his foam-covered horse, muttering
between his teeth a curse on Hugh Worthington.

"That was Harney?" Alice said, stopping a moment outside the gate to
look after him as he went tearing down the pike.

"Yes, that was Harney," Hugh replied. "There's a political meeting of
some kind in Versailles to-day, and I suppose he is going there to raise
his voice with those who are denouncing the Republicans so bitterly, and
threatening vengeance if they succeed."

"The South will hardly be foolish enough to secede. Why, the North would
crush them at once," returned Alice, still looking after Harney, as if
she knew she were gazing after one destined to figure conspicuously in
the fast approaching rebellion, his very name a terror and dread to the
loyal, peace-loving citizens of Kentucky.

CHAPTER XXIX

HUGH AND ALICE

Three weeks had passed away since that memorable ride. Mr. Liston, after
paying to the proper recipients the money due for Mosside, had returned
to Boston, leaving the neighborhood to gossip of Alice's generosity,
and to wonder how much she was worth. It was a secret yet that Lulu and
Muggins were hers, but the story of Rocket was known, and numerous were
the surmises as to what would be the result of her daily, familiar
intercourse with Hugh. Already was the effect of her presence visible in
his improved appearance, his gentleness of manner, his care to observe
all the little points of etiquette never practiced by him before, and
his attention to his own personal appearance. His trousers were no
longer worn inside his boots, or his soft hat jammed into every
conceivable shape, while Ellen Tiffton, who came often to Spring Bank,
and was supposed to be good authority, pronounced him almost as stylish
looking as any man in Woodford.

To Hugh, Alice was everything, and he did not know himself how much he
loved her, save when he thought of Irving Stanley, and then the keen,
sharp pang of jealous pain which wrung his heart told him how strong was
the love he bore her. And Alice, in her infatuation concerning the
mysterious Golden Hair, did much to feed the flame. He was to her like a
beloved brother; indeed, she had one day playfully entered into a
compact with him that she should be his sister, and never dreaming of
the mischief she was doing, she treated him with all the familiarity of
a pure, loving sister. It was Alice who rode with him almost daily. It
was Alice who sang his favorite songs. It was Alic