“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.