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Chapter 2
Descriptive Statistics: Tabular and
Graphical Displays

Learning Objectives

1. Learn how to construct and interpret summarization procedures for qualitative data
such as: frequency and relative frequency distributions, bar graphs and pie charts.

2. Learn how to construct and interpret tabular summarization procedures for quantitative
data such as: frequency and relative frequency distributions, cumulative frequency and
cumulative relative frequency distributions.

3. Learn how to construct a dot plot and a histogram as graphical summaries of quantitative data.

4. Learn how the shape of a data distribution is revealed by a histogram. Learn how to recognize
when a data distribution is negatively skewed, symmetric, and positively skewed.

5. Be able to use and interpret the exploratory data analysis technique of a stem-and-leaf display.

6. Learn how to construct and interpret cross tabulations, scatter diagrams, side-by-side and
stacked bar charts.

7. Learn best practices for creating effective graphical displays and for choosing the
appropriate type of display.
 2-1
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May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2 Descriptive Statistics: Tabular and Graphical Displays

Solutions:

1.
Class Frequency Relative Frequency
A 60 60/120 = 0.50
B 24 24/120 = 0.20
C 36 36/120 = 0.30
120 1.00

2. a. 1 – (.22 + .18 + .40) = .20

b. .20(200) = 40
c/d.
Class Frequency Percent Frequency
A .22(200) = 44 22
B .18(200) = 36 18
C .40(200) = 80 40
D .20(200) = 40 20
Total 200 100

3. a. 360° x 58/120 = 174°

b. 360° x 42/120 = 126°

c.

No Opinion
16.7% No
35.0%

Yes
48.3%

2-2
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May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2 Descriptive Statistics: Tabular and Graphical Displays

d.

70
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
Yes No No Opinion

Response

4. a. These data are categorical.

b.
Relative
Show Frequency % Frequency
Jep 10 20
JJ 8 16
OWS 7 14
THM 12 24
WoF 13 26
Total 50 100

c.
14

12
n

y
e

10

0
Jep JJ OWS THM WoF
Syndicated Television Show

2-3
© 2015 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved.
May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2 Descriptive Statistics: Tabular and Graphical Displays

Syndicated Television Shows

Jep
WoF 20%
26%

JJ
16%
THM
24% OWS
14%

d. The largest viewing audience is for Wheel of Fortune and the second largest is for Two and a Half
Men.

5. a.
Relative Percent
Name Frequency Frequency Frequency
Brown 7 0.14 14%
Johnson 10 0.20 20%
Jones 7 0.14 14%
Miller 6 0.12 12%
Smith 12 0.24 24%
Williams 8 0.16 16%
Total: 50 1 100%

b.
Common U.S. Last Names
14
12
10
8
6
4
2
0
Brown Johnson Jones Miller Smith Williams
Name

2-4
© 2015 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved.
May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
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child, you have never thought of the subject.”
“Oh yes, dear sir, I have. In the first place, I have nearly fifteen
hundred dollars in money, left at home; that will keep us in
moderate comfort for two years, especially as I have abundance of
everything else on the premises—furniture, clothing and
provisions, in the house; and a kitchen garden, an orchard, poultry
yard and dairy, on the place. So, at the very worst, I could keep a
market farm,” smiled Drusilla.
“But in the meanwhile live alone, or with only your infant babe
and your servants?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I tell you, Drusilla, that you must not, shall not do so,”
repeated the General, with emphasis.
“Oh, sir, why would you hinder me?” she pleaded, lifting her
imploring eyes to his face.
“For your salvation, dear child,” he answered, very gently.
“But how for my salvation, dear uncle?”
“Drusilla, you cannot know, only heaven can know, how
difficult, how impossible it is for a young forsaken wife to live
alone and escape scandal.”
“But, dear sir, if I do right, and trust in the Lord, I have nothing
to fear.”
“Poor child! I must answer you in the words of another old bore,
as meddlesome as perhaps you think me. Be thou as chaste as ice,
as pure as snow, thou shall not escape calumny.”
“But, sir, in addition to all that, I mean to be very discreet, to
live very quietly with my little household, and to see no company
whatever, except you and Anna, if you should honor me with a
visit, and to make no visits except here.”
“But you must go to church sometimes; and when your babe is
ailing, you must see a doctor; also it will be necessary occasionally
to have your chimneys swept; and the tax-gatherer will make you
an annual visit.”
“Of course, dear sir,” she smiled.
“And yet you hope to preserve your good name?—Ah, my dear
child, no forsaken wife, living alone can do so, much less one so
very young and inexperienced as yourself. If the venomous ‘fangs
of malice’ can find no other hold upon you, they will assail you
through—the Christian minister who brings you religious
consolation for your sorrows; the family physician who attends
you in your illness, to save your life; to the legal adviser who
manages your business; the tax-gatherer, the chimney-sweep, or
anybody or everybody whom church, state, or need should call
into your house.”
“Ah, sir! that is very severe! I hope it is not as you think. I
believe better of the world than that,” said Drusilla.
“When the world has stung you nearly to death or to madness,
my dear, you may judge more truly and less tenderly of it. And
now, Drusilla, hear me. You do not go to Cedarwood; you do not
leave our protection until your husband claims you of us. Let the
subject drop here at once, and forever.”
Drusilla bowed her head in silence; but she was not the less
resolved at heart to return to Cedarwood, and risk all dangers, in
the hope that her husband might some day join her there.
But Destiny had decided Drusilla’s course in another direction.
The event that prevented her return to Cedarwood shall be
related in the next chapter.
 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.—B .

