“Ah! may heaven forgive me for being so forgetful, so ungrateful as to say that I had no one but my Anna left me in the world, when I have little Lenny and his dear mother,” said the old man, pressing the child to his bosom, and drawing Drusilla to his side. “But oh! my dear, you know how it is—how it always has been, and always will be with poor human nature in all such cases. The shepherd of the Scripture parable. He thought not of his ninety and nine sheep, safe in the fold, but he mourned for the one lost.” “But Anna is not lost to you, dear uncle. She is only lost to sight, and that only for a little while. Think, dear uncle, in the marriage of Anna and Dick you have not lost a daughter, but gained a son.” “That is true, my dear.” “Think how devoted they are to you. They are as loyal to you as subjects to a sovereign.” “I know—I know.” “They will never leave you unless you send them away.” “I know; I see what a morbid old fellow I have been.” “No, no, not so, I think. Surely it is very natural that you should have such feelings; but it is also very desirable that you should rally from them.” “And I will, my dear, I will.” Little Leonard, fatigued by his former exertions, and perhaps also a little awed by the solemnity of the discourse, had remained still for at least three minutes. But now he recommenced to prance and dance and express his impatience in every possible way that a baby of six months old could. “You are almost too much for my stiff old arms, little fellow!” smiled the General, as he supported the leaping baby. “Come, let us go to my room and have some tea,” said Drusilla, rising and leading the way, followed by the old man with the child over his shoulder. “This is snug, this is cozy, this is really very comfortable indeed,” said the General, as he followed Drusilla into the pretty, cheerful sitting-room and saw the bright fire and the neat tea-table. “Yes, this is pleasant after our day of excitement. Now kiss little Leonard good-night and let him go to sleep,” said Drusilla, as she rang her little silver hand-bell. Pina came in to take little Leonard, who leaped to meet her arms, for he was very fond of her. General Lyon pressed the babe to his bosom and kissed him fondly, and then handed him over to his nurse, who bore him off to the nursery. Then Marcy came in with the tea urn. Drusilla made tea for the old gentleman. The sound of Pina’s rocking-chair and cradle-song came soothingly to their ears, as to the child’s for which they were intended. “This is very sweet and peaceful, dear, and I thank you for it all,” said the General, softly smiling. “No, but, dear uncle, it is all your own; and it is I who should thank you for the happiness of sharing it,” quietly replied Drusilla. “No, no, no,” said the General, shaking his head. “Yes, yes, yes,” laughed the little lady.