MATTERS IN KENTUCKY
Backward now with our reader we turn, and take up the broken thread of
our story at the point where we left Adah Hastings.
It was a bitter morning in which to face the fierce north wind, and plow
one's way to the Derby cornfield, where, in a small, dilapidated
building, Aunt Eunice Reynolds, widowed sister of John Stanley, had
lived for many years, first as a pensioner upon her brother's bounty,
and next as Hugh's incumbent. At the time of her brother's death Aunt
Eunice had intended removing to Spring Bank, but when Hugh's mother
wrote, asking for a home, she at once abandoned the plan, and for two
seasons more lived alone, watching from her lonely door the tasseled
corn ripening in the August sun. Of all places in the world Hugh liked
the cottage best, particularly in summer. Few would object to it then
with its garden of gayly colored flowers, its barricades of tasseled
corn and the bubbling music of the brook, gushing from the willow spring
a few rods from the door. But in the winter people from the highway, as
they caught from across the field the gleam of Aunt Eunice's light,
pitied the lonely woman sitting there so solitary beside her wintry
fire. But Aunt Eunice asked no pity. If Hugh came once a week to spend
the night, and once a day to see her, it was all that she desired, for
Hugh was her darling, her idol, the object which kept her old heart warm
and young with human love. For him she would endure any want or
encounter any difficulty, and so it is not strange that in his dilemma
regarding Adah Hastings, he intuitively turned to her, as the one of all
others who would lend a helping hand. He had not been to see her in two
whole days, and when the gray December morning broke, and he looked out
upon the deep, untrodden snow, and then glanced across the fields to
where a wreath of smoke, even at that early hour, was rising slowly from
her chimney, he frowned impatiently, as he thought how bad the path
must be between Spring Bank and the cornfield, whither he intended
going, as he would be the first to tell what had occurred. 'Lina's
fierce opposition to and his mother's apparent shrinking from Adah had
convinced him how hopeless was the idea that she could stay at Spring
Bank with any degree of comfort to herself or quiet to him. Aunt
Eunice's house was the only refuge for Adah, and there she would be
comparatively safe from censorious remarks.
"Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these ye did it unto Me," kept
ringing in Hugh's ears, as he hastily dressed himself, striking his
benumbed fingers together, and trying hard to keep his teeth from
chattering, for Hugh was beginning his work of economy, and when at
daylight Claib came as usual to build his master's fire, he had sent him
back, saying he did not need one, and bidding him go, instead, to Mrs.
Hastings' chamber.
"Make a hot one there," he said. "Pile the coals on high, so as to heat
up quick."
As Hugh passed through the hall on his way downstairs, he could not
refrain from pausing a moment at the door of Adah's room. The fire was
burning, he knew, for he heard the kindling coals sputtering in the
flames, and that was all he heard. He would look in an instant, he said,
to see if all were well, and carefully turning the knob he entered the
chamber where the desolate Adah lay sleeping, her glossy brown hair
falling like a veil about her sweet pale face, on which the tear stains
still were visible.
As she lay with the firelight falling full upon her forehead, Hugh, too,
caught sight of the mark which had attracted 'Lina's curiosity, and
starting forward, bent down for a nearer view.
"Strange that she should have that mark. Oh Heaven!" and Hugh staggered
against the bedpost as a sudden thought flashed upon him. "Was that
polished villain who had led him into sin anything to Adaline, anything
to his mother? Poor girl, I am sorry if you, too, have been
contaminated, however slight the contamination may be," he said, softly,
glancing again at Adah, about whose lips a faint smile was playing, and
who, as he looked, murmured faintly:
"Kiss me, George, just as you used to do."
"Rascally villain!" Hugh muttered, clinching his fist involuntarily.
"You don't deserve that such as she should dream of you. I'd kiss her
myself if I was used to the business, but I should only make a bungle,
as I do with everything, and might kiss you, little shaver," and Hugh
bent over Willie.
There was something in Hugh which won his confidence at once, and
stretching-out his dimpled arms, he expressed his willingness to be
taken up. Hugh could not resist Willie's appeal, and lifting him gently
in his arms, he bore him off in triumph, the little fellow patting his
cheek, and rubbing his own against it.
"I don't know what I'll do with you, my little man," he said, as he
reached the lower hall; then suddenly turning in the direction of his
mother's room, he walked deliberately to the bedside, and ere the
half-awakened 'Lina was aware of his intention, deposited his burden
between her and his mother.