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 darling will always love me,
and when he grows up a tall, strong man, and I shall be an old and
infirm woman, he will love me more tenderly than before, because
I am old 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 Lord will spare 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 and ROARED as 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:
“C , Dec. 22, 18—.

“M :—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 you voluntarily 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.

“A L .”
 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 as well 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’s very little, 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. Now who is he
like?”
“He is the image of you, ma’am, and not another mortial in the
wide world,” repeated Leo, defiantly.
“How can you 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, I confess. 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 he has
sold 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 having ME and 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 the place 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 you must see 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! he has provided 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 how many 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. It is an 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 existed by
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.”
 CHAPTER V.
FORTUNE.

Fortune is merry,
And in this mood will give us anything—S .

So General Lyon answered the lawyers’ letters, and in a more

satisfactory manner, it is to be presumed, than Drusilla had ever
done. His illustrious name and exalted position were in
themselves enough to dispel any doubts that the mysterious
reticence of the heiress might have raised in the minds of her
solicitors.
Having sent his letter off to the post-office, and knowing that
several days must elapse before he could hear from the solicitors
again, the old gentleman dismissed the matter from his mind, and
addressed himself to the enjoyment of the Christmas festival now
at hand.
Dick arrived from Richmond on Christmas Eve, having in
charge several large boxes containing the Christmas presents.
Among them were the crib, the perambulator and the hobby
horse, which were all deposited for the present in the room
selected and fitted up by Anna, as the future play-room of little
Master Leonard Lyon.
Anna’s and Drusilla’s presents consisted of rich and costly furs
and shawls, from the General; and splendid jewels and delicate
laces from Dick.
The veteran’s gifts were a pair of soft, embroidered velvet
slippers and smoking-cap, from Anna; a warm quilted dressing-
gown from Drusilla; and a new patent reading-chair of unequalled
ingenuity, comfort and convenience, from Dick.
Dick’s presents were a fowling-piece of the most superior
workmanship, from his uncle; an embroidered cigar case from his
betrothed; and a smoking-cap from Drusilla.
Besides these, each male and female servant in the house was
made happy in the possession of a new and complete Sunday suit.
After the distribution of the presents on Christmas morning the
family went to church.
At the end of the service they returned to an early dinner, and
spent the afternoon and evening in social enjoyment.
As usual in the Christmas holidays, General Lyon gave one large
party, to which he invited all his friends and acquaintances for
thirty miles around.
And at this party he formally introduced Drusilla as:
“My niece, Mrs. Alexander Lyon.”
And this he did with so much quiet dignity, as in most cases to
repress all expression of surprise from those who could not fail to
wonder at such an introduction. And if any had the temerity to
utter their astonishment, they were courteously silenced by the
answer of the stately old gentleman.
“Old people cannot and ought not to choose for their sons in
affairs of the heart. I had hoped that my nephew and my
granddaughter would have married each other, for my sake; but I
was wrong. They have each chosen partners for their own sakes;
and they were right. Come here, Dick: Sir and madam, let me
present to you Mr. Richard Hammond as my future and well-
beloved grandson-in-law.”
After that what could the gossips say or do? Of course nothing
but bow, courtesy and congratulate; though some among them,
being maliciously inclined, and envying the young heiress of Old
Lyon Hall her beauty and her wealth, did shrug their shoulders
and raise their eyebrows as they whispered together: That it was
very strange Miss Lyon’s marriage being put off so frequently and
she herself at last passed so carelessly from one bridegroom to
another; and that it looked but too likely she would be an old maid
after all; for she was getting on well in years now!
A very false and spiteful conclusion this, as the beautiful Anna
was not yet twenty-three years old.
Some even had the ill-luck to inquire of the General, or of Anna,
or Dick:
“Where is Mr. Alexander Lyon now?”
But the quiet answer was always the same:
 “In Washington, attending to the sale of some real estate there.”
And the conversation would be quickly turned.
With the exception of these annoying questions, implied or
directly asked, and which General Lyon knew must be sooner or
later met and answered, and which he felt had best be settled at
once, the party passed off as pleasantly as any of its predecessors
had done.
On this occasion at least there was no failure upon account of
the weather. There never was a finer starlight winter night to
invite people out.
Nor was there any tampering with the lamps of the long
drawing-room; there never was seen a more brilliantly lighted and
warmed saloon to entice people in.
The music was inspiring; the dancing was animated, the supper
excellent. The festivities were kept up all night.
And did Drusilla enjoy the party?
Of course she did. Why not? She could love forever, but she
could not grieve forever. She was experiencing a delightful
