“No,” she answered, honestly; “I couldn’t even live, Alick. I couldn’t live away from you, any more than a flower broken off.”
“Oh, my soul! what will become of you, child? Better with your strong affections, better you had died in your infancy!” he muttered to himself.
“What is the matter, Alick? What are you saying?”
“I am thinking of you. Poor child! With your nature you can never be happy in this world.”
“Oh yes, I can, dear Alick! It takes so little to make me happy. Only let me live with you and I ask no more of earth, or Heaven.”
“My darling, I do believe, I do believe, if all other things were conforming, you could also make me very happy,” he said gravely and tenderly.
“I should try so zealously to do it, Alick. I would never vex you with weeping or moping. Because you know I never did weep for anything but your absence; and if I might be with you I should never have cause to weep again. If you must go back to Richmond, Alick, can’t you take me with you? I could get ready in half an hour, or in less time. And I wouldn’t be troublesome to you on the journey, indeed I wouldn’t, dear. Say, will you take me?”
“My little Drusa, it is impossible. I should not be able to stop in Richmond over twenty-four hours. I should have to go into the country and travel from place to place, on this vexatious business. But don’t look so despairing, darling! I will not stay a day longer than I can help,” he said, putting her gently from his arms, and throwing himself down into a chair beside her work-table.
She also resumed her seat. And she took up her needle-work.
“What are you amusing yourself with, little Drusa? Dressing dolls?” he inquired, taking up and inspecting the little, embroidered robe that lay upon her lap. “Is this for a great doll!”