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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18687-8.txt b/18687-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af4a230 --- /dev/null +++ b/18687-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15707 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Daisy, by Elizabeth Wetherell + +****************************************************************** +THERE IS ANOTHER EDITION IN HTML OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY BE VIEWED +AS EBOOK (# 27949) at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27949 +****************************************************************** + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Daisy + + +Author: Elizabeth Wetherell + + + +Release Date: June 26, 2006 [eBook #18687] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY*** + + +Warner, Susan, 1819-1885, Daisy, 1868, Ward Lock edition n.d. + + +Produced by Daniel FROMONT + + + +DAISY + +BY +ELIZABETH WETHERELL + +AUTHOR OF +"THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," "QUEECHY," +ETC., ETC. + + + +LONDON : + +WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED + +NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER I. MISS PINSHON + +CHAPTER II. MY HOME + +CHAPTER III. THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE + +CHAPTER IV. SEVEN HUNDRED PEOPLE + +CHAPTER V. IN THE KITCHEN + +CHAPTER VI. WINTER AND SUMMER + +CHAPTER VII. SINGLEHANDED + +CHAPTER VIII. EGYPTIAN GLASS + +CHAPTER IX. SHOPPING + +CHAPTER X. SCHOOL + +CHAPTER XI. A PLACE IN THE WORLD + +CHAPTER XII. FRENCH DRESSES + +CHAPTER XIII. GREY COATS + +CHAPTER XIV. YANKEES + +CHAPTER XV. FORT PUTNAM + +CHAPTER XVI. HOPS + +CHAPTER XVII. OBEYING ORDERS + +CHAPTER XVIII. SOUTH AND NORTH + +CHAPTER XIX. ENTERED FOR THE WAR + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MISS PINSHON. + +I want an excuse to myself for writing my own life; an excuse +for the indulgence of going it all over again, as I have so +often gone over bits. It has not been more remarkable than +thousands of others. Yet every life has in it a thread of +present truth and possible glory. Let me follow out the truth +to the glory. + +The first bright years of my childhood I will pass. They were +childishly bright. They lasted till my eleventh summer. Then +the light of heavenly truth was woven in with the web of my +mortal existence; and whatever the rest of the web has been, +those golden threads have always run through it all the rest +of the way. Just as I reached my birthday that summer and was +ten years old, I became a Christian. + +For the rest of that summer I was a glad child. The brightness +of those days is a treasure safe locked up in a chamber of my +memory. I have known other glad times too in my life; other +times of even higher enjoyment. But among all the dried +flowers of my memory, there is not one that keeps a fresher +perfume or a stronger scent of its life than this one. Those +were the days without cloud; before life shadows had begun to +cast their blackness over the landscape. And even though such +shadows do go as well as come, and leave the intervals as sun- +lit as ever; yet, after that change of the first life shadow +is once seen, it is impossible to forget that it may come +again and darken the sun. I do not mean that the days, of that +summer were absolutely without things to trouble me; I had +changes of light and shade; but on the whole, nothing that did +not heighten the light. They were pleasant days I had in +Juanita's cottage at the time when my ankle was broken; there +were hours of sweetness with crippled Molly; and it was simply +delight I had all alone with my pony Loupe, driving over the +sunny and shady roads, free to do as I liked and go where I +liked. And how I enjoyed studying English history with my +cousin Preston. It is all stowed away in my heart, as fresh +and sweet as at first. I will not pull it out now. The change, +and my first real life shadow came, when my father was thrown +from his horse and injured his head. Then the doctors decided +he must go abroad and travel, and mamma decided it was best +that I should go to Magnolia with aunt Gary and have a +governess. + +There is no pleasure in thinking of those weeks. They went +very slowly, and yet very fast; while I counted every minute +and noted every step in the preparations. They were all over +at last; my little world was gone from me; and I was left +alone with aunt Gary. + +Her preparations had been made too; and the day after the +steamer sailed we set off on our journey to the south. I do +not know much about that journey. For the most part the things +by the way were like objects in a mist to me and no more +clearly discerned. Now and then there came a rift in the mist; +something woke me up out of my sorrow-dream; and of those +points and of what struck my eyes at those minutes I have a +most intense and vivid recollection. I can feel yet the still +air of one early morning's start, and hear the talk between my +aunt and the hotel people about the luggage. My aunt was a +great traveller and wanted no one to help her or manage for +her. I remember acutely a beggar who spoke to us on the +sidewalk at Washington. We staid over a few days in +Washington, and then hurried on; for when she was on the road +my aunt Gary lost not a minute. We went, I presume, as fast as +we could without travelling all night; and our last day's +journey added that too. + +By that time my head was getting steadied, perhaps, from the +grief which had bewildered it; or grief was settling down and +taking its proper place at the bottom of my heart, leaving the +surface as usual. For twelve hours that day we went by a slow +railway train through a country of weary monotony. Endless +forests of pine seemed all that was to be seen; scarce ever a +village; here and there a miserable clearing and forlorn- +looking house; here and there stoppages of a few minutes to +let somebody out or take somebody in; once, to my great +surprise, a stop of rather more than a few minutes to +accommodate a lady who wanted some flowers gathered for her. I +was surprised to see flowers wild in the woods at that time of +year, and much struck with the politeness of the railway train +that was willing to delay for such a reason. We got out of the +car for dinner, or for a short rest at dinner-time. My aunt +had brought her lunch in a basket. Then the forests and the +rumble of the cars began again. At one time the pine forests +were exchanged for oak, I remember; after that, nothing but +pine. + +It was late in the day, when we left the cars at one of those +solitary wayside station-houses. I shall never forget the look +and feeling of the place. We had been for some miles going +through a region of swamp or swampy woods, where sometimes the +rails were laid on piles in the water. This little station- +house was in the midst of such a region. The woods were thick +and tangled with vines everywhere beyond the edge of the +clearing; the ground was wet beneath them and in places showed +standing water. There was scarcely a clearing; the forest was +all round the house; with only the two breaks in it where on +one side and on the other the iron rail track ran off into the +distance. It was a lonely place; almost nobody was there +waiting for the train; one or two forlorn coloured people and +a long lank-looking countryman, were all. Except what at first +prevented my seeing anything else — my cousin Preston. He met +me just as I was going to get down from the car; lifted me to +the platform; and then with his looks and words almost broke +up the composure which for several days had been growing upon +me. It was not hardened yet to bear attacks. I was like a poor +shell-fish, which having lost one coat of armour and defence, +craves a place of hiding and shelter for itself until its new +coat be grown. While he was begging me to come into the +station-house and rest, I stood still looking up the long line +of railway by which we had come, feeling as if my life lay at +the other end of it, out of sight and quite beyond reach. Yet +I asked him not to call me "poor" Daisy. I was very tired, and +I suppose my nerves not very steady. Preston said we must wait +at that place for another train; there was a fork in the road +beyond, and this train would not go the right way. It would +not take us to Baytown. So he had me into the station-house. + +It wearied me, and so did all that my eyes lighted upon, +strange though it was. The bare room, not clean; the board +partition, with swinging doors, behind which, Preston said, +were the cook and the baker; the untidy waiting girls that +came and went, with scant gowns and coarse shoes, and no +thread of white collar to relieve the dusky throat and head +rising out of the dark gown; and no apron at all. Preston did +what he could. He sent away the girls with their trays of +eatables; he had a table pulled out from the wall and wiped +off; and then he ordered a supper of eggs, and johnny cake, +and all sorts of things. But I could not eat. As soon as +supper was over I went out on the platform to watch the long +lines of railway running off through the forest, and wait for +the coming train. The evening fell while we looked; the train +was late; and at last when it came I could only know it in the +distance by the red spark of its locomotive gleaming like a +firefly. + +It was a freight train; there was but one passenger car, and +that was full. We got seats with difficulty, and apart from +each other. I hardly know whether that, or anything, could +have made me more forlorn. I was already stiff and weary with +the twelve hours of travelling we had gone through that day; +inexpressibly weary in heart. It seemed to me that I could not +endure long the rumble and the jar and the closeness of this +last car. The passengers, too, had habits which made me draw +my clothes as tight around me as I could, and shrink away +mentally into the smallest compass possible. I had noticed the +like, to be sure, ever since we left Washington; but to-night, +in my weary, faint, and tired-out state of mind and body, +every unseemly sight or sound struck my nerves with a sense of +pain that was hardly endurable. I wondered if the train would +go on all night; it went very slowly. And I noticed that +nobody seemed impatient or had the air of expecting that it +would soon find its journey's end. I felt as if I could not +bear it many half hours. My next neighbour was a fat, good- +natured old lady, who rather made matters worse by putting her +arm round me and hugging me up, and begging me to make a +pillow of her and go to sleep. My nerves were twitching with +impatience and the desire for relief; when suddenly the +thought came to me that I might please the Lord by being +patient. I remember what a lull the thought of Him brought; +and yet how difficult it was not to be impatient, till I fixed +my mind on some Bible words, — they were the words of the +twenty-third psalm, — and began to think and pray them over. +So good they were, that by and by they rested me. I dropped +asleep and forgot my aches and weariness until the train +arrived at Baytown. + +They took me to a hotel then, and put me to bed, and I did not +get up for several days. I must have been feverish; for my +fancies wandered incessantly in unknown places with papa, in +regions of the old world; and sometimes, I think, took both +him and myself to rest and home where wanderings are over. +After a few days this passed away. I was able to come +downstairs; and both Preston and his mother did their best to +take good care of me. Especially Preston. He brought me books, +and fruit and birds to tempt me to eat; and was my kind and +constant companion when his mother was out, and indeed when +she was in, too. So I got better, by the help of oranges and +rice-birds. I could have got better faster, but for my dread +of a governess which was hanging over me. I heard nothing +about her, and could not bear to ask. One day Preston brought +the matter up and asked if Daisy was going to have a +schoolmistress? + +"Certainly," my aunt Gary said. "She must be educated, you +know." + +"_I_ don't know," said Preston; "but if they say so, I suppose +she must. Who is it to be, mamma?" + +"You do not know anything about it," said aunt Gary. "If my +son was going to marry the greatest heiress in the State — and +she is very nearly that; — goodness! I did not see you were +there, Daisy, my dear; but it makes no difference; — I should +think it proper that she should be educated." + +"I can't see what her being an heiress should have to do with +it," said Preston, — "except rather to make it unnecessary as +well as a bore. Who is it, mamma?" + +"I have recommended Miss Pinshon." + +"Oh, then, it is not fixed yet." + +"Yes, it is fixed. Miss Pinshon is coming as soon as we get to +Magnolia." + +"I'll be off before that," said Preston. "Who is Miss +Pinshon?" + +"How should _you_ know? She has lived at Jessamine Bank, — +educated the Dalzell girls." + +"What sort of a person, mamma?" + +"What sort of a person?" said my aunt Gary; "why, a governess +sort of person. What sort should she be?" + +"Any other sort in the world," said Preston, "for my money. +That is just the sort to worry poor little Daisy out of her +life." + +"You are a foolish boy!" said aunt Gary. "Of course, if you +fill Daisy's head with notions, she will not get them out +again. If you have anything of that sort to say, you had +better say it where she will not hear." + +"Daisy has eyes — and a head," said Preston. + +As soon as I was able for it Preston took me out for short +walks; and as I grew stronger he made the walks longer. The +city was a strange place to me; very unlike New York; there +was much to see and many a story to hear; and Preston and I +enjoyed ourselves. Aunt Gary was busy making visits, I think. +There was a beautiful walk by the sea, which I liked best of +all; and when it was not too cold my greatest pleasure was to +sit there looking over the dark waters and sending my whole +soul across them to that unknown spot where my father and +mother were. "Home," that spot was to me. Preston did not know +what I liked the Esplanade for; he sometimes laughed at me for +being poetical and meditative; when I was only sending my +heart over the water. But he was glad to please me in all that +he could; and whenever it was not too cold, our walks always +took me there. + +One day, sitting there, I remember we had a great argument +about studying. Preston began with saying that I must not mind +this governess that was coming, nor do anything she bade me +unless I liked it. As I gave him no answer, he repeated what +he had said. + +"You know, Daisy, you are not obliged to care what she +thinks." + +I said I thought I was. + +"What for?" said Preston. + +"I have a great deal to learn, you know," I said, feeling it +very gravely indeed in my little heart. + +"What do you want to know so much?" said Preston. + +I said, "everything". I was very ignorant. + +"You are no such thing," said Preston. "Your head is full this +minute. I think you have about as much knowledge as is good +for you. I mean to take care that you do not get too much." + +"Oh, Preston," said I, "that is very wrong. I have not any +knowledge scarcely." + +"There is no occasion," said Preston stoutly. "I hate learned +women." + +"Don't you like to learn things?" + +"That's another matter," said he. "A man must know things, or +he can't get along. Women are different." + +"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I. "I don't +see how it is different." + +"Why, a woman need not be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a +professor," said Preston; "all she need do, is to have good +sense and dress herself nicely." + +"Is dressing so important?" said I, with a new light breaking +over me. + +"Certainly. Ribbands of the wrong colour will half kill a +woman. And I have heard aunt Randolph say that a particular +lady was ruined by her gloves." + +"Ruined by her gloves!" said I. "Did she buy so many?" + +Preston went into such a laugh at that, I had to wait some +time before I could go on. I saw I had made some mistake, and +I would not renew that subject. + +"Do _you_ mean to be anything of that sort?" I said, with some +want of connection. + +"What sort? Ruined by my gloves? Not if I know it." + +"No, no! I mean, a lawyer or a doctor or a professor?" + +"I should think not!" said Preston, with a more emphatic +denial. + +"Then, what are you studying for?" + +"Because, as I told you, Daisy, a man must know things, or he +cannot get on in the world." + +I pondered the matter, and then I said, I should think good +sense would make a woman study too. I did not see the +difference. "Besides, Preston," I said, "if she didn't, they +would not be equal." + +"Equal!" cried Preston. "Equal! Oh, Daisy, you ought to have +lived in some old times. You are two hundred years old, at +least. Now don't go to studying that, but come home. You have +sat here long enough." + +It was my last hour of freedom. Perhaps for that reason I +remember every minute so distinctly. On our way home we met a +negro funeral. I stopped to look at it. Something, I do not +know what, in the long line of dark figures, orderly and even +stately in their demeanour, the white dresses of the women, +the peculiar faces of men and women both, fascinated my eyes. +Preston exclaimed at me again. It was the commonest sight in +the world, he said. It was their pride to have a grand +funeral. I asked if this was a grand funeral. Preston said +"Pretty well; there must be several hundred of them and they +were well dressed." And then he grew impatient and hurried me +on. But I was thinking; and before we got to the hotel where +we lodged, I asked Preston if there were many coloured people +at Magnolia. + +"Lots of them," he said. "There isn't anything else." + +"Preston," I said presently, "I want to buy some candy +somewhere." + +Preston was very much pleased, I believe, thinking that my +thoughts had quite left the current of sober things. He took +me to a famous confectioner's; and there I bought sweet things +till my little stock of money was all gone. + +"No more funds?" said Preston. Never mind, — go on, and I'll +help you. Why, I never knew you liked sugarplums so much. What +next? burnt almonds? this is good, Daisy, — this confection of +roses. But you must take all this sugar in small doses, or I +am afraid it wouldn't be just beneficial." + +"Oh, Preston!" I said, — "I do not mean to eat all this +myself." + +"Are you going to propitiate Miss Pinshon with it? I have a +presentiment that sweets wont sweeten her, Daisy." + +"I don't know what "propitiate" means," I said, sighing. "I +will not take the almonds, Preston." + +But he was determined I should; and to the almonds he added a +quantity of the delicate confection he spoke of, which I had +thought too delicate and costly for the uses I purposed; and +after the rose he ordered candied fruits; till a great package +of varieties was made up. Preston paid for them — I could not +help it — and desired them sent home; but I was bent on taking +the package myself. Preston would not let me do that, so he +carried it; which was a much more serious token of kindness, +in him, than footing the bill. It was but a little way, +however, to the hotel. We were in the hall, and I was just +taking my sugars from Preston to carry them upstairs, when I +heard aunt Gary call my name from the parlour. Instinctively, +I cannot tell how, I knew from her tone what she wanted me +for. I put back the package in Preston's hands, and walked in; +my play over. + +How well I knew my play was over, when I saw my governess. She +was sitting by my aunt on the sofa. Quite different from what +I had expected, so different that I walked up to her in a +maze, and yet seemed to recognise in that first view all that +was coming after. Probably that is fancy; but it seems to me +now that all I ever knew or felt about Miss Pinshon in the +years that followed, was duly begun and betokened in those. +first five minutes. She was a young-looking lady, younger- +looking than she was. She had a dark, rich complexion, and a +face that I suppose would have been called handsome; it was +never handsome to me. Long black curls on each side of her +face, and large black eyes, were the features that first +struck one; but I immediately decided that Miss Pinshon was +not born a lady. I do not mean that I think blood and breeding +are unseverable; or that half a dozen lady ancestors in a +direct line secure the character to the seventh in descent; +though they _do_ often secure the look of it; nevertheless, +ladies are born who never know all their lives how to make a +curtsey, and curtseys are made with infinite grace by those +who have nothing of a lady beyond the trappings. I never saw +Miss Pinshon do a rude or an awkward thing, that I remember; +nor one which changed my first mind about her. She was +handsomely dressed; but there again I felt the same want. Miss +Pinshon's dresses made me think always of the mercer's counter +and the dressmaker's shop. My mother's robes always seemed +part of her own self; and so in a certain true sense they +were. + +My aunt introduced me. Miss Pinshon studied me. Her first +remark was that I looked very young. My aunt excused that, on +the ground of my having been always a delicate child. Miss +Pinshon observed further that the way I wore my hair produced +part of the effect. My aunt explained _that_ to be my father's +and mother's fancy; and agreed that she thought cropped heads +were always ungraceful. If my hair were allowed to fall in +ringlets on my neck, I would look very different. Miss Pinshon +next inquired how much I knew? turning her great black eyes +from me to aunt Gary. My aunt declared she could not tell; +delicate health had also here interfered; and she appealed to +me to say what knowledge I was possessed of. I could not +answer. I could not say. It seemed to me I had not learned +anything. Then Preston spoke for me. + +"Modesty is apt to be silent on its own merits," he said. "My +cousin has learned the usual rudiments; and in addition to +those the art of driving." + +"Of _what?_ What did you say?" inquired my governess. + +"Of driving, ma'am. Daisy is an excellent whip, for her years +and strength." + +Miss Pinshon turned to Preston's mother. My aunt confirmed and +enlarged the statement, again throwing the blame on my father +and mother. For herself, she always thought it very dangerous +for a little girl like me to go about the country in a pony- +chaise all alone. Miss Pinshon's eyes could not be said to +express anything, but to my fancy they concealed a good deal. +She remarked that the roads were easy. + +"Oh, it was not here," said my aunt; "it was at the North, +where the roads are not like our pine forests. However, the +roads were not dangerous there, that I know of; not for +anybody but a child. But horses and carriages are always +dangerous." + +Miss Pinshon next applied herself to me. What did I know? +"beside this whip accomplishment," as she said. I was tongue- +tied. It did not seem to me that I knew anything. At last I +said so. Preston exclaimed. I looked at him to beg him to be +still; and I remember how he smiled at me. + +"You can read, I suppose?" my governess went on. + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"And write, I suppose?" + +"I do not think you would say I know how to write," I +answered. "I cannot do it at all well; and it takes me a long +time." + +"Come back to the driving, Daisy," said Preston. "That is one +thing you do know. And English history, I will bear witness." + +"What have you got there, Preston?" my aunt asked. + +"Some hoarhound drops, mamma." + +"You haven't a sore throat?" she asked eagerly. + +"No, ma'am — not just now, but I had yesterday; and I thought +I would be provided." + +"You seem provided for a long time —" Miss Pinshon remarked. + +"Can't get anything up at Magnolia — except rice," said +Preston, after making the lady a bow which did not promise +good fellowship. "You must take with you what you are likely +to want there." + +"You will not want all that," said his mother. + +"No, ma'am, I hope not," said Preston, looking at his package +demurely. "Old uncle Lot, you know, always has a cough; and I +purpose delighting him with some of my purchases. I will go +and put them away." + +"Old uncle Lot!" my aunt repeated. "What uncle Lot? I did not +know you had been enough at Magnolia to get the servants' +names. But I don't remember any uncle Lot." + +Preston turned to leave the room with his candy, and in +turning gave me a look of such supreme fun — and mischief that +at another time I could hardly have helped laughing. But Miss +Pinshon was asking me if I understood arithmetic? + +"I think — I know very little about it," I said hesitating. "I +can do a sum." + +"In what?" + +"On the slate, ma'am." + +"Yes, but in what?" + +"I don't know, ma'am — it is adding up the columns." + +"Oh, in _addition_, then. Do you know the multiplication and +division tables?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"Go and get off your things, and then come back to me; and I +will have some more talk with you." + +I remember to this day how heavily my feet went up the stairs. +I was not very strong yet in body, and now the strength seemed +to have gone out of my heart. + +"I declare," said Preston, who waited for me on the landing, +"she falls into position easy! Does she think she is going to +take _that_ tone with you?" + +I made no answer. Preston followed me into my room. + +"I won't have it, little Daisy. Nobody shall be mistress at +Magnolia but you. This woman shall not. See, Daisy — I am +going to put these things in my trunk for you, until we get +where you want them. That will be safe." + +I thanked him. + +"What are you going to do now?" + +"I am going downstairs, as soon as I am ready." + +"Do you expect to be under all the commands this High +Mightiness may think proper to lay upon you?" + +I begged him to be still and leave me. + +"She will turn you into stone!" he exclaimed. "She is a +regular Gorgon, with those heavy eyes of hers. I never saw +such eyes. I believe she would petrify me if I had to bear +them. Don't you give Medusa one of those sweet almonds, Daisy, +— not one, do you hear?" + +I heard too well. I faced round upon him and begged him to +remember that it was my _mother_ I must obey in Miss Pinshon's +orders; and said that he must not talk to me. Whereupon +Preston threw down his candies, and pulled my cloak out of my +unsteady hands, and locked his arms about me; kissing me and +lamenting over me that it was "too bad." I tried to keep my +self-command; but the end was a great burst of tears; and I +went down to Miss Pinshon with red eyes and at a disadvantage. +I think Preston was pleased. + + +I had need of all my quiet and self-command. My governess +stretched out her hand, drew me to her side and kissed me; +then with the other hand went on to arrange the ruffle round +my neck, stroking it and pulling it into order, and even +taking out a little bit of a pin I wore, and putting it in +again to suit herself. It annoyed me excessively. I knew all +was right about my ruffle and pin; I never left them +carelessly arranged; no fingers but mamma's had ever dared to +meddle with them before. But Miss Pinshon arranged the ruffle +and the pin, and still holding me, looked in my face with +those eyes of hers. I began to feel that they were "heavy." +They did not waver. They did not seem to wink, like other +eyes. They bore down upon my face with a steady power, that +was not bright but ponderous. Her first question was, whether +I was a good girl? + +I could not tell how to answer. My aunt answered for me, that +she believed Daisy meant to be a good girl, though she liked +to have her own way. + +Miss Pinshon ordered me to bring up a chair and sit down; and +then asked if I knew anything about mathematics; told me it +was the science of quantity; remarked to my aunt that it was +the very best study for teaching children to think, and that +she always gave them a great deal of it in the first years of +their pupilage. "It puts the mind in order," the black-eyed +lady went on; "and other things come so easily after it. +Daisy, do you know what I mean by 'quantity'?" + +I knew what _I _ meant by quantity; but whether the English +language had anything in common for Miss Pinshon and me, I had +great doubts. I hesitated. + +"I always teach my little girls to answer promptly when they +are asked anything. I notice that you do not answer promptly. +You can always tell whether you know a thing or whether you do +not." + +I was not so sure of that. Miss Pinshon desired me now to +repeat the multiplication table. Here at least there was +certainty. I had never learned it. + +"It appears to me," said my governess, "you have done very +little with the first ten years of your life. It gives you a +great deal to do for the next ten." + +"Health has prevented her applying to her studies," said my +aunt. + +"The want of health. Yes, I suppose so. I hope Daisy will be +very well now, for we must make up for lost time." + +"I do not suppose so much time need have been lost," said my +aunt; "but parents are easily alarmed, you know; they think of +nothing but one thing." + +So now there was nobody about me who would be easily alarmed. +I took the full force of that. + +"Of course," said Miss Pinshon, "I shall have a careful regard +to her health. Nothing can be done without that. I shall take +her out regularly to walk with me, and see that she does not +expose herself in any way. Study is no hindrance to health; +learning has no malevolent effect upon the body. I think +people often get sick for want of something to think of." + +How sure I felt, as I went up to bed that night, that no such +easy cause of sickness would be mine for long years to come! + +CHAPTER II. + +MY HOME. + + +The next day we were to go to Magnolia. It was a better day +than I expected. Preston kept me with him, away from aunt Gary +and my governess; who seemed to have a very comfortable time +together. Magnolia lay some miles inland, up a small stream or +inlet called the Sands river; the banks of which were studded +with gentlemen's houses. The houses were at large distances +from one another, miles of plantation often lying between. We +went by a small steamer which plied up and down the river; it +paddled along slowly, made a good many landings, and kept us +on board thus a great part of the day. + +At last Preston pointed out to me a little wooden pier or +jetty ahead, which he said was my landing; and the steamer +soon drew up to it. I could see only a broken bank, fifteen +feet high, stretching all along the shore. However, a few +steps brought us to a receding level bit of ground, where +there was a break in the bank; the shore fell in a little, and +a wooded dell sloped back from the river. A carriage and +servants were waiting here. + +Preston and I had arranged that we would walk up and let the +ladies ride. But as soon as they had taken their places I +heard myself called. We declared our purpose, Preston and I; +but Miss Pinshon said the ground was damp and she preferred I +should ride; and ordered me in. I obeyed, bitterly +disappointed; so much disappointed that I had the utmost +trouble not to let it be seen. For a little while I did not +know what we were passing. Then curiosity recovered itself. +The carriage was slowly making its way up a rough road. On +each side the wooded banks of the dell shut us in; and these +banks seemed to slope upward as well as the road, for though +we mounted and mounted, the sides of the dell grew no lower. +After a little, then, the hollow of the dell began to grow +wider, and its sides softly shelving down; and through the +trees on our left we could see a house, standing high above +us, but on ground which sloped towards the dell, which rose +and widened and spread out to meet it. This sloping ground was +studded with magnificent live oaks; each holding its place in +independent majesty, making no interference with the growth of +the rest. Some of these trees had a girth that half a dozen +men with their arms outstretched in a circle could not span; +they were green in spite of the winter; branching low, and +spreading into stately, beautiful heads of verdure, while grey +wreaths of moss hung drooping from some of them. The house was +seen not very distinctly among these trees; it showed low, and +in a long extent of building. I have never seen a prettier +approach to a house than that at Magnolia. My heart was full +of the beauty, this first time. + +"This is Magnolia, Daisy," said my aunt. "This is your house." + +"It appears a fine place," said Miss Pinshon. + +"It is one of the finest on the river. This is your property, +Daisy." + +"It is papa's," I answered. + +"Well, — it belongs to your mother, and so you may say it +belongs to your father; but it is yours for all that. The +arrangement was, as I know," my aunt went on, addressing Miss +Pinshon, — "the arrangement in the marriage settlements was, +that the sons should have the father's property, and the +daughters the mother's. There is one son and one daughter; so +they will each have enough." + +"But it is mamma's and papa's," I pleaded. + +"Oh, well — it will be yours. That is what I mean. Ransom will +have Melbourne and the Virginia estates; and Magnolia is +yours. You ought to have a pretty good education." + +I was so astonished at this way of looking at things, that +again I lost part of what was before me. The carriage went +gently along, passing the house, and coming up gradually to +the same level; then making a turn we drove at a better pace +back under some of those great evergreen oaks, till we drew up +at the house door. This was at a corner of the building, which +stretched in a long, low line towards the river. A verandah +skirted all that long front. As soon as I was out of the +carriage I ran to the furthest end. I found the verandah +turned the corner; the lawn too. All along the front, it +sloped to the dell; at the end of the house, it sloped more +gently and to greater distance down to the banks of the river. +I could not see the river itself. The view of the dell at my +left hand was lovely. A little stream which ran in the bottom +had been coaxed to form a clear pool in an open spot, where +the sunlight fell upon it, surrounded by a soft wilderness of +trees and climbers. Sweet branches of jessamine waved there in +their season; and a beautiful magnolia had been planted or +cherished there, and carefully kept in view of the house +windows. But the wide lawns, on one side and on the other, +grew nothing but the oaks; the gentle slope was a playground +for sunshine and shadow, as I first saw it; for then the +shadows of the oaks were lengthening over the grass, and the +waving grey wreaths of moss served sometimes as a foil, +sometimes as an her, to the sunbeams. I stood in a trance of +joy and sorrow; they were fighting so hard for the mastery; +till I knew that my aunt and Miss Pinshon had come up behind +me. + +"This is a proud place!" my governess remarked. + +I believe I looked at her. My aunt laughed; said she must not +teach me that; and led the way back to the entrance of the +house. All along the verandah I noticed that the green blinded +long windows made other entrances for whoever chose them. + +The door was open for us already, and within was a row of dark +faces of men and women, and a show of white teeth that looked +like a welcome. I wondered aunt Gary did not say more to +answer the welcome; she only dropped a few careless words as +she went in, and asked if dinner was ready. I looked from one +to another of the strange faces and gleaming rows of teeth. +These were my mother's servants; that was something that came +near to my heart. I heard inquiries after "Mis' Felissy," and +"Mass' Randolph," and then the question, "Mis' 'Lizy, is this +little missis?" It was asked by an old, respectable-looking, +grey-haired negress. I did not hear my aunt's answer; but I +stopped and turned to the woman and laid my little hand in her +withered palm. I don't know what there was in that minute; +only I know that whereas I touched one hand, I touched a great +many hearts. Then and there began my good understanding with +all the coloured people on my mother's estate of Magnolia. +There was a general outburst of satisfaction and welcome. Some +of the voices blessed me; more than one remarked that I was +"like Mass' Randolph;" and I went into the parlour with a warm +spot in my heart, which had been very cold. + +I was oddly at home at once. The room indeed was a room I had +never seen before; yet according to the mystery of such +things, the inanimate surroundings bore the mark of the tastes +and habits I had grown up among all my life. A great splendid +fire was blazing in the chimney; a rich carpet was on the +floor; the furniture was luxurious though not showy, and there +was plenty of it. So there was a plenty of works of art, in +home and foreign manufacture. Comfort, elegance, prettiness, +all around; and through the clear, glass of the long windows +the evergreen oaks on the lawn showed like guardians of the +place. I stood at one of them, with the pressure of that joy +and sorrow filling my childish heart. + +My aunt presently called me from the window, and bade me let +Margaret take off my things. I got leave to go up stairs with +Margaret and take them off there. So I ran up the low easy +flight of stairs — they were wooden and uncarpeted — to a +matted gallery lit from the roof, with here and there a window +in a recess looking upon the lawn. Many rooms opened into this +gallery. I went from one to another. Here were great wood +fires burning too; here were snowy white beds, with light +muslin hangings; and dark cabinets and wardrobes; and mats on +the floors, with thick carpets and rugs laid down here and +there. And on one side and on the other side the windows +looked out upon the wide lawn, with its giant oaks hung with +grey wreaths of moss. My heart grew sore straitened. It was a +hard evening, that first evening at Magnolia; with the +loveliness and the brightness, the warm attraction, and the +bitter cold sense of loneliness. I longed to throw myself down +and cry. What I did, was to stand by one of the windows and +fight myself not to let the tears come. If _they_ were here, it +would be so happy! If they were here — oh, if they were here! + +I believe the girl spoke to me without my hearing her. But +then came somebody whom I was obliged to hear, shouting +"Daisy" along the gallery. I faced him with a great effort. He +wanted to know what I was doing, and how I liked it, and where +my room was. + +"Not found it yet?" said Preston. "Is this it? Whose room is +this, hey? — you somebody?" + +"Maggie, massa," said the girl, dropping a curtsey. + +"Maggie, where is your mistress's room?" + +"This is Mis' 'Liza's room, sir." + +"Nonsense! Mis' 'Liza is only here on a visit — _this_ is your +mistress. Where is her room, hey?" + +"Oh, stop, Preston!" I begged him. "I am not mistress." + +"Yes, you are. I'll roast anybody who says you ain't. Come +along, and you shall choose which room you will have; and if +it isn't ready they will get it ready. Come!" + +I made him understand my choice might depend on where other +people's rooms were; and sent him off. Then I sent the girl +away — she was a pleasant-faced mulatto, very eager to help me +— and left to myself I hurriedly turned the key in the lock. I +_must_ have some minutes to myself, if I was to bear the burden +of that afternoon; and I knelt down with as heavy a heart, +almost, as I ever knew. In all my life I had never felt so +castaway and desolate. When my father and mother first went +from me, I was at least among the places where they had been; +June was with me still, and I knew not Miss Pinshon. The +journey had had its excitements and its interest. Now I was +alone; for June had decided, with tears and woeful looks, that +she would not come to Magnolia; and Preston would be soon on +his way back to college. I knew of only one comfort in the +world; that wonderful, "Lo, I am with you." Does anybody know +what that means, who has not made it the single plank bridge +over an abyss? + +No one found out that anything was the matter with me, except +Preston. His caresses were dangerous to my composure. I kept +him off; and he ate his dinner with a thundercloud face which +foretold war with all governesses. For me, it was hard work +enough to maintain my quiet; everything made it hard. Each new +room, every arrangement of furniture, every table appointment, +though certainly not what I had seen before, yet seemed so +like home that I was constantly missing what would have made +it home indeed. It was the shell without the kernel. The soup +ladle seemed to be by mistake in the wrong hands; Preston +seemed to have no business with my father's carving knife and +fork; the sense of desolation pressed upon me everywhere. + +After dinner, the ladies went up stairs to choose their rooms, +and Miss Pinshon avowed that she wished to have mine within +hers; it would be proper and convenient, she said. Aunt Gary +made no objection; but there was some difficulty, because all +the rooms had independent openings into the gallery. Miss +Pinshon hesitated a moment between one of two that opened into +each other and another that was pleasanter and larger but +would give her less facility for overlooking my affairs. For +one moment I drew a breath of hope; and then my hope was +quashed. Miss Pinshon chose one of the two that opened into +each other; and my only comfort was in the fact that my own +room had two doors and I was not obliged to go through Miss +Pinshon's to get to it. Just as this business was settled, +Preston called me out into the gallery and asked me to go for +a walk. I questioned with myself a second, whether I should +ask leave; but I had an inward assurance that to ask leave +would be not to go. I felt I must go. I ran back to the room +where my things lay, and in two minutes I was out of the +house. + +My first introduction to Magnolia! How well I remember every +minute and every foot of the way. It was delicious, the +instant I stepped out among the oaks and into the sunshine. +Freedom was there, at all events. + +"Now Daisy, we'll go to the stables," Preston said, "and see +if there is anything fit for you. I am afraid there isn't; +though Edwards told me he thought there was." + +"Who is Edwards?" I asked, as we sped joyfully away through +the oaks, across shade and sunshine. + +"Oh, he is the overseer." + +"What is an overseer?" + +"What is an overseer? — why, he is the man that looks after +things." + +"What things?" I asked. + +"All the things — everything, Daisy; all the affairs of the +plantation; the rice-fields and the cotton-fields, and the +people, and everything." + +"Where are the stables? and where are we going?" + +"Here — just here — a little way off. They are just in a dell +over here — the other side of the house, where the quarters +are." + +"Quarters"? I repeated. + +"Yes. Oh, you don't know anything down here, but you'll learn. +The stables and quarters are in this dell we are coming to; +nicely out of sight. Magnolia is one of the prettiest places +on the river." + +We had passed through the grove of oaks on the further side of +the house, and then found the beginning of a dell which, like +the one by which we had come up a few hours before, sloped +gently down to the river. In its course it widened out to a +little low sheltered open ground, where a number of buildings +stood. + +"So the house is between two dells," I said. + +"Yes; and on that height up there, beyond the quarters, is the +cemetery; and from there you can see a great many fields and +the river and have a beautiful view. And there are capital +rides all about the place, Daisy." + +When we came to the stables, Preston sent a boy in search of +"Darius." Darius, he told me, was the coachman, and chief in +charge of the stable department. Darius came presently. He was +a grey-headed, fine-looking, most respectable black man. He +had driven my mother and my mother's mother; and being a +trusted and important man on the place, and for other reasons, +he had a manner and bearing that were a model of dignified +propriety. Very grave "uncle Darry" was; stately and almost +courtly in his respectful courtesy; but he gave me a pleasant +smile when Preston presented him. + +"We's happy to see Miss Daisy at her own home. Hope de Lord +bress her." + +My heart warmed at these words like the ice-bound earth in a +spring day. They were not carelessly spoken, nor was the +welcome. My feet trod the greensward more firmly. Then all +other thoughts were for the moment put to flight by Preston's +calling for the pony and asking Darius what he thought of him, +and Darry's answer. + +"Very far, massa; very far. Him no good for not'ing." + +While I pondered what this judgment might amount to, the pony +was brought out. He was larger than Loupe, and had not Loupe's +peculiar symmetry of mane and tail; he was a fat dumpy little +fellow, sleek and short, dapple grey, with a good long tail +and a mild eye. Preston declared he had no shape at all and +was a poor concern of a pony; but to my eyes he was beautiful. +He took one or two sugarplums from my hand with as much +amenity as if we had been old acquaintances. Then a boy was +put on him, who rode him up and down with a halter. + +"He'll do, Darius," said Preston. + +"For little missis? Just big enough, massa. Got no tricks at +all, only he no like work. Not much spring in him." + +"Daisy must take the whip, then. Come and let us go look at +some of the country where you will ride. Are you tired, +Daisy?" + +"Oh, no," I said. "But wait a minute, Preston. Who lives in +all those houses?" + +"The people. The hands. They are away in the fields at work +now." + +"Does Darius live there?" + +"Of course. They all live here." + +"I should like to go nearer, and see the houses." + +"Daisy, it is nothing on earth to see. They are all just +alike; and you see them from here." + +"I want to look in," — I said, moving down the slope. + +"Daisy," said Preston, you are just as fond of having your own +way as —" + +"As what? I do not think I am, Preston." + +"I suppose nobody thinks he is," grumbled Preston, following +me, — "except the fellows who can't get it." + +I had by this time almost forgotten Miss Pinshon. I had almost +come to think that Magnolia might be a pleasant place. In the +intervals, when the pony was out of sight, I had improved my +knowledge of the old coachman; and every look added to my +liking. There was something I could not read that more and +more drew me to him. A simplicity in his good manners, a +placid expression in his gravity, a staid reserve in his +humility, were all there; and more yet. Also the scene in the +dell was charming to me. The ground about the negro cottages +was kept neat; they were neatly built of stone and stood round +the sides of a quadrangle; while on each side and below the +wooded slopes of ground closed in the picture. Sunlight was +streaming through and brightening up the cottages and resting +on uncle Darry's swarth face. Down through the sunlight I went +to the cottages. The first door stood open, and I looked in. +At the next I was about to knock, but Preston pushed open the +door for me; and so he did for a third and a fourth. Nobody +was in them. I was a good deal disappointed. They were empty, +bare, dirty, and seemed to me very forlorn. What a set of +people my mother's hands must be, I thought. Presently I came +upon a ring of girls, a little larger than I was, huddled +together behind one of the cottages. There was no manners +about them. They were giggling and grinning, hopping on one +foot, and going into other awkward antics; not the less that +most of them had their arms filled with little black babies. I +had got enough for that day, and turning about left the dell +with Preston. + +At the head of the dell, Preston led off in a new direction, +along a wide avenue that ran through the woods. Perfectly +level and smooth, with the woods closing in on both sides and +making long vistas through their boles and under their boughs. +By and by we took another path that led off from this one, +wide enough for two horses to go abreast. The pine trees were +sweet overhead and on each hand, making the light soft and the +air fragrant. Preston and I wandered on in delightful roaming; +leaving the house and all that it contained at an unremembered +distance. Suddenly we came out upon a cleared field. It was +many acres large; in the distance a number of people were at +work. We turned back again. + +"Preston," I said, after a silence of a few minutes, — "there +seemed to be no women in those cottages. I did not see any." + +"I suppose not," said Preston; "because there were not any to +see." + +"But had all those little babies no mothers?" + +"Yes, of course, Daisy; but they were in the field." + +"The mothers of those little babies?" + +"Yes. What about it? Look here — are you getting tired?" + +I said no; and he put his arm round me fondly, so as to hold +me up a little; and we wandered gently on, back to the avenue, +then down its smooth course further yet from the house, then +off by another wood path through the pines on the other side. +This was a narrower path, amidst sweeping pine branches and +hanging creepers, some of them prickly, which threw themselves +all across the way. It was not easy getting along. I remarked +that nobody seemed to come there much. + +"I never came here myself," said Preston, "but I know it must +lead out upon the river somewhere, and that's what I am after. +— Hollo! we are coming to something. There is something white +through the trees. I declare, I believe —" + +Preston had been out in his reckoning, and a second time had +brought me where he did not wish to bring me. We came +presently to an open place, or rather a place where the pines +stood a little apart; and there in the midst was a small +enclosure. A low brick wall surrounded a square bit of ground, +with an iron gate in one side of the square; within, the +grassy plot was spotted with the white marble of tombstones. +There were large and small. Overhead, the great pine trees +stood and waved their long branches gently in the wind. The +place was lonely and lovely. We had come, as Preston guessed, +to the river, and the shore was here high; so that we looked +down upon the dark little stream far below us. The sunlight, +getting low by this time, hardly touched it; but streamed +through the pine trees and over the grass and gilded the white +marble with gold. + +"I did not mean to bring you here," said Preston. "I did not +know I was bringing you here. Come, Daisy — we'll go and try +again." + +"Oh, stop!" I said — "I like it. I want to look at it." + +"It is the cemetery," said Preston. "That tall column is the +monument of our great — no, of our great-great-grandfather; +and this brown one is for mamma's father. Come, Daisy! —" + +"Wait a little," I said. "Whose is that with the vase on top?" + +"Vase?" said Preston — "it's an urn. It is an urn, Daisy. +People do not put vases on tombstones." + +I asked what the difference was. + +"The difference? Oh, Daisy, Daisy! Why vases are to put +flowers in; and urns — I'll tell you, Daisy, — I believe it is +because the Romans used to burn the bodies of their friends +and gather up the ashes and keep them in a funeral urn. So an +urn comes to be appropriate to a tombstone." + +"I do not see how," I said. + +"Why, because an urn comes to be an emblem of mortality and +all that. Come, Daisy; let us go." + +"I think a vase of flowers would be a great deal nicer," I +said. "We do not keep the ashes of our friends." + +"We don't put signs of joy over their graves either," said +Preston. + +"I should think we might," I said, meditatively. "When people +have gone to Jesus — they must be very glad!" + +Preston burst out with an expression of hope that Miss Pinshon +would "do something" for me; and again would have led me away; +but I was not ready to go. My eye, roving beyond the white +marble and the low brick wall, had caught what seemed to be a +number of meaner monuments, scattered among the pine trees and +spreading down the slope of the ground on the further side, +where it fell off towards another dell. In one place a bit of +board was set up; further on, a cross; then I saw a great many +bits of board and crosses; some more and some less carefully +made; and still as my eye roved about over the ground they +seemed to start up to view in every direction; too low and too +humble and too near the colour of the fallen pine leaves to +make much show unless they were looked for. I asked what they +all were? + +"Those? Oh, those are for the people, you know." + +"The people?" — I repeated. + +"Yes, the people — the hands." + +"There are a great many of them!" I remarked. + +"Of course," said Preston. "You see, Daisy, there have been I +don't know how many hundreds of hands here for a great many +years, ever since mother's grandfather's time." + +"I should think," said I, looking at the little board slips +and crosses among the pine cones on the ground, — "I should +think they would like to have something nicer to put up over +their graves." + +"Nicer? those are good enough," said Preston. "Good enough for +them." + +"I should think they would like to have something better," I +said. "Poor people at the North have nicer monuments, I know. +I never saw such monuments in my life." + +"Poor people!" cried Preston. "Why, these are the _hands_, +Daisy, — the coloured people. What do they want of monuments?" + +"Don't they care?" said I, wondering. + +"Who cares if they care? I don't know whether they care," said +Preston, quite out of patience with me, I thought. + +"Only, if they cared, I should think they would have something +nicer," I said. "Where do they all go to church, Preston?" + +"Who?" said Preston. + +"These people?" + +"What people? The families along the river, do you mean?" + +"No, no," said I; "I mean _our_ people — these people; the +hands. You say there are hundreds of them. Where do they go to +church?" + +I faced Preston now in my eagerness; for the little board +crosses and the forlorn look of the whole burying ground on +the side of the hill had given me a strange feeling. + +"Where do they go to church, Preston?" + +"Nowhere, I reckon." + +I was shocked, and Preston was impatient. How should he know, +he said; he did not live at Magnolia. And he carried me off. +We went back to the avenue and slowly bent our steps again +towards the house; slowly, for I was tired, and we both, I +think, were busy with our thoughts. Presently I saw a man, a +negro, come into the avenue a little before us with a bundle +of tools on his back. He went as slowly as we, with an +indescribable, purposeless gait. His figure had the same look +too, from his lop-sided old white hat to every fold of his +clothing, which seemed to hang about him just as if it would +as lieve be off as on. I begged Preston to hail him and ask +him the question about church going, which sorely troubled me. +Preston was unwilling and resisted. + +"What do you want me to do that for, Daisy?" + +"Because aunt Gary told Miss Pinshon that we have to drive six +miles to go to church. Do ask him where they go!" + +"They don't go _anywhere_, Daisy," said Preston impatiently; +"they don't care a straw about it, either. All the church they +care about is when they get together in somebody's house and +make a great muss." + +"Make a muss!" said I. + +"Yes; a regular muss; shouting and crying and having what they +call a good time. That's what some of them do; but I'll wager +if I were to ask him about going to church, this fellow here +would not know what I mean." + +This did by no means quiet me. I insisted that Preston should +stop the man; and at last he did. I The fellow turned and came +back towards us, ducking his old white hat. His face was just +like the rest of him: there was no expression in it but an +expression of limp submissiveness. + +"Sambo, your mistress wants to speak to you." + +"Yes, massa. I's George, massa." + +"George," said I, "I want to know where you go to church?" + +"Yes, missis. What missis want to know?" + +"Where do you and all the rest go to church?" + +"Reckon don't go nowhar, missis." + +"Don't you ever go to church?" + +"Church for white folks, missis; bery far; long ways to ride." + +"But you and the rest of the people — don't you go anywhere to +church? to hear preaching?" + +"Reckon not, missis. De preachin's don't come dis way, +likely." + +"Can you read the Bible, George?" + +"Dunno read, missis. Never had no larnin'." + +"Then don't you know anything about what is in the Bible? +don't you know about Jesus?" + +"Reckon don't know not'ing, missis." + +"About Jesus?" said I again. + +" 'Clar, missis, dis nigger don't know not'ing, but de rice and +de corn. Missis talk to Darry; he most knowin' nigger on +plantation; knows a heap." + +"There!" exclaimed Preston — "that will do. You go off to your +supper, George — and Daisy, you had better come on if you want +anything pleasant at home. What on earth have you got now by +that? What is the use? Of course they do not know anything; +and why should they? They have no time and no use for it." + +"They have time on Sundays —" I said. + +"Time to sleep. That is what they do. That is the only thing a +negro cares about, to go to sleep in the sun. It's all +nonsense, Daisy." + +"They would care about something else, I dare say," I +answered, "if they could get it." + +"Well, they can't get it. Now, Daisy, I want you to let these +fellows alone. You have nothing to do with them, and you did +not come to Magnolia for such work. You have nothing on earth +to do with them." + +I had my own thoughts on the subject, but Preston was not a +sympathising hearer. I said no more. The evergreen oaks about +the house came presently in sight; then the low verandah that +ran round three sides of it; then we came to the door, and my +walk was over. + +CHAPTER III. + +THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE. + +My life at Magnolia might be said to begin when I came down +stairs that evening. My aunt and Miss Pinshon were sitting in +the parlour, in the light of a glorious fire of light wood and +oak sticks. Miss Pinshon called me to her at once; inquired +where I had been; informed me I must not for the future take +such diversion without her leave first asked and obtained; and +then put me to reading aloud, that she might see how well I +could do it. She gave me a philosophical article in a magazine +for my proof piece; it was full of long words that I did not +know and about matters that I did not understand. I read +mechanically, of course; trying with all my might to speak the +long words right, that there might be no room for correction; +but Miss Pinshon's voice interrupted me again and again. I +felt cast away — in a foreign land; further and further from +the home feeling every minute; and it seemed besides as if the +climate had some power of petrifaction. I could not keep +Medusa out of my head. It was a relief at last when the tea +was brought in. Miss Pinshon took the magazine out of my hand. + +"She has a good voice, but she wants expression," was her +remark. + +"I could not understand what she was reading," said my aunt +Gary. + +"Nor anybody else," said Preston. "How are you going to give +expression, when there is nothing to express?" + +"That is where you feel the difference between a good reader +and one who is not trained," said my governess. "I presume +Daisy has never been trained." + +"No, not in anything," said my aunt. "I dare say she wants a +good deal of it." + +"We will try —" said Miss Pinshon. + +It all comes back to me as I write, that beginning of my +Magnolia life. I remember how dazed and disheartened I sat at +the tea-table, yet letting nobody see it; how Preston made +violent efforts to change the character of the evening; and +did keep up a stir that at another time would have amused me. +And when I was dismissed to bed, Preston came after me to the +upper gallery and almost broke up my power of keeping quiet. +He gathered me in his arms, kissed me and lamented over me, +and denounced ferocious threats against "Medusa;" while I in +vain tried to stop him. He would not be sent away, till he had +come into my room and seen that the fire was burning and the +room warm, and Margaret ready for me. + +With Margaret there was also an old coloured woman, dark and +wrinkled, my faithful old friend Mammy Theresa; but indeed I +could scarcely see her just then, for my eyes were full of big +tears when Preston left me; and I had to stand still before +the fire for some minutes before I could fight down the fresh +tears that were welling up and let those which veiled my +eyesight scatter away. I was conscious how silently the two +women waited upon me. I had a sense even then of the sympathy +they were giving. I knew they served me with a respect which +would have done for an Eastern princess; but I said nothing +hardly, nor they, that night. + +If the tears came when I was alone, so did sleep too at last; +and I waked up the next morning a little revived. It was a +cool morning! and my eyes opened to see Margaret on her knees +making my fire. Two good oak sticks were on the fire dogs, and +a heap of light wood on the floor. I watched her piling and +preparing, and then kindling the wood with a splinter of light +wood which she lit in the candle. It was all very strange to +me. The bare painted and varnished floor; the rugs laid down +here and there; the old cupboards in the wall; the unwonted +furniture. It did not feel like home. I lay still, until the +fire blazed up and Margaret rose to her feet, and seeing my +eyes open dropped her curtsey. + +"Please, missis, may I be Miss Daisy's girl?" + +"I will ask aunt Gary," I answered; a good deal surprised. + +"Miss Daisy is the mistress. We all belong to Miss Daisy. It +will be as she say." + +I thought to myself that very little was going to be "as I +said." I got out of bed, feeling terribly slim-hearted, and +stood in my night-gown before the fire, trying to let the +blaze warm me. Margaret did her duties with a zeal of devotion +that reminded me of my old June. + +"I will ask aunt Gary," I said; "and I think she will let you +build my fire, Margaret." + +"Thank'e, ma'am. First rate fires, I'll make, Miss Daisy. +We'se all so glad Miss Daisy come to Magnoly." + +Were they? I thought, and what did she mean by their all +"belonging to me"? I was not accustomed to quite so much +deference. However, I improved my opportunity by asking +Margaret my question of the day before about church. The girl +half laughed. + +"Aint any church big enough to hold all de people," she said. +"Guess we coloured folks has to go widout." + +"But where _is_ the church?" I said. + +"Aint none, Miss Daisy. People enough to make a church full +all himselves." + +"And don't you want to go?" + +"Reckon it's o' no consequence, missis. It's a right smart +chance of a way to Bo'mbroke, where de white folks' church is. +Guess they don't have none for poor folks nor niggers in dese +parts." + +"But Jesus died for poor people," I said, turning round upon +my attendant. She met me with a gaze I did not understand, and +said nothing. Margaret was not like my old June. She was a +clear mulatto, with a fresh colour and rather a handsome face; +and her eyes, unlike June's little anxious, restless, almond +shaped eyes, were liquid and full. She went on care- fully +with the toilet duties which busied her; and I was puzzled. + +"Did you never hear of Jesus?" I said presently. "Don't you +know that He loves poor people?" + +"Reckon He loves rich people de best, Miss Daisy," the girl +said, in a dry tone. + +I faced about to deny this, and to explain how the Lord had a +special love and care for the poor. I saw that my hearer did +not believe me. "She had heerd so," she said. + +The dressing-bell sounded long and loud, and I was obliged to +let Margaret go on with my dressing; but in the midst of my +puzzled state of mind, I felt childishly sure of the power of +that truth, of the Lord's love, to break down any hardness and +overcome any coldness. Yet, "how shall they hear without a +preacher?" and I had so little chance to speak. + +"Then, Margaret," said I at last, "is there no place where you +can go to hear about the things in the Bible?" + +"No, missis; I never goes." + +"And does not anybody, except Darry when he goes with the +carriage?" + +"Can't, Miss Daisy; it's miles and miles; and no place for +niggers neither." + +"Can you read the Bible, Margaret?" + +"Guess not, missis; we's too stupid; aint good for coloured +folks to read." + +"Does _nobody_, among all the people, read the Bible?" said I, +once more stopping Margaret in my dismay. + +"Uncle Darry — he does," said the girl; "and he — do 'spoun +some; but I don't make no count of his 'spoundations." + +I did not know quite what she meant; but I had no time for +anything more. I let her go, locked my door and kneeled down; +with the burden on my heart of this new revelation; that there +were hundreds of people under the care of my father and +mother, who were living without church and without Bible, in +desperate ignorance of everything worth knowing. If I papa had +only been at Magnolia with me! I thought I could have +persuaded him to build a church and let somebody come and +teach the people. But now — what could I do? And I asked the +Lord, what could I do? but I did not see the answer. + +Feeling the question on my two shoulders, I went down stairs. +To my astonishment, I found the family all gathered in solemn +order; the house servants at one end of the room, my aunt, +Miss Pinshon and Preston at the other, and before my aunt a +little table with books. I got a seat as soon as I could, for +it was plain that something was waiting for me. Then my aunt +opened the Bible and read a chapter, and followed it with a +prayer read out of another book. I was greatly amazed at the +whole proceeding. No such ceremony was ever gone through at +Melbourne; and certainly nothing had ever given me the notion +that my aunt Gary was any more fond of sacred things than the +rest of the family. + +"An excellent plan," said Miss Pinshon, when we had risen from +our knees and the servants had filed off. + +"Yes," my aunt said, somewhat as if it needed an apology; — +"it was the custom in my father's and grandfather's time; and +we always keep it up. I think old customs always should be +kept up." + +"And do you have the same sort of thing on Sundays, for the +out-of-door hands?" + +"What?" said my aunt. It was somewhat more abrupt than polite; +but she probably felt that Miss Pinshon was a governess. + +"There were only the house servants gathered this morning." + +"Of course; part of them." + +"Have you any similar system of teaching for those who are +outside? I think you told me they have no church to go to." + +"I should like to know what "system" you would adopt," said my +aunt, "to reach seven hundred people." + +"A church and a minister would not be a bad thing." + +"Or we might all turn missionaries," said Preston; "and go +among them with bags of Bibles round our necks. We might all +turn missionaries." + +"Colporteurs," said Miss Pinshon. + +Then I said in my heart, "I will be one." But I went on eating +my breakfast and did not look at anybody; only I listened with +all my might. + +"I don't know about that" said my aunt. "I doubt whether a +church and a minister would be beneficial." + +"Then you have a nation of heathen at your doors," said Miss +Pinshon. + +"I don't know but they are just as well off," said my aunt. "I +doubt if more light would do them any good. They would not +understand it." + +"They must be very dark, if they could not understand light," +said my governess. + +"Just as people that are very light cannot understand +darkness," said Preston. + +"I think so," my aunt went on. "Our neighbour Colonel Joram, +down below here at Crofts, will not allow such a thing as +preaching or teaching on his plantation. He says it is bad for +them. We always allowed it; but I don't know." + +"Colonel Joram is a heathen himself, you know, mother," said +Preston. "Don't hold _him_ up." + +"I will hold him up for a gentleman, and a very successful +planter," said Mrs. Gary. "No place is better worked or +managed than Crofts. If the estate of Magnolia were worked and +kept as well, it would be worth half as much again as it ever +has been. But there is the difference of the master's eye. My +brother-in-law never could be induced to settle at Magnolia, +nor at his own estates either. He likes it better in the cold +North." + +Miss Pinshon made no remark whatever in answer to this +statement; and the rest of the talk at the breakfast-table was +about rice. + +After breakfast my school life at Magnolia began. It seems as +if all the threads of my life there were in a hurry to get +into my hand. Ah, I had a handful soon! But this was the +fashion of my first day with my governess. — All the days were +not quite so bad; however it gave the key of them all. + +Miss Pinshon bade me come with her to the room she and my aunt +had agreed should be the schoolroom. It was the book room of +the house, though it had hardly books enough to be called a +library. It had been the study or private room of my +grandfather; there was a leather-covered table with an old +bronze standish; some plain book-cases; a large escritoire; a +terrestrial globe; a thermometer and barometer; and the rest +of the furniture was an abundance of chintz-covered chairs and +lounges. These were very easy and pleasant for use; and long +windows opening on the verandah looked off among the evergreen +oaks and their floating grey drapery; the light in the room +and the whole aspect of it was agreeable. If Miss Pinshon had +not been there! But she was there, with a terrible air of +business; setting one or two chairs in certain positions by a +window, and handling one or two books on the table. I stood +meek and helpless, expectant. + +"Have you read any history, Daisy?" + +I said no; then I said yes, I had; a little. + +"What?" + +"A little of the history of England last summer." + +"Not of your own country?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"And no ancient history?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"You know nothing of the Division of the nations, of course?" + +I answered, nothing. I had no idea what she meant; except that +England, and America, and France, were different, and of +course divided. Of Peleg the son of Eber and the brother of +Joktan, I then knew nothing. + +"And arithmetic is something you do not understand," pursued +Miss Pinshon. "Come here and let me see how you can write." + +With trembling, stiff little fingers — I feel them yet — I +wrote some lines under my governess' eye. + +"Very unformed," was her comment. "And now, Daisy, you may sit +down there in the window and study the multiplication table. +See how much of it you can get this morning." + +Was it to be a morning's work? My heart was heavy as lead. At +this hour, at Melbourne, my task would have been to get my +flat hat and rush out among the beds of flowers; and a little +later, to have up Loupe and go driving whither I would, among +the meadows and cornfields. Ah, yes; and there was Molly who +might be taught, and Juanita who might be visited; and Dr. +Sandford who might come like a pleasant gale of wind into the +midst of whatever I was about. I did not stop to think of them +now, though a waft of the sunny air through the open window +brought a violent rush of such images. I tried to shut them +out of my head and gave myself wistfully to "three times one +is three; three times two is six." Miss Pinshon helped me by +closing the window. I thought she might have let so much +sweetness as that come into the multiplication table. However +I studied its threes and fours steadily for some time dry; +then my attention flagged. It was very uninteresting. I had +never in all my life till then been obliged to study what gave +me no pleasure. My mind wandered, and then my eyes wandered, +to where the sunlight lay so golden under the live oaks. The +wreaths of grey moss stirred gently with the wind. I longed to +be out there. Miss Pinshon's voice startled me. + +"Daisy, where are your thoughts?" + +I hastily brought my eyes and wits home and answered, "Out +upon the lawn, ma'am." + +"Do you find the multiplication table there?" + +It was so needless to answer! I was mute. I would have come to +the rash conclusion that nature and mathematics had nothing to +do with each other. + +"You must learn to command your attention," my governess went +on. "You must not let it wander. That is the first lesson you +have to learn. I shall give you mathematics till you have +learnt it. You can do nothing without attention." + +I bent myself to the threes and fours again. But I was soon +weary; my mind escaped; and without turning my eyes off my +book, it swept over the distance between Magnolia and +Melbourne, and sat down by Molly Skelton to help her in +getting her letters. It was done and I was there. I could hear +the hesitating utterances; I could see the dull finger tracing +its way along the lines. And then would come the reading _to_ +Molly, and the interested look of waiting attention, and once +in a while the strange softening of the poor hard face. From +there my mind went off to the people around me at Magnolia; +were there some to be taught here perhaps? and could I get at +them? and was there no other way — could it be there was no +other way but by my weak little voice — through which some of +them were ever to learn about my dear Saviour? I had got very +far from mathematics, and my book fell. I heard Miss Pinshon's +voice. + +"Daisy, come here." + +I obeyed, and came to the table, where my governess was +installed in the leather chair of my grandfather. She always +used it. + +"I should like to know what you are doing." + +"I was thinking —" I said. + +"Did I give you thinking to do?" + +"No, ma'am; not of that kind." + +"What kind was it?" + +"I was thinking, and remembering —" + +"Pray, what were you remembering?" + +"Things at home — and other things." + +"Things and things," said Miss Pinshon. "That is not a very +elegant way of speaking. Let me hear how much you have +learned." + +I began. About all of the "threes" was on my tongue; the rest +had got mixed up hopelessly with Molly Skelton and teaching +Bible reading. Miss Pinshon was not pleased. + +"You must learn attention," she said. "I can do nothing with +you until you have succeeded in that. You _must_ attend. Now I +shall give you a motive for minding what you are about. Go and +sit down again and study this table till you know the threes +and the fours and the fives and the sixes, perfectly. Go and +sit down." + +I sat down, and the life was all out of me. Tears in the first +place had a great mind to come, and would put themselves +between me and the figures in the multiplication table. I +governed them back after a while. But I could not study to +purpose. I was tired and down-spirited; I had not energy left +to spring to my task and accomplish it. Over and over again I +tried to put the changes of the numbers in my head; it seemed +like writing them in sand. My memory would not take hold of +them; could not keep them; with all my trying I grew only more +and more stupefied and fagged, and less capable of doing what +I had to do. So dinner came, and Miss Pinshon said I might get +myself ready for dinner and after dinner come back again to my +lesson. The lesson must be finished before anything else was +done. + +I had no appetite. Preston was in a fume of vexation, partly +roused by my looks, partly by hearing that I was not yet free. +He was enraged beyond prudent speaking, but Miss Pinshon never +troubled herself about his words; and when the first and +second courses were removed, told me I might go to my work. +Preston called to me to stay and have some fruit; but I went +on to the study, not caring for fruit or for anything else. I +felt very dull and miserable. Then I remembered that my +governess probably did care for some fruit and would be +delayed a little while; and then I tried what is the best +preparation for study or anything else. I got down on my +knees, to ask that help which is as willingly given to a child +in her troubles as to the general of an army. I prayed that I +might be patient and obedient and take disagreeable things +pleasantly and do my duty in the multiplication table. And a +breath of rest came over my heart, and a sort of perfume of +remembered things which I had forgotten; and it quite changed +the multiplication table to think that God had given it to me +to learn, and so that some good would certainly come of +learning it; at least the good of pleasing Him. As long as I +dared I staid on my knees; then — I was strong for the fives +and sixes. + +But it was not quick work; and though my patience did not flag +again nor my attention fail, the afternoon was well on the way +before I was dismissed. I had then permission to do what I +liked. Miss Pinshon said she would not go to walk that day; I +might follow my own pleasure. + +I must have been very tired; for it seemed to me there was +hardly any pleasure left to follow. I got my flat and went +out. The sun was westing; the shadows stretched among the +evergreen oaks; the outer air was sweet. I had tried to find +Preston first, in the house; but he was not to be found; and +all alone I went out into the sunshine. It wooed me on. +Sunshine and I were always at home together. Without knowing +that I wanted to go anywhere, some secret attraction drew my +steps towards the dell where I had seen Darry. I followed one +of several well beaten paths that led towards the quarters +through the trees, and presently came out upon the stables +again. All along the dell the sunshine poured. The ground was +kept like a pleasure ground, it was so neat; the grass was as +clean as the grass of a park; the little stone houses +scattered away down towards the river, with shade trees among +them, and oaks lining the sides of the dell. I thought surely +Magnolia was a lovely place! if only my father and mother had +been there. But then, seeing the many cottages, my trouble of +the morning pressed upon me afresh. So many people, so many +homes, and the light of the Bible not on them, nor in them? +And, child as I was, and little as I knew, I knew the name of +Christ too unspeakably precious, for me to think without a +sore heart, that all these people were without what was the +jewel of my life. — And they my mother's servants! my father's +dependents! What could I do? + +The dell was alone in the yellow sunlight which poured over +the slope from the west; and I went musing on till getting to +the corner of the stables I saw Darry just round the corner +grooming a black horse. He was working energetically and +humming to himself as he worked a refrain which I learned +afterwards to know well. — "All I could make out was, I'm going +home" — several times repeated. I came near before he saw me, +and he started; then bid me good evening and "hoped I found +Magnolia a pleasant place." + +Since I have grown older I have read that wonderful story of +Mrs. Stowe's _Uncle Tom_; he reminded me of Darry then, and now +I never think of the one without thinking of the other. But +Darry, having served a different class of people from Uncle +Tom's first owners, had a more polished style of manners, +which I should almost call courtly; and he was besides a man +of higher natural parts, and somewhat more education. But much +commerce in the Court which is above all earthly dignities, no +doubt had more to do with his peculiarities than any other +cause. + +I asked him what he was singing about home? and where his home +was? He turned his face full on me, letting me see how grave +and gentle his eye was, and at the same time there was a +wistful expression in it that I felt. "Home aint nowheres +here, missie," he said. "I'm 'spectin' to go by and by." + +"Do you mean home up _there?