So she sat down and wrote to the firm of Kent & Heneage, and told them that she was the only child of the late Reverend Malcomb Sterling, by his wife Anna.
She sent off this letter; and soon forgot all about the matter in her all-engrossing anxiety to hear from her husband.
As before, she every day sent Leo to the post office, with orders if he should find a letter by the first mail to hasten home with it immediately; if not, to wait for the second mail.
On a fresh and brilliant morning of the third day after she had written to the lawyers, Drusilla was at work in her flower-garden, when she saw Leo galloping toward the house, and holding out at arm’s length a letter.
The face of the boy, who had seen and understood his mistress’s daily disappointment, was beaming with delight, as he drew rein before her, sprang from his saddle, and handed her the letter.
She seized it eagerly, believing it to be from her husband, and exclaimed in her joy:
“Oh, thank you, Leo! At last—at last! Oh, I’m so glad!”
“’Deed, so am I, ma’am—glad as if I’d had a fortin left me,” answered the boy, showing in every tone and look as much sympathy as he could combine with very much respect, “which it is from master, ma’am, and I hope he is well?”
But the little lady’s face had fallen. The letter was not from her beloved husband, announcing his speedy arrival. It was only from the firm of Kent & Heneage, and it only informed her of her inheritance of a vast estate, by the decease of a bachelor great-uncle, who was a merchant of San Francisco with a corresponding house in Baltimore, and who had recently died intestate in the first mentioned city.
This news would have made some women very happy. But not Drusilla. The reaction with her was great. Tears of disappointment swelled her eyelids, and dropped upon the open page.