“But I trust in you,” Drusilla replied, as she bowed her head, and then went up stairs to take off her bonnet.
Alexander Lyon went into the morning sitting-room and rang the bell, and then dropped, half dead with trouble, into his leathern arm-chair.
Old Dorset answered the summons.
“Come here—close to me,” said the young man.
And Dorset; perplexed and disturbed by the looks and manners of his master, approached.
“Dorset, you are an old, faithful and very discreet servant,” commenced Mr. Alexander.
Dorset bowed humbly and silently.
“I wish to speak to you upon a very delicate subject, which I would not name to any other person in the house, or even to you, except under the most urgent necessity. Dorset——” He paused, as if he found the greatest difficulty in proceeding. And Dorset bowed again, and waited in respectful attention. “Dorset,” he resumed, “while Miss Sterling has been in this house, have you heard any rumor prejudicial to her good name?”
The old servant bowed his head upon his breast, and remained in a deep silence of grief and mortification.
“That is enough!” said the young man, grimly; “your silence is more eloquent than words. But now open your mouth and speak, to tell me who started these reports, for, by the father of lies, I swear to visit them heavily upon the head of the slanderer!”