"I am glad you have come. I wish to talk with you," he said, drawing her
down into a chair beside him, and placing his arm lightly across its
back. "What sent you here, Alice? I supposed you had retired," he
continued, bending upon her a look which made her slightly
uncomfortable.
But she soon recovered, and answered laughingly: "I, too, supposed you had retired. I came for my scissors, and finding
you here alone, thought I would startle you, but you have not told me
yet of what you were thinking."
"Of the present, past and future," he replied; then, letting his hand
drop from the back of the chair upon her shoulder, he continued: "May I
talk freely with you? May I tell you of myself, what I was, what I am,
what I hope to be?"
Her cheeks burned dreadfully, and her voice was not quite steady, as,
rising from her seat, she said: "I like a stool better than this chair. I'll bring it and sit at your
feet. There, now I am ready," and seating herself at a safe distance
from him, Alice waited for him to commence.
She grew tired of waiting, and turning her lustrous eyes upon him, said
gently: "You seem unhappy about something. Is it because Adah leaves to-morrow?
I am sorry, too; sorry for me, sorry for you; but, Hugh, I will do what
I can to fill her place. I will be the sister you need so much. Don't
look so wretched; it makes me feel badly to see you."
Alice's sympathy was getting the better of her again, and she moved her
stool a little nearer to Hugh, while she involuntarily laid her hand
upon his knee. That decided him; and while his heart throbbed almost to
bursting, he began by saying: "I am in rather a gloomy mood to-night, I'll admit. I do feel Adah's
leaving us very much; but that is not all. I have wished to talk with
you a long time--wished to tell you how I feel. May I, Alice?--may I
open to you my whole heart, and show you what is there?"
For a moment Alice felt a thrill of fear--a dread of what the opening
of his heart to her might disclose. Then she remembered Golden Hair,
whose name she had never heard him breathe, save as it passed his
delirious lips. It was of her he would talk; he would tell her of that
hidden love whose existence she felt sure was not known at Spring Bank.
Alice would rather not have had this confidence, for the deep love-life
of such as Hugh Worthington seemed to her a sacred thing; but he looked
so white, so careworn, so much as if it would be a relief, that Alice
answered at last: "Yes, Hugh, you may tell, and I will listen."