"Was that polished villain who had led him into sin anything to Adaline, anything to his mother?
Poor girl, I am sorry if you, too, have been contaminated, however slight the contamination may be," he said, softly, glancing again at Adah, about whose lips a faint smile was playing, and who, as he looked, murmured faintly: "Kiss me, George, just as you used to do." "Rascally villain!" Hugh muttered, clinching his fist involuntarily.
"You don't deserve that such as she should dream of you.

I'd kiss her myself if I was used to the business, but I should only make a bungle, as I do with everything, and might kiss you, little shaver," and Hugh bent over Willie.
There was something in Hugh which won his confidence at once, and stretching-out his dimpled arms, he expressed his willingness to be taken up.

Hugh could not resist Willie's appeal, and lifting him gently in his arms, he bore him off in triumph, the little fellow patting his cheek, and rubbing his own against it.
"I don't know what I'll do with you, my little man," he said, as he reached the lower hall; then suddenly turning in the direction of his mother's room, he walked deliberately to the bedside, and ere the half-awakened 'Lina was aware of his intention, deposited his burden between her and his mother.
"Here, Ad, here's something that will raise you quicker than yeast," he said, beating a hasty retreat, while the indignant young lady verified his words by leaping half-way across the floor, her angry tones mingling with Willie's crowing laugh, as the child took the whole for fun, meant expressly for his benefit.
Hugh knew that Willie was safe with his mother, and hurried out to the kitchen, where only a few of his negroes were yet stirring.
"Ho, Claib!" he called, "saddle Rocket quick and bring him to the door.
I'm going to the cornfield." "Lor' bless you, mas'r, it's done snow higher than Rocket's head.

He never'll stand it nohow." "Do as I bid you," was Hugh's reply, and indolent Claib went shivering to the stable where Hugh's best horses were kept.
A whinnying sound of welcome greeted him as he entered, but was soon succeeded by a spirited snort as he attempted to lead out a most beautiful dapple gray, Hugh's favorite steed, his pet of pets, and the horse most admired and coveted in all the country.
"None of yer ars," Claib said, coaxingly, as the animal threw up its graceful neck defiantly.

"You've got to git along, 'case Mas'r Hugh say so.