So like the last, as all so firm a pledge
Of a congenial future, that the wheels
Of pleasure move without the aid of hope.—Wordsworth.
Very early on Monday morning Jacob Junior was dispatched to Saulsburg to meet the mail and fetch the papers. The messenger was so diligent that he brought in the bag and delivered it to his master while the family sat at breakfast.
There were no letters for anybody, but all the last Saturday’s papers had come.
General Lyon distributed them. A New York evening journal fell to Anna’s share. She turned immediately to look for the news of the outward bound steamers. She soon found what she was in search of. And as Alick’s name was still a tacitly dropped word in the presence of her grandfather, she silently passed the paper to Drusilla, and pointed to the list of passengers for Liverpool who sailed by the Erie, from New York, on the Saturday previous.
Drusilla looked and read among them:
“Mr. Alexander Lyon and two servants.”
Drusilla nodded and smiled, saying in a low voice:
“It is better so, for the present. I hope that he will enjoy himself and come home in a happier frame of mind.”