POOR HUGH
Could Hugh have known the feelings with which Alice Johnson already
regarded him, and the opinion she had expressed to Muggins, it would
perhaps have stilled the fierce throbbings of his heart, which sent the
hot blood so swiftly through his veins, and made him from the first
delirious. They had found him in the quiet court, just after the
sunsetting, and his uncovered head was already wet with the falling dew,
and with the profuse perspiration induced by his long, heavy sleep. They
could not arouse him to a distinct consciousness as to where he was or
what had happened. He only talked of Ad and the Golden Haired, asking
that they would take him anywhere, where neither could ever see him
again. He was well known at the hotel, and measures were immediately
taken for apprising his family of the sudden illness, and for removing
him to Spring Bank as soon as possible.
Breakfast was not yet over at Spring Bank, and Aunt Eunice was just
wondering what could have become of Hugh, when from her position near
the window she discovered a horseman riding across the lawn at a rate
which betokened some important errand. Alice spied him, too, and the
same thought flashed over both herself and Aunt Eunice. "Something had
befallen Hugh."
Alice was the first upon the piazza, where she stood waiting till the
rider came up, his horse covered with foam, and himself flurried and
excited.
"Are you Miss Worthington?" he asked, doffing his soft hat, and feeling
a thrill of wonder at sight of her marvelous beauty.
"Miss Worthington is not at home," she said, going down the steps and
advancing closer to him, "but I can take your message. Is anything the
matter with Mr. Worthington?"
Aunt Eunice had now joined her, and listened breathlessly while the
young man told of Hugh's illness, which threatened to be the prevailing
fever.
"They were bringing him home," he said--"were now on the way, and he had
ridden in advance to prepare them for his coming."
Aunt Eunice seemed literally stunned and wholly incapable of action,
while the negroes howled dismally for Mas'r Hugh, who, Chloe said, was
sure to die.
"She'd felt it all along. She knew dem dogs hadn't howled for nothing,
nor them deathwatches ticked in the wall. Mas'r Hugh was gwine to die,
and all the blacks would be sold--down the river, most likely, if Harney
didn't get 'em," and crouching by the kitchen fire old Chloe bewailed
the calamity she knew was about to befall them.
Alice alone was calm and capable of action. A room must be prepared, and
somebody must direct, but to find the somebody was a most difficult
matter. Chloe couldn't, Hannah couldn't, Aunt Eunice couldn't, and
consequently it all devolved upon herself.
They carried Hugh to the room designated by Densie, and into which he
went very unwillingly.
It was not his den, he said, drawing back with a bewildered look; his
was hot, and close, and dingy, while this was nice and cool--a room such
as women had--there must be a mistake, and he begged of them to take him
away.
"No, no, my poor boy. This is right; Miss Johnson said you must come
here just because it is cool and nice. You'll get well so much faster,"
and Aunt Eunice's tears dropped on Hugh's flushed face.
"Miss Johnson!" and the wild eyes looked up eagerly at her. "Who is she?
Oh, yes, I know, I know," and a moan came from his lips as he whispered:
"Does she know I've come? Does it make her hate me worse to see me in
such a plight? Ho, Aunt Eunice, put your ear down close while I tell you
something. Ad said--you know Ad--she said I was--I was--I can't tell you
what she said for this buzzing in my head. Am I very sick, Aunt Eunice?"
and about the chin there was a quivering motion, which betokened a ray
of consciousness, as the brown eyes scanned the kind, motherly face
bending over him.
"Yes, Hugh, you are very sick," and Aunt Eunice's tears dropped upon the
face of her boy, so fearfully changed since yesterday.
He wiped them away himself, and looked inquiringly at her.
"Am I so sick that it makes you cry? Is it the fever I've got?"
"Yes, Hugh, the fever," and Aunt Eunice bowed her face upon his burning
hands.
For a moment he lay unconscious, then raising himself up, he fixed his
eyes piercingly upon her, and whispered, hoarsely:
"Aunt Eunice, I shall die! I have never been sick in my life; and the
fever goes hard with such. I shall surely die. It's been days in coming
on, and I thought to fight it off; I don't want to die. I'm not
prepared."