reaction from her long depression of spirits. She was young and
beautiful, and formed to give and receive pleasure amid these
Christmas festivities. In a rich white moire antique dress,
delicately trimmed with black lace and black jet, she looked
exquisitely pretty. To please her friends and also a little to please
herself she danced—first with General Lyon, who led her to the
head of a set to open the ball; then with Dick, and afterwards with
any others whom her uncle introduced to her. And all who made
her acquaintance were charmed with the beauty and sweetness of
the lovely, childlike creature.
A refreshing breakfast was served at seven o’clock; after which,
the guests, well pleased, took leave and departed by the light of the
rising sun.
Early in the new year, “mammy,” well paid for her faithful
services and loaded with tokens of her patient’s good-will, took
leave of the family and of her fellow servants and left Old Lyon
Hall to return to her own home in Alexandria.
She was attended by Leo, who was commissioned to bring down
Pina and the birds, the dog, the cat, and the kittens; for to
mammy’s perfect content, the brother and sister were again to
enter together the service of Mrs. Lyon.
 “I have brought up my chillum respectable which it is allus my
pride and ambition so to do, and likewise to have them engaged in
service long o’ the old respectable, rustycratic families, which none
can be more so than the Lyonses of Old Lyon Hall, and that to my
sartain knowledge, which has heard of them ever since I was
born,” said mammy, on parting with her gossip, Marcy. “And I
hopes, ma’am,” she added, “if you sees my young people agoing
wrong, you’ll make so free for my sake as to correct them; which
their missus, the young madam, is much too gentle-hearted for to
do; but gives them their own head far too much.”
Marcy gave a promise to have an eye upon the boy and girl—a
promise she was but too likely to keep.
And so mammy departed, well pleased.
The very day she left, the wagons from Washington City,
containing Drusilla’s personal effects from Cedarwood, which had
been delayed by the bad condition of the roads, arrived at
Saulsburg.
General Lyon, being duly apprised of the circumstance by a
messenger from the “Foaming Tankard,” sent carts to meet them.
But more than one day was occupied with the removal.
For Alexander Lyon, either from pride, compunction, or a faint
revival of the old love, or from all these motives combined, had
sent down not only Drusilla’s wardrobe and books, but every
article of furniture that particularly appertained to her use. And all
these were very carefully packed, so as to sustain no injury from
the roughness of the roads over which they were brought.
There was first a whole wagon load of boxes filled with the rich
and costly wearing apparel with which he had overwhelmed her in
the days of his devotion.
Then there was another load composed of her mosaic work-
table, sewing chair, and footstool; her enameled writing-desk,
work-box and dressing-case; her favorite sleepy hollow of a
resting-chair; and other items too numerous to mention.
The third load comprised her sweet-toned cottage piano, her
harp, and her guitar.
It took two days to transport these things from Saulsburg to Old
Lyon Hall, and it took two more days to unpack and arrange them
all in Drusilla’s apartments.
 The fond and faithful young wife contemplated these dear
familiar objects with a strange blending of tenderness, regret and
hope. Each item was associated with some sweet memory of her
lost home and lost love. But even now she did not weep; she
smiled as she whispered to her heart:
“He does not know it, but he loves me still; and some day he will
come and tell me so. I can wait for that bright day, Alick, my Alick,
when I shall place my boy in your arms and tell you how in the
darkest hours I never ceased to love you and never doubted your
love!”
She was absorbed for a little while, and then once more she
murmured to herself in her beautiful reverie:
“For what would love be if darkness could obscure its light, or
wrong destroy its life?”
Ah! if this devoted young wife ever does succeed in WINNING HER
WAY to the heart and conscience of her husband, she will do it
through the power of her love and faith alone.
Before the week was out Drusilla had another pleasure, in the
arrival of Leo and Pina with her pets.
She received them all with gladness.
“Oh, ma’am,” exclaimed Pina, “but it does my very heart good to
see you looking so rosy and bright-eyed! And I’m just dying to see
young Master Leonard! And I am to be his nurse, ain’t I, ma’am?
And how is the dear little darling pet? And, oh, I am so glad to see
you looking so well and so happy!”
“I am very happy to see you also, Pina,” said Drusilla, when the
girl had stopped for want of breath. “I hope you left your mammy
well.”
“Oh, as well as possible, ma’am; but with baby on the brain as
sure as she lives, in regard to talking about little Master Leonard,
which she stands to it is the finest baby as ever she saw among the
hundreds and hundreds as she has had the honor of—of—of——”
Pina paused for want of words or breath.
“Of first introducing to their friends and relations,” added
Drusilla, laughingly coming to the girl’s relief.
“Yes, ma’am, that is the way to put it,” said Pina, approvingly.
“But please, ma’am, may I see little Master Leonard?” she pleaded,
eagerly.
 “Go with Matty first, Pina. She will show you the room where
you are to sleep, and which joins the nursery. Wash your face and
hands, and change your traveling dress for a clean one, and then
come to my chamber, which is on the other side of the nursery,
and I will show you our baby.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. I am a perfect show for dust
and dirt, I know, and in no state to go nigh a dainty little baby,”
said Pina, courtesying, and then following Matty from the sitting
parlor where this interview had taken place.
And thus Drusilla’s surroundings at Old Lyon Hall were soon
arranged to her perfect satisfaction.
 CHAPTER VI.
ENTERTAINING ANGELS.

