CHAPTER IV.A MESSENGER.

The boy alighted at the gate,But scarce upheld his fainting weight;His swarthy visage spake distress,But this might be from weariness.—Byron.

The boy alighted at the gate,

But scarce upheld his fainting weight;

His swarthy visage spake distress,

But this might be from weariness.—Byron.

In the sunshine of affection and happiness Drusilla grew beautiful and blooming. She loved her truant Alexander as faithfully as ever, but she loved him in hope and trust, and not in fear and sorrow. She felt that he was old enough, big enough and strong enough to take care of himself, even when out of her sight, while here upon her lap lay a lovely babe, a gift of the Heavenly Father to her, a soft little creature whose helplessness solicited her tenderness, whose innocence deserved it, and whose love will certainly return it.

Her baby gave her love for love, and the very faintness and feebleness of its little signs of love, made these sweet infant efforts all the more touching and pathetic. How could she trouble herself about Alexander and his doings while her little boy lay smiling in her eyes?

“Baby lips will laugh him down.”

“Yes, my darling boy,” she murmured, gazing fondly on his face, “you will always love me, and when you grow up to be a man you will love me all the more, because I shall be old and feeble.” And her thoughts involuntarily reverted to the bearded man who had rejoiced in her health and beauty, but turned coldly away from her when she was sick and pale, and most needed his love and care.

Anna, who was sitting with her, laughed merrily.

Drusilla looked up, with just a shadow of annoyance on her fair face. And Anna answered the look:

“My dear, I laughed at what you said.”

“Well, but I spoke truth. I know my darlingwillalways love me, and when he grows up a tall, strong man, and I shall be an old and infirm woman, he will loveme more tenderly than before, because Iamold and infirm,” persisted the fond mother, stooping her lips to her boy’s brow.

Anna laughed louder than ever.

“Why, Drusilla,” she said, “you are but sixteen years old. When your son is grown up, say at twenty, you will be but thirty-six, in the very maturity of a healthy woman’s strength and beauty. Your son will be your dearest friend and companion; if you have lost somewhat of the wife’s happiness, you will have an unusual share of the mother’s joy. You are still so young, such a mere child yourself, that you may take your little son by the hand with the prospect of going nearly the whole journey of life together. You will be his playfellow in his childish sports; his fellow student in his boyish studies, and his comrade in his youthful travels. You will go on in life and grow old together—or almost together.”

“Oh, so we will. I did not think of it before. I was thinking that the mother of a grown son must be quite an aged lady. Alick’s mother was quite aged and infirm.”

“Yes, because she was forty-four years old when Alick was born, which makes some difference, you know,’ laughed Anna.”

There was silence a little while and then Anna said,

“You will have much joy in your son, if the Lord should spare him to you, Drusilla.”

“The Lordwillspare him to me. I feel convinced of it,” answered the young mother reverently.

“And every year—nay, every month—your joy will increase; for as his affections and intelligence develop, he will grow more and more interesting and attractive to you.”

“It seems to me that he could scarcely ever be more interesting and attractive than he is now. Look at him, Anna. See how beautiful are his mute, faint efforts to express the love he feels, but does not understand. ‘Touch is the love sense.’ He knows that, at least; and see how his little hands tremble up towards mine and then drop; and see the smile dawning in his eyes, and fluttering around his lips, as if uncertain of itself? Will you tell me, at what time of a child’s existence it is sweeter and lovelier than now in its first budding into life?”

Before Anna could answer the question, the door was opened by mammy, who chirpingly announced:

“Here is Leo, from Cedarwood, ma’am, bringing letters for you.”

And she closed the door, leaving Leo standing before his astonished mistress.

“It is my footman from my old home, dear Anna,” explained Drusilla.

Then, turning to the messenger, she held out her hand and said:

“How do you do, Leo? You have letters for me?”

Leo slowly took a packet from his pocket, handed them over to his mistress, and then, lifting both his hands to his eyes, burst out crying andROAREDas only a negro boy with his feelings hurt can do.

“Why, what is the matter?” anxiously inquired Drusilla, pausing in the examination of her letters, in her pity for the distress of the boy—“What is the matter, my poor Leo?”