He was growing terribly excited now, and Aunt Eunice hailed the coming
of the doctor with delight. Hugh knew him, offering his pulse and
putting out his tongue of his own accord. The doctor counted the rapid
pulse, numbering even then 130 per minute, noted the rolling eyeballs
and the dilation of the pupils, felt the fierce throbbing of the swollen
veins upon the temple, and then gravely shook his head. Half conscious,
half delirious, Hugh watched him nervously, until the great fear at his
heart found utterance in words.
"Must I die?"
"We hope not. We'll do what we can to save you. Don't think of dying, my
boy," was the physician's reply, as he turned to Aunt Eunice, and gave
out the medicine, which must be most carefully administered.
Too much agitated to know just what he said, Aunt Eunice listened, as
one who heard not, noticing which, the doctor said:
"You are not the right one to take these directions. Is there nobody
here less nervous than yourself? Who was that young lady standing by the
door when I came in? The one in white, I mean, with such a quantity of
curls?"
"Miss Johnson--our visitor. She can't do anything," Aunt Eunice replied,
trying to compose herself enough to know what she was doing.
But the doctor thought differently. Something of a physiognomist, he had
been struck with the expression of Alice's face, and felt sure that she
would be more efficient aid than Aunt Eunice herself. "I'll speak to
her," he said, stepping to the hall. But Alice was gone. She had stood
by the sickroom door long enough to hear Hugh's impassioned words
concerning his probable death--long enough to hear him ask that she
might pray for him; and then she stole away to where no ear, save that
of God, could hear the earnest prayer that Hugh Worthington might
live--or that dying, there might be given him a space in which to grasp
the faith, without which the grave is dark indeed.
Meantime, the Hugh for whom the prayer was made had fallen into a heavy
sleep, and Aunt Eunice noiselessly left the room, meeting in the hall
with Alice, who asked permission to go in and sit by him at least until
he awoke. Aunt Eunice consented, and with noiseless footsteps Alice
advanced into the darkened room, and after standing still for a moment
to assure herself that Hugh was really sleeping, stole softly to his
bedside and bent down to look at him, starting quickly at the strong
resemblance to somebody seen before. Who was it? Where was it? she asked
herself, her brain a labyrinth of bewilderment as she tried in vain to
recall the time or place where a face like this reposing upon the pillow
before her had met her view. Suddenly she remembered Irving Stanley, and
that between him and Hugh there was a relationship, and then she knew it
was the likeness to Irving Stanley, which she so plainly traced. Alice
hardly cared to acknowledge it, but as she looked at Hugh she felt that
his was really the handsomer, the more attractive face of the two. It
certainly was, as he lay there asleep, his long eyelashes resting upon
his flushed cheek, his dark hair curling in soft rings about his high,
white brow, his rich, brown beard glistening with perspiration, and his
lips slightly apart, showing a row of even teeth.
There were others than Alice praying for Hugh that summer afternoon,
for Muggins had gone from the brook to the cornfield, startling Adah
with the story of Hugh's sickness, and then launching out into a glowing
description of the new miss, "with her white gown and curls as long as
Rocket's tail."
"She talked with God, too," she said, "like what you does, Miss Adah.
She axes Him to make Mas'r Hugh well, and He will, won't He?"
"I trust so," Adah answered, her own heart going silently up to the
Giver of life and health, asking, if it were possible, that her noble
friend might be spared.
Old Sam, too, with streaming eyes, stole out to his bethel by the
spring, and prayed for the dear "Massah Hugh" lying so still at Spring
Bank, and insensible to all the prayers going up in his behalf.
How terrible that deathlike stupor was, and the physician, when later in
the afternoon he came again, shook his head sadly.
"I'd rather see him rave till it took ten men to hold him," he said,
feeling the wiry pulse, which was now beyond his count.
"Is there nothing that will arouse him?" Alice asked, "no name of one he
loves more than another?"
The doctor answered "no; love for womankind, save as he feels it for his
mother or his sister, is unknown to Hugh Worthington."
Alice said softly, lest she should be heard:
"Hugh, shall I call Golden Haired?"
"Yes, yes, oh, yes," and the heavy lids unclosed at once, while the
eyes, in which there was no ray of consciousness, looked wistfully into
the lustrous blue orbs above him.
