“Anna, look at him—he is laughing, or, at the very least, smiling—is he not?”
“Yes, my darling, he is certainly smiling; and you know the old folks say when an infant smiles in its sleep it dreams of Heaven and sees angels.”
“And I do believe that is true—it must be true! And my little cherub sees his guardian angels!” exclaimed Drusilla, delightedly.
“I tell you, ma’am,” began mammy, “it is nothing but jest win—Owtch!” she exclaimed, suddenly breaking off as Anna trod heavily upon her corns.
And presently mammy limped off to make the threatened catnip tea, leaving the two young women to the enjoyment of their faith in the sleeping baby’s Heavenly visions.
For the first weeks infants’ eyes are of no particular form, color or expression, but merely little liquid orbs folded up in fat. But very soon Drusilla made very great discoveries in her infant’s eyes. Sitting alone one morning, and gazing down upon the babe that lay smiling on her lap, she murmured:
“Oh, Alick, Alick, dear, you have torn yourself away from me, and have gone. But you could not deprive me of your eyes, my Alick! They look up at me from my baby’s face, and while they do so I can never cease to love you and pray for you, Alick, my Alick!”
Since his desertion this was the only occasion upon which she had ever breathed his name, and even now it was only in half audible murmurs as she talked to herself, or to her babe.
By the other members of the family, Alexander’s name was never mentioned. General Lyon had given no orders to this effect, but the subject was tacitly dropped by all as one unspeakably painful and humiliating.
General Lyon, who loved the delicate, dove-eyed little woman with a fatherly fondness, would not let her confine herself to her own apartments a day longer than was necessary. He first of all wiled her down to the afternoon tea, and then after a few days coaxed her down to dinner; and on the Sunday following sent for her to join the family circle at breakfast.