_" said I, lifting my finger towards +the sky. Darry fairly laughed. + +" 'Spect don't want no other home, missie. Heaven good enough." + +I stood watching him as he rubbed down the black horse, +feeling surely that he and I would be friends. + +"Where is your home here, Darry?" + +"I got a place down there, little missie — not fur." + +"When you have done that horse, will you show me your place? I +want to see where you live." + +"Missie want to see Darry's house?" said he, showing his white +teeth. "Missie shall see what she mind to. I allus keeps +Saddler till the last, 'cause he's ontractable.". + +The black horse was put in the stable, and I followed my black +groom down among the lines of stone huts, to which the working +parties had not yet returned. Darry's house was one of the +lowest in the dell, out of the quadrangle, and had a glimpse +of the river. It stood alone, in a pretty place, but something +about it did not satisfy me. It looked square and bare. The +stone walls within were rough as the stone-layer had left +them; one little four-paned window, or rather casement, stood +open; and the air was sweet; for Darry kept his place +scrupulously neat and clean. But there was not much to be +kept. A low bedstead; a wooden chest; an odd table made of a +piece of board on three legs; a shelf with some kitchen ware; +that was all the furniture. On the odd table there lay a +Bible, that had, I saw, been turned over many a time. + +"Then you can read, uncle Darry," I said, pitching on the only +thing that pleased me. + +"De good Lord, He give me dat happiness," the man answered +gravely. + +"And you love Jesus, Darry," I said, feeling that we had +better come to an understanding as soon as possible. His +answer was an energetic — + +"Bress de Lord! Do Miss Daisy love Him, den?" + +I would have said yes; I did say yes, I believe; but I did not +know how or why, at this question there seemed a coming +together of gladness and pain which took away my breath. My +head dropped on Darry's little window-sill, and my tears +rushed forth, like the head of water behind a broken mill-dam. +Darry was startled and greatly concerned. He wanted to know if +I was not well — if I would send him for "su'thing" — I could +only shake my head and weep. I think Darry was the only +creature at Magnolia before whom I would have so broken down. +But somehow I felt safe with Darry. The tears cleared away +from my voice after a little; and I went on with my inquiries +again. It was a good chance. + +"Uncle Darry, does no one else but you read the Bible?" + +He looked dark and troubled. "Missie sees — de folks for most +part got no learnin'. Dey no read, sure." + +"Do you read the Bible to them, Darry?" + +"Miss Daisy knows, dere aint no great time. Dey's in de field +all day, most days, and dey hab no time for to hear." + +"But Sundays? —" I said. + +"Do try," — he said, looking graver yet. "Me do 'tempt +su'thin'. But missie knows, de Sabbat' be de only day de +people hab, and dey tink mostly of oder tings." + +"And there is no church for you all to go to?" + +"No, missis; no church." + +There was a sad tone in this answer. I did not know how to go +on. I turned to something else. + +"Uncle Darry, I don't think your home looks very comfortable." + +Darry almost laughed at that. He said it was good enough; +would last very well a little while longer. I insisted that it +was not _comfortable_. It was cold. + +"Sun warm, Miss Daisy. De good Lord, He make His sun warm. And +dere be fires enough." + +"But it is very empty," I said. "You want something more in +it, to make it look nice." + +"It never empty, Miss Daisy, when de Lord Hisself be here. And +He not leave His chil'n alone. Miss Daisy know dat?" + +I stretched forth my little hand and laid it in Darry's great +— black palm. There was an absolute confidence established +between us. + +"Uncle Darry" — I said, "I do love him — but sometimes, I want +to see papa! —" + +And therewith my self-command was almost gone. I stood with +full eyes and quivering lips, my hand still in Darry's, who on +his part was speechless with sympathy. + +"De time pass quick, and Miss Daisy see her pa'," — he said at +last. + +I did not think the time passed quick. I said so. + +"Do little missie ask de Lord for help?" Darry said, his eyes +by this time as watery as mine. "Do Miss Daisy know, it nebber +lonesome where de Lord be? He so good." + +I could not stand any more. I pulled away my hand and stood +still, looking out of the window and seeing nothing, till I +could make myself quiet. Then I changed the subject and told +Darry I should like to go and see some of the other houses +again. I know now, I can see, looking back, how my childish +self-control and reserve made some of those impulsive natures +around me regard me with something like worshipful reverence. +I felt it then, without thinking of it or reasoning about it. +From Darry, and from Margaret, and from Mammy Theresa, and +from several others, I had a loving, tender reverence, which +not only felt for me as a sorrowful child, but bowed before me +as something of higher and stronger nature than themselves. +Darry silently attended me now from house to house of the +quarters; introducing and explaining and doing all he could to +make my progress interesting and amusing. Interested I was; +but most certainly not amused. I did not like the look of +things any better than I had done at first. The places were +not "nice;" there was a coarse, uncared-for air of everything +within, although the outside was in such well dressed +condition. No litter on the grass, no, untidiness of walls or +chimneys; and no seeming of comfortable homes when the door +was opened. The village, for it amounted to that, was almost +deserted at that hour; only a few crooning old women on the +sunny side of a wall, and a few half-grown girls, and a +quantity of little children, depending for all the care they +got upon one or the other of these. + +"Haven't all these little babies got mothers?" I asked. + +"For sure, Miss Daisy — dey's got modders." + +"Where _are_ the mothers of all these babies, Darry?" I asked. + +"Dey's in de field, Miss Daisy. Home d'rectly." + +"Are they working like _men_, in the fields?" I asked. + +"Dey's all at work," said Darry. + +"Do they do the same work as the men?" + +"All alike, Miss Daisy." Darry's answers were not hearty. + +"But don't their little babies want them?" said I, looking at +a group of girls in whose hands were some very little babies +indeed. I think Darry made me no answer. + +"But if the men and women both work out," I went on, "papa +must give them a great deal of money; I should think they +would have things more comfortable, Darry. Why don't they have +little carpets, and tables and chairs, and cups and saucers? +Hardly anybody has teacups and saucers. Have you _got_ any, +uncle Darry?" + +" 'Spect I'se no good woman to brew de tea for her ole man," +said Darry; but I thought he looked at me very oddly. + +"Couldn't you make it for yourself, uncle Darry?" + +"Poor folks don't live just like de rich folks," he answered +quietly, after a minute's pause. "And I don't count fur to +want no good t'ing, missie." + +I went on with my observations; my questions I thought I would +not push any further at that time. I grew more and more +dissatisfied, that my father's workpeople should live in no +better style and in no better comfort. Even Molly Skelton had +a furnished and appointed house, compared with these little +bare stone huts; and mothers that would leave their babies for +the sake of more wages must, I thought, be very barbarous +mothers. This was all because, no doubt, of having no church +and no Bible. I grew weary. As we were going up the dell +towards the stables, I suddenly remembered my pony; and I +asked to see him. + +Darry was much relieved, I fancy, to have me come back to a +child's sphere of action. He had out the fat little grey pony +and talked it over to me with great zeal. It came into my head +to ask for a saddle. + +"Dere be a saddle" — Darry said doubtfully — "Massa Preston he +done got a saddle dis very day. Dunno where massa Preston can +be." + +I did not heed this. I begged to have the saddle and be +allowed to try the pony. Now Preston had laid a plan that +nobody but himself should have the pleasure of first mounting +me; but I did not know of this plan. Darry hesitated, I saw, +but he had not the power to refuse me. The saddle was brought +out, put on, and carefully arranged. + +"Uncle Darry, I want to get on him — may I ?" + +"O' course — Miss Daisy do what she mind to. Him bery good, +only some lazy." + +So I was mounted. Preston, Miss Pinshon, the servants' +quarters, the multiplication table, all were forgotten and +lost in a misty distance. I was in the saddle for the first +time, and delight held me by both hands. My first moment on +horseback! If Darry had guessed it he would have been terribly +concerned; but, as it happened, I knew how to take my seat; I +had watched my mother so often mounting her horse that every +detail was familiar to me; and Darry naturally supposed I knew +what I was about after I was in my seat. The reins were a +little confusing; however, the pony walked off lazily with me +to the head of the glen, and I thought he was an improvement +upon the old pony chaise. Finding myself coming out upon the +avenue, which I did not wish, it became necessary to get at +the practical use of my bridle. I was at some pains to do it; +finally I managed to turn the pony's head round, and we walked +back in the same sober style we had come up. Darry stood by +the stables, smiling and watching me; down among the quarters +the children and old people turned out to look after me; I +walked down as far as Darry's house, turned and came back +again. Darry stood ready to help me dismount; but it was too +pleasant. I went on to the avenue. Just as I turned there, I +caught, as it seemed to me, a glimpse of two ladies, coming +towards me from the house. Involuntarily I gave a sharper pull +at the bridle, and I suppose touched the pony's shoulder with +the switch Darry had put into my hand. The touch so woke him +up, that he shook off his laziness and broke into a short +galloping canter to go back to the stables. This was a new +experience. I thought for the first minute that I certainly +should be thrown off; I seemed to have no hold of anything, +and I was tossed up and down on my saddle in a way that boded +a landing on the ground every next time. + +I was not timid with animals, whatever might be true of me in +other relations. My first comfort was finding that I did not +fall off; then I took heart, and settled myself in the saddle +more securely, gave myself to the motion, and began to think I +should like it by and by. Nevertheless, for this time I was +willing to stop at the stables; but the pony had only just +found how good it was to be moving, and he went by at full +canter. Down the dell, through the quarters, past the +cottages, till I saw Darry's house ahead of me, and began to +think how I _should_ get round again. At that pace I could not. +Could I stop the fellow? I tried, but there was not much +strength in my arms; one or two pulls did no good, and one or +two pulls more did no good; pony cantered on, and I saw we +were making straight for the river. I knew then I must stop +him; I threw so much good will into the handling of my reins +that, to my joy, the pony paused, let himself be turned about +placidly, and took up his leisurely walk again. But now I was +in a hurry, wanting to be dismounted before anybody should +come; and I was a little triumphant, having kept my seat and +turned my horse. Moreover, the walk was not good after that +stirring canter. I would try it again. But it took a little +earnestness now and more than one touch of my whip before the +pony would mind me. Then he obeyed in good style and we +cantered quietly up to where Darry was waiting. The thing was +done. The pony and I had come to an understanding. I was a +rider from that time, without fear or uncertainty. The first +gentle pull on the bridle was obeyed and I came to a stop in +front of Darry and my cousin Preston. + +I have spent a great deal of time to tell of my ride. Yet not +more than its place in my life then deserved. It was my last +half-hour of pleasure for I think many a day. I had cantered +up the slope, all fresh in mind and body, excited and glad +with my achievement and with the pleasure of brisk motion; I +had forgotten everybody and everything disagreeable, or what I +did not forget I disregarded; but just before I stopped I saw +what sent another thrill than that of pleasure tingling +through all my veins. I saw Preston, who had but a moment +before reached the stables, I saw him lift his hand with a +light riding switch he carried, and draw the switch across +Darry's mouth. I shall never forget the coloured man's face, +as he stepped back a pace or two. I understood it afterwards; +I _felt_ it then. There was no resentment; there was no fire of +anger, which I should have expected; there was no manly and no +stolid disregard of what had been done. There was instead a +slight smile, which to this day I cannot bear to recall; it +spoke so much of patient and helpless humiliation; as of one +wincing at the galling of a sore and trying not to show he +winced. Preston took me off my horse, and began to speak. I +turned away from him to Darry, who now held two horses, +Preston having just dismounted; and I thanked him for my +pleasure, throwing into my manner all the studied courtesy I +could. Then I walked up the dell beside Preston, without +looking at him. + +Preston scolded. He had prepared a surprise for me, and was +excited by his disappointment at my mounting without him. Of +course I had not known that; and Darry, who was in the secret, +had not known how to refuse me. I gave Preston no answer to +his charges and reproaches. At last I said I was tired and I +wished he would not talk. + +"Tired! you are something besides tired," he said. + +"I suppose I am," I answered with great deliberation. + +He was eager to know what it was; but then we came out upon +the avenue and were met flush by my aunt and Miss Pinshon. My +aunt inquired, and Preston, who was by no means cool yet, +accused me about the doings of the afternoon. I scarcely +heeded one or the other; but I did feel Miss Pinshon's taking +my I hand and leading me home all the rest of the way. It was +not that I wanted to talk to Preston, for I was not ready to +talk to him; but this holding me like a little child was +excessively distasteful to my habit of freedom. My governess +would not loose her clasp when we got to the house; but kept +fast hold and led me up stairs to my own room. + +CHAPTER IV. + +SEVEN HUNDRED PEOPLE. + + +"Do you think that was a proper thing to do, Daisy?" my +governess asked when she released me. + +"What thing, ma'am?" I asked. + +"To tear about alone on that great grey pony." + +"Yes, ma'am," I said. + +"You think it _was_ proper?" said Miss Pinshon, coolly. "Whom +had you with you?" + +"Nobody was riding with me." + +"Your cousin was there?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"Who then?" + +"I had Uncle Darry. I was only riding up and down the dell." + +"The coachman! And were you riding up and down through the +quarters all the afternoon?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"What were you doing the rest of the time?" + +"I was going about —" I hesitated. + +"About where?" + +"Through the place there." + +"The quarters? Well, you think it proper amusement for your +mother's daughter? You are not to make companions of the +servants, Daisy. You are not to go to the quarters without my +permission, and I shall not give it frequently. Now get +yourself ready for tea." + +I did feel as if Preston's prophecy were coming true and I in +a way to be gradually petrified; some slow, chill work of that +kind seemed already to be going on. But a little thing soon +stirred all the life there was in me. Miss Pinshon stepped to +the door which led from her room into mine, unlocked it, took +out the key, and put it on her own side of the door. I sprang +forward at that, with a word, I do not know what; and my +governess turned her lustrous, unmoved eyes calmly upon me. I +remember now how deadening their look was, in their very +lustre and moveless calm. I begged, however, for a reversal of +her last proceeding; I wanted my door locked sometimes, I +said. + +"You can lock the other door." + +"But I want both locked." + +"I do not. This door remains open, Daisy. I must come in here +when I please. Now make haste and get ready." + +I had no time for anything but to obey. I went down stairs, I +think, like a machine; my body obeying certain laws, while my +mind and spirit were scarcely present. I suppose I behaved +myself as usual; save that I would have nothing to do with +Preston, nor would I receive anything whatever at the table +from his hand. This, however, was known only to him and me. I +said nothing; not the less every word that others said +fastened itself in my memory. I was like a person dreaming. + +"You have just tired yourself with mounting that wild thing, +Daisy," said my aunt Gary. + +"Wild!" said Preston. "About as wild as a tame sloth." + +"I always heard that was very wild indeed," said Miss Pinshon. +"The sloth cannot be tamed, can it?" + +"Being stupid already, I suppose not," said Preston. + +"Daisy looks pale at any rate," said my aunt. + +"A little overdone," said Miss Pinshon. "She wants regular +exercise; but irregular exercise is very trying to any but a +strong person. I think Daisy will be stronger in a few weeks." + +"What sort of exercise do you think will be good for her, +ma'am?" Preston said, with an expression out of all keeping +with his words, it was so fierce. + +"I shall try different sorts," my governess answered, +composedly. "Exercise of patience is a very good thing, Master +Gary. I think gymnastics will be useful for Daisy, too. I +shall try them." + +"That is what I have often said to my sister," said aunt Gary. +"I have no doubt that sort of training would establish Daisy's +strength more than anything in the world. She just wants that, +to develop her and bring out the muscles." + +Preston almost groaned; pushed his chair from the table, and I +knew sat watching me. I would give him no opportunity, for my +opportunity I could not have then. I kept quiet till the +ladies moved; I moved with them; and sat all the evening +abstracted in my own meditations, without paying Preston any +attention; feeling indeed very old and grey, as no doubt I +looked. When I was ordered to bed, Miss Pinshon desired I +would hold no conversation with anybody. Whereupon Preston +took my candle and boldly marched out of the room with me. +When we were upstairs, he tried to make me disobey my orders. +He declared I was turning to stone already; he said a great +many hard words against my governess; threatened he would +write to my father; and when he could not prevail to make me +talk, dashed off passionately and left me. I went trembling +into my room. But my refuge there was gone. I had fallen upon +evil times. My door must not be locked, and Miss Pinshon might +come in any minute. I could not pray. I undressed and went to +bed; and lay there, waiting, all things in order, till my +governess looked in. Then the door was closed, and I hear her +steps moving about in her room. I lay and listened. At last +the door was softly set open again; and then after a few +minutes the sound of regular slow breathing proclaimed that +those wide-open black eyes were really closed for the night. I +got up, went to my governess's door and listened. She was +sleeping profoundly. I laid hold of the handle of the door and +drew it towards me; pulled out the key softly, put it in my +own side of the lock and shut the door. And after all I was +afraid to turn the key. The wicked sound of the lock might +enter those sleeping ears. But the door was closed; and I went +to my old place, the open window. It was not my window at +Melbourne, with balmy summer air, and the dewy scent of the +honeysuckle coming up, and the moonlight flooding all the +world beneath me. But neither was it in the regions of the +North. The night was still and mild, if not balmy; and the +stars were brilliant; and the evergreen oaks were masses of +dark shadow all over the lawn. I do not think I saw them at +first; for my look was up to the sky, where the stars shone +down to greet me, and where it was furthest from all the +troubles on the surface of the earth; and with one thought of +the Friend up there, who does not forget the troubles of even +His little children, the barrier in my heart gave way, my +tears gushed forth; my head lay on the windowsill at Magnolia, +more hopelessly than in my childish sorrow it had ever lain at +Melbourne. I kept my sobs quiet; I must; but they were deep, +heart-breaking sobs, for a long time. + +Prayer got its chance after a while. I had a great deal to +pray for; it seemed to my child's heart now and then as if it +could hardly bear its troubles. And very much I felt I wanted +patience and wisdom. I thought there was a great deal to do, +even for my little hands; and promise of great hindrance and +opposition. And the only one pleasant thing I could think of +in my new life at Magnolia, was that I might tell of the truth +to those poor people who lived in the negro quarters. + +Why I did not make myself immediately ill, with my night's +vigils and sorrow, I cannot tell; unless it were that great +excitement kept off the effects of chill air and damp. +However, the excitement had its own effects; and my eyes were +sadly heavy when they I opened the next morning to look at +Margaret lighting my fire. + +"Margaret," I said, "shut Miss Pinshon's door, will you?" + +She obeyed, and then turning to look at me, exclaimed that I +was not well. + +"Did you say you could not read, Margaret?" was my answer. + +"Read"! no, missis, Guess readin' aint no good for servants. +Seems like Miss Daisy aint lookin' peart, this mornin'." + +"Would you _like_ to read?" + +"Reckon don't care about it, Miss Daisy. Where'd us get books, +most likely?" + +I said I would get the books; but Margaret turned to the fire +and made me no answer. I heard her mutter some ejaculation. + +"Because, Margaret, don't you know," I said, raising myself on +my elbow, "God would like to have you learn to read, so that +you might know the Bible and come to heaven." + +"Reckon folks aint a heap better that knows the Bible," said +the girl. "Pears as if it don't make no difference. Aint +nobody good in _this_ place, 'cept uncle Darry." + +In another minute I was out of bed and standing before the +fire, my hand on her shoulder. I told her I wanted _her_ to be +good too, and that Jesus would make her good, if she would let +Him. Margaret gave me a hasty look and then finished her fire +making; but to my great astonishment, a few minutes after, I +saw that the tears were running down the girl's face. It +astonished me so much that I said no more; and Margaret was as +silent; only dressed me with the greatest attention and +tenderness. + +"Ye want your breakfast bad, Miss Daisy," she remarked then in +a subdued tone; and I suppose my looks justified her words. +They created some excitement when I went down stairs. My aunt +exclaimed; Miss Pinshon inquired; Preston inveighed, at things +in general. He wanted to get me by myself, I knew; but he had +no chance. Immediately after breakfast Miss Pinshon took +possession of me. + +The day was less weary than the day before, only I think +because I was tired beyond impatience or nervous excitement. +Not much was done; for though I was very willing I had very +little power. But the multiplication table, Miss Pinshon said, +was easy work; and at that and reading and writing, the +morning crept away. My hand was trembling, my voice was faint; +my memory grasped nothing so clearly as Margaret's tears that +morning, and Preston's behaviour the preceding day. My cheeks +were pale of course. Miss Pinshon said we would begin to set +that right with a walk after dinner. + +The walk was had; but with my hand clasped in Miss Pinshon's I +only wished myself at home all the way. At home again, after a +while of lying down to rest, I was tried with a beginning of +calisthenics. A trial it was to me. The exercises, directed +and overseen by Miss Pinshon, seemed to me simply intolerable; +a weariness beyond all other weariness. Even the +multiplication table I liked better. Miss Pinshon was tired +perhaps herself at last. She let me go. + +It was towards the end of the day. With no life left in me for +anything, I strolled out into the sunshine; aimlessly at +first; then led by a secret inclination I hardly knew or +questioned, my steps slowly made their way round by the avenue +to the stables. Darry was busy there as I had found him +yesterday. He looked hard at me as I came up; and asked me +earnestly how I felt that afternoon? I told him I was tired; +and then I sat down, on a huge log which lay there and watched +him at his work. By turns I watched the sunlight streaming +along the turf and lighting the foliage of the trees on the +other side of the dell; looking in a kind of dream, as if I +were not Daisy nor this Magnolia in any reality. I suddenly +started and awoke to realities as Darry began to sing — + +"My Father's house is built on high, + +Far, far above the starry sky; + +And though like Lazarus sick and poor, + +My heavenly mansion is secure. + +I'm going home, — + +I'm going home, — + +I'm going home + +To die no more! + +To die no more — + +To die no more — + +I'm going home + +To die no more!" + +The word "home" at the end of each line was dwelt upon in a +prolonged sonorous note. It filled my ear with its melodious, +plaintive breath of repose; it rested and soothed me. I was +listening in a sort of trance, when another sound at my side +both stopped the song and quite broke up the effect. It was +Preston's voice. Now for it. He was all ready for a fight; and +I felt miserably battered and shaken and unfit to fight +anything. + +"What are you doing here, Daisy?" + +"I am doing nothing," I said. + +"It is almost tea-time. Hadn't you better be walking come, +before Medusa comes looking out for you?" + +I rose up, and bade uncle Darry good night. + +"Good night, missis!" he said heartily — "and de morning dat +hab no night, for my dear little missis, by'm by." + +I gave him my hand, and walked on. + +"Stuff!" muttered Preston, by my side. + +"You will not think it 'stuff' when the time comes," I said, +no doubt very gravely. Then Preston burst out. + +"I only wish aunt Felicia was here! You will spoil these +people, Daisy, that's one thing; or you would if you were +older. As it is, you are spoiling yourself." + +I made no answer. He went on with other angry and excited +words, wishing to draw me out perhaps; but I was in no mood to +talk to Preston in any tone but one. I went steadily and +slowly on, without even turning my head to look at him. I had +hardly life enough to talk to him in that tone. + +"Will you tell me what is the matter with you?" he said, at +last, very impatiently. + +"I am tired, I think." + +"Think? Medusa is stiffening the life out of you. _Think_ you +are tired! You are tired to death; but that is not all. What +ails you?" + +"I do not think anything ails me." + +"What ails _me_, then? What is the matter? what makes you act +so? Speak, Daisy — you must speak!" + +I turned about and faced him, and I know I did not speak then +as a child, but with a gravity befitting fifty years. + +"Preston, did you strike Uncle Darry yesterday?" + +"Pooh!" said Preston. But I stood and waited for his answer. + +"Nonsense, Daisy!" he said again. + +"What is nonsense?" + +"Why, _you_. What are you talking about?" + +"I asked you a question." + +"A ridiculous question. You are just absurd." + +"Will you please to answer it?" + +"I don't know whether I will. What have you to do with it?" + +"In the first place, Preston, Darry is not your servant." + +"Upon my word!" said Preston. "But, yes, he is; for mamma is +regent here now. He must do what I order him, anyhow." + +"And then, Preston, Darry is better than you, and will not +defend himself; and somebody ought to defend him; and there is +nobody but me." + +"Defend himself!" echoed Preston. + +"Yes. You insulted him yesterday." + +"Insulted him!" + +"You know you did. You know, Preston, some men would not have +borne it. If Darry had been like some men, he would have +knocked you down." + +"Knock me down!" cried Preston. "The sneaking old scoundrel! +He knows that I would shoot him if he did." + +"I am speaking seriously, Preston. It is no use to talk that +way." + +"I am speaking very seriously," said my cousin. "I would shoot +him, upon my honour." + +"Shoot him!" + +"Certainly." + +"What right have you to shoot a man for doing no worse than +you do? I would _rather_ somebody would knock me down, than do +what you did yesterday!" And my heart swelled within me. + +"Come, Daisy, be a little sensible!" said Preston, who was in +a fume of impatience. "Do you think there is no difference +between me and an old nigger?" + +"A great deal of difference," I said. "He is old and good; and +you are young, and I wish you were as good as Darry. And then +he can't help himself without perhaps losing his place, no +matter how you insult him. I think it is cowardly." + +"Insult!" said Preston. "Lose his place! Heavens and earth, +Daisy! are you such a simpleton?" + +"You insulted him very badly yesterday. I wondered how he bore +it of you; only Darry is a Christian." + +"A fiddlestick!" said Preston impatiently. "He knows he must +bear whatever I choose to give him; and therein he is wiser +than you are." + +"Because he is a Christian," said I. + +"I don't know whether he is a Christian or not; and it is +nothing to the purpose. I don't care what he is." + +"Oh, Preston! he is a good man — he is a servant of God; he +will wear a crown of gold in heaven; — and you have dared to +touch him!" + +"Why, hoity toity!" said Preston. "What concern of mine is all +that! All I know is, that he did not do what I ordered him." + +"What did you order him?" + +"I ordered him not to show you the saddle I had got for you, +till I was there. I was going to surprise you. I am provoked +at him!" + +"I am surprised —" I said. But feeling how little I prevailed +with Preston, and being weak in body as well as mind, I could +not keep back the tears. I began to walk on again, though they +blinded me. + +"Daisy, don't be foolish. If Darry is to wear two crowns in +the other world, he is a servant in this, all the same; and he +must do his duty." + +"I asked for the saddle —" I said. + +"Why, Daisy, Daisy!" Preston exclaimed — "don't be such a +child. You know nothing about it. I didn't touch Darry to hurt +him." + +"It was a sort of hurt that if he had not been a Christian he +would have made you sorry for." + +"He knows I would shoot him if he did," said Preston coolly. + +"Preston, don't speak so!" I pleaded. + +"It is the simple truth. Why shouldn't I speak it?" + +"You do not mean that you would do it?" I said, scarce opening +my eyes to the reality of what he said. + +"I give you my word, I do! If one of these black fellows laid +a hand on me I would put a bullet through him, as quick as a +partridge." + +"But then you would be a murderer —" said I. The ground seemed +taken away from under my feet. We were standing still now, and +facing each other. + +"No, I shouldn't," said Preston. "The law takes better care of +us than that." + +"The law would hang you," said I. + +"I tell you, Daisy, it is no such thing! Gentlemen have a +right to defend themselves against the insolence of these +black fellows." + +"And have not the black fellows a right to defend themselves +against the insolence of gentlemen?" said I. + +"Daisy? you are talking the most unspeakable non- sense," said +Preston, quite put beyond himself now. "_Don't_ you know any +better than that? These people are our servants — they are our +property — we are to do what we like with them; and of course +the law must see that we are protected, or the blacks and the +whites could not live together." + +"A man may be your servant, but he cannot be your property," I +said. + +"Yes, he can! They are our property, just as much as the land +is; our goods, to do what we like with. Didn't you know that?" + +"Property is something that you can buy and sell," I answered. + +"And we sell these people, and buy them too, as fast as we +like." + +"_Sell_ them!" I echoed, thinking of Darry. + +"Certainly." + +"And who would buy them?" + +"Why, all the world; everybody. There has been nobody sold off +the Magnolia estate, I believe, in a long time; but nothing is +more common, Daisy; everybody is doing it everywhere, when he +has got too many servants, or when he has got too few." + +"And do you mean," said I, "that Darry and Margaret and +Theresa and all the rest here, have been _bought?_" + +"No; almost all of them have been born on the place." + +"Then it is not true of these," I said. + +"Yes, it is; for their mothers and fathers were bought. It is +the same thing." + +"Who bought them?" I asked hastily. + +"Why! our mothers, and grandfather and great-grandfather." + +"_Bought_ the fathers and mothers of all these hundreds of +people?" said I, a slow horror creeping into my veins, that +yet held childish blood, and but half comprehended. + +"Certainly — ages ago," said Preston. "Why, Daisy, I thought +you knew all about it." + +"But who sold them first?" said I, my mind in its utter +rejection of what was told me, seeking every refuge from +accepting it. "Who sold them at first?" + +"Who first? Oh, the people that brought them over from Africa, +I suppose; or the people in their own country that sold them +to _them_." + +"They had no right to sell them," I said. + +"Can't tell about that," said Preston. "We bought them. I +suppose we had a right to do that." + +"But if the fathers and mothers were bought," I insisted, +"that gives us no right to have their children." + +"I would like you to ask aunt Felicia or my uncle Randolph +such a question," said Preston. "Just see how they would like +the idea of giving up all their property! Why you would be as +poor as Job, Daisy." + +"The land would be here all the same." + +"Much good the land would do you, without people to work it." + +"But other people could be hired as well as these," I said, +"if any of these wanted to go away." + +"No they couldn't. White people cannot bear the climate nor do +the work. The crops cannot be raised without coloured labour." + +"I do not understand," said I, feeling my child's head +puzzled. "Maybe none of our people would like to go away?" + +"I dare say they wouldn't," said Preston carelessly. "They are +better off here than on most plantations. Uncle Randolph never +forbids his hands to have meat; and some planters do." + +"Forbid them to have meat!" I said in utter bewilderment. + +"Yes." + +"Why?" + +"They think it makes them fractious, and not so easy to +manage. Don't you know, it makes a dog savage to feed him on +raw meat? I suppose cooked meat has the same effect on men." + +"But don't they get what they choose to eat?" + +"Well, I should think not!" said Preston. "Fancy their asking +to be fed on chickens and pound cake. That is what they would +like." + +"But cannot they spend their wages for what they like?" + +"Wages!" said Preston. + +"Yes," said I. + +"My dear Daisy," said Preston, "you are talking of what you +just utterly don't understand; and I am a fool for bothering +you with it. Come! let us make it up and be friends." + +He stooped to kiss me, but I stepped back. + +"Stop," I said. "Tell me — can't they do what they like with +their wages?" + +"I don't think they have wages enough to 'do what they like' +exactly," said Preston. "Why, they would 'Iike' to do nothing. +These black fellows are the laziest things living. They would +'like' to lie in the sun all day long." + +"What wages does Darry have?" I asked. + +"Now, Daisy, this is none of your business. Come, let us go +into the house and let it alone." + +"I want to know, first," said I. + +"Daisy, I never asked. What have I to do with Darry's wages?" + +"I will ask himself," I said; and I turned about to go to the +stables. + +"Stop, Daisy," cried Preston. "Daisy, Daisy! you are the most +obstinate Daisy that ever was, when once you have taken a +thing in your head. Daisy, what have you to do with all this. +Look here — these people don't want wages." + +"Don't want wages!" I repeated. + +"No; they don't want them. What would they do with wages? they +have everything they need given them already; their food and +their clothing and their houses. They do not want anything +more." + +"You said they did not have the food they liked," I objected. + +"Who does?" said Preston. "I am sure I don't, — not more than +one day in seven, on an average." + +"But don't they have any wages at all?" I persisted. "Our +coachman at Melbourne had thirty dollars a month; and Logan +had forty dollars, and his house and garden. Why shouldn't +Darry have wages too? Don't they have any wages at all, +Preston?" + +"Why, yes! they have plenty of corn bread and bacon, I tell +you; and their clothes. Daisy, they _belong_ to you, these +people do." + +Corn bread and bacon was not much like chickens and pound +cake, I thought; and I remembered our servants at Melbourne +were very, very differently dressed from the women I saw about +me here; even in the house. I stood bewildered and pondering. +Preston tried to get me to go on. + +"Why shouldn't they have wages?" I asked at length, with lips +which I believe were growing old with my thoughts. + +"Daisy, they are your servants; they _belong_ to you. They have +no right to wages. Suppose you had to pay all these creatures +— seven hundred of them — as you pay people at Melbourne; how +much do you suppose you would have left to live upon +yourselves? What nonsense it is to talk!" + +"But they work for us," I said. + +"Certainly. There would not be anything for any of us if they +didn't. Here, at Magnolia, they raise rice crops and corn, as +well as cotton; at our place we grow nothing but cotton and +corn." + +"Well, what pays them for working?" + +"I told you! they have their living and clothing and no care; +and they are the happiest creatures the sun shines on." + +"Are they willing to work for only that?" I asked. + +"Willing!" said Preston. + +"Yes," said I, feeling myself grow sick at heart. + +"I fancy nobody asks them that question. They have to work, I +reckon, whether they like it or no." + +"You said they _like_ to lie in the sun. What makes them work?" + +"Makes them!" said Preston, who was getting irritated as well +as impatient. "They get a good flogging if they do not work — +that is all. They know, if they don't do their part, the lash +will come down; and it don't come down easy." + +I suppose I must have looked as if it had come down: on me. +Preston stopped talking and began to take care of me; putting +his arm round me to support my steps homeward. In the verandah +my aunt met us. She immediately decided that I was ill, and +ordered me to go to bed at once. It was the thing of all +others I would have wished to do. It saved me from the +exertion of trying to hold myself up and of speaking and +moving and answering questions. I went to bed in dull misery, +longing to go to sleep and forget all my troubles of mind and +body together; but while the body vested, the mind would not. +That kept the consciousness of its burden; and it was that, +more than any physical ail, which took away my power of +eating, and created instead a wretched sort of half nausea, +which made even rest unrefreshing. As for rest in my mind and +heart, it seemed at that time as if I should never know it +again. Never again! I was a child — I had but vague ideas +respecting even what troubled me; nevertheless I had been +struck, where may few children be struck! in the very core and +quick of my heart's reverence and affection. It had come home +to me that papa was somehow doing wrong. My father was in my +childish thought and belief, the ideal of chivalrous and high- +bred excellence; — and _papa_ was doing wrong. I could not turn +my eyes from the truth; it was before me in too visible a +form. It did not arrange itself in words, either; not at +first; it only pressed upon my heart and brain that seven +hundred people on my father's property were injured, and by +his will, and for his interests. Dimly the consciousness came +to me; slowly it found its way and spread out; its details +before me; bit by bit one point after another came into my +mind to make the whole good; bit by bit one item after another +came in to explain and be explained and to add its quota of +testimony; all making clear and distinct and dazzling before +me the truth which at first it was so hard to grasp. And this +is not the less true because my childish thought at first took +everything vaguely and received it slowly. I was a child and a +simple child; but once getting hold of a clue of truth, my +mind never let it go. Step by step, as a child could, I +followed it out. And the balance of the golden rule, to which +I was accustomed, is an easy one to weigh things in; and even +little hands can manage it. + +For an hour after they put me to bed my heart seemed to grow +chill from minute to minute; and my body, in curious sympathy, +shook as if I had an ague. My aunt and Miss Pinshon came and +went and were busy about me; making me drink negus and putting +hot bricks to my feet. Preston stole in to look at me; but I +gathered that neither then nor afterwards did he reveal to any +one the matter of our conversation the hour before. "Wearied" +— "homesick" — "feeble" — "with no sort of strength to bear +anything" — they said I was. All true, no doubt; and yet I was +not without powers of endurance, even bodily, if my mind gave +a little help. Now the trouble was, that all such help was +wanting. The dark figures of the servants came and went too, +with the others; came and stayed; Margaret and Mammy Theresa +took post in my room, and when they could do nothing for me, +crouched by the fire and spent their cares and energies in +keeping that in full blast. I could hardly bear to see them; +but I had no heart to speak even to ask that they might be +sent away, or for anything else; and I had a sense besides +that it was a gratification to them to be near me; and to +gratify any one of the race I would have borne a good deal of +pain. + +It smites my heart now, to think of those hours. The image of +them is sharp and fresh as if the time were but last night. I +lay with shut eyes, taking in as it seemed to me, additional +loads of trouble with each quarter of an hour; as I thought +and thought and put one and another thing together, of things +past and present, to help my understanding. A child will carry +on that process fast and to far-off results; give her but the +key and set her off on the track of truth with a sufficient +impetus. My happy childlike ignorance and childlike life was +in a measure gone; I had come into the world of vexed +questions, of the oppressor and the oppressed, the full and +the empty, the rich and the poor. I could make nothing at all +of Preston's arguments and reasonings. The logic of expediency +and of consequences carried no weight with me, and as little +the logic of self-interest. I sometimes think a child's vision +is clearer, even in worldly matters, than the eyes of those +can be who have lived long among the fumes and vapours which +rise in these low grounds. Unless the eyes be washed day by +day in the spring of truth, and anointed with unearthly +ointment. The right and the wrong, were the two things that +presented themselves to my view; and oh, my sorrow and +heartbreak was, that papa was in the wrong. I could not +believe it, and yet I could not get rid of it. There were +oppressors and oppressed at the world; and he was one of the +oppressors. There is no sorrow that a child can bear, keener +and more gnawingly bitter than this. It has a sting all its +own, for which there is neither salve nor remedy; and it had +the aggravation, in my case, of the sense of personal +dishonour. The wrong done and the oppression inflicted were +not the whole; there was besides the intolerable sense of +living upon other's gains. It was more than my heart could +bear. + +I could not write as I do, — I could not recall these thoughts +and that time, — if I had not another thought to bring to bear +upon them; a thought which at that time I was not able to +comprehend. It came to me later with its healing, and I have +seen and felt it more clearly as I grew older. I see it very +clearly now. I had not been mistaken in my childish notions of +the loftiness and generosity of my father's character. He was +what I had thought him. Neither was I a whit wrong in my +judgment of the things which it grieved me that he did and +allowed. But I saw afterwards how he, and others, had grown up +and been educated in a system and atmosphere of falsehood, +till he failed to perceive that it was false. His eyes had +lived in the darkness till it seemed quite comfortably light +to him; while to a fresh vision, accustomed to the sun, it was +pure and blank darkness, as thick as night. He followed what +others did and his father had done before him, without any +suspicion that it was an abnormal and morbid condition of +things they were all living in; more especially without a +tinge of misgiving that it might not be a noble, upright and +dignified way of life. But I, his little unreasoning child, +bringing the golden rule of the gospel only to judge of the +doings of hell, shrank back and fell to the ground, in my +heart, to find the one I loved best in the world concerned in +them. + +So when I opened my eyes that night, and looked into the blaze +of the firelight, the dark figures that were there before it +stung me with pain every time; and a every soft word and +tender look on their faces — and I had many a one, both words +and looks — racked my heart in a way that was strange for a +child. The negus put me to sleep at last, or exhaustion did; I +think the latter, for it was very late; and the rest of that +night wore away. + +When I awoke, the two women were there still, just as I had +left them when I went to sleep. I do not know if they sat +there all night, or if they had slept on the floor by my side; +but there they were, and talking softly to one another about +something that caught my attention. I bounced out of bed — +though I was so weak I remember I reeled as I went from my bed +to the fire — and steadied myself by laying my a hand on Mammy +Theresa's shoulder. I demanded of Margaret _what_ she had been +saying? The women both started, with expressions of surprise, +alarm, and tender affection, raised by my ghostly looks, and +begged me to get back into bed again. I stood fast, bearing on +Theresa's shoulder. + +"What was it?" I asked. + +" 'Twarn't nothin', Miss Daisy, dear!" said the girl. + +"Hush! Don't tell me that," I said. "Tell me what it was — +tell me what it was. Nobody shall know; you need not be +afraid; nobody shall know." For I saw a cloud of hesitation in +Margaret's face. + +" 'Twarn't nothin', Miss Daisy — only about Darry." + +"What about Darry?" I said, trembling. + +"He done went and had a praise-meetin'," said Theresa; "and he +knowed it war agin the rules; he knowed that. 'Course he did. +Rules mus' be kep'." + +"Whose rules?" I asked. + +"Laws, honey, 'taint 'cording to rules for we coloured folks +to hold meetin's no how. 'Course, we's ought to 'bey de rules; +dat's clar." + +"Who made the rules?" + +"Who make 'em? Mass' Ed'ards — he make de rules on dis +plantation. Reckon Mass' Randolph, he make 'em a heap +different." + +"Does Mr. Edwards make it a rule that you are not to hold +prayer-meetings?" + +"Can't spec' for to have everyt'ing jus' like de white folks," +said the old woman. "We's no right to 'spect it. But Uncle +Darry, he sot a sight by his praise-meetin'. He's cur'ous, he +is. S'pose Darry's cur'ous." + +"And does anybody say that you shall not have prayer- +meetings?" + +"Laws, honey! What's we got to do wid praise-meetin's or any +sort o' meetin's? We'se got to work. Mass' Ed'ards, he say dat +de meetin's dey makes coloured folks onsettled; and dey don't +hoe de corn good if dey has too much prayin' to do." + +"And does he forbid them then? Doesn't he let you have prayer- +meetings?" + +" 'Taint Mr. Edwards alone, Miss Daisy," said Margaret, +speaking low. "It's agin the law for us to have meetin's +anyhow — 'cept we get leave, and say what house it shall be, +and who's a comin', and what we'se a comin' for. And it's no +use asking Mr. Edwards, 'cause he don't see no reason why +black folks should have meetin's." + +"Did Darry have a prayer-meeting without leave?" I asked. + +" 'Twarn't no count of a meetin'!" said Theresa, a little touch +of scorn, or indignation, coming into her voice; — "and Darry, +he war in his own house prayin'. Dere warn't nobody dere, but +Pete and ole 'Liza, and Maria cook, and dem two Johns dat come +from de lower plantation. Dey couldn't get a strong meetin' +into Uncle Darry's house; 'taint big enough to hold 'em." + +"And what did the overseer do to Darry?" I asked. + +"Laws, Miss Daisy," said Margaret, with a quick look at the +other woman, — "he didn't do nothin' to hurt Darry; he only +want to scare de folks." + +"Dey's done scared —" said Theresa under her breath. + +"What is it?" I said, steadying myself by my hold on Theresa's +shoulder, and feeling that I must stand till I had finished my +enquiry — how did he know about the meeting? and what did he +do to Darry? — Tell me! I must know. I must know, Margaret." + +" 'Spect he was goin' through the quarters, and he heard Darry +at his prayin'," said Margaret. "Darry, he don't mind to keep +his prayers secret, he don't," — she added with a half laugh. +" 'Spect nothin' but they'll bust the walls o' that little +house some day." + +"Dey's powerful!" added Theresa. "But he warn't prayin' no +harm; he was just prayin', 'Dy will be done, on de eart' as it +be in de heaven' — Pete, he tell me. Darry warn't saying +not'ing — he just pray 'Dy will be done.'!" + +"Well?" I said, for Margaret kept silent. + +"And de oberseer, he say — leastways he swore, he did, — dat +his will should be what is done on dis plantation, and he +wouldn't have no such work. He say, dere's nobody to come +togedder after it be dark, if it's two or t'ree, 'cept dey +gets his leave, Mass' Ed'ards, he say; and dey won't get it." + +"But what did he do to Darry?" I could scarcely hold myself on +my feet by this time. + +"He whipped him, I reckon," — said Margaret in a low tone, and +with a dark shadow crossing her face, very different from its +own brown duskiness. + +"He don't have a light hand, Mass' Ed'ards," went on Theresa; +"and he got a sharp new whip. De second stripe, — Pete, he +tell me, — he tell me dis evenin' — and it war wet; and it war +wet enough before he got through. He war mad, I reckon; +certain Mass' Ed'ards, he war mad." + +"_Wet?_" said I. + +"Laws, Miss Daisy," said Margaret, " 'tain't nothin'. Them +whips, they draws the blood easy. Darry, he don't mind." + +I have a recollection of the girl's terrified face, but I +heard nothing more. Such a deadly sickness came over me that +for a minute I must have been near fainting; happily it took +another turn amid the various confused feelings which +oppressed me, and I burst into tears. My eyes had not been wet +through all the hours of the evening and night; my heartache +had been dry. I think I was never very easy to move to tears, +even as a child. But now, well for me perhaps, some element of +the pain I was suffering found the unguarded point — or broke +up the guard. I wept as I have done very few times in my life. +I had thrown myself into Mammy Theresa's lap, in the weakness +which could not support itself, and in an abandonment of grief +which was careless of all the outside world; and there I lay, +clasped in her arms and sobbing. Grief, horror, tender +sympathy, and utter helplessness, striving together; there was +nothing for me at that moment but the woman's refuge and the +child's remedy of weeping. But the weeping was so bitter, so +violent, and so uncontrollable that the women were frightened. +I believe they shut the doors, to keep the sound of my sobs +from reaching other ears; for when I recovered the use of my +senses I saw that they were closed. + +The certain strange relief which tears do bring, they gave to +me. I cannot tell why. My pain was not changed, my +helplessness was not done away; yet at least I had washed my +causes of sorrow in a flood of heart drops, and cleansed them +so somehow from any personal stain. Rather, I was perfectly +exhausted. The women put me to bed, as soon as I would let +them; and Margaret whispered an earnest, "Do, don't, Miss +Daisy, don't say nothin' about the prayer-meetin'!" — I shook +my head; I knew better than to say anything about it. + +All the better not to betray them, and myself, I shut my eyes, +and tried to let my face grow quiet. I had succeeded, I +believe, before my aunt Gary and Miss Pinshon came in. The two +stood looking at me; my aunt in some consternation, my +governess reserving any expression of what she thought. I +fancied she did not trust my honesty. Another time I might +have made an effort to right myself in her opinion; but I was +past that and everything now. It was decided by my aunt that I +had better keep my bed as long as I felt like doing so. + +So I lay there during the long hours of that day. I was glad +to be still, to keep out of the way in a corner, to hear +little and see nothing of what was going on; my own small +world of thoughts was enough to keep me busy. I grew utterly +weary at last of thinking, and gave it up, so far as I could; +submitting passively, in a state of pain sometimes dull and +sometimes acute, to what I had no power to change or remedy. +But my father had, I thought; and at those times my longing +was unspeakable to see him. I was very quiet all that day, I +believe, in spite of the rage of wishes and sorrows within me; +but it was not to be expected I should gain strength. On the +contrary, I think I grew feverish. If I could have laid down +my troubles in prayer! but at first, these troubles, I could +not. The core and root of them being my father's a share in +the rest. And I was not alone; and I had a certain +consciousness that if I allowed myself to go to my little +Bible for help, it would unbar my self-restraint with its +sweet and keen words, and I should give way again before +Margaret and Theresa; and I did not wish that. + +"What shall we do with her?" said my aunt Gary, when she came +to me towards the evening. "She looks like a mere shadow. I +never saw such a change in a child in four weeks — never!" + +"Try a different regimen to-morrow, I think," said my +governess, whose lustrous black eyes looked at me sick, +exactly as they had looked at me well. + +"I shall send for a doctor, if she isn't better," said my +aunt. "She's feverish now." + +"Keeping her bed all day," — said Miss Pinshon. + +"Do you think so?" said my aunt. + +"I have no doubt of it. It is very weakening." + +"Then we will let her get up to-morrow, and see how that will +do." + +They had been gone half an hour, when Preston stole in and +came to the side of my bed, between me and the firelight. + +"Come, Daisy, let us be friends!" he said. And he was stooping +to kiss me; but I put out my hand to keep him back. + +"Not till you have told Darry you are sorry," I said. + +Preston was angry instantly, and stood upright. + +"Ask pardon of a servant!" he said. "You would have the world +upside down directly." + +I thought it was upside down already; but I was too weak and +downhearted to say so. + +"Daisy, Daisy!" said Preston — "And there you lie, looking +like a poor little wood flower that has hardly strength to +hold up its head; and with about as much colour in your +cheeks. Come, Daisy, — kiss me, and let us be friends." + +"If you will do what is right —" I said. + +"I will — always," said Preston; "but this would be wrong, you +know." And he stooped again to kiss me. And again I would not +suffer him. + +"Daisy, you are absurd," said Preston, vibrating between pity +and anger, I think, as he looked at me. "Darry is a servant, +and accustomed to a servant's place. What hurt you so much, +did not hurt him a bit. He knows where he belongs." + +"You don't," — said I. + +"What?" + +"Know anything about it." I remember I spoke very feebly. I +had hardly energy left to speak at all. My words must have +come with a curious contrast between the meaning and the +manner. + +"Know anything, about what, Daisy? You are as oracular and as +immoveable as one of Egypt's monuments; only they are very +hard, and — you are very soft, my dear little Daisy! — and +they are very brown, according to all I have heard, and you +are as white as a wind-flower. One can almost see through you. +What is it I don't know anything about?" + +"I am so tired, Preston!" + +"Yes, but what is it I don't know anything about?" + +"Darry's place — and yours," I said. + +"His place and mine! His place is a servant's, I take it, +belonging to Rudolf Randolph, of Magnolia. I am the unworthy +representative of an old Southern family, and a gentleman. +What have you to say about that?" + +"He is a servant of the Lord of lords," I said; "and his +Master loves him. And He has a house of glory preparing for +him, and a crown of gold, and a white robe, such as the King's +children wear. And he will sit on a throne himself by and by. +Preston, where will _you_ be?" + +These words were said without the least heat of manner — +almost languidly; but they put Preston in a fume. I could not +catch his excitement in the least; but I saw it. He stood up +again, hesitated, opened his mouth to speak and shut it +without speaking, turned and walked away and came back to me. +I did not wait for him then. + +"You have offended one of the King's children," I said; "and +the King is offended." + +"Daisy!" said Preston, in a sort of suppressed fury, "one +would think you had turned Abolitionist; only you never heard +of such a thing." + +"What is it?" said I, shutting my eyes. + +"It is just the meanest and most impudent shape a Northerner +can take; it is the lowest end of creation, an Abolitionist +is; and a Yankee is pretty much the same thing." + +"Dr. Sandford is a Yankee," I remarked. + +"Did you get it from _him?_" Preston asked fiercely. + +"What?" said I, opening my eyes. + +"Your nonsense. Has he taught you to turn Abolitionist?" + +"I have not _turned_ at all," I said. "I wish you would. It is +only the people who are in the wrong that ought to turn." + +"Daisy," said Preston, "you ought never to be away from aunt +Felicia and my uncle. Nobody else can manage you. I don't know +what you will become or what you will do, before they get +back." + +I was silent; and Preston, I suppose, cooled down. He waited +awhile, and then again begged that I would kiss and be +friends. "You see, I am going away to- morrow morning, little +Daisy." + +"I wish you had gone two days ago," I said. + +And my mind did not change, even when the morning came. + +CHAPTER V. + +IN THE KITCHEN. + + +I was ill for days. It was not due to one thing, doubtless, +nor one sorrow; but the whole together. My aunt sent to +Baytown for the old family physician. He came up and looked at +me; and decided that I ought to "play" as much as possible! + +"She isn't a child that likes play," said my aunt. + +"Find some play that she does like, then. Where are her father +and mother?" + +"Just sailed for Europe, a few weeks ago." + +"The best thing would be, for her, to sail after them," said +the old doctor. And he went. + +"We shall have to let her do just as they did at Melbourne," +said my aunt. + +"How was that?" said Miss Pinshon. + +"Let her have just her own way." + +"And what was that ?" + +"Oh, queer," said my aunt. "She is not like other children. +But anything is better than to have her mope to death." + +"I shall try and not have her mope," said Miss Pinshon. + +But she had little chance to adopt her reforming regimen for +some time. It was plain I was not fit for anything but to be +let alone; like a weak plant struggling for its existence. All +you can do with it is to put it in the sun; and my aunt and +governess tacitly agreed upon the same plan of treatment for +me. Now the only thing wanting was sunshine; and it was long +before that could be had. After a day or two I left my bed, +and crept about the house, and out of the house under the +great oaks; where the material sunshine was warm and bright +enough, and caught itself in the grey wreaths of moss that +waved over my head, and seemed to come bodily to woo me to +life and cheer. It lay in the carpet under my feet; it +lingered in the leaves of the thick oaks; it wantoned in the +wind, as the long draperies of moss swung and moved gently to +and fro; but the very sunshine is cold where the ice meets it; +I could get no comfort. The thoughts that had so troubled me +the evening after my long talk with Preston, were always +present with me; they went out and came in with me; I slept +with them, and they met me when I woke. The sight of the +servants was wearying. I shunned Darry and the stables. I had +no heart for my pony. I would have liked to get away from +Magnolia. Yet, be I where I might, it would not alter my +father's position towards these seven hundred people. And +towards how many more? There were his estates in Virginia. + +One of the first things I did, as soon as I could command my +fingers to do it, was to write to him. Not a remonstrance. I +knew better than to touch that. All I ventured, was to implore +that the people who desired it might be allowed to hold +prayer-meetings whenever they liked, and Mr. Edwards be +forbidden to interfere. Also I complained that the inside of +the cabins was not comfortable; that they were bare and empty. +I pleaded for a little bettering of them. It was not a long +letter that I wrote. My sorrow I could not tell, and my love +and my longing were equally beyond the region of words. I +fancy it would have I been thought by Miss Pinshon a very cold +little epistle; but Miss Pinshon did not see it. I wrote it +with weak trembling fingers, and closed it and sealed it and +sent it myself. Then I sank into a helpless, careless, +listless state of body and mind, which was very bad for me; +and there was no physician who could minister to me. I went +wandering about, mostly out of doors, alone with myself and my +sorrow. When I seemed a little stronger than usual, Miss +Pinshon tried the multiplication table; and I tried; but the +spring of my mind was for the time broken. All such trials +came to an end in such weakness and weariness, that my +governess herself was fain to take the book from my hands and +send me out into the sunshine again. + +It was Darry at last who found me one day, and, distressed at +my looks, begged that I would let him bring up my pony. He was +so earnest that I yielded. I got leave, and went to ride. +Darry saddled another horse for himself and went with me. That +first ride did not help me much; but the second time, a little +tide of life began to steal into my veins. Darry encouraged +and instructed me; and when we came, cantering up to the door +of the house, my aunt who was watching there, cried out that I +had a bit of a tinge in my cheeks; and charged Darry to bring +the horses up every day. + +With a little bodily vigour a little strength of mind seemed +to come; a little more power of bearing up against evils, or +of quietly standing under them. After the third time I went to +ride, having come home refreshed, I took my Bible and sat down +on the rug before the fire in my room to read. I had not been +able to get comfort in my Bible all those days; often I had +not liked to try. Right and wrong never met me in more +brilliant colours or startling shadows than within the covers +of that book. But to-day, soothed somehow, I went along with +the familiar words as one listens to old music, with the +soothing process going on all along. Right _was_ right, and +glorious, and would prevail some time; and nothing could +hinder it. And then I came to words which I knew, yet which +had never taken such hold of me before. + +"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your +good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven." + +"_That_ is what I have to do!" I thought immediately. "That is +my part. That is clear. What _I_ have to do, is to let my light +shine. And if the light shines, perhaps it will fall on +something. But what I have to do, is to shine. God has given +me nothing else." + +It was a very simple, child's thought; but it brought +wonderful comfort with it. Doubtless, I would have liked +another part to play. I would have liked — if I could — to +have righted all the wrong in the world; to have broken every +yoke; to have filled every empty house, and built up a fire on +every cold hearth; but that was not what God had given me. All +He had given me, that I could see at the minute, was to shine. +What a little morsel of a light mine was, to be sure! + +It was a good deal of a puzzle to me for days after that, _how_ +I was to shine. What could I do? I was a little child; my only +duties some lessons to learn; not much of that, seeing I had +not strength for it. Certainly, I had sorrows to bear; but +bearing them well did not seem to me to come within the sphere +of _shining_. Who would know that I bore them well? And shining +is meant to be seen. I pondered the matter. + +"When's Christmas, Miss Daisy?" + +Margaret asked this question one morning as she was on her +knees making my fire. Christmas had been so shadowed a point +to me in the distance, I had not looked at it. I stopped to +calculate the days. + +"It will be two weeks from Friday, Margaret." + +"And Friday's to-morrow?" she asked. + +"The day after to-morrow. What do you do at Christmas, +Margaret? all the people?" + +"There aint no great doings, Miss Daisy. The people gets four +days, most of 'em." + +"Four days — for what? —" + +"For what they likes; they don't do no work, those days." + +"And is that all?" + +"No, Miss Daisy, 'taint just all; the women comes up to the +house — it's to the overseer's house now — and every one gets +a bowl o' flour, more or less, 'cordin' to size of family — +and a quart of molasses, and a piece o' pork." + +"And what do they do to make the time pleasant?" I asked. + +"Some on 'em's raised eggs and chickens; and they brings 'em +to the house and sells 'em; and they has the best dinner. Most +times they gets leave to have a meetin'." + +"A prayer-meeting?" I said. + +"Laws, no, Miss Daisy! not 'cept it were uncle Darry and _his_ +set. The others don't make no count of a prayer-meetin'. They +likes to have a white-folks' meetin' and 'joy theirselves." + +I thought very much over these statements; and for the next +two weeks, bowls of flour and quarts of molasses, as Christmas +doings, were mixed up in my mind with the question, how I was +to shine? or rather, alternated with it; and plans began to +turn themselves over and take shape in my thoughts. + +"Margaret," said I, a day or two before Christmas, "can't the +people have those meetings you spoke of, without getting leave +of Mr. Edwards?" + +"Can't have meetin's no how!" Margaret replied decidedly. + +"But, if _I_ wanted to see them, couldn't they, some of them, +come together to see me?" + +"To see Miss Daisy! Reckon Miss Daisy do what she like. 'Spect +Mass' Ed'ards let Miss Daisy 'lone!" + +I was silent, pondering. + +"Maria cook wants to see Miss Daisy bad. She bid me tell Miss +Daisy won't she come down in de kitchen, and see all the works +she's a-doin' for Christmas, and de glorifications?" + +"I? I'll come if I can," I answered. + +I asked my aunt and got easy leave; and Christmas eve I went +down to the kitchen. That was the chosen time when Maria +wished to see me. There was an assembly of servants gathered +in the room, some from out of the house. Darry was there; and +one or two other fine-looking men who were his prayer-meeting +friends. I supposed they were gathered to make merry for +Christmas eve; but, at any rate, they were all eager to see +we, and looked at me with smiles as gentle as have ever fallen +to my share. I felt it and enjoyed it. The effect was of +entering a warm, genial atmosphere, where grace and good will +were on every side; a change very noticeable from the cold and +careless habit of things up stairs. And _grace_ is not a +misapplied epithet; for these children of a luxurious and +beauty-loving race, even in their bondage had not forgotten +all traces of their origin. As I went in, I could not help +giving my hand to Darry; and then, in my childish feeling +towards them and in the tenderness of the Christmas-tide, I +could not help doing the same by all the others who were +present. And I remember now the dignity of mien in some, the +frank ease in others, both graceful and gracious, with which +my civility was met. If a few were a little shy, the rest more +than made it up by their welcome of me and a sort of +politeness which had almost something courtly in it. Darry and +Maria together gave me a seat, in the very centre and glow of +the kitchen light and warmth; and the rest made a half circle +around, leaving Maria's end of the room free for her +operations. + +The kitchen was all aglow with the most splendid of fire of +pine knots it was ever my lot to see. The illumination was +such as threw all gaslights into shade. We were in a great, +stone-flagged room, low-roofed, with dark cupboard doors; not +cheerful, I fancy, in the mere light of day; but nothing could +resist the influence of those pine-knot flames. Maria herself +was a portly fat woman, as far as possible from handsome; but +she looked at me with a whole world of kindness in her dark +face. Indeed, I saw the same kindness more or less shining out +upon me in all the faces there. I cannot tell the mixed joy +and pain that it, and they, gave me. I suppose I showed little +of either, or of anything. + +Maria entertained me with all she had. She brought out for my +view her various rich and immense stores of cakes and pies and +delicacies for the coming festival; told me what was good and +what I must be sure and eat; and what would be good for me. +And then, when that display was over, she began to be very +busy with beating of eggs in a huge wooden bowl; and bade +Darry see to the boiling of the kettle at the fire; and sent +Jem the waiter, for things he was to get up stairs; and all +the while talked to me. She and Darry and one or two more +talked, but especially she and Theresa and Jem; while all the +rest listened and laughed and exclaimed, and seemed to find me +as entertaining as a play. Maria was asking me about my own +little life and experiences before I came to Magnolia; what +sort of a place Melbourne was, and how things there differed +from the things she and the rest knew and were accustomed to +at the South; and about my old June, who had once been an +acquaintance of hers. Smiling at me the while, between the +thrusts of her curiosity, and over my answers, as if for sheer +pleasure she could not keep grave. The other faces were as +interested and as gracious. There was Pete, tall and very +black, and very grave, as Darry was also. There was Jem, full +of life and waggishness, and bright for any exercise of his +wits; and grave shadows used to come over his changeable face +often enough too. There was Margaret, with her sombre beauty; +and old Theresa with her worn old face. I think there was a +certain indescribable reserve of gravity upon them all, but +there was not one whose lips did not part in a white line when +looking at me, nor whose eyes and ears did not watch me with +an interest as benign as it was intent. I had been little +while seated before the kitchen fire of pine knots before I +felt that I was in the midst of a circle of personal friends; +and I feel it now, as I look back and remember them. They +would have done much for me, every one. + +Meanwhile Maria beat and mixed and stirred the things in her +wooden bowl; and by and by ladled out a glassful of rich- +looking, yellow, creamy froth — I did not know what it was, +only it looked beautiful — and presented it to me. + +"Miss Daisy mus' tell Mis' Felissy Maria haint forgot how to +make it — 'spect she haint, anyhow. Dat's for Miss Daisy's +Christmas." + +"It's very nice!" I said. + +"Reckon it is," was the capable answer. + +"Won't you give everybody some, Maria?" For Jem had gone up +stairs with a tray of glasses, and Maria seemed to be resting +upon her labours. + +"Dere'll come down orders for mo', chile; and 'spose I gives +it to de company, what'll Mis' Lisa do wid Maria? I have de +'sponsibility of Christmas." + +"But you can make some more," I said, holding my glass in +waiting. "Do, Maria." + +" 'Spose haint got de 'terials, hey?" + +"What do you want? Aunt Gary will give it to you." And I +begged Jem to go up again and prefer my request to her for the +new filling of Maria's bowl. Jem shrugged his shoulders, but +he went; and I suppose he made a good story of it; for he came +down with whatever was wanted — my aunt Gary was in a mood to +refuse me nothing then — and Maria went anew about the +business of beating and mixing and compounding. + +There was great enjoyment in the kitchen. It was a time of +high festival, what with me and the egg supper. Merriment and +jocularity, a little tide-wave of social excitement, swelled +and broke on all sides of me; making a soft ripply play of fun +and repartee, difficult to describe, and which touched me as +much as it amused. It was very unlike the enjoyment of a set +of white people holding the same social and intellectual +grade. It was the manifestation of another race, less coarse +and animal in their original nature, more sensitive and more +demonstrative, with a strange touch of the luxurious and +refined, for a people whose life has had nothing to do with +luxury and whom refinement leaves on one side as quite beyond +its sphere. But blood is a strange thing; and Ham's children +will show luxurious and aesthetic tastes, take them where you +will. + +"Chillen, I hope you's enjoyed your supper," Maria said, when +the last lingering drops had been secured, and mugs and +glasses were coming back to the kitchen table. + +Words and smiles answered her. "We's had a splendid time, aunt +Maria," said one young man as he set down his glass. He was a +worker in the garden. + +"Den I hope we's all willin' to gib de Lord t'anks for his +goodness. Dere aint a night in de year when it's so proper to +gib de Lord t'anks, as it be dis precious night." + +"It's to-morrow night, aunt Maria," said Pete. "To-morrow's +Christmas night." + +"I don't care! One night's jus' as good as another, you Pete. +And now we's all together, you see, and comfortable together; +and I feel like giving t'anks, I do, to de Lord, for all his +mercies." + +"What's Christmas, anyhow?" asked another. + +"It's jus' de crown o' all de nights in de year. You Solomon, +it's a night dat dey keeps up in heaven. You know nothin' +about it, you poor critter. I done believe you never hearn no +one tell about it. Maybe Miss Daisy wouldn't read us de story, +and de angels, and de shepherds, and dat great light what come +down, and make us feel good for Christmas; and uncle Darry, +he'll t'ank de Lord." + +The last words Were put in a half-questioning form to me, +rather taking for granted that I would readily do what was +requested. And hardly anything the world, I suppose, could +have given me such deep gratification at the moment. Margaret +was sent up stairs to fetch my Bible; the circle closed in +around the fire and me; a circle of listening, waiting, eager, +interested faces; some few of them shone with pleasure or grew +grave with reverent love, while, I read slowly the chapters +that tell of the first Christmas night. I read them from all +the gospels; picking the story out first in one, then in +another; answered sometimes by low words of praise that echoed +but did not interrupt me; — words that were but some dropped +notes of the song that began that night in heaven, and has +been running along the ages since, and is swelling and will +swell into a great chorus of earth and heaven, by and by. And +how glad I was in the words of the story myself, as I went +along. How heart-glad that here, in this region of riches and +hopes not earthly, those around me had as good welcome and as +open entrance, and as free right as I. "There is neither bond +nor free." "And base things of this world, and things which +are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, +to bring to nought things that are." + +I finished my reading at last, amid the hush of my listening +audience. Then Maria called upon Darry to pray, and we all +kneeled down. + +It comes back to me now as I write — the hush, and the +breathing of the fire, and Darry's low voice and imperfect +English. Yes, and the incoming tide of rest and peace and +gladness which began to fill the dry places in my heart, and +rose and swelled till my heart was full. I lost my troubles +and forgot my difficulties. I forgot that my father and mother +were away, for the sense of loneliness was gone. I forgot that +those around me were in bonds, for I felt them free as I, and +inheritors of the same kingdom. I have not often in my life +listened to such a prayer, unless from the same lips. He was +one of those that make you feel that the door is open to their +knocking, and that they always find it so. His words were +seconded — not interrupted, even to my feeling — by low- +breathed echoes of praise and petition; too soft and deep to +leave any doubt of the movement that called them forth. + +There was a quiet gravity upon the company when we rose to our +feet again. I knew I must go; but the kitchen had been the +pleasantest place to me in all Magnolia. I bade them good +night, answered with bows and curtseys and hearty wishes; and +as I passed out of the circle, tall black Pete, looking down +upon me with just a glimmer of white between his lips, added, +"Hope you'll come again." + +A thought darted into my head which brought sunshine with it. +I seemed to see my way begin to open. + +The hope was warm at my heart as soon as I was awake the next +morning. With more comfort than for many days I had known, I +lay and watched Margaret making my fire. Then suddenly I +remembered it was Christmas, and what thanksgivings had been +in heaven about it, and what should be on earth; and a +lingering of the notes of praise I had heard last night made a +sort of still music in the air. But I did not expect at all +that any of the ordinary Christmas festivities would come home +to me, seeing that my father and mother were away. Where +should Christmas festivities come from? So, when Margaret rose +up and showed all her teeth at me, I only thought last night +had given her pleasure; and I suspected nothing, even when she +stepped into the next room and brought in a little table +covered with a shawl, and set it close by my bedside. "Am I to +have breakfast in bed?" I asked. "What is this for?" + +"Dunno, Miss Daisy," said Margaret, with all her white teeth +sparkling; — 'spose Miss Daisy take just a look, and see what +'pears like." + +I felt the colour come into my face. I raised myself on my +elbow and lifted up cautiously one corner of the shawl. +Packages — white paper and brown paper — long and short, large +and small! "O Margaret, take off the shawl, won't you!" I +cried; — "and let me see what is here." + +There was a good deal. But "From papa" caught my eye on a +little parcel. I seized it and unfolded. From papa, and he so +far away! But I guessed the riddle before I could get to the +last of the folds of paper that wrapped and enwrapped a little +morocco case. Papa and mamma, leaving me alone, had made +provision beforehand, that when this time came I might miss +nothing except themselves. They had thought and cared and +arranged for me; and now they were thinking about it, perhaps, +far away somewhere over the sea. I held the morocco case in my +hand a minute or two before I could open it. Then I found a +little watch; my dear little watch! which has gone with me +ever since, and never failed nor played tricks with me. My +mother had put in one of her own chains for me to wear with +it. + +I lay a long time looking and thinking, raised up on my elbow +as I was, before I could leave the watch and go on to anything +else. Margaret spread round my shoulders the shawl which had +covered the Christmas table; and then she stood waiting, with +a good deal more impatience and curiosity than I showed. But +such a world of pleasure and pain gathered round that first +"bit of Christmas" — so many, many thoughts of one and the +other kind — that I for awhile had enough with that. At last I +closed the case, and keeping it yet in one hand, used the +other to make more discoveries. The package labelled "From +mamma," took my attention next; but I could make nothing of +it. An elegant little box, that was all, which I could not +open; only it felt so very heavy that I was persuaded there +must be something extraordinary inside. I could make nothing +of it; it was a beautiful box; that was all. Preston had +brought me a little riding whip; both costly and elegant. I +could not but be much pleased with it. A large, rather soft +package marked with aunt Gary's name, unfolded a riding cap to +match; at least it was exceeding rich and stylish, with a +black feather that waved away in curves that called forth +Margaret's delighted admiration. Nevertheless, I wondered, +while I admired, at my aunt Gary's choice of a present. I had +a straw hat which served all purposes, even of elegance, for +my notions. I was amazed to find that Miss Pinshon had not +forgotten me. There was a decorated pen, wreathed with a cord +of crimson and gold twist, and supplemented with two dangling +tassels. It was excessively pretty, as I thought of aunt +Gary's cap; and _not_ equally convenient. I looked at all these +things while Margaret was dressing me; but the case with the +watch, for the most part, I remember I kept in my hand. + +"Aint you goin' to try it on and see some how pretty it looks, +Miss Daisy?" said my unsatisfied attendant. + +"The cap?" said I. "Oh, I dare say it fits. Aunt Gary knows +how big my head is." + +"Mass' Preston come last night," she went on; "so I reckon +Miss Daisy'll want to wear it by and by." + +"Preston come last night!" I said. "After I was in bed?" — and +feeling that it was indeed Christmas, I finished getting ready +and went down stairs. I made up my mind I might as well be +friends with Preston, and not push any further my displeasure +at his behaviour. So we had a comfortable breakfast. My aunt +was pleased to see me, she said, look so much better. Miss +Pinshon was not given to expressing what she felt; but she +looked at me two or three times without saying anything, which +I suppose meant satisfaction. Preston was in high feather; +making all sorts of plans for my divertisement during the next +few days. I for my part had my own secret cherished plan, +which made my heart beat quicker whenever I thought of it. But +I wanted somebody's counsel and help; and on the whole I +thought my aunt Gary's would be the safest. So after breakfast +I consulted Preston only about my mysterious little box, which +would not open. Was it a paper weight? + +Preston smiled, took up the box and performed some conjuration +upon it, and then — I cannot describe my entranced delight — +as he set it down again on the table, the room seemed to grow +musical. Softest, most liquid sweet notes came pouring forth +one after the other, binding my ears as if I had been in a +state of enchantment. Binding feet and hands and almost my +breath, as I stood hushed and listening to the liquid warbling +of delicious things, until the melody had run itself out. It +was a melody unknown to me; wild and dainty; it came out of a +famous opera I was told afterward. When the fairy notes sunk +into silence, I turned mutely towards Preston. Preston +laughed. + +"I declare!" he said, — "I declare! Hurra! you have got colour +in your cheeks, Daisy; absolutely, my little Daisy! there is a +real streak of pink there where it was so white before." + +"_What_ is it?" said I. + +"Just a little good blood coming up under the skin." + +"Oh, no, Preston — _this_; what is it?" + +"A musical box." + +"But where does the music come from?" + +"Out of the box. See, Daisy; when it has done a tune and is +run out, you must wind it up, so, — like a watch." + +He wound it up and set it on the table again. And again a +melody came forth, and this time it was different; not +plaintive and thoughtful, but jocund and glad; a little shout +and ring of merriment, like the feet of dancers scattering the +drops of dew in a bright morning; or like the chime of a +thousand little silver bells rung for laughter. A sort of +intoxication came into my heart. When Preston would have wound +up the box again, I stopped him. I was full of the delight. I +could not hear any mote just then. + +"Why, Daisy, there are ever so many more tunes." + +"Yes. I am glad. I will have them another time," I answered. +"How very kind of mamma!" + +"Hit the right thing this time, didn't she? How's the riding +cap, Daisy?" + +"It is very nice," I said. "Aunt Gary is very good; and I like +the whip very much, Preston." + +"That fat little rascal will want it. Does the cap fit, +Daisy?" + +"I don't know," I said. "Oh, yes, I suppose so." + +Preston made an exclamation, and forthwith would have it tried +on to see how it looked. It satisfied him; somehow it did not +please me as well; but the ride did, which we had soon after; +and I found that my black feather certainly suited everybody +else. Darry smiled at me, and the house servants were exultant +over my appearance. + +Amid all these distracting pleasures, I kept on the watch for +an opportunity to speak to aunt Gary alone. Christmas day I +could not. I could not get it till near the end of the next +day. + +"Aunt Gary," I said, "I want to consult you about something." + +"You have always something turning about in your head," — was +her answer. + +"Do you think," said I slowly, "Mr. Edwards would have any +objection to some of the people coming to the kitchen Sunday +evenings to hear me read the Bible?" + +"To hear _you_ read the Bible!" said my aunt. + +"Yes, aunt Gary; I think they would like it. You know they +cannot read it for themselves." + +"_They_ would like it. And you would be delighted, wouldn't +you?" + +"Yes, aunt Gary. I should like it better than anything." + +"You are a funny child! There is not a bit of your mother in +you — except your obstinacy." + +And my aunt seemed to ponder my difference. + +"Would Mr. Edwards object to it, do you think? Would he let +them come?" + +"The question is, whether I will let them come. Mr. Edwards +has no business with what is done in the house." + +"But, aunt Gary, you would not have any objection." + +"I don't know, I am sure. I wish your father and mother had +never left you in my charge; for I don't know how to take care +of you." + +"Aunt Gary," I said, "please don't object! There is nobody to +read the Bible to them — and I should like to do it very +much." + +"Yes, I see you would. There — don't get excited about it — +every Sunday evening, did you say?" + +"Yes, ma'am — if you please." + +"Daisy, it will just tire you; that's what it will do. I know +it, just as well as if I had seen it. You are not strong +enough." + +"I am sure it would refresh me, aunt Gary. It did the other +night." + +"The other night?" + +"Christmas eve, ma'am." + +"Did you read to them then?" + +"Yes, ma'am; they wanted to know what Christmas was about." + +"And you read to them. You are the oddest child!" + +"But, aunt Gary, never mind, — it would be the greatest +pleasure to me. Won't you give leave?" + +"The servants hear the Bible read, child, every morning and +every night." + +"Yes, but that is only a very few of the house servants. I +want some of the others to come — a good many, — as many as +can come." + +"I wish your mother and father were here," sighed my aunt. + +"Do you think Mr. Edwards would make any objection?" I asked +again, presuming on the main question being carried. "Would he +let them come?" + +"Let them!" echoed my aunt. "Mr. Edwards would be well +employed, to interfere with anything the family choose to do." + +"But you know he does not let them meet together, the people, +aunt Gary; not unless they have his permission." + +"No, I suppose so. That is his business." + +"Then will you speak to him, ma'am, so that he may not be +angry with the people when they come?" + +"I? No," said my aunt. "I have nothing to do with your +father's overseer. It would just make difficulty maybe, Daisy; +you had better let this scheme of yours alone." + +I could not, without bitter disappointment. Yet I did not know +how further to press the matter. I sat still and said nothing. + +"I declare, if she isn't growing pale about it!" exclaimed my +aunt. "I know one thing, and that is, your father and mother +ought to have taken you along with them. I have not the least +idea how to manage you; not the least. What is it you want to +do, Daisy?" + +I explained, over again. + +"And now if you cannot have this trick of your fancy you will +just fidget yourself sick! I see it. Just as you went driving +all about Melbourne without company to take care of you. I am +sure I don't know. It is not in my way to meddle with +overseers — How many people do you want to read to at once, +Daisy?" + +"As many as I can, aunt Gary. But Mr. Edwards will not let two +or three meet together anywhere." + +"Well, I dare say he is right. You can't believe anything in +the world these people tell you, child. They will lie just as +fast as they will speak." + +"But if they came to see _me_, aunt Gary?" I persisted, waiving +the other question. + +"That's another thing, of course. Well, don't worry. Call +Preston. Why children cannot be children, passes my +comprehension!" + +Preston came, and there was a good deal of discussing of my +plan; at which Preston frowned and whistled, but on the whole, +though I knew against his will, took my part. The end was, my +aunt sent for the overseer. She had some difficulty, I judge, +in carrying the point; and made capital of my ill-health and +delicacy and spoiled-child character. The overseer's unwilling +consent was gained at last; the conditions being, that every +one who came to hear the reading should have a ticket of +leave, written and signed by myself, for each evening; and +that I should be present with the assembly from the beginning +to the close of it. + +My delight was very great. And my aunt, grumbling at the whole +matter and especially at her share in it, found an additional +cause of grumbling in that, she said, I had looked twenty per +cent. better ever since this foolish thing got possession of +my head. "I am wondering," she remarked to Miss Pinshon, +"whatever Daisy will do when she grows up. I expect nothing +but she will be — what do you call them? — one of those people +who run wild over the human race." + +"Pirates?" suggested Preston. "Or corsairs?" + +"Her mother will be disappointed," went on my aunt. "That is +what I confidently expect." + +Miss Pinshon hinted something about the corrective qualities +of mathematics; but I was too happy to heed her or care. I was +stronger and better, I believe, from that day; though I had +not much to boast of. A true tonic had been administered to +me; my fainting energies took a new start. + +I watched my opportunity, and went down to the kitchen one +evening to make my preparations. I found Maria alone and +sitting in state before the fire — which I believe was always +in the kitchen a regal one. I hardly ever saw it anything +else. She welcomed me with great suavity; drew up a chair for +me; and finding I had something to say, sat then quite grave +and still looking into the blaze, while I unfolded my plan. + +"De Lord is bery good!" was her subdued comment, made when I +had done. "He hab sent His angel, sure!" + +"Now, Maria," I went on, "you must tell me who would like to +come next Sundays, you think; and I must make tickets for +them. Every one must have my ticket, with his name on it; and +then there will be no fault found." + +"I s'pose not," said Maria, — "wid Miss Daisy's name on it." + +"Who will come, Maria?" + +"Laws, chile, dere's heaps. Dere's Darry, and Pete — Pete, he +say de meetin' de oder night war 'bout de best meetin' he eber +'tended; he wouldn't miss it for not'ing in de world; he's +sure; and dere's ole 'Lize; and de two Jems — no, dere's _tree_ +Jems dat is ser'ous; and Stark, and Carl and Sharlim —" + +"_Sharlim?