Hugh made her no reply, and they proceeded on in silence, until they came in sight of Spring Bank, when ’Lina broke out afresh, “Such a tumble-down shanty as that! It was not fit for decent people to live in, and mercy knew she was glad her sojourn there was to be short.”
“You are not alone in that feeling,” came dryly from Hugh, who could not forbear that remark.
’Lina said he was a very affectionate brother; that she was glad there were those who appreciated her, even if he did not, and then the carriage stopped at Spring Bank, where the family stood waiting for her upon the long piazza. Mrs. Worthington was hearty in her welcome, for her mother heart went out warmly towards her daughter, who, as bride-elect of a Richards, was, in her estimation, a creature of more importance than plain ’Lina had been, with nothing in prospect. Oh, what airs ’Lina did put on, and what pains she took to appear cityfied, merely noticing the expectant negroes with a “how dye,” offering the tips of her fingers to good Aunt Eunice, trying to patronize Alice herself, and only noticing Densie Densmore with a haughty stare.
“Upon my word,” ’Lina began, as she entered the pleasant parlor, “this is better than I expected. Somebody has been very kind for my sake. Miss Johnson, I am sure it’s you I have to thank,” and with a little flush of gratitude she turned to Alice, who replied in a low tone, “Thank your brother. He made a sacrifice for the sake of surprising you.”
Whether it was a desire to appear amiable in Alice’s eyes, or because she really was touched with Hugh’s generosity, ’Lina involuntarily threw her arm around his neck, and gave to him a kiss which he remembered for a long, long time.
Swiftly the days went by, bringing callers to see ’Lina, Ellen Tiffton, who received back her jewelry, and who was to be bridesmaid, inasmuch as Alice preferred to be more at liberty, and see that matters went on properly. This brought Ellen often to Spring Bank, and as ’Lina was much with her, Alice was left more time to think. Adah’s continued silence with regard to Dr. Richards had troubled her at first, but now she felt relieved. ’Lina had stated distinctly that ere coming to Kentucky he was going to Terrace Hill, and Adah’s last letter had said the same. She would see him then, and—if he were George—alas, for the unsuspecting girl who fluttered gaily in the midst of her bridal finery, and wished the time would come when “she could escape from that hole, and go back to dear, delightful Fifth Avenue Hotel.”
The time which hung so heavily upon her hands was flying rapidly, and at last only a week intervened ere the eventful day. Hugh had gone down to Frankfort on an errand to the dressmaker’s for ’Lina, and finding that he must wait some time, it occurred to him to visit the Penitentiary, where he had not been for a long time. The keeper, a personal friend of Hugh’s, expressed much pleasure at meeting him, and after a moment, said laughingly,
“We have no lions to show just now, unless it be Sullivan, the negro stealer. You have never seen him, I think, since he was sent to us. You know whom I mean, the man who ran off Uncle Sam.”
Yes, Hugh knew, but he was not especially interested in him. Still he followed the keeper, who said that Sullivan’s time expired in a few days.
“We’ll find him on the rope-walk,” he continued. “We put our hardest customers there. Not that he gives us trouble, for he does not, and I rather like the chap, but we have a spite against these Yankee negro-stealers,” and he led the way to the long low room, where groups of men walked up and down—up and down—holding the long line of hemp, which, as far as they were concerned, would never come to an end until the day of their release.