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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy, by Elizabeth Wetherell
+
+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: January 31, 2009 [EBook #27949]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Jen Haines and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    DAISY.
+
+    BY
+    ELIZABETH WETHERELL,
+
+
+    AUTHOR OF
+    "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," "QUEECHY,"
+    ETC., ETC.
+
+    [Illustration: Floral Squiggle]
+
+    LONDON:
+
+    WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED,
+    WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
+    NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE.
+
+    [Illustration: Frontis "'And you love Jesus, Darry,' I said."
+     _Page 59_ ]
+
+    CONTENTS.
+
+                               PAGE
+    CHAPTER I.
+    MISS PINSHON                  9
+
+    CHAPTER II.
+    MY HOME                      27
+
+    CHAPTER III.
+    THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE     45
+
+    CHAPTER IV.
+    SEVEN HUNDRED PEOPLE         68
+
+    CHAPTER V.
+    IN THE KITCHEN               97
+
+    CHAPTER VI.
+    WINTER AND SUMMER           119
+
+    CHAPTER VII.
+    SINGLEHANDED                149
+
+    CHAPTER VIII.
+    EGYPTIAN GLASS              165
+
+    CHAPTER IX.
+    SHOPPING                    185
+
+    CHAPTER X.
+    SCHOOL                      205
+
+    CHAPTER XI.
+    A PLACE IN THE WORLD        226
+
+    CHAPTER XII.
+    FRENCH DRESSES              244
+
+    CHAPTER XIII.
+    GREY COATS                  275
+
+    CHAPTER XIV.
+    YANKEES                     297
+
+    CHAPTER XV.
+    FORT PUTNAM                 320
+
+    CHAPTER XVI.
+    HOPS                        338
+
+    CHAPTER XVII.
+    OBEYING ORDERS              356
+
+    CHAPTER XVIII.
+    SOUTH AND NORTH             379
+
+    CHAPTER XIX.
+    ENTERED FOR THE WAR         392
+
+
+
+
+DAISY.
+
+
+
+
+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 sunlit 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 that 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
+that 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. 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 stayed 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 long endure 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
+school-mistress?
+
+"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 a
+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 poetic 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."
+
+"O 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. Ribbons 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! O 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."
+
+"O 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 won't 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 had purposed; and after the rose he
+ordered candied fruits; till a great packet 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 recognize 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 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 in 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 forest. 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 horehound 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 year 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 farthest 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 play-ground 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 usher 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 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 upstairs 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! Miss '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 upstairs 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 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 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 swart 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 be 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 on 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? O 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 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. 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 no 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 downstairs 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 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
+nightgown 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.
+
+"Ain't 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.
+
+"Ain't 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 carefully 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; ain't 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 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 downstairs. 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 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 seemed 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 back 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 bookcases; a large escritoire; a
+terrestrial globe; a thermometer and a 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 handing 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's 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; 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 aroused
+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 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 stayed 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, and all these people were without what was the
+jewel of my life. And they my mother's servants! my father's
+dependants! 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 upon 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 ain't 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 Sadler 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 learning. Dey no read, sure."
+
+"Do you read the Bible to them, Darry?"
+
+"Miss Daisy knows, dere ain't no great time. Dey's in the 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'thing. 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 his 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 work-people 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 the 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 to 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 the 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
+that 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 drew 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. 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 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 upstairs
+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 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 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 downstairs, 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 heard 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 window-sill
+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,
+heartbreaking 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 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' ain't no good for servants. Seems
+like Miss Daisy ain't 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 ain't a heap better that knows the Bible," said the
+girl. "'Pears as if it don't make no difference. Ain't 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 downstairs. 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 home, 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."
+
+"Knocked 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 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 here. 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 nonsense," 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 as we like with. Didn't you know that?"
+
+"Property is something that you can buy and sell," I answered.
+
+"And we sell the 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 to me, seeking every refuge from accepting it. "Who sold
+them 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 gave
+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."
+
+"That 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 'like' 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 rested, 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 could 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 be, 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 among the fumes and
+vapours that 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 in 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 of 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, 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 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 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 made 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 of
+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?"
+
+"'Tain't 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
+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; 'tain't 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 nothing 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
+inquiry: "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 done on dis plantation, and he wouldn't have no such work.