“Oh, mum, it is to see-hee,” sobbed Leo “to see-hee you so well-hell, and hap-pappy, and to know as I am bring—hing bad news again! Seems like I was born—horn to be the death of you, ma’am,” said the boy, scarcely able to articulate through his sobs.

“I hope not, Leo. Sit down and compose yourself. I trust your master is well.”

“Oh yes, mum, he is well enough (wish to Goodness Gracious he wasn’t!) but he’s done, tored up everything and—Boo! hoo! ooo!” cried Leo, gushing out into such a cataract of tears and sobs that he was forced to bury his face in his big bandana and sink into a seat.

“Compose yourself, Leo, and I will read my letters. They will explain, I suppose,” said Drusilla, opening the packet.

There were three letters from her lawyers, which she laid aside; and there was one from her husband, which she opened and read. It ran thus:

“Cedarwood, Dec. 22, 18—.

“Madam:—Had you chosen to remain quietly in the home I provided for you it should have been yours for life, with a sufficient income to keep it up. But as youvoluntarily left it, you have forfeited your right to return to it, as well as your claims upon me for support. The place is now dismantled and sold. The messenger who takes this letter has charge of all your personal effects, and will deliver them over to you.

“Alexander Lyon.”

We know the time, not so long since, when the young wife would have screamed, cried or swooned at the reception of such a letter from her husband.

Now, she simply bent forward and laid it on the fire, and when it blazed up and sank to ashes, she said:

“It is gone; and now it shall be forgotten.”

And then she stooped and kissed her babe.

Leo, stealing an anxious glance at her, misunderstood the movement and started forward, exclaiming:

“Oh, mum! don’t go for to faint; please don’t.”

Drusilla looked at him and smiled kindly, saying

“I am not likely to do so, my boy. I am strong and healthy now, thank Heaven! and besides, there is nothing to faint about. I am only a little sorry that the cottage is sold.”

“Oh, mum! don’t! I shall cry again if you do! Oh, mum, you used to say as how you would make that wilderness to bloom and blossom as the rose; and so you did, mum, lovely! But oh, mum! he have turned the beautiful place into a howling wilderness again!” bawled the boy.

“Never mind, Leo, I will get it back again some day and restore all its beauty,” said Drusilla, smiling. “And now, my boy, where is your sister?”

“She have gone back to Alexandria, mum; but sends her love and service to you, mum.”

“And the poor pets—the little birds, and the cat and kittens, Leo?”

“Pina has got them all to take care on for you, ma’am, till you sends for ’em and for her, cause she considers of herself into your service, ma’am, which likewise so do I.”

“And the cow and calf, and the horses, Leo?”

“They was sold to the people as bought the place, ma’am.”

“I hope they will be kindly treated.”

“I hope they will, ma’am; for they did miss you aswell as me and Pina did; and they showed it in every way as dumb creeturs could.”

“And where did you leave my effects, Leo?”

“I brought as many trunks as I could on the stage with me, ma’am; and the rest of the boxes is coming down by wagons. Pina was very careful in packing everything, ma’am; and here is the money you gave me to keep,” said Leo, taking a sealed packet from his breast pocket, and handing it to his mistress.

“Thanks, my boy; you and your sister have been very faithful, and I shall certainly retain you both in my service, and at an increase of wages.”

“Oh, ma’am, neither me, nor yet Pina is mussenary. We’ll be glad to come back to you on any terms.”

“And now, Leo, look here! Here is my baby boy; when the spring comes he will be big enough for you to take him on your shoulder and ride him about! Won’t you and he have a good time?”

“Oh, ma’am, what a purty little creetur! But he’sverylittle, ain’t he, ma’am?” said Leo, looking shyly at the baby, which indeed he had been furtively contemplating ever since he had been in the room.

“Why, no, Leo; for his age, he is very large,very! Who is he like, Leo! Look and tell me!”

Leo dutifully looked, and saw well enough who the boy really was like: but he answered stoutly:

“He is like you, ma’am, and nobody else.”

“Oh, look again, Leo! His eyes are open now.Nowwho is he like?”

“He is the image ofyou, ma’am, and not another mortial in the wide world,” repeated Leo, defiantly.

