In her joy at having, as she supposed, found something tangible against her provoking brother—some weapon with which to ward off his offensive attacks upon her own deceit and want of truth—’Lina forgot that she had never seen much of him until several months after his return from New York, at which time she had become, from necessity, a member of his household and dependent upon his bounty. ’Lina was unreasonable, and without stopping to consider the effect her remarks would have upon the young girl, she was about to commence a tirade of abuse, when the mother interposed, and with an air of greater authority than she generally assumed toward her imperious daughter, bade her keep silence while she questioned the stranger, gazing wonderingly from one to the other, as if uncertain what they meant.
Mrs. Worthington had no such feelings for the girl as ’Lina entertained. If she were anything to Hugh, and the circumstances thus far favored that belief, then she was something to Hugh’s mother, and the kind heart of the matron went out toward her even more strongly than it had done at first.
“It will be easier to talk with you,” she said leaning forward, “if I knew what to call you.”
“Adah,” was the response, and the brown eyes, swimming with tears, sought the face of the questioner with a wistful eagerness.
“Adah, you say. Well, then, Adah, why have you come to my son on such a night as this, and what is he to you?”
“Are you his mother?” and Adah started up. “I did not know he had one. Oh, I’m so glad. And you’ll be kind to me, who never had a mother?”
A person who never had a mother was an anomaly to Mrs. Worthington, whose powers of comprehension were not the clearest imaginable.
“Never had a mother!” she repeated. “How can that be?”
A smile flitted for a moment across Adah’s pale face, and then she answered,
“I never knew a mother’s care, I mean. There is some mystery which I could not fathom, only sometimes there comes up visions of a cottage with water near, and there’s a lady there with voice and eyes like yours, and somebody is teaching me to walk—somebody who calls me little sister, though I’ve never seen him since. Then there is confusion, a rolling of wheels, and a hum of some great city, and that’s all I know of mother.”