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.”