_" said I, not knowing that this was the Caffir for +Charlemagne. + +"Sharlim," Maria repeated. "He don' know much; but he has a +leanin' for de good t'ings. And Darry, he can tell who'll +come. I done forget all de folks' names." + +"Why, Maria," I said, "I did not know there were so many +people at Magnolia that cared about the Bible." + +"What has 'um to care for, chile, I should like fur to know. +Dere aint much mo' in _dis_ world." + +"But I thought there were only very few," I said. + +" 'Spose um fifty," said Maria. "Fifty aint much, I reckon, +when dere's all de rest o' de folks what _don't_ care. De Lord's +people is a little people yet, for sure; and de world's a big +place. When de Lord come Hisself, to look for 'em, 'spect He +have to look mighty hard. De world's awful dark." + +That brought to my mind my question. It was odd, no doubt, to +choose an old coloured woman for my adviser; but indeed I had +not much choice; and something had given me a confidence in +Maria's practical wisdom, which early as it had been formed, +nothing ever happened to shake. So, after considering the +fire and the matter a moment, I brought forth my doubt. + +"Maria," said I, "what is the best way — I mean, how can one +let one's light shine?" + +"What Miss Daisy talkin' about?" + +"I mean, — you know what the Bible says — 'Let your light so +shine before men, that they may see your good works and +glorify your Father which is in heaven'?" + +"For sure, I knows dat. Aint much shinin' in dese yere parts. +De people is dark, Miss Daisy; dey don' know. 'Spect dey would +try to shine, some on 'em, ef dey knowed. Feel sure dey +would." + +"But that is what I wanted to ask about, Maria. How ought one +to let one's light shine?" + +I remember now the kind of surveying look the woman gave me. I +do not know what she was thinking of; but she looked at me, up +and down, for a moment, with a wonderfully tender, soft +expression. Then turned away. + +"How let um light shine?" she repeated. "De bestest way, Miss +Daisy, is fur to make him burn good." + +I saw it all immediately; my question never puzzled me again. +Take care that the lamp is trimmed; take care that it is full +of oil; see that the flame mounts clear and steady towards +heaven; and the Lord will set it where its light will fall on +what pleases Him, and where it will reach mayhap, to what you +never dream of. + +CHAPTER VI. + +WINTER AND SUMMER. + + +From the Christmas holidays, I think I began slowly to mend. +My aunt watched me, and grumbled that kitchen amusements and +rides with Darry should prove the medicines most healing and +effectual; but she dared stop neither of them. I believe the +overseer remonstrated on the danger of the night gatherings; +but my aunt Gary had her answer ready, and warned him not to +do anything to hinder me, for I was the apple of my father's +eye. Miss Pinshon, sharing to the full my aunt's discontent, +would have got on horseback, I verily believe, to be with me +in my rides; but she was no rider. The sound of a horse's four +feet always, she confessed, stamped the courage out of her +heart. I was let alone; and the Sunday evenings in the +kitchen, and the bright morning hours in the pine avenues and +oak groves, were my refreshment and my pleasure, and my +strength. + +What there was of it; for I had not much strength to boast for +many a day. Miss Pinshon tried her favorite recipe whenever +she thought she saw a chance, and I did my best with it. But +my education that winter was quite in another line. I could +not bear much arithmetic. Bending over a desk did not agree +with me. Reading aloud to Miss Pinshon never lasted for more +than a little while at a time. So it comes, that my +remembrance of that winter is not filled with school +exercises, and that Miss Pinshon's figure plays but a +subordinate part in its pictures. Instead of that, my memory +brings back first and chiefest of all, the circle of dark +faces round the kitchen light wood fire, and the yellow blaze +on the page from which I read; I a little figure in white, +sitting in the midst among them all. That picture — those +evenings — come back to me, with a kind of hallowed perfume of +truth and hope. Truth, it was in my lips and on my heart; I +was giving it out to those who had it not. And hope, — it was +in more hearts than mine, no doubt; but in mine it beat with +as steady a beat as the tickings of my little watch by my +side, and breathed sweet as the flowers that start in spring +from under the snow. I had often a large circle; and it was +part of my plan, and well carried into execution, that these +evenings of reading should supply also the place of the +missing prayer-meeting. Gradually I drew it on to be so +understood; and then my pieces of reading were scattered along +between the prayers, or sometimes all came at first, followed +by two or three earnest longer prayers from some of those that +were present. And then, without any planning of mine, came in +the singing. Not too much, lest as Maria said, we should "make +de folks up stairs t'ink dere war somethin' oncommon in de +kitchen;" but one or two hymns we would have, so full of +spirit and sweetness that often now-a-days they come back to +me, and I would give very much to hear the like again. So full +of music too. Voices untrained by art, but gifted by nature; +melodious and powerful; that took different parts in the tune, +and carried them through without the jar of a false note or a +false quantity; and a love both of song and of the truth which +made the music mighty. It was the greatest delight to me, that +singing, whether I joined them or only listened. One, — the +thought of it comes over me now and brings the water to my +eyes, — + + +"Am I a soldier of the cross — +Of the cross — +Of he cross — +A follower of the Lamb; +And shall I fear to own his cause, +Own his cause — +Own his cause, — +Or blush to speak His name?" + + +The repetitions at the end of every other line were: both +plaintive and strong; there was no weakness, but some +recognition of what it costs in certain circumstances to "own +His cause." I loved that dearly. But that was only one of +many. + +Also the Bible words were wonderful sweet to me, as I was +giving them out to those who else had a "famine of the word." +Bread to the hungry, is quite another thing from bread on the +tables of the full. + +The winter had worn well on, before I received the answer to +the letter I had written my father about the prayer-meetings +and Mr. Edwards. It was a short answer, not in terms but in +actual extent; showing that my father was not strong and well +yet. It was very kind and tender, as well as short; I felt +that in every word. In substance, however, it told me I had +better let Mr. Edwards alone. He knew what he ought to do, +about the prayer-meetings and about other things; and they +were what I could not judge about. So my letter said. It said +too, that things seemed strange to me because I was unused to +them; and that when I had lived longer at the South they would +cease to be strange, and I would understand them and look upon +them as every one else did. + +I studied and pondered this letter; not greatly disappointed, +for I had had but slender hopes that my petition could work +anything. Yet I had a disappointment to get over. The first +practical use I made of my letter, I went where I could be +alone with it — indeed, I was that when I read it, — but I +went to a solitary lonely place, where I could not be +interrupted; and there I knelt down and prayed, that however +long I might live at the South, I might never get to look upon +evil as anything but evil, nor ever become accustomed to the +things I thought ought not to be, so as not to feel them. I +shall never forget that half hour. It broke my heart that my +father and I should look on such matters with so different +eyes; and with my prayer for myself, which came from the very +bottom of my heart, I poured out also a flood of love and +tears over him, and of petition that he might have better +eyesight one day. Ah yes! and before it should be too late to +right the wrong he was unconsciously doing. + +For now I began to see, in the light of this letter first, +that my father's eyes were not clear but blind in regard to +these matters. And what he said about me led me to think and +believe that his blindness was the effect, not of any +particular hardness or fault in him, but of long teaching and +habit and custom. For I saw that everybody else around me +seemed to take the present condition of things as the true and +best one; only convenient, but natural and proper. Everybody, +that is, who did not suffer by it. I had more than suspicions +that the seven hundred on the estate were of a different mind +here from the half dozen who lived in the mansion; and that +the same relative difference existed on the other plantations +in the neighbourhood. We made visits occasionally, and the +visits were returned. I was not shut out from them, and so had +some chance to observe things within a circle of twenty miles. +Our "neighbourhood" reached so far. And child as I was, I +could not help seeing; and I could not help looking, half +unconsciously, for signs of what lay so close on my heart. + +My father's letter thus held some material of comfort for me, +although it refused my request. Papa would not overset the +overseer's decision about the prayer-meetings. It held +something else. There was a little scrap of a note to aunt +Gary, saying, in the form of an order, that Daisy was to have +ten dollars paid to her every quarter; that Mrs. Gary would +see it done; and would further see that Daisy was not called +upon, by anybody, at any time, to give any account whatever of +her way of spending the same. + + +How I thanked papa for this! How I knew the tender affection +and knowledge of me which had prompted it. How well I +understood what it was meant to do. I had a little private +enjoyment of aunt Gary's disconsolate face and grudging hands +as she bestowed upon me the first ten dollars. It was not that +she loved money so well, but she thought this was another form +of my father's unwise indulging and spoiling of me; and that I +was spoiled already. But I — I saw in vision a large harvest +of joy, to be raised from this small seed crop. + +At first I thought I must lay out a few shillings of my stock +upon a nice purse to keep the whole in. I put the purse down +at the head of the list of things I was making out, for +purchase, the first time I should go to Baytown, or have any +good chance of sending. I had a good deal of consideration +whether I would have a purse or a pocket-book. Then I had an +odd secret pleasure in my diplomatic way of finding out from +Darry and Maria and Margaret what were the wants most pressing +of the sick and the old among the people; or of the +industrious and the enterprising. Getting Darry to talk to me +in my rides, by degrees I came to know the stories and +characters of many of the hands; I picked up hints of a want +or a desire here and there, which Darry thought there was no +human means of meeting, or gratifying. Then, the next time I +had a chance, I brought up these persons and cases to Maria, +and supplemented Darry's hints with her information. Or I +attacked Margaret when she was making my fire, and drew from +her what she knew about the persons in whom I was interested. +So I learned — and put it down in my notebook accordingly — +that Pete could spell out words a little bit, and would like +mainly to read; if only he had a Testament in large type. He +could not manage little print; it bothered him. Also I +learned, that aunt Sarah, a middle-aged woman who worked in +the fields, "wanted terrible to come to de Sabbas meetin's, +but she war' shamed to come, 'cause her feet was mos' half out +of her shoes; and Mr. Ed'ards wouldn't give her no more till +de time come roun'." Sarah had "been and gone and done stuck +her feet in de fire, for to warm 'em, one time when dey was +mighty cold; and she burn her shoes. Learn her better next +time." + +"But does she work every day in the field with her feet only +half covered?" I asked. + +"Laws! she don't care," said Maria. "Taint no use give dem +darkies not'ing; dey not know how to keep' um." + +But this was not Maria's real opinion, I knew. There was often +a strange sort of seeming hard edge of feeling put forth, +which I learned to know pointed a deep, deep, maybe only half- +conscious irony, and was in reality a bitter comment upon +facts. So a pair of new shoes for Sarah went down in my list +with a large print Testament for Pete. Then I found that some +of the people, some of the old ones, who in youth had been +accustomed to it, liked nothing so well as tea; it was +ambrosia and Lethe mingled; and a packet of tea was put in my +list next to the Testament. But the tea must have sugar; and I +could not bear that they should drink it out of mugs, without +any teaspoons; so to please myself I sent for a little delf +ware and a few pewter spoons. Little by little my list grew. I +found that Darry knew something about letters; could write a +bit; and would prize the means of writing as a very rare +treasure and pleasure. And with fingers that almost trembled +with delight, I wrote down paper and pens and a bottle of ink +for Darry. Next, I heard of an old woman at the quarters, who +was ailing and infirm, and I am afraid ill-treated, who at all +events was in need of comfort, and had nothing but straw and +the floor to rest her poor bones on at night. A soft pallet +for her went down instantly on my list; my ink and tears +mingling together as I wrote; and I soon found that my purse +must be cut off from the head of my list for that time. I +never ventured to put it at the head again; nor found a chance +to put it in anywhere else. I spent four winters at Magnolia +after that; and never had a new purse all the time. + +I had to wait awhile for an opportunity to make my purchases; +then had the best in the world, for Darry was sent to Baytown +on business. To him I confided my list and my money, with my +mind on the matter; and I was served to a point and with +absolute secrecy. For that I had insisted on. Darry and Maria +were in my counsels, of course; but the rest of the poor +people knew only by guess who their friend was. Old Sarah +found her new shoes in her hut one evening, and in her noisy +delight declared that "some big angel had come t'rough de +quarters." The cups and saucers it was necessary to own, lest +more talk should have been made about them than at all suited +me; Darry let it be understood that nothing must be said and +nobody must know of the matter; and nobody did; but I took the +greatest enjoyment in hearing from Maria how the old women +(and one or two men) gathered together and were comforted over +their cups of tea. And over the _cups_, Maria said: the cups +and spoons made the tea twice as good; but I doubt their +relish of it was never half so exquisite as mine. I had to +give Pete his Testament; he would not think it the same thing +if he did not have it from my own hand, Maria said; and +Darry's pens and ink likewise. The poor woman for whom I had +got the bed, was, I fear, beyond enjoying anything; but it was +a comfort to me to know that she was lying on it. The people +kept my secret perfectly; my aunt and governess never, I +believe, heard anything of all these doings; I had my +enjoyment to myself. + +And the Sunday evening prayer-meeting grew. Little by little. +Old Sarah and her new shoes were there of course, at once. +Those who first came never failed. And week by week, as I went +into the kitchen with my Bible, I saw a larger circle; found +the room better lined with dark forms and sable faces. They +come up before me now as I write, one and another. I loved +them all. I love them still, for I look to meet many of them +in glory; "where there is neither bond nor free." Nay, that is +_here_ and at present, to all who are in Christ; we do not wait +for heaven, to be all one. + +And they loved me, those poor people. I think Pete had +something the same sort of notion about me that those +Ephesians had of their image of Diana, which they insisted had +fallen from heaven. I used to feel it then, and be amused by +it. + +But I am too long about my story. No wonder I linger, when the +remembrance is so sweet. With this new interest that had come +into my life, my whole life brightened. I was no longer +spiritless. My strength little by little returned. And with +the relief of my heart about my father, my happiness sprung +back almost to its former and usual state when I was at +Melbourne. For I had by this time submitted to my father's and +mother's absence as a thing of necessity, and submitted +entirely. Yet my happiness was a subdued sort of thing; and my +aunt Gary still thought it necessary to be as careful of me, +she said, "as if I were an egg-shell." As I grew stronger, +Miss Pinshon made more and more demands upon my time with her +arithmetic lessons, and other things; but my rides with Darry +were never interfered with, nor my Sunday evening readings; +and indeed all the winter I continued too delicate and feeble +for much school work. My dreaded governess did not have near +so much to do with me as I thought she would. + +The spring was not far advanced before it was necessary for us +to quit Magnolia. The climate after a certain day, or rather +the air, was not thought safe for white people. We left +Magnolia; and went first to Baytown and then to the North. +There our time was spent between one and another of several +watering-places. I longed for Melbourne; but the house was +shut up; we could not go there. The summer was very wearisome +to me. I did not like the houses in which our time was spent, +or the way of life led in them. Neither did Miss Pinshon, I +think; for she was out of her element, and had no chance to +follow her peculiar vocation. Of course, in a public hotel, we +could not have a schoolroom; and with the coming on of warm +weather my strength failed again, so sensibly, that all there +was to do was to give me sea air and bathing, and let me +alone. The bathing I enjoyed; those curling salt waves +breaking over my head, are the one image of anything fresh or +refreshing which my memory has kept. I should have liked the +beach; I did like it; only it was covered with bathers, or +else with promenaders in carriages and on foot, at all times +when I saw it; and though they were amusing, the beach was +spoiled. The hotel rooms were close and hot; I missed all the +dainty freedom and purity of my own home; the people I saw +were, it seemed to me, entirely in keeping with the rooms; +that is, they were stiff and fussy, not quiet and busy. They +were busy after their own fashion indeed; but it always seemed +to me, busy about nothing. The children I saw, too, did not +attract me; and I fear I did not attract them. I was sober- +hearted and low-toned in spirits and strength; while they were +as gay as their elders. And I was dressed according to my +mother's fancy, in childlike style, without hoops, and with my +hair cropped short all over my head. They were stately with +crinoline, and rich with embroidery, stiff with fine dresses +and plumes; while a white frock and a flat straw were all my +adornment, except a sash. I think they did not know what to +make of me; and I am sure I had nothing in common with them; +so we lived very much apart. There was a little variation in +my way of life when Preston came; yet not much. He took me +sometimes to drive, and did once go walking with me oil the +beach; but Preston found a great deal where I found nothing, +and was all the time taken up with people and pleasures; +boating and yachting and fishing expeditions; and I believe +with hops and balls too. But I was always fast asleep at those +times. + +It was a relief to me when the season came to an end, and we +went to New York to make purchases before turning southward. I +had once hoped, that this time, the year's end, might see my +father and mother come home again. That hope had faded and +died a natural death a long while ago. Letters spoke my +father's health not restored; he was languid and spiritless +and lacked vigour; he would try the air of Switzerland; lie +would spend the winter in the Pyrenées! If that did not work +well, my mother hinted, perhaps he would have to try the +effect of a long sea voyage. Hope shrunk into such small +dimensions that it filled but a very little corner of my +heart. Indeed, for the present I quite put it by and did not +look at it. One winter more must pass, at any rate, and maybe +a full year, before I could possibly see my father and mother +at home. I locked the door for the present upon hope; and +turned my thoughts to what things I had left with me. Chiefest +of all theses were my poor friends at Magnolia. My money had +accumulated during the summer; I had a nice little sum to lay +out for them, and in New York I had chance to do it well, and +to do it myself; which was a great additional pleasure. As I +could, bit by bit, when I was with aunt Gary shopping, when I +could get leave to go out alone with a careful servant to +attend me, I searched the shops and catered and bought, for +the comfort and pleasure of — seven hundred! I could do +little. Nay, but it was for so many of those as I could reach +with my weak hands; and I did not despise that good because I +could not reach them all. A few more large print Testaments I +laid in; some copies of the Gospel of John, in soft covers and +good type; a few hymn books. All these cost little. But for +Christmas gifts, and for new things to give help and comfort +to my poor pensioners, I both plagued and bewitched my brain. +It was sweet work. My heart went out towards making all the +people happy for once, at Christmas; but my purse would not +stretch so far; I had to let that go, with a thought and a +sigh. + +One new thing came very happily into my head, and was worth a +Peruvian mine to me, in the pleasure and business it gave. +Going into a large greenhouse with my aunt, who wanted to +order a bouquet, I went wandering round the place while she +made her bargain. For my aunt Gary made a bargain of +everything. Wandering in thought as well, whither the sweet +breath of the roses and geraniums led me, I went back to Molly +in her cottage at Melbourne, and the Jewess geranium I had +carried her, and the rose tree; and suddenly the thought +started into my head, might not my dark friends at Magnolia, +so quick to see and enjoy anything of beauty that came in +their way — so fond of bright colour and grace and elegance — +a luxurious race, even in their downtrodden condition; might +not _they_ also feel the sweetness of a rose, or delight in the +petals of a tulip? It was a great idea; it grew into a full +formed purpose before I was called to follow aunt Gary out of +the greenhouse. The next day I went there on my own account. I +was sure I knew what I wanted to do; but I studied a long time +the best way of doing it. Roses? I could hardly transport pots +and trees so far; they were too cumbersome. Geraniums were +open to the same objection, besides being a little tender as +to the cold. Flower seeds could not be sown, if the people had +them; for no patch of garden belonged to their stone huts, +and they had no time to cultivate such a patch if they had it. +I must give what would call for no care, to speak of, and make +no demands upon overtasked strength and time. Neither could I +afford to take anything of such bulk as would draw attention +or call out questions and comments. I knew, as well as I know +now, what would be thought of any plan or action which +supposed _a love of the beautiful_ in creatures the only earthly +use of whom was to raise rice and cotton; who in fact were not +half so important as the harvests they grew. I knew what +unbounded scorn would visit any attempts of mine to minister +to an aesthetic taste in these creatures; and I was in no +mind to call it out upon myself. All the while I knew better. +I knew that Margaret and Stephanie could put on a turban like +no white woman I ever saw. I knew that even Marie could take +the full effect of my dress when I was decked — as I was +sometimes — for a dinner party; and that no fall of lace or +knot of ribband missed its errand to her eye. I knew that a +_picture_ raised the liveliest interest in all my circle of +Sunday hearers; and that they were quick to understand and +keen to take its bearings, far more then Molly Skelton would +have been, more than Logan, our Scotch gardener at Melbourne, +or than my little old friend Hephzibah and her mother. But the +question stood, in what form could I carry beauty to them out +of a florist's shop? I was fain to take the florist into my +partial confidence. It was well that I did. He at once +suggested bulbs. Bulbs! would they require much care? Hardly +any; no trouble at all. They could be easily transported; +easily kept. All they wanted, was a little pot of earth when I +was ready to plant them; a little judicious watering; an +unbounded supply of sunshine. And what sorts of bulbs were +there? I asked diplomatically; not myself knowing, to tell +truth, what bulbs were at all. Plenty of sorts, the florist +said; there were hyacinths — all colours — and tulips, +striped and plain, and very gay; and crocuses, those were of +nearly all colours too; and ranunculus, and anemones, and +snowdrops. Snowdrops were white; but of several of the other +kinds I could have every tint in the rainbow, both alone and +mixed. The florist stood waiting my pleasure, and nipped off a +dead leaf or two as he spoke, as if there was no hurry and I +could tale my time. I went into happy calculation, as to how +far my funds would reach; gave my orders, very slowly and very +carefully; and went away the owner of a nice little stock of +tulips, narcissus, crocuses, and above all, hyacinths. I chose +gay tints, and at the same time inexpensive kinds; so that my +stock was quite large enough for my purposes; it mattered +nothing to me whether a sweet double hyacinth was of a new or +an old kind, provided it was of first-rate quality; and I +confess it matters almost as little to me now. At any rate, I +went home a satisfied child; and figuratively speaking, dined +and supped off tulips and hyacinths, instead of mutton and +bread and butter. + +That afternoon it fell out that my aunt took me with her to a +milliner's on some business. In the course of it, some talk +arose about feathers and the value of them; and my aunt made +a remark which, like Wat Tyrrell's arrow, glanced from its aim +and did execution in a quarter undreamed of. + +"That feather you put in the little riding cap you sent me," +she said to the milliner, — "your black feather, Daisy, you +know, — you charged me but fifteen dollars for that; why is +this so much more?" + +I did not hear the milliner's answer. My whole thought went +off upon a track entirely new to me, and never entered before. +My feather cost fifteen dollars! Fifteen dollars! Supposing I +had that to buy tulips with? or in case I had already tulips +enough, suppose I had it to buy print gowns for Christmas +presents to the women, which I had desired and could not +afford? Or that I had it to lay out in tea and sugar, that my +poor old friends might oftener have the one solace that was +left to them, or that more might share it? Fifteen dollars! It +was equal to one quarter and a half's allowance. My fund for +more than a third of the year would be doubled, if I could +turn that black feather into silver or gold again. And the +feather was of no particular use, that I could see. It made me +look like the heiress of Magnolia, my aunt said; but neither +could I see any use in _that_. Everybody knew, that is, all the +servants and friends of the family knew, that I was that +heiress; I needed no black feather to proclaim it. And now it +seemed to me as if my riding cap was heavy with undeveloped +bulbs, uncrystallised sugar, unweighed green tea. No +transformation of the feather was possible; it must wave over +my brow in its old fashion, whether it were a misguided +feather or not; but my thoughts, once set a going in this +train, found a great deal to do. Truth to tell, they have not +done it all yet. + +"Aunt Gary," I said that same evening, musing over the things +in my boxes, — "does lace cost much?" + +"That is like the countryman who asked me once, if it took +long to play a piece of music! Daisy, don't you know any more +about lace than to ask such a question?" + +"I don't know what it costs, aunt Gary. I never bought any." + +"Bought! No; hardly. You are hardly at the age to _buy_ lace +yet. But you have worn a good deal of it." + +"I cannot tell what it costs by looking at it," I answered. + +"Well, _I_ can. And you will, one day, I hope; if you ever do +anything like other people." + +"Is it costly, ma'am?" + +"Your lace is rather costly," my aunt said, with a tone which +I felt implied satisfaction. + +"How much?" I asked. + +"How much does it cost? Why it is the countryman's question +over again, Daisy. Lace is all sort of prices. But the lace +you wear, is, I judge, somewhere about three and five, and one +of your dresses, ten, dollars a yard. That is pretty rich lace +for a young lady of your years to wear." + +I never wore it, I must explain, unless in small quantity, +except on state occasions when my mother dressed me as a part +of herself. + +"No, I am wrong," my aunt added presently; "that dress I am +thinking of is richer than that; the lace on that robe was +never bought for ten dollars, or fifteen either. What do you +want to know about it for, Daisy?" + +I mused a great deal. Three and five, and ten, and fifteen +dollars a yard, on lace trimmings for me, and no tea, no cups +and saucers, no soft bed, no gardens and flowers, for many, +who were near me. I began to fill the meshes of my lace with +responsibilities too heavy for the delicate fabric to bear. +Nobody liked the looks of it better than I did. I always had a +fancy for lace, though not for feathers; its rich, delicate, +soft falls, to my notion, suited my mother's form and style +better than anything else, and suited me. My taste found no +fault. But now that so much gold was wrought into its slight +web, and so much silver lay hidden in every embroidered +flower, the thing was changed. Graceful, and becoming, and +elegant, more than any other adornment; what then? My mother +and father had a great deal of money too, to spare; enough, I +thought, for lace and for the above tea and sugar too; what +then? And what if not enough? I pondered, till my aunt Gary +broke out upon me, that I would grow a wizened old woman if I +sat musing at that rate; and sent me to bed. It stopped my +pondering for that night; but not for all the years since that +night. + +My preparations were quite made before my aunt got her +feathers adjusted to her satisfaction; and in the bright days +of autumn we went back again to Magnolia. This was a joyful +journey and a glad arriving, compared to last year; and the +welcome I got was something which puzzled my heart between joy +and sorrow many times during the first few days. + +And now Miss Pinshon's reign fairly began. I was stronger in +health, accustomed to my circumstances; there was no longer +any reason that the multiplication table and I should be +parted. My governess was determined to make up for lost time; +and the days of that winter were spent by me between the study +table and fire. That is, when I think of that winter my memory +finds me there. Multiplication and its correlatives were the +staple of existence; and the old book room of my grandfather +was the place where my harvests of learning were sown and +reaped. + +Somehow, I do not think the crops were heavy. I tried my best; +and Miss Pinshon certainly tried her best. I went through and +over immense fields of figures; but I fancy the soil did not +suit the growth. I know the fruits were not satisfactory to +myself, and indeed were not fruits at all, to my sense of them; +but rather dry husks and hard nut shells, with the most +tasteless of small kernels inside. Yet Miss Pinshon did not +seem unsatisfied; and indeed occasionally remarked that she +believed I meant to be a good child. Perhaps that was +something out of my governess' former experience; for it was +the only style of commendation I ever knew her indulge in, and +I always took it as a compliment. + +It would not do to tell all my childish life that winter. I +should never get through. For a child has as many experiences +in her little world as people of fifty years old have in +theirs; and to her they are not little experiences. It was not +a small trial of mind and body to spend the long mornings in +the study over the curious matters Miss Pinshon found for my +attention; and after the long morning the shorter afternoon +session was unmixed weariness. Yet I suffered most in the +morning; because then there was some life and energy within me +which rebelled against confinement, and panted to be free and +in the open air, looking after the very different work I could +find or make for myself. My feet longed for the turf; my +fingers wanted to throw down the slate pencil and gather up +the reins. I had a good fire and a pleasant room; but I wanted +to be abroad in the open sunshine, to feel the sweet breath of +the air in my face, and see the grey moss wave in the wind. +That was what I had been used to all my life; a sweet wild +roaming about, to pick up whatever pleasure presented itself. +I suppose Miss Pinshon herself had never been used to it nor +known it; for she did not seem to guess at what was in my +mind. But it made my mornings hard to get through. By the +afternoon the spirit was so utterly gone out of me and of +everything, that I took it all in a mechanical stupid way; and +only my back's aching made me impatient for the time to end. + +I think I was fond of knowledge and fond of learning. I am +sure of it, for I love it dearly still. But there was no joy +about it at Magnolia. History, as I found it with my +governess, was not in the least like the history I had planned +on my tray of sand, and pointed out with red and black headed +pins. There was life and stir in that, and progress. Now there +was nothing but a string of names and dates to say to Miss +Pinshon. And dates were hard to remember, and did not seem to +mean anything. But Miss Pinshon's favourite idea was +mathematics. It was not my favourite idea; so every day I +wandered through a wilderness of figures and signs which were +a weariness to my mind and furnished no food for it. Nothing +was pleasant to me in my schoolroom, excepting my writing +lessons. They were welcomed as a relief from other things. + +When the studies for the day were done, the next thing was to +prepare for a walk. A walk with Miss Pinshon alone, for my +aunt never joined us. Indeed, this winter my aunt was not +infrequently away from Magnolia altogether; finding Baytown +more diverting. It made a little difference to me; for when +she was not at home, the whole day, morning, afternoon and +evening, meal times and all times, seemed under a leaden grey +sky. Miss Pinshon discussed natural history to me when we were +walking — not the thing but the science; she asked me +questions in geography when we were eating breakfast, and +talked over some puzzle in arithmetic when we were at dinner. +I think it was refreshing to her; she liked it; but to me, the +sky closed over me in lead colour, one unbroken vault, as I +said, when my aunt was away. With her at home, all this could +not be; and any changes of colour were refreshing. All this +was not very good for me. My rides with Darry would have been +a great help; but now I only got a chance at them now and +then. I grew spiritless and weary. Sundays I would have begged +to be allowed to stay at home all day and rest; but I knew if +I pleaded fatigue my evenings with the people in the kitchen +would be immediately cut off; not my drives to church. Miss +Pinshon always drove the six miles to Bolingbroke every Sunday +morning, and took me with her. Oh how long the miles were! how +weary I was, with my back aching, and trying to find a +comfortable corner in the carriage; how I wanted to lie down +on the soft cushions in the pew and go to sleep during the +service. And when the miles home were finished, it seemed to +me that so was I. Then I used to pray to have strength in the +evening to read with the people. And I always had it; or at +least I always did it. I never failed; though the rest of the +Sunday hours were often spent on the bed. But indeed, that +Sunday evening reading was the one thing that saved my life +from growing, or settling, into a petrifaction. Those hours +gave me cheer, and some spirit to begin again on Monday +morning. + +However, I was not thriving. I know I was losing colour, and +sinking in strength, day by day; yet very gradually; so that +my governess never noticed it. My aunt sometimes on her return +from an absence that had been longer than common, looked at me +uneasily. + +"Miss Pinshon, what ails that child?" she would ask. + +My governess said, "nothing." Miss Pinshon was the most +immovable person, I think, I have ever known. At least, so far +as one could judge from the outside. + +"She looks to me," my aunt went on, "exactly like a cabbage, +or something else, that has been blanched under a barrel. A +kind of unhealthy colour. She is not strong." + +"She has more strength than she shows," my governess answered. +"Daisy has a good deal of strength." + +"Do you think so ?" said my aunt, looking doubtfully at me. +But she was comforted. And neither of them asked me about it. + +One thing in the early half of the winter was a great help; +and for awhile stayed my flitting spirits and strength. My +father wrote an order, that Daisy should make arrangements for +giving all the people on the plantation a great entertainment +at Christmas. I was to do what I liked and have whatever I +chose too desire; no one altering or interfering with my word. +I shall never forget the overflowing of largest joy, with +which my heart swelled as I ran in to tell this news to aunt +Gary. But first I had to kneel down and give thanks for it. + +I never saw my aunt more displeased about anything. Miss +Pinshon only lifted up her black eyes and looked me over. They +did not express curiosity or anything else; only observation. +My aunt spoke out. + +"I think there must be some mistake, Daisy." + +"No, aunt Gary; papa says just that." + +"You mean the house servants, child." + +"No, ma'am; papa, says everyone; all the people on the place." + +"He means the white people, you foolish child; everybody's +head is not full of the servants, as yours is." + +"He says, the coloured people, aunt Gary; all of them. It is +only the coloured people." + +"Hear her!" said my aunt. "Now she would rather entertain +them, I don't doubt, than the best company that could be +gathered of her own sort." + +I certainly would. Did I not think with joy at that very +minute of the words, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the +least of _these_, ye have done it unto Me"? I knew what Guest +would be among my poor despised company. But I said not a +word. + +"Daisy," said my aunt, "you _must_ be under a mistake; you must +let me see what your father says. Why, to give all these +hundreds an entertainment, it would cost — have you any idea +what it would cost?" + +I had not indeed. But my father's letter had mentioned a sum +which was to be the limit of my expenditure; within which I +was to be unlimited. It was a large sum, amounting to several +hundreds, and amply sufficient for all I could wish to do. I +told my aunt. + +"Well!" she said, twisting herself round to the fire, "if your +father has money to fling about like that, I have of course no +more to say." + +Miss Pinshon looked up again at me. Those black eyes were +always the same; the eyelids never drooped over them. "What +are you going to do, Daisy?" she asked. + +Truly I did not know yet. I gave my aunt a note to the +overseer from my father, which I begged her to forward; and +ran away to take sweet counsel with myself. + +I had had some little experience of such an entertainment in +the strawberry festival at Melbourne. I remembered that good +things to eat and drink were sure to be enjoyed, and not these +only, but also a pretty and festive air thrown about these +things. And much more would this be true among the beauty- +loving and luxurious-natured children of the tropics, than +with the comparatively barbarous Celtic blood. But between +entertaining thirty and seven hundred, there was a difference. +And between the season of roses and fruits, and the time of +mid-winter, even though in a southern clime, there was another +wide difference. I had need of a great deal of counsel-taking +with myself; and I took it; and it was very good for me. In +every interval between mathematical or arithmetical problems, +my mind ran off to this other one, with infinite refreshment. + +Then I consulted Maria; she was a great help to me. I thought +at first I should have to build a place to hold our gatherings +in; the home kitchen was not a quarter large enough. But Darry +told me of an empty barn not far off, that was roomy and +clean. By virtue of my full powers, I seized upon this barn. I +had it well warmed with stoves; Darry saw to that for me and +that they were well and safely put up; I had it adorned and +clothed and made gay with evergreens and flowers, till it was +beautiful. The carpenters on the place put up long tables and +fitted plenty of seats. Then I had some rough kitchens +extemporised outside of it; and sent for loads of turkeys from +Baytown; and for days before and after Christmas my band of +cooks were busy, roasting and baking and cake-making. Coffee +was brewed without measure, as if we had been a nation of +Arabs. And then tickets were furnished to all the people on +the place, tickets of admission; and for all the holidays, or +for Christmas and three days after, I kept open house at the +barn. Night and day I kept open house. I went and came myself, +knowing that the sight of me hindered nobody's pleasure; but I +let in no other white person, and I believe I gained the +lasting ill will of the overseer by refusing him. I stood +responsible for everybody's good behaviour, and had no +forfeits to pay. And enjoyment reigned, during those days in +the barn; a gay enjoyment, full of talk and of singing as well +as of feasting; full of laughter and jokes, and full of utmost +good-humour and kindness from one to another. Again, most +unlike a party of Celtic origin. It was enjoyment to me too; +very great; — though dashed continually by the thought how +rare and strange it was to those around me. Only for my sake, +and dependent on my little hand of power; having no guarantee +or security else for its ever coming again. As the holiday +drew near its end, my heart grew sore often at the thought of +all my poor friends going back into their toil, hopeless and +spiritless as it was, without one ray to brighten the whole +year before them till Christmas should come round again. Ay, +and this feeling was quickened every now and then by a word, +or a look, or a tone, which told me that I was not the only +one who remembered it. "Christmas is almos' gone, Tony," I +heard one fine fellow say to another at the end of the third +day; and under the words there was a thread of meaning which +gave a twitch to my heartstrings. There were bursts of song +mingled with all this, which I could not bear to hear. In the +prayer-meetings I did not mind them; here, in the midst of +festivities, they almost choked me. "I'm going home" — sounded +now so much as if it were in a strange land; and once when a +chorus of them were singing, deep and slow, the refrain, — + + +"In the morning — +Chil'len, in the morning —" + + +I had a great heartbreak, and sat down and cried behind my +sugarplums. + +I can bear to think of it all now. There were years when I +could not. + +After this entertainment was over, and much more stupid ones +had been given among polished people at the house, and the New +Year had swept in upon us with its fresh breeze of life and +congratulations, the winter and Miss Pinshon settled down for +unbroken sway. + +I had little to help me during those months from abroad. That +is, I had nothing. My father wrote seldom. My mother's letters +had small comfort for me. They said that papa's health mended +slowly — was very delicate — he could not bear much exertion — +his head would not endure any excitement. They were trying +constant changes of scene and air. They were at Spa, at Paris, +at Florence, at Vevay, in the Pyrenées; not staying long +anywhere. The physicians talked of a long sea voyage. From all +which I gradually brought down my hopes into smaller and +smaller compass; till finally I packed them up and stowed +them away in the hidden furthermost corner of my heart; only +to be brought out and looked at when there should be occasion. +Spring came without the least prospect that such occasion +would be given me soon. My father and mother were making +preparation to journey in Norway; and already there was talk +of a third winter in Egypt! It was hoped that all these +changes were not without some slow and certain effect in the +way of improvement. I think on me they had another sort of +effect. + +Spring as usual drove us away from Magnolia. This summer was +spent with my aunt Gary, at various pleasant and cool up- +country places; where hills were, and brooks, and sweet air, +and flowers; and where I might have found much to enjoy. But +always Miss Pinshon was with me; and the quiet and freedom of +these places, with the comparative cool climate, made it +possible for her to carry on all her schemes for my +improvement just as steadily as though we had been at +Magnolia. And I had not Darry and my pony, which indeed, the +latter, had been of small use to me this year; and I had not +my band of friends on the Sunday evening; and even my own maid +Margaret aunt Gary had chosen to leave behind. Miss Pinshon's +reign was absolute. I think some of the Medusa properties +Preston used to talk about must have had their effect upon me +at this time. I remember little of all that summer, save the +work for Miss Pinshon, and the walks with Miss Pinshon, and a +general impression of those black eyes and inflexible voice, +and mathematics and dates, and a dull round of lesson getting. +Not knowledge getting; — that would have been quite another +affair. I seemed to be all the while putting up a scaffolding, +and never coming to work on the actual Temple of Learning +itself. I know we were in beautiful regions that summer; but +my recollection is not of them but of rows of figures. And of +a very grave, I think dull, and very quiet little personage, +who went about like a mouse, for silentness, and gave no +trouble to anybody, excepting only to herself. + +The next winter passed as the winter before had done; only I +had no Christmas entertainment. My father and mother were in +Egypt; perhaps he did not think of it. Perhaps he did not feel +that he could afford it. Perhaps my aunt and the overseer had +severally made representations to which my father thought it +best to listen. I had no festivities at any rate for my poor +coloured people; and it made my own holidays a very shaded +thing. + +I found, however, this winter one source of amusement, and in +a measure, of comfort. In the bookcases which held my +grandfather's library, there was a pretty large collection of +books of travel. I wanted to know just then about Egypt, that +I might the better in imagination follow my father and mother. +I searched the shelves for Egypt; and was lucky enough to +light upon several works of authority and then recent +observation. I feasted on these. I began in the middle; then +very soon went back to the beginning; and read delightedly, +carefully, patiently, through every detail and discussion in +which the various authors indulged. Then I turned all their +pictures into living panorama; for I fancied my father and +mother in every place, looking at every wonder they described; +and I enjoyed not merely what they described, but my father's +and mother's enjoyment of it. This was a rare delight to me. +My favourite place was the corner of the study fire, at dusk, +when lessons and tiresome walks for the day were done, and +Miss Pinshon was taking her ease elsewhere in some other way. +I had the fire made up to burn brightly, and pine knots at +hand to throw on if wanted; and with the illumination dancing +all over my page, I went off to regions of enchantment, +pleasant to me beyond any fairy tale. I never cared much for +things that were not true. No chambers of Arabian fancy could +have had the fascination for me of those old Egyptian halls; +nor all the marvels of magic entranced me like the wonder- +working hand of time. Those books made my comfort and my +diversion all the winter. For I was not a galloping reader; I +went patiently through every page; and the volumes were many +enough and interesting enough to last me long. I dreamed under +the Sphynx; I wandered over the pyramids; no chamber nor nook +escaped me; I could have guided a traveller — in imagination. +I knew the prospect from the top, though I never wrote my name +there. It seemed to me that _that_ was barbarism. I sailed up +the Nile, — delightful journeys on board the Nile boats, — +forgetting Miss Pinshon and mathematics, except when I rather +pitied the ancient Egyptians for being so devoted to the +latter; forgetting Magnolia, and all the home things I could +not do and would have liked to do; forgetting everything, and +rapt in the enjoyment of tropical airy, and Eastern skies; +hearing the plash of water from the everlasting _shadoof_, and +watching the tints and colours on the ranges of hills +bordering the Nile valley. All _my_ hills were green; the hues +of those others were enough of themselves to make an enchanted +land. Still more, as I stopped at the various old temples +along the way, my feeling of enchantment increased. I threaded +the mazes of rubbish, and traced the plans of the ruins of +Thebes, till I was at home in every part of them. I studied +the hieroglyphics and the descriptions of the sculptures, till +the names of Thothmes III, and Amunoph III, and Sethos and +Rameses, Miamun and Rameses III, were as well known to me as +the names of the friends whom I met every Sunday evening. I +even studied out the old Egyptian mythology, the better to be +able to understand the sculptures, as well as the character of +those ancient people who wrought them; and to be able to fancy +the sort of services that were celebrated by the priests in +the splendid enclosures of the temples. + +And then I went higher up the Nile and watched at the +uncovering of those wonderful colossal figures which stand, or +sit, before the temple of Abou-Simbel. I tried to imagine what +manner of things such large statues could be; I longed for one +sight of the faces, said to be so superb, which showed what +the great Rameses looked like. Mamma and papa could see them; +that was a great joy. Belzoni was one of my prime favourites; +and I liked particularly to travel with him, both there and at +the Tombs of the Kings. There were some engravings scattered +through the various volumes, and a good many plans, which +helped me. I studied them, faithfully; and got from them all +they could give me. + +In the Tombs of the Kings, my childish imagination found, I +think, its highest point of revelling and delight. Those were +something stranger, more wonderful, and more splendid, even +than Abou-Simbel and Karnak, Many an evening, while the +firelight from a Southern pine knot danced on my page, I was +gone on the wings of fancy thousands of miles away; and went +with discoverers or explorers, up and down the passages and +halls and staircases and chambers, to which the entrance is +from _Biban el Malook_. I wondered over the empty sarcophagi; +held my breath at the pit's sides; and was never tired of +going over tile scenes and sculptures done in such brilliant +colours upon those white walls. Once in there, I quite forgot +that mamma and papa could see them; I was so busy seeing them +myself. + +This amusement of mine was one which nobody interfered with; +and it lasted, as I said, all winter. All the winter my father +and mother were in Egypt. When spring came, I began to look +with trembling eagerness for a letter that should say they +would turn now homewards. I was disappointed. My father was so +much better that his physicians were encouraged to continue +their travelling regimen; and the word came that it was +thought best he should try a long sea voyage; he was going to +China. My mother would go with him. + +I think never in my life my spirits sank lower than they did +when I heard this news. I was not strong nor very well, which +might have been in part the reason. And I was dull-hearted to +the last degree under the influence of Miss Pinshon's system +of management. There was no power of reaction in me. It was +plain that I was failing; and my aunt interrupted the lessons, +and took me again to watering places at the North, from one to +another, giving me as much change as possible. It was good for +me to be taken off study, which Miss Pinshon had pressed and +crowded during the winter. Sea bathing did me good, too; and +the change of scene and habits was useful. I did not rise to +the level of enjoying anything much; only the sea waves when I +was in them; at other times I sat on the bank and watched the +distant smoke stack of a steamer going out, with an +inexpressible longing and soreness of heart. Going, where I +would so like to go! But there was no word of that. And indeed +it would not have been advisable to take me to China. I did +think Egypt would not have been bad for me; but it was a +thought which I kept shut up in the furthest stores of my +heart. + +The sea voyage however was delayed. My mother took sick; was +very ill; and then unable to undertake the going to China. My +father chose to wait for her; so the summer was spent by them +in Switzerland and the autumn in Paris. With the first of the +New Year they expected now to sail. It suddenly entered my +aunt Gary's head that it was a good time for _her_ to see Paris; +and she departed, taking Ransom with her, whom my father +wished to place in a German University, and meantime in a +French school. Preston had been placed at the Military Academy +at West Point; my aunt thinking that it made a nice finishing +of a gentleman's education, and would keep him out of mischief +till he was grown to man's estate. I was left alone with Miss +Pinshon to go back to Magnolia and take up my old life there. + +CHAPTER VII. + +SINGLEHANDED. + + +As my aunt set sail for the shores of Europe, and Miss Pinshon +and I turned our faces towards Magnolia, I seemed to see +before me a weary winter. I was alone now; there was nobody to +take my part in small or great things; my governess would have +her way. I was so much stronger now that no doubt she thought +I could bear it. So it was. The full tale of studies and tasks +was laid on me; and it lay on me from morning till night. + +I had expected that. I had looked also for the comfort and +refreshment of ministering to my poor friends in the kitchen +on the Sunday evenings. I began as usual with them. But as the +Sundays came round, I found now and then a gap or two in the +circle; and the gaps as time went on did not fill up; or if +they did they were succeeded by other gaps. My hearers grew +fewer, instead of more; the fact was undoubted. Darry was +always on the spot; but the two Jems not always, and Pete was +not sure, and Eliza failed sometimes, and others; and this +grew worse. Moreover, a certain grave and sad air replaced the +enjoying, almost jocund, spirit of gladness which used to +welcome me and listen to the reading and join in the prayers +and raise the song. The singing was not less good than it used +to; but it fell oftener into the minor key, and then pouted +along with a steady, powerful volume, deepening and steadying +as it went, which somehow swept over my heart like a wind from +the desert. I could not well tell why, yet I felt it trouble +me; sometimes my heart trembled with the thrill of those sweet +and solemn vibrations. I fancied that Darry's prayers had a +somewhat different atmosphere from the old. Yet when I once or +twice asked Margaret the next morning why such and such a one +had not been at the reading, she gave me a careless answer, +that she supposed Mr. Edwards had found something for them to +do. + +"But at night, Margaret?" I said. "Mr. Edwards cannot keep +them at work at night." + +To which she made no answer; and I was for some reason +unwilling to press the matter. But things went on, not getting +better but worse, until I could not bear it. I watched my +opportunity and got Maria alone. + +"What is the matter," I asked, "that the people do not come on +Sunday evening as they used? Are they tired of the reading, +Maria?" + +"I 'spect dey's as tired as a fish mus' be of de water," said +Maria. She had a fine specimen under her hand at the moment, +which I suppose suggested the figure. + +"Then why do they not come as usual, Maria? there were only a +few last night." + +"Dere was so few, it was lonesome," said Maria. + +"Then what is the reason?" + +"Dere is more reasons for t'ings, den Maria can make out," — +she said thoughtfully. "Mebbe it's to make 'em love de +priv'lege mo'." + +"But what keeps them away, Maria? what hinders?" + +"Chile, de Lord hab His angels, and de devil he hab his +ministers; and dey takes all sorts o' shapes, de angels and de +ministers too. I reckon dere's some work o'dat sort goin'on." + +Maria spoke in a sort of sententious wisdom which did not +satisfy me at all. I thought there was something behind. + +"Who is doing the work, Maria?" I asked, after a minute. + +"Miss Daisy," she said, "dere aint no happenin' at all widout +de Lord lets it happen. Dere is much contrairy in dis world, — +fact, dere is! — but I 'spect de Lord make it all up to us +by'm by." + +And she turned her face full upon me with a smile of so much +quiet resting in that truth, that for just a moment it +silenced me. + +"Miss Daisy aint lookin' quite so peart as she use to look," +Maria went on. But I slipped away from that diversion. + +"Maria," I said, "you don't tell me what is the matter; and I +wish to know. What keeps the people, Pete, and Eliza and all, +from coming? What hinders them, Maria? I wish to know." + +Maria busied herself with her fish for a minute, turning and +washing it; then without looking up from her work she said in +a lowered tone, — + +" 'Spect de overseer, he don't hab no favour to such ways and +meetin's." + +"But, with _me?_" I said; "and with aunt Gary's leave?" + +"S'pose he like to fix t'ings his own way," said Maria. + +"Does he forbid them to come?" I asked. + +"I reckon he do," — she said, with a sigh. + +Maria was very even-tempered, quiet, and wise, in her own way. +Her sigh went through my heart. I stood thinking what plan I +could take. + +"De Lord is bery good, Miss Daisy," she said, cheerily a +moment after; "I and dem dat love Him, dcre can be no sort +o'separation, no ways." + +"Does Mr. Edwards forbid them _all_ to come?" I asked. "For a +good many do come." + +" 'Spect he don't like de meetin's, no how," said Maria. + +"But does he tell all the people they must not come?" + +"I reckon he make it oncomfor'ble for 'em," Maria answered +gravely. "Dere is no end o' de mean ways o' sich folks. Know +he aint no gentleman, no how!" + +"What does he do, Maria?" I said; trembling, yet unable to +keep back the question. + +"He can do what he please, Miss Daisy," Maria said, in the +same grave way. " 'Cept de Lord above, dere no one can hinder — +now massa so fur. Bes' pray de Lord, and mebbe He sen' his +angel, some time." + +Maria's fish was ready for the kettle; some of the other +servants came in; and I went with a heavy heart up the stairs. +"Massa so fur" — yes! I knew that; and Mr. Edwards knew it +too. Once sailed for China; and it would be long, long, before +my cry for help, in the shape of one of my little letters, +could reach him and get back the answer. My heart felt heavy +as if I could die, while I slowly mounted the stairs to my +room. It was not only that trouble was brought upon my poor +friends, nor even that their short enjoyment of the Word of +life was hindered and interrupted; above this and worse than +this was the sense of _wrong_, done to these helpless people, +and done by my own father and mother. This sense was something +too bitter for a child of my years to bear; it crushed me for +a time. Our people had a right to the Bible, as great as mine; +a right to dispose of themselves, as true as my father's right +to dispose of himself. Christ, my Lord, had died for them as +well as for me; and here was my father, — _my father_ — +practically saying that they should not hear of it, nor know +the message He had sent to them. And if anything could have +made this more bitter to me, it was the consciousness that the +reason of it all was that we might profit by it. Those unpaid +hands wrought that our hands might be free to do nothing; +those empty cabins were bare, in order that our houses might +be full of every soft luxury; those unlettered minds were kept +unlettered that the rarest of intellectual wealth might be +poured into our treasury. I knew it. For I had written to my +father once to beg his leave to establish schools, where the +people on the plantation might be taught to read and write. He +had sent a very kind answer, saying it was just like his +little Daisy to wish such a thing, and that his wish was not +against it, if it could be done; but that the laws of the +State, and for wise reasons, forbade it. Greatly puzzled by +this, I one day carried my puzzle to Preston. He laughed at me +as usual, but at the same time explained that it would not be +safe; for that if the slaves were allowed books and knowledge, +they would soon not be content with their condition, and would +be banding together to make themselves free. I knew all this, +and I had been brooding over it; and now when the powerful +hand of the overseer came in to hinder the little bit of good +and comfort I was trying to give the people, my heart was set +on fire with a sense of sorrow and wrong that, as I said, no +child ought ever to know. + +I think it made me ill. I could not eat. I studied like a +machine, and went and came as Miss Pinshon bade me; all the +while brooding by myself and turning over and over in my heart +the furrows of thought, which seemed at first to promise no +harvest. Yet those furrows never break the soil for nothing. +In due time the seed fell; and the fruit of a ripened purpose +came to maturity. + +I did not give up my Sunday readings; even although the +numbers of my hearers grew scantier. As many as could, we met +together to read and to pray, yes, and to sing. And I shall +never in this world hear such singing again. One refrain comes +back to me now — + + +"Oh, had I the wings of the morning — +Oh, had I the wings of the morning — +Oh, had I the wings of the morning — +I'd fly to my Jesus away!" + + +I used to feel so too, as I listened and sometimes sung with +them. + +Meantime, all that I could do with my quarterly ten dollars, I +did. And there was many a little bit of pleasure I could give; +what with a tulip here and a cup of tea there, and a bright +handkerchief, or a pair of shoes. Few of the people had spirit +and cultivation enough to care for the flowers. But Maria +cherished some red and white tulips and a hyacinth in heir +kitchen window, as if they had been her children; and to Darry +a white rose-tree I had given him seemed almost to take the +place of a familiar spirit. Even grave Pete, whom I only saw +now and then this winter at my readings, nursed and tended and +watched a bed of crocuses with endless delight and care. All +the while, my Sunday circle of friends grew constantly fewer; +and the songs that were sung at our hindered meetings had a +spirit in them, which seemed to me to speak of a deep-lying +fire somewhere in the hearts of the singers, hidden, but +always ready to burst into a blaze. Was it because the fire +was burning in my own heart? + +I met one of the two Jems in the pine avenue one day. He +greeted me with the pleasantest of broad smiles. + +"Jem," said I, "why don't you come to the house Sunday +evenings, any more?" + +"It don't 'pear practical, missie." Jem was given to large- +sized words, when he could get hold of them. + +"Mr. Edwards hinders you?" + +"Mass' Ed'ards bery smart man, Miss Daisy. He want massa's +work done up all jus' so." + +"And he says that the prayer-meeting hinders the work, Jem?" + +"Clar, missis, Mass' Ed'ards got long head; he see furder den +me," Jem said, shaking his own head as, if the whole thing +were beyond him. I let him go. But a day or two after I +attacked Margaret on the subject. She and Jem, I knew, were +particular friends. Margaret was oracular and mysterious, and +looked like a thunder cloud. I got nothing from her, except an +increase of uneasiness. I was afraid to go further in my +inquiries; yet could not rest without. The house servants, I +knew, would not be likely to tell me anything that would +trouble me, if they could help it. The only exception was +mammy Theresa; who with all her love for me had either less +tact, or had grown from long habit hardened to the state of +things in which she had been brought up. From her, by a little +cross questioning, I learned that Jem and others had been +forbidden to come to the Sunday readings; and their disobeying +had been visited with the lash, not once nor twice; till, as +mammy Theresa said, " 'peared like it warn't no use to try to +be good agin de devil." + +And papa was away on his voyage to China, away on the high +seas, where no letter could reach him and Mr. Edwards knew +that. There was a fire in my heart now, that burned with sharp +pain. I felt as if it would burn my heart out. And now took +shape and form one single aim and purpose, which became for +years the foremost one of my life. It had been growing and +gathering. I set it clear before me from this time. + +Meanwhile, my mother's daughter was not willing to be entirely +baffled by the overseer. I arranged with Darry that I would be +at the Cemetery hill on all pleasant Sunday afternoons; and +that all who wished to hear, me read, or who wished to learn +themselves, might meet me there. The Sunday afternoons were +often pleasant that winter. I was constantly at my post; and +many a one crept round to me from the quarters and made his +way through the graves and the trees to where I sat by the +iron railing. We were safe there. Nobody but me liked the +place. Miss Pinshon and the overseer agreed in shunning it. +And there was promise in the blue sky, and hope in the soft +sunshine, and sympathy in the sweet rustle of the pine leaves. +Why not? Are they not all God's voices. And the words of the +Book were very precious there, to me and many another. I was +rather more left to myself of late. My governess gave me my +lessons quite as assiduously as ever; but after lesson time +she seemed to have something else to take her attention. She +did not walk often with me, as the spring drew near; and my +Sunday afternoons were absolutely unquestioned. + +One day in March, I had gone to my favourite place to get out +a lesson. It was not Sunday afternoon of course. I was tired +with my day's work, or I was not very strong; for though I had +work to do, the witcheries of nature prevailed with me to put +down my book. The scent of pine buds and flowers made the air +sweet to smell, and the spring sun made it delicious to feel. +The light won its way tenderly among the trees, touching the +white marble tombstones behind me, but resting with a more +gentle ray upon the moss and turf where only little bits of +rough board marked the sleeping places of our dependants. Just +out of sight, through the still air I could hear the river, in +its rippling, flow past the bank at the top of which I sat. My +book hung in my hand, and the course of Universal History was +forgotten; while I mused and mused over the two sorts of +graves that lay around me, the two races, the diverse fate +that attended them; while one blue sky was over, and one +sunlight fell down. And "while I was musing, the fire burned," +more fiercely than ever. David's had occasion when he wrote +those words. "Then spake I with my tongue." I would have liked +to do that. But I could do nothing; only pray. + +I was very much startled while I sat in my muse, to bear a +footstep coming. A steady, regular, footstep; no light trip of +children; and the hands were in the field, and this was not a +step like any of them. My first thought was, the overseer! +come to spy me out. The next minute I saw through the trees +and the iron railings behind me, that it was not the overseer. +I knew _his_ wide-awake; and this head was crowned with some +sort of a cap. I turned my head again and sat quiet; willing +to be overlooked, if that might be. The steps never slackened. +I heard them coming round the railing — then just at the +corner — I looked up, to see the cap lifted, and a smile +coming upon features that I knew; but my own thoughts were so +very far away that my visitor had almost reached my side +before I could recollect who it was. I remember I got up then +in a little hurry. + +"It is Doctor Sandford!" I exclaimed, as his hand took mine. + +"Is it Daisy?" answered the doctor. + +"I think so," I said. + +"And I _think so_," he said, looking at me after the old +fashion. "Sit down, and let me make sure." + +"You must sit on the grass, then," I said. + +"Not a bad thing, in such a pleasant place," he rejoined, +sending his blue eye all round my prospect. "But it is not so +pleasant a place as White Lake, Daisy." + +Such a flood of memories and happy associations came rushing +into my mind at these words, — he had not given them time to +come in slowly, — I suppose my face showed it. The doctor +looked at me and smiled. + +"I see it _is_ Daisy," he said. "I think it certainly Daisy. So +you do not like Magnolia?" + +"Yes, I do," I said, wondering where he got that conclusion. +"I like the _place_ very much, if —" + +"I should like to have the finishing of that 'if' — if you +have no objection." + +"I like the _place_," I repeated. "There are some things about +it I do not like." + +"Climate, perhaps?" + +"I did not mean the climate. I do not think I meant anything +that belonged to the place itself." + +"How do you do?" was the doctor's next question. + +"I am very well, sir." + +"How do you know it?" + +"I suppose I am," I said. "I am not sick. I always say I am +well." + +"For instance, you are so well that you never get tired?" + +"Oh, I get tired very often. I always did." + +"What sort of things make you tired? Do you take too long +drives in your pony-chaise?" + +"I have no pony-chaise now, Dr. Sandford. Loupe was left at +Melbourne. I don't know what became of him." + +"Why didn't you bring him along? But any other pony would do, +Daisy." + +"I don't drive at all, Dr. Sandford. My aunt and governess do +not like to have me drive as I used to do. — I wish I could!" + +"You would like to use your pony-chaise again?" + +"Very much. I know it would rest me." + +"And you have a governess, Daisy? That is something you had +not at Melbourne." + +"No —" I said. + +"A governess is a very nice thing," said the doctor, taking +off his hat and leaning back against the iron railing, — "if +she knows properly how to set people to play." + +"To play!" I echoed. I don't know whether Miss Pinshon +approves of play." + +"Oh! She approves of work then, does she?" + +"She likes work," I answered. + +"Keeps you busy?" + +"Most of the day, sir." + +"The evenings you have to yourself?" + +"Sometimes. Not always. Sometimes I cannot get through with my +lessons, and they stretch on into the evening." + +"How many lessons does this lady think a person of your age +and capacity can manage in the twenty-four hours?" said the +doctor, taking out his knife as he spoke and beginning to trim +the thorns off a bit of sweet-briar he had cut. I stopped to +make the reckoning. + +"Give me the course of your day, Daisy. And, by the by, when +does your day begin?" + +"It begins at half past seven, Dr. Sandford." + +"With breakfast?" + +"No, sir. I have a recitation before breakfast." + +"Please, of what?" + +"Miss Pinshon always begins with mathematics." + +"As a bitters. Do you find that it gives you an appetite?" + +By this time I was very near bursting into tears. The familiar +voice and way, the old time they brought back, the contrasts +they forced together, the different days of Melbourne and of +my Southern home, the forms and voices of mamma and papa, — +they all came crowding and flitting before me. I was obliged +to delay my answer. I knew that Dr. Sandford looked at me; +then he went on in a very gentle way — + +"Sweetbriar is sweet, — Daisy" — putting it to my nose. "I +should like to know, how long does mathematics last, before +you are allowed to have coffee?" + +"Mathematics only lasts half an hour. But then I have an hour +of study in Mental Philosophy before breakfast. We breakfast +at nine." + +"It must take a great deal of coffee to wash down all that," +said the doctor lazily trimming his sweetbriar. "Don't you +find that you are very hungry when you come to breakfast?" + +"No, not generally," I said. + +"How is that? Where there is so much sharpening of the wits, +people ought to be sharp otherwise." + +"My wits do not get sharpened," I said, half laughing. "I +think they get dull; and I am often dull altogether by +breakfast time." + +"What time in the day do you walk?" + +"In the afternoon — when we have done with the schoolroom. But +lately Miss Pinshon does not walk much." + +"So you take the best of the day for philosophy?" + +"No, sir, for mathematics." + +"Oh! — Well, Daisy, _after_ philosophy and mathematics have both +had their turn; what then? when breakfast is over." + +"Oh, they have two or three more turns in the course; of the +day," I said. "Astronomy comes after breakfast; then Smith's +_Wealth of Nations_; then Chemistry. Then I have a long History +lesson to recite; then French. After dinner we have Natural +Philosophy, and Physical Geography and Mathematics; and then +we have generally done." + +"And then what is left of you goes to walk," said the doctor. + +"No, not very often now," I said. "I don't know why, Miss +Pinshon has very much given up walking of late." + +"Then what becomes of you?" + +"I do not often want to do much of anything," I said. "To-day +I came here." + +"With a book," said the doctor. "Is it work or play?" + +"My History lesson," I said, showing the book. "I had not +quite time enough at home." + +"How much of a lesson, for instance?" said the doctor, taking +the book and turning over the leaves. + +"I had to make a synopsis of the state of Europe from the +third century to the tenth; — synchronising the event and the +names." + +"In writing?" + +"I might write it if I chose, — I often do, — but I have to +give the synopsis by memory." + +"Does it take long to prepare, Daisy?" said the doctor, still +turning over the leaves. + +"Pretty long," I said, "when I am stupid. Sometimes I cannot +do the synchronising, my head gets so thick; and I have to +take two or three days for it." + +"Don't you get punished, for letting your head get thick?" + +"Sometimes I do." + +"And what is the system of punishment at Magnolia for such +deeds?" + +"I am kept in the house for the rest of the afternoon +sometimes," I said; "or I have an extra problem in mathematics +to get out for the next morning." + +"And _that_ keeps you in, if the governess don't." + +"Oh, no," I said; "I never can work at it then. I get up +earlier the next morning." + +"Do you do nothing for exercise but those walks, which you do +not take?" + +"I used to ride last year," I said; "and this year I was +stronger, and Miss Pinshon gave me more studies; and somehow I +have not cared to ride so much. I have felt more like being +still." + +"You must have grown tremendously wise, Daisy," said the +doctor, looking round at me now with his old pleasant smile. I +cannot tell the pleasure and comfort it was to me to see him; +but I think I said nothing. + +"It is near the time now when you always leave Magnolia — is +it not?" + +"Very near now." + +"Would it trouble you to have the time a little anticipated?" + +I looked at him, in much doubt what this might mean. The +doctor fumbled in his breast pocket and fetched out a letter. + +"Just before your father sailed for China, he sent me this. It +was some time before it reached me; and it was some time +longer before I could act upon it." + +He put a letter in my hand, which I, wondering, read. It said, +the letter did, that papa was not at ease about me; that he +was not satisfied with my aunt's report of me, nor with the +style of my late letters; and begged Dr. Sandford would run +down to Magnolia at his earliest convenience and see me, and +make enquiry as to my well-being; and if he found things not +satisfactory, as my father feared he might and judged that the +rule of Miss Pinshon had not been good for me on the whole, my +father desired that Dr. Sandford would take measures to have +me removed to the North and placed in one of the best schools +there to be found; such a one as Mrs. Sandford might +recommend. The letter further desired, that Dr. Sandford would +keep a regular watch over my health, and suffer no school +training nor anything else to interfere with it; expressing +the writer's confidence that Dr. Sandford knew better than any +one what was good for me. + +"So you see, Daisy," the doctor said, when I handed him back +the letter, "your father has constituted me in some sort your +guardian, until such time as he comes back." + +"I am very glad," I said, smiling. + +"Are you? That is kind. I am going to act upon my authority +immediately, and take you away." + +"From Magnolia?" I said breathlessly. + +"Yes. Wouldn't you like to go and see Melbourne again for a +little while?" + +"Melbourne!" said I; and I remember how my cheeks grew warm. +"But — will Miss Pinshon go to Melbourne?" + +"No; she will not. Nor anywhere else, Daisy, with my will and +permission, where you go. Will that distress you very much?" + +I could not say yes, and I believe I made no answer, my +thoughts were in such a whirl. + +"Is Mrs. Sandford in Melbourne — I mean, near Melbourne — +now?" I asked at length. + +"No, she is in Washington. But she will be going to the old +place before long. Would you like to go, Daisy?" + +I could hardly tell him. I could hardly think. It began to +rush over me, that this parting from Magnolia was likely to be +for a longer time than usual. The river murmured by — the +sunlight shone on the groves on the hillside. Who would look +after my poor people? + +"You like Magnolia after all?" said the doctor. "I do not +wonder, as far as Magnolia goes. You are sorry to leave it." + +"No," I said, — "I am not sorry at all to leave Magnolia; I am +very glad. I am only sorry to leave — some friends." + +"Friends —" said the doctor. + +"Yes." + +"How many friends?" + +"I don't know," said I. "I think there are a hundred or more." + +"Seriously?" + +"Oh, yes," I said, "They are all on the place here." + +"How long will you want, Daisy, to take proper leave of these +friends?" + +I had no idea he was in such practical haste; but I found it +was so. + +CHAPTER VIII. + +EGYPTIAN GLASS. + + +It became necessary for me to think how soon I could be ready, +and arrange to get my leave-takings over by a certain time. +Dr. Sandford could not wait for me. He was an army surgeon +now, I found, and stationed at Washington. He had to return to +his post and leave Miss Pinshon to bring me up to Washington. +I fancy matters were easily arranged with Miss Pinshon. She +was as meek as a lamb. But it never was her way to fight +against circumstances. The doctor ordered that I should come +up to Washington in a week or two. + +I did not know till he was gone, what a hard week it was going +to be. + +As soon as he had turned his back upon Magnolia, my leave- +takings began. I may say they began sooner: for in the morning +after his arrival, when Margaret was in my room, she fell to +questioning me about the truth of the rumour that had reached +the kitchen. Jim said I was going away, not to come back. I do +not know how he had got hold of the notion. And when I told +her it was true, she dropped the pine splinters out of her +hands, and rising to her feet, besought me that I would take +her with me. So eagerly she besought me, that I had much +difficulty to answer. + +"I shall be in a school, Margaret," I said. "I could not have +anybody there to wait on me." + +"Miss Daisy won't never do everything for herself." + +"Yes, I must," I said. "All the girls do." + +"I'd hire out then, Miss Daisy, while you don't want me — I'd +be right smart — and I'd bring all my earnin's to you regular. +'Deed I will! Till Miss Daisy want me herself." + +I felt my cheeks flush. She would bring _her_ earnings to _me_. +Yes, that was what we were doing. + +"Clar, Miss Daisy, do don't leave me behind! I could take +washin' and do all Miss Daisy's things up right smart — don't +believe they knows how to do things up there! — I'll come to +no good if I don't go with Miss Daisy, sure." + +"You can be good here as well as anywhere, Margaret," I said. + +"Miss Daisy don' know. Miss Daisy, 'spose the devil walkin' +round about a place; — think it a nice place fur to be good +in?" + +"The devil is not in Magnolia more than anywhere else," I +said. + +"Dere Mass' Edwards, —" Margaret said half under her breath. +Even in my room she would not speak the name out loud. + +The end of it was, that I wrote up to Washington to Dr +Sandford to ask if I might take the girl with me; and his +answer came back, that if it were any pleasure to me I +certainly might. So that matter was settled. But the parting +with the rest was hard. I do not know whether it was hardest +for them or for me. Darry blessed me and prayed for me. Maria +wept over me. Theresa mourned and lamented. Tears and wailings +came from all the poor women who knew me best and used to come +to the Sunday readings; and Pete took occasion to make private +request, that when I was grown, or when at any time I should +want a man servant, I would remember and send for him. He +could do anything, he said; he could drive horses or milk cows +or take care of a garden, or _cook_. It was said in a subdued +voice, and though with a gleam of his white circle of teeth at +the last mentioned accomplishment, it was said with a depth of +grave earnestness which troubled me. I promised as well as I +could; but my heart was very sore for my poor people, left now +without anybody, even so much as a child, to look after their +comfort and give them any hopes for one world or the other. + +Those heavy days were done at last. Margaret was speedy with +my packing; — a week from the time of Dr. Sandford's coming, I +had said my last lesson to Miss Pinshon, read my last reading +to my poor people, shaken the last hand-shakings; and we were +on the little steamer plying down the Sands river. + +I think I was wearied out; for I remember no excitement or +interest about the journey, which ought to have had so much +for me. In a passive state of mind I followed Miss Pinshon +from steamer to station; from one train of cars to another; +and saw the familiar landscape flit before me as the cars +whirled us on. At Baytown we had been joined by a gentleman +who went with us all the rest of the way; and I began by +degrees to comprehend that my governess had changed her +vocation, and instead of taking care, as heretofore, was going +to be taken care of. It did not interest me. I saw it, that +was all. I saw Margaret's delight, too, shown by every quick +and thoughtful movement that could be of any service to me, +and by a certain inexpressible air of deliverance which sat on +her, I cannot tell how, from her bonnet down to her shoes. But +her delight reminded me of those that were not delivered. + +I think, of all the crushing griefs that a young person can be +called to bear, one of the sorest is the feeling of wrong- +doing on the part of a beloved father or mother. I was sure +that my father, blinded by old habit and bound by the laws of +the country, did not in the least degree realise the true +state of the matter. I knew that the real colour of his gold +had never been seen by him. Not the less, _I_ knew now that it +was bloody; and what was worse, though I do not know _why_ it +should be worse, I knew that it was soiled. I knew that greed +and dishonour were the two collectors of our revenue, and +_wrong_ our agent. Do I use strong words? They are not too +strong for the feelings which constantly bore upon my heart, +nor too bitter; though my childish heart never put them into +such words at the time. That my father did not know, saved my +love and reverence for him; but it did not change anything +else. + +In the last stage of our journey, as we left a station where +the train had stopped, I noticed a little book left on one of +the empty seats of the car. It lay there and nobody touched +it; till we were leaving the car at Alexandria and almost +everybody had gone out, and I saw that it lay there still and +nobody would claim it. In passing I took it up. It was a neat +little book, with gilt edges; no name in it; and having its +pages numbered for the days of the year. And each page was +full of Bible words. It looked nice. I put the book in my +pocket; and on board the ferryboat opened it again, and looked +for the date of the day in March where we were. I found the +words — "He preserveth the way of His saints." They were the +words heading the page. I had not time for another bit; but as +I left the boat this went into my heart like a cordial. + +It was a damp, dark morning. The air was chill as we left the +little boat cabin; the streets were dirty; there was a +confusion of people seeking carriages or porters or baggage or +custom; then suddenly I felt as if I had lighted on a tower of +strength, for Dr. Sandford stood at my side. A good-humoured +sort of a tower he looked to me, in his steady, upright +bearing; and his military coat helped the impression of that. +I can see now his touch of his cap to Miss Pinshon, and then +the quick glance which took in Margaret and me. In another +minute I had shaken hands with my governess, and was in a +carriage with Margaret opposite me; and Dr. Sandford was +giving my baggage in charge to somebody. And then he took his +place beside me and we drove off. And I drew a long breath. + +"Punctual to your time, Daisy," said the doctor. "But what +made you choose such a time? How much of yourself have you +left by the way?" + +"Miss Pinshon liked better to travel all night," I said, +"because there was no place where she liked to stop to spend +the night." + +"What was your opinion on that subject?" + +"I was more tired than she was, I suppose." + +"Has she managed things on the same system for the four years +past?" + +The doctor put the question with such a cool gravity, that I +could not help laughing. Yet I believe my laughing was very +near crying. At first he did so put me in mind of all that was +about me when I used to see him in that time long before. And +an inexpressible feeling of comfort was in his presence now; +a feeling of being taken care of. I had been looked after, +undoubtedly, all these years; — sharply looked after; there +was never a night that I could go to sleep without my +governess coming in to see that I was in my room, or in bed, +and my clothes in order, and my light where it ought to be. +And my aunt had not forgotten me; nor her perplexities about +me. And Preston had petted me, when he was near. But even +Preston sometimes lost sight of me in the urgency of his own +pleasure or business. There was a great difference in the +strong hand of Dr. Sandford's care; and if you had ever looked +into his blue eyes, you would know that they forgot nothing. +They had always fascinated me; they did now. + +Mrs. Sandford was not up when we got to the house where she +was staying. It was no matter, for a room was ready for me; +and Dr. Sandford had a nice little breakfast brought, and saw +me eat it, just as if I were a patient. Then he ordered me to +bed, and charged Margaret to watch over me, and he went away, +as he said, till luncheon time. + +I drew two or three long breaths as Margaret was undressing +me; I felt so comfortable. + +"Are Miss Pinshon done gone away, Miss Daisy?" my handmaid +asked. + +"From Magnolia? yes." + +"Where she gwine to?" + +"I don't know." + +"Then she don't go no furder along the way we're goin'?" + +"No. I wonder, Margaret, if they will have any prayer-meetings +in Magnolia now?" For with the mention of Magnolia my thoughts +swept back. + +" 'Spect the overseer have his ugly old way!" Margaret uttered +with great disgust. "Miss Daisy done promise me, I go 'long +with Miss Daisy?" she added anxiously. + +"Yes. But what makes you want to get away from home more than +all the rest of them?" + +"Reckon I'dc done gone kill myself, s'pose. Miss Daisy leave +me there," the girl said gloomily. "If dey send me down South, +I _would_." + +"Send you South!" I said; "they would not do that, Margaret." + +"Dere was man wantin' to buy me — give mighty high price de +overseer said." In excitement Margaret's tongue sometimes grew +thick like those of her neighbours. + +"Mr. Edwards has no right to sell anybody away from the +place," I insisted, in mixed unbelief and horror. + +"Dunno," said Margaret. "Don't make no difference, Miss Daisy. +Who care what he do? Dere's Pete's wife —" + +"Pete's wife?" said I. "I didn't know Pete was married! What +of Pete's wife?" + +"Dat doctor will kill me, for sure!" said Margaret, looking at +me. "Do, don't, Miss Daisy! The doctor say you must go right +to bed, now. See! you aint got your clothes off." + +"Stop," said I. "What about Pete's wife?" + +"I done forget. I thought Miss Daisy knowed. Mebbe it's before +Miss Daisy come home." + +"What?" said I. "What —?" + +"It's nothin", Miss Daisy. "The overseer he done got mad with +Pete's wife and he sold her down South, he did." + +"Away from Pete?" said I. + +"Pete, he's to de old place," said Margaret laconically. +" 'Spect he forgot all about it by dis time. Miss Daisy please +have her clothes off and go to bed?" + +There was nothing more to wait for. I submitted, was +undressed; but the rest and sleep which had been desired were +far out of reach now. Pete's wife? — my good, strong, gentle, +and I remembered always _grave_, Pete! My heart was on fire with +indignation and torn to pieces with sorrow, both at once. Torn +with the helpless feeling too that I could not mend the wrong. +I do not mean this individual wrong, but the whole state of +things under which such wrong was possible. I was restless on +my bed, though very weary. I would rather have been up and +doing something, than to lie and look at my trouble; only that +being there kept me out of the way of seeing people and of +talking. Such things done under my father and mother's own +authority, — on their own land, — to their own helpless +dependants; whom yet it was _they_ made helpless and kept +subject to such possibilities. I turned and tossed, feeling +that I _must_ do something, while yet I knew I could do nothing. +Pete's wife! And where was she now? And _that_ was the secret of +the unvarying grave shadow that Pete's brow always wore. And +now that I had quitted Magnolia, no human friend for the +present remained to all that crowd of poor and ignorant and +needy humanity. Even their comfort of prayer forbidden; +except such comfort as each believer might take by himself +alone. + +I did not know, I never did know till long after, how to many +at Magnolia that prohibition wrought no harm. I think Margaret +knew, and even then did not dare tell me. How the meetings for +prayer were not stopped. How watch was kept on certain nights, +till all stir had ceased in the little community; till lights +were out in the overseer's house (and at the great house, +while we were there); and how then, silently and softly from +their several cabins, the people stole away through the woods, +to a little hill beyond the cemetery, quite far out of hearing +or ken of anybody; and there prayed, and sang too, and +"praised God and shouted," as my informant told me; not +neglecting all the while to keep a picket watch about their +meeting place, to give the alarm in case anybody should come. +So under the soft moonlight skies and at depth of night, the +meetings which I had supposed broken up, took new life, and +grew, and lived; and prayers did not fail; and the Lord +hearkened and heard. + +It would have comforted me greatly if I could have known this +at the time. But as I said, I suppose Margaret dared not tell +me. After a long while of weary tossing and heart ache, sleep +came at last to me; but it brought Pete and his wife and the +overseer and Margaret in new combinations of trouble; and I +got little refreshment. + +"Now you have waked up, Miss Daisy?" said Margaret when I +opened my eyes. "That poundin' noise has done waked you!" + +"What noise?" + +"It's no Christian noise," said Margaret. "What's the use of +turnin' the house into a clap of thunder like that? But a man +was makin' it o' purpose, for I went out to see; and he telled +me it was to call folks to luncheon. Will you get up, Miss +Daisy?" + +Margaret spoke as if she thought I had much better lie still; +but I was weary of the comfort I had found there and disposed +to try something else. I had just time to be ready, before Dr. +Sandford came for me and took me to his sister-in-law. Mrs. +Sandford welcomed me with great kindness, even tenderness; +exclaimed at my growth; but I saw by her glance at the doctor +that my appearance in other respects struck her unfavourably. +He made no answer to that, but carried us off to the luncheon +room. + +There were other people lodging in the house besides my +friends; a long table was spread. Dr. Sandford, I saw, was an +immense favourite. Questions and demands upon his attention +came thick and fast, from both ends and all sides of the +table; about all sorts of subjects and in all manner of tones, +grave and gay. And he was at home to them all, but in the +midst of it never forgot me. He took careful heed to my +luncheon; prepared one thing, and called for another; it +reminded me of a time long gone by; but it did not help me to +eat. I could not eat. The last thing he did was to call for a +fresh raw egg, and break it into a half glass of milk. With +this in his hand we left the dining-room. As soon as we got to +Mrs. Sandford's parlour he gave it to me and ordered me to +swallow it. I suppose I looked dismayed. + +"Poor child!" said Mrs. Sandford. "Let me have it beaten up +for her, Grant, with some sugar; she can't take it so." + +"Daisy has done harder things," he said. + +I saw he expected me to drink it, and so I did, I do not know +how. + +"Thank you," he said, smiling, as he took the glass. "Now sit +down and I will talk to you." + +"How she is growing tall, Grant!" said Mrs. Sandford. + +"Yes," said he. "Did you sleep well, Daisy?" + +"No, sir; I couldn't sleep. And then I dreamed." + +"Dreaming is not a proper way of resting. So tired you could +not sleep?" + +"I do not think it was that, Dr. Sandford." + +"Do you know what it was?" + +"I think I do," — I said, a little unwillingly. + +"She is getting very much the look of her mother," Mrs. +Sandford remarked again. "Don't you see it, Grant?" + +"I see more than that," he answered. "Daisy, do you think this +governess of yours has been a good governess?" + +I looked wearily out of the window, and cast a weary mental +look over the four years of algebraics and philosophy, at the +bright little child I saw at the further end of them. + +"I think I have grown dull, Dr. Sandford," I said. + +He came up behind me, and put his arms round me, taking my +hand in his, and spoke in quite a different tone. + +"Daisy, have you found many 'wonderful things' at Magnolia?" + +I looked up, I remember, with the eagerness of a heart full of +thoughts, into his face; but I could not speak then. + +"Have you looked through a microscope since you have been +there? and made discoveries?" + +"Not in natural things, Dr. Sandford." + +"Ha!" said the doctor. "Do you want to go and take a drive +with me?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"Go and get ready then, please." + +I had a very pleasant, quiet drive; the doctor showing me, as +he said, not wonderful things but new things, and taking means +to amuse me. And every day for several days I had a drive. +Sometimes we went to the country, sometimes got out and +examined something in the city. There was a soothing relief in +it all, and in the watchful care taken of me at home, and the +absence of mathematics and philosophy. All day when not +driving or at meals, I lay on Mrs. Sandford's sofa or curled +myself up in the depth of a great easy chair, and turned over +her books; or studied my own blue book which I had picked up +in the car, and which was so little I had Margaret make a big +pocket in my frock to hold it. But this life was not to last. +A few days was all Mrs. Sandford had to spend in Washington. + +The place I liked best to go to was the Capitol. Several times +Dr. Sandford took me there, and showed me the various great +rooms, and paintings, and smaller rooms with their beautiful +adornments; and I watched the workmen at work; for the +renewing of the building was not yet finished. As long as he +had time to spare, Dr. Sandford let me amuse myself as I +would; and often got me into talks which refreshed me more +than anything. Still, though I was soothed, my trouble at +heart was not gone. One day we were sitting looking at the +pictures in the great vestibule, when Dr. Sandford suddenly +started a subject which put the Capitol out of my head. + +"Daisy," said he, "was it your wish or Margaret's, that she +should go North with you?" + +"Hers," I said, startled. + +"Then it is not yours particularly?" + +"Yes, it is, Dr. Sandford, _very_ particularly." + +"How is that?" said he. + +I hesitated. I shrank from the whole subject; it was so +extremely sore to me. + +"I ought to warn you," he went on, "that if you take her +further, she may if she likes leave you, and claim her +freedom. That is the law. If her owner takes her into the free +States, she may remain in them if she will, whether he does or +not." + +I was silent still, for the whole thing choked me. I was quite +willing she should have her freedom, get it any way she could; +but there was my father, and his pleasure and interest, which +might not choose to lose a piece of his property — and my +mother and _her_ interest and pleasure; I knew what both would +be. I was dumb. + +"You had not thought of this before?" the doctor went on. + +"No, sir." + +"Does it not change your mind about taking her on?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did it ever occur to you, or rather, does it not occur to you +now, that the girl's design in coming may have been this very +purpose of her freedom?" + +"I do not think it was," I said. + +"Even if not, it will be surely put in her head by other +people before she has been at the North long; and she will +know that she is her own mistress." + +I was silent still. I knew that I wished she might! + +"Do you not think," Dr. Sandford went on, "that in this view +of the case we had better send her back to Magnolia when you +leave Washington?" + +"No," I said. + +"I think it would be better," he repeated. + +"Oh, no!" I said. "Oh, no, Dr. Sandford. I can't send her +back. You will not send her hack, will you?" + +"Be quiet," he said, holding fast the hand which in my +earnestness I had put in his; "she is not my servant; she is +yours; it is for you to say what you will do." + +"I will not send her back," I said. + +"But it may be right to consider what would be Mr. Randolph's +wish on the subject. If you take her, he may lose several +hundred dollars' worth of property; it is right for me to warn +you; would he choose to run the risk." + +I remember now what a fire at my heart sent the blood to my +face. But with my hand in Dr. Sandford's, and those blue eyes +of his reading me, I could not keep back my thought. + +"She ought to be her own mistress" — I said. + +A brilliant flash of expression filled the blue eyes and +crossed his face. — I could hardly tell what, before it was +gone. Quick surprise — pleasure — amusement - agreement; the +first and the two last certainly; and the pleasure I could not +help fancying had lent its colour to that ray of light, which +had shot for one instant from those impenetrable eyes. He +spoke just as usual. + +"But Daisy, have you studied this question?" + +"I think, I have studied nothing else, Dr. Sandford!" + +"You know the girl is not yours, but your father's." + +"She isn't anybody's —" I said slowly, and with slow tears +gathering in my heart. + +"How do you mean?" said he, with again the quiver of a smile +upon his lips. + +"I mean," I said, struggling with my thoughts and myself, "I +mean, that nobody could have a right to her." + +"Did not her parents belong to your father?" + +"To my mother." + +"Then she does." + +"But, Dr. Sandford," I said, "nobody can belong to anybody in +that way." + +"How do you make it out, Daisy?" + +"Because, nobody can give anybody a _right_ to anybody else — in +that way." + +"Does it not give your mother a right, that the mother of this +girl and probably her grandmother were the property of your +ancestors?" + +"They could not be their property justly," I said, glad to get +back to my ancestors. + +"The law made it so." + +"Not God's law, Dr. Sandford," I said, looking up at him. + +"No? Does not that law give a man a right to what he has +honestly bought?" + +"No," I said, "it _can't_ — not if it has been dishonestly +sold." + +"Explain, Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, very quietly; but I saw +the gleam of that light in his eye again. I had gone too far +to stop. I went on, ready to break my heart over the right and +the wrong I was separating. + +"I mean, the _first_ people that sold the first of these +coloured people, —" I said. + +"Well?" said the doctor. + +"They could not have a right to sell them." + +"Yes. Well?" + +"Then the people that bought them could not have a right, any +more," I said. + +"But, Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, "do you know that there are +different opinions on this very point?" + +I was silent. It made no difference to me. + +"Suppose for the moment that the first people, as you say, had +no precise right to sell the men and women they brought to +this country; yet those who bought them and paid honest money +for them, and possessed them from generation to generation, — +had not they a _right_ to pass them off upon other hands, +receiving their money back again?" + +"I don't know how to explain it," I said. "I mean — if at +first — Dr. Sandford, hadn't the people that were sold, hadn't +they rights too?" + +"Rights of what sort?" + +"A right to do what they liked with themselves, and to earn +money, and to keep their wives?" + +"But those rights were lost, you know, Daisy." + +"But _could_ they be?" I said. "I mean — Dr. Sandford, for +instance, suppose somebody stole your watch from you; would +you lose the right to it?" + +"It _seems_ to me that I should not, Daisy." + +"That is what I mean," I said. + +"But there is another view of the case, Daisy. Take Margaret, +for instance. From the time she was a child, your father's, or +your mother's, money has gone to support her; her food and +clothing and living have been wholly at their expense. Does +not that give them a right to her services? ought they not to +be repaid?" + +I did not want to speak of my father and mother and Margaret. +It was coming too near home. I knew the food and clothing Dr. +Sandford spoke of; I knew a very few months of a northern +servant's wages would have paid for it all; was this girl's +whole life to be taken from her, and by my father and mother, +and for such a cause? The feeling of grief and wrong and shame +got possession of me. I was ready to break my heart in tears; +but I could not show Dr. Sandford what I felt, nor confess to +what I thought of my father's action. I had the greatest +struggle with myself not to give way and cry. I was very weak +bodily, but I know I stood still and did not shed a tear; till +I felt Dr. Sandford's hands take hold of me. They put me +gently back in the chair from which I had risen. + +"What is the matter, Daisy?" he said. + +I would not speak, and he did not urge it; but I saw that he +watched me, till I gained command of myself again. + +"Shall we go home now?" he asked. + +"In a minute. Dr. Sandford, I do not think papa knows about +all this — I do not think he knows about it as I do. I am sure +he does not; and when he knows, he will think as I do." + +"Or perhaps you will think as he does." + +I was silent. I wondered if that could be possible, if I too +could have my eyes blinded as I saw other people's were. + +"Little Daisy," said my friend the doctor, — "but you are +getting to be not _little_ Daisy. How old are you?" + +"I shall be fourteen in June." + +"Fourteen. Well, it is no wonder that my friend whom I left a +philosopher at ten years old, I should find a woman at +fourteen — but, Daisy, you must not take it on your heart that +you have to teach all the ignorant and help all the distressed +that come in your way; because simply you cannot do it." + +I looked up at him. I could not tell him what I thought, +because he would not, I feared, understand it. Christ came to +do just such work, and His servants must have it on their +heart to do the same. I cannot tell what was in my look; but I +thought the doctor's face changed. + +"One Molly Skelton will do for one four years," he said as he +rose up. "Come, Daisy." + +"But, Dr. Sandford," I said, as I followed him, "you will not +do anything about sending Margaret back?" + +"Nothing, till you do, Daisy." + +Arrived at home, the doctor made me drink a raw egg, and lie +down on Mrs. Sandford's sofa; and he sat down and looked at +me. + +"You are the most troublesome patient that ever I had," said +he. + +"I am?" I exclaimed. + +"Yes. Quite innocently. You cannot help it, Daisy; and you +need not be troubled about it. It is all in the way of my +profession. It is as if a delicate vessel of Egyptian glass +were put to do the work of an iron smelting furnace; and I +have to think of all the possible bands and hardening +appliances that can be brought into use for the occasion." + +"I do not understand —" I said. + +"No. I suppose not. That is the worst of it." + +"But why am I all _Egyptian_ glass?" I asked. "I am not very +old." + +The doctor gave me one of those quick, bright glances and +smiles, that were very pleasant to get from him and not very +common. There came a sort of glow and sparkle in his blue eye +then, and a wonderful winsome and gracious trick of the lips. + +"It is a very doubtful sort of a compliment," said Mrs. +Sandford. + +"I did not mean it for a compliment at all," said the doctor. + +"I don't believe you did," said his sister; "but what did you +mean? Grant, I should like to hear you pay a compliment for +once." + +"You do not know Egyptian glass," said the doctor. + +"No. What was it?" + +"Very curious." + +"Didn't I say that you couldn't pay compliments," said Mrs. +Sandford. + +"And unlike any that is made now-a-days. There were curious +patterns wrought in the glass, made, it is supposed, by the +fusing together of rods of glass, extremely minute, of +different colours; so that the pattern once formed was +ineffaceable and indestructible, unless by the destruction of +the vessel which contained it. Sometimes a layer of gold was +introduced between the layers of glass." + +"How very curious!" said Mrs. Sandford. + +"I think I must take you into consultation, Daisy," the doctor +went on, turning to me. "It is found, that there must be a +little delay before you can go up to take a look at Melbourne. +Mrs. Sandford is obliged to stop in New York with a sick +sister; how long she may be kept there it is impossible to +say. Now you would have a dull time, I am afraid; and I am in +doubt whether it would not be pleasanter for you to enter +school at once. In about three months the school term will end +and the summer vacation begin; by that time Mrs. Sandford will +be at home and the country ready to receive you. But you shall +do whichever you like best." + +"Mrs. Sandford will be in New York?" I said. + +"Yes." + +"And I would see you constantly, dear, and have you with me +all the Saturdays and Sundays and holidays. And if you like it +better, you shall be with me all the time; only I should be +obliged to leave you alone too much." + +"How long does the summer vacation last?" I inquired. + +"Till some time in September. You can enter school now, or +then, as you choose." + +I thought and hesitated, and said I would enter at once. Dr. +Sandford said I was not fit for it, but it was on the whole +the best plan. So it was arranged; that I should just wait a +day or two in New York to get my wardrobe in order and then +begin my school experience. + +But my thoughts went back afterwards, more than once, to the +former conversation; and I wondered what it was about me that +made Dr. Sandford liken me to Egyptian glass. + +CHAPTER IX. + +SHOPPING. + + +It was settled that I should wait a day or two in New York to +get my wardrobe arranged, and then begin my school experience. +But when we got to New York, we found Mrs. Sandford's sister +so ill as to claim her whole time. There was none to spare for +me and my wardrobe. Mrs. Sandford said I must attend to it +myself as well as I could, and the doctor would go with me. He +was off duty, he reported, and at leisure for ladies' affairs. +Mrs. Sandford told me what I would need. A warm school dress, +she said; for the days would be often cold in this latitude +until May, and even later; and schoolrooms not always warm. A +warm dress for every day was the first thing. A fine merino, +Mrs. Sandford said, would be, she thought, what my mother +would choose. I had silks which might be warm enough for other +occasions. Then I must have a thick coat or cloak. Long coats, +with sleeves, were fashionable then, she told me; the doctor +would take me where I would find plenty to choose from. And I +needed a hat, or a bonnet. Unless, Mrs. Sandford said, I chose +to wear my riding cap with the feather; that was warm, and +very pretty, and would do. + +How much would it all cost? I asked. Mrs. Sandford made a +rapid calculation. The merino would be two dollars a yard, she +said; the coat might be got for thirty-five or thereabouts +sufficiently good; the hat was entirely what I chose to make +it. "But you know, my dear," Mrs. Sandford said, "the sort of +quality and style your mother likes, and you will be guided by +that." + +Must I be guided by that? — I questioned with myself. Yes, I +knew. I knew very well; but I had other things to think of. I +pondered. While I was pondering, Dr. Sandford was quietly +opening his pocket-book and unfolding a roll of bills. He put +a number of them into my hand. + +"That will cover it all, Daisy," he said. "It is money your +father has made over to my keeping, for this and similar +purposes." + +"Oh, thank you !" I said, breathless; and then I counted the +bills. "Oh, thank you, Dr. Sandford! but may I spend all +this?" + +"Certainly. Mr. Randolph desired it should go, this and more +of it, to your expenses, of whatever kind. This covers my +sister's estimate, and leaves something for your pocket +besides." + +"And when shall we go?" I asked. + +"To spend it? Now, if you like. Why, Daisy, I did now know —" + +"What, sir?" I said as he paused. + +"Really, nothing," he said, smiling. "Somehow I had not +fancied that you shared the passion of your sex for what they +call _shopping_. You are all alike, in some things." + +"I like it very much to-day," I said. + +"It would be safe, for you to keep Daisy's money in your own +pocket, Grant," Mrs. Sandford said. "It will be stolen from +her, certainly." + +The doctor smiled and stretched out his hand; I put the bills +into it; and away we went. My head was very busy. I knew, as +Mrs. Sandford said, the sort and style of purchases my mother +would make and approve; but then on the other hand the +remembrance was burnt into me, whence that money came which I +was expected to spend so freely, and what other uses and calls +for it there were, even in the case of those very people whose +hands had earned it for us. Not to go further, Margaret's +wardrobe needed refitting quite as much as mine. She was quite +as unaccustomed as I to the chills and blasts of a cold +climate, and full as a unfurnished to meet them. I had seen +her draw her thin checked shawl around her, when I knew it was +not enough to save her from the weather, and that she had no +more. And her gowns, of thin cotton stuff, such as she wore +about her housework at Magnolia, were a bare provision against +the nipping bite of the air here at the North. Yet nobody +spoke of any addition to _her_ stock of clothes. It was on my +heart alone. But now it was in my hand too, and I felt very +glad; though just how to manage Dr. Sandford I did not know. I +thought a great deal about the whole matter as we went through +the streets; as I had also thought long before; and my mind +was clear, that while so many whom I knew needed the money, or +while _any_ whom I knew needed it, I would spend no useless +dollars upon myself. How should I manage Dr. Sandford? There +he was, my cash-keeper; and I had not the least wish to unfold +my plans to him. + +"I suppose the dress is the first thing, Daisy," he said, as +we entered the great establishment where everything was to be +had; and he inquired for the counter where we should find +merinos. I had no objection ready. + +"What colour, Daisy?" + +"I want something dark —" + +"Something dark and bright," said the doctor, seating himself. +"And fine quality. Not green, Daisy, if I might advise. It is +too cold." + +"Cold!" said I. + +"For this season. It is a very nice colour in summer, Daisy," +he said, smiling. + +And he looked on in a kind of amused way, while the clerk of +the merinos and I confronted each other. There was displayed +now before me a piece of claret-coloured stuff; "dark and +bright ;" a beautiful tint, and a very beautiful piece of +goods. I knew enough of the matter to know that. Fine and +thick and lustrous, it just suited my fancy; I knew it was +just what my mother would buy; I saw Dr. Sandford's eye watch +me in its amusement with a glance of expectation. But the +stuff was two dollars and a quarter a yard. Yes, it suited me +exactly; but what was to become of others if I were covered so +luxuriously? And how could I save money if I spent it? It was +hard to speak, too, before that shopman, who held the merino +in his hand expecting me to say I would take it; but I had no +way to escape that trouble. I turned from the rich folds of +claret stuff, to the doctor at my side. + +"Dr. Sandford," I said, "I want to get something that will not +cost so much. + +"Does it not please you?" he asked. + +"Yes; I like it; but I want some stuff that will not cost so +much." + +"This is not far above my sister's estimate, Daisy." + +"No —" I said. + +"And the difference is a trifle — if you like the piece." + +"I like it," I said; "but it is very much above my estimate." + +"You had one of your own!" said the doctor. "Do you like +something else here better? — or what is your estimate, +Daisy?" + +"I do not want a poor merino," I said. "I would rather get +some other stuff — if I can. I do not want to give more than a +dollar." + +"The young lady may find what will suit her at the plaid +counter," said the shopman, letting fall the rich drapery he +had been holding up. — "Just round that corner, sir, to the +left." + +Dr. Sandford led the way, and I followed. There certainly I +found a plenty of warm stuffs, in various patterns and +colours, and with prices as various. But nothing to match the +grave elegance of those claret folds. It was coming down a +step, to leave that counter for this. I knew it perfectly +well; while I sought out the simplest and prettiest dark small +plaid I could find. + +"Do you like these things better?" the doctor asked me +privately. + +"No, sir," I said. + +"Then why come here, Daisy? Pardon me, may I ask?" + +"I have other things to get, Dr. Sandford," I said low. + +"But, Daisy!" said the doctor, rousing up, — "I have performed +my part ill. You are not restricted — your father has not +restricted you. I am your banker for whatever sums you may +need — for whatever purposes." + +"Yes," I said; "I know. Oh no, I know papa has not restricted +you; but I think I ought not to spend any more. It is my own +affair." + +"And not mine. Pardon me, Daisy; I submit." + +"Dr. Sandford, don't speak so!" I said. "I don't mean that. I +mean, it is my own affair and not papa's." + +"Certainly, I have no more to say," said the doctor, smiling. + +"I will tell you about it," — I said; and then I desired the +shopman to cut off the dress I had fixed upon; and we went up +stairs to look for cloaks; I feeling hot and confused and half +perplexed. I had never worn such a dress as this plaid I had +bought, in my life. It was nice and good, and pretty too; but +it did not match the quality or the elegance of the things my +mother always had got for me. _She_ would not have liked it nor +let me wear it; I knew that; but then — whence came the wealth +that flowed over in such exquisite forms upon her and upon me? +were not its original and proper channels bare? And whence +were they to be, even in any measure, refilled, if all the +supply must, as usual, be led off in other directions? I mused +as I went up the stair, feeling perplexed nevertheless at the +strangeness of the work I was doing, and with something in my +heart giving a pull to my judgment towards the side of what +was undoubtedly "pleasant to the eyes." So I followed Dr. +Sandford up the stair and into the wilderness of the cloak +department; where all manner of elegancies, in silk and velvet +and cloth, were displayed in orderly confusion. It was a +wilderness to me, in the mood of my thoughts. Was I going to +repeat here the process just gone through down stairs? + +The doctor seated me, asked what I wanted to see, and gave the +order. And forthwith my eyes were regaled with a variety of +temptations. A nice little black silk pelisse was hung on the +stand opposite me; it was nice; a good gloss was upon the +silk, the article was in the neatest style, and trimmed with +great simplicity. I would have been well satisfied to wear +that. By its side was displayed another of velvet; then yet +another of very fine dark cloth; perfect in material and make, +faultless in its elegance of finish. But the silk was forty- +five, and the cloth was forty, and the velvet was sixty +dollars. I sat and looked at them. There is no denying that I +wanted the silk or the cloth. Either of them would do. Either +of them was utterly girl-like and plain, but both of them had +the finish of perfection, in make, style, and material. I +wanted the one or the other. But, if I had it, what would be +left for Margaret? + +"Are you tired, Daisy?" said Dr. Sandford, bending down to +look in my face. + +"No, sir. At least, that is not what I was thinking of." + +"What then?" said he. "Will one of these do?" + +"They would do," I said slowly. "But, Dr. Sandford, I should +like to see something else — something that would do for +somebody that was poorer than I." + +"Poorer?" said the doctor, looking funny. "What is the matter, +Daisy? Have you suddenly become bankrupt? You need not be +afraid, for the bank is in my pocket; and I know it will stand +all your demands upon it." + +"No, but — I would indeed, if you please, Dr. Sandford. These +things cost too much for what I want now." + +"Do you like them?" + +"I like them very well." + +"Then take one, whichever you like best. That is my advice to +you, Daisy. The bank will bear it." + +"I think I must not. Please, Dr. Sandford, I should like to +see something that would not cost so much. Do they _all_ cost as +much as these?" + +The doctor gave the order, as I desired. The shopman who was +serving us cast another comprehensive glance at me — I had +seen him give one at the beginning — and tossing off the +velvet coat and twisting off the silk one, he walked away. +Presently came back with a brown silk which he hung in the +place of the velvet one, and a blue cloth, which replaced the +black silk. Every whit as costly, and almost as pretty, both +of them. + +"No," said the doctor, — "you mistook me. We want to look at +some goods fitted for persons who have not long purses." + +"Something inferior to these —" said the man. He was not +uncivil; he just stated the fact. In accordance with which he +replaced the last two coats with a little grey dreadnought, +and a black cloth; the first neat and rough, the last not to +be looked at. It was not in good taste, and a sort of thing +that I neither had worn nor could wear. But the grey +dreadnought was simple and warm and neat, and would offend +nobody. I looked from it to the pretty black cloth which still +hung opposed to it, the one of the first two. Certainly, in +style and elegance _this_ looked like my mother's child, and the +other did not. But this was forty dollars. The dreadnought was +exactly half that sum. I had a little debate with myself — I +remember it, for it was my first experience of that kind of +thing — and all my mother's training had refined in me the +sense of what was elegant and fitting, in dress as well as in +other matters. Until now, I had never had my fancy crossed by +anything I ever had to wear. The little grey dreadnought — how +would it go with my silk dresses? It was like what I had seen +other people dressed in; never my mother or me. Yet it was +perfectly fitting a lady's child, if she could not afford +other; and where was Margaret's cloak to come from? And who +had the best right? I pondered and debated, and then I told +Dr. Sandford I would have the grey coat. I believe I half +wished he would make some objection; but he did not; he paid +for the dreadnought and ordered it sent home; and then I began +to congratulate myself that Margaret's comfort was secure. + +"Is that all, Daisy?" my friend asked. + +"Dr. Sandford," said I, standing up and speaking low, "I want +to find — can I find here, do you think? — a good warm cloak +and dress for Margaret." + +"For Margaret!" said the doctor. + +"Yes; she is not used to the cold, you know; and she has +nothing to keep her comfortable." + +"But, Daisy!" said the doctor, — "Sit down here again; I must +understand this. Was _Margaret_ at the bottom of all these +financial operations?" + +"I knew she wanted something, ever since we came from +Washington," I said. + +"Daisy, she could have had it." + +"Yes, Dr. Sandford; — but —" + +"But what, if you will be so good?" + +"I think it was right for me to get it." + +"I am sorry I do not agree with you at all. It was for _me_ to +get it — I am supplied with funds, Daisy — and your father has +entrusted to me the making of all arrangements which are in +any way good for your comfort. I think, with your leave, I +shall reverse these bargains. Have you been all this time +pleasing Margaret and not yourself?" + +"No, sir," I said, — "if you please. I cannot explain it, Dr. +Sandford; but I know it is right." + +"What is right, Daisy? My faculties are stupid." + +"No, sir; but — let it be as it is, please." + +"But won't you explain it? I ought to know what I am giving my +consent to, Daisy; for just now I am constituted your +guardian. What has Margaret to do with your cloaks? There is +enough for both." + +"But," said I, in a great deal of difficulty, — "there is not +enough for me and everybody." + +"Are you going to take care of the wants of everybody?" + +"I think — I ought to take care of all that I can," I said. + +"But you have not the power." + +"I won't do but what I _have_ the power for." + +"Daisy, what would your father and mother say to such a course +of action? would they allow it, do you think?" + +"But _you_ are my guardian now, Dr. Sandford," — I said, looking +up at him. He paused a minute doubtfully. + +"I am conquered!" he said. "You have absolutely conquered me, +Daisy. I have not a word to say. I wonder if that is the way +you are going through the world in future? What is it now +about Margaret? — for I was bewildered and did not +understand." + +"A warm cloak and dress," I said, delighted; "that is what I +want. Can I get them here?" + +"Doubtful, I should say," the doctor answered; "but we will +try." + +And we did succeed in finding the dress, strong and warm and +suitable; the cloak we had to go to another shop for. On the +way we stopped at the milliner's. My aunt Gary and Mrs. +Sandford employed the same one. + +"I put it in your hands, Daisy!" Dr. Sandford said, as we went +in. "Only let me look on." + +I kept him waiting a good while, I am afraid; but he was very +patient and seemed amused. I was not. The business was very +troublesome to me. This was not so easy a matter as to choose +between stuffs and have the yards measured off. Bonnets are +bonnets, as my aunt always said; and things good in themselves +may not be in the least good for you. And I found the thing +that suited was even more tempting here than it had been in +the cloak ware-room. There was a little velvet hat which I +fancied mamma would have bought for me; it was so stylish, and +at the same time so simple, and became me so well. But it was +of a price corresponding with its beauty. I turned my back on +it, though I seemed to see it just as well through the back +of my head, and tried to find something else. The milliner +would have it there was nothing beside that fitted me. The hat +must go on. + +"She has grown," said the milliner, appealing to Dr. Sandford; +"and you see this is the very thing. This tinge of colour +inside is just enough to relieve the pale cheeks. Do you see, +sir?" + +"It is without a fault," said the doctor. + +"Take it off, please," I said. "I want to find something that +will not cost so much — something that will not cost near so +much." + +"There is that cap that is too large for Miss Van Allen —" the +milliner's assistant remarked. + +"It would not suit Mrs. Randolph at all," was the answer +aside. + +But I begged to see it. Now this was a comfortable, soft +quilted silk cap, with a chinchilla border. Not much style +about it, but also nothing to dislike, except its simplicity. +The price was moderate, and it fitted me. + +You are going to be a different Daisy Randolph from what you +have been all your life — something whispered to me. And the +doctor said, "That makes you look about ten years old again, +Daisy." I had a minute of doubt and delay; then I said I would +have the cap; and the great business was ended. + +Margaret's purchases were all found, and we went home, with +money still in my bank, Dr. Sandford informed me. I was very +tired; but on the whole I was very satisfied. Till my things +came home, and I saw that Mrs. Sandford did not like them. + +"I wish I could have been with you!" she said. + +"What is the matter?" said the doctor. It was the evening, and +we were all together for a few minutes, before Mrs. Sandford +went to her sister. + +"Did you choose these things, Grant?" + +"What is the matter with them?" + +"They are hardly suitable." + +"For the third time, what is the matter with them?" said the +doctor. + +"They are neat, but they are not _handsome_." + +"They will look handsome when they are on," said Dr. Sandford. + +"No, they won't; they will look common. I don't mean _vulgar_ — +you could not buy anything in bad taste — but they are just +what anybody's child might wear." + +"Then Mrs. Randolph's child might." + +Mrs. Sandford gave him a look. "That is just the thing," she +said. "Mrs. Randolph's child might _not_. I never saw anybody +more elegant or more particular about the choice of her dress +than Mrs. Randolph; it is always perfect; and Daisy's always +was. Mrs. Randolph would not like these." + +"Shall we change them, Daisy?" said the doctor. + +I said "no —". + +"Then I hope they will wear out before Mrs. Randolph comes +home," he said. + +All this, somehow, made me uncomfortable. I went off to the +room which had been given to me, where a fire was kept; and I +sat down to think. Certainly, I would have liked the other +coat and hat better, that I had rejected; and the thought of +the rich soft folds of that silky merino were not pleasant to +me. The plaid I had bought _did_ wear a common look in +comparison. I knew it, quite as well as Mrs. Sandford; and +that I had never worn common things; and I knew that in the +merino, properly made; I should have looked my mother's child; +and that in the plaid my mother would not know me. Was I +right? was I wrong? I knelt down before the fire, feeling that +the straight path was not always easy to find. Yet I had +thought I saw it before me. I knelt before the fire, which was +the only light in the room, and opened the page of my dear +little book that had the Bible lessons for every day. This +day's lesson was headed, "That ye adorn the doctrine of God +our Saviour in all things." + +The mist began to clear away. Between adorning and being +adorned, the difference was so great, it set my face quite +another way directly. I went on. "Let your conversation be as +it becometh the gospel of Christ." + +And how should that be? Certainly the spirit of that gospel +had no regard to self-glorification; and had most tender +regard to the wants of others. I began to feel sure that I was +in the way and not out of it. Then came — "If ye be reproached +for the name of Christ, happy are ye. But let none of you +suffer . . . _as a thief, or as an evildoer_" — "Let your light +so shine before men" — "Let not mercy and truth forsake thee; +bind them about thy neck;" — "Whatsoever things are true, +whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are _just_ . . . +think on these things." + +The words came about me, binding up my doubts, making sound my +heart, laying a soft touch upon every rough spot in my +thoughts. True, honest, just, lovely, and of good report — +yes, I would think on these things, and I would not be turned +aside from them. And if I suffered as a Christian, I +determined that I would not be ashamed; I prayed that I might +never; I would take as no dishonour the laughter or the +contempt of those who did not see the two sides of the +question; but as a _thief_ I would not suffer. I earnestly +prayed that I might not. No beauty of dresses or stylishness +of coats or bonnets should adorn me, the price of which God +saw belonged and was due to the suffering of others; more +especially, to the wants of those whose wants made my supply. +That my father and mother, with the usage of old habit, and +the influence of universal custom, should be blind to what I +saw so clearly, made no difference in my duty. I had the light +of the Bible rule, which was not yet, I knew, the lamp to +their feet. I must walk by it, all the same. And my thought +went back now with great tenderness to mammy Theresa's +rheumatism, which wanted flannel; to Maria's hyacinths, which +were her great earthly interest, out of the things of religion; +to Darry's lonely cottage, where he had no lamp to read the +Bible o' nights, and no oil to burn in it. To Pete's solitary +hut, too, where he was struggling to learn to read well, and +where a hymn-book would be the greatest comfort to him. To the +old people, whose one solace of a cup of tea would be gone +unless I gave it them; to the boys who were learning to read, +who wanted testaments; to the bed-ridden and sick who wanted +blankets; to the young and well who wanted gowns (not indeed +for decency, but for the natural pleasure of looking neat and +smart) — and to Margaret, first and last, who was nearest to +me, and who, I began to think, might want some other trifles +besides a cloak. The girl came in at the minute. + +"Margaret," I said, "I have got you a warm gown and a good +thick warm cloak, to-day." + +"A cloak! Miss Daisy —" Margaret's lips just parted and showed +the white beneath. + +"Yes. I saw you were not warm in that thin shawl." + +"It's mighty cold up these ways! —" the girl's shoulders drew +together with involuntary expression. + +"And now, Margaret, what other things do you want, to be nice +and comfortable? You must tell me now, because after I go to +school I cannot see you often, you know." + +"Reckon I find something to do at the school, Miss Daisy. Aint +there servants?" + +"Yes, but I am afraid there may not be another wanted. What +else ought you to have, Margaret?" + +"Miss Daisy knows, I'll hire myself out, and reckon I'll get a +right smart chance of wages; and then, if Miss Daisy let me +take some change, I'd like to get some things —" + +"You may keep all your wages, Margaret," I said hastily; "you +need not bring them to me; but I want to know if you have all +you need now, to be nice and warm?" + +" 'Spect I'd be better for some underclothes —" Margaret said, +half under her breath. + +Of course! I knew it the moment she said it. I knew the +scanty, coarse supply which was furnished to the girls and +women at Magnolia; I knew that more was needed for neatness as +well as for comfort, and something different, now that she was +where no evil distinction would arise from her having it. — I +said I would get what she wanted; and went away back to the +parlour. I mused as I went. If I let Margaret keep her wages — +and I was very certain I could not receive them from her — I +must be prepared to answer it to my father. Perhaps, — yes, I +felt sure as I thought about it — I must contrive to save the +amount of her wages out of what was given to myself; or else +my grant might be reversed and my action disallowed, or at +least greatly disapproved. And my father had given me no right +to dispose of Margaret's wages, or of herself. + +So I came into the parlour. Dr. Sandford alone was there, +lying on the sofa. He jumped up immediately; pulled a great +arm chair near to the fire, and taking hold of me, put me into +it. My purchases were lying on the table, where they had been +disapproved; but I knew what to think of them now. I could +look at them very contentedly. + +"How do they seem, Daisy?" said the doctor, stretching himself +on the cushions again, after asking my permission and pardon. + +"Very well" — I said, smiling. + +"You are satisfied?" + +I said "yes." + +"Daisy," said he, "you have conquered me to-day — I have +yielded — I own myself conquered; but, won't you enlighten me? +As a matter of favour?" + +"About what, Dr. Sandford?" + +"I don't understand you." + +I remember looking at him and smiling. It was so curious a +thing, both that he should, in his philosophy, be puzzled by a +child like me, and that he should care about undoing the +puzzle. + +"There!" said he, — "that is my old little Daisy of ten years +old. Daisy, I used to think she was an extremely dainty and +particular little person." + +"Yes —" said I. + +"Was that correct?" + +"I don't know," said I. "I think it was." + +"Then, Daisy, honestly, — I am asking as a philosopher, and +that means a lover of knowledge, you know, — did you choose +those articles to-day to please yourself?" + +"In one way, I did," I answered. + +"Did they appear to you as they did to Mrs. Sandford, — at the +time?" + +"Yes, Dr. Sandford." + +"So I thought. — Then, Daisy, will you make me understand it? +For I am puzzled." + +I was sorry that he cared about the puzzle, for I did not want +to go into it. I was almost sure he would not make it out if I +did. + +However, he lay there looking at me and waiting. + +"Those other things cost too much, Dr. Sandford — that was +all." + +"There is the puzzle!" said the doctor. "You had the money in +your bank for them, and money for Margaret's things too, and +more if you wanted it; and no bottom to the bank at all, so +far as I could see. And you like pretty things, Daisy, and you +did not choose them." + +"No, sir." + +I hesitated, and he waited. How was I to tell him. He would +simply find it ridiculous. And then I thought — "If any of you +suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed." + +"I thought I should be comfortable in these things, Dr. +Sandford," I then said, glancing at the little chinchilla cap +which lay on the table; — "and respectable. And there were +other people who needed all the money the other things would +have cost." + +"What other people?" said the doctor. "As I am your guardian, +Daisy, it is proper for me to ask, and not impertinent." + +I hesitated again. "I was thinking," I said, "of some of the +people I left at Magnolia." + +"Do you mean the servants?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Daisy, they are cared for." + +I was silent. + +"What do you think they want?" + +"Some that are sick want comfort," I said; "and others who are +not sick want help; and others, I think, want a little +pleasure." I would fain not have spoken, but how could I help +it? The doctor brought his feet off the sofa and sat up and +confronted me. + + +"In the meantime," he said, "you are to be 'comfortable and +respectable.' But, Daisy, do you think your father and mother +would be satisfied with such a statement of your condition?" + +"I suppose not," I was obliged to say. + +"Then do you think it is proper for me to allow such to be the +fact?" + +I looked at him. What there was in my look it is impossible +for me to say; but he laughed a little. + +"Yes," he said, — "I know — you have conquered me to-day. I +own myself conquered — but the question I ask you is, whether +I am justifiable?" + +"I think that depends," I answered, on whether I am +justifiable." + +"Can you justify yourself, Daisy?" — he said, bringing his +hand clown gently over my smooth hair and touching my cheek. +It would have vexed me from anybody else; it did not vex me +from him. "Can you justify yourself, Daisy?" he repeated. + +"Yes, sir," I said; but I felt troubled. + +"Then do it." + +"Dr. Sandford, the Bible says, 'Whatsoever ye would that men +should do to you, do ye even so to them.' " + +"Well?" said he, refusing to draw any conclusions for me. + +"I have more than I want, and they have not enough. I don't +think I ought to keep more than I want." + +"But then arises the question," said he, "how much do you +want? Where is the line, beyond which you, or I, for instance, +have too much?" + +"I was not speaking of anybody but myself," I said. + +"But a rule of action which is the right one for you, would be +right for everybody." + +"Yes, but everybody must apply it for himself," I said. "I was +only applying it for myself." + +"And applying it for yourself, Daisy, is it to cut off for the +future — or ought it — all elegance and beauty? Must you +restrict yourself to mere 'comfort and respectability'? Are +fur and feathers for instance wicked things?" + +He did not speak mockingly; Dr. Sandford never could do an +ungentlemanly thing; he spoke kindly and with a little +rallying smile on his face. But I knew what he thought. + +"Dr. Sandford," said I, "suppose I was a fairy, and that I +stripped the gown off a poor woman's back to change it into a +feather, and stole away her blankets to make them into fur; +what would you think of fur and feathers then?" + +There came a curious lightning through the doctor's blue eyes. +I did not know in the least what it meant. + +"Do you mean to say, Daisy, that the poor people down yonder +at Magnolia want such things as gowns and blankets?" + +"Some do," I said. "You know, nobody is there, Dr. Sandford, +to look after them; and the overseer does not care. It would +be different if papa was at home." + +"I will never interfere with you any more, Daisy," said the +doctor, — "any further than by a little very judicious +interference; and you shall find in me the best helper I can +be to all your plans. You may use me — you have conquered me," +— said he, smiling, and laying himself back on his cushions +again. + +I was very glad it had ended so, for I could hardly have +withstood Dr. Sandford if he had taken a different view of the +matter. And his help, I knew, might be very good in getting +things sent to Magnolia. + +CHAPTER X. + +SCHOOL. + + +I had another time the next day between Mrs Sandford and the +mantua-maker. The mantua-maker came to take orders about +making my school dress. + +"How will you have it trimmed?" she asked. "This sort of stuff +will make no sort of an appearance unless it is well trimmed. +It wants that. You might have a border of dark green leaves — +dark green, like the colour of this stripe — going round the +skirt; that would have a good effect; the leaves set in and +edged with a very small red cord, or green if you like it +better. We trimmed a dress so last week, and it made a very +good appearance." + +"What do you say, Daisy?" + +"How much will it cost?" I asked. + +"Oh, the cost is not very much," said the milliner. "I suppose +we would do it for you, Mrs. Sandford, for twenty-five +dollars." + +"That is too much," I said. + +"You wouldn't say so, if you knew the work it is to set those +leaves round," said the mantua-maker. "It takes hours and +hours; and the cording and all. And the silk, you know, Mrs. +Sandford, _that_ costs now-a-days. It takes a full yard of the +silk, and no washy lining silk, but good stiff dress silk. +Some has 'em made of velvet, but to be sure that would not be +suitable for a common stuff like this. It will be very common, +Mrs. Sandford, without you have it handsomely trimmed." + +"Couldn't you put some other sort of trimming?" + +"Well, there's no other way that looks _distingué_ on this sort +of stuff; that's the most stylish. We could put a band of rows +of black velvet — an inch wide, or half an inch; if you have +it narrower you must put more of them; and then the sleeves +and body to match; but I don't think you would like it so well +as the green leaves. A great many people has 'em trimmed so; +you like it a little out of the common, Mrs. Sandford. Or, you +could have a green ribband." + +"How much would _that_ be?" said Mrs. Sandford. + +"Oh, really I don't just know," the woman answered; "depends +on the ribband; it don't make much difference to you, Mrs. +Sandford; it would be — let me see, — Oh, I suppose we could +do it with velvet for you for fifteen or twenty dollars. You +see, there must be buttons or rosettes at the joinings of the +velvets; and those come very expensive." + +"How much would it be, to make the dress plain?" I asked. + +"_That_ would be plain," the mantua-maker answered quickly. "The +style is, to trim everything very much. Oh, that would be +quite plain, with the velvet." + +"But without any trimming at all?" I asked. "How much would +that be?" I felt an odd sort of shame at pressing the +question; yet I knew I must. + +"Without trimming!" said the woman. "Oh, you could not have it +_without trimming;_ there is nothing made without trimming; it +would have no appearance at all. People would think you had +come out of the country. No young ladies have their dresses +made without trimming this winter." + +"Mrs. Sandford," said I, "I should like to know what the dress +would be without trimming." + +"What would it be, Melinda?" The woman was only a forewoman of +her establishment. + +"Oh, well, Mrs. Sandford, the naked dress I have no doubt +could be made for you for five dollars." + +"You would not have it _so_, Daisy, my dear?" said Mrs. +Sandford. + +But I said I would have it so. It cost me a little difficulty, +and a little shrinking, I remember, to choose this and to hold +to it in the face of the other two. It was the last battle of +that campaign. I had my way; but I wondered privately to +myself whether I was going to look very unlike the children of +other ladies in my mother's position; and whether such +severity over myself was really needed. I turned the question +over again in my own room, and tried to find out why it +troubled me. I could not quite tell. Yet I thought, as I was +doing what I knew to be duty, I had no right to feel this +trouble about it. The trouble wore off before a little thought +of my poor friends at Magnolia. But the question came up again +at dinner. + +"Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford, "did you ever have anything to do +with the Methodists?" + +"No, ma'am," I said, wondering. "What are the Methodists?" + +"I don't know, I am sure," she said, laughing; "only they are +people who sing hymns a great deal, and teach that nobody +ought to wear gay dresses." + +"Why?" I asked. + +"I can't say. I believe they hold that the Bible forbids +ornamenting ourselves." + +I wondered if it did; and determined I would look, And I +thought the Methodists must be nice people. + +"What is on the carpet now?" said the doctor. "Singing or +dressing? You are attacking Daisy, I see, on some score." + +"She won't have her dress trimmed," said Mrs. Sandford. + +The doctor turned round to me, with a wonderful genial +pleasant expression of his fine face; and his blue eye, that I +always liked to meet full, going through me with a sort of +soft power. He was not smiling, yet his look made me smile. + +"Daisy," said he, "are you going to make yourself unlike other +people?" + +"Only my dress, Dr. Sandford," I said. + +"L'habit, c'est l'homme! —" he answered gravely, shaking his +head. + +I remembered his question and words many times in the course +of the next six months. + +In a day or two more my dress was done, and Dr. Sandford went +with me to introduce me at the school. He had already made the +necessary arrangements. It was a large establishment, reckoned +the most fashionable, and at the same time one of the most +thorough, in the city; the house, or houses, standing in one +of the broad clear Avenues, where the streams of human life +that went up and down were all of the sort that wore trimmed +dresses and rolled about in handsome carriages. Just in the +centre and height of the thoroughfare Mme. Ricard's +establishment looked over it. We went in at a stately doorway, +and were shown into a very elegant parlour; where at a grand +piano a young lady was taking a music lesson. The noise was +very disagreeable; but that was the only disagreeable thing in +the place. Pictures were on the walls, a soft carpet on the +floor; the colours of carpet and furniture were dark and rich; +books and trinkets and engravings in profusion gave the look +of cultivated life and the ease of plenty. It was not what I +had expected; nor was Mme. Ricard, who came in noiselessly and +stood before us while I was considering the wonderful +moustache of the music teacher. I saw a rather short, grave +person, very plainly dressed, — but indeed I never thought of +the dress she wore. The quiet composure of the figure, was +what attracted me, and the peculiar expression of the face. It +was sad, almost severe; so I thought it at first; till a smile +once for an instant broke upon the lips, like a flitting +sunbeam out of a cloudy sky; then I saw that kindliness was +quite at home there, and sympathy and a sense of merriment +were not wanting; but the clouds closed again, and the look of +care, or sorrow, I could not quite tell what it was, only that +it was unrest, retook its place on brow and lip. The eye I +think never lost it. Yet it was a searching and commanding +eye; I was sure it knew how to rule. + +The introduction was soon made, and Dr. Sandford bid me good +bye. I felt as if my best friend was leaving me; the only one +I had trusted in since my father and mother had gone away. I +said nothing, but perhaps my face showed my thought, for he +stooped and kissed me. + +"Good bye, Daisy. Remember, I shall expect a letter every +fortnight." + +He had ordered me before to write him as often as that, and +give him a minute account of myself; how many studies I was +pursuing, how many hours I gave to them each day, what +exercise I took, and what amusement; and how I throve withal. +Mme. Ricard had offered to show me my room, and we were +mounting the long stairs while I thought this over. + +"Is Dr. Sandford your cousin, Miss Randolph?" was the question +which came in upon my thoughts. + +"No, ma'am," I answered in extreme surprise. + +"Is he any relation to you?" + +"He is my guardian." + +"I think Dr. Sandford told me that your father and mother are +abroad?" + +"Yes, ma'am; and Dr. Sandford is my guardian." + +We had climbed two flights of stairs, and I was panting. As we +went up, I had noticed a little unusual murmur of noises which +told me I was in a new world. Little indistinguishable noises, +the stir and hum of the busy hive into which I had entered. +Now and then a door had opened, and a head or a figure came +out; but as instantly went back again on seeing Madame, and +the door was softly closed. We reached the third floor. There +a young lady appeared at the further end of the gallery, and +curtseyed to my conductress. + +"Miss Bentley," said Madame, "this is your new companion, Miss +Randolph. Will you be so good as to show Miss Randolph her +room?" + +Madame turned and left us, and the young lady led me into the +room she had just quitted. A large room, light and bright, and +pleasantly furnished; but the one thing that struck my +unaccustomed eyes was the evidence of fulness of occupation. +One bed stood opposite the fireplace; another across the head +of that, between it and one of the windows; a third was +between the doors on the inner side of the room. Moreover, the +first and the last of these were furnished with two pillows +each. I did not in the moment use my arithmetic; but the +feeling which instantly pressed upon me was that of want of +breath. + +"This is the bed prepared for you, I believe," said my +companion civilly, pointing to the third one before the +window. "There isn't room for anybody to turn, round here +now." + +I began mechanically to take off my cap and gloves, looking +hard at the little bed, and wondering what other rights of +possession were to be given me in this place. I saw a +washstand in one window and a large mahogany wardrobe on one +side of the fireplace; a dressing table or chest of drawers +between the windows. Everything was handsome and nice; +everything was in the neatest order; but — where were my +clothes to go? Before I had made up my mind to ask, there came +a rush into the room; I supposed, of the other inmates. One +was a very large, fat, dull-faced girl; I should have thought +her a young woman, only that she was here in a school. +Another, bright and pretty and very good-humoured if there was +any truth ill her smiling black eyes, was much slighter and +somewhat younger; a year or two in advance of myself. The +third was a girl about my own age, shorter and smaller than I, +with also a pretty face, but an eye that I was not so sure of. +She was the last one to come in, and she immediately stopped +and looked at me; I thought, with no pleasure. + +"This is Miss Randolph, girls," said Miss Bentley. "Miss +Randolph, Miss Macy." + +I curtseyed to the fat girl, who gave me a little nod. + +"I am glad she isn't as big as I am," was her comment on the +introduction. I was glad, too. + +"Miss Lansing —" + +This was bright-eyes, who bowed and smiled — she always smiled +— and said, "How do you do?" Then rushed off to a drawer in +search of something. + +"Miss St. Clair, will you come and be introduced to Miss +Randolph?" + +The St. Clair walked up demurely and took my hand. Her words +were in abrupt contrast. "Where are her things going, Miss +Bentley?" I wondered that pretty lips could be so ungracious. +It was not temper which appeared on them, but cool rudeness. + +"Madame said we must make some room for her," Miss Bentley +answered. + +"I don't know where," remarked Miss Macy. "_I_ have not two +inches." + +"She can't have a peg nor a drawer of mine," said the St. +Clair. "Don't you put her there, Bentley." And the young lady +left us with that. + +"We must manage it somehow," said Miss Bentley. "Lansing, look +here, — can't you take your things out of this drawer? Miss +Randolph has no place to lay anything. She must have a little +place, you know." + +Lansing looked up with a perplexed face, and Miss Macy +remarked that nobody had a bit of room to lay anything. + +"I am very sorry —" I said. + +"It is no use being sorry, child," said Miss Macy, "we have +got to fix it, somehow. I know who _ought_ to be sorry. Here — I +can take this pile of things out of this drawer; that is all I +can do. Can't she manage with this half?" + +But Miss Lansing came and made her arrangements, and then it +was found that the smallest of the four