“No offence, I hope, Alick!” said young Harpe, good-humoredly, noticing Mr. Lyon’s gloomy abstraction.
“None in the world,” answered Alexander.
“Because, if there should be, I am ready to fight or apologize, or to give you any sort of satisfaction you may please to demand,” laughed the young lieutenant.
“I ask as a favor that you will drop the subject of this young lady; for she is a lady by position, if not—according to your judgment—in manners. And now, gentlemen, as I have an engagement, I must wish you good evening,” said Mr. Lyon, bowing and withdrawing from their proximity.
“No,” he said, as he went slowly up to his room, “I must not bring Drusilla into public again. Her beauty excites attention and her simplicity provokes criticism, and both raise questions difficult to meet. Poor little Drusa, she must always be a hidden treasure, a secret ‘well-spring of joy’ to me. Well, she will not object to that, and she will be all the lovelier and the sweeter for this seclusion,” he added, in some self-satisfaction, as he entered his room and began to dress for the evening.
As soon as he was ready he went down to the dining-room, took a single cup of strong tea, and then passed out to the sidewalk and called the best-looking cab that he saw upon the stand.
A short drive took him to the hotel where his uncle and cousin were stopping. He was shown up into their private parlor, where they were awaiting him.
“You are late, Alick,” said Anna, advancing from the fire to meet him half way across the room.
“I had to wait for my parcels,” replied Alexander, bowing and smiling apologetically.
“Oh, your luggage from the railway station? Well, the porters are slow, that is certain; but then they have so much to do,” said old General Lyon, drawing a natural inference.