+He say, der'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 this
+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 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 looked at me
+well.
+
+"I shall send for the 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 immovable
+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 were 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 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 ain't no great doings, Miss Daisy. The people gets four days,
+most of 'em."
+
+"Four days--for what?"
+
+"For what they like; they don't do no work, those days."
+
+"And is that all?"
+
+"No, Miss Daisy, 'tain't 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 on 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 me, 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
+upstairs. 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 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 door; 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 upstairs; 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 hain't forgot how to make
+it--'spect she hain't, 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 upstairs with
+a tray and 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 hain't 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 æsthetic
+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's we's all willin' to gib de Lord t'anks for His goodness.
+Dere ain't 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 the 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 in the world, I suppose, could have given me such
+deep gratification at the moment. Margaret was sent upstairs 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 feelings--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 all 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 in 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 to 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, will 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.
+
+"Ain't 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
+downstairs. 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 more 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 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 come!" echoed my aunt. "Mr. Edwards would be well employed
+to interfere with anything the family chose 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 aver 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
+Sunday, 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
+ain't much mo' in _dis_ world."
+
+"But I thought there were only very few," I said.
+
+"'Spose um fifty," said Maria. "Fifty ain't 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. Ain't much shining 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 favourite 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 amongst 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 upstairs 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 nowadays 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 the 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; not 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 a 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 parties 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'ng; 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, like 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 mingled 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 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 or 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 spirit 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 on 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
+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; he
+would spend the winter in the Pyrenees! 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 these 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 that 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 on questions and comments. I knew, as
+well as I know now, what would be thought of any plan of 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 æsthetic 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 Maria 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
+ribbon 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
+than 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 take 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,
+uncrystallized 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 cost 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 sorts 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 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 good 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's 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 un-mixed 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 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 unfrequently 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 a
+while 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 to 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 every one; 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 Pyrenees;
+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 airs, 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 wandered over the empty sarcophagi; held my
+breath at the pit's sides; and was never tired of going over the
+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 continuing 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 smokestack 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 farthest 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 be; but it fell oftener into the
+minor key, and then poured 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 prayer 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 debil 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 ain't 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 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 ain't looking 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?"
+
+"'Spose 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 berry good, Miss Daisy," she said, cheerily, a moment
+after; "and dem dat love Him, dere 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, nohow," 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 ain't no
+gentleman, nohow!"
+
+"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 number 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 her 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 berry 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 thundercloud. 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 hear 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's 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_ wideawake; 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, for the doctor looked at me and smiled as
+he said, "I see it _is_ Daisy; I think it is 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 and 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 sweetbriar 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 events and the names."
+
+"In writing?"
+
+"I might write it if I chose, I often do, but I had to give the
+synopsis from 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 inquiry as to my well-being;
+and if he found things not satisfactory, as my father feared he might,
+and judge 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, so
+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. Jem 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, s'pose 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
+manservant, 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 wrongdoing 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 ferry-boat 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 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.
+
+"Yes. But what makes _you_ want to get away from home more than all
+the rest of them?"
+
+"Reckon I'd 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 ain't 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 supposed Margaret dared not tell me. After a
+long time of weary tossing and heartache, 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, in 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 to 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 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 back, 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 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 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 hearts 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 an _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 nowadays. 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 not 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 fully as 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 merinoes. I had no
+objection ready.
+
+"What colour, Daisy?"
+
+"I want something quiet," I said.
+
+"Something dark," 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
+merinoes and I confronted each other. There was displayed now before
+me a piece of claret-coloured stuff, dark and bright; a lovely 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
+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."
+
+"Please, 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 all about it," I said; and then I desired the shopman
+to cut off the dress I had fixed upon; and we went upstairs 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 stairs, feeling perplexed, nevertheless, at the strangeness of the
+work I was doing, and with something in my heart giving a pull at my
+judgment towards the side of what was undoubtedly "pleasant to the
+eyes." So I followed Dr. Sandford up the stairs 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 downstairs?
+
+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 was not what I was thinking of."
+
+"When 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 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 he 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 in
+contrast with it, the one of the first there. 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," he 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 wareroom. 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, until 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 sufferings
+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 come 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 teeth between them.
+
+"Yes. I saw you were not warm in that thin shawl."