drawers was cleared +and ready for my occupation. + +"But if we give you a whole drawer," said Miss Macy, "you must +be content with one peg in the wardrobe — will you?" + +"Oh, and she can have one or two hooks in the closet," said +bright-eyes. "Come here, Miss Randolph — I will show you —" + +And there in the closet I found was another place for washing, +with cocks for hot and cold water; and a press and plenty of +iron hooks; with also plenty of dresses and hats hanging on +them. Miss Lansing moved and changed several of these, till +she had cleared a space for me. + +"There —" she said, "now you'll do, won't you? I don't believe +you can get a scrap of a corner in the wardrobe; Macy and +Bentley and St. Clair take it up so. _I_ haven't but one dress +hanging there, but you've got a whole drawer in the bureau." + +I was not very awkward and clumsy in my belongings, but an +elephant could scarcely have been more bewildered if he had +been requested to lay his proboscis up in a glove box. "I +cannot put a dress in the drawer," I remarked. + +"Oh, you can hang one up, here, under your cap; and that is +all any of us do. Our things, all except our everyday things, +go down stairs in our trunks. Have you many trunks?" + +I told her no, only one. I did not know why it was a little +disagreeable to me to say that. The feeling came and passed. I +hung up my coat and cap, and brushed my hair; my new companion +looking on. Without any remark, however, she presently rushed +off, and I was left alone. I began to appreciate that. I sat +down on the side of my little bed, — to my fancy the very +chairs were appropriated, — and looked at my new place in the +world. + +Five of us in that room! I had always had the comfort of great +space and ample conveniences about me; was it a luxury I had +enjoyed? It had seemed nothing more than a necessity. And now, +must I dress and undress myself before so many spectators? +could I not lock up anything that belonged to me? were all my +nice and particular habits to be crushed into one drawer and +smothered on one or two clothes pins? Must everything I did be +seen? And above all, where could I pray? I looked round in a +sort of fright. There was but one closet in the room, and that +was a washing closet, and held besides a great quantity of +other people's belongings. I could not, even for a moment, +shut it against them. In a kind of terror, I looked to make +sure that I was alone, and fell on my knees. It seemed to me +that all I could do was to pray every minute that I should +have to myself. They would surely be none too many. Then +hearing a footstep somewhere, I rose again and took from my +bag my dear little book. It was so small I could carry it +where I had not room for my Bible. I looked for the page of +the day, I remember now, with my eyes full of tears. + +"Be watchful" — were the first words that met me. Ay, I was +sure I would need it; but how was a watch to be kept up, if I +could never be alone to take counsel with myself? I did not +see it; this was another matter from Miss Pinshon's unlocked +door. After all, that door had not greatly troubled me; my +room had not been of late often invaded. Now I had no room. +What more would my dear little book say to me? + +"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a +roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." + +Was the battle to go so hard against me? and what should I do +without that old and well-tried weapon of "all-prayer"? +Nothing; I should be conquered. I must have and keep that, I +resolved; if I lay awake and got up at night to use it. Dr. +Sandford would not like such a proceeding; but there were +worse dangers than the danger of lessened health. I _would_ +pray; but what next? + +"Take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently." — "What +I say unto you I say unto all, Watch." + +I stood by the side of my bed, dashing the tears from my eyes. +Then I heard, as I thought, some one coming, and in haste +looked to see what else might be on the page; what further +message or warning. And something like a sunbeam of healing +flashed into my heart with the next words. + +"Fear thou not: for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am +thy God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I +will uphold thee with the right hand of My righteousness." + +"I, the Lord thy God, will hold thy right hand." + +I was healed. I put up my little book in my bag again, feeling +whole and sound. It did not matter that I was crowded and +hindered and watched; for it was written also, "He preserveth +the way of his saints;" and I was safe. + +I sat a little while longer alone. Then came a rush and rustle +of many feet upon the stairs, many dresses moving, many voices +blending in a little soft roar; as ominous as the roar of the +sea which one hears in a shell. My four room-mates poured into +the room, accompanied by one or two others; very busy and +eager about their affairs that they were discussing. Meanwhile +they all began to put themselves in order. + +"The bell will ring for tea directly," said Miss Macy, +addressing herself to me, — "are you ready?" + +"Tisn't much trouble to fix _her_ hair —" said my friend with +the black eyes. + +Six pair of eyes for a moment were turned upon me. + +"You are too old to have your hair so," remarked Miss Bentley. +"You ought to let it grow." + +"Why don't you?" said Miss Lansing. + +"She is a Roundhead," said the St. Clair, brushing her own +curls; which were beautiful and crinkled all over her head, +while my hair was straight. "I don't suppose she ever saw a +Cavalier before." + +"St. Clair, you are too bad!" said Miss Mary. "Miss Randolph +is a stranger." + +St. Clair made no answer, but finished her hair and ran off; +and presently the others filed off after her; and a loud +clanging bell giving the signal, I thought best to go too. +Every room was pouring forth its inmates; the halls and +passages were all alive and astir. In the train of the moving +crowd, I had no difficulty to find my way to the place of +gathering. + +This was the school parlour; not the one where I had seen Mme. +Ricard. Parlours, rather; there was a suite of them, three +deep; for this part of the house had a building added in the +rear. The rooms were large and handsome; not like school +rooms, I thought; and yet very different from my home; for +they were bare. Carpets and curtains, sofas and chairs and +tables, were in them to be sure; and even pictures; yet they +were bare; for books and matters of art and little social +luxuries were wanting, such as I had all my life been +accustomed to, and such as filled Mme. Ricard's own rooms. +However, this first evening I could hardly see how the rooms +looked, for the lining of humanity which ran round all the +walls. There was a shimmer as of every colour in the rainbow; +and a buzz that could only come from a hive full. I, who had +lived all my life where people spoke softly, and where many +never spoke together, was bewildered. + +The buzz hushed suddenly, and I saw Mme. Ricard's figure going +slowly down the rooms. She was in the uttermost contrast to +all her household. Ladylike always, and always dignified, her +style was her own, and I am sure that nobody ever felt that +she had not enough. Yet Mme. Ricard had nothing about her that +was conformed to the fashions of the day. Her dress was of a +soft kind of serge, which fell around her or swept across the +rooms in noiseless yielding folds. Hoops were the fashion of +the day; but Mme. Ricard wore no hoops; she went with ease and +silence where others went with a rustle and a warning to clear +the way. The back of her head was covered with a little cap as +plain as a nun's cap; and I never saw an ornament about her. +Yet criticism never touched Mme. Ricard. Not even the +criticism of a set of school-girls; and I had soon to learn +that there is none more relentless. + +The tea-table was set in the further room of the three. Mime. +Ricard passed down to that. Presently I heard her low voice +saying, "Miss Randolph". Low as it always was, it was always +heard. I made my way down through the rooms to her presence; +and there I was introduced to the various teachers. +Mademoiselle Genevieve, Miss Babbitt, Mme. Jupon, and Miss +Dumps. I could not examine them just then. I felt I was on +exhibition myself. + +"Is Miss Randolph to come to me, Madame?" the first of these +ladies asked. She was young, bright, black-eyed, and full of +energy; I saw so much. + +"I fancy she will come to all of you," said Madame. "Except +Miss Babbitt. You can write and read, I dare say, Miss +Randolph?" she went on with a smile. I answered of course. + +"What have been your principal studies for the past year?" + +I said, mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy and history. + +"Then she is mine!" exclaimed Mlle. Genevieve. + +"She is older than she looks," said Miss Babbitt. + +"Her hair is young, but her eyes are not," said the former +speaker; who was a lively lady. + +"French have you studied?" Madame went on. + +"Not so much," I said. + +"Mme. Jupon will want you." + +"I am sure she is a good child," said Mme. Jupon, who was a +good-natured, plain-looking Frenchwoman without a particle of +a Frenchwoman's grace or address. "I will be charmed to have +her." + +"You may go back to your place, Miss Randolph," said my +mistress. "We will arrange all the rest to-morrow." + +"Shall I go back with you?" asked Mlle. Genevieve. "Do you +mind going alone?" + +She spoke very kindly, but I was at a loss for her meaning. I +saw the kindness; why it showed itself in such an offer I +could not imagine. + +"I am very much obliged to you, ma'am," — I began, when a +little burst of laughter stopped me. It came from all the +teachers; even Mme. Ricard was smiling. + +"You are out for once, Genevieve," she said. + +"La charmante!" said Mme. Jupon. "Voyez l'aplomb!" + +"No, you don't want me," said Mlle. Genevieve nodding. "Go — +you'll do." + +I went back to the upper room, and presently tea was served. I +sat alone; there was nobody near me who knew me; I had nothing +to do while munching my bread and butter but to examine the +new scene. There was a great deal to move my curiosity. In the +first place, I was surprised to see the rooms gay with fine +dresses. I had come from the quiet of Magnolia, and accustomed +to the simplicity of my mother's taste; which if it sometimes +adorned me, did it always in subdued fashion, and never +flaunted either its wealth or beauty. But on every side of me +I beheld startling costumes; dresses that explained my mantua- +maker's eagerness about velvet and green leaves. I saw that +she was right; her trimmings would have been "quiet" here. +Opposite me was a brown merino, bordered with blocks of blue +silk running round the skirt. Near it was a dress of brilliant +red picked out with black cord and heavy with large black +buttons. Then a black dress caught my eye which had an +embattled trimming of black and gold, continued round the +waist and completed with a large gold buckle. Then there was a +grey cashmere with red stars and a bronze-coloured silk with +black velvet a quarter of a yard wide let into the skirt; the +body all of black velvet. I could go on, if my memory would +serve me. The rooms were full of this sort of thing. Yet more +than the dresses the heads surprised me. Just at that time the +style of hair-dressing was one of those styles which are +endurable, and perhaps even very beautiful, in the hands of a +first-rate artist and on the heads of the few women who dress +well; but which are more and more hideous the further you get +from that distant pinnacle of the mode, and the lower down +they spread among the ranks of society. I thought, as I looked +from one to another, I had never seen anything so ill in +taste, so outraged in style, so unspeakable in ugliness as +well as in pretension. I supposed then it was the fashion +principally which was to blame. Since then, I have seen the +same fashion on one of those heads that never wear anything +but in good style. It gathered a great wealth of rich hair +into a mass at the back of the head, yet leaving the top and +front of the hair in soft waves; and the bound up mass behind +was loose and soft and flowed naturally from the head; it had +no hard outline nor regular shape; it was nature's luxuriance +just held in there from bursting down over neck and shoulders; +and hardly that, for some locks were almost escaping. The +whole was to the utmost simple, natural, graceful, rich. But +these caricatures! All that they knew was to mass the hair at +the back of the head; and that fact was attained. But some +looked as if they had a hard round cannon-ball fastened there; +others suggested a stuffed pincushion, ready for pins; others +had a mortar shell in place of a cannon-ball, the size was so +enormous; in nearly all, the hair was strained tight over or +under something; in not one was there an effect which the +originator of the fashion would not have abhorred. Girlish +grace was nowhere to be seen, either in heads or persons; +girlish simplicity had no place. It was a school; but the +company looked fitter for the stiff assemblages of ceremony +that should be twenty years later in their lives. + +My heart grew very blank. I felt unspeakably alone; not merely +because there was nobody there whom I knew, but because there +was nobody whom it seemed to me I ever should know. I took my +tea and bits of bread and butter, feeling forlorn. A year in +that place seemed to me longer than I could bear. I had +exchanged my King Log for King Stork. + +It was some relief when after tea we were separated into other +rooms and sat down to study. But I dreamed over my book. I +wondered how heads could study that had so much trouble on the +outside. I wandered over the seas to that spot somewhere that +was marked by the ship that carried my father and another. +Only now going out towards China; and low long months might +pass before China would be lone with and the ship be bearing +them back again. The lesson given me that night was not +difficult enough to bind my attention; and my heart grew very +heavy. So heavy, that I felt I must find help somewhere. And +when one's need is so shut in, then it looks in the right +quarter — the only one left open. + +My little book was up stairs in my bag; but my thoughts flew +to my page of that day and the "Fear thou not, for I am with +thee." Nobody knows, who has not wanted them, how good those +words are. Nobody else can understand how sweet they were to +me. I lost for a little all sight of the study table and the +faces round it. I just remembered who was WITH ME; in the +freedom and joy of that presence both fears and loneliness +seemed to fade away. "I, the Lord, will hold thy right hand." +Yes, and I, a poor little child, put my hand in the hand of my +great Leader, and felt safe and strong. + +I found very soon I had enemies to meet that I had not yet +reckoned with. The night passed peacefully enough; and the +next day I was put in the schoolroom and found my place in the +various classes. The schoolrooms were large and pleasant; +large they had need to be, for the number of day scholars who +attended in them was very great. They were many as well as +spacious; different ages being parted off from each other. +Besides the schoolrooms proper, there were rooms for +recitation, where the classes met their teachers; so we had +the change and variety of moving from one part of the house to +another. We met Mlle. Genevieve in one room, for mathematics +and Italian; Mme. Jupon in another, for French. Miss Dumps +seized us in another, for writing and geography, and made the +most of us; she was a severe little person in her teaching and +in her discipline; but she was good. We called her Miss Maria, +in general. Miss Babbitt had the history; and she did nothing +to make it intelligible or interesting. My best historical +times thus far, by much, had been over my clay map and my red- +headed and black-headed pins, studying the changes of England +and her people. But Mlle. Genevieve put a new life into +mathematics. I could never love the study; but she made it a +great deal better than Miss Pinshon made it. Indeed I believe +that to learn anything under Mlle. Genevieve, would have been +pleasant. She had so much fire and energy; she taught with +such a will; her black eyes were so keen both for her pupils +and her subject. One never thought of the discipline in Mlle. +Genevieve's room, but only of the study. I was young to be +there, in the class where she put me; but my training had +fitted me for it. With Mme. Jupon also I had an easy time. She +was good nature itself, and from the first showed a particular +favour and liking for me. And as I had no sort of wish to +break rules, with Miss Maria too I got on well. It was out of +school and out of study hours that my difficulties came upon +me. + +For a day or two I did not meet them. I was busy with the +school routine, and beginning already to take pleasure in it. +Knowledge was to be had here; lay waiting to be gathered up; +and that gathering I always enjoyed. Miss Pinshon had kept me +on short allowance. It was the third or fourth day after my +arrival, that going up after dinner to get ready for a walk I +missed my chinchilla cap from its peg. I sought for it in +vain. + +"Come, Daisy," said Miss Lansing, make haste. Babbitt will be +after you directly if you aren't ready. Put on your cap." + +"I can't find it," I said. "I left it here, in its place, but +I can't find it." + +There was a burst of laughter from three of my room-mates, as +Miss St. Clair danced out from the closet with the cap on her +own brows; and then with a caper of agility, taking it off, +flung it up to the chandelier, where it hung on one of the +burners. + +"For shame, Faustina, that's too bad. How call she get it?" +said Miss Bentley. + +"I don't want her to get it," said the St. Clair coolly. + +"Then how can she go to walk?" + +"I don't want her to go to walk." + +"Faustina, that isn't right. Miss Randolph is a stranger; you +shouldn't play tricks on her." + +"Roundheads were always revolutionists," said the girl +recklessly. "_A la lanterne!_ Heads or hats — it don't signify +which. That is an example of what our Madame calls +'symbolism.' " + +"Hush — sh! Madame would call it something else. Now how are +we going to get the cap down?" + +For the lamp hung high, having been pushed up out of reach for +the day. The St. Clair ran off, and Miss Macy followed; but +the two others consulted, and Lansing ran down to waylay the +chambermaid and beg a broom. By the help of the broom handle +my cap was at length dislodged from its perch, and restored to +me. But I was angry. I felt the fiery current running through +my veins; and the unspeakable saucy glance of St. Clair's eye, +as I passed her to take my place in the procession, threw fuel +on the fire. I think for years I had not been angry in such a +fashion. The indignation I had at different times felt against +the overseer at Magnolia was a justifiable thing. Now I was +angry and piqued. The feeling was new to me. — I had been +without it very long. I swallowed the ground with my feet +during that walk; but before the walk came to an end the +question began to come up in my mind, what was the matter? and +whether I did well? These sprinklings of water on the flame I +think made it leap into new life at first; but as they came +and came again, I had more to think about than St. Clair, when +I got back to the house. Yes, and as we were all taking off +our things together I was conscious that I shunned her; that +the sight of her was disagreeable; and that I would have liked +to visit some gentle punishment upon her careless head. The +bustle of business swallowed up the feeling for the rest of +the time till we went to bed. + +But then it rose very fresh, and I began to question myself +about it in the silence and darkness. Finding myself inclined +to justify myself, I bethought me to try this new feeling by +some of the words I had been studying in my little book for a +few days past. "The entrance of Thy words giveth light" — was +the leading test for the day that had just gone; now I thought +I would try it in my difficulty. The very nest words on the +page, I remembered were these. "God is light, and in him is no +darkness at all." + + +It came into my mind as soon, that this feeling of anger and +resentment which troubled me had to do with darkness, not with +the light. In vain I reasoned; to prove the contrary; I _felt_ +dark. I could not look up to that clear white light where God +dwells, and feel at all that I was "walking in the light as He +is in the light." Clearly Daisy Randolph was out of the way. +And I went on with bitterness of heart to the next words — "Ye +_were_ sometime darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord; walk +as children of light." + +And what then? was I to pass by quietly the insolence of St. +Clair? was I to take it quite quietly, and give no sign even +of annoyance? take no means of showing my displeasure, or of +putting a stop to the naughtiness that called it forth? My +mind put these questions impatiently, and still, as it did so, +an answer came from somewhere, — "Walk as children of light." +I _knew_ that children of light would reprove darkness only with +light; and a struggle began. Other words came into my head +then, which made the matter only clearer. "If any man smite +thee on the one cheek, turn to him the other." "Love your +enemies." Ah, but how could I? with what should I put out this +fire kindled in my heart, which seemed only to burn the +fiercer whatever I threw upon it? And then, other words still +came sweeping upon me with their sweetness, and I remembered +who had said, "I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee." +I softly got out of bed, wrapped the coverlid round me, and +knelt down to pray. For I had no time to lose. To-morrow I +must meet my little companion, and to-morrow I _must_ be ready +to walk as a child of light, and to-night the fires of +darkness were burning in my heart. I was long on my knees. I +remember, in a kind of despair at last I flung myself on the +word of Jesus, and cried to Him as Peter did when he saw the +wind boisterous. I remember, how the fire died out in my +heart, till the very coals were dead; and how the day and the +sunlight came stealing in, till it was all sunshine. I gave my +thanks, and got into bed, and slept without a break the rest +of the night. + +CHAPTER XI. + +A PLACE IN THE WORLD. + + +I was a humbler child when I got out of bed the next morning, +I think, than ever I had been in my life before. But I had +another lesson to learn. + +I was not angry any more at Miss St. Clair. That was gone. +Even when she did one or two other mischievous things to me, +the rising feeling of offence was quickly got under; and I +lived in great charity with her. My new lesson was of another +sort. + +Two or three days passed, and then came Sunday. It was never a +comfortable day at Mme. Ricard's. We all went to church of +course, under the care of one or other of the teachers; and we +had our choice where to go. Miss Babbitt went to a +Presbyterian church. Miss Maria to a high Episcopal. Mme. +Jupon attended a little French Protestant chapel; and Mlle. +Genevieve and Mme. Ricard went to the Catholic church. The +first Sunday I had gone with them, not knowing at all whither. +I found that would not do; and since then I had tried the +other parties. But I was in a strait; for Miss Maria's church +seemed to me a faded image of Mlle. Genevieve's; the +Presbyterian church which Miss Babbitt went to was stiff and +dull; I was not at home in either of them, and could not +understand or enjoy what was spoken. The very music had an air +of incipient petrification, if I can speak so about sounds. At +the little French chapel I could as little comprehend the +words that were uttered. But in the pulpit there was a man +with a shining face; a face full of love and truth and +earnestness. He spoke out of his heart, and no set words; and +the singing was simple and sweet and the hymns beautiful. I +could understand them, for I had the hymn-book in my hands. +Also I had the French Bible, and Mme. Jupon, delighted to have +me with her, assured me that if I listened I would very soon +begin to understand the minister's preaching just as well as +if it were English. So I went with Mme. Jupon, and thereby +lost some part of Mlle. Genevieve's favour; but that I did not +understand till afterwards. + +We had all been to church as usual, this Sunday, and we were +taking off our hats and things up stairs, after the second +service. My simple toilet was soon made; and I sat upon the +side of my little bed, watching those of my companions. They +were a contrast to mine. The utmost that money could do, to +bring girls into the fashion, was done for these girls; for +the patrons of Mme. Ricard's establishment were nearly all +rich. + +Costly coats and cloaks, heavy trimmed, were surmounted with +every variety of showy head gear, in every variety of +unsuitableness. To study bad taste, one would want no better +field than the heads of Mme. Ricard's seventy boarders dressed +for church. Not that the articles which were worn on the heads +were always bad; some of them came from irreproachable +workshops; but there was everywhere the bad taste of +overdressing, and nowhere the tact of appropriation. The hats +were all on the wrong heads. Everybody was a testimony of what +money can do without art. I sat on my little bed, vaguely +speculating on all this as I watched my companions' disrobing; +at intervals humming the sweet French melody to which the last +hymn had been sung; when St. Clair paused in her talk and +threw a glance in my direction. It lighted on my plain plaid +frock and undressed hair. + +"Don't you come from the country, Miss Randolph?" she said, +insolently enough. + +I answered yes. And I remembered what my mantua-maker had +said. + +"Did you have that dress made there?" + +"For shame, St. Clair!" said Miss Bentley; "let Miss Randolph +alone. I am sure her dress is very neat." + +"I wonder if women don't wear long hair where she came from —" +said the girl, turning away from me again. The others laughed. + +I was as little pleased at that moment with the defence as +with the attack. The instant thought in my mind was, that Miss +Bentley knew no more how to conduct the one than Miss St. +Clair to make the other; if the latter had no civility, the +first had no style. Now the St. Clair was one of the best +dressed girls in school and came from one of the most +important families. I thought, if she knew where I came from, +and who my mother was, she would change her tone. +Nevertheless, I wished mamma would order me to let my hair +grow, and I began to think whether I might not do it without +order. And I thought also that the spring was advancing, and +warm weather would soon be upon us; and that these girls would +change their talk and their opinion about me when they saw my +summer frocks. There was nothing like _them_ in all the school. +I ran over in my mind their various elegance, of texture, and +lace, and fine embroidery, and graceful, simple drapery. And +also I thought, if these girls could see Magnolia, its +magnificent oaks, and its acres of timber, and its sweeps of +rich fields, and its troops of servants, their minds would be +enlightened as to me and my belongings. + +These meditations were a mixture of comfort and discomfort to +me; but on the whole I was not comfortable. This process of +comparing myself with my neighbours, I was not accustomed to; +and even though its results were so favourable, I did not like +it. Neither did I quite relish living under a cloud; and my +eyes being a little sharpened now, I could see that not by my +young companions alone, but by every one of the four teachers, +I was looked upon as a harmless little girl whose mother knew +nothing about the fashionable world. I do not think that +anything in my manner showed either my pique or my disdain; I +believe I went about just as usual; but these things were +often in my thoughts, and taking by degrees more room in them. + +It was not till the Sunday came round again, that I got any +more light. The afternoon service was over; we had come home +and laid off our bonnets and cloaks; for though we were in +April it was cold and windy; and my school-fellows had all +gone down stairs to the parlour, where they had the privilege +of doing what they pleased before tea. I was left alone. It +was almost my only time for being alone in the whole week. I +had an hour then; and I used to spend it in my bedroom with my +Bible. To-day I was reading the first epistle of John, which I +was very fond of, and as my custom was, not reading merely, +but pondering and praying over the words verse by verse. So I +found that I understood them better and enjoyed them a great +deal more. I came to these words, — + +"Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, +that we should be called the sons of God; therefore the world +knoweth us not, because it knew Him not." + +I had dwelt some time upon the first part of the verse, +forgetting all my discomforts of the week past; and came in +due course to the next words. I never shall forget how they +swept in upon me. "_The world knoweth us not_." — What did that +mean? "Because it knew Him not." How did it not know Him? He +was in the midst of men; He lived no hidden life; the world +knew Him well enough as a benefactor, a teacher, a reprover; +in what sense did it _not_ know Him? And I remembered, it did +not know Him as one of its own party. He was "this fellow," — +and "the deceiver;" — "the Nazarene;" "they called the Master +of the house Beelzebub." And so, the world knoweth _us_ not; and +I knew well enough why; because we must be like Him. And then, +I found an unwillingness in myself to have these words true of +me. I had been very satisfied under the slighting tones and +looks of the little world around me, thinking that they were +mistaken and would by and by know it; they would know that in +all that they held so dear, of grace and fashion and elegance +and distinguished appearance, my mother, and of course I, were +not only their match but above them. Now, must I be content to +have them never know it? But, I thought, I could not help +their seeing the fact; if I dressed as my mother's child was +accustomed to dress, they would know what sphere of life I +belonged to. And then the words bore down upon me again, with +their uncompromising distinctness, — "_the world knoweth us +not_." I saw it was a mark and character of those that belonged +to Christ. I saw that, if I belonged to Him, the world must +not know me. The conclusion was very plain. And to secure the +conclusion, the way was very plain too; I must simply not be +like the world. I must not be of the world; and I must let it +be known that I was not. + +Face to face with the issue, I started back. For not to be of +the world, meant, not to follow their ways. I did not want to +follow some of their ways; I had no desire to break the +Sabbath, for example; but I did like to wear pretty and +elegant and expensive things, and fashionable things. It is +very true, I had just denied myself this pleasure, and bought +a plain dress and coat that did not charm me; but that was in +favour of Margaret and to save money for her. And I had no +objection to do the same thing again and again, for the same +motive; and to deny myself to the end of the chapter, so long +as others were in need. But that was another matter from +shaking hands with the world at once, and being willing that +for all my life it should never know me as one of those whom +it honoured. Never _know_ me, in fact. I must be something out +of the world's consciousness, and of no importance to it. And +to begin with, I must never try to enlighten my school- +fellows' eyes about myself. Let them think that Daisy Randolph +came from somewhere in the country, and was accustomed to wear +no better dresses in ordinary than her school plaid. Let them +never be aware that I had ponies and servants and lands and +treasures. Nay, the force of the words I had read went further +than that. I felt it, down in my heart. Not only I must take +no measures to proclaim my title to the world's regard; but I +must be such and so unlike it in my whole way of life, dress +and all, that the world would not wish to recognise me, nor +have anything to do with me. + +I counted the cost now, and it seemed heavy. There was Miss +Bentley, with her clumsy finery, put on as it were one dollar +above the other. She patronised me, as a little country-girl +who knew nothing. Must I not undeceive her? There was Faustina +St. Clair, really of a good family, and insolent on the +strength of it; must I never let her know that mine was as +good, and that my mother had as much knowledge of the +proprieties and elegancies of life as ever hers had? These +girls and plenty of the others looked down upon me as +something inferior; not belonging to their part of society; +must I be content henceforth to live so simply that these and +others who judge by the outside would never be any wiser as to +what I really was? Something in me rebelled. Yet the words I +had been reading were final and absolute. "The world knoweth +us _not_;" and "us," I knew, meant the little band in whose +hearts Christ is king. Surely I was one of them. But I was +unwilling to slip out of the world's view and be seen by it no +more. I struggled. + +It was something very new in my experience. I had certainly +felt struggles of duty in other times, but they had never +lasted long. This lasted. With an eye made keen by conscience, +I looked now in my reading to see what else I might find that +would throw light on the matter and perhaps soften off the +uncompromising decision of the words of St. John. By and by I +came to these words — + +"If ye were of the world, the world would love his own. But +because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of +the world, _therefore the world hateth you_." + +I shut the book. The issue could not be more plainly set +forth. I must choose between the one party and the other. Nay, +I had chosen; — but I must agree to belong but to one. + +Would anybody say that a child could not have such a struggle? +that fourteen years do not know yet what "the world" means? +Alas, it is a relative term; and a child's "world" may be as +mighty for her to face, as any other she will ever know. I +think I never found any more formidable. Moreover, it is less +unlike the big world than some would suppose. + +On the corner of the street, just opposite to our windows, +stood a large handsome house which we always noticed for its +flowers. The house stood in a little green courtyard, +exquisitely kept, which at one side and behind gave room for +several patches of flower beds, at this time filled with +bulbous plants. I always lingered as much as I could in +passing the iron railings, to have a peep at the beauty +within. The grass was now of a delicious green, and the tulips +and hyacinths and crocuses were in full bloom, in their +different oval-shaped beds, framed in with the green. Besides +these, from the windows of a greenhouse that stretched back +along the street, there looked over a brilliant array of other +beauty; I could not tell what; great bunches of scarlet and +tufts of white and gleamings of yellow, that made me long to +be there. + +"Who lives in that house?" Miss Bentley asked one evening. It +was the hour before tea, and we were all at our room windows +gazing down into the avenue. + +"Why don't you know?" said slow Miss Macy. That's Miss +Cardigan's house." + +"I wonder who she is," said Miss Lansing. "It isn't a New York +name." + +"Yes, it is," said Macy. "She's lived there forever. She used +to be there, and her flowers, when I was four years old." + +"I guess she isn't anybody, is she?" said Miss Bentley. "I +never see any carriages at her door. Hasn't she a carriage of +her own, I wonder, or how does she travel? Such a house ought +to have a carriage." + +"I'll tell you," said the St. Clair, coolly as usual. "She +goes out in a wagon with an awning to it. _She_ don't know +anything about carriages." + +"But she must have money, you know," urged Miss Bentley. "She +couldn't keep up that house, and the flowers, and the +greenhouse and all, without money." + +"She's got money," said the St. Clair. "Her mother made it +selling cabbages in the market. Very likely she sold flowers +too." + +There was a general exclamation and laughter at what was +supposed to be one of St. Clair's flights of mischief; but the +young lady stood her ground calmly, and insisted that it was a +thing well known. "My grandmother used to buy vegetables from +old Mrs. Cardigan when we lived in Broadway," she said. "It's +quite true. That's why she knows nothing about carriages." + +"That sort of thing don't hinder other people from having +carriages," said Miss Lansing. "There's Mr. Mason, next door +to Miss Cardigan, — his father was a tailor; and the Steppes, +two doors off, do you know what they were? They were millers, +a little way out of town; nothing else; had a mill and ground +flour. They made a fortune I suppose, and now here they are in +the midst of other people." + +"Plenty of carriages, too," said Miss Macy; "and everything +else." + +"After all," said Miss Bentley, after a pause, "I suppose +everybody's money had to be made somehow, in the first +instance. I suppose all the Millers in the world came from +real millers once; and the Wheelwrights from wheelwrights." + +"And what a world of smiths there must have been, first and +last," said Miss Lansing. "The world is full of their +descendants." + +"_Everybody's_ money wasn't made, though," said the St. Clair, +with an inexpressible attitude, of her short upper lip. + +"I guess it was, — if you go back far enough," said Miss Macy, +whom nothing disturbed. But I saw that while Miss Lansing and +Miss St. Clair were at ease in the foregoing conversation, +Miss Bentley was not. + +"You _can't_ go back far enough," said the St. Clair haughtily. + +"How then?" said the other. "How do you account for it? Where +did their money come from?" + +"It grew," said the St. Clair ineffably. "They were lords of +the soil." + +"Oh! — But it had to be dug out, I suppose," said Miss Macy. + +"There were others to do that." + +"After all," said Miss Macy, "how is money that grew any +better than money that is made? It is all made by somebody, +too." + +"If it is made by somebody else, it leaves your hands clean," +the St. Clair answered, with an insolence worthy of maturer +years; for Miss Macy's family had grown rich by trade. She was +of a slow temper, however, and did not take fire." + +"My grandfather's hands were clean," she said; "yet he made his +own money. Honest hands always are clean." + +"Do you suppose Miss Cardigan's were when she was handling her +cabbages?" said St. Clair. "I have no doubt Miss Cardigan's +house smells of cabbages now." + +"O St. Clair!" — Miss Lansing said, laughing. + +"I always smell them when I go past," said the other, +elevating her scornful little nose; it was a handsome nose +too. + +"I don't think it makes any difference," said Miss Bentley, +"provided people _have_ money, how they came by it. Money buys +the same things for one that it does for another." + +"Now, my good Bentley, that is just what it _don't_," said St. +Clair, drumming upon the window-pane with the tips of her +fingers. + +"Why not?" + +"Because! — people that have always had money know how to use +it; and people that have just come into their money, _don't_ +know. You can tell the one from the other as far off as the +head of the avenue." + +"But what is to hinder their going to the same milliner and +mantua-maker, for instance, or the same cabinet-maker, — and +buying the same things?" + +"Or the same jeweller, or the same — anything? So they could, +if they knew which they were." + +"Which _what_ were? It is easy to tell which is a fashionable +milliner, or mantua-maker; everybody knows that." + +"It don't do some people any good," said St. Clair, turning +away. "When they get in the shop, they do not know what to buy; +and if they buy it they can't put it on. People that are not +fashionable can't _be_ fashionable." + +I saw the glance that fell, scarcely touching, on my plain +plaid frock. I was silly enough to feel it too. I was unused +to scorn. St. Clair returned to the window, perhaps sensible +that she had gone a little too far. + +"I can tell you now," she said, "what that old Miss Cardigan +has got in her house — just as well as if I saw it." + +"Did you ever go in?" said Lansing eagerly. + +"We don't visit," said the other. "But I can tell you, just as +well; and you can send Daisy Randolph some day to see if it is +true." + +"Well, go on, St. Clair — what is there?" said Miss Macy. + +"There's a marble hall of course; that the mason built; it +isn't her fault. Then in the parlours there are thick carpets, +that cost a great deal of money and are as ugly as they can +be, with every colour in the world. The furniture is red +satin, or maybe blue, staring bright, against a light green +wall panelled with gold. The ceilings are gold and white, with +enormous chandeliers. On the wall there are some very big +picture frames, with nothing in them — to speak of; there is a +table in the middle of the floor with a marble top, and the +piers are filled with mirrors down to the floor; and the +second room is like the first and the third is like the +second, and there is nothing else in any of the rooms but what +I have told you." + +"Well, it is a very handsome house, I should think, if you +have told true," said Miss Bentley. + +St. Clair left the window with a scarce perceptible but most +wicked smile at her friend Miss Lansing; and the group +scattered. Only I remained to think it over and ask myself, +could I let go my vantage ground? could I make up my mind to +do forever without the smile and regard of that portion of the +world which little St. Clair represented? It is powerful, even +in a school! + +I had seen how carelessly this undoubted child of birth and +fashion wielded the lash of her tongue; and how others bowed +before it. I had seen Miss Bentley wince, and Miss Macy bite +her lip; but neither of them dared affront the daughter of +Mrs. St. Clair. Miss Lansing was herself of the favoured +class, and had listened lightly. Fashion was power, that was +plain. Was I willing to forego it? was I willing to be one of +those whom fashion passes by as St. Clair had glanced on my +dress — as something not worthy a thought? + +I was not happy, those days. Something within me was +struggling for self-assertion. It was new to me; for until +then I had never needed to assert my claims to anything. For +the first time, I was looked down upon, and I did not like it. +I do not quite know why I was made to know this so well. My +dress, if not showy or costly, was certainly without blame in +its neatness and niceness, and perfectly becoming my place as +a school-girl. And I had very little to do at that time with +my schoolmates, and that little was entirely friendly in its +character. I am obliged to think, looking back at it now, that +some rivalry was at work. I did not then understand it. But I +was taking a high place in all my classes. I had gone past St. +Clair in two or three things. Miss Lansing was too far behind +in her studies to feel any jealousy on that account; but +besides that, I was an unmistakeable favourite with all the +teachers. They liked to have me do anything for them or with +them; if any privilege was to be given, I was sure to be one +of the first names called to share it; if I was spoken to for +anything, the manner and tone were in contrast with those used +towards almost all my fellows. It may have been partly for +these reasons that there was a little positive element in the +slights which I felt. The effect of the whole was to make a +long struggle in my mind. "The world knoweth us not" — gave +the character and condition of that party to which I belonged. +I was feeling now what those words mean, — and it was not +pleasant. + +This struggle had been going on for several weeks, and growing +more and more wearying, when Mrs. Sandford came one day to see +me. She said I did not look very well, and obtained leave for +me to take a walk with her. I was glad of the change. It was a +pleasant, bright afternoon; we strolled up the long avenue, +then gay and crowded with passers to and fro in every variety +and in the height of the mode; for our avenue was a favourite +and very fashionable promenade. The gay world nodded and bowed +to each other; the sun streamed on satins and laces, flowers +and embroidery; elegant toilettes passed and repassed each +other, with smiling recognition; the street was a show. I +walked by Mrs. Sandford's side in my chinchilla cap, for I had +not got a straw hat yet, though it was time; thinking, — "_The +world knoweth us not_" — and carrying on the struggle in my +heart all the while. By and by we turned to come down the +avenue. + +"I want to stop a moment here on some business," said Mrs. +Sandford, as we came to Miss Cardigan's corner; "would you +like to go in with me, Daisy?" + +I was pleased, and moreover glad that it was the hour for my +companions to be out walking. I did not wish to be seen going +in at that house and to have all the questions poured on me +that would be sure to come. Moreover I was curious to see how +far Miss St. Clair's judgment would be verified. The marble +hall was undoubted; it was large and square, with a handsome +staircase going up from it; but the parlour, into which we +were ushered the next minute, crossed all my expectations. It +was furnished with dark chintz; no satin, red or blue, was +anywhere to be seen; even the curtains were chintz. The carpet +was not rich; the engravings on the walls were in wooden +frames varnished; the long mirror between the windows, for +that was there, reflected a very simple mahogany table, on +which lay a large work basket, some rolls of muslin and +flannel, work cut and uncut, shears and spools of cotton. +Another smaller table held books and papers and writing +materials. This was shoved up to the corner of the hearth, +where a fire — a real, actual fire of sticks — was softly +burning. The room was full of the sweet smell of the burning +wood. Between the two tables, in a comfortable large chair, +sat the lady we had come to see. My heart warmed at the look +of her immediately. Such a face of genial gentle benevolence; +such a healthy sweet colour in the old cheeks; such a hearty, +kind, and withal shrewd and sound, expression of eye and lip. +She was stout and dumpy in figure, rather fat; with a little +plain cap on her head and a shawl pinned round her shoulders. +Somebody who had never been known to the world of fashion. But +oh, how homely and comfortable she and her room looked! she +and her room and her cat; for a great white cat sat with her +paws doubled under her in front of the fire. + + +"My sister begged that I would call and see you, Miss +Cardigan," Mrs. Sandford began, "about a poor family named +Whittaker, that live somewhere in Ellen Street." + +"I know them. Be seated," said our hostess. "I know them well. +But I don't know this little lady." + +"A little friend of mine, Miss Cardigan; she is at school with +your neighbour opposite, — Miss Daisy Randolph." + +"If nearness made neighbourhood," said Miss Cardigan, +laughing, "Mme. Ricard and I would be neighbours; but I am +afraid the rule of the Good Samaritan would put us far apart. +Miss Daisy — do you like my cat; or would you like maybe to go +in and look at my flowers? — yes? — Step in that way, dear; +just go through that room, and on, straight through; you'll +smell them before you come to them." + +I gladly obeyed her, stepping in through the darkened middle +room where already the greeting of the distant flowers met me; +then through a third smaller room, light and bright and full +of fragrance, and to my surprise, lined with books. From this +an open glass door let me into the greenhouse, and into the +presence of the beauties I had so often looked up to from the +street. I lost myself then. Geraniums breathed over me; roses +smiled at me; a daphne at one end of the room filled the whole +place with its fragrance. Amaryllis bulbs were magnificent; +fuchsias dropped with elegance; jonquils were shy and dainty; +violets were good; hyacinths were delicious; tulips were +splendid. Over and behind all these and others, were wonderful +ferns, and heaths most delicate in their simplicity, and +myrtles most beautiful with their shining dark foliage and +starry white blossoms. I lost myself at first, and wandered +past all these new and old friends in a dream; then I waked up +to an intense feeling of homesickness. I had not been in such +a greenhouse in a long time; the geraniums and roses and +myrtles summoned me back to the years when I was a little +happy thing at Melbourne House — or summoned the images of +that time back to me. Father and mother and home — the +delights and the freedoms of those days — the carelessness, +and the care — the blessed joys of that time before I knew +Miss Pinshon, or school, and before I was perplexed with the +sorrows and the wants of the world, and before I was alone — +above all, when papa and mamma and I were _at home_. The +geraniums and the roses set me back there so sharply that I +felt it all. I had lost myself at first going into the +greenhouse; and now I had quite lost sight of everything else, +and stood gazing at the faces of the flowers with some tears +on my own, and, I suppose, a good deal of revelation of my +feeling; for I was unutterably startled by the touch of two +hands upon my shoulders and a soft whisper in my ear. "What is +it, my bairn?" + +It was Miss Cardigan's soft Scotch accent, and it was, +besides, a question of the tenderest sympathy. I looked at +her, saw the kind and strong grey eyes which were fixed on me +wistfully; and hiding my face in her bosom I sobbed aloud. + +I don't know how I came to be there, in her arms, nor how I +did anything so unlike my habit; but there I was, and it was +done, and Miss Cardigan and I were in each other's confidence. +It was only for one moment that my tears came; then I +recovered myself. + +"What sort of discourse did the flowers hold to you, little +one?" said Miss Cardigan's kind voice; while her stout person +hid all view of me that could have been had through the glass +door. + +"Papa is away," I said, forcing myself to speak, — "and mamma; +— and we used to have these flowers —" + +"Yes, yes; I know. I know very well," said my friend. "The +flowers didn't know but you were there yet. They hadn't +discretion. Mrs. Sandford wants to go, clear. — Will you come +again and see them? They will say something else next time." + +"Oh, may I?" I said. + +"Just whenever you like, and as often as you like. So I'll +expect you." + +I went home, very glad at having escaped notice from my +schoolmates, and firmly bent on accepting Miss Cardigan's +invitation at the first chance I had. I asked about her of +Mrs. Sandford in the first place; and learned that she was "a +very good sort of person; a little queer, but very kind; a +person that did a great deal of good and had plenty of money. +Not in society, of course," Mrs. Sandford added; "but I dare +say she don't miss that; and she is just as useful as if she +were." + +"Not in society." That meant, I supposed, that Miss Cardigan +would not be asked to companies where Mrs. Randolph would be +found, or Mrs. Sandford; that such people would not "know" +her, in fact. That would certainly be a loss to Miss Cardigan; +but I wondered how much? "The world knoweth us not," — the lot +of all Christ's people, — could it involve anything in itself +very bad? My old Juanita, for example, who held herself the +heir to a princely inheritance, was it any harm to her that +earthly palaces knew her only as a servant? But then, what did +not matter to Juanita or Miss Cardigan, might matter to +somebody who had been used to different things. I knew how it +had been with myself for a time past. I was puzzled. I +determined to wait and see, if I could, how much it mattered +to Miss Cardigan. + +CHAPTER XII. + +FRENCH DRESSES. + + +My new friend had given me free permission to come and see her +whenever I found myself able. Saturday afternoon we always had +to ourselves in the school; and the next Saturday found me at +Miss Cardigan's door again as soon as my friends and room- +mates were well out of my way. Miss Cardigan was not at home, +the servant said, but she would be in presently. I was just as +well pleased. I took off my cap, and carrying it in my hand I +went back through the rooms to the greenhouse. All still and +fresh and sweet, it seemed more delightful than ever, because +I knew there was nobody near. Some new flowers were out. An +azalea was in splendid beauty, and a white French rose, very +large and fair, was just blossoming, and with the red roses +and the hyacinths and the violets and the daphne and the +geraniums, made a wonderful sweet place of the little +greenhouse. I lost myself in delight again; but this time the +delight did not issue in homesickness. The flowers had another +message for me to-day. I did not heed it at first, busy with +examining and drinking in the fragrance and the loveliness +about me; but even as I looked and drank, the flowers began to +whisper to me. With their wealth of perfume, with all their +various, glorious beauty, one and another leaned towards me or +bent over me with the question — "Daisy are you afraid? — +Daisy, are you afraid? — The good God who has made us so rich, +do you think He will leave you poor? He loves you, Daisy. You +needn't be a bit afraid but that HE is enough, even if the +world does not know you. He is rich enough for you as well as +for us." + +I heard no voice, but surely I heard that whisper, plain +enough. The roses seemed to kiss me with it. The sweet azalea +repeated it. The hyacinths stood witnesses of it. The gay +tulips and amaryllis held up a banner before me on which it +was blazoned. + +I was so ashamed, and sorry, and glad, all at once, that I +fell down on my knees there, on the stone matted floor, and +gave up the world from my heart and for ever, and stretched +out my hands for the wealth that does not perish and the +blessing that has no sorrow with it. + +I was afraid to stay long on my knees; but I could hardly get +my eyes dry again, I was so glad and so sorry. I remember I +was wiping a tear or two away when Miss Cardigan came in. She +greeted me kindly. + +"There's a new rose out, did ye see it?" she said; "and this +blue hyacinth has opened its flowers. Isn't that bonny?" + +"What is _bonny_, ma'am?" I asked. + +Miss Cardigan laughed, the heartiest, sonsiest low laugh. + +"There's a many things the Lord has made bonny," she said; "I +thank Him for it. Look at these violets — they're bonny; and +this sweet red rose." She broke it off the tree and gave it to +me. "It's bad that it shames your cheeks so. What's the matter +wi' em, my bairn?" + +Miss Cardigan's soft finger touched my cheek as she spoke; and +the voice and tone of the question were so gently, tenderly +kind that it was pleasant to answer. I said I had not been +very strong. + +"Nor just well in your mind. No, no. Well, what did the +flowers say to you to-day, my dear? Eh? They told you +something?" + +"Oh, yes!" I said. + +"Did they tell you that 'the Lord is good; a stronghold in the +day of trouble; and He knoweth them that trust in Him'?" + +"Oh, yes," I said, looking up at her in surprise. "How did you +know?" + +For all answer, Miss Cardigan folded her two arms tight about +me and kissed me with earnest good will. + +"But they told me something else," I said, struggling to +command myself; — "they told me that I had _not_ 'trusted in +Him.' " + +"Ah, my bairn!" she said. "But the Lord is good." + +There was so much both of understanding and sympathy in her +tones, that I had a great deal of trouble to control myself. I +felt unspeakably happy too, that I had found a friend that +could understand. I was silent, and Miss Cardigan looked at +me. + +"Is it all right, noo?" she asked. + +"Except _me_, —" I said, with my eyes swimming. + +"Ah, well!" she said. "You've seen the sky all black and +covered with the thick clouds — that's like our sins; but, 'I +have blotted out as a thick cloud thy transgressions, and as a +cloud thy sins.' You know how it is when the wind comes and +clears the clouds off, and you can look up through the blue, +till it seems as if your eye would win into heaven itself. +Keep the sky clear, my darling, so that you can always see up +straight to God, with never the fleck of a cloud between. But +do you ken what will clear the clouds away?" + +And I looked up now with a smile and answered, " 'The precious +blood of Christ' " — for the two texts had been close together +in one of the pages of my little book not long before. + +Miss Cardigan clapped her hands together softly and laughed. +"Ye've got it!" she said. "Ye have gotten the pearl of great +price. And where did ye find it, my dear?" + +"I had a friend, that taught me in a Sunday school, four years +ago, —" I said. + +"Ah, there weren't so many Sunday schools in my day," said +Miss Cardigan. "And ye have found, maybe, that this other sort +of a school, that ye have gotten to now, isn't helpful +altogether? Is it a rough road, my bairn?" + +"It is my own fault," I said, looking at her gratefully. The +tender voice went right into my heart. + +"Well, noo, ye'll just stop and have tea with me here; and +whenever the way is rough, ye'll come over to my flowers and +rest yourself. And rest me too; it does me a world o' good to +see a young face. So take off your coat, my dear, and let us +sit down and be comfortable." + +I was afraid at first that I could not; I had no liberty to be +absent at tea-time. But Miss Cardigan assured me I should be +home in good season; the school tea was at seven, and her own +was always served at six. So very gladly, with an +inexpressible sense of freedom and peace, I took off my coat, +and gloves, and followed my kind friend back to the parlour +where her fire was burning. For although it was late in April, +the day was cool and raw; and the fire one saw nowhere else +was delightful in Miss Cardigan's parlour. + +Every minute of that afternoon was as bright as the fire glow. +I sat in the midst of that, on an ottoman, and Miss Cardigan, +busy between her two tables, made me very much interested in +her story of some distressed families for whom she was +working. She asked me very little about my own affairs; +nothing that the most delicate good breeding did not warrant; +but she found out that my father and mother were at a great +distance from me and I almost alone, and she gave me the +freedom of her house. I was to come there whenever I could and +liked; whenever I wanted to "rest my feet", as she said; +especially I might spend as much of every Sunday with her as I +could get leave for. And she made this first afternoon so +pleasant to me with her gentle beguiling talk, that the +permission to come often was like the entrance into a whole +world of comfort. She had plenty to talk about; plenty to +tell, of the poor people to whom she and others were +ministering; of plans and methods to do them good; all which +somehow she made exceedingly interesting. There was just a +little accent to her words, which made them, in their +peculiarity, all the more sweet to me; but she spoke good +English; the "noo" which slipped out now and then, with one or +two other like words, came only, I found, at times when the +fountain of feeling was more full than ordinary, and so flowed +over into the disused old channel. And her face was so fresh, +rosy, round and sweet, withal strong and sound, that it was a +perpetual pleasure to me. + +As she told her stories of New York needy and suffering, I +mentally added my poor people at Magnolia, and began to wonder +with myself, was all the world so? Were these two spots but +samples of the whole? I got into a brown study, and was waked +out of it by Miss Cardigan's "What is it, my dear?" + +"Ma'am?" I said. + +"Ye are studying some deep question," she said, smiling. +"Maybe it's too big for you." + +"So it is," said I, sighing. "Is it so everywhere, Miss +Cardigan?" + +"So how, my bairn?" + +"Is there so much trouble everywhere in the world?" + +Her face clouded over. + +"Jesus said, 'The poor ye have always with you, and whensoever +ye will ye may do them good.' " + +"But that is what I don't understand about," I said. "_How much_ +ought one to do, Miss Cardigan?" + +There came a ray of infinite brightness over her features; I +can hardly describe it; it was warm with love, and bright with +pleasure, and — I thought sparkled with a little amusement. + +"Have you thought upon that?" she said. + +"Yes," I said, — "very much." + +"It is a great question!" she said, her face becoming grave +again. + +"I know," I said, "of course one ought to do all one can. But +what I want to know is, how much one _can_. How much ought one +to spend for such things?" + +"It's a great question," Miss Cardigan repeated, more gravely +than before. "For when the King comes, to take account of His +servants, He will want to know what we have done with every +penny. Be sure, He will." + +"Then how can one tell?" said I, hoping earnestly that now I +was going to get some help in my troubles. "How can one know? +It is very difficult." + +"I'll no say it's not difficult," said Miss Cardigan, whose +thoughts seemed to have gone into the recesses of her own +mind. "Dear, it's nigh our tea-time. Let us go in." + +I followed her, much disappointed, and feeling that if she +passed the subject by so, I could not bring it up again. We +went through to the inner room; the same from which the glass +door opened to the flowers. Here a small table was now spread. +This room was cosy. I had hardly seen it before. Low bookcases +lined it on every side; and above the bookcases hung maps; +maps of the city and of various parts of the world where +missionary stations were established. Along with the maps, a +few engravings and fine photographs. I remember one of the +Colosseum, which I used to study; and a very beautiful +engraving of Jerusalem. But the one that fixed my eyes this +first evening, perhaps because Miss Cardigan placed me in +front of it, was a picture of another sort. It was a good +photograph, and had beauty enough besides to hold my eyes. It +showed a group of three or four. A boy and girl in front, +handsome, careless, and well-to-do, passing along, with +wandering eyes. Behind them and disconnected from them by her +dress and expression, a tall woman in black robes with a baby +on her breast. The hand of the woman was stretched out with a +coin which she was about dropping into an iron-bound coffer +which stood at the side of the picture. It was "the widow's +mite;" and her face, wan, sad, sweet, yet loving and longing, +told the story. The two coin were going into the box with all +her heart. + +"You know what it is?" said my hostess. + +"I see, ma'am," I replied; "it is written under." + +"That box is the Lord's treasury." + +"Yes, ma'am," I said, — "I know." + +"Do you remember how much that woman gave?" + +"Two mites," — I said. + +"It was something more than that," said my hostess. "It was +more than anybody else gave that day. Don't you recollect? It +was _all her living_." + +I looked at Miss Cardigan, and she looked at me. Then my eyes +went back to the picture, and to the sad yet sweet and most +loving face of the poor woman there. + +"Ma'am," said I, "do you think people that are _rich_ ought to +give all they have?" + +"I only know, my Lord was pleased with her," said Miss +Cardigan softly; "and I always think I should like to have Him +pleased with me too." + +I was silent, looking at the picture and thinking. + +"You know what made that poor widow give her two mites?" Miss +Cardigan asked presently. + +"I suppose she wanted to give them," I said. + +"Ay," said my hostess, turning away, — "she loved the Lord's +glory beyond her own comfort. Come, my love, and let us have +some tea. She gave all she had, Miss Daisy, and the Lord liked +it; do ye think you and me can do less?" + +"But that is what I do not understand," I said, following Miss +Cardigan to the little tea-table, and watching with great +comfort the bright unruffled face which promised to be such a +help to me. + +"Now you'll sit down there," said my hostess, "where you can +see my flowers while I can see you. It's poor work eating, if +we cannot look at something or hear something at the same +time; and maybe we'll do the two things. And ye'll have a bit +of honey — here it is. And Lotty will bring us up a bit of hot +toast — or is the bread better, my dear? Now ye're at home; +and maybe you'll come over and drink tea with me whenever you +can run away from over there. I'll have Lotty set a place for +you. And then, when ye think of the empty place, you will know +you had better come over and fill it. See — you could bring +your study book and study here in this quiet little corner by +the flowers." + +I gave my very glad thanks. I knew I could often do this. + +"And now for the 'not understanding,' " said Miss Cardigan, +when tea was half over. "How was it, my dear?" + +"I have been puzzled," I said, "about giving — how much one +ought to give, and how much one ought to spend — I mean, for +oneself." + +"Well," said Miss Cardigan brightly, "we have fixed that. The +poor woman gave _all her living_." + +"But one must spend some money for oneself," I said. "One must +have bonnets and cloaks and dresses." + +"And houses, and books, and pictures," said Miss Cardigan, +looking around her. "My lamb, let us go to the Bible again. +That says, 'whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do +all to the glory of God.' So I suppose we must buy cloaks and +bonnets on the same principle." + +I turned this over in mind. Had I done this, when I was +choosing my chinchilla cap and grey cloak? A little ray of +infinite brightness began to steal in upon their quiet colours +and despised forms. + +"If the rich are to give their all, as well as the poor, it +doesn't say — mind you — that they are to give it all to the +hungry, or all to the destitute; but only, they are to give it +all _to Christ_. Then, he will tell them what to do with it; do +ye understand, my dear?" + +Miss Cardigan's eye was watching me, not more kindly than +keen. A wise and clear grey eye it was. + +"But isn't it difficult to know sometimes what to do?" I said. +"I have been so puzzled to know about dresses. Mamma is away, +and I had to decide." + +"It's no very difficult," said Miss Cardigan, — "if once ye +set your face in the right _airth_ — as we speak. My dear, +there's a great many sorts of dresses and bonnets and things; +and I'd always buy just that bonnet and that gown, in which I +thought I could do most work for my Master; and that wouldn't +be the same sort of bonnet for you and for me," she said with +a merry smile. "Now ye'll have another cup of tea, and ye'll +tell me if my tea's good." + +It was wonderfully good to me. I felt like a plant dried up +for want of water, suddenly set in a spring shower. +Refreshment was all around me, without and within. The faces +of the flowers looked at me through the glass, and the sweet +breath of them came from the open door. The room where I was +sitting pleased me mightily, in its comfortable and pretty +simplicity; and I had found a friend, even better than my old +Maria and Darry at Magnolia. It was not very long before I +told all about these to my new counsellor. + +For the friendship between us ripened and grew. I often found +a chance to fill my place at the dear little tea-table. +Sundays I could always be there; and I went there straight +from afternoon church, and rested among Miss Cardigan's books +and in her sweet society and in the happy freedom and rest of +her house, with an intensity of enjoyment which words can but +feebly tell. So in time I came to tell her all my troubles and +the perplexities which had filled me; I was willing to talk to +Miss Cardigan about things that I would have breathed to no +other ear upon earth. She was so removed from all the sphere +of my past or present life, so utterly disconnected from all +the persons and things with which I had had to do, it was like +telling about them to a being of another planet. Yet she was +not so removed but that her sympathies and her judgment could +be living and full grown for my help; all ready to take hold +of the facts and to enter into the circumstances, and to give +me precious comfort and counsel. Miss Cardigan and I came to +be very dear to each other. + +All this took time. Nobody noticed at first, or seemed to +notice, my visits to the "house with the flowers," as the +girls called it. I believe, in my plain dress, I was not +thought of importance enough to be watched. I went and came +very comfortably; and the weeks that remained before the +summer vacation slipped away ill quiet order. + +Just before the vacation, my aunt came home from Europe. With +her came the end of my obscurity. She brought me, from my +mother, a great supply of all sorts of pretty French dresses, +hats, gloves, and varieties. — Chosen by my mother; — as +pretty and elegant, and simple too, as they could be; but once +putting them on, I could never be unnoticed by my schoolmates +any more. I knew it, with a certain feeling that was not +displeasure. Was it pride? Was it anything more than my +pleasure in all pretty things? I thought it was something +more. And I determined that I would not put on any of them +till school was broken up. If it _was_ pride, I was ashamed of +it. But besides French dresses, my aunt brought me a better +thing; a promise from my father. + +"He said I was to tell you, Daisy my dear, — and I hope you +will be a good child and take it as you ought, — but dear me! +how she is growing," said Mrs. Gary, turning to Mme. Ricard; +"I cannot talk about Daisy as a 'child' much longer. She's +tall." + +"Not too tall," said Madame. + +"No, but she is going to be tall. She has a right; her mother +is tall, and her father. Daisy, my dear, I do believe you are +going to look like your mother. You'll be very handsome if you +do. And yet, you look different —" + +"Miss Randolph will not shame anybody belonging to her," said +Mme. Ricard, graciously. + +"Well, I suppose not," said my aunt. "I was going to tell you +what your father said, Daisy. He said — you know it takes a +long while to get to China and back, and if it does him good +he will stay a little while there; and then there's the return +voyage, and there may be delays; so altogether it was +impossible to say exactly how long he and your mother will be +gone. I mean, it was impossible to know certainly that they +would be able to come home by next summer; indeed I doubt if +your father ever does come home." + +I waited, in silence. + +"So altogether," my aunt went on, turning for a moment to Mme. +Ricard, "there was a doubt about it; and your father said, he +charged me to tell Daisy, that if she will make herself +contented — that is, supposing they cannot come home next +year, you know, — if she will make herself happy and be +patient and bear one or two years more, and stay at school and +do the best she can, then, the year after next or the next +year, he will send for you, your father says, unless they come +home themselves, — they will send, for you; and then, your +father says, he will give you any request you like to make of +him. Ask anything you can think of, that you would like best, +and he will do it or get it, whatever it is. He didn't say +like king Herod, 'to the half of his kingdom,' but I suppose +he meant that. And meanwhile, you know you have a guardian +now, Daisy, and there is no use for me in your affairs; and +having conveyed to you your mother's gifts and your father's +promises, I suppose there is nothing further for me to do." + + +I was silent yet, thinking. Two years more would be a dear +purchase of any pleasure that might come after. Two years! And +four were gone already. It seemed impossible to wait or to +bear it. I heard no more of what my aunt was saying, till she +turned to me again and asked, — + +"Where are you going to pass the vacation?" + +I did not know, for Mrs. Sandford was obliged to be with her +sister still, so that I could not go to Melbourne. + +"Well, if your new guardian thinks well of it — you can +consult him if it is necessary — and if he does not object, +you can be with me if you like. Preston has leave of absence +this summer, I believe; and he will be with us." + +It was in effect arranged so. My aunt took me about the +country from one watering place to another; from Saratoga to +the White Mountains; and Preston's being with us made it a gay +time. Preston had been for two years at West Point; he was +grown and improved everybody said; but to me he was just the +same. If anything, _not_ improved; the old grace and +graciousness of his manner was edged with an occasional +hardness or abruptness which did not use to belong to him; and +which I did not understand. There seemed to be a latent cause +of irritation somewhere. + +However, my summer went off smoothly enough. September brought +me back to Mme. Ricard's, and in view of Miss Cardigan's late +roses and budding chrysanthemums. I was not sorry. I had set +my heart on doing as much as could be done in these next two +years, if two they must be. + +I was the first in my room; but before the end of the day they +all came pouring in; the two older and the two younger girls. +"Here's somebody already," exclaimed Miss Macy as she saw me. +"Why, Daisy Randolph! is it possible that's you? Is it Daisy +Randolph? what have you done to yourself? How you _have_ +improved!" + +"She is very much improved," said Miss Bentley more soberly. + +"She has been learning the fashions," said Miss Lansing, her +bright eyes dancing as good-humouredly as ever. "Daisy, now +when your hair gets long you'll look quite nice. That frock is +made very well." + +"She is changed —" said Miss St. Clair, with a look I could +not quite make out. + +"No," I said, — "I hope I am not changed." + +"Your dress is," said St. Clair. + +I thought of Dr. Sandford's "_L'habit c'est l'homme_." "My +mother had this dress made," I said; "and I ordered the other +one; that is all the difference." + +"You're on the right side of the difference, then," said Miss +St. Clair. + +"Has your mother come back, Daisy?" Miss Lansing asked. + +"Not yet. She sent me this from Paris." + +"It's very pretty!" she said; with, I saw, an increase of +admiration; but St. Clair gave me another strange look. "How +much prettier Paris things are than American!" Lansing went +on. "I wish I could have all my dresses from Paris. Why, +Daisy, you've grown handsome." + +"Nonsense!" said Miss Macy; "she always was, only you didn't +see it." + +"Style is more than a face," remarked Miss St. Clair +cavalierly. Somehow I felt that this little lady was not in a +good mood towards me. I boded mischief; for being nearly of an +age, we were together in most of our classes, studied the same +things and recited at the same times. There was an opportunity +for clashing. + +They soon ran off, all four, to see their friends and +acquaintances and learn the news of the school. I was left +alone, making my arrangement of clothes and things in my +drawer and my corner of the closet; and I found that some +disturbance, in those few moments, had quite disarranged the +thoughts in my heart. They were peaceful enough before. There +was some confusion now. I could not at first tell what was +uppermost; only that St. Clair's words were those that most +returned to me. "She has changed. "_Had_ I changed? or was I +going to change? was I going to enter the lists of fashion +with my young companions, and try who would win the race? No +doubt my mother could dress me better than almost any of their +mothers could dress them; what then? would this be a triumph? +or was this the sort of name and notoriety that became and +befitted a servant of Jesus? I could not help my dresses being +pretty; no, but I could help making much display of them. I +could wear my own school plaid when the weather grew cooler; +and one or two others of my wardrobe were all I need show. +"Style is more than a face." No doubt. What _then?_ Did I want +style and a face too? Was I wishing to confound St. Clair? Was +I escaping already from that bond and mark of a Christian, — +"The world knoweth us not"? I was startled and afraid. I fell +down on my knees by the side of my bed, and tried to look at +the matter as God looked at it. And the Daisy I thought He +would be pleased with, was one who ran no race for worldly +supremacy. I resolved she should not. The praise of God, I +thought, was far better than the praise of men. + +My mind was quite made up when I rose from my knees; but I +looked forward to a less quiet school term than the last had +been. Something told me that the rest of the girls would take +me up now, for good and for evil. My Paris dress set me in a +new position, no longer beneath their notice. I was an object +of attention. Even that first evening I felt the difference. + +"Daisy, when is your mother coming home?" — "Oh, she is gone +to China; Daisy's mother is gone to China!" — "She'll bring +you lots of queer things, won't she?" — "What a sweet dress!" +— "_That_ didn't come from China?" — "Daisy, who's head in +mathematics, you or St. Clair? I hope you will get before +her!" + +"Why?" I ventured to ask. + +"Oh, you're the best of the two; everybody knows that. But St. +Clair is smart, isn't she?" + +"She thinks she is," answered another speaker; "she believes +she's at the tip top of creation; but she never had such a +pretty dress on as that in her days; and she knows it and she +don't like it. It's real fun to see St. Clair beat! she thinks +she is so much better than other girls, and she has such a way +of twisting that upper lip of hers. Do you know how St. Clair +twists her upper lip? Look! — she's doing it now." + +"She's handsome though, aint she?" said Miss Macy. "She'll be +beautiful." + +"No," said Mlle. Genevieve; "not that. Never that. She will be +handsome; but beauty is a thing of the soul. She will not be +beautiful. Daisy, are you going to work hard this year?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle." + +"I believe you," she said, taking my face between her two +hands and kissing it. + +"Who ever saw Mlle. Genevieve do that before!" said Miss Macy, +as the other left us. "She is not apt to like the scholars." + +I knew she had always liked me. But everybody had always liked +me, I reflected; this time at school was the first of my +knowing anything different. And in this there now came a +change. Since my wearing and using the Paris things sent me by +my mother, which I dared not fail to use and wear, I noticed +that my company was more sought in the school. Also my words +were deferred to, in a way they had not been before. I found, +and it was lot an unpleasant thing, that I had grown to be a +person of consequence. Even with the French and English +teachers; I observed that they treated me with more +consideration. And so, I reflected within myself again over +Dr. Sandford's observation, "_L'habit, c'est l'homme_." Of +course, it was a consideration given to my clothes, a +consideration also to be given up if I did not wear such +clothes. I saw all that. The world _knew me_, just for the +moment. + +Well, the smooth way was very pleasant. I had it with +everybody for a time. + +My little room-mate and classmate St. Clair was perhaps the +only exception to the general rule. I never felt that she +liked me much. She let me alone, however; until one unlucky +day — I do not mean to call it unlucky, either — when we had, +as usual, compositions to write, and the theme given out was +"Ruins." It was a delightful theme to me. I did not always +enjoy writing compositions; this one gave me permission to +roam in thoughts and imaginations that I liked. I went back to +my old Egyptian studies at Magnolia, and wrote my composition +about "Karnak." The subject was full in my memory; I had gone +over and over and all through it; I had measured the enormous +pillars and great gateways, and studied the sculptures on the +walls, and paced up and down the great avenue of sphinxes. +Sethos, and Amunoph and Rameses, the second and third, were +all known and familiar to me; and I knew just where Shishak +had recorded his triumphs over the land of Judea. I wrote my +composition with the greatest delight. The only danger was +that I might make it too long. + +One evening I was using the last of the light, writing in the +window recess of the school parlour, when I felt a hand laid +on my shoulders. + +"You are so hard at work!" said the voice of Mlle. Genevieve. + +"Yes, mademoiselle, I like it." + +"Have you got all the books and all that you want?" + +"Books, mademoiselle?" — I said, wondering. + +"Yes; have you got all you want?" + +"I have not got any books," I said; "there are none that I +want in the school library." + +"Have you never been in Madame's library?" + +"No, mademoiselle." + +"Come!" + +I jumped up and followed her, up and down stairs and through +halls and turnings, till she brought me into a pretty room +lined with books from floor to ceiling. Nobody was there. +Mademoiselle lit the gas with great energy, and then turned to +me, her great black eyes shining. + +"Now what do you want, _mon enfant?