“You shall sing no more to-night, my bird; but come to the centre table, where I have some gleanings of travel to show you.”
Alexander’s servant had in fact just placed upon the table a large portfolio containing interesting views of natural scenery and of works of art, collected in their travels. And in examining these the remainder of the evening passed.
On Sunday all the family went to St. John’s church together. But as Drusilla was not yet a member of the choir she sat in the Lyons’ pew.
On Monday morning, Mr. Alexander himself took his protegée back to her school. He was known there as a “patron,” and his request that his young ward, Miss Sterling, should confine her musical studies to the sacred branch of the art, met with a prompt acquiescence.
Leaving Drusilla under the charge of her teachers, he returned to his home to find it very dreary in the absence of his “child.”
“A letter from your uncle, the general,” said Mrs. Lyon, as she received him in the drawing-room.
“He says that Anna declines to hasten her visit upon ‘any gentleman’s account;’ and so they will not be with us before Christmas eve.”
“Humph!” said Mr. Alexander, seating himself with much indifference.
“I do not know that I can blame her. Certainly it is not her place to run after you, Alick, even if she is your promised bride. She must stand upon her dignity, I suppose.”
“Ah, well, just as she pleases; but I cannot but compare her with one who consults her heart and not her dignity where I am concerned.”