"Here, Ad, here's something that will raise you quicker than yeast," he
said, beating a hasty retreat, while the indignant young lady verified
his words by leaping half-way across the floor, her angry tones mingling
with Willie's crowing laugh, as the child took the whole for fun, meant
expressly for his benefit.
Hugh knew that Willie was safe with his mother, and hurried out to the
kitchen, where only a few of his negroes were yet stirring.
"Ho, Claib!" he called, "saddle Rocket quick and bring him to the door.
I'm going to the cornfield."
"Lor' bless you, mas'r, it's done snow higher than Rocket's head. He
never'll stand it nohow."
"Do as I bid you," was Hugh's reply, and indolent Claib went shivering
to the stable where Hugh's best horses were kept.
A whinnying sound of welcome greeted him as he entered, but was soon
succeeded by a spirited snort as he attempted to lead out a most
beautiful dapple gray, Hugh's favorite steed, his pet of pets, and the
horse most admired and coveted in all the country.
"None of yer ars," Claib said, coaxingly, as the animal threw up its
graceful neck defiantly. "You've got to git along, 'case Mas'r Hugh say
so. You knows Mas'r Hugh."
"What is it?" Hugh asked, coming out upon the stoop, and comprehending
the trouble at a glance. "Rocket, Rocket," he cried, "easy, my boy," and
in an instant Rocket's defiant attitude changed to one of perfect
obedience.
"There, my beauty," he said, as the animal continued to prance around
him, now snuffing at the snow, which he evidently did not fancy, and
then pawing at it with his forefeet. "There, my beauty, you've showed
off enough. Come, now, I've work for you to do."
Docile as a lamb when Hugh commanded, he stood quietly while Claib
equipped him for his morning's task.
"Tell mother I shan't be back to breakfast," Hugh said, as he sprang
into the saddle, and giving loose rein to Rocket went galloping through
the snow.
Under ordinary circumstances that early ride would have been vastly
exhilarating to Hugh, who enjoyed the bracing air, but there was too
much now upon his mind to admit of his enjoying anything. Thoughts of
Adah, and the increased expense her presence would necessarily bring,
flitted across his mind, while Barney's bill, put over once, and due
again ere long, sat like a nightmare on him, for he saw no way in which
to meet it. No way save one, and Rocket surely must have felt the
throbbing of Hugh's heart as that one way flashed upon him, for he gave
a kind of coaxing whine, and dashed on over the billowy drifts faster
than before.
"No, Rocket, no," and Hugh patted his glossy neck. He'd never part with
Rocket, never. He'd sell Spring Bank first with all its incumbrances.
It was now three days since Hugh had gladdened Aunt Eunice's cottage
with the sunshine of his presence, and when she awoke that morning, and
saw how high the snow was piled around her door, she said to herself,
"The boy'll be here directly to know if I'm alive," and this accounted
for the round deal table drawn so cozily before the blazing fire, and
looking so inviting with its two plates and cups, one a fancy china
affair, sacredly kept for Hugh, whose coffee always tasted better when
sipped from its gilded side, the lightest of egg bread was steaming on
the hearth, the tenderest of steak was broiling on the griddle, while
the odor of the coffee boiling on the coals came tantalizingly to Hugh's
olfactories as Aunt Eunice opened the door, saying pleasantly:
"I told 'em so. I felt it in my bones, and the breakfast is all but
ready. Put Rocket up directly, and come in to the fire."
Fastening Rocket in his accustomed place in the outer shed, Hugh stamped
the snow from his heavy boots, and then went in to Aunt Eunice's
cheerful kitchen-parlor, as she called it, where the tempting breakfast
stood upon the table.
"No coffee! What new freak is that?" and Aunt Eunice gazed at him in
astonishment as he declined the cup she had prepared with so much care,
dropping in the whitest lumps of sugar, and stirring in the thickest
cream.
It cost Hugh a terrible struggle to refuse that cup of coffee, but if he
would retrench, he must begin at once, and determining to meet it
unflinchingly he replied that "he had concluded to drink water for a
while, and see what that would do; much was said nowadays about coffee
being injurious, and he presumed it was."
"There's something on your mind," she said, observing his abstraction.
"Have you had another dunning letter, or what?"
Aunt Eunice had made a commencement, and in his usual impulsive way Hugh
began by asking if "she ever knew him tell a lie?"
No, Aunt Eunice never did. Nobody ever did, bad as some folks thought
him.
"Do they think me very bad?" and Hugh spoke so mournfully that Aunt
Eunice tried to apologize.