_ here is everything." + +"Is there anything about Egypt?" + +"Egypt! Are you in Egypt? — See here — look, here is Denon — +here is Laborde; here is two or three more. Do you like that? +Ah! I see by the way your grey eyes grow big. — Now sit down, +and do what you like. Nobody will disturb you. You can come +here every evening for the hour before tea." + +Mademoiselle scarce staid for my thanks, and left me alone. I +had not seen either Laborde or Denon in my grandfather's +library at Magnolia; they were after his time. The engravings +and illustrations also had not been very many or very fine in +his collection of travellers' books. It was the greatest joy +to me to see some of those things in Mme. Ricard's library, +that I had read and dreamed about so long in my head. It was +adding eyesight to hearsay. I found a good deal too that I +wanted to read, in these later authorities. Evening after +evening I was in Madame's library, lost among the halls of the +old Egyptian conquerors. + +The interest and delight of my work quite filled me, so that +the fate of my composition hardly came into my thoughts, or +the fact that other people were writing compositions too. And +when it was done, I was simply very sorry that it was done. I +had not written it for honour or for duty, but for love. I +suppose that was the reason why it succeeded. I remember I was +anything but satisfied with it myself, as I was reading it +aloud for the benefit of my judges. For it was a day of prize +compositions; and before the whole school and even some +visitors, the writings of the girls were given aloud, each by +its author. I thought, as I read mine, how poor it was, and +how magnificent my subject demanded that it should be. Under +the shade of the great columns, before those fine old +sphinxes, my words and myself seemed very small. I sat down in +my place again, glad that the reading was over. + +But there was a little buzz; then a dead expectant silence; +then Mme. Ricard arose. My composition had been the last one. +I looked up, with the rest, to hear the award that she would +speak; and was at first very much confounded to hear my own +name called. "Miss Randolph —" It did not occur to me what it +was spoken for; I sat still a moment in a maze. Mme. Ricard +stood waiting; all the room was in a hush. + +"Don't you hear yourself called?" said a voice behind me. "Why +don't you go?" + +I looked round at Miss Macy, who was my adviser, then +doubtfully I looked away from her and caught the eyes of Mlle. +Genevieve. She nodded and beckoned me to come forward. I did +it hastily then, and found myself curtseying in front of the +platform where stood Madame. + +"The prize is yours, Miss Randolph," she said graciously. +"Your paper is approved by all the judges." + +"Quite artistic," — I heard a gentleman say at her elbow. "And +it shows an amount of thorough study and perfect preparation, +which I can but hold up as a model to all my young ladies. You +deserve this, my dear." + +I was confounded; and a low curtsey was only a natural relief +to my feelings. But Madame unhappily took it otherwise. + +"This is yours," she said, putting into my hands an elegant +little bronze standish; — "and if I had another prize to +bestow for grace of good manners, I am sure I would have the +pleasure of giving you that too." + +I bent again before Madame, and got back to my seat as I +could. The great business of the day was over, and we soon +scattered to our rooms. And I had not been in mine five +minutes before the penalties of being distinguished began to +come upon me. + +"Well, Daisy! —" said Miss Lansing — "you've got it. How +pretty! Isn't it, Macy?" + +"It isn't a bit prettier than it ought to be, for a prize in +such a school," said Miss Macy. "It will do." + +"I've seen handsomer prizes," said Miss Bentley. + +"But you've got it, more ways than one, Daisy," Miss Lansing +went on. "I declare! Aren't you a distinguished young lady! +Madame, too! Why, we all used to think we behaved pretty well +_before company_, — didn't we, St. Clair?" + +"I hate favour and favouritism!" said that young lady, her +upper lip taking the peculiar turn to which my attention had +once been called. "Madame likes whatever is French." + +"But Randolph is not French, are you, Randolph ?" said Black- +eyes, who was good-natured through everything. + +"Madame is not French herself," said Miss Bentley. + +"I hate everything at school!" St. Clair went on. + +"It is too bad," said her friend. "Do you know, Daisy, St. +Clair always has the prize for compositions. What made you go +and write that long stuff about Rameses? the people didn't +understand it, and so they thought it was fine." + +"I am sure there was a great deal finer writing in Faustina's +composition," said Miss Bentley. + +I knew very well that Miss St. Clair had been accustomed to +win this half yearly prize for good writing. I had expected +nothing but that she would win it this time. I had counted +neither o n my own success nor on the displeasure it would +raise. I took my hat and went over to my dear Miss Cardigan; +hoping that ill-humour would have worked itself out by +bedtime. But I was mistaken. + +St. Clair and I had been pretty near each other in our +classes, though once or twice lately I had got an advantage +over her; but we had kept on terms of cool social distance +until now. Now the spirit of rivalry was awake. I think it +began to stir at my Paris dresses and things; Karnak and Mme. +Ricard finished the mischief. + +On my first coming to school I had been tempted, in my horror +at the utter want of privacy, to go to bed without prayer; +waiting till the rest were all laid down and asleep and the +lights out, and then slipping out of bed with great care not +to make a noise, and watching that no whisper of my lips +should be loud enough to disturb anybody's slumbers. But I was +sure, after a while, that this was a cowardly way of doing; +and I could not bear the words, "Whosoever shall be ashamed of +Me, and of My words, of him shall the Son of man be ashamed, +when He cometh in the glory of His Father." I determined in +the vacation that I would do so no more, cost what it might +the contrary. It cost a tremendous struggle. I think, in all +my life I have done few harder things, than it was to me then +to kneel down by the side of my bed in full blaze of the +gaslights and with four curious pairs of eyes around to look +on; to say nothing of the four busy tongues wagging about +nothing all the time. I remember what a hush fell upon them +the first night; while beyond the posture of prayer I could do +little. Only unformed or half formed thoughts and petitions +struggled in my mind, through a crowd of jostling regrets and +wishes and confusions, in which I could hardly distinguish +anything. But no explosion followed, of either ridicule or +amusement, and I had been suffered from that night to do as I +would, not certainly always in silence, but quite unmolested. + +I had carried over my standish to Miss Cardigan to ask her to +take care of it for me; I had no place to keep it. But Miss +Cardigan was not satisfied to see the prize; she wanted to +hear the essay read; and was altogether so elated that a +little undue elation perhaps crept into my own heart. It was +not a good preparation for what was coming. + +I went home in good time. In the hall, however, Mlle. +Genevieve seized upon me; she had several things to say, and +before I got up stairs to my room all the rest of its inmates +were in bed. I hoped they were asleep. I heard no sound while +I was undressing, nor while I knelt, as usual now, by my +bedside. But as I rose from my knees I was startled by a sort +of grunt that came from St. Clair's corner. + +"Humph! — Dear me! We're so good, — Grace and Devotion, — +Christian grace, too!" + +"Hold your tongue, St. Clair," said Miss Macy, but not in a +way, I thought, to check her; if she could have been checked. + +"But it's too bad, Macy," said the girl. "We're all so rough, +you know. We don't know how to behave ourselves; we can't make +curtsies; our mothers never taught us anything, — and dancing +masters are no good. We ought to go to Egypt. There isn't +anything so truly dignified as a pyramid. There is a great +deal of _à plomb_ there!" + +"Who talked about _à plomb_?" said Miss Bentley. + +"You have enough of that, at any rate, Faustina," said +Lansing. + +"Mrs. St. Clair's child ought to have that," said Miss Macy. + +"Ah, but it isn't Christian grace, after all," persisted +Faustina. "You want a cross at the top of a pyramid to make it +perfect." + +"Hush, Faustina!" said Miss Macy. + +"It's fair," said Miss Bentley. + +"You had better not talk about Christian grace, girls. That +isn't a matter of opinion." + +"Oh, isn't it!" cried St. Clair, half rising up in her bed. +"What is it, then?" + +Nobody answered. + +"I say! — Macy, what _is_ Christian grace — if you know? If you +_don't_ know, I'll put you in the way to find out." + +"How shall I find out?" + +"Will you do it, if I show it to you?" + +"Yes." + +"Ask Randolph. That's the first step. Ask her, — yes! just ask +her, if you want to know. I wish Mme. Ricard was here to hear +the answer." + +"Nonsense!" said Macy. + +"Ask her! You said you would. Now ask her." + +"What _is_ Christian grace, Daisy?" said Miss Bentley. + +I heard, but I would not answer. I hoped the storm would blow +over, after a puff or two. But Black-eyes, without any ill- +nature, I think, which was not in her, had got into the gale. +She slipped out of bed and came to my side, putting her hand +on my shoulder and bringing her laughing mouth down near my +ear. A very angry impulse moved me before she spoke. + +"Daisy!" — she said, laughing, in a loud whisper, — "come, +wake up! You're not asleep, you know. Wake up and tell us; — +everybody knows _you_ know; — what _is_ Christian grace? Daisy! —" + +She shook me a little. + +"If you knew, you would not ask me," — I said in great +displeasure. But a delighted shout from all my room-mates +answered this unlucky speech, which I had been too excited to +make logical. + +"Capital!" cried St. Clair. "That's just it — we _don't_ know; +and we only want to find out whether she a does. Make her +tell, Lansing — prick a little pin into her — that will bring +it out." + +I was struggling between anger and sorrow, feeling very hurt, +and at the same time determined not to cry. I kept absolutely +still, fighting the fight of silence with myself. Then +Lansing, in a fit of thoughtless mischief, finding her shakes +and questions vain, actually put in practice St. Clair's +suggestion and attacked me with a pin from the dressing table. +The first prick of it overthrew the last remnant of my +patience. + +"Miss Lansing!" — I exclaimed, rousing up in bed and +confronting her. They all shouted again. + +"Now we'll have it!" cried St. Clair. "Keep cool, Black-eyes; +let's hear — we'll have an exposition now. Theme, Christian +grace." + +Ah, there rushed through my heart with her words a remembrance +of other words — a fluttering vision of something "gentle and +easy to be entreated" — "first pure, then peaceable" — +"gentleness, goodness, meekness." — But the grip of passion +held them all down or kept them all back. After St. Clair's +first burst, the girls were still and waited for what I would +say. I was facing Miss Lansing, who had taken her hand from my +shoulder. + +"Are you not ashamed of yourself?" I said; and I remember I +thought how my mother would have spoken to them. "Miss +Lansing's good nature" — I went on slowly, — "Miss Macy's +kindness — Miss Bentley's independence — and Miss St. Clair's +good breeding!" — + +"_And_ Miss Randolph's religion!" echoed the last-named, with a +quiet distinctness which went into my heart. + +"What about my independence?" said Miss Bentley. + +"Now we've got enough, girls, — lie down and go to sleep," +said Miss Macy. "There's quite enough of this. There was too +much before we began. Stop where you are." + +They did not stop, however, without a good deal of noisy +chaffing and arguing, none of which I heard. Only the words, +"Miss Randolph's religion," rung in my ears. I lay down with +them lying like lead on my heart. I went to sleep under them. +I woke up early, while all the rest were asleep, and began to +study them. + +"Miss Randolph's religion!" If it had been only that, only +mine. But the religion I professed was the religion of Christ; +the name I was called by was His name; the thing I had brought +into discredit was His truth. I hope in all my life I may +never know again the heart-pangs that this thought cost me. I +studied how to undo the mischief I had done. I could find no +way. I had seemed to prove my religion an unsteady, +superficial thing; the evidence I had given I could not +withdraw; it must stand. I lay thinking, with the heartache, +until the rousing bell rang, and the sleepers began to stir +from their slumbers. I got up and began, to dress with the +rest. + +"What was it all that happened last night?" said Miss Lansing. + +"Advancement in knowledge," — said. Miss St. Clair. + +"Now, girls — don't begin again," said Miss Macy. + +"Knowledge is a good thing," said the other, with pins in her +mouth. "I intend to take every opportunity that offers of +increasing mine; especially I mean to study Egyptians and +Christians. I haven't any Christians among my own family or +acquaintance — so you see, naturally, Macy, I am curious; and +when a good specimen offers —" + +"I am not a good specimen," I said. + +"People are not good judges of themselves, it is said," the +girl went on. "Everybody considers Miss Randolph a sample of +what that article ought to be." + +"You don't use the word right," remarked Miss Macy. "A _sample_ +is taken from what is, — not from what ought to be." + +"I don't care," was St. Clair's reply. + +"I did not behave like a Christian last night," I forced +myself to say. "I was impatient." + +"Like an impatient Christian then, I suppose," said St. Clair. + +I felt myself getting impatient again, with all my sorrow and +humiliation of heart. And yet more humbled at the +consciousness, I hastened to get out of the room. It was a +miserable day, that day of my first school triumphs, and so +were several more that followed. I was very busy; I had no +time for recollection and prayer; I was in the midst of +gratulations and plaudits from my companions and the teachers; +and I missed, Oh how I missed, the praise of God. I felt like +a traitor. In the heat of the fight, I had let my colours come +to the ground. I had dishonoured my Captain. Some would say it +was a little thing; but I felt then and I know now, there are +no little things; I knew I had done harm; how much, it was +utterly beyond my reach to know. + +As soon as I could I seized an opportunity to get to Miss +Cardigan. I found her among her flowers, nipping off here a +leaf and there a flower that had passed its time; so busy, +that for a few moments she did not see that I was different +from usual. Then came the question which I had been looking +for. + +"Daisy, you are not right to-day?" + +"I haven't been right since I got that standish," I burst +forth. + +Miss Cardigan looked at me again, and then did what I had not +expected; she took my head between her two hands and kissed +me. Not loosing her hold, she looked into my face. + +"What is it, my pet?" + +"Miss Cardigan," I said, "can any one be a Christian and yet — +yet —" + +"Do something unworthy a Christian?" she said. "I wot well, +they can! But then, they are weak Christians." + +I knew that before. But somehow, hearing her say it brought +the shame and the sorrow more fresh to the surface. The tears +came. Miss Cardigan pulled me into the next room and sat down, +drawing me into her arms; and I wept there with her arms about +me. + +"What then, Daisy?" she asked at length, as if the suspense +pained her. + +"I acted so, Miss Cardigan," I said; and I told her about it. + +"So the devil has found a weak spot in your armour," she said. +"You must guard it well, Daisy." + +"How can I?" + +"How can you? Keep your shield before it, my bairn. What is +your shield for? The Lord has given you a great strong shield, +big enough to cover you from head to foot, if your hands know +how to manage it." + +"What is that, Miss Cardigan?" + +"The shield of _faith_, dear. Only believe. According to your +faith be it unto you." + +"Believe what?" I asked, lifting my head at last. + +"Believe that if you are a weak little soldier, your Captain +knows all about it; and any fight that you go into for his +sake, he will bear you through. I don't care what. Any fight, +Daisy." + +"But I got impatient," I said, "at the girls' way of talking." + +"And perhaps you were a wee bit set up in your heart because +you had got the prize of the day." + +"_Proud?_" said I. + +"Don't it look like it? Even proud of being a Christian, +mayhap." + +"Could I!" — I said. "Was I?" + +"It wouldn't be the first time one with as little cause had +got puffed up a bit. But heavenly charity 'is not puffed up.' " + +"I know that," — I said; and my tears started afresh. + +"How shall I help it in future?" I asked after a while, during +which my friend had been silent. + +"Help it?" she said cheerfully. "You can't help it, — but +Jesus can." + +"But my impatience, and — my pride," I said, very downcast. + +" 'Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I fall I shall +arise.' But there is no need you should fall, Daisy. Remember, +'The Lord is able to make him stand' — may be said of every +one of the Lord's people." + +"But will He keep me from impatience, and take pride out of my +heart? Why, I did not know it was there, Miss Cardigan." + +"Did He say, 'Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, I will do +it?' And when He has written 'Whatsoever,' are you going to +write it over and put 'anything not too hard'? Neither you nor +me, Daisy!" + +" '_Whatsoever_' — Miss Cardigan?" I said slowly. + +"He said so. Are you going to write it over again?" + +"No," I said. "But then, may one have _anything_ one asks for?" + +"Anything in the world — if it is not contrary to His will — +provided we ask in faith, nothing doubting. 'For he that +wavereth is like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and +tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive +anything of the Lord.' " + +"But how can we _know_ what is according to His will?" + +"_This_ is, at any rate," said Miss Cardigan; "for He has +commanded us to be holy as He is holy." + +"But — other things?" I said. "How can one for everything 'in +faith, nothing wavering'? How can one be sure?" + +"Only just this one way, Daisy my dear," Miss Cardigan +answered; — and I remember to this day the accent of her +native land which touched every word. "If ye're wholly the +Lord's — wholly, mind, — ye'll not like aught but what the +Lord likes; ye'll know what to ask for, and ye'll know the +Lord will give it to you; — that is, if ye want it _enough_. But +a 'double-minded man is unstable in all his ways;' and his +prayers can't hit the mark, no more than a gun that's twisted +when it's going off." + +"Then," — I began and stopped, looking at her with my eyes +full of tears. + +"Ay!" she said, — "just so. There's no need that you nor me +should be under the power of the evil one, for we're _free_. The +Lord's words aren't too good to be true; every one of 'em is +as high as heaven; and there isn't a sin nor an enemy but you +and I may be safe from, if we trust the Lord." + +I do not remember any more of the conversation. I only know +that the sun rose on my difficulties, and the shadows melted +away. I had a happy evening with my dear old friend, and went +home quite heart-whole. + +CHAPTER XIII. + +GREY COATS. + + +I went back to school comforted. I had got strength to face +all that might be coming in the future. And life has been a +different thing to me ever since. Paul's words, "I can do all +things through Christ," — I have learned are not his words any +more than mine. + +From that time I grew more and more popular in the school. I +cannot tell why; but, popularity is a thing that grows upon +its own growth. It was only a little while before my +companions almost all made a pet of me. It is humbling to know +that this effect was hastened by some of the French dresses my +mother had sent me, and which convenience obliged me to wear. +They were extremely pretty; the girls came round me to know +where I got them, and talked about who I was; and "Daisy +Randolph," was the name most favoured by their lips from that +time until school closed. — With the exception, I must add, of +my four room-mates. Miss St. Clair held herself entirely aloof +from me, and the others chose her party rather than mine. St. +Clair never lost, I think, any good chance or omitted any fair +scheme to provoke me; but all she could do had lost its power. +I tried to soften her; but Faustina was a rock to my advances. +I knew I had done irreparable wrong that evening; the thought +of it was almost the only trouble I had during those months. + +An old trouble was brought suddenly home to me one day. I was +told a person wanted to speak to me in the lower hall. I ran +down, and found Margaret. She was in the cloak and dress I had +bought for her; looking at first very gleeful, and then very +business-like, as she brought out from under her cloak a bit +of paper folded with something in it. + +"What is this?" I said, finding a roll of bills. + +"It's my wages, Miss Daisy. I only kept out two dollars, ma'am +— I wanted a pair of shoes so bad — and I couldn't be let go +about the house in them old shoes with holes in 'em; there was +holes in both of 'em, Miss Daisy." + +"But your wages, Margaret?" I said; "I have nothing to do with +your wages." + +"Yes, Miss Daisy — they belongs to master, and I allowed to +bring 'em to you. They's all there so fur. It's all right." + +I felt the hot shame mounting to my face. I put the money back +in Margaret's hand, and hurriedly told her to keep it; we were +not at Magnolia; she might do what she liked with the money; +it was her own earnings. + +I shall never forget the girl's confounded look, and then her +grin of brilliant pleasure. I could have burst into tears as I +went up the stairs, thinking of others at home. Yet the +question came too, would my father like what I had been doing? +He held the girl to be his property and her earnings his +earnings. Had I been giving Margaret a lesson in rebellion, +and preparing her to claim her rights at some future day? +Perhaps. And I made up my mind that I did not care. Live upon +stolen money I would not, — any more than I could help. But +was I not living on it all the while? The old subject brought +back! I worried over it all the rest of the day, with many a +look forward and back. + +As the time of the vacation drew near, I looked hard for news +of my father and mother, or tidings of their coming home. +There were none. Indeed, I got no letters at all. That was +nothing to cause uneasiness; the intervals were often long +between one packet of letters and the next; but now I wanted +to hear of some change, now that the school year was ended. It +had been a good year to me. In that little world I had met and +faced some of the hardest temptations of the great world; they +could never be new to me again; and I had learned both my +weakness and my strength. + +No summons to happiness reached me that year. My vacation was +spent again with my aunt Gary, and without Preston. September +saw me quietly settled at my studies for another school year; +to be gone through with what patience I might. + +That school year had nothing to chronicle. I was very busy, +very popular, kindly treated by my teachers, and happy in a +smooth course of life. Faustina St. Clair had been removed +from the school; to some other I believe; and with her went +all my causes of annoyance. The year rolled round, my father +and mother in China or on the high seas; and my sixteenth +summer opened upon me. + +A day or two before the close of school, I was called to the +parlour to see a lady. Not my aunt; it was Mrs. Sandford; and +the doctor was with her. + +I had not seen Mrs. Sandford, I must explain, for nearly a +year; she had been away in another part of the country, far +from New York. + +"Why, Daisy! — is this Daisy?" she exclaimed. + +"Is it not?" I asked. + +"Not the old Daisy. You are so grown, my dear! — so — That's +right, Grant; let us have a little light to see each other +by." + +"It is Miss Randolph —" said the doctor, after he had drawn up +the window shade. + +"Like her mother! Isn't she? and yet, not like —" + +"Not at all like." + +"She is, though, Grant; you are mistaken; she is like her +mother; though as I said, she isn't. I never saw anybody so +improved. My dear, I shall tell all my friends to send their +daughters to Mme. Ricard." + +"Dr. Sandford," said I, "Mme. Ricard does not like to have the +sun shine into this room." + +"It's Daisy too," said the doctor, smiling, as he drew clown +the shade again. "Don't you like it, Miss Daisy?" + +"Yes, of course," I said; "but she does not." + +"It is not at all a matter of course," said he; "except as you +are Daisy. Some people, as you have just told me, are afraid +of the sun." + +"Oh, that is only for the carpets," I said. + +Dr. Sandford gave me a good look, like one of his looks of old +times, that carried me right back somehow to Juanita's +cottage. + +"How do you do, Daisy?" + +"A little pale," said Mrs. Sandford. + +"Let her speak for herself." + +I said I did not know I was pale. + +"Did you know you had headache a good deal of the time?" + +"Yes, Dr. Sandford, I knew that. It is not very bad." + +"Does not hinder you from going on with study?" + +"Oh no, never." + +"You have a good deal of time for study at night, too, do you +not? — after the lights are out?" + +"At night? how did you know that? But it is not always _study_." + +"No. You consume also a good deal of beef and mutton, now-a- +days? you prefer substantials in food as in everything else?" + +I looked at my guardian, very much surprised that he should +see all this in my face, and with a little of my childish +fascination about those steady blue eyes. I could not deny +that in these days I scarcely lived by eating. But in the +eagerness and pleasure of my pursuits I had not missed it, and +amid my many busy and anxious thoughts I had not cared about +it. + +"That will do," said the doctor. "Daisy, have you heard lately +from your father or mother?" + +My breath came short, as I said no. + +"Nor have I. Failing orders from them, you are bound to +respect mine; and I order you change of air, and to go +wherever Mrs. Sandford proposes to take you." + +"Not before school closes, Dr. Sandford?" + +"Do you care about that?" + +"My dear child," said Mrs. Sandford, "we are going to West +Point — and we want to take you with us. I know you will enjoy +it, my dear; and I shall be delighted to have you. But we want +to go next week." + +"Do you care, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford repeated. + +I had to consider. One week more, and the examination would be +over and the school term ended. I was ready for the +examination; I expected to keep my standing, which was very +high; by going away now I should lose that, and miss some +distinction. So at least I thought. I found that several +things were at work in my heart that I had not known were +there. After a minute I told Mrs. Sandford I would go with her +when she pleased. + +"You have made up your mind that you do not care about staying +to the end here?" said the doctor. + +"Dr. Sandford," I said, "I believe I _do_ care; but not about +anything worth while." + +He took both my hands, standing before me, and looked at me, I +thought, as if I were the old little child again. + +"A course of fresh air," he said, "will do you more good than +a course of any other thing just now. And we may find +'wonderful things' at West Point, Daisy." + +"I expect you will enjoy it, Daisy," Mrs. Sandford repeated. + +There was no fear. I knew I should see Preston at any rate; +and I had been among brick walls for many months. I winced a +little at thought of missing all I had counted upon at the +close of term; but it was mainly pride that winced, so it was +no matter. + +We left the city three or four days later. It was a June day — +can I ever forget it? What a brilliance of remembrance comes +over me now! The bustle of the close schoolrooms, the heat and +dust of the sunny city streets, were all left behind in an +hour; and New York was nowhere! The waves of the river +sparkled under a summer breeze; the wall of the palisades +stretched along, like the barriers of fairyland; so they +seemed to me; only the barrier was open and I was about to +enter. So till their grey and green ramparts were passed, and +the broader reaches of the river beyond, and as evening began +to draw in we came to higher shores and a narrower channel, +and were threading our way among the lights and shadows of +opposing headlands and hilltops. It grew but more fresh and +fair as the sun got lower. Then, in a place where the river +seemed to come to an end, the _Pipe of Peace_ drew close, in +under the western shore, to a landing. Buildings of grey stone +clustered and looked over the bank. Close under the bank's +green fringes a little boat-house and large clean wooden pier +received us; from the landing a road went steeply sloping up. +I see it all now in the colours which clothed it then. I think +I entered fairyland when I touched foot to shore. Even down at +the landing, everything was clean and fresh and in order. The +green branches of that thick fringe which reached to the top +of the bank had no dust on them; the rocks were parti-coloured +with lichens; the river was bright, flowing and rippling past; +the _Pipe of Peace_ had pushed off and sped on, and in another +minute or two was turning the point, and then — out of sight. +Stillness seemed to fill the woods and the air as the beat of +her paddles was lost. I breathed stillness. New York was fifty +miles away, physically and morally at the antipodes. + +I find it hard to write without epithets. As I said I was in +fairyland; and how shall one describe fairyland? + +Dr. Sandford broke upon my reverie by putting me into the +omnibus. But the omnibus quite belonged to fairyland too; it +did not go rattling and jolting, but stole quietly up the long +hill; letting me enjoy a view of the river and the hills of +the opposite shore, coloured as they were by the setting sun, +and crisp and sharp in the cool June air. Then a great round- +topped building came in place of my view; the road took a turn +behind it. + +"What is that?" I asked the doctor. + +"I am sorry, Daisy, I don't know. I am quite as ignorant as +yourself." + +"That is the riding-hall," I heard somebody say. + +One omnibus full had gone up before us; and there, were only +two or three people in ours besides our own party. I looked +round, and saw that the information had been given by a young +man in a sort of uniform; he was all in grey, with large round +gilt buttons on his coat, and a soldier's cap. The words had +been spoken in a civil tone, that tempted me on. + +"Thank you!" I said. "The riding-hall! — who rides in it?" + +"We do," he said, and then smiled, — "the cadets." + +It was a frank smile and a pleasant face and utterly the look +of a gentleman. So, though I saw that he was very much amused, +either at himself or me, I went on — + +"And those other buildings ?" + +"Those are the stables." + +I wondered at the neat, beautiful order of the place. Then, +the omnibus slowly mounting the hill, the riding-hall and +stables were lost to sight. Another building, of more +pretension, appeared on our left hand, on the brow of the +ascent; our road turned the corner round this building, and +beneath a grove of young trees the gothic buttresses and +windows of grey stone peeped out. Carefully dressed green +turf, with gravelled walks leading front different directions +to the doors, looked as if this was a place of business. +Somebody pulled the string here and the omnibus stopped. + +"This is the library," my neighbour in grey remarked — and +with that rising and lifting his cap, he jumped out. I watched +him rapidly walking into the library; he was tall, very erect, +with a fine free carriage and firm step. But then the omnibus +was moving on and I turned to the other side. And the beauty +took away my breath. There was the green plain, girdled with +trees and houses, beset with hills, the tops of which I could +see in the distance, with the evening light upon them. The +omnibus went straight over the plain; green and smooth and +fresh, it lay on the one side and on the other side of us, +excepting one broad strip on the right. I wondered what had +taken off the grass there; but then we passed within a hedge +enclosure and drew up at the hotel steps. + +"Have you met an acquaintance already, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford +asked as he handed me out. + +"An acquaintance?" said I. "No, but I shall fine him soon, I +suppose." For I was thinking of Preston. But I forgot Preston +the next minute. Mrs. Sandford had seized my hand and drew me +up the piazza steps and through the hall, out to the piazza at +the north side of the house. I was in fairyland surely! I had +thought so before, but I knew it now. Those grand hills, in +the evening colours, standing over against each other on the +east and on the west, and the full magnificent river lying +between them, bright and stately, were like nothing I had ever +seen or imagined. My memory goes back now to point after point +of delight which bewildered me. There was a dainty little sail +sweeping across just at the bend of the river; I have seen +many since; I never forget that one. There was a shoulder of +one of the eastern hills, thrown out towards the south-west, +over which the evening light fell in a mantle of soft gold, +with a fold of shadow on the other side. The tops of those +eastern hills were warm with sunlight, and here and there a +slope of the western hills. There was a point of lower ground, +thrust out into the river between me and the eastern shore, +which lay wholly in shadow, one soft mass of dusky green, +rounding out into a promontory. Above it, beyond it, at the +foot of the hills, a white church spire rose sharp as a +needle. It is all before me, even the summer stillness in +which my senses were rapt. There was a clatter in the house +behind me, but I did not hear it then. + +I was obliged to go away to get ready for tea. The house was +full; only one room could be spared for Mrs. Sandford and me. +That one had been engaged beforehand, and its window looked +over the same view I had seen from the piazza. I took my post +at this window while waiting for Mrs. Sandford. Cooler and +crisper the lights, cooler and grayer the shadows had grown; +the shoulder of the east mountain had lost its mantle of +light; just a gleam rested on a peak higher up; and my single +white sail was getting small in the distance, beating up the +river. I was very happy. My school year, practically, was +finished, and I was vaguely expecting some order or turn of +affairs which would join me to my father and mother. I +remember well what a flood of satisfied joy poured into my +heart as I stood at the window. I seemed to myself so very +rich, to taste all that delight of hills and river; the +richness of God's giving struck me with a sort of wonder. And +then, being so enriched, and tasting the deep treasures of +heaven and earth which I had been made to know, happy so +exceedingly, — it came to my heart with a kind of pang, the +longing to make others know what I knew; and the secret +determination to use all my strength as Christ's servant, — in +bringing others to the joy of the knowledge of him. + +I was called from my window then, and my view was exchanged +for the crowded dining-room, where I could eat nothing. But +after tea we got out upon the piazza again, and a soft north- +west breeze seemed to be food and refreshment too. Mrs. +Sandford soon found a colonel and a general to talk to; but +Dr. Sandford sat down by me. + +"How do you like it, Daisy?" + +I told him, and thanked him for bringing me. + +"Are you tired?" + +"No — I don't think I am tired." + +"You are not hungry of course, for you can eat nothing. Do you +think you shall sleep?" + +"I don't feel like it now. I do not generally get sleepy till a +great while after this." + +"You will go to sleep somewhere about nine o'clock," said the +doctor; "and not wake up till you are called in the morning." + +I thought he was mistaken, but as I could not prove it I said +nothing. + +"Are you glad to get away from school?" + +"On some accounts. I like school too, Dr. Sandford; but there +are some things I do not like." + +"That remark might be made, Daisy, about every condition of +life with which I am acquainted." + +"I could not make it just now," I said. + +He smiled. + +"Have you secured a large circle of friends among your +schoolmates, — that are to last for ever?" + +"I do not think they love me well enough for that," I said, +wondering somewhat at my guardian's questioning mood. + +"Nor you them?" + +"I suppose not." + +"Why, Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford, "I am surprised! I thought +you used to love everybody." + +I tried to think how that might be, and whether I had changed. +Dr. Sandford interrupted my thoughts again — + +"How is it with friends out of school?" + +"I have none," I said; thinking only of girls like myself. + +"None?" he said. "Do you really know nobody in New York?" + +"Nobody, — but one old lady." + +"Who is that, Daisy?" + +He asked short and coolly, like one who had a right to know; +and then I remembered he had the right. I gave him Miss +Cardigan's name and number. + +"Who is she? and who lives with her?" + +"Nobody lives with her; she has only her servants." + +"What do you know about her then, besides what she has told +you? Excuse me, and please have the grace to satisfy me." + +"I know I must," I said half laughing. + +"_Must?_" + +"You know I must too, Dr. Sandford." + +"I don't know it indeed," said he. "I know I must ask; but I +do not know what power can force you to answer." + +"Isn't it my duty, Dr. Sandford?" + +"Nobody but Daisy Randolph would have asked that question," he +said. "Well, if duty is on my side, I know I am powerful. But, +Daisy, you always used to answer me, in times when there was +no duty in the case." + +"I remember," I said, smiling to think of it; "but I was a +child then, Dr. Sandford." + +"Oh! — Well, apropos of duty, you may go on about Miss +Cardigan." + +"I do not know a great deal to tell. Only that she is very +good, very kind to me and everybody; very rich, I believe; and +very wise, I think. I know nothing more — except the way her +money was made." + +"How was it ?" + +"I have heard that her mother was a market-woman," I said very +unwillingly; for I knew the conclusions that would be drawn. + +"Is it likely," Dr. Sandford said slowly, "that the daughter +of a market-woman should be a good friend in every respect for +the daughter of Mrs. Randolph?" + +"It may not be _likely_," I answered with equal slowness; — "but +it is true." + +"Can you prove your position, Daisy?" + +"What is your objection to her, Dr. Sandford?" + +"Simply what you have told me. The different classes of +society are better apart." + +I was silent. If Miss Cardigan was not of my class, I knew I +wanted to be of hers. There were certain words running in my +head about "a royal priesthood, a peculiar people," and +certain other words too — which I thought it was no use to +tell Dr. Sandford. + +"She has no family, you say, nor friends who live with her, or +whom you meet at her house?" + +"None at all. I think she is quite alone." + +There was silence again. That is, between the doctor and me. +Mrs. Sandford and her officers kept up a great run of talk +hard by. + +"Now, Daisy," said the doctor, "you have studied the matter, +and I do not doubt have formed a philosophy of your own by +this time. Pray make me the wiser." + +"I have no philosophy of my own, Dr. Sandford." + +"Your own thus far, that nobody shares it with you." + +"Is that your notion of me," I said, laughing. + +"A very good notion. Nothing is worse than commonplace people. +Indulge me, Daisy." + +So I thought I had better. + +"Dr. Sandford, — if you will indulge me. What is _your_ notion +of dignity ?" + +He passed his hand over his hair, with a comical face. It was +a very fine face, as I knew long ago; even a noble face. A +steady, clear blue eye like his, gives one a sure impression +of power in the character, and of sweetness too. I was glad he +had asked me the question, but I waited for him to answer mine +first. + +"My notion of dignity!" he exclaimed. "I don't believe I have +any, Daisy." + +"No, but we are talking seriously." + +"Very. We always are, when you are one of the talkers." + +"Then please explain your notion of dignity." + +"I know it when I see it," said the doctor; "but faith! I +don't know what makes it." + +"Yes, but you think some people, or some classes, are set up +above others." + +"So do you." + +"What do you think makes the highest class, then?" + +"You are going too deep, or too high, which is the same thing. +All I mean is, that certain feet which fate has planted on +lofty levels, ought not to come down from them." + +"But it is good to know where we stand." + +"Very," said Dr. Sandford, laughing. That is, in his way of +laughing. It was never loud. + +"I will tell you where I want to stand," I went on. "It is the +highest level of all. The Lord Jesus said, 'Whosoever shall do +the will of My Father which is in heaven, the same is MY +BROTHER, and MY SISTER, and MOTHER.' I want to be one of +those." + +"But, Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, "the society of the world is +not arranged on that principle." + +I knew it very well. I said nothing. + +"And you cannot, just yet, go out of the world." + +It was no use to tell Dr. Sandford what I thought. I was +silent still. + +"Daisy," said he, "you are worse than you used to be." And I +heard a little concern in his words, only half hid by the +tone. + +"You do not suppose that such words as those you quoted just +now, were meant to be a practical guide in the daily affairs +of life? Do you ?" + +"How can I help it, Dr. Sandford?" I answered. "I would like +to have my friends among those whom the King will call His +sisters and brothers." + +"And what do you think of correct grammar, and clean hands?" +he asked. + +"Clean hands!" I echoed. + +"You like them," he said smiling. "The people you mean often +go without them — if report says true." + +"Not the people _I_ mean," I said. + +"And education, Daisy; and refined manners; and cultivated +tastes; what will you do without all these? In the society you +speak of they are seldom found." + +"You do not know the society I speak of, Dr. Sandford; and +Miss Cardigan has all these, more or less; besides something a +great deal better." + +Dr. Sandford rose up suddenly and introduced me to a Captain +Southgate who came up; and the conversation ran upon West +Point things and nothings after that. I was going back over my +memory, to find in how far religion had been associated with +some other valued things in the instances of my experience, +and I heard little of what was said. Mr. Dinwiddie had been a +gentleman, as much as any one I ever knew; he was the first. +My old Juanita had the manners of a princess, and the tact of +a fine lady. Miss Cardigan was a capital compound of sense, +goodness, business energies, and gentle wisdom. The others, — +well, yes, they were of the despised orders of the world. My +friend Darry, at the stables of Magnolia, — my friend Maria, +in the kitchen of the great house, — the other sable and sober +faces that came around theirs in memory's grouping, — they +were not educated nor polished nor elegant. Yet well I knew, +that having owned Christ before me, He would own them before +the angels of heaven; and what would they be in that day! I +was satisfied to be numbered with them. + +I slept, as Dr. Sandford had prophesied I would, that night. I +awoke to a vision of beauty. + +My remembrance of those days that followed is like a summer +morning, with a diamond hanging to every blade of grass. + +I awoke suddenly, that first day, and rushed to the window. +The light had broken, the sun was up; the crown of the morning +was upon the heads of the hills; here and there a light wreath +of mist lay along their sides, floating slowly off, or softly +dispersing; the river lay in quiet beauty waiting for the +gilding that should come upon it. I listened — the brisk notes +of a drum and fife came to my ear, playing one after another +joyous and dancing melody. I thought that never was a place so +utterly delightsome as this place. With all speed I dressed +myself, noiselessly, so as not to waken Mrs. Sandford; and +then I resolved I would go out and see if I could not find a +place where I could be by myself; for in the house there was +no chance of it. I took Mr. Dinwiddie's Bible and stole down +stairs. From the piazza where we had sat last night, a flight +of steps led down. I followed it, and found another flight, +and still another. The last landed me in a gravelled path; one +track went down the steep face of the bank, on the brow of +which the hotel stood; another track crossed that and wound +away to my right, with a gentle downward slope. I went this +way. The air was delicious; the woods were musical with birds +the morning light filled my pathway and, glancing from trees +or rocks ahead of me, lured me on with a promise of glory. I +seemed to gather the promise as I went, and still I was drawn +further and further. Glimpses of the river began to show +through the trees; for all this bank side was thickly wooded. +I left walking and took to running. At last I came out upon +another gravelled walk, low down on the hillside, lying +parallel with the river and open to it. Nothing lay between +but some masses of granite rock, grey and lichened, and a soft +fringe of green underbrush and small wood in the intervals. +Moreover, I presently found a comfortable seat on a huge grey +stone, where the view was uninterrupted, by any wood growth; +and if I thought before that this was fairyland, I now almost +thought myself a fairy. The broad river was at my feet; the +morning light was on all the shores, sparkled from the granite +rocks below me and flashed from the polished leaves, and +glittered on the water; filling all the blue above with +radiance; touching here and there a little downy cloud; +entering in and lying on my heart. I shall never forget it. +The taste of the air was as one tastes life and strength and +vigour. It all rolled in on me a great burden of joy. + +It was not the worst time or place in the world to read the +Bible. But how all the voices of nature seemed to flow in and +mix with the reading, I cannot tell, no more than I can number +them; the whirr of a bird's wing, the liquid note of a wood +thrush, the stir and movement of a thousand leaves, the gurgle +of rippling water, the crow's call, and the song-sparrow's +ecstasy. Once or twice the notes of a bugle found their way +down the hill, and reminded me that I was in a place of +delightful novelty. It was just a fillip to my enjoyment, as I +looked on and off my page alternately. + +By and by I heard footsteps, quick yet light footsteps, +sounding on the gravel. Measured and quick they came; then two +figures rounded a point close by me. There were two, but their +footfalls had sounded as one. They were dressed alike, all in +grey, like my friend in the omnibus. As they passed me, the +nearest one hastily pulled off his cap, and I caught just a +flash from a bright eye. It was the same. I looked after them +as they left my point and were soon lost behind another; +thinking that probably Preston was dressed so and had been +taught to walk so; and with renewed admiration of a place +where the inhabitants kept such an exquisite neatness in their +dress and moved like music. There was a fulness of content in +my mind, as at length I slowly went back up my winding path to +the hotel, warned by the furious sounds of a gong that +breakfast was in preparation. + +As I toiled up the last flight of steps I saw Dr. Sandford on +the piazza. His blue eye looked me all over and looked me +through, I felt. I was accustomed to that, both from the +friend and the physician, and rather liked it. + +"What is on the other side of the house?" I asked. + +"Let us go and see." And as we went, the doctor took my book +from my hand to carry it for me. He opened it, too, and looked +at it. On the other side or two sides of the house stretched +away the level green plain. At the back of it, stood houses +half hidden by trees; indeed all round two sides of the plain +there vas a border of buildings and of flourishing trees as +yell. Down the north side, from the hotel where we were, a +road went winding; likewise under arching trees; here and +there I could see cannon and a bit of some military work. All +the centre of the plain was level and green, and empty; and +from the hotel to the library stretched a broad strip of bare +ground, brown and dusty, alongside of the road by which we had +come across last night. In the morning sun, as indeed under +all other lights and at all other hours, this scene was one of +satisfying beauty. Behind the row of houses at the western +edge of the plain, the hills rose up, green and wooded, height +above height; and an old fortification stood out now under the +eastern illumination, picturesque and grey, high up among +them. As Dr. Sandford and I were silent and looking, I saw +another grey figure pass down the road. + +"Who are those people that wear grey, with a black stripe down +the leg?" I asked. + +"Grey?" said the doctor. "Where?" + +"There is one yonder under the trees," I said, "and there was +one in the omnibus yesterday. Are those the cadets?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Then Preston wears that dress. I wonder how I shall find him, +Dr. Sandford?" + +"Find whom?" said the doctor, waking up. + +"My cousin Preston — Preston Gary. He is here." + +"Here?" repeated the doctor. + +"Yes — he is a cadet — didn't you know it? He has been here a +long while; he has only one more year, I believe. How can we +find him, Dr. Sandford?" + +"I am ignorant, Daisy." + +"But we must find him," I said, "for of course he will want to +see me, and I want to see him, very much." + +The doctor was silent, and I remember an odd sense I had that +he was not pleased. I cannot tell how I got it; he neither did +nor said anything to make me think so; he did not even look +anywise different from usual; yet I felt it and was sure of +it, and unspeakably mystified at it. Could Preston have been +doing anything wrong? Yet the doctor would not know that, for +he was not even aware that Preston was in the Military Academy +till I told him. + +"I do not know, Daisy," he said at last; "but we can find out. +I will ask Captain Southgate or somebody else." + +"Thank you," I said. "Who are those, Dr. Sandford, those +others dressed in dark frock coats, with bright bars over +their shoulders? — like that one just now going out of the +gate?" + +"Those are officers of the army." + +"There are a good many of them. What are they here for? Are +there many soldiers here?" + +"No —" said the doctor — "I believe not. I think these +gentlemen are put here to look after the grey coats — the +cadets, Daisy. The cadets are here in training, you know." + +"But that officer who just went out — who is walking over the +plain now — he wore a sword, Dr. Sandford, and a red sash. +They do not all wear them. What is that for?" + +"What is under discussion?" said Mrs. Sandford, coming out. +"How well Daisy looks this morning, don't she?" + +"She has caught the military fever already," said the doctor. +"I brought her here for a sedative; but I find it is no such +matter." + +"Sedative!" — said Mrs. Sandford; but at this instant my ears +were "caught" by a burst of music on the plain. Mrs. Sandford +broke into a fit of laughter. The doctor's hand touched my +shoulder. + +"Get your hat, Daisy," he said. "I will go with you to hear +it." + +I might tell of pleasure from minute to minute of that day, +and of the days following. The breath of the air, the notes of +the wind instruments, the flicker of sunlight on the gravel, +all come back to me as I write, and I taste them again. Dr. +Sandford and I went down the road I have described, leading +along the edge of the plain at its northern border; from which +the view up over the river, between the hills, was very +glorious. Fine young trees shaded this road; on one side a +deep hollow or cup in the green plain excited my curiosity; +on the other, lying a little down the bank, a military work of +some odd sort planted with guns. Then one or two little +pyramidal heaps of cannon-balls by the side of the road, +marked this out as unlike all other roads I had ever +traversed. At the further side of the plain we came to the row +of houses I had seen from a distance, which ran north and +south, looking eastward over all the plain. The road which +skirted these houses was shaded with large old trees; and on +the edge of the greensward under the trees, we found a number +of iron seats placed for the convenience of spectators. And +here, among many others, Dr. Sandford and I sat down. + +There was a long line of the grey uniforms now drawn up in +front of us; at some little distance; standing still and doing +nothing, that I could see. Nearer to us and facing them stood +a single grey figure; I looked hard, but could not make out +that it was Preston. Nearer still, stood with arms folded one +of those who the doctor had said were army officers; I +thought, the very one I had seen leave the hotel; but all like +statues, motionless and fixed. Only the band seemed to have +some life in them. + +"What is it, Dr. Sandford?" I whispered, after a few minutes +of intense enjoyment. + +"Don't know, Daisy." + +"But what are they doing?" + +"I don't know, Daisy." + +I nestled down into silence again, listening, almost with a +doubt of my own senses, as the notes of the instruments +mingled with the summer breeze and filled the June sunshine. +The plain looked most beautiful, edged with trees on three +sides, and bounded to the east, in front of me, by a chain of +hills soft and wooded, which I afterwards found were beyond +the river. Near at hand, the order of military array, the +flash of a sword, the glitter of an epaulette, the glance of +red sashes here and there, the regularity of a perfect +machine. I said nothing more to Dr. Sandford; but I gathered +drop by drop the sweetness of the time. + +The statues broke into life a few minutes later, and there was +a stir of business of some sort; but I could make out nothing +of what they were doing. I took it on trust, and enjoyed +everything to the full till the show was over. + +CHAPTER XIV. + +YANKEES. + + +For several days I saw nothing of Preston. He was hardly +missed. + +I found that such a parade as that which pleased me the first +morning, came off twice daily; and other military displays, +more extended and more interesting, were to be looked for +every day at irregular times. I failed not of one. So surely +as the roll of the drum or a strain of music announced that +something of the sort was on hand, I caught up my hat and was +ready. And so was Dr. Sandford. Mrs. Sandford would often not +go; but the doctor's hat was as easily put on as mine, and as +readily; and he attended me, I used to think, as patiently as +a great Newfoundland dog. As patient, and as supreme. The +evolutions of soldiers and clangour of martial music were +nothing to _him;_ but he must wait upon his little mistress. I +mean of course the Newfoundland dog; not Dr. Sandford. + +"Will you go for a walk, Daisy?" he said, the morning of the +third or fourth day. "There is nothing doing on the plain, I +find." + +"A walk? Oh, yes!" I said. "Where shall we go?" + +"To look for wonderful things," he said. + +"Only don't take the child among the rattlesnakes," said Mrs. +Sandford. "_They_ are wonderful, I suppose, but not pleasant. +You will get her all tanned, Grant!" + +But I took these hints of danger as coolly as the doctor +himself did; and another of my West-Point delights began. + +We went beyond the limits of the post, passed out at one of +the gates which shut it in from the common world, and forgot +for the moment drums and fifes. Up the mountain side, under +the shadow of the trees most of the time, though along a good +road; with the wild hill at one hand rising sharp above us. +Turning round that, we finally plunged down into a grand dell +of the hills, leaving all roads behind and all civilisation, +and having a whole mountain between us and the West-Point +plain. I suppose it might have been a region for rattlesnakes, +but I never thought of them. I had never seen such a place in +my life. From the bottom of the gorge where we were, the +opposite mountain side sloped up to a great height; wild, +lonely, green with a wealth of wood, stupendous, as it seemed +to me, in its towering expanse. At our backs, a rocky and +green precipice rose up more steeply yet, though to a lesser +elevation, topped with the grey walls of the old fort, the +other face of which I had seen from our hotel. A wilderness of +nature it was; — wild and stern. I feasted on it. Dr. Sandford +was moving about, looking for something; he helped me over +rocks, and jumped me across morasses, and kept watchful guard +of me; but else he let me alone; he did lot talk; and I had +quite enough without. The strong delight of the novelty, the +freedom, the delicious wild things around, the bracing air, +the wonderful lofty beauty, made me as happy as I thought I +could be. I feasted on the rocks and wild verdure, the mosses +and ferns and lichen, the scrub forest and tangled +undergrowth, among which we plunged and scrambled; above all, +on those vast leafy walls which shut in the glen, and almost +took away my breath with their towering lonely grandeur. All +this time Dr. Sandford was as busy as a bee, in quest of +something. He was a great geologist and mineralogist; a lover +of all natural science, but particularly of chemistry and +geology. When I stopped to look at him, I thought he must have +put his own tastes in his pocket for several days past, that +he might gratify mine. I was standing on a rock, high and dry +and grey with lichen; he was poking about in some swampy +ground. + +"Are you tired, Daisy?" he said, looking up. + +"My feet are tired," I said. + +"That is all of you that can be tired. Sit down where you are +— I will come to you directly." + +So I sat down, and watched him, and looked off between whiles +to the wonderful green walls of the glen. The summer blue was +very clear overhead; the stillness of the place very deep; +insects, birds, a flutter of leaves, and the grating of Dr. +Sandford's boot upon a stone, all the sound that could be +heard. + +"Why, you are warm, as well as tired, Daisy," he said, coming +up to my rock at last. + +"It is warm," I answered. + +"Warm?" said he. "Look here, Daisy!" + +"Well, what in the world is that?" I said laughing. "A little +mud or earth is all that I can see." + +"Ah, your eyes are not good for much, Daisy — except to look +at." + +"Not good for much for _that_," I said, amused; for his eyes +were bent upon the earth in his hand. + +"I don't know" — said he, getting up on the rock beside me and +sitting down. "I used to find strange things in them once. But +this is something you will like, Daisy." + +"Is it?" + +"If you like wonderful things as well as ever." + +"Oh, I do!" I said. "What is it, Dr. Sandford?" + +He carefully wrapped up his treasure in a bit of paper and put +it in his pocket; then he cut down a small hickory branch and +began to fan me with it; and while he sat there fanning me he +entered upon a lecture such as I had never listened to in my +life. I had studied a little geology of course, as well as a +little of everything else; but no lesson like this had come in +the course of my experience. Taking his text from the very +wild glen where we were sitting and the mountain sides upon +which I had been gazing, Dr. Sandford spread a clear page of +nature before me and interpreted it. He answered unspoken +questions; he filled great vacancies of my ignorance; into +what had been abysms of thought he poured a whole treasury of +intelligence and brought floods of light. All so quietly, so +luminously, with such a wealth of knowledge and facility of +giving it, that it is a simple thing to say no story of +Eastern magic was ever given into more charmed ears around an +Arabian desert fire. I listened, and he talked and fanned me. +He talked like one occupied with his subject and not with me; +but he met every half uttered doubt or question, and before he +had done he satisfied it fully. I had always liked Dr. +Sandford; I had never liked him so much. I had never, since +the old childish times, had such a free talk with him. And +now, he did not talk to me as a child or a very young girl, +except in bending himself to my ignorance; but as one who +loves knowledge likes to give it to others, so he gave it to +me. Only I do not remember seeing him like to give it in such +manner to anybody else. I think the novelty added to the zest +when I thought about: it; at the moment I had no time for side +thoughts. At the moment my ears could but receive the pearls +and diamonds of knowledge which came from the speaker's lips, +set in silver of the simplest clear English. I notice that the +people who have the most thorough grasp of a subject make ever +least difficulty of words about it. + +The sun was high and hot when we returned, but I cared nothing +for that. I was more than ever sure that West Point was +fairyland. The old spring of childish glee seemed to have come +back to my nerves. + +"Dinner is just ready," said Mrs. Sandford, meeting us in the +hall. "Why, where _have_ you been? And look at the colour of +Daisy's face! Oh, Grant, what have you done with her?" + +"Very good colour —" said the doctor, peering under my hat. + +"She's all flushed and sunburnt, and overheated." + +"Daisy is never anything but cool;" he said, "unless when she +gets hold of a principle, and somebody else gets hold of the +other end. We'll look at these things after dinner, Daisy." + +"Principles?" half exclaimed Mrs. Sandford, with so dismayed +an expression that the doctor and I both laughed. + +"Not exactly," — said the doctor, putting his hand in his +pocket. "Look here." + +"I see nothing but a little dirt." + +"You shall see something else by and by — if you will." + +"You have never brought your microscope here, Grant? Where in +the world will you set it up?" + +"In your room — after dinner — if you permit." + +Mrs. Sandford permitted; and though she did not care much +about the investigations that followed, the doctor and I did. +As delightful as the morning had been, the long afternoon +stretched its bright hours along; till Mrs. Sandford insisted +I must be dressed, and pushed the microscope into a corner and +ordered the doctor away. + +That was the beginning of the pleasantest course of lessons I +ever had in my life. From that time Dr. Sandford and I spent a +large part of every day in the hills; and often another large +part over the microscope. No palace and gardens in the Arabian +nights were ever more enchanting, than the glories of nature +through which he led me; nor half so wonderful. "A little +dirt," as it seemed to ordinary eyes, was the hidden entrance +way ofttimes to halls of knowledge more magnificent and more +rich than my fancy had ever dreamed of. + +Meanwhile, Mrs. Sandford found a great many officers to talk +to. + +It was not till the evening of the next day following my first +walk into the mountains, that I saw Preston. — It was parade +time; and I was sitting as usual on one of the iron settees +which are placed for the convenience of spectators. I was +almost always there at parade and guard-mounting. The picture +had a continual fascination for me, whether under the morning +sun, or the evening sunset; and the music was charming. This +time I was alone, Dr. and Mrs. Sandford being engaged in +conversation with friends at a little distance. Following with +my ear the variations of the air the band were playing, my +mind was at the same time dwelling on the riches it had just +gained in the natural history researches of the day, and also +taking in half consciously the colours of the hills and the +light that spread over the plain; musing, in short, in a kind +of dream of delight; when a grey figure came between me and my +picture. Finding that it did not move, I raised my eyes. + +"The same Daisy as ever!" said Preston, his eyes all alight +with fun and pleasure. "The same as ever! And how came you +here? and when did you come? and how did you come?" + +"We have been here ever since Friday. Why haven't you been to +see me? Dr. Sandford sent word to you." + +"Dr. Sandford!" said Preston, taking the place by my side. +"How did you come here, Daisy?" + +"I came by the boat, last Friday. How should I come?" + +"Who are you with?" + +"Dr. Sandford — and Mrs. Sandford." + +"_Mrs_. Sandford, and Dr. Sandford," said Preston, pointedly. +"You are not with the doctor, I suppose." + +"Why, yes, I am," I answered. "He is my guardian — don't you +know, Preston? He brought me. How tall you have grown!" + +"A parcel of Yankees," said Preston. "Poor little Daisy." + +"What do you mean by 'Yankees'?" I said. "You do not mean just +people at the North, for you speak as if it was something +bad." + +"It is. So I do," said Preston. "They are a mean set — fit for +nothing but to eat codfish and scrape. I wish you had nothing +to do with Yankees." + +I thought how all the South lived upon stolen earnings. It was +a disagreeable turn to my meditations for a moment. + +"Where have you hid yourself since you have come here?" +Preston went on. "I have been to the hotel time and again to +find you." + +"Have you!" I said. "Oh, I suppose I was out walking." + +"With whom were you walking?" + +"I don't know anybody here, but those I came with. But +Preston, why are you not over yonder with the others?" + +I was looking at the long grey line formed in front of us on +the plain. + +"I got leave of absence, to come and see you, Daisy. And _you_ +have grown, and improved. You're wonderfully improved. Are you +the very same Daisy? and what are you going to do here?" + +"Oh, I'm enjoying myself. Now, Preston, why does that man +stand so?" + +"What man?" + +"That officer — here in front, standing all alone, with the +sash and sword. Why does he stand so?" + +"Hush. That is Captain Percival. He is the officer in charge." + +"What is that?" + +"Oh, he looks after the parade, and things." + +"But why does he stand so, Preston?" + +"Stand how?" said Preston, unsympathisingly. "That is good +standing." + +"Why, with his shoulders up to his ears," I said; "and his +arms lifted up as if he was trying to put his elbows upon a +high shelf. It is _very_ awkward." + +"They all stand so," said Preston. "That's right enough." + +"It is ungraceful." + +"It is military." + +"Must one be ungraceful in order to be military?" + +"_He_ isn't ungraceful. That is Percival — of South Carolina." + +"The officer yesterday stood a great deal better," I went on. + +"Yesterday? That was Blunt. He's a Yankee." + +"Well, what then, Preston?" I said, laughing. + +"I despise them!" + +"Aren't there Yankees among the cadets?" + +"Of course; but they are no count — only here and there +there's one of good family. Don't you have anything to do with +them, Daisy — mind; — not with one of them, unless I tell you +who he is." + +"With one of whom? what are you speaking of?" + +"The cadets." + +"Why, I have nothing to do with them," I said. "How should I?" + +Preston looked at me curiously. + +"Nor at the hotel, neither, Daisy — more than you can help. +Have nothing to say to the Yankees." + +I thought Preston had taken a strange fancy. I was silent. + +"It is not fitting," he went on. "We are going to change all +that. I want to have nothing to do with Yankees." + +"What are you going to change?" I asked. "I don't see how you +can help having to do with them. They are among the cadets, +and they are among the officers." + +"We have our own set," said Preston. "I have nothing to do +with them in the corps." + +"Now, Preston, look; what are they about? All the red sashes +are getting together." + +"Parade is dismissed. They are coming up to salute the officer +in charge." + +"It is so pretty!" I said, as the music burst out again, and +the measured steps of the advancing line of "red sashes" +marked it. "And now Captain Percival will unbend his stiff +elbows. Why could not all that be done easily, Preston?" + +"Nonsense, Daisy! — it is military." + +"Is it? But Mr. Blunt did it a great deal better. Now they are +going. — Must you go?" + +"Yes. What are you going to do to-morrow?" + +"I don't know — I suppose, we shall go into the woods again." + +"When the examination is over, I can attend to you. I haven't +much time just now. But there is really nothing to be done +here, since one can't get on horseback out of the hours." + +"I don't want anything better than I can get on my own feet," +I said joyously. "I find plenty to do." + +"Look here, Daisy," said Preston — "don't you turn into a +masculine, muscular woman, that can walk her twenty miles and +wear hob-nailed shoes — like the Yankees you are among. Don't +forget that you are the daughter of a Southern gentleman —" + +He touched his cap hastily and turned away — walking with +those measured steps towards the barracks; whither now all the +companies of grey figures were in full retreat. I stood +wondering, and then slowly returned with my friends to the +hotel; much puzzled to account for Preston's discomposure and +strange injunctions. The sunlight had left the tops of the +hills; the river slept in the gathering grey shadows, soft, +tranquil, reposeful. Before I got to the hotel, I had quite +made up my mind that my cousin's eccentricities were of no +consequence. + +They recurred to me, however, and were as puzzling as ever. I +had no key at the time. + +The next afternoon was given to a very lively show: the light +artillery drill before the Board of Visitors. We sat out under +the trees to behold it; and I found out now the meaning of the +broad strip of plain between the hotel and the library, which +was brown and dusty in the midst of the universal green. Over +this strip, round and round, back and forth and across, the +light artillery wagons rushed, as if to show what they could +do in time of need. It was a beautiful sight, exciting and +stirring; with the beat of horses' hoofs, the clatter of +harness, the rumble of wheels tearing along over the ground, +the flash of a sabre now and then, the ringing words of +command, and the soft shrill echoing bugle which repeated +them. I only wanted to understand it all; and in the evening I +plied Preston with questions. He explained things to me +patiently. + +"I understand," I said, at last, — "I understand what it would +do in war time. But we are not at war, Preston." + +"No." + +"Nor in the least likely to be." + +"We can't tell. It is good to be ready." + +"But what do you mean?" I remember saying. "You speak as if we +might be at war. Who is there for us to fight?" + +"Anybody that wants putting in order," said Preston. "The +Indians." + +"O Preston, Preston!" I exclaimed. "The Indians! when we have +been doing them wrong ever since the white men came here; and +you want to do them more wrong!" + +"I want to hinder them from doing us wrong. But I don't care +about the Indians, little Daisy. I would just as lief fight +the Yankees." + +"Preston, I think you are very wrong." + +"You think all the world is," he said. + +We were silent, and I felt very dissatisfied. What was all +this military schooling a preparation for, perhaps? How could +we know. Maybe these heads and hands, so gay to-day in their +mock fight, would be grimly and sadly at work by and by, in +real encounter with some real enemy. + +"Do you see that man, Daisy?" whispered Preston suddenly in my +ear. "That one talking to a lady in blue —" + +We were on the parade ground, among a crowd of spectators, for +the hotels were very full, and the Point very gay now. I said +I saw him. + +"That is a great man." + +"Is he?" I said, looking and wondering if a great man could +hide behind such a physiognomy. + +"Other people think so, I can tell you," said Preston. "Nobody +knows what that man can do. That is Davis of Mississippi." + +The name meant nothing to me then. I looked at him as I would +have looked at another man. And I did not like what I saw. +Something of sinister, nothing noble, about the countenance; +power there might be — Preston said there was — but the power +of the fox and the vulture it seemed to me; sly, crafty, +false, selfish, cruel. + +"If nobody knows what he can do, how is it so certain that he +is a great man?" I asked. Preston did not answer. "I hope +there are not many great men that look like him," I went on. + +"Nonsense, Daisy!" said Preston, in an energetic whisper. +"That is Davis of Mississippi." + +"Well?" said I. "That is no more to me than if he were Jones +of New York." + +"Daisy!" said Preston. "If you are not a true Southerner, I +will never love you any more." + +"What do you mean by a true Southerner? I do not understand." + +"Yes, you do. A true Southerner is always a Southerner, and +takes the part of a Southerner in every dispute, — right or +wrong." + +"What makes you dislike Northerners so much?" + +"Cowardly Yankees!" was Preston's reply. + +"You must have an uncomfortable time among them, if you feel +so," I said. + +"There are plenty of the true sort here. I wish you were in +Paris, Daisy; or somewhere else." + +"Why?" I said, laughing. + +"Safe with my mother, or your mother. Yon want teaching. You +are too latitudinarian. And you are too thick with the +Yankees, by half." + +I let this opinion alone, as I could do nothing with it; and +our conversation broke off with Preston in a very bad humour. + +The next day, when we were deep in the woods, I asked Dr. +Sandford if he knew Mr. Davis of Mississippi. He answered yes, +rather drily. I knew the doctor knew everybody. + +I asked, why Preston called him a great man. + +"Does he call him a great man?" Dr. Sandford asked. + +"Do you?" + +"No, not I, Daisy. But that may not hinder the fact. And I may +not have Mr. Gary's means of judging." + +"What means can he have?" I said. + +"Daisy," said Dr. Sandford suddenly, when I had forgotten the +question in plunging through a thicket of brushwood, — "if the +North and the South should split on the subject of slavery, +what side would you take?" + +"What do you mean by a 'split'?" I asked slowly, in my +wonderment. + +"The States are not precisely like a perfect crystal, Daisy; +and there is an incipient cleavage somewhere about Mason and +Dixon's line." + +"I do not know what line that is." + +"No. Well, for practical purposes, you may take it as the line +between the slave States and the free." + +"But how could there be a split?" I asked. + +"There is a wedge applied even now, Daisy — the question +whether the new States forming out of our Western territories, +shall have slavery in them or shall be free States." + +I was silent upon this; and we walked and climbed for a little +distance, without my remembering our geological or +mineralogical, or any other objects in view. + +"The North say," Dr. Sandford then went on, "that these States +shall be free. The South — or some men at the South — threaten +that if they be, the South will split from the North, have +nothing to do with us, and set up for themselves." + +"Who is to decide it?" I asked. + +"The people. This fall the election will be held for the next +President; and that will show. If a slavery man is chosen, we +shall know that a majority of the nation go with the Southern +view." + +"If not?" — + +"Then there may be trouble, Daisy." + +"What sort of trouble?" I asked hastily. + +Dr. Sandford hesitated, and then said, "I do not know how far +people will go." + +I mused, and forgot the sweet flutter of green leaves, and +smell of moss and of hemlock, and golden bursts of sunshine, +amongst which we were pursuing our way. Preston's strange heat +and sudden Southernism, Mr. Davis's wile and greatness, a +coming disputed election, quarrels between the people where I +was born and the people where I was brought up, divisions and +jealousies, floated before my mind in unlovely and confused +visions. Then, remembering my father and my mother and Gary Mc +Farlane, and others whom I had known, I spoke again. + +"Whatever the Southern people say, they will do, Dr. +Sandford." + +"_Provided_ —" said the doctor. + +"What, if you please?" + +"Provided the North will let them, Daisy." + +I thought privately they could not hinder. I thought they +could not. Would there be a trial? Could it be possible there +would be a trial? + +"But you have not answered my question," said the doctor. +"Aren't you going to answer it?" + +"What question?" + +"As to the side you would take." + +"I do not want any more slave States, Dr. Sandford." + +"I thought so. Then you would be with the North." + +"But people will never be so foolish as to come to what you +call a 'split,' Dr. Sandford." + +"Upon my word, Daisy, as the world is at present, the folly of +a thing is no presumptive argument against its coming into +existence. Look — here we shall get a nice piece of quartz for +your collection." + +I came back to the primary rocks, and for the present +dismissed the subject of the confusions existing on the +surface of the earth; hoping sincerely that there would be no +occasion for calling it up again. + +For some time I saw very little of Preston. He was busy, he +said. My days flowed on like the summer sunshine, and were as +beneficent. I was gaining strength every day. Dr. Sandford +decreed that I must stay as long as possible. Then Mr. +Sandford came, the doctor's brother, and added his social +weight to ours party. Hardly needed, for I perceived that we +were very much sought after; at least my companions. The +doctor in especial was a very great favourite, both with men +and women; who I notice are most ready to bestow their favour +where it is least cared for. I don't know but Dr. Sandford +cared for it; only he did not show that he did. The claims of +society however began to interfere with my geological and +other lessons. + +A few days after his brother's arrival, the doctor had been +carried off by a party of gentlemen who were going back in the +mountains to fish in the White Lakes. I was left to the usual +summer delights of the place; which indeed to me were +numberless; began with the echo of the morning gun, (or +before) and ended not till the three taps of the drum at +night. The cadets had gone into camp by this time; and the +taps of the drum were quite near, as well as the shrill sweet +notes of the fife at reveille and tattoo. The camp itself was +a great pleasure to me; and at guard-mounting or parade I +never failed to be in my place. Only to sit in the rear of the +guard tents and watch the morning sunlight on the turf, and on +the hills over the river, and shining down the camp alleys, +was a rich satisfaction. Mrs. Sandford laughed at me; her +husband said it was "natural," though I am sure he did not +understand it a bit; but the end of all was, that I was left +very often to go alone down the little path to the guard-tents +among the crowd that twice a day poured out there from our +hotel and met the crowd that came up from Cozzens's hotel +below. + +So it was, one morning that I remember. Guard-mounting was +always late enough to let one feel the sun's power; and it was +a sultry morning, this. We were in July now, and misty, +vapourous clouds moved slowly over the blue sky, seeming to +intensify the heat of the unclouded intervals. But wonderful +sweet it was; and I under the shade of my flat hat, with a +little help from the foliage of a young tree, did not mind it +at all. Every bit of the scene was a pleasure to me; I missed +none of the details. The files of cadets in the camp alleys +getting their arms inspected; the white tents themselves, +with curtains tightly done up; here and there an officer +crossing the camp ground and stopping to speak to an orderly; +then the coming up of the band, the music, the marching out of +the companies; the leisurely walk from the camp of the officer +in charge, drawing on his white gloves; his stand and his +attitude; and then the pretty business of the parade. All +under that July sky; all under that flicker of cloud and sun, +and the soft, sweet breath of air that sometimes stole to us +to relieve the hot stillness; and all with that setting and +background of cedars and young foliage and bordering hills +over which the cloud shadows swept. Then came the mounting +guard business. By and by Preston came to me. + +"Awfully hot, Daisy!" he said. + +"Yes, you are out in it," I said, compassionately. + +"What are _you_ out in it for?" + +"Why, I like it," I said. "How come you to be one of the red +sashes this morning?" + +"I have been an officer of the guard this last twenty-four +hours." + +"Since yesterday morning?