“I was on my way to my own room, but found your door ajar, so I took the liberty to look in,” said Mrs. Hammond.
“Come in, dear Anna. But I should think you would be tired enough to hurry off to bed.”
“No, not yet; I haven’t get over the excitement of witnessing your success, Drusa. And I have so much to say about it before I can sleep. And besides Dick hasn’t got in yet.”
“Are you uneasy about him, Anna?” sympathetically inquired Drusilla.
“Not at all. I suppose he hasn’t been able to pick up a cab and has perhaps started to walk home. Uneasy? No indeed! what is to hurt him in broad daylight? But, Drusilla, you have been crying! You have been crying hard! Now was it ever heard that the belle of the evening came home from her triumphs and cried?” said Mrs. Hammond, sitting down beside her friend.
“Oh, Anna! Anna! Oh, Anna! Anna! if you knew how little my heart was in it all! What could I care for all those strange people—I who only longed to be reconciled with my Alick!” she answered, bursting into a torrent of tears.
“He was there,” said Anna, quietly.
“Do I not know it? He was there all the evening. He was near me many times. I felt that he was, though I did not see him; for oh, Anna, I was afraid to look towards him and meet again that cold and cutting gaze that almost slew me in the Tower!”
“Don’t ky, Doosa! Please don’t ky. ’Deed Lenny be dood boy. Let Lenny wipe eye,” said the child, taking up the edge of his night-gown and trying to dry his mother’s tears.
“My darling, you are good, and I won’t cry to distress you, poor little soul. I should have died long ago if it hadn’t been for you, my little angel. There, Doosa has done crying now,” she said, wiping her eyes and smiling on the child.