Little can we tell, who share

Our household hearth of love and care;
Therefore with grave tenderness,
Should we strive to love and bless
All who live this little life,
Soothing sorrows, calming strife,
Lest we wrong some seraph here,
Who has left the starry sphere,
Exiled from the heavens above,
To fulfil some mortal love.—T. P .

In the course of the next week, one or more from every family
who had been invited to the Christmas party, called, and all who
did so, left cards also for Mrs. Alexander Lyon.
Besides this, Mrs. Colonel Seymour, the nearest neighbor and
most intimate friend of the Lyons, issued invitations for a large
party to come off on Twelfth Night. And the General, Anna,
Drusilla and Dick, each received one.
“What shall you wear, Drusilla?” inquired Anna, as the two
young women sat together looking at their cards.
“Dear Anna, I do not know that I shall go,” answered Drusilla,
gravely.
“Why not?”
“I have an instinctive feeling that I should live very quietly while
separated from my husband—live, in fact, as I should have lived, if
I had gone back to Cedarwood alone.”
“If you had gone back to Cedarwood alone, it would have been
eminently necessary for you to have lived the life of a hermit, to
save your reputation from utter ruin; and even then you could not
have saved your character from misconstruction and
misrepresentation. But now you are living with us, which makes
all the difference. Here you may freely enjoy all the social
pleasures natural to your youth. The most malignant stabber of
fair fame that ever lived would never dare to assail a lady who is a
member of General Lyon’s family,” said Anna, proudly. “And it
was to secure this freedom of action and these social enjoyments
to you, no less than to shield you from danger that my dear
grandfather so firmly insisted on your remaining with us,” she
added.
“Oh, how can I be grateful enough to him for all his loving
kindness to me? Oh, Anna, under Divine Providence, he has been
my salvation!” exclaimed Drusilla her face beaming with gratitude
and affection.
“I am very glad you came here as you did, my dear and gave him
the opportunity of doing what he has done. He has a great large
heart, and not objects enough to fill it. He is very fond of you and
your boy, and your presence here makes him happier. But ‘to
return to our muttons’—about this party at the Seymours. Now, as
to your scruples about going into company, instead of living
secluded on account of Alexander’s desertion,—dismiss them at
once. Leaning on my grandfather’s arm,—for he is to be your
escort, and Dick mine,—you can go anywhere with safety. But, if
there is any other reason why you do not wish to go to the
Seymours, of course you can stay at home. We wish you to use the
most perfect freedom of action, my dear Drusilla, and we will only
interfere when we see you inclined to immolate yourself upon the
pagan altar of your idol. So, in the matter of the party, pray do as
you please.”
“Then, if you and uncle think it right, I would like very much to
go with you. I enjoy parties. I enjoyed ours very much.”
“I should think you did. You are not seventeen years old yet, and
all your social pleasures are to come. You were the beauty of the
evening, my little cousin.”
“Oh no, Anna, oh, no, no, no, Anna! that I never could be where
you are!” exclaimed Drusilla, blushing intensely with the
earnestness of her denial.
“Nonsense! I am an old maid. I am quite passée. I am nearly
twenty-three years old, and have been out five seasons!” laughed
Anna, with the imperious disdain of her own words with which a
conscious beauty sometimes says just such things.
 “Oh, Anna, Anna, how can you say such things of yourself? I
would not let any one else say them of you, Anna! Why, Anna, you
know you moved through your grandfather’s halls that night a
perfect queen of beauty. There was no one who could at all equal
or approach you!”
“Nonsense, I say! I overheard several people say that I was not
looking so well as usual—that I had seen my best days, and so
forth.”
“They were envious and spiteful people whom you had eclipsed,
Anna, and, if I had heard them, I should have given them to know
it!”
“You, you little pigeon, can you peck?” laughed Anna.
“Pigeons can peck, and sharply too, I assure you. And I should
have pecked any one whom I heard saying impertinent things of
you; but I heard nothing of the sort—I heard only praises and
admiration. But there! I declare you ought not to disparage
yourself so as to oblige me to tell the truth about you to your face,
for, in this case, truth is high praise, and it is perfectly odious to
have to praise a friend to her face,” said Drusilla.
“I agree with you. So, if you will let me have the last word and
say that you really were the beauty of our ball, I will consent to
drop the subject. And now for the other one! So you would like to
go to the Seymours?”
“Yes, very much, for I enjoy parties. I do not think I should like
to go to one every day or even every week; but once or twice a
month I really should enjoy them.”
“What a moderate little belle! Well, and now comes the next
important question. What are we to wear? Unluckily we cannot
order the carriage and drive down the street to the most
fashionable modistes and inspect the newest styles of dress goods
and head-dresses and all that, as if we were in the city. We are in
the country, and must make our toilet from what we have got in
the house. Heigh ho! it is a great bore, being so far away from
shops.”
“But, oh, Anna, we have got so much in the house. Think of your
