“Poor girl! how thoughtless of me to have forgotten her! Go to bed, Pina, it is half-past twelve,” said Drusilla, kindly. And the maid, still more than half asleep, tumbled off to her cot in a closet adjoining her mistress’s chamber. Anna also arose, and, bidding Drusilla good-night, passed to her own room. Drusilla went to bed, but not to sleep. She lay revolving the problem that Anna had left her to solve. Should she enter London society _at all_ under her present circumstances? As yet, neither her party nor herself had gone to any sort of private entertainment. They had left cards on the people to whom the General had letters of introduction. And they had received calls from many of them. Also they had many notes of invitation to dinners, balls, concerts, and fêtes of every description; but, as yet, none of these notes had fallen due. So Drusilla stood uncommitted to the world by either name or title. Now the question with her was this,—Should she go to parties at all? If she should, she was resolved it should be only under her simple name. But then, if being the wife of Lord Killcrichtoun, she should go only as Mrs. Lyon, would she not be, as Anna said, appearing under false colors? Would it not be better, all things considered, that she should live secluded? Ah, but then Alexander was in the world, and the temptation to go where she might enjoy the happiness of seeing him daily, even though he should never speak to her, was irresistible! She could not deny herself that delight. Then, finally, she determined to speak to her old friend, General Lyon, on the subject; and with her mind more at ease, she fell asleep. CHAPTER XIX. MEETING EVERY DAY. We that were friends, yet are not now, We that must daily meet, With ready words and courteous bow, Acquaintance of the street, We must not scorn the holy past, We must remember still To honor feelings that outlast The reason and the will.—MILNES. Next morning, over an early breakfast, our party discussed, with their tea, toast, muffins, and fried soles, the programme of the week. How crowded their life in London was getting to be. Every day, every hour, nay, every moment, we might say, pre-engaged! “We go to Westminster Abbey first. The Seymours are to go with us, and are to join us here at ten o’clock. It is After nine now,” said the General, as he chipped his egg.