MEETING OF ALICE AND HUGH
Could 'Lina have seen Hugh that morning as he emerged from a fashionable
tailor's shop, she would scarcely have recognized him. The hour passed
rapidly away, and its close found Hugh waiting at the terminus of the
Lexington and Cincinnati Railroad. He did not have to wait there long
ere a wreath of smoke in the distance heralded the approach of the
train, and in a moment the broad platform was swarming with passengers,
conspicuous among whom were an old lady and a young, both entire
strangers, as was evinced by their anxiety to know where to go.
"There are ours," the young lady said, pointing to a huge pile of
trunks, distinctly marked "A.J.," as she held out her checks in her
ungloved hand.
Hugh noticed the hand, saw that it was very small and white and fat, but
the face he could not see, and he looked in vain for the magnificent
hair about which even his mother had waxed eloquent, and which was now
put plainly back, so that not a vestige of it was visible. Still Hugh
felt sure that this was Alice Johnson, so sure that when he had
ascertained the hotel where she would wait for the Frankfort train, he
followed on, and entering the back parlor, the door of which was partly
closed, sat down as if he, too, were a traveler, waiting for the train.
Meantime, in the room adjoining, Alice, for it was she, divested herself
of her dusty wrappings, and taking out her combs and brushes, began to
arrange her hair, talking the while to Densie, reclining on the sofa.
It would seem that Alice's own luxuriant tresses suggested her first
remark, for she said to Densie: "That Miss Worthington has beautiful
hair, so black, so glossy, and so wavy, too. I wonder she never curls
it. It looks as if she might."
Densie did not know. It had struck her as singular taste, unless it were
done to conceal a scar, or something of that kind.
"I did not like that girl," she said, "and still she interested me more
than any person I ever met. I never went near her without experiencing a
strange sensation, neither could I keep from watching her continually,
although I knew as well as you that it annoyed her, Alice," and Densie
lowered her voice almost to a whisper, "I cannot account for it, but I
had queer fancies about that girl. Try now and bring her distinctly to
your mind. Did you ever see any one whom she resembled; any other eyes
like hers?" and Densie's own fierce, wild orbs flashed inquiringly upon
Alice, who could not remember a face like 'Lina Worthington's.
"I did not like her eyes much," she said; "they were too intensely
black, too much like coals of fire, when they flashed angrily on that
poor Lulu, who evidently was not well posted in the duties of a waiting
maid, auntie," and Alice's voice was lowered, too. "If mother had not so
decided, I should shrink from being an inmate of Mrs. Washington's
family. I like her very much, but 'Lina--I am afraid I shall not get on
with her:"
"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."
There was a roll of wheels before the door, and Hugh knew by the sound
that it was the carriage for the cars. She was going. They would never
meet again, Hugh said, and she would never know that the youth who saved
her life was the same for whose coming they would wait and watch in vain
at Spring Bank--the Hugh for whom his mother would weep a while; and for
whose dark fate even Ad might feel a little sorry. She was not wholly
depraved--she had some sisterly feeling, and his loss would waken it to
life. They would appreciate him after he was gone, and the poor heart
which had known so little love throbbed joyfully, as Hugh thought of
being loved at last even by the selfish 'Lina.
Meantime Alice and Densie proceeded on their way to the Big Spring
station, where Colonel Tiffton was waiting for them, according to his
promise. There was a shadow in the colonel's good-humored face, and a
shadow in his heart. His idol, Nellie, was very, very sick, while added
to this was the terrible certainty that he and he alone must pay that
$10,000 note on which he had foolishly put his name, because Harney had
preferred it. He was talking with Harney when the cars came up, and the
villain, while expressing regret that the colonel should be compelled to
pay so much for what he never received, had said, with a relentless
smile: "But it's not my fault, you know. I can't afford to lose it."
From that moment the colonel felt he was a ruined man, but he would not
allow himself to appear at all discomposed.
"Wait a while," he said; "do nothing till my Nell lives or dies," and
with a sigh as he thought how much dearer to him was his youngest
daughter than all the farms in Woodford, he went forward to meet Alice,
just appearing upon the platform.
The colonel explained to Alice why she must go to Spring Bank, adding,
by way of consolation, that she would not be quite as lonely now Hugh
was at home.
"Hugh at home!" and Alice shrank back in dismay, feeling for a moment
that she could not go there.
But there was no alternative, and after a few tears, which, she could
not repress, she said, timidly:
"What is this Hugh? What kind of a man, I mean?"
She could not expect the colonel to say anything bad of him, but she was
not prepared for his frank response.
"The likeliest chap in Kentucky. Nothing dandified about him, to be
sure. Wears his trouser legs in his boots as often as any way, and don't
stand about the very latest cut of his coat, but he's got a heart bigger
than an ox--yes, big as ten oxen! I'd trust him with my life, and know
it was just as safe as his own. You'll like Hugh--Nell does."
The colonel never dreamed of the comfort his words gave Alice, or how
they changed her feelings with regard to one whom she had so dreaded to
meet.
"There 'tis; we're almost there," the colonel said at last, as they
turned off from the highway, and leaning forward Alice caught sight of
the roofs and dilapidated chimneys of Spring Bank. "'Taint quite as
fixey as Yankee houses, that's a fact, but we that own niggers never do
have things so smarted up," the colonel said, guessing how the contrast
must affect Alice, who felt so desolate and homesick as she drew up in
front of what, for a time at least, was to be her home.
"Where is Hugh?" Alice asked.
Aunt Eunice would not say he had gone to Lexington for the sake,
perhaps, of seeing her, so she replied:
"He went to town this morning, but he'll be back pretty soon. He has
done his best to make it pleasant for you, and I do believe he doted on
your coming after he got a little used to thinking about it. You'll like
Hugh when you get accustomed to him. There, try to go to sleep," and
kind Aunt Eunice bustled from the room just as poor Densie, who had been
entirely overlooked, entered it, together with Aunt Chloe. The old
negress was evidently playing the hostess to Densie, for she was talking
quite loud, and all about "Mas'r Hugh." "Pity he wasn't thar, 'twould
seem so different; 'tain't de same house without him. You'll like Mas'r
Hugh," and she, too, glided from the room.
Was this the password at Spring Bank, "You'll like Mas'r Hugh?" It would
seem so, for when at last Hannah brought up the waffles and tea, which
Aunt Eunice had prepared, she set down her tray, and after a few
inquiries concerning Alice's head, which was now aching sadly, she, too,
launched forth into a panegyric on Mas'r Hugh, ending, as the rest had
done, "You'll like Mas'r Hugh."