magnificent trousseau, with scarcely one of your many dresses
touched yet.”
“That is all very well. But you know they were made and
trimmed between two and six months ago; and every week
something new in the way of trimmings and head-dresses comes
up in town. However, we must do the best we can. It is a country
ball and all the guests will be in the same case, that is one
comfort.”
“Not one of them will be so well off as you are with your
trousseau.”
“That is true, and that is another comfort, a very selfish one
however. Well, let me see, I think I will wear my light blue taffeta,
with a white illusion over it, looped up with bluebells and lilies of
the valley, with a wreath of the same. How will that do?”
“It will be very pretty and tasteful.”
“And you, my darling? What have you to wear? You know my
dresses fit you, and my wardrobe is quite at your service.”
“Thanks, dear Anna; but I have a great plenty of dresses that
have never been worn, and of dress goods that have never been
made up. In the first weeks of our married life my dear Alick
bought every rich and pretty thing he could lay his hands on for
me.”
“Very well, then. What shall you wear?”
“You know that being in the second year of my mourning, I am
restricted to black and white. I think a black illusion over black
silk, with the sleeves and bosom edged with ruches of white
illusion; pearl necklace and bracelets, and half open white moss
roses in my hair and on my bosom; white kid gloves and a white
fan. There, Anna dear, I have given you a complete description of
my intended toilet.”
“And nothing could be prettier. Here comes grandpapa!”
And at that moment the old gentleman entered the room.
“Well, my dears, if we are immured in the country at this festive
season of the year, we are not likely to be very dull, are we?”
smiled the old gentleman, holding out his card.
“No indeed, sir; that we are not! But what do you think of
Drusilla here? She was really meditating upon the propriety of
giving up all society, and living the life of a recluse,” said Anna,
mischievously.
“Well, if such a life is so much to her taste, we have no sort of
right to object,” the old man replied, in the same spirit of raillery.
“But it is not to her taste. Drusilla is formed by nature and
disposition to enjoy all innocent social pleasures. But she
imagined that in her peculiar circumstances it became her duty to
retire from the world altogether.”
The veteran turned his clear eyes kindly on his protégée, and
taking her hand, said:
“My dear child, when I gave you a daughter’s place in my heart
and home, and took a father’s position towards you, I became
responsible for the safety of your fair fame as well as for your
person. Both are perfectly secure under my protection. No one will
venture to assail the one more than the other. Go wherever Anna
goes, enjoy all that she enjoys. It is even well that you should have
the harmless recreations natural to your youth, and that she
should have a companion of her own sex. And I shall always be
your escort.”
Drusilla pressed the old man’s hand to her heart and lips; it was
her usual way of thanking him.
And this quite settled the question, if it had not been settled
before.
When Twelfth Day came, Anna and Drusilla, beautifully attired
in the dresses they had decided upon, and escorted by General
Lyon, and Dick, went to the Seymours’ party.
As at the Christmas ball, Drusilla’s beauty created a great
sensation; not, indeed, that she was more beautiful than Miss
Lyon, but her beauty was of a fresher type. As before, General
Lyon was her first partner, and Richard Hammond her second.
And after that, there was great rivalry among the candidates for
the honor of her hand. But she danced only quadrilles; and only
with those presented to her by her uncle. This ball, like all country
balls was kept up all night. But General Lyon’s age and Drusilla’s
maternal solicitude, both rendered it expedient that they should
retire early. So a few minutes after twelve, the old gentleman and
his protégée took leave, promising that the coachman should have
orders to return at daylight and fetch Anna and Dick home.
After this followed other parties given by the country gentry.
And to all of them the Lyons were invited, and in all the invitations
Drusilla was included. And the lovely young wife was admired by
all who saw her, and beloved by those who came to know her well.
Occasionally, embarrassing questions were asked by those who
had more curiosity than tact, but they were always skilfully parried
by the party to whom they were put.
 For instant, when some old crony would venture to ask the
General how it was that Mr. Alick had married this clergyman’s
orphan daughter when all the world supposed him to be about to
marry his cousin Anna, the General would answer as before:
“That projected marriage was a plan of mine and of my
brother’s; and as it was based upon our own wishes rather than on
the affections of our young people, it did not succeed, and did not
deserve to do so. The aged cannot choose for the young in affairs
of the heart. My nephew married this charming girl privately one
year ago, and the ceremony was repeated publicly in my house two
months since. I gave the bride away. And I am very much charmed
with my niece. My granddaughter Anna, and my grandnephew,
Richard Hammond, will be united in a few months.”
“But where is the happy bridegroom now?” might be the next
question.
“Alexander is in Washington negotiating the sale of real estate,”
would be the answer.
Sometimes a troublesome questioner, in the form of some
young friend or companion would assail Anna, in some such way
as this:
“Well, we were never more surprised in our lives than when we
found out that Alick Lyon had married a parson’s daughter
without a penny. We thought you were going to take him, Anna?”
“But I preferred Dick,” would be Anna’s frank reply.
“Then I suppose he married the clergyman’s daughter in a fit of
pique.”
“Not at all; it was in a fit of love.”
“And she quite penniless.”
“I beg your pardon, she is a very wealthy woman.”
“What! the clergyman’s daughter?”
“Yes, for she is a billionaire’s niece, and a sole heiress.”
“Oh! then it was a mercenary match?”
“Not at all, for he knew nothing of her fortune when he married
her. And now, also, please remember you are speaking of my
cousins.”
“Beg your pardon, Anna! I mean no harm; and you know you
and I are such old, old friends!”
 Very often it would be Richard Hammond who would be called
to the witness stand with a—
“Hillo, Dick! so you are a lucky dog after all! How was it now?
Come, tell us all about it! Did you cut Alick out with Anna, or did
the pretty little parson’s daughter cut Anna out with Alick?”
“Each one of us cut all the others out,” Dick would reply, with
owl-like gravity.
“Eh? what? stop, don’t go away! How can that be? We don’t
understand!”
“Well, if you don’t that’s your look out. I can’t make you
understand.”
And so Dick would turn off impertinent inquiry.
Fortunately, also, everywhere Drusilla’s face and manners
inspired perfect confidence and warm esteem. No one could look
on her, or hear her speak, and doubt her goodness.
“It is very queer. There’s a screw loose somewhere; but whoever
may be wrong, she is all right,” was the verdict of the
neighborhood in the young wife’s favor.
Meanwhile a very brisk correspondence went on between
General Lyon on one part, and Messrs. Heneage and Kent
(Drusilla’s lawyers) on the other. The General soon convinced the
legal gentlemen that Anna Drusilla Lyon, born Stirling, was the
heiress of whom they were in search.
Still, where so much was at stake, they were bound to be very
cautious and to receive nothing, not the very smallest fact, upon
trust.
So, though General Lyon very seldom troubled Drusilla with this
correspondence, he did sometimes feel obliged to come to her for
information as to where a certain important witness was to be
found; in what cemetery a particular tombstone was to be looked
for; or in what parish church such a marriage had been
solemnized, or such a baptism administered.
And Drusilla’s prompt and pointed answers very much cleared
and expedited the business.
In a more advanced stage of affairs it seemed that she would
have to go up to Baltimore; but General Lyon would not hear of
her taking any trouble that he could save her; so he wrote to the
legal gentlemen, requesting one of the firm to come down to Old
Lyon Hall in person, or to send a confidential clerk, and promising
to pay all expenses of traveling, loss of time, and so forth.
In answer to this letter, Mr. Kent, the junior partner, arrived at
the old hall early in February.
He was armed with a formidable bag of documents and he was
closeted all day long with General Lyon in the study.
One can have no secrets from one’s lawyer any more than from
one’s physician or confessor; and so General Lyon felt constrained
to tell Mr. Kent of the existing estrangement between the heiress
and her husband.
“And what I particularly wish,” said the General, confidentially
and earnestly, “is that the whole of this large inheritance, coming
as it does from her family, may be secured to her separate use,
independently of her husband.”
“And that, you are aware, cannot be done, except though a
process of law. She must sue for a separate maintenance. Even in
such a case I doubt whether the court would adjudge her the
whole of this enormous fortune, or even the half of it. Still it is her
only resource,” answered Lawyer Kent.
“A resource she will never resort to. It would be vain and worse
than vain to suggest it to her. She worships her husband; and it is
through no fault of hers that they are estranged. Indeed it was
through consideration for him that she was so reticent last year, as
to raise suspicions in your mind that her claim to the estate was an
unjustly assumed one.... No, Mr. Kent, we must take some other
course to secure the inheritance to her, and without saying a word
to her on the subject either.”
“There is no other way, sir, but by such a suit as I have
suggested.”
“Pardon me I think there is. Mr. Alexander Lyon has deserted
his wife and child and failed to provide for them. Such is not the
course of an honorable man. Still, as some of the same sort of
blood that warms my own old heart runs also in his veins, there
must be some little sense of honor sleeping somewhere in his
system. We must awaken it and appeal to it. He must of his own
free will make over all his right, title and interest in this
inheritance to his injured young wife.”
“Does he know of this inheritance, sir?”
“Not one word, I think.”
 “Do you believe that he will act as you wish?”
“I have not the least doubt of it. Without this fortune of his wife,
he is as rich as Crœsus; and he is also as proud as Lucifer. Having
discarded her, he would not touch a penny of her money, if it was
to save his own life or hers. So it is not because I think he would
waste, or even use her means, that I wish her fortune settled upon
herself, but because I wish her to be totally independent of him
and to be able to do her own will with her own money.”