"She didn't mean anything, only folks sometimes said he was cross and
rough, and--and--"
"Stingy," he suggested, supplying the word she hated to say.
Yes, that was what Ellen Tiffton said, because he refused to go to the
Ladies' Fair, where he was sure to have his pockets picked. But, law,
she wasn't worth minding, if she was Colonel Tiffton's girl, and going
to have a big party one week from the next Monday. Had Hugh heard of it?
Hugh believed Ad said something about it yesterday, but he paid no
attention, for, of course, he should not go even if he were invited, as
he had nothing fit to wear.
"But why did you ask if I ever knew you tell a lie?" Aunt Eunice said,
and then in a low tone, as if afraid the walls might hear, Hugh told the
whole story of Adah.
"'Twas a mighty mean trick, I know," he said, as he saw Aunt Eunice's
look of horror when he confessed the part he had had in wronging the
poor girl, "but, Aunt Eunice, that villain coaxed me into drinking wine,
which you know I never use, and I think now he must have drugged it, for
I remember a strange feeling in my head, a feeling not like drunkenness,
for I knew perfectly well what was transpiring around me, and only felt
a don't-care-a-tive-ness which kept me silent when I should have spoken.
She has come to me at last. She believes God sent her, and if He did
He'll help me take care of her. I shall not turn her off."
"But, Hugh," and Aunt Eunice spoke earnestly, "you cannot afford the
expense. Think twice before you commit yourself."
"I have thought twice, the last time just as I did the first. Adah shall
stay, and I want you to take her. You need some one these winter nights.
There's the room you call mine. Give her that. Will you, Aunt Eunice?"
and Hugh wound his arm around Aunt Eunice's ample waist, while he
pleaded for Adah Hastings.
Aunt Eunice was soon won over, as Hugh knew she would be, and it was
settled that she should come that very day, if possible.
"Look, the sky is clearing," and he pointed to the sunshine streaming
through the window.
"We'll have her room fixed before I go," and with his own hands Hugh
split and prepared the wood which was to kindle Adah's fire, then with
Aunt Eunice's help sundry changes were made in the arrangement of the
rather meager furniture, which never seemed so meager to Hugh as when he
looked at it with Adah's eyes and wondered how she'd like it.
"Oh, I wish I were rich," he sighed mentally, and taking out his
well-worn purse he carefully counted its contents.
Aunt Eunice, who had stepped out for a moment, reappeared, bringing a
counterpane and towel, one of which was spread upon the bed, while the
other covered the old pine stand, marred and stained with ink and
tallow, the result of Hugh's own carelessness.
"What a heap of difference that table cloth and pocket handkerchief do
make," was Hugh's man-like remark, his face brightening with the
improved appearance of things, and his big heart grew warm with the
thought that he might keep his twenty-five dollars and Adah be
comfortable still.
"Ad may pick Adah's eyes out before I get home," was his laughing remark
as he vaulted into his saddle and dashed off across the fields, where,
beneath the warm Kentucky sun, the snow was already beginning to soften.
Breakfast had been rather late at Spring Bank that morning, for the
strangers had required some care, and Miss 'Lina was sipping her coffee
rather ill-naturedly when a note was handed her, and instantly her mood
was changed.
"Splendid, mother!" she exclaimed, glancing at the tiny, three-cornered
thing; "an invitation to Ellen Tiffton's party. I was half afraid she
would leave me out after Hugh's refusal to attend the Ladies' Fair, or
buy a ticket for her lottery. It was only ten dollars either, and Mr.
Harney spent all of forty, I'm sure, in the course of the evening. I
think Harney is splendid."
"Hugh had no ten dollars to spare," Mrs. Worthington said,
apologetically, "though, of course, he might have been more civil than
to tell Ellen it was a regular swindle, and the getters-up ought to be
indicted. I almost wonder at her inviting him, as she said she'd never
speak to him again."
"Invited him! Who said she had? It's only one card for me," and with a
most satisfied expression 'Lina presented the rote to her mother, whose
pale face flushed at the insult thus offered her son--an insult which
even 'Lina felt, but would not acknowledge, lest it should interfere
with her going.
"You won't go, of course," Mrs. Worthington said, quietly. "You'll
resent her slighting Hugh."
"Indeed I shan't," the young lady retorted. "I hardly think it fair in
Ellen, but I shall accept, of course, and I must go to town to-day to
see about having my pink silk fixed. I think I'll have some black lace
festooned around the skirt. How I wish I could have a new one. Do you
suppose Hugh has any money?"
