“Explain yourself, my dear Drusilla; for indeed I fear some great grief has distracted your mind.”
“No, no; but oh, Miss Lyon, I am about to give you great pain! as great almost as I suffer myself. Would I could suffer alone! Would I could suffer for both!” moaned Drusilla, in a voice full of woe, as she bowed her head upon her hands.
“Speak out; speak freely,” said Miss Lyon, gravely.
“If I alone were concerned, I could be silent. If it were not to save one from crime and another from misery I could be silent.”
“Nay now, nay now, you do alarm me, Drusilla! To the point, dear child! to the point!” urged Miss Lyon.
“You are thinking ill of me?” asked the girl, raising those meek prayerful eyes to the face of the young lady.
“No, Drusilla! No one can judge you with more leniency than I shall, my poor, dear child. Do not fear to open your heart to me,” said Miss Lyon.
“I have no cause to fear on my own account, lady. You said that you would judge me with leniency. You meant that you would judge me with charity. But I am not a subject of charity, Miss Lyon, I am a subject for justice,” answered the girl, with gentle dignity.
“I am waiting to hear your communication, Drusilla, whenever you please to tell it to me,” said Miss Lyon.
But at that moment the door was opened, and Matilda entered with a tray in her hand.