And paradise was breathing in the sigh
Of nature’s child, in nature’s ecstacy.—Byron.
While Alexander Lyon paced the floor of his study, trembling with shame and anger, Drusilla sat in her little chamber, smiling with delight. The same event that thrilled his soul with a sense of wrong and mortification, filled her heart with joy. She was not to go back to school. She was to stay home with him; and this was all sufficient to her happiness. She neither knew, nor guessed, nor cared why she had been declined, as a pupil by Mrs. Irving. She had a vague impression that the school was full, or the staff of teachers incomplete; but she was too entirely absorbed in the happy thought of being at home for good with him, to speculate about the reason why she was so.
During the last twelve months, while in attendance upon her late benefactress, and also while with her lost mother, Drusilla had had the entire charge of Alexander’s wardrobe. To keep it in perfect order was with her a labor of love. So, on this morning, when she was so unexpectedly and joyfully reprieved from banishment, she sat down with her little work-basket beside her, and occupied the hours in darning small holes in silk and lambs-wool socks; and so neatly she darned, that it would have required sharp eyes to have found out where the recent rents had been. She worked and sang at her work, for her heart was overflowing with happiness.
Ah! even her mother was for the moment forgotten.
Late in the afternoon she was sent for to join Mr. Lyon at dinner.
She merely smoothed her hair and put on a fresh collar and pair of cuffs, and then went down into the dining-room.
There had always been kindness and gentleness in his manner to her. But now, as he arose to meet her, there was a tenderness in his expression that she had never seen before.
“My poor child! You are smiling; I really believe you are glad to be back at home,” he said, as he placed her in her chair.
“Indeed I am, very glad,” answered Drusilla, truthfully.