CHAPTER XXXI.FIRST ABSENCE.
I heard thy light, careless farewell, love,And patiently saw thee depart—Ay, patiently. But could words tell, love,The sorrow that swelled in my heart?Yet tearless and still though I stood, love,Thy last words are thrilling me yet,And my lips would now breathe if they could, love,The deep prayer—“Oh do not forget.”—Anon.
I heard thy light, careless farewell, love,And patiently saw thee depart—Ay, patiently. But could words tell, love,The sorrow that swelled in my heart?Yet tearless and still though I stood, love,Thy last words are thrilling me yet,And my lips would now breathe if they could, love,The deep prayer—“Oh do not forget.”—Anon.
I heard thy light, careless farewell, love,And patiently saw thee depart—Ay, patiently. But could words tell, love,The sorrow that swelled in my heart?Yet tearless and still though I stood, love,Thy last words are thrilling me yet,And my lips would now breathe if they could, love,The deep prayer—“Oh do not forget.”—Anon.
I heard thy light, careless farewell, love,
And patiently saw thee depart—
Ay, patiently. But could words tell, love,
The sorrow that swelled in my heart?
Yet tearless and still though I stood, love,
Thy last words are thrilling me yet,
And my lips would now breathe if they could, love,
The deep prayer—“Oh do not forget.”—Anon.
Drusilla went to her own room, wept a little, and blamed herself for that weakness, and then she called her maid to help her, and she spent the whole day in preparing her husband’s wardrobe for his journey.
It happened for once that Mr. Lyon could keep his word to his wife without much personal inconvenience, and so he kept it.
When he reached the city that day he made a morning call upon his uncle and his cousin. He found the General was engaged to dine that evening with a veteran brother officer, and Miss Lyon would be occupied with the preparations for her journey, so that neither the old gentleman nor the young lady would be at liberty to entertain him longer than the morning.
After lunching with his relatives, and arranging to join them at nine the next morning, he bade them good day.
He went to his own hotel where he called for his bill, settled it in full, gave up the keys of his rooms, and so closed his connection with the house.
From the hotel he went to the livery stable, mounted his horse and rode homeward.
He reached Cedarwood at seven o’clock. He found his trunk ready packed, corded and labelled for his journey, and standing in the hall. He found the drawing-room as cozy and inviting as his wife always made it for his reception;the fire burning brightly, and the tea-table standing before it spread with all the dainties he most liked; and, above all, he foundher, pretty, well-dressed, and cheerful as she could command herself to be.
This was the first time for many weeks that he had taken tea with his wife, and she made it a festive occasion. He began again to realize that he loved her; he felt like pressing her to his heart as in the first days of their marriage, before the witchery of the world came between them, or he had discovered what he supposed to be the illegality of their marriage. Yes, he would have liked to have shown her these proofs of reviving affection; but he did not. He had decided, in the secrecy of his own insane mind, that she was henceforth to be only as a sister to him until he should be able to part with her entirely; and so he treated her now very gently but very coldly.
After tea, which he took care should be prolonged as far into the evening as possible, he asked her to sing and play for him.
And she very gladly sat down to the piano, and executed some of his favorite pieces in her very best style.
He purposely kept her there, playing piece after piece, until she was really wearied.
And then when she rose from the instrument he took the lead in the conversation, and would talk of nothing but music, musicians, and composers until the clock struck eleven. Then he suddenly said:
“My little girl it is late, and you are tired; go to bed at once. I have letters to write that will detain me an hour or so. When I have finished them I will come up.”
“Alick, dear, letters to write so late to-night when you have to start so early to-morrow?”
“Yes, little Drusa.”
“Why didn’t you write them earlier in the evening, then?”
“Because I wanted to enjoy every moment of your company while you sat up, Drusa, and I knew I could write them after you had retired,” he artfully replied.
“But I had rather not leave you at all this last evening, Alick. I will sit very quietly near you and not interrupt you the least while you write your letters.”
“But I will not permit you to do so, Drusa. You are pale with want of rest even now; and you will make a point of getting up to-morrow morning even sooner than I shall—I know you will.”
“I must, Alick dear, to see that you have a good breakfast ready in time to eat it leisurely before you go.”
“Just so; therefore you must go to rest now. There, be a good girl, and clear out, will you?”
“Yes, Alick,” she answered, in a depressed tone. “Good night;” and she put up her lips to kiss him.
“Bosh! no good night in the case. Do you think I am going to sit up till day writing letters?” he said, laughing and evading her caress.
Feeling that something was very wrong, yet trying not to think so, she left the room and went up stairs to bed.
And after a little while, being almost worn out by so many nights’ watching, she fell asleep and slept until morning.
Meanwhile, Alexander wrote a couple of trifling letters, and then, not to disturb her, he stole on tip-toes up to his newly chosen room and went to rest.
Drusilla was the first up in the morning, before even her servants were astir. She roused Pina and set her to work, and helped with her own hands, and to such good purpose that a very nice breakfast was soon ready and waiting for Alexander.
He came down, and greeted Drusilla kindly, but without his usual morning kiss. And she felt the slight; but neither spoke nor looked her chagrin.
“You were so still that I thought you were asleep when I went up stairs last night, so I took care not to wake you by entering your room; for you needed rest very much, little Drusa,” he said, in explanation of his second desertion.
“Yes, Alick,” she answered, quietly; and she went on to make his coffee.
When breakfast was over there came a hurried leave-taking.
Alexander pulled on his riding-coat in great haste; drew on his gloves and then looked at Drusilla.
“Well,” he muttered to himself, “she is henceforth only like my sister; but I should embrace my sister before leaving her to go on a journey.”
“What are you saying, Alick dear?” inquired Drusilla, who caught the sound, but not the import of his words.
“Nothing. Good-bye, my little Drusa, my darling little Drusa,” he said, folding her to his bosom and kissing her as no man ever kissed his sister yet, and as he had not kissedherfor many weeks.
“You do love me then, after all, don’t you, Alick?” she said, in delight.
“Love you! I think I do, little darling! But now I must tear myself from you, Drusa. You will find in my glass drawer a roll of bank-notes amounting to between five and six hundred dollars, for your use while I am gone.”
“Oh, Alick, I shall never want the tenth part in so short a time as a fortnight; and you are to be home in a fortnight, are you not, Alick?”
“Yes, yes, surely. Now then, good-bye!” he hastily exclaimed, giving her another tight hug and long kiss.
“You will write soon, Alick?” she said, following him to the front door.
“Very soon.”
“But I shall want to write to you every day, beginning this evening. Where shall I direct the first letter, Alick?”
“To the post-office at Richmond.”
“Then you will find one from me in Richmond the day after you get there.”
“Yes, yes, my darling! Thank you, pet! Good-bye! Good-bye! I have not an instant to lose,” he hurriedly exclaimed, wringing her hand and jumping into the carriage, upon which his luggage was already placed.
Leo, who was in the driver’s seat, cracked his whip and started his horses.
Drusilla watched the carriage out of sight, and then turned sadly and went into the house.
Alexander drove rapidly to the town, and first to a hack stand, where he had his luggage taken and put upon a hack. Then he sent Leo back to Cedarwood with his carriage, and he himself got into the hack and drove to his uncle’s hotel, where he found the old gentleman impatiently waiting for him.
And in an hour the whole family party had started on their voyage, and were steaming down the Potomac on their way to Richmond, where early the next morning they arrived safely.