+
+"It's mighty cold up these ways!--" the girls 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. Ain't 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
+back again 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
+owned 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 took 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 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 down
+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?" 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 furs and feathers,
+for instance, wicked things?"
+
+He did not speak it 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
+nowadays. 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 ribbon."
+
+"How much would _that_ be?" said Mrs. Sandford.
+
+"Oh really, I don't just know," the woman answered; "depends on the
+ribbon; 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 at 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, of 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 to 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 in 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 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 scrape 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. Aye, 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 unlocked
+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
+soft little 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 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 Macy. "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. Mme. 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 Géneviève, 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. Géneviève.
+
+"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. Géneviève. "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, Géneviève," she said.
+
+"La charmante!" said Mme. Jupon. "Voyez l'a plomb!"
+
+"No, you don't want me," said Mlle. Géneviève, 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 those very few women who dress
+well; but which are more and more hideous the farther 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 mother. Only now going out towards China; and
+how long months might pass before China would be done 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 upstairs 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 weak
+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. Géneviève 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 and black headed pins, studying the changes of England and her
+people. But Mlle. Géneviève 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.
+Géneviève 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.
+Géneviève'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 can 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 my 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 text for the day that had
+just gone; now I thought I would try it in my difficulty. The very
+next 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 came
+still 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 an 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. Géneviève 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. Géneviève'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. Géneviève'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 upstairs, 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, heavily 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 out of doors 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 schoolfellows had all gone downstairs 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 sometime 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. "_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 schoolfellows'
+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 farther 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 recognize 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 patronized 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 elegances 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 for ever. 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 the 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 Wheelrights
+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 thing
+for one that it does for another."
+
+"Now, my good Bentley, that is just what it _don't_," said St. Clair,
+drumming up 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 who 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 may be 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 for ever 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 schoolgirl. 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 unmistakable
+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 slight 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 toilets 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 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, dear. 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 weel 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 all 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, its 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 coins 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 bread the 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 that 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 my 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 in 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 to
+you."
+
+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," said Miss St. Clair cavalierly. Somehow I
+felt that this little lady was not in a good mood awards 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 of 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 a 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, ain't she?" said Miss Macy. "She'll be
+beautiful."
+
+"No," said Mlle. Géneviève; "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.
+
+"Whoever saw Mlle. Géneviève 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 to 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 not 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 sculpture 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. Géneviève.
+
+"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 are 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 stayed 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. Géneviève. 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 Blackeyes, who
+was good-natured through everything.
+
+"Madame is not French herself," said Miss Bentley.
+
+"I hate everything at school!" St. Clair went on.
+
+"It's 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 on 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 bed-time. 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. Géneviève 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 curtseys;
+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 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 Blackeyes, 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 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, Blackeyes; 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, O 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 all 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 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 you 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 ask 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
+arn'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. There was nothing to cause uneasiness;
+the intervals were often long between one packet of letters and the next;
+but 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 down 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 head-ache 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, nowadays? 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 the
+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's 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 from 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 girded 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 find 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 the lower
+ground, thrust out into the river, between me and the eastern shore,
+which lay wholly in shadow, one 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 as sharp as a needle. It is all
+before me, even the summer stillness in which my senses were wrapt.
+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 my self 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?"
+
+"Oh, 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 marketwoman," 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
+marketwoman 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 you 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 men, 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
+downstairs. 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 farther and farther.
+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 was a border of buildings and
+of flourishing trees as well. 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 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
+farther 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 whom 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
+civilization, 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 not 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 sounds 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
+guardmounting. 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, unsympathizingly. "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 hobnailed
+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, 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. You 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 be 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 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
+McFarlane, 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. 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 our 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 guardmounting 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. Guardmounting 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, vaporous 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 was not in a mood to bear
+laughing at.
+
+"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!" he replied.
+
+"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 uphill; 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
+the top--and you have been to Fort Putnam."
+
+"Why, I want you 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 band,
+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 Capt. Percival is from South
+Carolina, and Mr. Hunter is from Virginia, and Col. 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 most 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 to a back view of character; which engrossed me till my two
+statues went away.
+
+A little while after Preston came. "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. "Good-bye. 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 will be broiling to-day."
+
+And he left me. Things had gone wrong with Preston lately, I thought.
+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 apologize 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 on duty; they are only reckoned machines."
