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.” “But your father? What do you know of him?” said Mrs. Worthington, and instantly a shadow stole into the sweet young face, as Adah replied, “Nothing definite.” “And Hugh? Where did you meet him? And what is he to you?” “The only friend I’ve got in the wide world. May I see him, please?” “First tell what he is to you and to this child,” ’Lina rejoined, her black eyes flashing with a gleam, before which the brown eyes for an instant quailed; then as if something of a like spirit were called to life in her bosom, Adah answered calmly, “Your brother might not like me to tell. I must see him first—see him alone.” “One thing more,” and ’Lina held back her mother who was starting in quest of Hugh, “are you a wife?” “Don’t, ’Lina,” Mrs. Worthington whispered, as she saw the look of agony pass over Adah’s face. “Don’t worry her so; deal kindly by the fallen.” “I am not fallen!” came passionately from the quivering lips. “I’m as true a woman as either of you—look!” and she pointed to the golden band encircling the third finger. ’Lina was satisfied, and needed no further explanations. To her, it was plain as daylight. Two years before Hugh had gone to New York on business connected with his late uncle’s affairs, and in an unguarded moment had married some poor girl, whose pretty face had pleased his fancy. Tiring of her, as of course he would, he had deserted her, keeping his marriage a secret, and she had followed him to Spring Bank. These were the facts as ’Lina read them, and though she despised her brother for it, she was more than half glad. Hugh could never taunt her again with double dealing, for wouldn’t she pay him back if he did, with his neglected, disowned wife and child? She knew they were his, and it was a resemblance to Hugh, which she had noticed from the first in Willie’s face. How glad ’Lina was to have this hold upon her brother, and how eagerly she went in quest of him, keeping back old Chloe and Hannah until she had witnessed his humiliation. Somewhat impatient of the long delay, Hugh sat in the dingy kitchen, watching the tallow candle spluttering in its iron socket, and wondering who it was he had rescued from the snow, when ’Lina appeared, and with an air of injured dignity, bade him follow her.