“There! I knew he had been to a stable, and Anna said he hadn’t,” laughed the General.
“I did not know that he had gone to one, grandpa.”
“Of course you did not, my child, or you wouldn’t have spoken so. But you see, I knew him better even than you did. And now let us have breakfast.”
As soon as the morning meal was over, Drusilla took little Lenny and retired to her own room. This was not her custom in the forenoon; but on this occasion she acted with a purpose. She had not failed to see that both Anna and Dick were seriously disturbed, and that they wished to be alone with the head of the family; but she had not in her thoughts connected their disturbance in any manner with her own husband. On the contrary, she, too, unjustly suspected poor Dick of having in some manner fallen from grace—of having, perhaps, been tempted to a gambling table and lost more money than he could just then conveniently pay, and of being forced to apply to the General. So hard, you see, it is for a young man who has once lost the confidence of his friends, to recover it, even from those who love him best. So never suspecting that Alexander was on the verge of crime and death, but sighing over the supposed danger of poor Dick, Drusilla sat down with little Lenny in her own chamber.
As soon as the party in the breakfast parlor was left alone, General Lyon rang for the waiter to take away the breakfast service, and when that was done, he turned to his young people and said, somewhat sternly, for he still suspected Dick:
“Now, then, what is it? Speak out. Let us hear the worst, and hear it at once, for Heaven’s sake.”
“You should have heard it at once, but we could not say anything about it before Drusilla,” said Dick.
“I suppose not. But she is gone now, so why do you hesitate? What is the matter?”
“Sir, it is this: Alexander Lyon has challenged Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden.”
“Good Lord! is the man mad?” exclaimed the General.