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you like it, Preston?" + +"_Like_ it!" he said. "Like guard duty! Why, Daisy, when a +fellow has left his shoe-string untied, or something or other +like that, they put him on extra guard duty to punish him." + +"Did you ever do so, Preston?" + +"Did I ever do so?" he repeated savagely. "Do you think I have +been raised like a Yankee, to take care of my shoes? That +Blunt is just fit to stand behind a counter and measure +inches!" + +I was very near laughing, but Preston's mood would not bear +that. + +"I don't think it is beneath a gentleman to keep his shoe- +strings tied," I said. + +"A gentleman can't always think of everything!" was Preston's +answer. + +"Then you are glad you have only one year more at the +Academy?" + +"Of course I am glad! I'll never be under Yankee rule again; +not if I know it." + +"Suppose they elect a Yankee President?" I said; but Preston's +look was so eager and so sharp at me that I was glad to cover +my rash suggestion under another subject as soon as possible. + +"Are you going to be busy this afternoon?" I asked him. + +"No, I reckon not." + +"Suppose you come and go up to the Fort with me?" + +"What fort?" + +"Fort Putnam. I have never been there yet." + +"There is nothing on earth to go there for," said Preston +shrugging his shoulders. "Just broil yourself in the sun, and +get nothing for it. It's an awful pull up hill; rough, and all +that; and nothing at the top but an old stone wall." + +"But there is the view!" I said. + +"You have got it down here — just as good. Just climb up the +hotel stairs fifty times without stopping, and then look out +of the thing at top — and you have been to Fort Putnam." + +"Why, I want to go to the top of Crow's Nest," I said. + +"Yes! I was ass enough to try that once," said Preston, "when +I was just come, and thought I must do everything; but if +anybody wants to insult me, let him just ask me to do it +again!" + +Preston's mood was unmanageable. I had never seen him so in +old times. I thought West Point did not agree with him. I +listened to the bland, just then playing a fine air, and +lamented privately to myself that brass instruments should be +so much more harmonious than human tempers. Then the music +ceased and the military movements drew my attention again. + +"They all walk like you," I observed carelessly, as I noticed +a measured step crossing the camp ground. + +"Do they?" said Preston sneeringly. "I flatter myself I do not +walk like all of them. If you notice more closely, Daisy, you +will see a difference. You can tell a Southerner, on foot or +on horseback, from the sons of tailors and farmers — strange +if you couldn't!" + +"I think you are unjust, Preston," I said. "You should not +talk so. Major Blunt walks as well and stands much better than +any officer I have seen; and he is from Vermont; and Captain +Percival is from South Carolina, and Mr. Hunter is from +Virginia, and Colonel Forsyth is from Georgia. They are all of +them less graceful than Major Blunt." + +"What do you think of Dr. Sandford?" said Preston in the same +tone; but before I could answer I heard a call of "Gary! — +Gary!" I looked round. In the midst of the ranks of spectators +to our left stood a cadet, my friend of the omnibus. He was +looking impatiently our way, and again exclaimed in a sort of +suppressed shout — "Gary!" Preston heard him that time; +started from my side, and placed himself immediately beside +his summoner, in front of the guard tents and spectators. The +two were in line, two or three yards separating them, and both +facing towards a party drawn up at some little distance on the +camp ground, which I believe were the relieving guard. I moved +my own position to a place immediately behind them, where I +spied an empty camp stool, and watched the two with curious +eyes. Uniforms, and military conformities generally, are queer +things, if you take the right point of view. Here were these +two, a pair, and not a pair. The grey coat, and the white +pantaloons, (they had all gone into white now) the little +soldier's cap, were a counterpart in each of the other; the +two even stood on the ground as if they were bound to be +patterns each of the other; and when my acquaintance raised +his arms and folded them after the approved fashion, to my +great amusement Preston's arms copied the movement; and they +stood like two brother statues, still from their heels to +their cap rims. Except when once the right arm of my unknown +friend was unbent to give a military sign, in answer to some +demand or address from somebody, in front of him, which I did +not hear. Yet as I watched, I began to discern how individual +my two statues really were. I could not see faces, of course. +But the grey coat on the one looked as if its shoulders had +been more carefully brushed than had been the case with the +other; the spotless pantaloons, which seemed to be just out of +the laundress's basket, as I suppose they were, sat with a +trimmer perfection in one case than in the other. Preston's +pocket gaped, and was, I noticed, a little bit ripped; and +when my eye got down to the shoes, his had not the black gloss +of his companion's. With that one there was not, I think, a +thread awry. And then, there was a certain relaxation in the +lines of Preston's figure impossible to describe, stiff and +motionless though he was; something which prepared one for a +lax and careless movement when he moved. Perhaps this was +fancy and only arose from my knowledge of the fact; but with +the other no such fancy was possible. Still, but alert; +motionless, but full of vigour; I expected what came; firm, +quick, and easy action, as soon as he should cease to be a +statue. + +So much for a back view of character; which engrossed me till +my two statues went away. + +A little while after Preston came to me. "Are you here yet?" +he said. + +"Don't you like to have me here?" + +"It's hot. And it is very stupid for you, I should think. +Where is Mrs. Sandford?" + +"She thinks as you do, that it is stupid." + +"You ought not to be here without some one." + +"Why not? What cadet was that who called you, Preston?" + +"Called me? Nobody called me." + +"Yes he did. When you were sitting with me. Who was it?" + +"I don't know!" said Preston. "Goodbye. I shall be busy for a +day or two." + +"Then you cannot go to Fort Putnam this afternoon?" + +"Fort Putnam! I should think not. It is going to be broiling +to-day." + +And he left me. Things had gone wrong with Preston lately, I +thought. But before I had made up my mind to move, two other +cadets came before me. One of them Mrs. Sandford knew, and I +slightly. + +"Miss Randolph, my friend Mr. Thorold has begged me to +introduce him to you." + +It was _my_ friend of the omnibus. I think we liked each other +at this very first moment. I looked up at a manly, well- +featured face, just then lighted with a little smile of +deference and recognition; but permanently lighted with the +brightest and quickest hazel eyes that I ever saw. Something +about the face pleased me on the instant. I believe it was the +frankness. + +"I have to apologise for my rudeness, in calling a gentleman +away from you, Miss Randolph, in a very unceremonious manner, +a little while ago." + +"Oh, I know," I said. "I saw what you did with him." + +"Did I do anything with him?" + +"Only called him to his duty, I suppose." + +"Precisely. He was very excusable for forgetting it; but it +might have been inconvenient." + +"Do you think it is ever excusable to forget duty?" I asked; +and I was rewarded with a swift flash of fun in the hazel +eyes, that came and went like forked lightning. + +"It is not easily pardoned here," he answered. + +"People don't make allowances?" + +"Not officers," he said, with a smile. "Soldiers lose the +character of men, when they are on duty; they are only +reckoned machines." + +"You do not mean that exactly, I suppose." + +"Indeed I do!" he said, with another slighter corruscation. +"Intelligent machines, of course, but with no more latitude of +action. — You would not like that life?" + +"I should think you would not." + +"Ah, but we hope to rise to the management of the machines, +some day." + +I thought I saw in his face that he did. I remarked that I +should not think the management of mere machines could be very +pleasant. + +"Why not?" + +"It is degrading to the machines, — and so, I should think, it +would not be very elevating to those who make them machines." + +"That is exactly the use they propose them to serve, though," +he said, looking amused; "the elevation of themselves." + +"I know" — I said, thinking that the end was ignoble too. + +"You do not approve it?" he said. + +I felt those brilliant eyes dancing all over me, and, I +fancied, over my thoughts too. I felt a little shy of going on +to explain myself to one whom I knew so little. He turned the +conversation, by asking me if I had seen all the lions yet? + +I said, I supposed not. + +"Have you been up to the old fort?" + +"I want to go there," I said; "but somebody told me to-day, +there was nothing worth going for." + +"Has his report taken away your desire to make the trial?" + +"No, for I do not believe he is right." + +"Might I offer myself as a guide? I can be disengaged this +afternoon; and I know all the ways to the fort. It would give +me great pleasure." + +I felt it would give me great pleasure too, and so I told him. +We arranged for the hour, and Mr. Thorold hastened away. + +CHAPTER XV. + +FORT PUTNAM. + + +"I am going to Fort Putnam this afternoon, with Mr. Thorold," +— I announced to Mrs. Sandford, after dinner. + +"Who is Mr. Thorold?" + +"One of the cadets." + +"One of the cadets! So it has got hold of you at last, Daisy!" + +"What, Mrs. Sandford?" + +"But Fort Putnam? My dearest child, it is very hot!" + +"Oh, yes, ma'am — I don't mind it." + +"Well, I am very glad, if you don't," said Mrs. Sandford. "And +I am very glad Grant has taken himself off to the White Lakes. +He gave nobody else any chance. It will do you a world of +good." + +"What will?" I asked, wondering. + +"Amusement, dear, — amusement. Something a great deal better +than Grant's 'elegies and 'ologies. Now this would never have +happened if he had been at home." + +I did not understand her, but then I knew she did not +understand the pursuits she so slighted; and it was beyond my +powers to enlighten her. So I did not try. + +Mr. Thorold was punctual, and so was I; and we set forth at +five o'clock, I at least as happy as it was possible to be. +Warm — it was, yet; we went slowly down the road, in shadow +and sunshine; tasting the pleasantness, it seems to me, of +every tree, and feeling the sweetness of each breath; in that +slight exhilaration of spirits which loses nothing and forgets +nothing. At least I have a good memory for such times. There +was a little excitement, no doubt, about going this walk with +a cadet and a stranger, which helped the whole effect. + +I made use of my opportunity to gain a great deal of +information which Dr. Sandford could not give. I wanted to +understand the meaning and the use of many things I saw about +the Point. Batteries and fortifications were a mysterious +jumble to me; shells were a horrible novelty; the whole art +and trade of a soldier, something well worth studying, but +difficult to see as a reasonable whole. The adaptation of +parts to an end, I could perceive; the end itself puzzled me. + +"Yet there has always been fighting," — said my companion. + +"Yes," — I assented. + +"Then we must be ready for it." + +But I was not prepared in this case with my answer. + +"Suppose we were unjustly attacked?" — said Mr. Thorold; and I +thought every one of the gilt buttons on his grey jacket +repelled the idea of a peaceable composition. + +"I don't know," — said I, pondering. "Why should the rule be +different for nations and for individual people?" + +"What is your rule for individual people?" he asked, laughing, +and looking down at me, as he held the gate open. I can see +the look and the attitude now. + +"It is not my rule," I said. + +"_The_ rule, then. What should a man do, Miss Randolph, when he +is unjustly attacked?" + +I felt I was on very untenable ground, talking to a soldier. +If I was right, what was the use of his grey coat, or of West +Point itself. We were mounting the little steep pitch beyond +the gate, where the road turns; and I waited till I got upon +level footing. Then catching a bright inquisitive glance of +the hazel eyes, I summoned up my courage and spoke. + +"I have no rule but the Bible, Mr. Thorold." + +"The Bible! What does the Bible say? It tells of a great deal +of fighting." + +"Of bad men." + +"Yes, but the Jews were commanded to fight, were they not?" + +"To punish bad men. But we have got another rule since that." + +"What is it?" + +" 'If any man smite thee on the one cheek, turn to him the +other also.' " + +"Is it possible you think the Bible means that literally?" he +said. + +"Do you think it would say what it did not mean?" + +"But try it by the moral effect; what sort of a fellow would a +man be who did so, Miss Randolph?" + +"I think he would be fine!" — I said; for I was thinking of +One who, "when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He +suffered, He threatened not." But I could not tell all my +thought to Mr. Thorold; no more than I could to Dr. Sandford. + +"And would you have him stand by and see another injured?" my +companion asked. "Wouldn't you have him fight in such a case?" + +I had not considered that question. I was silent. + +"Suppose he sees wrong done; wrong that a few well planted +blows — or shots, if you like; shots are but well directed +blows," he said, smiling; — "wrong that a few well planted +blows would prevent. — Suppose somebody were to attack you +now, for instance; ought I not to fight for it?" + +"I should like to have you," I said. + +"Come!" he said, laughing, and stretching out his hand to +shake mine, — "I see you will let me keep my profession, after +all. And why should not a nation do, on a larger scale, what a +man may do?" + +"Why it may," I said. + +"Then — West Point is justified." + +"But very few wars in the world are conducted on that +principle," I said. + +"Very few. In fact I do not at this moment recollect the +instances. But you would allow a man, or a nation to fight in +self-defence, — would not you?" + +I pondered the matter. "I suppose — he has a right to protect +his life," I said. "But 'if a man smite thee on the cheek,' — +_that_ does not touch life." + +"What would you think of a man," said my companion gravely, — +"who should suffer some one to give him such a blow, without +taking any notice of it?" + +"If he did it because he was _afraid_," I said, "of course I +shouldn't like that. But if he did it to obey the Bible — I +should think it was noble. The Bible says 'it is glory, to +pass by a transgression.' " + +"But suppose he was afraid of being thought afraid?" + +I looked at my companion, and felt instinctively sure that +neither this nor my first supposed case would ever be true of +him. Further, I felt sure that no one would ever be hardy +enough to give the supposed occasion. I can hardly tell how I +knew; it was by some of those indescribable natural signs. We +were slowly mounting the hill; and in every powerful, lithe +movement, in the very set of his shoulders and head, and as +well in the sparkle of the bright eye which looked round at +me, I read the tokens of a spirit which I thought neither had +known nor ever would know the sort of indignity he had +described. He was talking for talk's sake. But while I looked, +the sparkle of the eye grew very merry. + +"You are judging me, Miss Randolph," he said. "Judge me +gently." + +"No indeed," I said. "I was thinking that you are not speaking +from experience." + +"I am not better than you think me," he said, laughing and +shaking his head. And the laugh was so full of merriment that +it infected me. I saw he was very much amused; I thought he +was a little interested too. "You know," he went on, "my +education has been unfavourable. I have fought for a smaller +matter than that you judge insufficient." + +"Did it do any good?" I asked. + +He laughed again; picked up a stone and threw it into the +midst of a thick tree to dislodge something — I did not see +what; and finally looked round at me with the most genial +amusement and good nature mixed. I knew he was interested now. + +"I don't know how much good it did to anybody but myself," he +said. "It comforted me — at the time. Afterwards, I remember +thinking it was hardly worth while. But if a fellow should +suffer an insult, as you say, and not take any notice of it, +what do you suppose would become of him in the corps — or in +the world either?" + +"He would be a noble man, all the same," I said. + +"But people like to be well thought of by their friends and +society." + +"I know that." + +"He would be sent to Coventry unmitigatedly." + +"I cannot help it, Mr. Thorold," I said. "If anybody does +wrong because he is afraid of the consequences of doing right, +he is another sort of a coward — that is all!" + +Mr. Thorold laughed, and catching my hand as we came to a turn +in the road where the woods fell away right and left, brought +me quick round the angle, without letting me go to the edge of +the bank to get the view. + +"You must not look till you get to the top," he said. + +"What an odd road!" I remarked. "It just goes by zigzags." + +"The only way to get up at all, without travelling round the +hill. That is, for horses." + +It was steep enough for foot wayfarers, but the road was +exceeding comfortable that day. We were under the shade of +trees all the way; and talk never lagged. Mr. Thorold was +infinitely pleasant to me; as well as unlike any one of all my +former acquaintances. There was a wealth of life in him, that +delighted my quieter nature; an amount of animal spirits that +were just a constant little impetus to me; and from the first +I got an impression of strength, such as weakness loves to +have near. Bodily strength he had also, in perfection; but I +mean now the firm self-reliant nature, quick at resources, +ready to act as to decide, and full of the power that has its +spring and magazine in character alone. So, enjoying each +other, we went slowly up the zigzags of the hill, very steep +in places, and very rough to the foot; but the last pitch was +smoother, and there the grey old bulwarks of the ruined +fortification faced down upon us, just above. + +"Now," said Mr. Thorold, coming on the outside of me to +prevent it, — "don't look!" — and we turned into the entrance +of the fort, between two outstanding walls. Going through, we +hurried up a little steep rise, till we got to a smooth spread +of grass, sloping gently to a level with the top of the wall. +Where this slope reached its highest, where the parapet (as Mr +Thorold called it) commanded a clear view from the eastern +side, there he brought me, and then permitted me to stand +still. I do not know how long I stood quite still without +speaking. + +"Will you sit down?" said my companion; and I found he had +spread a pocket-handkerchief on the bank for me. The turf in +that place was about eighteen inches higher than the top of +the wall, making a very convenient seat. I thought of Queen +Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh; but I also thought the most +queenly thing I could do was to take the offered civility, and +I sat down. My eyes were bewildered with the beauty; they +turned from one point to another with a sort of wondering, +insatiable enjoyment. There, beneath our feet, lay the little +level green- plain; its roads and trees all before us as in a +map, with the lines of building enclosing it on the south and +west. A cart and oxen were slowly travelling across the road +between the library and the hotel, looking like minute ants +dragging a crumb along. Beyond them was the stretch of brown +earth, where the cavalry exercises forbade a blade of grass to +show itself. And beyond that, at the further edge of the +plain, the little white camp; its straight rows of tents and +the alleys between all clearly marked out. Round all this the +river curved, making a promontory of it; a promontory with +fringed banks, and levelled at top, as it seemed, just to +receive the Military Academy. On the other side the river, a +long sweep of gentle hills, coloured in the fair colours of +the evening; curving towards the north-east into a beautiful +circle of soft outlines back of the mountain which rose steep +and bold at the water's edge. This mountain was the first of +the group I had seen from my hotel window. Houses and churches +nestled in the curve of tableland, under the mountain. Due +north, the parapet of the fort rising sharply at its northern +angle a few feet from where I sat, hindered my full view. +Southerly, the hills swept down, marking the course of the +river for many a mile; but again from where I sat I could not +see how far. With a sigh of pleasure my eye came back to the +plain and the white tents. + +"Is guard duty very disagreeable?" I asked, thinking of +Preston's talk in the morning. + +"Why, at mid-day, with the thermometer at 90, it is not +exactly the amusement one would choose," said Mr. Thorold. "I +like it at night well enough." + +"What do you do?" + +"Nothing, but walk up and down, two hours at a time." + +"What is the use of it?" + +"To keep order, and make sure that nothing goes in or out that +has no business to do it." + +"And they have to carry their guns," I said. + +"Their muskets — yes." + +"Are they very heavy?" + +"No. Pretty heavy for an arm that is new to it. I never +remember I have mine." + +"Mr. Caxton said," (Mr. Caxton was the cadet who had +introduced Mr. Thorold to me) — "Mr. Caxton told Mrs. Sandford +that the new cadets are sometimes so exhausted with their tour +of duty that they have to be carried off the ground." + +Mr. Thorold looked at me, a very keen bright look of his hazel +eyes; but he said nothing. + +"And he said, that the little white boxes at the corners of +the camp, were monuments to those who had fallen on duty." + +"Just four of them!" — said Mr. Thorold, settling his cap down +over his brows; but then he laughed, and I laughed; how we +laughed! + +"Don't you want to see the rest of it?" he said, jumping up. I +did not know there was anything more to see. Now, however, he +brought me up to the high angle of the parapet that had +intercepted my view to the north. I could hardly get away from +there. The full magnificence of the mountains in that quarter; +the river's course between them, the blue hills of the distant +Shawangunk range, and the woody chasm immediately at my feet, +stretching from the height where I stood over to the crest of +the Crow's nest; it took away my breath. I sat down again, +while Mr. Thorold pointed out localities; and did not move, +till I had to make way for another party of visitors who were +coming. Then Mr. Thorold took me all round the edge of the +fort. At the south, we looked down into the woody gorge where +Dr. Sandford and I had hunted for fossil infusoria. From here +the long channel of the river running southerly, with its +bordering ridge of hills, and above all, the wealth and glory +of the woodland and the upheaved rocks before me, were almost +as good as the eastern view. The path along the parapet in +places was narrow and dizzy; but I did not care for it, and my +companion went like a chamois. He helped me over the hard +places; hand in hand we ran down the steep slopes; and as we +went we got very well acquainted. At last we climbed up the +crumbling masonry to a small platform which commanded the view +both east and south. + +"What is this place for?" I asked. + +"To plant guns on." + +"They could not reach to the river, could they?" + +"Much further — the guns of now-a-days." + +"And the old vaults under here — I saw them as we passed by, — +were they prisons, places for prisoners?" + +"A sort of involuntary prisoners," said Mr. Thorold. "They are +only casemates; prisons for our own men occasionally, when +shot and shell might be flying too thick; hiding places, in +short. Would you like to go to the laboratory some day, where +we learn to make different kinds of shot, and fire-works and +such things?" + +"Oh, very much! But, Mr. Thorold, Mr. Caxton told me that +André was confined in one of these places under here; he said +his name was written upon the stones in a dark corner, and +that I would find it." + +Mr. Thorold looked at me, with an expression of such contained +fun that I understood it at once; and we bad another laugh +together. I began to wonder whether every one that wore a +uniform of grey and white with gilt buttons made it his +amusement to play upon the ignorance of uninitiated people; +but on reflection I could not think Mr. Thorold had done so. I +resolved to be careful how I trusted the rest of the cadets, +even Preston; and indeed, my companion remarked that I had +better not believe anything I heard without asking him. We ran +down and inspected the casemates; and then took our seats +again for one last look on the eastern parapet. The river and +hills were growing lovely in cooler lights; shadow was +stealing over the plain. + +"Shall I see you to-morrow evening?" my companion asked +suddenly. + +"To-morrow evening?" I said. "I don't know. I suppose we shall +be at home." + +"Then I shall _not_ see you. I meant, at the hop." + +"The hop?" I repeated. "What is that?" + +"The cadets' hop. During the encampment we have a hop three +times a week — a cotillion party. I hope you will be there. +Haven't you received an invitation?" + +"I think not," I said. "I have heard nothing about it." + +"I will see that that is set right," Mr. Thorold remarked. +"And now, do you know we must go down? — that is, _I_ must; and +I do not think I can leave you here." + +"Oh, you have to be on parade!" I exclaimed, starting up; "and +it is almost time! —" + +It was indeed, and though my companion put his own concerns in +the background very politely, I would be hurried. We ran down +the hill, Mr. Thorold's hand helping me over the rough way and +securing me from stumbling. In very few minutes we were again +at the gate and entered upon the post limits. And there were +the band, in dark column, just coming up from below the hill. + +We walked the rest of the way in orderly fashion enough, till +we got to the hotel gate; there Mr. Thorold touched his cap +and left me, on a run, for the camp. I watched till I saw he +got there in time; and then went slowly in; feeling that a +great piece of pleasure was over. + +I had had a great many pieces of pleasure in my life, but +rarely a _companion_. Dr. Sandford, Miss Cardigan, my dear +Captain Drummond, were all much in advance of my own age; my +servants were my servants, at Magnolia; and Preston had never +associated with me on just the footing of equality. I went up +stairs thinking that I should like to see a great deal more of +Mr. Thorold. + +Mrs. Sandford was on the piazza when I came down, and alone; +everybody was gone to parade. She gave me a little billet. + +"Well, Daisy! — are you walked to death, my dear? Certainly, +West Point agrees with you! What a colour! And what a change! +You are not the same creature that we brought away from New +York. Well, was it worth going for, all the way to see that +old ruin? My dear! I wish your father and mother could see +you." + +I stood still, wishing they could. + +"There is more pleasure for you," — Mrs. Sandford went on. + +"What is this, ma'am?" + +"An invitation. The cadets have little parties for dancing, it +seems, three times a week, in summer; poor fellows! it is all +the recreation they get, I suspect; and, of course, they want +all the ladies that can be drummed up, to help them dance. +It's quite a charity, they tell me. I expect I shall have to +dance myself." + +I looked at the note, and stood mute, thinking what I should +do. Ever since Mr. Thorold had mentioned it, up on the hill, +the question had been recurring to me. I had never been to a +party in my life, since my childish days at Melbourne. Aunt +Gary's parties at Magnolia had been of a different kind from +this; not assemblies of young people. At Mme. Ricard's I had +taken dancing lessons, at my mother's order; and in her +drawing room I had danced quadrilles and waltzes with my +schoolfellows; but Mme. Ricard was very particular, and nobody +else was ever admitted. I hardly knew what it was to which I +was now invited. To dance with the cadets! I knew only three +of them; however, I supposed that I might dance with those +three. I had an impression that amusements of this kind were +rather found in the houses of the gay than the sober-minded; +but this was peculiar, to help the cadets dance, Mrs. Sandford +said. I thought Mr. Thorold wished I would come. I wondered +Preston had not mentioned it. He, I knew, was very fond of +dancing. I mused till the people came back from parade and we +were called to tea; but all my musings went no further. I did +not decide not to go. + +"Now, Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford the next morning, "if you are +going to the hop to-night, I don't intend to have you out in +the sun burning yourself up. It will be terribly hot; and you +must keep quiet. I am so thankful Grant is away! he would have +you all through the woods, hunting for nobody knows what, and +bring you home scorched." + +"Dear Mrs. Sandford," I said, "I can dance just as well, if I +_am_ burnt." + +"That's a delusion, Daisy. You are a woman, after all, my +dear, — or you will be; and you may as well submit to the +responsibility. And you may not know it, but you have a +wonderfully fine skin, my dear; it always puts me in mind of +fresh cream." + +"Cream is yellow," I said. + +"Not all the cream that ever _I_ saw," said Mrs. Sandford. +"Daisy, you need not laugh. You will be a queen, my dear, when +you cease to be a child. What are you going to wear to-night?" + +"I don't know, ma'am; anything cool, I suppose." + +"It won't matter much," Mrs. Sandford repeated. + +But yet I found she cared and it did matter, when it came to +the dressing time. However she was satisfied with one of the +embroidered muslins my mother had sent me from Paris. + +I think I see myself now, seated in the omnibus and trundling +over the plain to the cadets' dancing rooms. The very hot, +still July night seems round me again. Lights were twinkling +in the camp, and across the plain in the houses of the +professors and officers; lights above in the sky too, myriads +of them, mocking the tapers that go out so soon. I was happy +with a little flutter of expectation; quietly enjoying +meanwhile the novel loveliness of all about me, along with the +old familiar beauty of the abiding stars and dark blue sky. It +was a five minutes of great enjoyment. But all natural beauty +vanished from my thoughts when the omnibus drew up at the door +of the Academic Building. I was entering on something untried. + +At first sight, when we went into the room, it burst upon me +that it was very pretty. The room was dressed with flags, — +and evergreens, — and with uniforms; and undoubtedly there is +charm in colour, and a gilt button and a gold strap do light +up the otherwise sombre and heavy figures of our Western +masculine costume. The white and rosy and blue draperies and +scarfs that were floating around the forms of the ladies, were +met and set off by the grey and white of the cadets and the +heavier dark blue of the officers. I never anywhere else saw +so pretty gatherings. I stood quite enchanted with the +pleasure of the eye; till to my startled astonishment, Captain +Pcrcival came up and asked me to dance the first dance with +him. I had not expected to dance with anybody except Preston +and Mr. Thorold, and perhaps Mr. Caxton. Mr. Thorold came up +before the dance began, and I presented him to Mrs. Sandford. +He asked me for the first dance, then for the second. And +there was no more time for anything, for the dancing began. + +I had always liked dancing at school. Here the music was far +better and the scene infinitely prettier; it was very +pleasant, I thought. That is, when Captain Percival did not +talk; for he talked nothings. I did not know how to answer +him. Of course it had been very hot to-day; and the rooms were +very full; and there were a good many people at the hotel. I +had nothing but an insipid affirmative to give to these +propositions. Then said Captain Percival insinuatingly — + +"You are from the South?" + +I had nothing but an insipid assent again. + +"I was sure of it," he said. "I could not be mistaken." + +I wondered how he knew, but it did not suit me to ask him; and +we danced on again till the dance came to an end. I was glad +when it did. In a minute more I was standing by Mrs. Sandford +and introduced to Captain Boulanger, who also asked me to +dance, and engaged me for the next but one; and then Mr. +Caxton brought up one of his brother cadets and presented him, +and he asked me, and looked disappointed when for both the +next dances I was obliged to refuse him. I was quite glad when +Mr. Thorold came and carried me off. The second quadrille went +better than the first; and I was enjoying myself unfeignedly, +when in a pause of the dance I remarked to my partner that +there seemed to be plenty of ladies here to-night. + +"Plenty," he said. "It is very kind of them. What then?" + +"Only —" I said — "so many people came and asked me to dance +in the few minutes I stood by Mrs. Sandford, and one of them +looked quite disappointed that he could not have me." + +I was met by a look of the keenest inquiry, followed instantly +and superseded by another flash of expression. I could not +comprehend it at the time. The eyes, which had startled me by +their steely gleam, softened wonderfully with what looked like +nothing so much as reverence, along with some other expression +which I could neither read at the moment nor fathom +afterwards. + +Both looks were gone before I could ask him what they meant, +or perhaps I should have asked; for I was beginning to feel +very much at my ease with Mr. Thorold. I trusted him. + +"Did he want you for this dance?" was all he said. + +"For this, and for the next," I answered. + +"Both gone! Well, may I have the third, and so disappoint +somebody else?" he said laughing. + +If I did not talk much with Mr. Thorold in intervals of +dancing, at least we did not talk nonsense. In the next pause +he remarked that he saw I was fond of this amusement. + +"I think I like everything," I told him. + +"Are the hills better than this?" he whispered. + +"Oh, yes!" I said. "Don't you think so?" + +He smiled, and said "truly he did." "You have been over the +Flirtation walk, of course?" he added. + +"I do not know which it is." + +He smiled again, that quick illuminating smile which seemed to +sparkle in his hazel eyes; and nodded his head a little. + +"I had the pleasure to see you there, very early one morning." + +"Oh, is that it?" I said. "I have been down that way from the +hotel very often." + +"That way leads to it. You were upon it, where you were +sitting. You have not been through it yet? May I show it to +you some day? To-morrow?" + +I agreed joyfully; and then asked who were certain of the +cadets whom I saw about the room, with rosettes of ribbon and +long streamers on the breast of their grey coats? + +"Those are the Managers," said my companion. "You will see +enough of them. It is their duty to introduce poor fellows who +want partners." + +I did not see much of them, however, that evening. As soon as +I was released from that dance, Captain Percival brought up +Captain Lascelles; and somebody else, Mr. Sandford, I believe, +introduced Lt. Vaux, and Major Fairbairn; and Major Pitt was +another, I believe. And Colonel Walruss brought up his son, +who was in the corps of cadets. They all wanted to dance with +me; so it was lucky Mr. Thorold had secured his second dance, +or I could not have given it to him. I went over and over +again the same succession of topics, in the intervals of +standing still. How the day had been warm, and the evening +kept up its character; the hotels were full now; the cadets +well off to have so many ladies; dancing a pleasant pastime, +and West Point a nice place. I got so accustomed to the +remarks I might expect, that my mouth was ready with an +assenting "yes" before the speaker began. But the talking was +a small part of the business after all; and the evening went +merrily for me, till on a sudden a shrill piercing summons of +drum and fife, rolling as it were into our very ears, put a +stop to proceedings. Midway in the movement the dancers +stopped; there was a hurried bow and curtsey, and an instant +scattering of all the grey-coated part of the assembly. The +"hop" was over. We went home in the warm moonlight, I thinking +that I had had a very nice time, and glad that Mr. Thorold was +coming to take me to walk to-morrow. + +CHAPTER XVI. + +HOPS. + + +The afternoon was very sultry; however Mr. Thorold came, and +we went for our walk. It was so sultry we went very leisurely, +and also met few people; and instead of looking very carefully +at the beauties of nature and art we had come to see, we got +into a great talk as we strolled along; indeed, sometimes we +stopped and sat down to talk. Mr. Thorold told me about +himself, or rather, about his home in Vermont and his old life +there. He had no mother, and no brothers nor sisters; only his +father. And he described to me the hills of his native +country, and the farm his father cultivated, and the people, +and the life on the mountains. Strong and free and fresh and +independent and intelligent — that was the impression his talk +made upon me, of the country and people and life alike. +Sometimes my thoughts took a private turn of their own, +branching off. + +"Mr. Thorold," said I, "do you know Mr. Davis, of +Mississippi?" + +"Davis? No, I don't know him," he said shortly. + +"You have seen him?" + +"Yes, I have seen him often enough; and his wife, too." + +"Do you like his looks?" + +"I do not." + +"He looks to me like a bad man —" I said slowly. I said it to +Mr. Thorold; I would hardly have made the remark to another at +West Point. + +"He is about bad business —" was my companion's answer. "And +yet — I do not know what he is about; but I distrust the man." + +"Mr. Thorold," said I, beginning cautiously, "do you want to +have slavery go into the territories?" + +"No," said he. "Do you?" + +"No. What do you think would happen if a Northern President +should be elected in the fall?" + +"Then slavery would _not_ go into the territories," he said, +looking a little surprised at me. "The question would be +settled." + +"But do you know some people say — some people at the South +say — that if a Northern President is elected, the Southern +States will not submit to him?" + +"Some people talk a great deal of nonsense," said Mr. Thorold. +"How could they help submitting?" + +"They say — it is said — that they would break off from the +North and set up for themselves. It is not foolish people that +say it, Mr. Thorold." + +"Will you pardon me, Miss Randolph, but I think they would be +very foolish people that would do it." + +"Oh, I think so too," I said. "I mean, that some people who +are not foolish, believe that it might happen." + +"Perhaps," said Mr. Thorold. "I never heard anything of it +before. You are from the South yourself, Miss Randolph?" he +added, looking at me. + +"I was born there," I said. And a little silence fell between +us. I was thinking. Some impression, got I suppose from my +remembrance of father and mother, Preston, and others whom I +had known, forbade me to dismiss quite so lightly, as too +absurd to be true, the rumour I had heard. Moreover, I trusted +Dr. Sandford's sources of information, living as he did in +habits of close social intercourse with men of influence and +position at Washington, both Southern and Northern. + +"Mr. Thorold" — I broke the silence, — "if the South should do +such a thing, what would happen?" + +"There would be trouble," he said. + +"What sort of trouble?" + +"Might be all sorts," said Mr. Thorold, laughing; "it would +depend on how far people's folly would carry them." + +"But suppose the Southern States should just do that; — say +they would break off and govern themselves?" + +"They would be like a bad boy that has to be made to take +medicine." + +"How could you _make_ them?" I asked, feeling unreasonably grave +about the question. + +"You can see, Miss Randolph, that such a thing could not be +permitted. A Government that would let any part of its +subjects break away at their pleasure from its rule, would +deserve to go to pieces. If one part might go, another part +might go. There would be no nation left." + +"But how could you _help_ it?" I asked. + +"I don't know whether we could help it," he said; "but we +would try." + +"You do not mean, that it would come to _fighting?_" + +"I do not think they would be such fools. I hope we are +supposing a very unlikely thing, Miss Randolph." + +I hoped so. But that impression of Southern character troubled +me yet. Fighting! I looked at the peaceful hills, feeling as +if indeed "all the foundations of the earth" would be "out of +course." + +"What would _you_ do in case it came to fighting?" said my +neighbour. The words startled me out of my meditations. + +"I could not do anything." + +"I beg your pardon. Your favour — your countenance, would do +much; on one side or the other. You would fight — in effect — +as surely as I should." + +I looked up. "Not against you," I said; for I could not bear +to be misunderstood. + +There was a strange sparkle in Mr. Thorold's eye; but those +flashes of light came and went so like flashes, that I could +not always tell what they meant. The tone of his voice however +I knew expressed pleasure. + +"How comes that?" he said. "You _are_ Southern?" + +"Do I look it?" I asked. + +"Pardon me — yes." + +"How, Mr. Thorold?" + +"You must excuse me. I cannot tell you. But you _are_ South?" + +"Yes," I said. "At least all my friends are Southern. I was +born there." + +"You have one Northern friend," said Mr. Thorold, as we rose +up to go on. He said it with meaning. I looked up and smiled. +There was a smile in his eyes, mixed with something more. I +think our compact of friendship was made and settled then and +at once. + + +He stretched out his hand as if for a further ratification. I +put mine in it, while he went on, "How comes it then that you +take such a view of such a question?" + +There had sprung up a new tone in our intercourse, of more +familiarity, and more intimate trust. It gave infinite content +to me; and I went on to answer, telling him about my Northern +life. Drawn on, from question to question, I detailed at +length my Southern experience also, and put my new friend in +possession not only of my opinions, but of the training under +which they had been formed. My hand, I remember, remained in +his while I talked, as if he had been my brother; till he +suddenly put it down and plunged into the bushes for a bunch +of wild roses. A party of walkers came round an angle a moment +after; and, waking up to a consciousness of our surroundings, +we found, or _I_ did, that we were just at the end of the rocky +walk, where we must mount up and take to the plain. + +The evening was falling very fair over plain and hill when we +got to the upper level. Mr. Thorold proposed that I should go +and see the camp, which I liked very much to do. So he took me +all through it, and showed and explained all sorts of things +about the tents and the way of life they lived in them. He +said he should like it very much, if he only had more room; +but three or four in one little tent nine feet by nine, gave +hardly, as he said, "a chance to a fellow." The tents and the +camp alleys were full of cadets, loitering about, or talking, +or busy with their accoutrements; here and there I saw an +officer. Captain Percival bowed, Captain Lascelles spoke. I +looked for Preston, but I could see him nowhere. Then Mr. +Thorold brought me into his own tent, introduced one or two +cadets who were loitering there and who immediately took +themselves away; and made me sit down on what he called a +"locker." The tent curtains were rolled tight up, as far as +they would go, and so were the curtains of every other tent; +most beautiful order prevailed everywhere and over every +trifling detail. + +"Well," said Mr. Thorold, sitting down opposite me on a +candle-box — "how do you think you would like camp life?" + +"The tents are too close together," I said. + +He laughed, with a good deal of amusement. + +"That will do!" he said. "You begin by knocking the camp to +pieces." + +"But it is beautiful," I went on. + +"And not comfortable. Well, it is pretty comfortable," he +said. + +"How do you do when it storms very hard — at night?" + +"Sleep." + +"Don't you ever get wet?" + +"_That_ makes no difference." + +"Sleep in the wet!" said I. And he laughed again at me. It was +not banter. The whole look and air of the man testified to a +thorough soldierly, manly contempt of little things — of all +things that might come in the way of order and his duty. An +intrinsic independence and withal control of circumstances, in +so far as the mind can control them. I read the power to do +it. But I wondered to myself if he never got homesick in that +little tent and full camp. It would not do to touch the +question. + +"Do you know Preston Gary?" I asked. "He is a cadet." + +"I know him." + +I thought the tone of the words, careless as they were, +signified little value for the knowledge. + +"I have not seen him anywhere," I remarked. + +"Do you want to see him? He has seen you." + +"No, he cannot," I said, "or he would have come to speak to +me." + +"He would if he could," replied Mr. Thorold, — "no doubt; but +the liberty is wanting. He is on guard. We crossed his path as +we came into the camp." + +"On guard!" I said. "Is he? Why, he was on guard only a day or +two ago. Does it come so often?" + +"It comes pretty often in Gary's case," said my companion. + +"Does it?" I said. "He does not like it." + +"No," said Mr. Thorold merrily. "It is not a favourite +amusement in most cases." + +"Then why does he have so much of it?" + +"Gary is not fond of discipline." + +I guessed this might be true. I knew enough of Preston for +that. But it startled me. + +"Does he not obey the regulations?" I asked presently, in a +lowered tone. + +Mr. Thorold smiled. "He is a friend of yours, Miss Randolph?" + +"Yes," I said. "He is my mother's nephew." + +"Then he is your cousin?" said my companion. Another of those +penetrative glances fell on me. They were peculiar; they +flashed upon me, or through me, as keen and clear as the flash +of a sabre in the sun; and out of eyes in which a sunlight of +merriment or benignity was even then glowing. Both glowed upon +me just at this moment, so I did not mind the keen +investigation. Indeed I never minded it. I learned to know it +as one of Mr. Thorold's peculiarities. Now, Dr. Sandford had a +good eye for reading people, but it never flashed, unless +under strong excitement. Mr. Thorold's were dancing and +flashing and sparkling with fifty things by turns; their fund +of amusement and power of observation were the first things +that struck me, and they attracted me too. + +"Then he is your cousin?" + +"Of course, he is my cousin." + +I thought Mr. Thorold seemed a little bit grave and silent for +a moment; then he rose up, with that benign look of his eyes +glowing all over me, and told me there was the drum for +parade. "Only the first drum," he added; so I need not be in a +hurry. Would I go home before parade? + +I thought I would. If Preston was pacing up and down the side +of the camp ground, I thought I did not want to see him nor to +have him see me; as he was there for what I called disgrace. +Moreover I had a secret presentiment of a breezy discussion +with him the next time there was a chance. + +And I was not disappointed. The next day, in the afternoon he +came to see us. Mrs. Sandford and I were sitting on the +piazza, where the heat of an excessively sultry day was now +relieved a little by a slender breeze coming out of the north- +west. It was very hot still. Preston sat down and made +conversation in an abstracted way for a little while. + +"We did not see you at the hop the other night, Mr. Gary," +Mrs. Sandford remarked. + +"No. Were you there?" said Preston. + +"Everybody was there — except you." + +"And Daisy? Were _you_ there, Daisy?" + +"Certainly," Mrs. Sandford responded. "Everybody else could +have been better missed." + +"I did not know you went there," said Preston, in something so +like a growl that Mrs. Sandford lifted her eyes to look at +him. + +"I do not wonder you are jealous," she said composedly. + +"Jealous!" said Preston, with growl the second. + +"You had more reason than you knew." + +Preston grumbled something about the hops being "stupid +places." I kept carefully still. + +"Daisy, did _you_ go?" + +I looked up, and said yes. + +"Whom did you dance with?" + +"With everybody," said Mrs. Sandford. "That is, so far as the +length of the evening made it possible. Blue and grey, and all +colours." + +"I don't want you to dance with everybody," said Preston, in a +more undertone growl. + +"There is no way to prevent it," said Mrs. Sandford, "but to +be there and ask her yourself." + +I did not thank Mrs. Sandford, privately for this suggestion; +which Preston immediately followed up by enquiring "if we were +going to the hop to-night?" + +"Certainly," Mrs. Sandford said. + +"It's too confounded hot!" + +"Not for us who are accustomed to the climate," Mrs. Sandford +said, with spirit. + +"It's a bore altogether," muttered Preston. "Daisy, are you +going to-night?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Well, if you must go, you may as well dance with me as with +anybody. So tell anybody else that you are engaged. I will +take care of you." + +"Don't you wish to dance with anybody except me?" + +"I do not," said Preston slowly. "As I said, it is too hot. I +consider the whole thing a bore." + +"You shall not be bored for me," I said. "I refuse to dance +with you. I hope I shall not see you there at all." + +"Daisy!" + +"Well?" + +"Come down and take a little walk with me." + +"You said, it is too hot." + +"But you will dance?" + +"You will not dance." + +"I want to speak to you, Daisy." + +"You may speak," I said. I did not want to hear him, for there +were no indications of anything agreeable in Preston's manner. + +"Daisy!" he said, — "I do not know you." + +"You used to know her," said Mrs. Sandford; "that is all." + +"Will you come and walk with me?" said Preston, almost +angrily. + +"I do not think it would be pleasant," I said. + +"You were walking yesterday afternoon." + +"Yes!" + +"Come and walk up and down the piazza, anyhow. You can do +that." + +I could, and did not refuse. He chose the sunny western side, +because no one was there. However, the sun's rays were +obscured under a thick haze and had been all day. + +"Whom were you with?" Preston enquired, as soon as we were out +of earshot. + +"Do you mean yesterday?" + +"Of course I mean yesterday! I saw you cross in to the camp. +With whom were you going there?" + +"Why did you not come to speak to me?" I said. + +"I was on duty. I could not." + +"I did not see you anywhere." + +"I was on guard. You crossed my path not ten feet off." + +"Then you must know whom I was with, Preston," I said, looking +at him. + +"_You_ don't know — that is the thing. It was that fellow +Thorold." + +"How came you to be on guard again so soon? You were on guard +just a day or two before." + +"That is all right enough. It is about military things, that +you do not understand. It is all right enough, except these +confounded Yankees. And Thorold is another." + +"Who is _one?_" I said, laughing. "You say he is _another_." + +"Blunt is one." + +"I like Major Blunt." + +"Daisy," said Preston, stopping short, "you ought to be with +your mother. There is nobody to take care of you here. How +came you to know that Thorold?" + +"He was introduced to me. What is the matter with him?" + +"You ought not to be going about with him. He is a regular +Yankee, I tell you." + +"What does that mean?" I said. "You speak it as if you meant +something very objectionable. + +"I do. They are a cowardly set of tailors. They have no idea +what a gentleman means, not one of them, unless they have +caught the idea from a Southerner. I don't want you to have +anything to do with them, Daisy. You must not dance with them, +and you must not be seen with this Thorold. Promise me you +will not." + +"Dr. Sandford is another," I said. + +"I can't help Dr. Sandford. He is your guardian. You must not +go again with Thorold!" + +"Did you ever know _him_ cowardly?" I asked. + +I was sure that Preston coloured; whether with any feeling +beside anger I could not make out; but the anger was certain. + +"What do you know about it?" he asked. + +"What do you?" I rejoined. But Preston changed more and more. + +"Daisy, promise me you will not have anything to do with these +fellows. You are too good to dance with them. There are plenty +of Southern people here now, and lots of Southern cadets." + +"Mr. Caxton is one," I said. "I don't like him." + +"He is of an excellent Georgia family," said Preston. + +"I cannot help that. He is neither gentlemanly in his habits, +nor true in his speech." + +Preston hereupon broke out into an untempered abuse of +Northern things in general and Northern cadets in particular, +mingled with a repetition of his demands upon me. At length I +turned from him. + +"This is very tiresome, Preston," I said; "and this side of +the house is very warm. Of course I must dance with whoever +asks me." + +"Well, I have asked you for this evening," he said, following +me. + +"You are not to go," I said. "I shall not dance with you +once," and I took my former place by Mrs. Sandford. Preston +fumed; declared I was just like a piece of marble; and went +away. I did not feel quite so impassive as he said I looked. + +"What are you going to wear to-night, Daisy?" Mrs. Sandford +asked presently. + +"I don't know, ma'am." + +"But you must know soon, my dear. Have you agreed to give your +cousin half the evening?" + +"No, ma'am — I could not — I am engaged for every dance, and +more." + +"More!" said Mrs. Sandford. + +"Yes ma'am — for the next time." + +"Preston has reason!" she said, laughing. "But I think, Daisy, +Grant will be the most jealous of all. Do him good. What will +become of his sciences and his microscope now?" + +"Why, I shall be just as ready for them," I said. + +Mrs. Sandford shook her head. "You will find the hops will +take more than that," she said. "But now, Daisy, think what +you will wear; for we must go soon and get ready." + +I did not want to think about it. I expected, of course, to +put on the same dress I had worn the last time. But Mrs. +Sandford objected very strongly. + +"You must not wear the same thing twice running," she said; +"not if you can help it." + +I could not imagine why not. + +"It is quite nice enough," I urged. "It is scarcely the least +mussed in the world." + +"People will think you have not another, my dear." + +"What matter would that be?" I said, wholly puzzled. + +"Now, my dear Daisy!" said Mrs. Sandford, half laughing, — +"you are the veriest Daisy in the world, and do not understand +the world that you grow in. No matter; just oblige me, and put +on something else to-night. What have you got?" + +I had other dresses like the rejected one. I had another +still, white like them, but of different make and quality. I +hardly knew what it was, for I had never worn it; to please +Mrs. Sandford I took it out now. She was pleased. It was, like +the rest, out of the store my mother had sent me; a soft India +muslin, of beautiful texture, made and trimmed as my mother +and a Parisian artist could manage between them. But no +Parisian artist could know better than my mother how a thing +should be. + +"That will do!" said Mrs. Sandford approvingly. "Dear me, what +lace! What lace you Southern ladies do wear, to be sure! A +blue sash, now, Daisy?" + +"No ma'am, I think not." + +"Rose? It must be blue or rose." + +But I thought differently, and kept it white. + +"_No_ colour?" said Mrs. Sandford. "None at all? Then just let +me put this little bit of green in your hair." + +As I stood before the glass and she tried various positions +for some geranium leaves, I felt that would not do either. Any +dressing of my head would commonise the whole thing. I watched +her fingers and the geranium leaves going from one side of my +head to the other, watched how every touch changed the tone of +my costume, and felt that I could not suffer it; and then it +suddenly occurred to me that I, who a little while before had +not cared about my dress for the evening, now did care, and +that determinedly. I knew I would wear no geranium leaves, not +even to please Mrs. Sandford. And for the first time a +question stole into my mind, what was I, Daisy, doing? But +then I said to myself, that the dress without this head +adorning was perfect in its elegance; it suited me; and it was +not wrong to like beauty nor to dislike things in bad taste. +Perhaps I was too handsomely dressed, but I could not change +that now. Another time I would go back to my embroidered +muslins, and stay there. + +"I like it better without anything, Mrs. Sandford," I said, +removing her green decorations and turning away from the +glass. Mrs. Sandford sighed, but said "it would do without +them," and away we went. + +I can see it all again; I can almost feel the omnibus roll +with me over the plain, that still sultry night. All those +nights were sultry. Then as we came near the Academic +Building, I could see the lights in the upper windows; here +and there an officer sitting in a window-sill, and the figures +of cadets passing back and forth. Then we mounted to the hall +above, filled with cadets in a little crowd, and words of +recognition came, and Preston, meeting us almost before we got +out of the dressing room. + +"Daisy, you dance with me?" + +"I am engaged, Preston, for the first dance." + +"Already! The second, then, and all the others?" + +"I am engaged," — I repeated, and left him, for Mr. Thorold +was at my side. + +I forgot Preston the next minute. It was easy to forget him, +for all the first half of the evening I was honestly happy in +dancing. In talking too, whenever Thorold was my partner; +other people's talk was very tiresome. They went over the +platitudes of the day; or they started subjects of interest +that were not interesting to me. Bits of gossip — discussions +of fashionable amusements with which I could have nothing to +do; frivolous badinage, which was of all things most +distasteful to me. Yet, amid it all, I believe, there was a +subtle incense of admiration which by degrees and insensibly +found its way to my senses. But I had two dances with Thorold, +and at those times I was myself and enjoyed unalloyed +pleasure. And so I thought did he. + +I saw Preston, when now and then I caught a glimpse of him, +looking excessively glum. Midway in the evening it happened +that I was standing beside him for a few moments, waiting for +my next partner. + +"You are dancing with nobody but that man whom I hate!" he +grumbled. "Who is it now?" + +"Captain Vaux." + +"Will you dance with me after that?" + +"I cannot, Preston. I must dance with Major Banks." + +"You seem to like it pretty well," he growled. + +"No wonder," said Mrs. Sandford. "You were quite right about +the geranium leaves, Daisy; you do not want them. You do not +want anything, my dear," she whispered. + +At this instant a fresh party entered the room, just as my +partner came up to claim me. + +"There are some handsome girls," said the captain. "Two of +them, really!" + +"People from Cozzens's," said Mrs. Sandford, "who think the +cadets keep New York hours." + +It was Faustina St. Clair and Mary Lansing, with their friends +and guardians, I don't know whom. And as I moved to take my +place in the dance, I was presently confronted by my school +adversary and the partner she had immediately found. The +greeting was very slight and cool on her side. + +"Excessively handsome," whispered the captain. "A friend of +yours?" + +"A schoolfellow," I said. + +"Must be a pleasant thing, I declare, to have such handsome +schoolfellows," said the captain. "Beauty is a great thing, +isn't it? I wonder sometimes how the ladies can make up their +minds to take up with such great rough ugly fellows as we are, +for a set. How do you think it is?" + +I thought it was wonderful too, when they were like him. But I +said nothing. + +"Dress too," said the captain. "Now look at our dress! +Straight and square and stiff; and no variety in it. While our +eyes are delighted, on the other side, with soft draperies and +fine colours, and combinations of grace and elegance, that are +fit to put a man in Elysium!" + +"Did you notice the colour of the haze in the west, this +evening at sunset?" I asked. + +"Haze? No, really. I didn't know there was any haze, really, +except in my head. I get hazy amidst these combinations. +Seriously, Miss Randolph, what do you think of a soldier's +life?" + +"It depends on who the soldier is," I said. + +"Cool, really!" said the captain. "Cool! Ha! ha! —" + +And he laughed, till I wondered what I could have said to +amuse him so much. + +"Then you have learned to individualise soldiers already?" was +his next question, put with a look which seemed to me +inquisitive and impertinent. I did not know how to answer it, +and left it unanswered; — and the captain and I had the rest +of our dance out in silence. Meanwhile, I could not help +watching Faustina. — She was so very handsome, with a marked, +dashing sort of beauty that I saw was prodigiously admired. +She took no notice of me, and barely touched the tips of my +fingers with her glove as we passed in the dance. + +As he was leading me back to Mrs. Sandford, the captain +stooped his head to mine. "Forgive me?" — he whispered. "So +much gentleness cannot bear revenge. I am only a soldier." + +"Forgive you what, sir?" I asked. And he drew up his head +again, half laughed, muttered that I was worse than grape or +round shot, and handed me over to my guardian. + +"My dear Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford, "if you were not so sweet +as you are, you would be a queen. There, now! do not lift up +your grey eyes at me like that, or I shall make you a +reverence the first thing I do, and fancy that I am one of +your _dames d'honneur_. Who is next? Major Banks? Take care, +Daisy, or you'll do some mischief." + +I had not time to think about her words; the dances went +forward, and I took my part in them with great pleasure until +the tattoo summons broke us up. Indeed my pleasure lasted +until we got home to the hotel, and I heard Mrs. Sandford +saying, in an aside to her husband, amid some rejoicing over +me, — "I was dreadfully afraid she wouldn't go." The words, or +something in them, gave me a check. However, I had too many +exciting things to think of to take it up just then; and my +brain was in a whirl of pleasure till I went to sleep. + +CHAPTER XVII. + +OBEYING ORDERS. + + +As I roomed with Mrs. Sandford, of course I had very scant +opportunities of being by myself. In the delightful early +mornings I was accustomed to take my book, therefore, and go +down where I had gone the first morning, to the rocks by the +river's side. Nobody came by that way at so early an hour; I +had been seen by nobody except that one time, when Thorold and +his companion passed me; and I felt quite safe. It was +pleasanter down there than can be told. However sultry the air +on the heights above, so near the water there was always a +savour of freshness; or else I fancied it, in the hearing of +the soft liquid murmur of the little wavelets against the +shore. But sometimes it was so still I could hear nothing of +that; then birds and insects, or the faint notes of a bugle +call, were the only things to break the absolute hush; and the +light was my refreshment, on river and tree and rock and hill; +one day sharp and clear, another day fairyland- like and +dreamy through golden mist. + +It was a good retiring place in any case, so early in the day. +I could read and pray there better than in a room, I thought. +The next morning after my second dancing party, I was there as +usual. It was a sultry July morning, the yellow light in the +haze on the hills threatening a very hot day. I was very +happy, as usual; but somehow my thoughts went roaming off into +the yellow haze as if the landscape had been my life, and I +were trying to pick out points of light here and there, and +sporting on the gay surface. I danced my dances over again in +the flow of the river; heard soft words of kindness or +admiration in the song of the birds; wandered away in mazes of +speculative fancy among the thickets of tree stems and under- +brush. The sweet wonderful note of a wood thrush, somewhere +far out of sight, assured me, what everything conspired to +assure me, that I was certainly in fairyland, not on the +common earth. But I could not somehow get on with my Bible. +Again and again I began to read; then a bird or a bough or a +ripple would catch my attention, and straightway I was off on +a flight of fancy or memory, dancing over again my dances with +Mr. Thorold, dwelling upon the impression of his figure and +dress, and the fascination of his brilliant, changing hazel +eyes; or recalling Captain Vaux's or somebody else's insipid +words and looks, or Faustina St. Clair's manner of ill will; +or on the other hand giving a passing thought to the question, +how I should dress the next hop night. After a long wandering +I would come back and begin at my Bible again, but only for a +little; my fancy could not be held to it; and a few scarcely +read verses and a few half-uttered petitions were all I had +accomplished before the clangour of the hotel gong sounding +down even to me, warned me that my time was gone. And the note +of the wood-thrush as I slowly mounted the path, struck +reproachfully and rebukingly upon the ear of my conscience. + +How had this come about? I mused as I went up the hill. What +was the matter? What had bewitched me? No pleasure in my +Bible; no time for prayer; and only the motion of feet moving +to music, only the flutter of lace and muslin, and the +flashing of hazel eyes, filling my brain? What was wrong? Nay, +something! And why had Mrs. Sandford "feared" I would not go +to the hops? Were they not places for Christians to go to? +What earthly harm? Only pleasure. But what if pleasure that +marred better pleasure — that interrupted duty? And why was I +ruminating on styles and colours, and proposing to put on +another dress that should be more becoming the next time? and +thinking that it would be well it should be a contrast to +Faustina St. Clair? What! entering the lists with her, on her +own field? No, no; I could not think it. But what then? And +what was this little flutter at my heart about gentlemen's +words and looks of homage and liking? What could it be to me, +that such people as Captain Vaux or Captain Lascelles liked +me? Captain Lascelles, who when he was not dancing or flirting +was pleased to curl himself up on one of the window seats like +a monkey, and take a grinning survey of what went on. Was I +flattered by such admiration as his? — or _any_ admiration? I +liked to have Mr. Thorold like me; yes, I was not wrong to be +pleased with that; besides, that was _liking;_ not empty +compliments. But for my lace and my India muslin and my +"Southern elegance" — I knew Colonel Walrus meant me when he +talked about that, — was I thinking of admiration for such +things as these, and thinking so much, that my Bible reading +had lost its charm? What was in fault? Not the hops? They were +too pleasant. It could not be the hops. + +I mounted the hill slowly and in a great maze, getting more +and more troubled. I entering the lists with Faustina St. +Clair, going in her ways? I knew these were her ways. I had +heard scraps enough of conversation among the girls about +these things, which I then did not understand. And another +word came therewith into my mind, powerful once before and +powerful now to disentangle the false from the true. "The +world knoweth us not." Did it not know me, last night? Would +it not, if I went there again? But the hops were so pleasant! + +It almost excites a smile in me now to think how pleasant they +were. I was only sixteen. I had seen no dancing parties other +than the little school assemblages at Mme. Ricard's; and I was +fond of the amusement even there. Here, it seemed to me then +as if all prettiness and pleasantness that could come together +in such a gathering, met, in the dancing room of the cadets. I +think not very differently now, as to that point. The pretty +accompaniments of uniform; the simple style and hours; the +hearty enjoyment of the occasion; were all a little unlike +what is found at other places. And to me, and to increase my +difficulty, came a crowning pleasure; I met Thorold there. To +have a good dance and talk with him was worth certainly all +the rest. Must I give it up? + +I could not bear to think so, but the difficulty helped to +prick my conscience. There had been only two fops, and I was +so enthralled already. How would it be if I had been to a +dozen? and where might it end? And the word stands, — "the +world knoweth us _not_." + +It must not know me, Daisy Randolph, as in any sort belonging +to it or mixed up with it; and therefore — Daisy Randolph must +go to the hop no more. I felt the certainty of the decision +growing over me, even while I was appalled by it. I staved off +consideration all that day. + +In the afternoon Mr. Thorold came and took me to see the +laboratory, and explained for me a number of curious things. I +should have had great enjoyment, if Preston had not taken it +into his head, unasked, to go along; being unluckily with me +when Thorold came. He was a thorough marplot; saying nothing +of consequence himself, and only keeping a grim watch — I +could take it as nothing else — of everything we said and did. +Consequently, Mr. Thorold's lecture was very proper and grave, +instead of being full of fun and amusement as well as +instruction. I took Preston to task about it when we got home. + +"You hinder pleasure when you go in that mood," I told him. + +"What mood?" + +"You know. You never are pleasant when Mr. Thorold is present +or when he is mentioned." + +"He is a cowardly Yankee!" was Preston's rejoinder. + +"_Cowardly_, Gary?" — said somebody near; and I saw a cadet whom +I did not know, who came from behind us and passed by on the +piazza. He did not look at us, and stayed not for any more +words; but turning to Preston, I was surprised to see his face +violently flushed. + +"Who was that?" + +"No matter — impertinence!" he muttered. + +"But what _is_ the matter? and what did he mean?" + +"He is one of Thorold's set," said Preston; "and I tell you, +Daisy, you shall not have anything to do with them. Aunt +Felicia would never allow it. She would not look at them +herself. You shall not have anything more to do with them." + +How could I, if I was going no more to the hops? How could I +see Thorold, or anybody? The thought struck to my heart, and I +made no answer. Company, however, kept me from considering the +matter all the evening. + +But the next day, early, I was in my usual place; near the +river side, among the rocks, with my Bible; and I resolved to +settle the question there as it ought to be settled. I was +resolved; but to do what I had resolved, was difficult. For I +wanted to go to the hop that evening very much. Visions of it +floated before me; snatches of music and gleams of light; +figures moving in harmony; words, and looks; and — my own +white little person. All these made a kind of quaint mosaic +with flashes of light on the river, and broad warm bands of +sunshine on the hills, and the foliage of trees and bushes, +and the grey lichened rocks at my foot. It was confusing; but +I turned over the leaves of my Bible to see if I could find +some undoubted direction as to what I ought to do, or perhaps +rather some clear permission for what I wished to do. I could +not remember that the Bible said anything about dancing, _pro_ +or _con_; dancing, I thought, could not be wrong; but this +confusion in my mind was not right. I fluttered over my leaves +a good while with no help; than I thought I might as well take +a chapter somewhere and study it through. The whole chapter, +it was the third of Colossians, did not seem to me to go +favourably for my pleasure; but the seventeenth verse brought +me to a point, — "Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in +the name of the Lord Jesus." + +There was no loophole here for excuses or getting off, +"_Whatsoever ye do_." Did I wish it otherwise? No, I did not. I +was content with the terms of service; but now about dancing, +or rather the dancing party? "In the name of the Lord Jesus." +Could I go there in that name? as the servant of my Master, +busy about His work, or taking pleasure that He had given me +to take? That was the question. And all my visions of gay +words and gay scenes, all the flutter of pleased vanity and +the hope of it, rose up and answered me. By that thought of +the pretty dress I would wear, I knew I should not wear it "in +the name of the Lord Jesus;" for my thought was of honour to +myself, not to Him. By the fear which darted into my head, +that Mr. Thorold might dance with Faustina if I were not +there, I knew I should not go "in the name of the Lord," if I +went; but to gratify my own selfish pride and emulation. By +the confusion which had reigned in my brain these two days, by +the tastelessness of my Bible, by the unaptness for prayer, I +knew, I knew, I could not go in the name of my Lord, for it +would be to unfit myself for his work. + +The matter was settled in one way; but the pain of it took +longer to come to an end. It is sorrowful to me to remember +now how hard it was to get over. My vanity I was heartily +ashamed of, and bade that show its head no more; my emulation +of Faustina St. Clair gave me some horror; but the pleasure, — +the real honest pleasure, of the scene and the music and the +excitement and the dancing and the seeing people, — all that, +I did not let go forever without a hard time of sorrow and +some tears. It was not a _struggle_, for I gave that up at once; +only I had to fight pain. — It was one of the hardest things I +ever did in my life. And the worst of all and the, most +incurable was, I should miss seeing Mr. Thorold. One or two +more walks, possibly, I might have with him; but those long, +short, evenings of seeing and talking and dancing! + +Mrs. Sandford argued, coaxed, and rallied me; and then said, +if I would not go, she should not; and she did not. That +evening we spent at home together, and alone; for everybody +else had drifted over to the hop. I suppose Mrs. Sandford +found it dull; for the next hop night she changed her mind and +left me. I had rather a sorrowful evening. Dr. Sandford had +not come back from the mountains; indeed I did not wish for +him; and Thorold had not been near us for several days. My +fairyland was getting disenchanted a little bit. But I was +quite sure I had done right. + +The next morning I had hardly been three minutes on my rock by +the river, when Mr. Thorold came round the turn of the walk +and took a seat beside me. + +"How do you do?" said he, stretching out his hand. I put mine +in it. + +"What has become of my friend, this seven years?" + +"I am here —" I said. + +"I see you. But why have I not _seen_ you, all this while?" + +"I supposed you had been busy," I answered. + +"Busy! Of course I have, or I should have been here asking +questions. I was not too busy to dance with you; and I was +promised — how many dances? Where have you been?" + +"I have been at home." + +"Why?" + +Would Mr. Thorold understand me? Mrs. Sandford did not. My own +mother never did. I hesitated, and he repeated his question, +and those hazel eyes were sparkling all sorts of queries +around me. + +"I have given up going to the hops," I said. + +"Given up? Do you mean, you _don't_ mean, that you are never +coming any more?" + +"I am not coming any more." + +"Don't you sometimes change your decisions?" + +"I suppose I do," I answered; "but not this one." + +"I am in a great puzzle," he said. "And very sorry. Aren't you +going to be so good as to give me some clue to this mystery? +Did you find the hops so dull?" + +And he looked very serious indeed. + +"O no! —" I said. "I liked them very much — I enjoyed them +very much. I am sorry to stay away." + +"Then you will not stay away very long." + +"Yes — I shall." + +"Why?" — he asked again, with a little sort of imperative +curiosity which was somehow very pleasant to me. + +"I do not think it is right for me to go," I said. Then, +seeing grave astonishment and great mystification in his face, +I added, "I am a Christian, Mr. Thorold." + +"A Christian!" he cried, with flashes of light and shadow +crossing his brow. "Is _that_ it?" + +"That is it," I assented. + +"But, my dear Miss Randolph — you know we are friends?" + +"Yes," I said, smiling, and glad that he had not forgotten it. + +"Then we may talk about what we like. Christians go to hops." + +I looked at him without answering. + +"Don't you know they do?" + +"I suppose they may," — I answered slowly. + +"But they _do_. There was our former colonel's wife — Mrs. Holt; +she was a regular church-goer, and a member of the church; she +was always at the hop, and her sister; they are both church +members. Mrs. Lambkin, General Lambkin's wife, she is another. +Major Banks's sisters — those pretty girls, — they are always +there; and it is the same with visitors. Everybody comes; +their being Christians does not make any difference." + +"Captain Thorold," said I, — "I mean Mr. Thorold, don't you +obey your orders?" + +"Yes — generally," he said. And he laughed. + +"So must I." + +"You are not a soldier." + +"Yes — I am." + +"Have you got orders not to come to our hop?" + +"I think I have. You will not understand me, but this is what +I mean, Mr. Thorold. I _am_ a soldier, of another sort from you; +and I have orders not to go anywhere that my Captain does not +send me or where I cannot be serving Him." + +"I wish you would show those orders to me." + +I gave him the open page which I had been studying, that same +chapter of Colossians, and pointed out the words. He looked at +them, and turned over the page, and turned it back. + +"I don't see the orders," he said. + +I was silent. I had not expected he would. + +"And I was going to say, I never saw any Christians that were +soldiers; but I have, one. And so you are another?" And he +bent upon me a look so curiously considering, tender, and +wondering, at once, that I could not help smiling. + +"A soldier!" said he, again, — "You? Have you ever been under +fire?" + +I smiled again, and then, I don't know what it was. I cannot +tell what, in the question and in the look, touched some weak +spot. The question called up such sharp answers; the look +spoke so much sympathy. It was very odd for me to do; but I +was taken unawares; my eyes fell and filled, and before I +could help it were more than full. I do not know, to this day, +how — I came to cry before Thorold. It was very soon over, my +weakness, whatever it was. It seemed to touch him amazingly. +He got hold of my hand, put it to his lips, and kissed it over +and over, outside and inside. + +"I can see it all in your face!" he said, tenderly; "the +strength and the truth to do anything, and bear — whatever is +necessary. But I am not so good as you. I cannot bear anything +unless it _is_ necessary; and this isn't." + +"Oh, no, nor I!" I said; "but this is necessary, Mr. Thorold." + +"Prove it — come." + +"You do not see the orders," I said; "but there they are. 