“Was there no one else in whom you took an interest?” she gravely inquired.
“Richard Hammond? Poor Dick! Surely no misfortune——”
“No, no misfortune has befallen Dick; and neither do I give you credit for caring a straw whether there has or has not. Nothing has happened to Dick but the inheritance of a large fortune from a bachelor uncle in Brazil, which has caused my grandfather to look on him with more tolerant eyes.”
“I am very glad of Dick’s good fortune.”
“I do not give you credit for caring a fig for his fortune, good or bad. But oh, Alick, I am grieved for you. Was there no one else, no one else you cared for, left at home?”
“Indeed, I cannot think of any other creature in whom I could be expected to take so deep an interest.”
“Not—poor little Drusilla?”
Alexander gave a great guilty start and stood gazing at his cousin. Drusilla had not been associated in his mind with any one left at home; so he had had no suspicion that Anna spoke of her; and now he wondered whether Anna had any inkling of the truth. He doubted only an instant, and then he felt sure by her words, looks and manners that she had not. Yet he wished to know everything she had to say of Drusilla’s flight.
“What of her?” he inquired.
“Oh, Alick, poor little thing! I grieve so much to tell you. But after you left home, it seems she became moody, silent, absent, and altogether queer. She took to wandering off every day by herself. Dorset and Molly thought that she was going deranged as her poor mother had gone. So they watched her closely. But one day, about a fortnight after you left home, she eluded their vigilance and disappeared from the house. And though the most diligent search was made for her, she could not be found.”