“Who said he was? I didn’t. All I say is, that he has got just the sweetest little beauty you ever saw in your life cozily concealed in a pretty cottage orneé at Cedarwood. And he is very fond of her, and she is entirely devoted to him; and he calls her sweet love, and little Drusa. And she is just the loveliest little creature the sun ever shone upon, with a clear pale face, and lustrous dark hair and eyes, of such unfathomable depths of passion and of thought that she might well be supposed to be from the East, and be a daughter of the Druses.”
“Are you sure of this?” asked Dick, with emphasis.
“I’ll swear to it.”
“Who is she then?”
“Ah! that I don’t know.”
“What is she to him?”
“Can’t undertake to say. I’ll swear that this little beauty is living under his protection in his house at Cedarwood. But whether she is his wife, or his sister, or his mother, or his maiden aunt, of course, I can’t tell. Doubtless it is some highly respectable connection of that sort, Mr. Alexander Lyon being master of the house. If it was you, Dick, you see we should all know what to think!” laughed Captain Reding.
Dick Hammond had been gazing steadily into the face of the speaker, and rubbing his own brows very thoughtfully and occasionally frowning painfully. But now he suddenly started up, struck his hand upon his forehead, and exclaimed:
“Good Heaven! It must be Drusilla Sterling!”
“Humph! Forestic again! You know her then?” said Captain Reding.