'Do +all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' I cannot go to that place +'in His name.' " + +"I do not think I understand what you mean," he said, gently. +"A soldier, the best that ever lived, is his own man when he +is off duty. We go to the hop to play — not to work." + +"Ah, but a soldier of Christ is never 'off duty,' " I said. +"See, Mr. Thorold — '_whatsoever_ ye do' — 'whether ye eat or +drink or whatsoever ye do' — That covers all; don't you see?" + +"That would make it a very heavy thing to be a Christian," he +said; "there would be no liberty at all." + +"Oh, but it is all liberty!" I said. — "When you love Jesus." + +He looked at me so enquiringly, so inquisitively, that I went +on. + +"You do not think it hard to do things for anybody you love?" + +"No," said he. "I would like to do things for you." + +I remember I smiled at that, for it seemed to me very pleasant +to hear him say it; but I went on. + +"Then you understand it, Mr. Thorold." + +"No," said he, "I do not understand it; for there is this +difficulty. I do not see what in the world such an innocent +amusement as that we are talking of, can have to do with +Christian duty, one way or another. Every Christian woman that +I know comes to it, — that is young enough; and some that +aren't." + +It was very hard to explain. + +"Suppose they disobey orders," I said slowly; — "that would be +another reason why I should obey them." + +"Of course. But do they?" + +"I should," I said. "I am not serving Christ when I am there. +I am not doing the work He has given me to do. I cannot go." + +"I came down here on purpose to persuade you," he said. + +It was not necessary to answer that, otherwise than by a look. + +"And you are unpersuadable," he said; "unmanageable, of +course, by me; strong as a giant, and gentle as a snowflake. +But the snowflake melts; and you — you will go up to the hotel +as good a crystal as when you came down." + +This made me laugh, and we had a good laugh together, holding +each other's hand. + +"Do you know," said he, "I must go? There is a roll of a +summons that reaches my ear, and I must be at the top of the +bank in one minute and a quarter. I had no leave to be here." + +"Hadn't you?" I said. "Oh, then, go, go directly, Mr. +Thorold!" + +But I could not immediately release, my hand, and holding it +and looking at me Thorold laughed again; his hazel eyes +sparkling and dancing and varying with what feelings I could +not tell. They looked very steadily, too, till I remember mine +went down, and then, lifting his cap, he turned suddenly and +sprang away. I sat down to get breath and think. + +I had come to my place rather sober and sorrowful; and what a +pleasant morning I had had! I did not mind at all, now, my not +going to the dances. I had explained myself to Mr. Thorold, +and we were not any further apart for it, and I had had a +chance to speak to him about other things too. And though he +did not understand me, perhaps he would some day. The warning +gong sounded before I had well got to my Bible reading. My +Bible reading was very pleasant this morning, and I could not +be balked of it; so I spent over it near the whole half hour +that remained, and rushed up to the hotel in the last five +minutes. Of course I was rather late and quite out of breath; +and having no voice and being a little excited, I suppose was +the reason that I curtseyed to Dr. Sandford, whom I met at the +head of the piazza steps. He looked at me like a man taken +aback. + +"Daisy!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes, sir," I answered. + +"Where have you come from?" + +"From my study," I said. "I have a nice place down by the +river which is my study." + +"Rather a public situation for a private withdrawing place," +said the doctor. + +"Oh, no!" said I. "At this hour —" But there I stopped and +began again. "It is really very private. And it is the +pleasantest study place I think I ever had." + +"To study what?" + +I held up my book. + +"It agrees with you," said the doctor. + +"What?" said I, laughing. + +"Daisy!" said Dr. Sandford — "I left a quiet bud of a flower a +few days ago — a little demure bit of a schoolgirl, learning +geology; and I have got a young princess here, a full rose, +prickles and all, I don't doubt. What has Mrs. Sandford done +with you?" + +"I do not know," said I, thinking I had better be demure +again. "She took me to the hop." + +"The hop? — How did you like that?" + +"I liked it very much." + +"You did? You liked it? I did not know that you would go, with +your peculiar notions." + +"I went," I said; "I did not know what it was. How could I +help liking it? But I am not going again." + +"Why not, if you liked it?" + +"I am not going again," I repeated. "Shall we have a walk to +the hills to-day, Dr. Sandford?" + +"Grant!" said his sister-in-law's voice, "don't you mean the +child shall have any breakfast? What made you so late, Daisy? +Come in, and talk afterwards. Grant is uneasy if he can't see +at least your shadow all the while." + +We went in to breakfast, and I took a delightful walk with Dr. +Sandford afterward, back in the ravines of the hills; but I +had got an odd little impression of two things. First, that +he, like Preston, was glad to have me give up going to the +hops. I was sure of it from his air and tone of voice, and it +puzzled me; for he could not possibly have Preston's dislike +of Northerners, nor be unwilling that I should know them. The +other thing was, that he would not like my seeing Mr. Thorold. +I don't know how I knew it, but I knew it. I thought — it was +very odd — but I thought he was _jealous;_ or rather, I felt he +would be if he had any knowledge of our friendship for each +other. So I resolved he should have no such knowledge. + +Our life went on now as it had done at our first coming. Every +day Dr. Sandford and I went to the woods and hills, on a +regular naturalist's expedition; and nothing is so pleasant as +such expeditions. At home, we were busy with microscopic +examinations, preparations, and studies; delightful studies, +and beautiful lessons, in which the doctor was the finest of +instructors, as I have said, and I was at least the happiest +of scholars. Mrs. Sandford fumed a little, and Mr. Sandford +laughed; but that did no harm. Everybody went to the hops, +except the doctor and me; and every morning and evening, at +guard-mounting and at parade, I was on the ground behind the +guard tents to watch the things done and listen to the music +and enjoy all the various beauty. Sometimes I had a glimpse of +Thorold; for many both of cadets and officers used to come and +speak to me and rally me on my seclusion, and endeavour to +tempt me out of it. Thorold did not that; he only looked at +me, as if I were something to be a little wondered at but +wholly approved of. It was not a disagreeable look to meet. + +"I must have it out with you," he said one evening, when he +had just a minute to speak to me. "There is a whole world, of +things I don't understand, and want to talk about. Let us go +Saturday afternoon and take a good, long walk up to 'Number +Four' — do you like hills?" + +"Yes." + +"Then let us go up there Saturday — will you?" + +And when Saturday came, we went. Preston luckily was not on +hand; and Dr. Sandford, also luckily, was gone to dine at the +General's with his brother. There were no more shadows on +earth than there were clouds in the sky, as we took our way +across the plain and along the bank in front of the officers' +quarters looking north, and went out at the gate. Then we left +civilisation and the world behind us, and plunged into a wild +mountain region; going up by a track which few feet ever used, +the rough slope to "Number Four." Yet that a few feet used it +was plain. + +"Do people come here to walk, much?" I asked, as we slowly +made our way up. + +"Nobody comes here — for anything." + +"Somebody _goes_ here," I said. "This is a beaten path." + +"Oh, there is a poor woodcutter's family at the top; they do +travel up and down occasionally." + +"It is pretty," I said. + +"It is pretty at the top; but we are a long way from that. Is +it too rough for you?" + +"Not at all," I said. "I like it." + +"You are a good walker, for a Southern girl." + +"Oh, but I have lived at the North," I said; "I am only +Southern born." + +Soon, however, he made me stop to rest. There was a good grey +rock under the shadow of the trees; Thorold placed me on that +and threw himself on the moss at my feet. We were up so high +in the world that the hills on the other side of the river +rose beautifully before us through the trees, and a sunny bit +of the lower ground of the plain looked like a bit of another +world that we were leaving. It was a sunny afternoon and a +little hazy; every line softened, every colour made richer +under the mellowing atmosphere. + +"Now you can explain it all to me," said Thorold, as he threw +himself down. "You have walked too fast. You are warm." + +"And you do not look as if it was warm at all." + +"I! This is nothing to me," he said. "But perhaps it will +warm me and cool you, if we get into a talk. I want +explanations." + +"About what, Mr. Thorold?" + +"Well — if you will excuse me — about you," he said, with a +very pleasant look, frank and soft at once. + +"I am quite ready to explain myself," I said. "But I am +afraid, when I have done it, that you will not understand me, +Mr. Thorold." + +"Think I cannot?" said he. + +"I am afraid not, — without knowing what I know." + +"Let us see," said Thorold. "I want to know why you judge so +differently from other people about the right and the wrong of +hops and such things. Somebody is mistaken — that is clear." + +"But the difficulty is, I cannot give you my point of view." + +"Please try —" said Thorold contentedly, resting his elbow in +a soft cushion of moss. + +"Mr. Thorold, I told you, I am a soldier." + +"Yes," he said, looking up at me, and little sparkles of light +seeming to come out of his hazel eyes. + +"I showed you my orders." + +"But I did not understand them to be what you said." + +"Suppose you were in an enemy's country," I said; — "a rebel +country; and your orders were, to do nothing which could be +construed into encouraging the rebels, or which could help +them to think that your king would hold friendship with them, +or that there was not a perfect gulf of division between you +and them." + +"But this is not such a case?" said Thorold. + +"That is only part," I said. "Suppose your orders were, to +keep constant watch and hold yourself at every minute ready +for duty, and to go nowhere and do nothing that would unfit +you for instant service, or put you off your watch." + +"But, Miss Randolph!" said Thorold, a little impatiently — "do +these little dances unfit you for duty?" + +"Yes," I said. "And put me off my watch." + +"Your watch against what? Oh, pardon me! and _please_ enlighten +me. I do not mean to be impertinent." + +"I mean my watch for orders — my watch against evil." + +"Won't you explain?" said Thorold, gently and impatiently at +once. "What sort of evil can _you_ possibly fear, in connection +with such an innocent little recreation? What sort of 'orders' +are you expecting?" + +I hesitated. Should I tell him? would he believe? was it best +to unveil the working of my own heart to that degree? And how +could I evade or shirk the question? + +"I should not like to tell you," I said at length, "the +thoughts and feelings I found stirring in myself, after the +last time I went to the hop. I dare say they are something +that belongs especially to a woman, and that a man would not +know them." + +Thorold turned on me again a wonderfully gentle look, for a +gay fiery young Vermonter, as I knew him to be. + +"It wanted only that!" he said. — "And the orders, Miss +Randolph — what 'orders' are you expecting? You said, orders." + +"Orders may be given by a sign," I said. "They need not be in +words." + +He smiled. "I see, you have studied the subject." + +"I mean, only, that whenever a duty is plainly put before me — +something given me to do — I know I have 'orders' to do it. +And then, Mr. Thorold, as the orders are not spoken, nor +brought to me by a messenger, only made known to me by a sign +of some sort, — if I did not keep a good watch, I should be +sure to miss the sign sometimes, don't you see?" + +"This is soldiership!" said Thorold. And getting up, he stood +before me in attitude like a soldier as he was, erect, still, +with arms folded, only not up to his chin like Captain +Percival, but folded manfully. He had been watching me very +intently; now he stood as intently looking off over the +further landscape. Methought I had a sort of pride in his fine +appearance; and yet he did in no wise belong to me. +Nevertheless it was pleasant to see, the firm, still attitude, +the fine proportions, the military nicety of all his dress, +which I had before noticed on the parade ground. For as there +is a difference between one walk and another, though all +trained; so there is a difference between one neatness and +another, though all according to regulation; and Preston never +looked like this. + +He turned round at last, and smiled down at me. + +"Are you rested?" + +"Oh, yes!" I said, rising. "I was not fatigued." + +"Are you tired talking?" + +"No, not at all. Have I talked so very much?" + +He laughed at that, but went on. + +"Will you be out of patience with my stupidity?" + +I said no. + +"Because I am not fully enlightened yet. I want to ask further +questions; and asking questions is very impertinent." + +"Not if you have leave," I said. "Ask what you like." + +"I am afraid, nevertheless. But I can never know, if I do not +ask. How is it — this is what puzzles me, — that other people +who call themselves Christians do not think as you think about +all this matter?" + +"Soldiership?" I asked. + +"Well, yes. It comes to that, I suppose." + +"You know what soldiership ought to be," I said. + +"But one little soldier cannot be all the rank and file of +this army?" he said, looking down at me. + +"Oh, no!" I said, laughing, — "there are a great many more, — +there are a great many more, — only you do not happen to see +them." + +"And these others, that I do see, are not soldiers then?" + +"I do not know," I said, feeling sadly what a stumbling block +it was. "Perhaps. they are. But you know yourself, Mr. +Thorold, there is a difference between soldiers and soldiers." + +He was silent a while, as we mounted the hill, and then +suddenly broke out again. + +"But it makes religion a slavery — a bondage — to be _all_ the +while under arms, on guard, watching orders. _Always_ on the +watch and expecting to be under fire — it is too much; it +would make a gloomy, ugly life of it." + +"But suppose you _are_ under fire?" I said. + +"What?" said he, looking and laughing again. + +"If you are a good soldier in an enemy's country, always with +work to do; will you wish to be off your guard, or off duty?" + +"But what a life!" said Thorold. + +"If you love your Captain?" said I. + +He stopped and looked at me with one of the keenest looks of +scrutiny I ever met. It seemed to scrutinise not me only, but +the truth. I thought he was satisfied; for he turned away +without adding anything more at that time. His mind was at +work, however; for he broke down a small branch in his way and +busied himself with it in sweeping the trunks of the trees as +we went by; varying the occupation with a careful clearing +away of all stones and sticks that would make my path rougher +than it need be. Finally, giving me his hand to help me spring +over a little rivulet that crossed our way. + +"Here is an incongruity, now I think of it," said he, smiling. +"How is it that you can be on such good terms with a rebel? +Ought you to have anything to do with me?" + +"I may be friends with anybody in his private capacity," I +answered in the same tone. "That does not compromise anything. +It is only when — You know what I mean." + +"When they are assembled for doubtful purposes." + +"Or gathered in a place where the wrong colours are +displayed," I added. "I must not go there." + +"There was no false banner hung out on the Academic Building +the other night," he said humorously. + +But I knew my King's banner was not either. I knew, people did +not think of Him there, nor work for Him, and would have been +very much surprised to hear any one speak of Him. Say it was +innocent amusement; people did not want Him with them there; +and where He was not, I did not wish to be. But I could not +tell all this to Mr. Thorold. He was not contented, however, +without an answer. + +"How was it?" he asked. + +"You cannot understand me," I said, "and you may laugh at me." + +"Why may I not understand you?" he said gently, with the +utmost deference of manner. + +"I suppose, because you do not understand something else," I +said; "and you cannot, Mr. Thorold, until you know what the +love of Jesus is, and what it is to care for His honour and +His service more than for anything else in the world." + +"But are they compromised?" he asked. "That is the thing. You +see, I want you back at the hop." + +"I would like to come," said I; "but I must not." + +"On the ground —?" + +"I told you, Mr. Thorold. I do not find that my orders allow +me to go there. I must do nothing that I cannot do in my +King's name." + +"That is —" + +"As His servant — on His errands — following where He leads +me." + +"I never heard it put so before," said Thorold. "It bears the +stamp of perfection — only an impossible perfection." + +"No —" said I. + +"To ordinary mortals," he rejoined, with one of his quick +brilliant flashes of the eye. Then as it softened and changed +again, — + +"Miss Randolph, permit me to ask a not irrelevant question — +Are you happy?" + +And with the inquiry came the investigating look, keen as a +razor or a rifle ball. I could meet it though; and I told him, +it was _this_ made me happy. For the first time his face was +troubled. He turned it from me and dropped the conversation. I +let it drop too; and we walked side by side and silently the +remainder of the steep way; neither of us, I believe, paying +much attention to what there was to be seen below or around +us. At the top however this changed. We found a good place to +rest, and sat there a long time looking at the view; Thorold +pointing out its different features, and telling me about them +in detail; his visits to them, and exploration of the region +generally. And we planned imaginary excursions together; one +especially to the top of the Crow's Nest, with an imaginary +party, to see the sun rise. We would have to go up of course +over night; we must carry a tent along for shelter, and camp +beds, and cooking utensils, at least a pot to boil coffee; and +plenty of warm wraps and plenty of provisions, for people +always eat terribly in cold regions, Thorold said. And +although the top of the Crow's Nest is not Arctic by any +means, still it is cool enough even in a warm day, and would +be certainly cool at night. Also the members of our party we +debated; they must be people of good tempers and travelling +habits, not to be put out for a little; people with large +tastes for enjoyment, to whom the glory of the morning would +make amends for all the toil of the night; and good talkers, +to keep up the tone of the whole thing. Meanwhile, Thorold and +I heartily enjoyed Number Four; as also I did his explanations +of fortifications, which I drew from him and made him apply to +all the fortifications in sight or which I knew. And when the +sun's westing told us it was time to go home, we went down all +the way talking. I have but little remembrance of the path. +The cool bright freshness of the light in the trees, and its +brilliant gleams in the distance after it had left our +hillside, — I remember that. I have an impression of the calm +clear beauty that was under foot and overhead, that afternoon; +but I saw it only as I could see it while giving my thought to +something else. Sometimes, holding hands, we took runs down +the mountain side; then walked demurely again when we got to +easier going. We had come to the lower region at last and were +not far from the gate, talking earnestly and walking close +together, when I saw Thorold touch his cap. I do not know what +made me ask, "Was that anybody I knew?". + +"I believe it was your friend Dr. Sandford," he said, smiling +into my face with a smile of peculiar expression and peculiar +beauty. I saw something had pleased him, pleased him very +much. It could not have been Dr. Sandford. I cannot say I was +pleased, as I had an intuitive assurance the doctor was not. +But Thorold's smile almost made amends. + +That evening the doctor informed us he had got intelligence +which obliged him to leave the Point immediately; and as he +could go with us part of the way to Niagara, we had better all +set off together. I had lost all my wish to go to Niagara; but +I said nothing. Mrs. Sandford said there was nothing to be +gained by staying at the Point any longer, as I would not go +to the hops. So Monday morning we went away. + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +SOUTH AND NORTH. + + +We made a round of pleasure after leaving West Point. That is, +it was a round of pleasure to the rest of the party. I had +left my best pleasure behind me. Certainly I enjoyed Catskill, +and Trenton Falls, and Niagara, after some sort; but there was +nothing in them all like my walk to Number Four. West Point +had enough natural beauty to satisfy; any one, I thought, even +for all summer; and there I had besides what I had not +elsewhere and never had before, a companion. All my earlier +friends were far older than I, or beneath me in station. +Preston was the single exception; and Preston and I were now +widely apart in our sympathies; indeed always had been. Mr. +Thorold and I talked to each other on a level; we understood +each other and suited each other. I could let out my thoughts +to him with a freedom I never could use with anybody else. + +It grieved me a little that I had been forced to come away so +abruptly that I had no chance of letting him know. Courtesy, I +thought, demanded of me that I should have done this; and I +could not do it; and this was a constant subject of regret to +me. + +At the end of our journey I came back to school. Letters from +my father and mother desired that I would do so, and appointed +that I was to join them abroad next year. My mother had +decided that it was best not to interfere with the regular +course of my education; and my father renewed his promise that +I should have any reward I chose to claim, to comfort me for +the delay. So I bent myself to study with new energies and new +hope. + +I studied more things than school books that winter. The bits +of political matter I had heard talked over at West Point were +by no means forgotten; and once in a while, when I had time +and a chance, I seized one of the papers from Mme. Ricard's +library table and examined it. And every time I did so, +something urged me to do it again. I was very ignorant. I had +no clue to a great deal that was talked of in these prints; +but I could perceive the low threatening growl of coming ill +weather, which seemed to rise on the ear every time I +listened. And a little anxiety began to grow up in my mind. +Mme. Ricard, of course, never spoke on these subjects and +probably did not care about them. Dr. Sandford was safe in +Washington. I once asked Miss Cardigan what she thought. +"There are evil men abroad, dear," she said. "I don't know +what they will be permitted to do." + +"Who do you hope will be elected?" I asked. + +"I don't vote myself," said Miss Cardigan; "so I do not fash +myself much with what I can't help; but I hope the man will be +elected that will do the right thing." + +"And who is that?" I asked. "You do not want slavery to be +allowed in the territories?" + +"I? Not I!" said Miss Cardigan. "And if the people want to +keep it out of them, I suppose they will elect Abraham +Lincoln. I don't know if he is the right man or no; but he is +on the right side. 'Break every yoke, and let the oppressed go +free.' That is my maxim, Daisy." + +I pondered this matter by turns more and more. By and by there +began to be audible mutterings of a storm in the air around +me. The first I heard was when we were all together in the +evening with our work, the half hour before tea. + +"Lincoln is elected" — whispered one of the girls to another. + +"Who cares?" the other said aloud. + +"What if he is?" asked a third. + +"Then," said a gentle, graceful looking girl, spreading her +embroidery out on her lap with her slim white fingers, — "_then_ +there'll be fighting." + +It was given, this announcement, with the coolest matter-of- +fact assurance. + +"Who is going to fight?" was the next question. + +The former speaker gave a glance up to see if her audience was +safe, and then replied as coolly as before. + +"My brother, for one." + +"What for, Sally?" + +"Do you think we are going to have these vulgar Northerners +rule over us? My cousin Marshall is coming back from Europe on +purpose that he may be here and be ready. I know my aunt wrote +him word that she would disinherit him if he did not." + +"Daisy Randolph — you are a Southerner," said one of the +girls. + +"Of course, she is a Southerner," said Sally, going on with +her embroidery. "She is safe." + +But if I was safe, I was very uncomfortable. I hardly knew why +I was so uncomfortable. Only, I wished ardently that troubles +might not break out between the two quarters of the country. I +had a sense that the storm would come near home. I could not +recollect my mother and my father, without a dread that there +would be opposing electricities between them and me. + +I began to study the daily news more constantly and carefully. +I had still the liberty of Mme.'s library, and the papers were +always there. I could give to them only a few minutes now and +then; but I felt that the growl of the storm was coming nearer +and growing more threatening. Extracts from Southern papers +seemed to me very violent and very wrong-headed; at the same +time I knew that my mother would endorse them and Preston +would echo them. Then South Carolina passed the ordinance of +secession. Six days after, Major Anderson took possession of +Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbour, and immediately the fort he +had left and Castle Pinckney were garrisoned by the South +Carolinians in opposition. I could not tell how much all this +signified; but my heart began to give a premonitory beat +sometimes. Mississippi followed South Carolina; then United +States' forts and Arsenals were seized in North Carolina and +Georgia, and Alabama, one after the other. The tone of the +press was very threatening, at least of the Southern press. +And not less significant, to my ear, was the whisper I +occasionally heard among a portion of our own little +community. A secret whisper, intense in its sympathy with the +seceding half of the nation, contemptuously hostile to the +other part, among whom they were at that very moment receiving +Northern education and Northern kindness. The girls even +listened and gathered scraps of conversation that passed in +their hearing, to retail them in letters sent home; "they did +not know," they said, "what might be of use." Later, some of +these letters were intercepted by the General Government and +sent back from Washington to Mme. Ricard. All this told me +much of the depth and breadth of feeling among the community +of which these girls formed a part; and my knowledge of my own +father and mother, aunt Gary and Preston, and others, told me +more. I began to pray that God would not let war come in the +land. + +Then there was a day, in January I think, when a bit of public +news was read out in presence of the whole family; a thing +that rarely happened. It was evening, and we were all in the +parlour with our work. I forget who was the reader, but I +remember the words. " 'The steamer, "Star of the West," with +two hundred and fifty United States troops on board for Fort +Sumter, was fired into' (I forget the day) 'by the batteries +near Charleston.' Young ladies, do you hear that? The steamer +was fired into. That is the beginning." + +We looked at each other, we girls; startled, sorry, awed, with +a strange glance of defiance from some eyes, while some flowed +over with tears, and some were eager with a feeling that was +not displeasure. All were silent at first. Then whispers +began. + +"I told you so," said Sally. + +"Well, _they_ have begun it," said Macy, who was a new York +girl. + +"Of course. What business had the 'Star of the West' to be +carrying those troops there? South Carolina can take care of +her own forts." + +"Daisy Randolph, you look as solemn as a preacher," said +another. "Which side are you on?" + +"She is on the right side," said another. + +"Of course," said Sally. "She is the daughter of a Southern +gentleman!" + +"I am not on the side of those who fire the first shot," I +said. + +"There is no other way," said Sally, coolly. "If a rat comes +in your way, you must shoot him. I knew it had got to come. I +have heard my uncle talk enough about that." + +"But what will be the end of it?" said another. + +"Pooh! it will end like smoke. The Yankees do not like +fighting — they would rather be excused if you please. Their +_forte_ is quite in another line — out of the way of powder." + +I wondered if that was true. I thought of Thorold, and of +Major Blunt. I was troubled; and when I went to see Miss +Cardigan, next day, I found she could give me little comfort. + +"I don't know, my dear," she said, "what they may be left to +do. They're just daft down there; clean daft." + +"If they fight, we shall be obliged to fight," I said, not +liking to ask her about Northern courage; and, indeed, she was +a Scotswoman, and what should she know? + +"Ay, just that," she replied; "and fighting between the two +parts of one land is even the worst fighting there can be. +Pray it may not come, Daisy; but those people are just daft." + +The next letters from my mother spoke of my coming out to them +as soon as the school year should be over. The country was +likely to be disturbed, she said; and it would not suit with +my father's health to come home just now. As soon as the +school year should be over, and Dr. Sandford could find a +proper opportunity for me to make the journey, I should come. + +I was very glad; yet I was not all glad. I wished they could +have come to me rather. I was not, I hardly knew why I was +not, quite ready to quit America while these troubles +threatened. And as days went on, and the cloud grew blacker, +my feeling of unwillingness increased. The daily prints were +full of fresh instances of the seizure of United States +property, of the secession of new States; then the Secession +Congress met, and elected Jefferson Davis and Alexander +Stephens their President and Vice President; and rebellion was +duly organised. + +Jefferson Davis! How the name took me back to the summer +parade on the West Point plain, and my first view of that +smooth, sinister, ill-conditioned face. Now he was heading +rebellion. Where would Dr. Sandford, and Mr. Thorold, and +Preston be? How far would the rebels carry their work? and +what opposition would be made to it? Again I asked Miss +Cardigan. + +"It's beyond _me_, Daisy," she said. "I suppose it will depend +very much on whether we've got the right man to head us or no; +and that nobody can tell till we try. This man Buchanan, that +is over us at present, he is no better than a bit of cotton +wool. I am going to take a look at Mr. Lincoln as he comes +through, and see what I think of him. + +"When is he coming?" + +"They say, to-day," said Miss Cardigan. "There'll be an +uncommon crowd; but I'll risk it." + +A great desire seized me, that I might see him too. I +consulted with Miss Cardigan. School hours were over at three; +I could get away then, I thought; and by studying the +programme of the day we found it possible that it would not be +too late then for our object. So it proved; and I have always +been glad of it ever since. + +Miss Cardigan and I went forth and packed ourselves in the +dense crowd which had gathered and filled all the way by which +the President elect was expected to pass. A quiet and orderly +and most respectable crowd it was. Few Irish, few of the +miserable of society, who come out only for a spectacle; these +were the yeomanry and the middle classes, men of business, men +of character and some substance, who were waiting like us, to +see what promise for the future there might be in the aspect +of our new Chief. Waiting patiently; and we could only wait +patiently like them. I thought of Preston's indignation if he +could have seen me, and Dr. Sandford's ready negative on my +being there, but well were these thoughts put to flight when +the little cavalcade for which we were looking hove in sight +and drew near. Intense curiosity and then profound +satisfaction seized me. The strong, grave, kindly lineaments +of the future Head of the Country, gave me instantly a feeling +of confidence, which I never lost in all the time that +followed. That was confidence in his honesty and goodness; but +another sort of trust was awakened by the keen, searching. +shrewd glances of those dark eyes, which seemed to penetrate +the masses of human intelligences surrounding him, and seek to +know what manner of _material_ he might find them at need. He +was not thinking of himself, that was plain; and the homely, +expressive features got a place in my heart from that time. +The little cavalcade passed on from us; the crowd melted away, +and Miss Cardigan and I came slowly again up Fifth Avenue. + +"Yon's a mon!" quoth Miss Cardigan, speaking as she did in +moments of strong feeling, with a little reminder of her +Scottish origin. + +"Didn't you like him?" I rejoined. + +"I always like a man when I see him," said my friend. "He had +need be that too, for, he has got a man's work to do." + +And it soon appeared that she spoke true. I watched every +action, and weighed every word of Mr. Lincoln now, with a +strange interest. I thought great things depended on him. I +was glad when he determined to send supplies into Fort Sumter. +I was sure that he was right; but I held my breath as it were +to see what South Carolina would do. The twelfth of April told +us. + +"So they have done it, Daisy!" said Miss Cardigan, that +evening. "They are doing it, rather. They have been firing at +each other all day." + +"Well, Major Anderson must defend his fort," I said. "That is +his duty." + +"No doubt," said Miss Cardigan; "but you look pale, Daisy, my +bairn. You are from those quarters yourself. Is there anybody +in that neighbourhood that is dear to you?" + +I had the greatest difficulty not to burst into tears, by way +of answer, and Miss Cardigan looked concerned at me. I told +her there was nobody there I cared for, except some poor +coloured people who were in no danger. + +"There'll be many a sore heart in the country if this goes +on," she said, with a sigh. + +"But it will not go on, will it?" I asked. "They cannot take +Fort Sumter, do you think so?" + +"I know little about it," said my friend, soberly. "I am no +soldier. And we never know what is best, Daisy. We must trust +the Lord, my dear, to unravel these confusions." + +And the next night the little news-boys in the streets were +crying out the "Fall of Fort Sum — ter!" It rang ominously in +my heart. The rebels had succeeded so far; and they would go +on. Yes, they would go on now, I felt assured; unless some +very serious check should be given them. Could the Yankees +give that? I doubted it. Yet _their_ cause was the cause of +right, and justice, and humanity; but the right does _not_ +always at first triumph, whatever it may do in the end; and +good swords, and good shots, and the spirit of a soldier, are +things that are allowed to carry their force with them. I knew +the South had these. What had the North? + +Even in our school seclusion, we felt the breath of the +tremendous excitement which swayed the public mind next day. +Not bluster, nor even passion, but the stir of the people's +heart. As we walked to church, we could hear it in half-caught +words of those we passed by, see it in the grave, intense air +which characterised groups and faces; feel it in the +atmosphere, which was heavy with indignation and gathering +purpose. It was said, no Sunday like that had been known in +the city. Within our own little community, if parties ran +high, they were like those outside, quiet; but when alone, the +Southern girls testified an exultation that jarred painfully +upon my ears. + +"Daisy don't care." + +"Yes, I care," I said. + +"For shame not to be glad! You see, it is glorious. We have it +all our own way. The impertinence of trying to hold our forts +for us!" + +"I don't see anything glorious in fighting," I said. + +"Not when you are attacked?" + +"We were not attacked," I said. "South Carolina fired the +first guns." + +"Good for her!" said Sally. "Brave little South Carolina! +Nobody will meddle with her and come off without cutting his +fingers." + +"Nobody did meddle with her," I asserted. "It was _she_ who +meddled, to break the laws and fight against the government." + +"What government?" said Sally. "Are we slaves, that we should +be ruled by a government we don't choose? We will have our +own. Do you think South Carolina and Virginia _gentlemen_ are +going to live under a rail-splitter for a President? and take +orders from him?" + +"What do you mean by a 'rail-splitter'?" + +"I mean this Abe Lincoln the Northern mudsills have picked up +to make a President of. He used to get his living by splitting +rails for a Western fence, Daisy Randolph." + +"But if he is President, he is President," I said. + +"For those that like him. We won't have him. Jefferson Davis +is my President. And all I can do to help him, I will. I can't +fight; I wish I could. My brother and my cousins and my uncle +will, though, that's one comfort; and what I can do I will." + +"Then I think you are a traitor," I said. + +I was hated among the Southern girls from that day. Hated with +a bitter violent hatred, which had indeed little chance to +show itself, but was manifested in a scornful, intense +avoidance of me. The bitterness of it is surprising to me even +now. I cared not very much for it. I was too much engrossed +with deeper interests of the time, both public and private. +The very next day came the President's call for seventy-five +thousand men; and the next the answer of the governor of +Kentucky, that "Kentucky would furnish no troops for the +wicked purpose of subduing her sister Southern States." I saw +this in the paper in the library; the other girls had no +access to the general daily news, or I knew there would have +been shoutings of triumph over Governor Magoffin. Other +governors of other States followed his example. Jefferson +Davis declared in a proclamation that letters of marque and +reprisal would be issued. Everything wore the aspect of +thickening strife. + +My heart grew very heavy over these signs of evil, fearing I +knew not what for those whom I cared about. Indeed, I would +not stop to think what I feared. I tried to bury my fears in +my work. Letters from my mother became very explicit now; she +said that troublesome times were coming in the country, and +she would like me to be out of it. After a little while, when +the independence of the South should be assured, we would all +come home — and be happy together. Meantime, as soon after the +close of the school year as Dr. Sandford could find a good +chance for me, I was to come out to them at Lausanne, where my +mother thought they would be by that time. + +So I studied with all my strength, with the double motive of +gaining all I could and of forgetting what was going on in the +political World. Music and French, my mother particularly +desired that I should excel in; and I gave many hours to my +piano, as many as possible, and talked with Mlle. Genevieve +whenever she would let me. And she was very fond of me and +fond of talking to me; it was she who kept for me my library +privilege. And my voice was good, as it had promised to be. I +had the pleasure of feeling that I was succeeding in what I +most wished to attain. It was succeeding over the heads of my +school-fellows; and that earned me wages that were not +pleasant among a portion of my companions. Faustina St. Clair +was back among us; she would perhaps have forgiven if she +could have forgotten me; but my headship had been declared +ever since the time of the bronze standish, and even rivalry +had been long out of the question. So the old feud was never +healed; and now, between the unfriendliness of her party and +the defection of all the Southern girls, I was left in a great +minority of popular favour. It could not be helped. I studied +the harder. I had unlimited favour with all my teachers, and +every indulgence I asked for. + +The news of the attack in Baltimore upon the Massachusetts +troops passing through the city, and Governor Andrew's +beautiful telegram, shook me out of my preocupation. It shook +me out of all quiet for a day. Indignation, and fear, and +sorrow, rolled through my heart. The passions that were astir +among men, the mad results to which they were leading, the +possible involvement of several of those whom I loved, a +general trembling of evil in the air, made study difficult for +the moment. What signified the course and fate of nations +hundreds of years ago? Our own course and fate filled the +horizon. What signified the power or beauty of my voice, when +I had not the heart to send it up and down like a bird any +longer? Where was Preston, and Dr. Sandford, and Ransom, and +what would become of Magnolia? In truth I did not know what +had become of Ransom. I had not heard from him or of him in a +long time. But these thoughts would not do. I drove them away. +I resolved to mind my work and not read the papers, if I could +help it, and not think about politics or my friends' course in +them. I could do nothing. And in a few months I should be +away, out of the land. + +I kept my resolve pretty well. Indeed, I think nothing very +particular happened to disturb it for the next two or three +weeks. I succeeded in filling my head with work and being very +happy in it. That is, whenever I could forget more important +things. + +CHAPTER XIX. + +ENTERED FOR THE WAR. + + +One evening, I think before the end of April, I asked +permission to spend the evening at Miss Cardigan's. I had on +hand a piece of study for which I wanted to consult certain +books which I knew were in her library. Mlle. Genevieve gave +me leave gladly. + +"You do study too persevering, m'amie," she said. "Go, and +stop to study for a little while. You are pale. I am afraid +your doctor — _ce bon Monsieur le docteur_ — will scold us all +by and by. Go, and do not study." + +But I determined to have my play and my study too. + +As I passed through Miss Cardigan's hall, the parlour door +standing half open let me see that a gentleman was with her. +Not wishing to interrupt any business that might be going on, +and not caring also to be bored with it myself, I passed by +and went into the inner room where the books were. I would +study now, I thought, and take my pleasure with my dear old +friend by and by when she was at leisure. I found my books, +and had thrown myself down on the floor with one of them; when +a laugh that came from the front room laid a spell upon my +powers of study. The book fell from my hands; I sat bolt +upright, every sense resolved into that of hearing. What and +who had that been? I listened. Another sound of a word spoken, +another slight inarticulate suggestion of laughter; and I knew +with an assured knowledge that my friend Cadet Thorold, and no +other, was the gentleman in Miss Cardigan's parlour with whom +she had business. I sat up and forgot my books. The first +impulse was to go in immediately and show myself. I can hardly +tell what restrained me. I remembered that Miss Cardigan must +have business with him, and I had better not interrupt it. But +those sounds of laughter had not been very business-like, +either. Nor were they business words which came to me next +through the open door. I never thought or knew I was +listening. I only thought it was Thorold, and held my breath +to hear, or rather to feel. My ears seemed sharpened beyond +all their usual faculty. + +"And you haven't gone and fallen in love, callant, meanwhile, +just to complicate affairs?" said the voice of Miss Cardigan. + +"I shall never fall in love," said Thorold, with (I suppose) +mock gravity. His voice sounded so. + +"Why not?" + +"I require too much." + +"It's like your conceit!" said Miss Cardigan. "Now, what is +it that you require? I would like to know; that is, if you +know yourself. It appears you have thought about it." + +"I have thought, till I have got it all by heart," said +Thorold. "The worst is, I shall never find it in this world." + +"That's likely. Come, lad, paint your picture, and I'll tell +you if _I_ know where to look," said Miss Cardigan. + +"And then, you'll search for me?" + +"I dinna ken if you deserve it," said Miss Cardigan. + +"I don't deserve it, of course," said Thorold. "Well — I have +painted the likeness a good many times. The first thing is a +pair of eyes as deep and grey as our mountain lakes." + +"I never heard that your Vermont lakes were _grey_," said Miss +Cardigan. + +"Oh, but they are! when the shadow of the mountains closes +them in. It is not cold grey, but purple and brown, the shadow +of light as it were; the lake is in shadow. Only, if a bit of +blue _does_ show itself there, it is the very Heaven." + +"I hope it is not going to be in poetry?" said Miss Cardigan's +voice, sounding dry and amused. "What is the next thing? It is +a very good picture of eyes." + +"The next thing is a mouth that makes you think of nothing but +kissing it; the lines are so sweet, and so mobile, and at the +same time so curiously subdued. A mouth that has learned to +smile when things don't go right; and that has learned the +lesson so well, you cannot help thinking it must have often +known things go wrong; to get the habit so well, you know." + +"Eh? — Why, boy!" — cried Miss Cardigan. + +"Do you know anybody like it?" said Thorold, laughing. "If you +do, you are bound to let me know where, you understand." + +"What lies between the eyes and mouth?" said Miss Cardigan. +"There goes more to a picture." + +"Between the eyes and mouth," said Thorold, "there is sense, +and dignity, and delicacy, and refinement to a fastidious +point; and a world of strength of character in the little +delicate chin." + +"Character — _that_ shows in the mouth," said Miss Cardigan +slowly. + +"I told you so," said Thorold. "That is what I told you. +Truth, and love, and gentleness, all sit within those little +red lips; and a great strength of will, which you cannot help +thinking has borne something to try it. The brow is like one +of our snowy mountain tops with the sun shining on it." + +"And the lady's figure is like a pine tree, isn't it? It +sounds gay as if you'd fallen in love with Nature, and so +personified and imaged her in human likeness. Is it real +humanity?" + +Thorold laughed his gay laugh. "The pine-tree will do +excellently, aunt Catherine," he said. "No better embodiment +of stately grace could be found." + +My ears tingled. "Aunt Catherine?" _Aunt!_ then Thorold must be +her relation, her nephew; then he was not come on business; +then he would stay to tea. I might as well show myself. But, I +thought, if Thorold had some other lady so much in his mind, +(for I was sure his picture must be a portrait) he would not +care so very much about seeing me, as I had at first fancied +he would. However, I could not go away; so I might as well go +in; it would not do to wait longer. The evening had quite +fallen now. It was April, as I said, but a cold raw spring +day, and had been like that for several days. Houses were +chill; and in Miss Cardigan's grate a fine fire of Kennal +coals was blazing, making its red illumination all over the +room and the two figures who sat in front of it. She had had a +grate put in this winter. There was no other light, only that +soft red glow and gloom, under favour of which I went in and +stood almost beside them before they perceived me. I did not +speak to Miss Cardigan. I remember my words were, "How do you +do, Mr. Thorold?" — in a very quiet kind of a voice; for I did +not now expect him to be very glad. But I was surprised at the +change my words made. He sprang up, his eyes flashing a sort +of shower of sparks over me, gladness in every line of his +face, and surprise, and a kind of inexpressible deference in +his manner. + +"Daisy!" — he exclaimed — "Miss Randolph!" + +"Daisy!" echoed Miss Cardigan. "My dear! — do you two know +each other? Where did you come from?" + +I think I did not answer. I am sure Thorold did not. He was +caring for me, placing his chair nearer his aunt and putting +me into it, before he let go the hand he had taken. Then, +drawing up another chair on the other side of me, he sat down +and looked at me (I thought afterward, I only felt at the +moment) as if I had been some precious wonder; the Koh-i-noor +diamond, or anything of that sort. + +"Where did you come from?" was his first question. + +"I have been in the house a little while," I said. "I thought +at first Miss Cardigan had somebody with her on business, so I +would not come in." + +"It is quite true, Daisy," said Miss Cardigan; "it is somebody +on business." + +"Nothing private about it, though," said Thorold, smiling at +me. "But where in the world did you and aunt Catherine come +together?" + +"And what call have ye to search into it?" said Miss +Cardigan's good-humoured voice. "I know a great many bodies, +callant, that you know not." + +"I know this one though," said Thorold. "Miss Randolph — won't +you speak? for aunt Catherine is in no mood to let me. — Have +you two known each other long?" + +"It seems long," I said. "It is not very long." + +"Since before last summer?" + +"Certainly!" + +"If that's the date of _your_ acquaintanceship," said Miss +Cardigan, "we're auld friends to that. Is all well, Daisy?" + +"All quite well, ma'am. I came to do a bit of study I wanted +in your books, and to have a nice time with you, besides." + +"And here is this fellow in the way. But we cannot turn him +out, Daisy; he is going fast enough; on what errand, do you +think, is he bent?" + +_I_ had not thought about it till that minute. Something, some +thread of the serious, in Miss Cardigan's voice made me look +suddenly at Thorold. He had turned his eyes away from me and +had bent them upon the fire, all merriment gone out of his +face too. It was thoroughly grave. + +"What are you going to do, Mr. Thorold?" I asked. + +"Do you remember a talk we had down on Flirtation walk one day +last summer, when you asked me about possible political +movements at the South, and I asked you what you would do?" + +"Yes," I said, my heart sinking. + +"The time has come," he said, facing round upon me. + +"And you —" + +"I shall be on my way to Washington in a few days. Men are +wanted now — all the men that have any knowledge to be useful. +I may not be very useful. But I am going to try." + +"I thought," — it was not quite easy to speak, for I was +struggling with something which threatened to roughen my +voice, — "I thought, you did not graduate till June?" + +"Not regularly; not usually; but things are extraordinary this +year. We graduate and go on to Washington at once." + +I believe we were all silent a few minutes. + +"Daisy," said Miss Cardigan, "you have nobody that is dear to +_you_, likely to be engaged in the fray — if there is one?" + +"I don't know, —" I said, rather faintly. I remember I said +it; I cannot tell why, for I _did_ know. I knew that Preston and +Ransom were both likely to be in the struggle, even if Ransom +had been at the moment at the opposite side of the world. But +then Thorold roused up and began to talk. He talked to divert +us, I think. He told us of things that concerned himself and +his class personally, giving details to which we listened +eagerly; and he went on from them to things and people in the +public line, of which and of whom neither Miss Cardigan nor I +had known the thousandth part so much before. We sat and +listened, Miss Cardigan often putting in a question, while the +warm still glow of the firelight shed over us and all the room +its assurance of peace and quiet, woven and compounded of +life-long associations. Thorold sat before us and talked, and +we looked at him and listened in the fire-shine; and my +thoughts made swift sideway flights every now and then from +this peace and glow of comfort, and from Thorold's talk, to +the changes of the camp, and the possible coming strife; +spectres of war, guns and swords, exposure and wounds — and +sickness — and the battlefield — what could I tell? and Miss +Cardigan's servant put another lump of coal on the fire, and +Thorold presently broke it, and the jet of illumination sprang +forth, mocking and yet revealing in its sweet home glow my +visions of terror. They were but momentary visions; I could +not bear of course to look steadily at them; they were +spectres that came and went with a wave of a hand, in a jet of +flame, or the shadow of an opening door; but they went, and +came; and I saw many things in Thorold's face that night +beside the manly lines of determination and spirit, the look +of thought and power, and the hover of light in his eye when +it turned to me. I don't know what Miss Cardigan saw; but +several times in the evening I heard her sigh; a thing very +unusual and notable with her. Again and again I heard it, a +soft long breath. + +I gave it no heed at the time. My eyes and thoughts were fixed +on the other member of the party; and I was like one in a +dream. I walked in a dream; till we went into the other room +to tea, and I heard Miss Cardigan say, addressing her nephew, +— + +"Sit there, Christian." + +I was like one in a dream, or I should have known what this +meant. I did know, two minutes afterwards. But at the moment, +falling in with some of my thoughts, the word made me start +and look at Thorold. I cannot tell what was in my look; I know +what was in my heart; the surprised inquiry and the yearning +wish. Thorold's face flushed. He met my eyes with an intense +recognition and inquiry in his own, and then, I am almost +sure, his were dim. He set my chair for me at the table, and +took hold of me and put me in it with a very gentle touch that +seemed to thank me. + +"That is my name, Miss Randolph," he said, — "the name given +me by my parents." + +"You'll earn it yet, boy," said Miss Cardigan. "But the sooner +the better." + +There was after that a very deep gravity upon us all for the +first minutes at table. I wondered to myself, how people can +go on drinking tea and eating bread and butter through +everything; yet they must, and even I was doing it at the +moment, and not willing to forego the occupation. By degrees +the wonted course of things relieved our minds, which were +upon too high a strain. It appeared that Thorold was very +hungry, having, missed his dinner somehow; and his aunt +ordered up everything in the house for his comfort, in which I +suppose she found her own. And then Thorold made me eat with +him. I was sure I did not want it, but that made no +difference. Things were prepared for me and put upon my plate, +and a soft little command laid on me to do with them what I +was expected to do. It was not like the way Dr. Sandford used +to order me, nor in the least like Preston's imperiousness +which I could withstand well enough; there was something in it +which nullified all my power and even will to resist, and I +was as submissive as possible. Thorold grew very bright again +as the meal went on, and began to talk in a somewhat livelier +strain than he had been in before tea; and I believe he did +wile both his aunt and me out of the sad or grave thoughts we +had been indulging. I know that I was obliged to laugh, as I +was obliged to eat. Thorold had his own way, and seemed to +like it. Even his aunt was amused and interested, and grew +lively, like herself. With all that, through the whole supper- +time I had an odd feeling of her being on one side; it seemed +to be only Thorold and I really there; and in all Thorold was +doing and through all he was talking, I had a curious sense +that he was occupied only with me. It was not that he said so +much directly to me or looked so much at me; I do not know how +I got the feeling. There was Miss Cardigan at the head of the +table, busy and talking as usual, clever and kind; yet the air +seemed to be breathed only by Thorold and me. + +"And how soon, lad," Miss Cardigan broke out suddenly, when a +moment's lull in the talk had given her a chance, "how soon +will ye be off to that region of disturbance whither ye are +going?" + +"Washington?" said Thorold. "Just as soon as our examination +can be pushed through; — in a very few days now." + +"You'll come to me by the way, for another look at you, in +your officer's uniform?" + +"Uniform? nobody will have any uniform, I fancy," said +Thorold, "nobody has any time to think of that. No, aunt +Catherine, and I shall not see you, either. I expect we shall +rush through without the loss of a train. I can't stop. I +don't care what clothes I wear to get there." + +"How came you to be here now, if you are in such a hurry?" + +"Nothing on earth would have brought me, but the thing that +did bring me," said Thorold. "I was subpoenaed down, to give +my evidence in a trial. I must get back again without loss of +a minute; should have one to-night, if there had been a train +that stopped. I am very glad there was no train that stopped!" + +We were all silent for a minute; till the door bell rang, and +the servant came announcing Mr. Bunsen, to see Miss Cardigan +about the tenant houses. Miss Cardigan went off through the +open doors that led to the front parlour; and standing by the +fire, I watched her figure diminishing in the long distance +till it passed into Mr. Bunsen's presence and disappeared. Mr. +Thorold and I stood silently on either side of the hearth, +looking into the fire, while the servant was clearing the +table. The cheerful, hospitable little table, round which we +had been so cheerful at least for the moment, was dismantled +already, and the wonted cold gleam of the mahogany seemed to +tell me that cheer was all over. The talk of the uniform had +overset me. All sorts of visions of what it signified, what it +portended, where it would go, what it would be doing, were +knocking at the door of my heart, and putting their heads in. +Before tea these visions had come and vanished; often enough, +to be sure; now they came and stayed. I was very quiet, I am +certain of that; I was as certainly very sober, with a great +and growing sadness at my heart. I think Thorold was grave, +too, though I hardly looked at him. We did not speak to each +other, all the time the servant was busy in the room. We stood +silent before the fire. The study I had come to do had all +passed away out of my mind, though the books were within three +feet of me. I was growing sadder and sadder every minute. + +"Things have changed, since we talked so lightly last summer +of what might be," — Thorold said at last. — And he said it in +a meditative way, as if he were pondering something. + +"Yes" — I assented. + +"The North does not wish for war. The South have brought it +upon themselves." + +"Yes" — I said again; wondering a little what was coming. + +"However disagreeable my duty may be, it is my duty; and there +is no shirking it." + +"No," I said. "Of course." + +"And if your friends are on one side and I on the other, — it +is not my fault, Miss Randolph." + +"No," I said; "not at all." + +"Then you do not blame me for taking the part I _must_ take?" + +"No," I said. "You must take it." + +"Are you sorry I take it?" said Thorold with a change of tone, +and coming a step nearer. + +"Sorry?" I said; and I looked up for an instant. "No; how +could I be sorry? It is your duty. It is right." But as I +looked down again I had the greatest difficulty not to burst +into tears. I felt as though my heart would break in two with +its burden of pain. It cost a great effort to stand still and +quiet, without showing anything. + +"What is it then?" said Thorold; and with the next words I +knew he had come close to my side and was stooping his head +down to my face, while his voice dropped. "What is it, Daisy? +— Is it — Oh, Daisy, I love you better than anything else in +the world, except my duty; — Daisy, do you love me?" + +Nothing could have been more impossible to me, I think, than +to answer a word; but, indeed, Thorold did not seem to want +it. As he questioned me, he had put his arm round me and drawn +me nearer and nearer, stooping his face to me, till his lips +took their own answer at mine; indeed took answer after +answer, and then, in a sort of passion of mute joy, kissed my +face all over. I could not forbid him; between excitement and +sorrow and happiness and shame, I could do nothing; the best I +could do was to hide my face, but the breast of that grey coat +was a strange hiding-place for it. With that inconsistent +mingling of small things with great in one's perceptions, +which everybody knows, I remember the soft feel of the fine +grey cloth along with the clasp of Thorold's arms and the +touch of his cheek resting upon my hair. And we stood so, +quite still, for what seemed both a long and a short time, in +which I think happiness got the upper hand with me, and pain +for the moment was bid into the background. At last Thorold +raised his head and bade me, lift up mine. + +"Look up, darling," he said; "look up, Daisy! let me see your +face. Look up, Daisy — we have only a minute, and everything +in the world to say to each other. Daisy — I want to see you." + +I think it was one of the most difficult little things I ever +had in my life to do, to raise my face and let him look at it; +but I knew it must be done, and I did it. One glance at his I +ventured. He was smiling at me; there was a flush upon his +cheek; his eye had a light in it, and with that a glow of +tenderness which was different from anything I had ever seen; +and it was glittering too, I think, with another sort of +suffusion. His hand came smoothing down my hair and then +touching my cheek while he looked at me. + +"What are you going to do with yourself now?" he said softly. + +"I am going on with my studies for another month or two." + +"And you belong to me, Daisy?" + +"Yes." + +He bent his head and kissed my brow. There is an odd +difference of effect between a kiss on the lips and on the +forehead, or else it was a difference in the manner. This +seemed a sort of taking possession or setting a seal; and it +gave me a new feeling of something almost like awe, which I +had never associated with the grey coat or with its wearer +before. Along with that came another impression, that I +suppose most women know, and know how sweet it is; the sense +of an enveloping protection. Not that I had not been protected +all my life; but my mother's had been the protection of +authority; my father's also, in some measure; Dr. Sandford's +was emphatically that of a _guardian;_ he guarded me a little +too well. But this new thing that was stealing into my heart, +with its subtle delight, was the protection of a champion; of +one who set me and mine above all other interests or claims in +the world, and who would guard me as if he were a part of +myself, only stronger. Altogether Thorold seemed to me +different from what he had been the last summer; there was a +gravity now in his face and air at times that was new and even +stern; the gravity of a man taking stern life-work upon him. I +felt all this in a minute, while Thorold was smiling down into +my face. + +"And you will write to me?" he said. + +"Yes!" + +"And I will write to you. And I belong to you, Daisy, and to +no other. All I have is yours, and all that I am is yours, — +after my duty; you may dispose of me, pretty one, just as you +like. _You_ would not have that put second, Daisy." + +A great yearning came over me, so great and strong that it +almost took away my breath. I fancy it spoke in my eyes, for +Thorold's face grew very grave, I remember, as he looked at +me. But I must speak it more plainly than so, at any costs, +breath or no breath, and I must not wait. + +"Christian," I whispered, — "won't you earn your right to your +name?" + +He pressed his lips upon mine by way of answer first, and then +gave me a quick and firm "Yes." I certainly thought he had +found the mouth he was talking of a little while ago. But at +that instant the sound of the distant house door closing, and +then of steps coming out from the parlour, made me know that +Miss Cardigan's business was over, and that she was returning +to us. I wanted to free myself from Thorold's arm, but he +would not let me; on the contrary, held me closer, and half +turned to meet Miss Cardigan as she came in. Certainly men are +very different from women. There we stood awaiting her; and I +felt very much ashamed. + +"Come on, aunt Catherine," Thorold said, as she paused at the +door, — "come in! Come in and kiss her; — this little darling +is mine." + +Miss Cardigan came in slowly. I could not look up. + +"Kiss her, aunt Catherine," he repeated; "she is mine." + +And to my great dismay he set her the example; but I think it +was partly to reassure me, and cover my confusion, which he +saw. + +"I have kissed Daisy very often before now," said Miss +Cardigan. I thought I discerned some concern in her voice. + +"Then come, do it again," said Thorold, laughing. "You never +kissed her as anything belonging to me, aunt Catherine." + +And he fairly laid me in Miss Cardigan's arms, till we kissed +each other as he desired. But Miss Cardigan's gravity roused +me out of my confusion. I was not ashamed before her; only +before him. + +"Now, aunt Catherine," he said, pulling up a comfortable +armchair to the corner of the hearth, — "sit there. And Daisy, +— come here!" + +He put me into the fellow chair; and then built up the wood in +the fireplace till we had a regular illumination. Then drew +himself up before the fire, and looked at his aunt. + +"It's like you!" broke out Miss Cardigan. "Ever since you were +born, I think, you did what you liked, and had what you liked; +and threw over everything to get at the best." + +"On the contrary," said Thorold, "I was always of a very +contented disposition." + +"Contented with your own will, then," said his aunt. "And now, +do you mean to tell me that you have got this prize — this +prize — it's a first-class, Christian — for good and for +certain to yourself?" + +I lifted my eyes one instant, to see the sparkles in Thorold's +eyes; they were worth seeing. + +"You don't think you deserve it?" Miss Cardigan went on. + +"I do not think I deserve it," said Thorold. "But I think I +will." + +"I know what that means," said his aunt. "You will get worldly +glory — just a bit or two more of gold on your coat — to match +you with one of the Lord's jewels, that are to be 'all +glorious within;' and you think that will fit you to own her." + +"Aunt Catherine," said Thorold, "I do not precisely think +that gold lace is glory. But I mean that I will do my duty. A +man can do no more." + +"Some would have said, 'a man can do no less,' " said Miss +Cardigan, turning to me. "But you are right, lad; more than +our duty we can none of us do; where _all_ is owing, less will +not be overpay. But whatever do you think her father will say +to you?" + +"I will ask him, when the time comes," said Thorold, +contentedly. His tone was perfect; both modest and manly. +Truth to say, I could not quite share his content, in looking +forward to the time he spoke of; but that was far ahead, and +it was impossible not to share his confidence. My father and +my mother had been practically not my guardians during six and +a half long years; I had got out of the habit of looking first +to them. + +"And what are you going to do now in Washington?" said his +aunt. "You may as weel sit down and tell us." + +"I don't know. Probably I shall be put to drill new recruits. +All these seventy-five thousand men that the President has +called for, won't know how to handle a gun or do anything +else." + +"And what is he going to do with these seventy-fire thousand +men, Christian?" + +"Put down treason, if he can. Don't you realise yet that we +have a civil war on our hands, aunt Catherine? The Southern +States are mustering and sending their forces; we must meet +them, or give up the whole question; that is, give up the +Country." + +"And what is it that _they_ will try to do?" said Miss Cardigan. +"It is a mystery to me what they want; but I suppose I know; +only bad men are a mystery to me always." + +"They will try to defy the laws," said Thorold. "We will try +to see them executed." + +"They seem very fierce," said Miss Cardigan; "to judge by what +they say." + +"And do," added Thorold. "I think there is a sort of madness +in Southern blood!" + +He spoke with a manner of disgustful emphasis. I looked up at +him, to see an expression quite in keeping with his words. +Miss Cardigan cried out, — + +"Hey, lad! Ye're confident, surely, to venture your opinions +so plainly and so soon!" + +His face changed, as if sunlight had been suddenly poured over +it. He came kneeling on one knee before me, taking my hand and +kissing it, and laughing. + +"And I see ye're not confident without reason!" added Miss +Cardigan. "Daisy'll just let ye say your mind, and no punish +you for it." + +"But it is _true_, Miss Cardigan," — I said, turning to her. I +wished I had held my tongue the next minute, for the words +were taken off my lips, as it were. It is something quite +different from eating your own words, which I have heard of as +not pleasant; mine seemed to be devoured by somebody else. + +"But is it true they are coming to attack Washington?" Miss +Cardigan went on, when we had all done laughing. "I read it in +the prints; and it seems to me I read every other thing +there." + +"I am afraid you read too many prints," said Thorold. "You are +thinking of 'hear both sides,' aunt Catherine? — you must know +there is but one side to this matter. There never are two +sides to treason." + +"That's true," said Miss Cardigan. "But about Washington, lad? +I saw an extract from a letter written from that city, by a +lady, and she said the place was in terror; she said the +President sleeps with a hundred men, armed, in the east room, +to protect him from the Southern army; and keeps a sentinel +before his bedroom door; and often goes clean out of the White +House and sleeps somewhere else, in his fear." + +I had never seen Thorold laugh as he did then. And he asked +his aunt "where she had seen that extract?" + +"It was in one of the papers — it was in an extract; itself, +I'm thinking." + +"From a Southern paper," said Thorold. + +"Well, I believe it was." + +"I have seen extracts too," said Thorold. "They say, Alexander +H. Stephens is counselling the rebels to lay hold on +Washington." + +"Well, sit down and tell us what you do know, and how to +understand things!" said Miss Cardigan. "I don't talk to +anybody, much, about politics." + +So Thorold did as he was asked. He sat down on the other side +of me, and with my hand in his, talked to us both. We went +over the whole ground of the few months past, of the work then +doing and preparing, of what might reasonably be looked for in +both the South and the North. He said he was not very wise in +the matter; but he was infinitely more informed than we; and +we listened as to the most absorbing of all tales, till the +night was far worn. A sense of the gravity and importance of +the crisis; a consciousness that we were embarked in a contest +of the most stubborn character, the end of which no man might +foretell, pressed itself more and more on my mind as the night +and the talk grew deeper. If I may judge from the changes in +Miss Cardigan's face, it was the same with her. The conclusion +was, the North was gathering and concentrating all her forces +to meet the trial that was coming; and the young officers of +the graduating class at the Military Academy had been ordered +to the seat of war a little before their time of study was +out; their help being urgently needed. + +"And where is Preston?" said I, speaking for the first time +in a long while. + +"Preston?" — echoed Thorold. + +"My cousin Preston, — Gary; your classmate Gary." + +"Gary! — Oh, he is going to Washington, like the rest of us." + +"Which side will he take?" + +"You should know, perhaps, better than I," said Thorold. "He +always _has_ taken the Southern side, and very exclusively." + +"_Has_ taken?" said I. "Do you mean that among the cadets, there +has been a South and a North — until now lately?" + +"Ay, Daisy, always, since I have been in the Academy. The +Southern clique and the Northern clique have been well +defined; there is always an assumption of superiority on the +one side, and some resenting of it on the other side. It was +on that ground Gary and I split." + +"Split!" I repeated. + +But Thorold laughed and kissed me, and would give me no +satisfaction. I began to put things together though. I saw +from Christian's eyes that _he_ had nothing to be ashamed of, in +looking back; I remembered Preston's virulence, and his sudden +flush when somebody had repeated the word "coward," which he +had applied to Thorold. I felt certain that more had been +between them than mere words, and that Preston found the +recollection not flattering, whatever it was; and having come +to this settlement of the matter, I looked up at Thorold. + +"My gentle little Daisy!" he said. "I will never quarrel with +him again — if I can help it." + +"You _must_ quarrel with him, if he is on the wrong side," I +answered. "And so must I." + +"You say, you must go immediately back to West Point," said +Miss Cardigan. "Leave thanking Daisy's hand, and tell me _when_ +you are going; for the night is far past, children." + +"I am gone when I bid you good-night," said Thorold. "I must +set out with the dawn — to catch the train I must take." + +"With the dawn! — _this_ morning!" cried Miss Cardigan. + +"Certainly. I should be there this minute, if the colonel had +not given me something to do here that kept me." + +"And when will ye do it?" + +"Do it! It is done," said Thorold; "before I came here. But I +must catch the first train in the morning." + +"And you'll want some breakfast before that," she said rising. + +"No, I shall not," said Thorold, catching hold of her. "I want +nothing. I did want my supper. Sit down, aunt Catherine, and +be quiet. I want nothing, I tell you, but more time." + +"We may as well sit up the rest of the night," I said; "it is +so far gone now." + +"Yes, and what will you be good for to-morrow?" said Miss +Cardigan. "You must lie down and take a bit of rest." + +I felt no weariness; but I remember the grave, tender, +examination of Thorold's eyes, which seemed to touch me with +their love, to find out whether I — and himself — might be +indulged or not. It was a bit of the thoughtful, watchful +affection, which always surrounded me when he was near. I +never had it just so from anybody else. + +"It won't do, Daisy," said he gaily. "You would not have me go +in company with self-reproaches all day to-morrow? You must +lie down here on the sofa; and sleep or not, we'll all be +still for two hours. Aunt Catherine will thank me to stop +talking for that length of time." + +I was not sleepy, but Miss Cardigan and Thorold would not be +resisted. Thorold wheeled up the sofa, piled the cushions, and +made me lie down, with the understanding that nobody should +speak for the time he had specified. Miss Cardigan, on her +part, soon lost herself in her easy chair. Thorold walked +perseveringly up and down the room. I closed my eyes and +opened my eyes, and lay still and thought. It is all before me +now. The firelight fading and brightening; Thorold took care +of the fire; the gleam of the gaslight on the rows of books; +Miss Cardigan's comfortable figure gone to sleep in the corner +of her chair; and the figure which ever and anon came between +me and the fire, piling or arranging the logs of wood, and +then paced up and down just behind me. There was no sleep for +my eyes; of course. How should there be? I seemed to pass all +my life in review, and took the bearings of my present +position, and got calmed and quieted. I think they were silver +hours while I lay there, if time is ever made of such +material; not golden, for my happiness was not quite so +perfect. There were many things to temper it. + +I rose up the minute the hours were over, for I could bear the +silence no longer, nor the losing any more time. Thorold +stopped his walk then, and we had a long talk over the fire by +ourselves, while Miss Cardigan slept on. Trust her, though, +for waking up when there was anything to be done. Long before +dawn she roused herself and went to call her servants and +order our early breakfast. + +"What are you going to do now, Daisy?" said Thorold, turning +to me with a weight of earnestness in his eyes, and a flash of +that keen inspection which they sometimes gave me. + +"You know —" I said, "I am going to study as hard as I can for +a month or two more, — till my school closes." + +"Then?" — + +I was silent. + +"What then, Daisy? Perhaps you will find some way to come on +and see me at Washington — if the rebels don't take it first?" + +It must be told. + +"No — I cannot. — My father and mother wish me to come out to +them as soon as I get a chance." + +"Where?" + +"In Switzerland." + +"Switzerland! To stay how long?" + +"I don't know — till the war is over, I suppose. I do not +think they would come back before." + +"I shall come and fetch you, then, Daisy." + +But it seemed a long way off. And how much might be between. +We were both silent. + +"That is heavy, for me," said Thorold at last. "Little Daisy, +you do not know how heavy!" + +He was caressing my hair, smoothing and stroking it as he +spoke. I looked up, and his eyes flashed fire instantly. + +"Say that in words!" he exclaimed, taking me in his arms. "Say +it, Daisy! say it. It will be worth so much to me." + +But my lips had hardly a chance to speak. + +"Say what?" + +"Daisy, you _have_ said it. Put it in words, that is all." + +But his eyes were so fill of flashing triumph that I thought +he had got enough for the time. + +"Daisy, those eyes of yours are like mountain lakes, deep and +still. But when I look quite down to the bottom of them — +sometimes I see something — I thought I did then." + +"What?" I asked, very much amused. + +"I see it there now, Daisy!" + +"I was afraid he did, for _his_ eyes were like sunbeams, and I +thought they went through everything at that minute. I don't +know what moved me, the consciousness of this inspection or +the consciousness of what it discovered; but I know that +floods of shyness seemed to flush my face and brow, and even +to the tips of my fingers. I would have escaped if I could, +but I could not; and I think Thorold rather liked what he saw. +There was no hiding it, unless I hid it on his shoulder; and I +was ashamed to have to do that, but he liked it. I felt that +his lips knew just as well as his eyes what state my cheeks +were in, and took their own advantage. Though presently their +tenderness soothed me too, and even nullified the soft little +laugh with which he whispered, "Are you ashamed to show it to +_me_, Daisy?" + +"You know," said I, still keeping my eyes hid, "you have me at +advantage. If you were not going — away — so soon, I would not +do a great many things." + +"Daisy!" said he, laughing, — "Daisy!" — And touching my cheek +as one who meant to keep his advantage. But then his voice +changed, and he repeated, with a deeper and deepening tone +with each word — "Daisy! — my Daisy!" + +I had very nearly burst out into great sobs upon his breast, +with the meeting of opposite tides of feeling. Sweet and +bitter struggled for the upper hand; struggled, while I was +afraid he would feel the laboured breath which went and came, +straining me. And the sweetness, for the moment, got the +better. I knew he must go, in an hour or little more, away +from me. I knew it was for uncertain and maybe dangerous duty. +I knew it might at best be long before we could see each other +again; and, back of all, the thought of my father and mother +was not reassuring. But his arms were round me and my head was +on his shoulder; and that was but the outward symbol of the +inward love and confidence which filled all my heart with its +satisfying content. For the moment happiness was uppermost. +Not all the clouds on the horizon could dim the brightness of +that one sun-ray which reached me. + +I do not know what Thorold thought, but he was as still as I +for a while. + +"Daisy," he said at last, "my Daisy, you need not grudge any +of your goodness to me. Don't you know, you are to be my light +and my watchword in what lies before me?" + +"Oh, no!" I said, lifting my head; "Oh, no, Christian!" + +"Why no?" said he. + +"I want you to have a better watchword and follow a better +light. Not me. Oh, Christian, won't you?" + +"What shall my watchword be?" — said he, looking into my eyes. +But I was intent on something else then. + +"Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus," I +answered. + +"A soldier, Daisy? —" + +"A soldier more than anybody," I said; "for He calls us to be +soldiers, and you know what it means." + +"But you forget," said he, not taking his eyes from my face, — +"in my service I must obey as well as command; I am not my own +master exactly." + +"Let Christ be your Master," I said. + +"How then with this other service?" + +"Why, it is very plain," I said. "Command in the love of God, +and obey in the fear of God; that covers all." + +I did not see the natural sequence of what followed; for it +was a succession of kisses that left no chance for a word to +get out of my mouth. Then Thorold rose up, straightened +himself, and I saw Miss Cardigan just entering. + +"I will not forget, Daisy," he said, in a tone as if we had +been talking of business. I thought, neither should I. And +then came Miss Cardigan, and the servant behind her bringing +coffee and bread and eggs and marmalade — I don't know what +beside — and we sat down again to the table, knowing that the +next move would be a move apart. But the wave of happiness was +at the flood with me, and it bore me over all the underlying +roughnesses of the shore — for the time. I do not think +anybody wanted to eat much; we played with cups of coffee and +with each other, and dallied with the minutes till the last +one was spent. + +And then came the parting. That was short. + +THE END + + +Note by the transcriber : +DAISY is the continuation of MELBOURNE HOUSE. 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