“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: