“Let them talk,” Hugh growled. “It cannot be much worse than it is now. Nobody cares for Hugh Worthington; and why should they, when his own mother and sister are against him, in actions if not in words?—one sighing when his name is mentioned, as if he really were the most provoking son that ever was born, and the other openly berating him as a monster, a clown, a savage, a scarecrow, and all that. I tell you, mother, there is but little to encourage me in the kind of life I’m leading. Neither you nor Ad have tried to make anything of me or have done me any good; but somehow, I feel as if she would,” and he pointed to the now sleeping Adah. “At all events, I know it’s right to keep her, and I want you to help me, will you? That is, will you be kind to her; and when folks speak against her, as they may, will you stand for her as for your own daughter? She’s more like you than Ad,” and Hugh gazed wonderingly from one to the other, struck, for the first time, with a resemblance, fancied or real, between the two.
Mrs. Worthington did not heed this last, so intent was she on the first of Hugh’s remarks. Choking with tears she said,
“You wrong me, Hugh; I do try to make something of you. You are a dear child to me, dearer than the other; but I’m a weak woman, and ’Lina sways me at will.”
A kind word unmanned Hugh at once, and kneeling by his mother, he put his arms around her, and begging forgiveness for his harsh words, asked again a mother’s care for Adah.
“Hugh,” and Mrs. Worthington looked him steadily in the face, “is Adah your wife, or Willie your child?”
“Great guns, mother!” and Hugh started to his feet as quick as if a bombshell had exploded at his side. “No by all that’s sacred, no! Upon my word; you look sorry instead of glad! Are you sorry, mother, to find me better than you imagined it possible for a bad boy like me to be?”
“No, Hugh, not sorry. I was only thinking that I’ve sometimes fancied that, as a married man, you might be happier; and when this woman came so strangely, and you seemed so interested, I didn’t know, I rather thought——”
“I know,” and Hugh interrupted her. “You thought maybe, I raised Ned when I was in New York; and, as a proof of said resurrection, Mrs. Ned and Ned junior, had come with their baggage. But it is not so, she does not belong to me,” and going up to his mother he told her all he knew of Adah, adding, “Now will you be kind to her for my sake? and when Ad rides her highest horse, as she is sure to do, will you smooth her down? Tell her Adah has as good right here as she, if I choose to keep her.”
There was a faint remonstrance on Mrs. Worthington’s part, her argument being based upon what folks would say, and Hugh’s inability to take care of many more.
Hugh did not care a picayune for folks, and as for Adah, if his mother did not wish her there, and he presumed she did not, he’d get her boarded for the present with Aunt Eunice, who, like himself, was invincible to public opinion, she needed just such a companion. She’d be a mother to Adah, and Adah a daughter to her, so they needn’t spend further time in talking, for he was getting tired.