"None for new dresses or lace flounces, either," Mrs. Worthington
replied, "I fancy he begins to look old and worn with this perpetual
call for money from us. We must economize."
"Never mind, when I get Bob Harney I'll pay off old scores," 'Lina said,
laughingly, as she arose from the table, and went to look over her
wardrobe.
Meanwhile Hugh had returned, meeting in the kitchen with Lulu.
"Well, Lu, what is it? What's happened?" Hugh asked, as he saw she was
full of some important matter.
In an instant the impetuous Lulu told him of the party to which he was
not invited, together with the reason why, and the word she had sent
back.
"I'll give 'em a piece of my mind!" she said, as she saw Hugh change
color. "She may have old Harney. His man John told Claib how his a
master said he meant to get me and Rocket, too, some day; me for her
waiting maid, I reckon. You won't sell me, Master High, will you?" and
Lulu's soft black eyes looked pleadingly up to Hugh.
"Never!" and Hugh's riding whip came down upon the table with a force
which made Lulu start.
Satisfied that she was safe from Ellen Tiffton's whims, Lulu darted
away, singing as she went, while Hugh entered the sitting-room, where
'Lina sat, surrounded by her party finery, and prepared to do the
amiable to the utmost.
"That really is a handsome little boy upstairs," she said, as if she
supposed it were her mother who came in; then with an affected start she
added, "Oh, it's you! I thought 'twas mother. Don't you think, Ellen has
not invited you. Mean, isn't it?"
"Ellen can do as she likes," Hugh replied, adding, as he guessed the
meaning of all that finery, "you surely are not going?"
"Why not?" and 'Lina's black eyes flashed full upon him.
"I thought perhaps you would decline for my sake," he replied.
An angry retort trembled on 'Lina's lip, but she had an object to
attain, so she restrained herself and answered that "she had thought of
it, but such a course would do no good, and she wanted to go so much,
the Tifftons were so exclusive and aristocratic."
Hugh whistled a little contemptuously, but 'Lina kept her temper, and
continued, coaxingly:
"Everybody is to be there, and after what has been said about--about--your
being rather--close, you'd like to have your sister look decent, I know;
and really, Hugh, I can't unless you give me a little money. Do, Hugh,
be good for once."
"Ad, I can't," and Hugh spoke sorrowfully, for a kind word from 'Lina
always touched his weaker side. "I would if I could, but honestly I've
only twenty-five dollars in the world, and I've thought of a new coat. I
don't like to look so shabby. It hurts me worse than it does you," and
Hugh's voice trembled as he spoke.
Any but a heart of stone would have yielded at once, but 'Lina was too
supremely selfish. Hugh had twenty-five dollars. He might give her half,
or even ten. She'd be satisfied with ten. He could soon make that up.
The negro hire came due ere long. He must have forgotten that.
No, he had not; but with the negro hire came debts, thoughts of which
gave him the old worn look his mother had observed. Only ten dollars! It
did seem hard to refuse, and if 'Lina went Hugh wished her to look well,
for underneath his apparent harshness lurked a kind of pride in his
dark sister, whose beauty was of the bold, dashing style.
"Take them," he said at last, counting out the ten with a half-regretful
sigh. "Make them go as far as you can, and, Ad, remember, don't get into
debt."
"I won't," and with a civil "Thank you," 'Lina rolled up her bills,
while Hugh sought his mother, and sitting down beside her said,
abruptly:
"Mother, are you sure that man is dead?--Ad's father I mean?"
There was a nervous start, a sudden paling of Mrs. Worthington's cheek,
and then she answered, sadly:
"I suppose so, of course. I received a paper containing a marked
announcement of his death, giving accurately his name and age. There
could be no mistake. Why do you ask that question?"
"Nothing, only I've been thinking of him this morning. There's a mark on
Adah's temple similar to Ad's, only not so plain, and I did not know but
she might possibly be related. Have you noticed it?"
"'Lina pointed it out last night, but to me it seemed a spreading vein,
nothing more. Hugh!" and Mrs. Worthington grasped his arm with a
vehemence unusual to her accustomed quiet manner, "you seem to know
Adah's later history. Do you know her earlier? Who is she? Where did she
come from?"
"I'm going to her now; will you come, too?" she said, and accordingly
both together ascended to the chamber where Adah sat before the fire
with Willie on her lap, her glossy hair, which Lulu's skillful fingers
had arranged, combed smoothly down upon her forehead, so as to hide the
mysterious mark, if mark there were, on that fair skin.
