“I don’t see how it can be helped, little Drusa. I wish it could be, in some way. Heaven knows how it pains me to part with you.”
And Mr. Alick thought of Joe Smith and the Mormon Bible and wished that one had been a true prophet and the other a divine revelation.
“Oh, dear Alick, it is selfish in me, I know, but I am glad it pains you to part with me; and I hope it may hurt you so badly that you may not be able to stay away,” said Drusilla, with a sweet smile.
“Ah, little Drusa! however distressing it may be to me to absent myself from you, I must do so when duty requires the sacrifice,” sighed Alexander, piously. Then, to change the subject, he inquired—“You have seen nothing more of the face at the window, little Drusa?”
“No, nothing at all. But then the windows, since you left, have always at nightfall been closed and curtained,” she answered.
“Nor heard anything of the man lurking about here?”
“No, not a word.”
“Nor gained any clue to his identity?”
“No, none.”
“Then you have not been annoyed by any such intrusion since I left you?”