“Oh, my son! my son!” she cried, and fell sobbing for joy in his arms.
The housekeeper withdrew, taking her daughter with her, and leaving the mother and son alone together.
Arrived in her own room, Mrs. Sterling sat her daughter down before her, and began to lecture her.
Drusilla—she preached—must not allow Mr. Alexander to pet her and caress her now, as he had done before he went away. Drusilla was too great a girl now, for that sort of thing. Truly, she was not a woman yet; but she was growing into one, and so the familiarities that were quite innocent when she was a child, would be extremely improper now that she was almost a young woman. Such was the purport of the sermon.
Drusilla trembled excessively, and wept a little over this exordium. In her heart she agreed with it, but grieved over it.
It was just such a lecture as any prudent mother might have given her growing daughter under the circumstances. But Drusilla, while acquiescing in its propriety, was shocked by its plainness.
Their interview was interrupted by the voice of Mrs. Lyon, who came herself in search of her favorite.
“Where are you, Drusilla, my dear? Come and thank your benefactor for all that he has done for you, and show him how much you have profited by his kindness,” said the old lady, as she came in.
Blushing and embarrassed, the girl followed the lady to the drawing-room.
Mr. Alexander had changed his travelling suit for an evening dress, and was sitting talking to Judge Lyon about the voyage home.