“When the world has stung you nearly to death or to madness, my dear, you may judge more truly and less tenderly of it. And now, Drusilla, hear me. You do not go to Cedarwood; you do not leave our protection until your husband claims you of us. Let the subject drop here at once, and forever.”
Drusilla bowed her head in silence; but she was not the less resolved at heart to return to Cedarwood, and risk all dangers, in the hope that her husband might some day join her there.
But Destiny had decided Drusilla’s course in another direction.
The event that prevented her return to Cedarwood shall be related in the next chapter.
CHAPTER IV.
A MESSENGER.
The boy alighted at the gate,
But scarce upheld his fainting weight;
His swarthy visage spake distress,
But this might be from weariness.—Byron.
In the sunshine of affection and happiness Drusilla grew beautiful and blooming. She loved her truant Alexander as faithfully as ever, but she loved him in hope and trust, and not in fear and sorrow. She felt that he was old enough, big enough and strong enough to take care of himself, even when out of her sight, while here upon her lap lay a lovely babe, a gift of the Heavenly Father to her, a soft little creature whose helplessness solicited her tenderness, whose innocence deserved it, and whose love will certainly return it.