These were not mere idle words, and the belief then expressed became

with Hugh Worthington a firm, fixed principle, which his skeptical uncle

tried in vain to eradicate. "There was a heaven, and she was there,"

comprised nearly the whole of Hugh's religious creed, if we except a

vague, misty hope, that he, too, would some day find her, how or by what

means he never seriously inquired; only this he knew, it would be

through her influence, which even now followed him everywhere, producing

its good effects. It had checked him many and many a time when his

fierce temper was in the ascendant, forcing back the harsh words he

would otherwise have spoken, and making him as gentle as a child; and

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when the temptations to which young men of his age are exposed were

spread out alluringly before him, a single thought of her was sufficient

to lead him from the forbidden ground.

Only once had he fallen, and that two years before, when, as if some

demon had possessed him, he shook off all remembrances of the past, and

yielding to the baleful fascinations of one who seemed to sway him at

will, plunged into a tide of dissipation, and lent himself at last to an

act which had since embittered every waking hour. As if all the events

of his life were crowding upon his memory this night, he thought of two

years ago, and the scene which transpired in the suburbs of New York,

whither immediately after his uncle's death he had gone upon a matter of

important business. In the gleaming fire before him there was now

another face than hers, an older, a different, though not less beautiful

face, and Hugh shuddered as he thought how it must have changed ere

this--thought of the anguish which stole into the dark, brown eyes when

first the young girl learned how cruelly she had been betrayed. Why

hadn't he saved her? What had she done to him that he should treat her

so, and where was she now? Possibly she was dead. He almost hoped she

was, for if she were, the two were then together, his golden-haired and

brown, for thus he designated the two.

Larger and fuller grew the veins upon his forehead, as memory kept thus

faithfully at work, and so absorbed was Hugh in his reverie that until

twice repeated he did not hear his mother's anxious inquiry: "What is that noise? It sounds like some one in distress."

Hugh started at last, and, after listening for a moment he, too, caught

the sound which had so alarmed his mother, and made 'Lina stop her

reading. A moaning cry, as if for help, mingled with an infant's wail,

now here, now there it seemed to be, just as the fierce north wind

shifted its course and drove first at the uncurtained window of the

sitting-room, and then at the ponderous doors of the gloomy hall.




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