They might have talked longer, but Pina, who had been fast asleep in her chair all this time, now tumbled off it and fell upon the floor with a noise that terrified both the friends and started them upon their feet.
“It is only that girl—how she frightened me! I thought it was some one breaking into the room!” exclaimed Anna, trembling as Pina picked herself up and stood staring in dismay.
“Poor girl! how thoughtless of me to have forgotten her! Go to bed, Pina, it is half-past twelve,” said Drusilla, kindly.
And the maid, still more than half asleep, tumbled off to her cot in a closet adjoining her mistress’s chamber.
Anna also arose, and, bidding Drusilla good-night, passed to her own room.
Drusilla went to bed, but not to sleep. She lay revolving the problem that Anna had left her to solve. Should she enter London society at all under her present circumstances?
As yet, neither her party nor herself had gone to any sort of private entertainment. They had left cards on the people to whom the General had letters of introduction. And they had received calls from many of them. Also they had many notes of invitation to dinners, balls, concerts, and fêtes of every description; but, as yet, none of these notes had fallen due. So Drusilla stood uncommitted to the world by either name or title.
Now the question with her was this,—Should she go to parties at all?
If she should, she was resolved it should be only under her simple name. But then, if being the wife of Lord Killcrichtoun, she should go only as Mrs. Lyon, would she not be, as Anna said, appearing under false colors?
Would it not be better, all things considered, that she should live secluded?