I understand it now. I saw myself so plainly in that
man's eyes; it was his nature in me which made me a
second Satan — so bad to you, so hateful to Hugh. Oh,
Hugh! the memory of what I've been to him is the hardest
part of all, for I want him to think kindly of me when
I'm gone!” and covering her face with the sheet, 'Lina

wept bitterly; while Hugh, who was standing behind her,
laid his warm hand on her head, smoothing her hair
caressingly, as he said,

“Never mind that, 'Lina; I, too, was bad to you —
provoking you purposely many times, and exposing your
weakness just to see how savage you would be. If 'Lina
can forgive me, I surely can forgive 'Lina.”

There was the sound of convulsive sobbing; and then,
uncovering her face, 'Lina raised herself up, and laying
her head on Hugh's bosom, answered through her
tears,

“I wish I had always felt as I do now. We should
have been happier together, and it would not be so great
a relief to you all to have me gone, never to come back
again. Hugh, you don't know how bad I've been. You
remember the money you sent to Adah last summer in
mother's letter. I kept the whole. I burned the letter,
and mother never saw it. I bought jewelry with Adah's
money. I did so many things, I — I — it goes from me
now. I can't remember all. Oh, must I confess the whole,
everything, before I can say, `Forgive us our trespasses?”'

“No, 'Lina. Unless you can repair some wrong, you are
not bound to tell every little thing. Confession is due to
Godalone,” Alice whispered to the agitated girl, who looked
bewildered, as she answered back, “But God knows all now,
and you do not; besides, I can't feel sorry towards Him as
I do towards others. I try and try, but the feeling is not
there,—the sorry feeling, I mean, as sorry as I want to
feel.”

“God, who knows our feebleness, accepts our purposes
to do better, and gives us strength to carry them out,”
Alice whispered, again bending over 'Lina, on whose
pallid, distressed face a ray of hope for a moment shone.

“I have good purposes,” she murmured, “but I can't, I
can't. I don't know as they are real; may be, if I get

well, they would not last, and it's all so dark, so desolate,
— nothing to make life desirable, — no home, no name, no
friends — and death is so terrible. Oh, Hugh, Hugh!
don't let me go. You are strong; you can hold me back,
even from Death himself, and I can be good to you; I can
feel on that point, and I tell you truly that, standing as I
am with the world behind and death before, I see nothing
to make life desirable, but you, Hugh, my noble, my abused
brother. To make you love me, as I hope I might, is
worth living for. You would stand by me, Hugh, — you
if no one else, and I wish I could tell you how fast the
great throbs of love keep coming to my heart. Dear
Hugh, brother Hugh, don't let me die, — hold me fast.”

With an icy shiver, she clung closer to Hugh, as if he
could indeed do battle with the king of terrors stealing
slowly into that room.

“Somebody say `Our Father,”' she whispered, “I can't
remember how it goes.”

“Do you forgive and love everybody?” Alice asked,
sighing as she saw the bitter expression flash for an instant
over the pinched features, while the white lips answered,
“Not Adah, no, not Adah.”

Alice could not pray after that, not aloud at least, and
a deep silence fell upon the group assembled around the
death-bed, while 'Lina slept quietly on Hugh's strong
arm. Gradually the hard expression on the face relaxed,
giving way to one of quiet peace, as they waited anxiously
for the close of that long sleep. It was broken at last,
but 'Lina seemed lost to all save the thoughts burning at her
breast, — thoughts which brought a quiver to her lips, and
forced out upon her brow great drops of sweat. The noonday
sun of May was shining broadly into the room, but to
'Lina it was night, and she said to Alice, now kneeling at
her side, “It's growing dark; they'll light the street
lamps pretty soon, and the band will play in the yard, but
I shall not hear them. New York and Saratoga are a

great ways off, and so is Terrace Hill. Tell Adah I do
forgive her, and I would like to see her, for she is my half
sister. The bitter is all gone. I am in charity with everybody,
everybody. May I say `Our Father' now? It
goes and comes, goes and comes, forgive our trespasses,
my trespasses; how is it, Hugh? Say it with me once,
and you, too, mother.”

Mrs. Worthington, with a low cry began with Hugh
the soothing prayer in which 'Lina joined feebly, throwing
in ejaculatory sentences of her own. “Forgive my
trespasses as I forgive those that trespass against me.
Bless Hugh, dear Hugh, noble Hugh. Forgive us our
trespasses, forgive us our trespasses, our trespasses, forgive
my trespasses, me, forgive, forgive.”

It was the last words which ever passed 'Lina's lips,
“Forgive, forgive,” and Hugh, with his ear close to the
lips, heard the faint murmur even after the hands had fallen
from his neck where, in the last struggle, they had been
clasped, and after the look which comes but once to
all had settled on her face. That was the last of 'Lina,
with that cry for pardon she passed away, and though it
was but a death-bed repentance, and she, the departed,
had much need for pardon, Alice clung to it as to a ray of
hope, knowing how tender and full of compassion was the
blessed Saviour, even to those who turn not to him until
the river of death is bearing them away. Very gently
Hugh laid the dead girl back upon the pillow, and leaving
one kiss on her white forehead, hurried away to his own
room, where, unseen by mortal eye, he could ask for knowledge
to give himself to the God who had come so near to
them.

The next day was appointed for the funeral, and just as
the sun was setting, a long procession would across the
fields, and out to the hillside, where the Spring Bank dead
were buried, and where they laid 'Lina to rest, forgetting
all her faults, and speaking only kindly words of her as

they went slowly back to the house, from which she had
gone forever.