“Yes, Adah, I believe,” Hugh answered, half jestingly, “but it’s such as you that make me believe, and as persons of your creed think everything is ordered for good, so possibly you were permitted to suffer that you might come here and benefit me.  I think I must keep you, Adah, at least, until he is found.”

“No, no,” and the tears flowed at once, “I cannot be a burden to you.  I have no claim.”

After a moment she grew calm again, and continued: 

“You whispered, you know, that if I was ever in trouble, come to you, and that’s why I remembered you so well, maybe.  I wrote down your name, and where you lived, though why I did not know, and I forgot where I put it, but as if God really were helping me I found it in my old portfolio, and something bade me come, for you would know if it was true, and your words had a meaning of which I did not dream when I was so happy.  George left me money, and sent more, but it’s most gone now.  I can take care of myself.”

“What can you do?” Hugh asked, and Adah replied: 

“I don’t know, but God will find me something.  I never worked much, but I can learn, and I can already sew neatly, too; besides that, a few days before I decided to come here, I advertised in the Herald for some place as governess or ladies’ waiting maid.  Perhaps I’ll hear from that.”

“It’s hardly possible.  Such advertisements are thick as blackberries,” Hugh said, and then in a few brief words, he marked out Adah’s future course.

George Hastings might or might not return to claim her, and whether he did or didn’t, she must live meantime, and where so well as at Spring Bank, or who, next to Mr. Hastings, was more strongly bound to care for her than himself?”

“To be sure, he did not like women much,” he said; “their artificial fooleries disgusted him.  There wasn’t one woman in ten thousand that was what she seemed to be.  But even men are not all alike,” he continued, with something like a sneer, for when Hugh got upon his favorite hobby, “women and their weaknesses,” he generally grew bitter and sarcastic.  “Now, there’s the one of whom you are continually thinking.  I dare say you have contrasted him with me and thought how much more elegant he was in his appearance.  Isn’t it so?” and Hugh glanced at Adah, who, in a grieved tone, replied: 

“No, Mr. Worthington, I have not compared you with him—­I have only thought how good you were.”

Hugh knew Adah was sincere, and said: 

“I told you I did not like women much, and I don’t but I’m going to take care of you until that scoundrel turns up; then, if you say so, I’ll surrender you to his care, or better yet, I’ll shoot him and keep you to myself.  Not as a sweetheart, or anything of that kind,” he hastened to add, as he saw the flush on Adah’s cheek.  “Hugh Worthington has nothing to do with that species of the animal kingdom, but as my Sister Adah!” and as Hugh repeated that name, there arose in his great heart an indefinable wish that the gentle girl beside him had been his sister instead of the high-tempered Adaline, who never tried to conciliate or understand him, and whom, try as he might, Hugh could not love as brothers should love sisters.