"Are you the Golden Haired?" and he laid his hand caressingly over the
shining tresses just within his reach.
Alice was about to reply, when an exclamation from those near the
window, and the heavy tramp of horse's feet, arrested her attention, and
drew her also to the window, just as a most beautiful gray, saddled but
riderless, came dashing over the gate, and tearing across the yard,
until he stood panting at the door. Rocket had come home for the first
time since his master had led him away!
Hearing of Hugh's illness, the old colonel had ridden over to inquire
how he was, and fearing lest it might be difficult to get Rocket away if
once he stood in the familiar yard, he had dismounted in the woods, and
fastening him to a tree, walked the remaining distance. But Rocket was
not thus to be cheated. Ever since turning into the well-remembered lane
he had seemed like a new creature, pricking up his ears, and, dancing
and curvetting daintily along, as he had been wont to do on public
occasions when Hugh was his rider instead of the fat colonel. In this
state of feeling it was quite natural that he should resent being tied
to a tree, and as if divining why it was done, he broke his halter the
moment the colonel was out of sight, and went galloping through the
woods like lightning, never for an instant slackening his speed until he
stood at Spring Bank door, calling, as well as he could call, for Hugh,
who heard and recognized that call.
Throwing his arms wildly over his head, he raised himself in bed, and
exclaimed joyfully:
"That's he! that's Rocket! I knew he'd come. I've only been waiting for
him to start on that long journey. Ho! Aunt Eunice! Pack my clothes. I'm
going away, where I shan't mortify Ad any more. Hurry up. Rocket is
growing impatient. Don't you hear him pawing the turf? I'm coming, my
boy, I'm coming!" and he attempted to leap upon the floor, but the
doctor's strong arm held him down, while Alice, whose voice alone he
heeded, strove to quiet him.
"I wouldn't go away to-day," she said soothingly. "Some other time will
do as well, and Rocket can wait."
"Will you stay with me?" Hugh asked.
"Yes, I'll stay," was Alice's reply.
"I'm glad he's roused up," the doctor said, "though I don't like the way
his fever increases," and Alice knew by the expression of his face that
there was but little hope, determining not to leave him during the
night.
Densie or Aunt Eunice might sleep on the lounge, she said, but the care,
the responsibility shall be hers. To this the doctor willingly acceded,
thinking that Hugh was safer with her than any one else. Exchanging the
white wrapper she had worn through the day for one more suitable, Alice,
after an hour's rest in her own room, returned to Hugh, who had missed
her sadly, and who knew the moment she came back to him, even though his
eyes were closed, and he seemed to be half asleep.
"Mas'r Hugh won't die," and Muuggins' faith came to the rescue, throwing
a ray of hope into the darkness. "Miss Alice axed God to spar' him, and
so did I; now He will, won't He, miss?" and she turned to Adah, who,
with Sam, had just come up to Spring Bank, and hearing voices in the
kitchen had entered there first. "Say, Miss Adah, won't God cure Mas'r
Hugh--'ca'se I axed Him oncet?"
"You must pray more than once, child; pray many, many times," was Adah's
reply; whereupon Mug looked aghast, for the idea of praying a second
time had never entered her brain.
Still, if she must, why, she must, and she stole quietly from the
kitchen. But it was now too dark to go down in the woods by the running
brook, and remembering Alice had said that God was everywhere, she first
cast around her a timid glance, as if fearful she should see Him, and
then kneeling in the grass, wet with the heavy night dew, the little
negro girl prayed again for Master Hugh, starting as she prayed at the
sound which met her ear, and which came from the spot where Rocket still
was standing by the block, waiting for his master.
Claib had offered him food and offered him drink, but both had been
refused, and opening the stable door so that he could go in whenever he
chose, Claib had left him there alone, solitary watcher of the night,
waiting for poor Hugh.
Returning to the house, Mug stole upstairs to the door of the sickroom,
where Alice was now alone with Hugh.
He was awake, and for an instant seemed to know her, for he attempted to
speak, but the rational words died on his lips, and he only moaned, as
if in distress.
"What is it?" Alice said, bending over him.
