“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.—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 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.