“Oh, Alexander, not you! it was never your looks, although I like you to be handsome. But oh, dear Alick, if you were to be maimed by accident or marked by illness, I should love you quite as much as I do now, and even more tenderly, I think, as I know I shall love you when you are old and gray.”
“Bah! I would rather die than grow old and gray; but the time for that is far enough off, thank Heaven!” said Alexander, as he led her back into the house.
He took her into the drawing-room and showed her three musical instruments, each of the very best quality—a piano, a harp and a guitar. Upon a stand near was a collection of old standard music, and of all the best new pieces out.
I suppose no one but a monomaniac in music can understand the delight of sitting down and trying the tone of a new instrument of the very best order.
Drusilla placed herself at the piano, and ran her fingers up and down the keys to test its powers. And then she turned over her music and sang song after song, for hour after hour, without weariness. And Alexander leaned over her, and listened to her without flagging.
When at length she arose from the piano, he led her from the drawing-room and across the hexagon hall to an opposite room, fitted up as a library. Here, in the elegant book cases, were collected some of the best standard works in English, French and German, also some choice Latin and Greek volumes, and a few of the most popular publications of the day.
Here were neat writing desks, easy reading chairs, soft foot cushions, and every means and appliance of comfort and luxury.
And on the walls were a few very choice pictures, and on stands stood statuettes and vases and other gems of art, to please a cultivated taste.
“No words—you leave me no words to thank you for all these blessings,” Drusilla murmured.
“I tell you they are all mine as you are mine, so there are no words wanted for thanks,” smiled Alexander.