"Are you the Golden Haired?" he asked again, as her curls swept his
face.
"Who is Golden Hair?" Alice asked, and instantly the great tears
gathered in Hugh's dark eyes as he replied:
"Don't say who is she, but who was she. I've never told a living being
before. Golden Hair was a bright angel who crossed my path one day, and
then disappeared forever, leaving behind the sweetest memory a mortal
man ever possessed. She's dead, Chestnut Locks," and he twined one of
Alice's curls around his finger. "It's weak for men to cry, but I have
cried many a night for her, when the clouds were crying, too, and I
heard against my window the rain which I knew was falling upon her
little grave."
He was growing rather excited, and thinking he had talked too much,
Alice was trying to quiet him, when the door opened softly and Adah
herself came in. Bowing politely to Alice she advanced to Hugh's
bedside, and bending over him spoke his name. He knew her, and turning
to Alice said: "This is Adah; you will like each other; you are much
alike."
For an instant the two young girls gazed at each other as if trying to
account for the familiar look each saw in the other's face. Adah was the
first to remember, and when at last Hugh was asleep she unclasped from
her neck the slender chain she had worn so long, and passing the locket
to Alice, asked if she ever saw it before.
"Yes, oh, yes, it's I, it's mine, though not a very natural one. I never
knew where I lost it. Where did you find it?" and opening the other side
Alice looked to see if the lock of hair was safe.
Adah explained how it came into her possession, asking if Alice
remembered the circumstances.
"Yes, and I thought of you so often, never dreaming that we should meet
here as we have. You were so sick then, and I pitied you so much. Your
husband was gone, you said. Was it long ere he came back?"
"He never came back," and the great brown eyes filled with tears.
"Never came? Do you think him dead?"
"No, no! oh, no! He's--Oh, Miss Johnson, I'll tell you some time. Nobody
here knows but Hugh how I was deceived, but I'll tell you. I can trust
you," and Adah involuntarily laid her head in Alice's lap, sobbing
bitterly.
In the hall without there was a shuffling step which Adah knew was
Sam's, and remembering the conversation once held with him concerning
that golden locket, whose original Sam was positive he had seen, Alice
waited curious for his entrance. With hobbling steps the old man came
in, scarcely noticing either of them, so intent was he upon the figure
lying so still and helpless before him.
"Massah Hugh, my poor, dear Massah Hugh," he cried, bending over his
young master. "I wish 'twas Sam had all de pain an' all de aches you
feels. I'd b'ar it willingly, massah, I would. Dear massah, kin you hear
Sam talkin' to you?"
Sam had turned away from Hugh, and with his usual politeness was about
making his obeisance to Alice, when the words, "Your servant, miss,"
were changed into a howl of joy, and falling upon his knees, he clutched
at Alice's dress, exclaiming:
"Now de Lord be praised, I'se found her again. I'se found Miss Ellis, I
has, an' I feels like singin' 'Glory Hallelujah.' Does ye know me, lady?
Does you 'member shaky ole darky, way down in Virginny? You teached him
de way, an' he's tried to walk dar ever sence. Say, does you know ole
Sam?" and the dim eyes looked eagerly into Alice's face.
She did remember him, and for a moment seemed speechless with surprise,
then, stooping beside him, she took his shriveled hand and pressed it
between her own, asking how he came there, and if Hugh had always been
his master.
"You 'splain, Miss Adah. You speaks de dictionary better than Sam," the
old man said, and thus appealed to, Adah told what she knew of Sam's
coming into Hugh's possession.
"He buy me just for kindness, nothing else, for Sam ain't wo'th a dime,
but Massah Hugh so good. I prays for him every night, and I asks God to
bring you and him together. Miss Ellis will like Massah Hugh much, so
much, and Massah Hugh like Miss Ellis. Oh, I'se happy chile to-night. I
prays wid a big heart, 'case I sees Miss Ellis again," and in his great
joy Sam kissed the hem of Alice's dress, crouching at her feet and
regarding her with a look almost idolatrous.
They watched together that night, attending Hugh so carefully that when
the morning broke and the physician came, he pronounced the symptoms so
much better that there was much hope, he said, if the faithful nursing
were continued.