“I see,” said Mr. Kent. “Where is Mr. Alexander Lyon now?”
“In Washington City, where I would like you to call upon and
apprise him of this large inheritance and of our wishes in regard to
it.”
“I will do so with pleasure. Pray give me your instructions at
large, and also a letter of introduction to Mr. Lyon.”
“I had almost sworn never to hold any communication with that
man again. But for his wife’s dear sake I will write the letter. And
now Mr. Kent, there is our first dinner-bell. Allow me to ring for a
servant, who will show you to a chamber prepared for you. I will
await you here and take you to the dining-room.”
The dust-covered lawyer bowed his thanks and followed the
servant who was called to attend him.
At dinner that day, the lawyer, for the first time met his
beautiful client, Mrs. Alexander Lyon. And with all his experience
of mankind, great was his wonder that any man in his sober senses
could have abandoned such a lovely young creature.
Mr. Kent stayed two days at Old Lyon Hall, and then, primed
with instructions and with a letter to Alexander, he left for
Washington and Baltimore.
It happened just as General Lyon had predicted.
Alexander, sulking at his apartments in one of the most
fashionable hotels in the Capital, received the lawyer’s visit and his
uncle’s letter.
He was immeasurably astonished at the announcement of his
wife’s inheritance of an enormous fortune. At first, indeed, he
listened to the intelligence with scornful incredulity; but when
convinced beyond all doubt of the truth, his amazement was
unbounded. He had never before heard of the California
billionaire, and could not now realize the fact that poor Drusilla
was a great heiress. He scarcely succeeded in concealing from the
lawyer the excess of his amazement. He was, literally, almost
“stunned” by the news.
The lawyer’s time was precious; so, barely giving Mr. Alexander
a minute to recover his lost breath, and acting upon General
Lyon’s instructions he proposed to the husband to resign the
whole of her newly-inherited wealth to his discarded wife.
Alexander arose, a proud disdain curling his lips and flashing
from his eyes, and answered haughtily:
“Unquestionably, sir! Prepare the proper papers with your
utmost despatch. I had intended to sail for Europe in Saturday’s
steamer, but I will forfeit my passage and wait here until these
deeds shall be executed; for I could no more bear to hold an hour’s
interest in her inheritance than I could bear any other sort of
ignominy. How soon can the documents be ready?”
Mr. Kent could not tell within a day or two—lawyers never can,
you know. But he engaged to prepare them very early in the next
week, in time for Mr. Lyon to embark upon his voyage on the
following Saturday.
And so Lawyer Kent went on his way to Baltimore musing:
“He is a splendid fellow, and she is a sweet young creature; they
are an admirable pair! What the mischief can have come between
them?—ah, the devil, of course!”
Mr. Kent was as good as his word. On Tuesday morning, he
placed the requisite deeds in the hands of Mr. Lyon, who, in the
presence of several witnesses and before a notary-public, formally
signed, sealed, and delivered them again into the custody of the
lawyer.
And, on Thursday evening, Mr. Kent arrived at Old Lyon Hall,
to announce the successful termination of the whole business, and
to congratulate his client on her accession to one of the largest
fortunes in America.
“And I think, my dear,” whispered General Lyon to his protégée,
“that you cannot better show your sense of these gentlemen’s zeal
in your cause than by making them your agents in the
management of your financial affairs.”
“I perfectly agree with you, my dear uncle. Tell them so, please,”
replied Drusilla.
And so it was arranged; and Mr. Kent went on his way rejoicing,
“having made a good thing of it.”
 “And Alick has signed over to me all his material interest in my
fortune! Well, I know he did not need any part of it; but he would
have been welcome, oh, so heartily welcome, to the whole. At
most, I only should have wanted enough to buy back dear
Cedarwood,” said Drusilla to her gossip, Anna, as they sat together
in the nursery.
“He did right. How could he have done otherwise under the
circumstances? Even you, with all your loving faith, must have
despised him if, after forsaking you, he had taken any part of your
fortune,” said Anna.
Drusilla blushed intensely, at the bare supposition that her Alick
could do anything to make her loyal heart despise him, and she
answered warmly:
“But he did not do it! He would never do such a thing. If my
Alick has ever erred it has been under the influence of some great
passion amounting almost to madness! He would not do wrong in
cold blood.”
Anna did not gainsay her. Miss Lyon had quite given up arguing
with the young wife on the subject of her husband’s merits. If
Drusilla had chosen to assert that Alexander was the wisest of
sages, the bravest of heroes and the best of saints, Anna would not
openly have differed with her. But now she turned the
conversation from his merits to his movements.
“Alick sails for Europe to-morrow,” she said.
“Yes, so Mr. Kent says. But do you know what steamer he goes
in, Anna? Mr. Kent did not happen to name it, and I shrank from
asking him.”
“There is but one—the Erie. I suppose, of course, he goes on
that. However, on Monday we shall get the New York papers, and
then we can examine the list of passengers, and see if his name is
among them,” said Anna.
And with that answer the young wife had to rest satisfied.
 CHAPTER VII.
HALCYON DAYS.