“Howcanyou say that, you stupid boy? Is he not like his father?”

“No, mum! not the leastest little bit in life! He is like nobody but you,” persisted the lad, doggedly.

“Leo, you are a mole! You have no eyes! Now go down to your mother, and tell her to make you comfortable.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I am so glad to see you so well, ma’am, with such a fine-looking baby. I am so thankful as you don’t take on about thinks like you used to do,” replied the lad.

“I am so much better and stronger now, Leo. But go and give my message to your mother.”

Leo bowed and left the room.

“So Alick has sold Cedarwood,” said Anna.

“Yes.”

“What a wretch!”

“Please, Anna—-”

“I can’t comprehend your tenderness for that man, Drusilla! but, there! I will not wound it if I can help it. I am glad he has sold Cedarwood, however. It settles the question of your future residence. You must stay with us now.”

As Anna spoke, General Lyon entered the room, and came with his pleasant smile and sat down beside his protégée.

She turned to him, and, laying her hand in his, said:

“My fate is decided for me, dear sir. I have no home but this, and no protector but you.”

“My darling, I am very glad.”

Yet, in saying this, the General looked from his adopted niece to his granddaughter, as if for an explanation.

Seeing Drusilla hesitate, Anna answered for her.

“Yes, sir, that vill—I mean Mr. Alexander Lyon—has sold Cedarwood.”

The General now looked from his granddaughter back to his niece as if demanding confirmation of the news.

“Yes,” admitted Drusilla, casting down her eyes—in regret for him, not in sorrow for herself; “he has sold Cedarwood, but then, you know, dear sir, that I had left the house.”

A flush of shame crimsoned the cheek, a frown of anger darkened the brow of the veteran soldier.

“And that man calls himself a Lyon and my nephew! I am glad now that they never called him Leonard! There never was a rascally Leonard Lyon yet! And I am very glad, my dear, that you did not name our noble boy here Alexander! The infern——”

Drusilla raised her hand with an imploring and deprecating gesture.

“Well, well, my dear, I will try not to offend again. It is true that an old soldier has a right to swear at his degenerate nephew; but not in the presence of ladies, Iconfess. So let the scound—I mean Alick—go. Yes, let him go, and joy go with him, especially as, setting the baseness of the act aside, I am really very glad hehassold Cedarwood for it settles the question of your residence with us, my dear.”

“And I am glad to stay here,” answered Drusilla, with a smile. “It is true that I thought it my duty to go back to Cedarwood, and await there the pleasure of my husband; and I should have risked everything and gone there, if he had not sold the place. And I know I should have had to wait long months or years for his return; and I should have been very lonely and dreary, and should have missed you and dear Anna and Dick very much. No, upon the whole, I cannot say that I am sorry to be relieved of the duty of going back to Cedarwood to live alone,” said Drusilla, frankly.

“That’s my girl! Sorry? no, I should think you would not be. What should you want with Cedarwood, trumpery toy cottage, with its little belt of copsewood, when you have Old Lyon Hall and its magnificent surroundings of forests and mountains?—to say nothing of havingMEand Anna and Dick!” exclaimed the old man, holding out his hand to his favorite.

She took it and pressed it to her lips, and then answered:

“Yet I love the pretty little wildwood home; and some day I will buy it back again, even if I have to pay twice or thrice its value.”

General Lyon looked up, surprised to hear the discarded wife and dependent woman talk so bravely of buying estates at fancy prices, even as Anna had looked at having heard her speak so freely of retaining her old servants at double wages. Yet both were pleased, for they said to themselves—“This proves that she has the fullest confidence in us, and knows that we will never let her feel a want, even a fantastic or extravagant want, unsupplied.” And the General answered:

“That is right, my dear girl. So you shall buy it back—to-morrow, if you like! or as soon after as we can bring the present proprietor to terms. Mr. Alexander shall learn that some things can be done as well as others. But Drusilla, my darling, although we may purchase theplace and restore it, I do not mean to consent that you shall ever return there to live alone; remember that.”

“I do not mean to do so, sir. I will never leave you until my husband calls me back to him,” said Drusilla, giving him her hand.

