“You had better be quite sure that the girl in your arm is a wife before you offer her the protection of your roof and the society of your grand-daughter!” sneered Alexander, bitterly.
“Sir, you have struck the last blow to your own honor and my patience. Alexander Lyon, if you were not the son of my dead brother I would curse you where you stand! But go!” said the old man, lifting, up and stretching out his arm with an imperious gesture. “Leave this house, and never desecrate its halls again with your presence! and never again let me see your face!”
Cursing and stamping with fury, Alexander turned and flung himself from the room.
In the hall outside his voice was heard calling loudly to his servant to put his horses to his carriage and bring it around to the door.
General Lyon gazed down upon the poor young wife at his side, and said:
“Look up my child. Here is your home and your father and your sister. Be of good comfort, trust in God, and all will be well.”
She answered nothing, but sunk heavily within his aged arms, that yet were quite strong enough to support her sinking form. She had succumbed to one of those fainting fits which, through the agonies she had so long endured, had now become habitual to her.
“Grandpa, she has swooned! Marcy, come here quickly. You are strong; help to carry her to the sofa. Matty, go to the spare room opposite mine and turn down the bed; see to the fire, and come back and tell me when all is ready,” exclaimed Anna, rapidly issuing her orders, while she hastily took off Drusilla’s bridal wreath and veil, and unloosened her dress.
Marcy who had been in the group of servants assembled to witness the marriage ceremony, was quickly on the spot, and with her assistance Anna bore the insensible form of Drusilla to the sofa and laid her on it.
General Lyon followed, looking anxiously upon the pale face of the sufferer.