Something in the expression of her face as she turned toward Mrs.
Worthington made that lady start, while her heart throbbed with an
indefinable emotion. Who was Adah Hastings, and why was she so drawn
toward her?
Addressing to her some indifferent remark, she gradually led the
conversation backward to the subject of her early home, asking again
what she could remember, but Adah was scarcely more satisfactory than on
the previous night. Memories she had of a gentle lady, who must have
been her mother, of a lad who called her sister, and kissed her
sometimes, of a cottage with grass and flowers, and bees buzzing beneath
the trees.
"Are you faint?" Hugh asked, quickly, as his mother turned white as
ashes, and leaned against the mantel.
She did not seem to hear him, but continued questioning Adah.
"Did you say bees? Were there many?"
"Oh, yes, so many, I remember, because they stung me once," and Adah
gazed dreamily into the fire, as if listening again to the musical hum
heard in that New England home, wherever it might have been.
"Go on, what more can you recall?" Mrs. Worthington said, and Adah
replied:
"Nothing but the waterfall in the river. I remember that near our door."
During this conversation, Hugh had been standing by the table, where lay
a few articles which he supposed belonged to Adah. One of these was a
small double locket, attached to a slender chain.
"The rascal's, I presume," he said to himself, and taking it in his
hand, he touched the spring, starting quickly as the features of a
young-girl met his view. How radiantly beautiful the original of that
picture must have been, and Hugh gazed long and earnestly upon the sweet
young face, and its soft, silken curls, some shading the open brow, and
others falling low upon the uncovered neck. Adah, lifting up her head,
saw what he was doing, and said:
"Don't you think her beautiful?"
"Who is she?" Hugh asked, coming to her side, and passing her the
locket.
"I don't know," Adah replied. "She came to me one day when Willie was
only two weeks old and my heart was so heavy with pain. She had heard I
did plain sewing and wanted some for herself. She seemed to me like an
angel, and I've sometimes thought she was, for she never came again. In
stooping over me the chain must have been unclasped. I tried to find her
when I got well, but my efforts were all in vain, and so I've kept it
ever since. It was not stealing, was it?"
"Of course not," Hugh said, while Adah, opening the other side, showed
him a lock of dark brown hair, tied with a tiny ribbon, in which was
written, "_In memoriam_, Aug. 18."
As Hugh read the date his heart gave one great throb, for that was the
summer, that the month when he lost the Golden Haired. Something, too,
reminded him of the warm moonlight night, when the little snowy fingers,
over which the fierce waters were soon to beat, had strayed through his
heavy locks, which the girl had said were too long to be becoming,
playfully severing them at random, and saying "she means to keep the
fleece to fill a cushion with."
"I wonder whose it is?" Adah said; "I've thought it might have been her
mother's."
"Her lover's more likely," suggested Hugh, glancing once more at the
picture, which certainly had in it a resemblance to the Golden Haired,
save that the curls were darker, and the eyes a deeper blue.
"Will mas'r have de carriage? He say something 'bout it," Cæsar said,
just then thrusting his woolly head in at the door, and thus reminding
Hugh that Adah had yet to hear of Aunt Eunice and his plan of taking her
thither.
With a burst of tears, Adah listened to him, and then insisted upon
going away, as she had done the previous night. She had no claim on him,
and she could not be a burden.
"You, madam, think it best, I'm sure," she said, appealing to Mrs.
Worthington, whose heart yearned strangely toward the unprotected
stranger, and who answered, promptly:
"I do not, I am willing you should remain until your friends are found."
Adah offered no further remonstrance, but turning to Hugh, said,
hesitatingly:
"I may hear from my advertisement. Do you take the _Herald_?"
"Yes, though I can't say I think much of it," Hugh replied, and Adah
continued:
"Then if you ever find anything for me, you'll tell me, and I can go
away. I said, 'Direct to Adah Hastings.' Somebody will be sure to see
it. Maybe George, and then he'll know of Willie," and the white face
brightened with eager anticipation as Adah thought of George reading
that advertisement, a part of which had lighted Dr. Richards' cigar.
With a muttered invective against the "villain," Hugh left the room to
see that the carriage was ready, while his mother, following him into
the hall, offered to go herself with Adah if he liked. Glad to be
relieved, as he had business that afternoon in Versailles, and was
anxious to set off as soon as possible, Hugh accepted at once, and half
an hour later, the Spring Bank carriage drove slowly from the door,
'Lina calling after her mother to send Cæsar back immediately.