“My dear, your love may in time—or in eternity—redeem the fellow, for ought I know. But it has not yet changed him into an angel of light or even into a decently behaved devil, for a very devil with any decency left in him would have come round long before this. Well, well, there, I see how much I distress you. I will say no more, my dear; I will say no more.”
Drusilla bowed in silence and turned away. Her heart was too full for utterance. Her voice was choked with emotion. She felt all the more deeply hurt by her uncle’s severe strictures upon her Alick, because she knew them to be the expression of his real and but too well-founded opinion. And neither could she resent them, coming from him. She owed him too vast a debt of gratitude. He had saved her life and her child’s life in their utmost extremity. And besides, he was Alick’s uncle, and the head of his family; he had himself, in the person of his beloved granddaughter, been deeply wronged by his nephew and so had the right to sit in judgment on him.
Thus because she heard this blame cast upon her still beloved Alick without the moral power of resenting it, she suffered in silence.
Not long, however. The cloud soon lifted itself and rolled away. Little Lenny came to her with his whistle.
“Put dit ’way. Lenny tired. Lenny daw ate,” he said, pushing the toy up into her lap.
“Put it away, mamma. Lenny is tired, and Lenny’s jaws ache and no wonder,” said Anna, smiling. “We are all glad that Master Lenny’s jaws can ache with all his tooting, as well as our ears.”
“’Top naddin’,” answered Lenny.
“‘Stop nagging’? Where did he pick up that phrase, eh, Master Lenny? You don’t hear it from any of us.”
“Come, my dears, if we are to see the Tower before dinner, we had better start at once. Is Lenny to go with us, Drusa?”
“Yes, sir, if you please.”