“Why, about ten o’clock I called in Pina and told her as the night was so sharp, and the ride so long, you would need a warm supper when you should arrive; and that we must get one up between us for you. And so Pina dressed the partridges, and I made the salad and set the table, and—that was how it was. And when all was ready I made Pina and Leo go to bed, because the poor creatures have to rise so early in the morning. And I told them to leave the shutters open, that the light might be a beacon to you on this dark night.”
“My darling, darling child! I always knew that your nature was as sweet as a saint’s, but I never knew how heavenly sweet, until to-night! You have given me such loving welcome! You have not even looked a reproach to me for disappointing you, and you have not once asked me why I did it.”
She stopped his words with kisses. And with her arm around his neck, and her cheek laid against his, she whispered:
“As if I hadn’t faith in you. As if I didn’t love you and trust you.”
“Oh, you dove! I would not give you for Anna Lyon and all the fine ladies that live, or ever did, or ever will live!” he said, warmly embracing her.
“I hope,” she whispered, softly, “that you would never wish to give me up for any one; not that I am better than others; not that I am so good as they; but because I am your own, and you love me. But what made you think of Miss Lyon just then, dearest?”
“Oh, because, you know, it was planned between our parents, that Anna and I should marry, whether we liked to do it or not; fortunately, neither of us liked to do it.”
“‘Fortunately;’ oh yes, how very fortunately! I cannot bear to think what I should have done, if you had married Miss Lyon,” said Drusilla, with a shudder.
Alexander wished to divert the conversation from the dangerous topic to which he had so thoughtlessly led it, so he said:
“And you thought I had gone to the Italian Opera, this evening, did you, my little love?”