When she was able to be dressed and to recline in her easy chair, she would sit hours with the babe clasped to her bosom.
Strangely enough, that female martinet, the monthly nurse, never objected to this.
And to all Anna’s remonstrances Drusilla would answer:
“Oh, Miss Lyon, you don’t know, you can’t know, what this soft little form is to me, as I hold it to my bosom. It is such a soothing balm—such a heavenly comfort.”
Sometimes Anna would take an opportunity to speak to mammy on the subject; but mammy would answer:
“You let her alone, Miss. It’s all natur’ and all right. The baby’ll save her life. It’ll draw all the soreness out’n her heart and heal it up; mind me.”
But suddenly the thought came to the young mother that she was perhaps injuring her child by holding him in her lap so constantly. And then all her conduct with it changed. She would take him up only to nurse and get him to sleep. And then she would lay him in his little decorated cradle; but that cradle stood always by her side, so that, sleeping or waking, her infant son was never out of her sight.
It was beautiful to see the interest that the old General and his grand-daughter took in this young mother and child.
General Lyon visited Drusilla every morning, bringing some rare offering of fruit ordered from the city, or flowers from his own conservatory.
Anna was seldom out of the chamber. Every forenoon she took her needle-work and went to keep Drusilla company.