Poor Hugh

"Miss Worthington is not at home," she said, going down the steps and
advancing closer to him, "but I can take your message. Is anything the
matter with Mr. Worthington?"

Aunt Eunice had now joined her, and listened breathlessly while the
young man told of Hugh's illness, which threatened to be the prevailing
fever.

"They were bringing him home," he said--"were now on the way, and he had
ridden in advance to prepare them for his coming."

Aunt Eunice seemed literally stunned and wholly incapable of action,
while the negroes howled dismally for Mas'r Hugh, who, Chloe said, was
sure to die.

"She'd felt it all along. She knew dem dogs hadn't howled for nothing,
nor them deathwatches ticked in the wall. Mas'r Hugh was gwine to die,
and all the blacks would be sold--down the river, most likely, if Harney
didn't get 'em," and crouching by the kitchen fire old Chloe bewailed
the calamity she knew was about to befall them.

Alice alone was calm and capable of action. A room must be prepared, and
somebody must direct, but to find the somebody was a most difficult
matter. Chloe couldn't, Hannah couldn't, Aunt Eunice couldn't, and
consequently it all devolved upon herself.

They carried Hugh to the room designated by Densie, and into which he
went very unwillingly.

It was not his den, he said, drawing back with a bewildered look; his
was hot, and close, and dingy, while this was nice and cool--a room such
as women had--there must be a mistake, and he begged of them to take him
away.