“I heard you come,” she exclaimed—“I heard you ride around to the stable first, and so I was here ready to open for you. But oh! how cold you look. Come in quickly,” she said, taking him by his frozen hands and drawing him into the hall, and then closing and bolting the front door with her own nimble fingers.
For an instant he was so “taken aback” by her unexpected manner that he positively shrank from her. But the next moment he caught her and folded her to his bosom, as he murmured:
“My darling, darling child! My own dearest and best little Drusilla! how could I ever leave you! Heart of my heart, I will never leave you again for a whole day alone as long as I live in this world.”
Rash vow! but he meant, at the moment, to keep it.
“Yes, that is what I am,” she whispered—“heart of your heart. That is the sweetest and the truest name you ever called me. And now let me help you off with your overcoat, and then you can come into the drawing-room. There is a good fire.”
He let her assist him in taking off his coat, and then he followed her into the drawing-room, where, as she had said, there was a good fire. His easy chair was standing before it, and his furred slippers were lying on the rug. And she had even brought down the boot-jack and laid it by the slippers.
Near the easy chair stood a small round table, covered with a white damask cloth and laid for two persons.
A bright tea-kettle sat singing before the fire, and two small silver covered dishes sat upon the hearth.
Seeing these simple preparations for his comfort and seeing the happy little creature who had made them, his heart smote him, first for having left her alone so late, and then for having entertained such hard thoughts of her.
“My darling child, how kind of you to do all this for me. But I am sorry you took the trouble,” he said, putting his arm around her and drawing her towards him where he sat in his resting chair.