“That is right! that is sensible! Now, since you are fond of that little bird-cage, I will set about buying it for you directly. You shall have it for a New Year’s gift; and then if youmustsee the place sometimes, why we can all go and live there instead of at a hotel, when we go to Washington for the season.”

“Oh, how kind, how good you are to me,” breathed Drusilla, in a soft and low tone, with deep emotion; “but dear sir, do not think that I thank, or love, or bless you any the less, when I say that I do not wish this as a gift from your munificent hands. Dear uncle, I am well able to afford myself the pleasure of possessing my ‘toy cottage.’”

“Ah! hehasprovided handsomely for you, after all! Come! his villainy is a shade less black—I beg your pardon, my child! I won’t again! indeed I won’t—I mean his—transaction is a shade lighter than I supposed it. Well, I am glad, for his sake, that he has provided for you. But, Drusilla, my child, I would not take his money! having denied you his love and protection I would take nothing else from him.”

“Dear uncle, although I do not need anything from my Alick except his love, yet, should he offer anything, I would gratefully accept it, hoping that his love would follow. But you are mistaken—he has made no provision for me.”

“What did you mean then, my dear, by refusing Cedarwood as my gift and saying that you were able to purchase it yourself?”

“I have a large fortune in my own right, dear sir.”

“A fortune in your own right!” echoed Anna, in astonishment.

“You never mentioned this circumstance before, my dear,” said the General, in surprise and incredulity.

“Indeed, I had utterly forgotten it until my servant arrived with these letters from my solicitors. It was very stupid of me to forget it; but, dear sir, only think howmany more important matters there were to drive it out of my head,” replied Drusilla, deprecatingly.

“For my part, I do not think that anything can be more important to you, in present circumstances than the inheritance of a large fortune. Itisan inheritance, I suppose?”

“Oh yes, sir,—from my grand-uncle, a merchant of San Francisco.”

“And how large is the fortune?”

“I do not know, sir—some millions, I think. Here are the lawyer’s letters. I have not looked at them yet,” said Drusilla, putting the “documents” in the hands of her old friend.

“Astounding indifference!” he murmured to himself as he put on his spectacles and opened the letters.

Drusilla and Anna watched him attentively.

“Why, my dear child, you are a billionaire! You are probably the wealthiest woman in America!” exclaimed the General, in astonishment. “That is, if there is no mistake!” he added. “Are you sure you are the right heiress?” taking off his spectacles and gazing at Drusilla.

“I am quite sure, sir. There are too few of us to afford room for confusion. In my grand-uncle’s generation, there were but two of the family left—himself and his only brother, my grandfather. My grand-uncle, being a woman hater, lived and died a bachelor. My grandfather married, and had one only child—my father: who, in his turn, also married, and had one only child—myself. You see how plain and simple is the line of descent?”

“I see,” said the General, reflectively; “but, my dear, it is not sufficient for a set of facts to be true in themselves, they must be capable of being proved to the satisfaction of a court of law. Can all these births, marriages, and deaths be proved, Drusilla?”

“Oh, yes sir; there are so few of them—they have occurred within so short a time, comparatively speaking.”

“In what manner, my dear? Remember, Drusilla, that what might convince you or me of a fact might not have the same effect upon a court.”

“All that I have said, dear sir, can be established to the satisfaction of the most scrupulous court that ever existedby church registers and court records, family Bibles, tombstones, papers, letters, and personal friends.”

“I am glad to hear it. And you know where all these proofs can be found?”

“Yes, sir. Many of them, Bibles, letters, documents, and so forth, are in my possession. All the others are to be found in Baltimore.”

“Where a large portion of your inheritance lies, and where your lawyers live?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes; well, my dear, if all this is as you suppose it to be—and I have no doubt that it is so—your way to fortune is clear enough! Let me congratulate you, my dear, on being, perhaps, the richest woman in America!” said the General, shaking her hands warmly.

Anna also heartily added her own congratulations.

“And now, my child,” said the General, kindly, “let us attend to this business at once. Your lawyers are naturally displeased and suspicious at your long delay. As you are not very much of a business woman, you will let me take these letters to my study and answer them for you.”

“Oh, if you would be so kind, dear sir, I should be so happy.”

Back to Index Next