A course of days, composing happy weeks,

And they as happy months; the day is still
So like the last, as all so firm a pledge
Of a congenial future, that the wheels
Of pleasure move without the aid of hope.—W .

Very early on Monday morning Jacob Junior was dispatched to

Saulsburg to meet the mail and fetch the papers. The messenger
was so diligent that he brought in the bag and delivered it to his
master while the family sat at breakfast.
There were no letters for anybody, but all the last Saturday’s
papers had come.
General Lyon distributed them. A New York evening journal fell
to Anna’s share. She turned immediately to look for the news of
the outward bound steamers. She soon found what she was in
search of. And as Alick’s name was still a tacitly dropped word in
the presence of her grandfather, she silently passed the paper to
Drusilla, and pointed to the list of passengers for Liverpool who
sailed by the Erie, from New York, on the Saturday previous.
Drusilla looked and read among them:
“Mr. Alexander Lyon and two servants.”
Drusilla nodded and smiled, saying in a low voice:
“It is better so, for the present. I hope that he will enjoy himself
and come home in a happier frame of mind.”
“Of whom are you speaking, my child?” inquired the General,
raising his eyes from a report of the last great debate in the Senate.
“Of Alick. He sailed in the Erie for Liverpool on last Saturday,”
answered Drusilla, quite calmly.