For Alexander Lyon, either from pride, compunction, or a faint revival of the old love, or from all these motives combined, had sent down not only Drusilla’s wardrobe and books, but every article of furniture that particularly appertained to her use. And all these were very carefully packed, so as to sustain no injury from the roughness of the roads over which they were brought.
There was first a whole wagon load of boxes filled with the rich and costly wearing apparel with which he had overwhelmed her in the days of his devotion.
Then there was another load composed of her mosaic work-table, sewing chair, and footstool; her enameled writing-desk, work-box and dressing-case; her favorite sleepy hollow of a resting-chair; and other items too numerous to mention.
The third load comprised her sweet-toned cottage piano, her harp, and her guitar.
It took two days to transport these things from Saulsburg to Old Lyon Hall, and it took two more days to unpack and arrange them all in Drusilla’s apartments.
The fond and faithful young wife contemplated these dear familiar objects with a strange blending of tenderness, regret and hope. Each item was associated with some sweet memory of her lost home and lost love. But even now she did not weep; she smiled as she whispered to her heart:
“He does not know it, but he loves me still; and some day he will come and tell me so. I can wait for that bright day, Alick, my Alick, when I shall place my boy in your arms and tell you how in the darkest hours I never ceased to love you and never doubted your love!”
She was absorbed for a little while, and then once more she murmured to herself in her beautiful reverie:
“For what would love be if darkness could obscure its light, or wrong destroy its life?”
Ah! if this devoted young wife ever does succeed in WINNING HER WAY to the heart and conscience of her husband, she will do it through the power of her love and faith alone.