Then full of awe, scarcely breathing, she crept near him, laid her hand upon his shoulder, and murmured softly:
“Uncle.”
“My darling,” responded the old man, looking up with a smile.
“Thank Heaven!” fervently aspirated Drusilla.
“What is the matter, my darling? What troubles you?” gently questioned the old gentleman, perceiving her alarm.
“I—I found you sitting here in the cold and dark, and I feared that something ailed you. Nothing does?”
“Nothing, my child, except a little natural but unwise regret. Certainly, she had to marry. It is a woman’s destiny. And it is so well that in marrying she will not have to leave me. Still, still I feel it, darling. She was all I had left in the world.”
“She will be back in three weeks, dear uncle; back so soon that we shall scarcely have time to get the house set in order again for her reception. And now will you look at little Lenny? He has come to bid you good-night, and to ask you to come and take tea with his mamma,” said Drusilla, seating the boy on the old man’s knee.
By no manner of baby-babble could little Leonard possibly bid his godfather good-night, or invite him to tea; but he would put his little arms around the veteran’s neck, and press his lips to the veteran’s mouth, and laugh, and own his love and joy.
“Ah! may heaven forgive me for being so forgetful, so ungrateful as to say that I had no one but my Anna left me in the world, when I have little Lenny and his dear mother,” said the old man, pressing the child to his bosom, and drawing Drusilla to his side. “But oh! my dear, you know how it is—how it always has been, and always will be with poor human nature in all such cases. The shepherd of the Scripture parable. He thought not of his ninety and nine sheep, safe in the fold, but he mourned for the one lost.”