+
+"You do not mean that exactly, I suppose."
+
+"Indeed I do!" he said, with another slighter coruscation.
+"Intelligent machines, of course, and 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 thought the
+management of machines could not be very pleasant.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It is degrading to the machines--and so, I should think, it would not
+be very elevating to those that 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 'elogies 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 was 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 us 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 farther 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 on
+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 southernly, with its bordering ridge of hills, and above all,
+the wealth and glory of the woodland and the unheaved 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 nowadays."
+
+"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 had 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 Capt. 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 upstairs 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, my dear Daisy!--are you walked to death? 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 to 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 bringing 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, Capt. Percival came up and asked me to 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 Capt. 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 Capt. 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
+Capt. 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, Capt. Percival brought up Capt. Lascelles;
+and somebody else, Mr. Sandford, I believe, introduced Lt. Vaux, and
+Major Fairbairn; and Major Pitt was another, I believe. And Col.
+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
+manner 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 rain!" 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 excessive 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 inquiring "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 inquired, as soon as we were out of
+earshot.
+
+"Do you mean yesterday?"
+
+"Of course I mean yesterday! I saw you cross into 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 that 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 do not 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 tumbled
+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 the make and quality were different. 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
+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 let me just 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 commonize 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 then we started.
+
+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, 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 individualize 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 shared Mrs. Sandford's room, 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 fairylandlike 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 underbrush. 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 get on with my Bible at all. 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 of 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 hops, 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; then 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 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 for ever 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 suppose you have 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.
+
+"Oh 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'
+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--general," 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 inquiringly, 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 baulked 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 like 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 guardmounting and 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 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 there; 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 civilization 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 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. 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.
+
+"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 recreation? What '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
+dance. 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 Capt. Percival, but folded
+manfully. He had been watching me very intently; now he stood as
+intently looking off over the farther 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?"
+
+"O 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 do about 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.
+
+"O 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; then he continued--
+
+"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 scrutinize 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 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 and you may laugh at me," I said.
+
+"Why may I not understand you?" he asked deferentially.
+
+"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.
+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 one 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, overnight; 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. I remember the cool, bright freshness of the
+light, and its brilliant gleam in the distance after it had left the
+hillside. I have an impression of the calm clear beauty that was
+underfoot 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.
+
+"Was that anybody I knew?" I asked.
+
+"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 Madame'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 my mind very
+violent and very wrong-headed; at the same time, I knew that my mother
+would endorse and Preston 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 Madame 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 father and mother, Aunt Gary and Preston, and others,
+told me more. I began to pray that God would not let war come upon 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 native of New York.
+
+"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?
+
+"Aye, just that," she replied; "and fighting between the two parts of
+one land is just the worst fighting there can be. Pray it may not
+come, Daisy; but those people are quite 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 had been able
+to come to me. 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 organized.
+
+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; there 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 the 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.
+Géneviève, 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 schoolfellows; 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 pre-occupation. 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. Géneviève 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
+had found my books, and had thrown myself down on the floor with one,
+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 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 that 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 that 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 in 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 were 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, looking at me (I thought afterwards, 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 tell me--have you two known
+each other long?"
+
+"It seems long," I said. "It is not very long."
+
+"Since 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 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
+besides 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 the 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
+gone 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--O 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 a 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 arm chair 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 well 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-five thousand men,
+Christian?"
+
+"Put down treason, if he can. Don't you realize 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 being 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 a 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?"
+
+"Aye, 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 as I took the bearings of my
+present position I became calm.
+
+I rose up the moment the two 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 along 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 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."
+
+"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 go 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 full 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 that I was
+ashamed to do. 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 veiled, "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 he touched my cheek as one
+who meant to keep his advantage. 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 for a while as
+I was.
+
+"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. O Christian, won't you?"
+
+"What shall my watchword be?" said he, looking into my eyes. But I was
+intent on something else then. I answered, "Whatsoever ye do, do all
+in the name of the Lord Jesus."
+
+"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, and I saw Miss Cardigan enter.
+
+"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 roughness 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.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+
+The following items were considered to be typographical errors and
+have been changed. Other typographic, spelling, punctuation errors and
+parochial speech has been left as they appear in the book.
+
+Page 17--Changed period into comma after the word "too" in the
+sentence--"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I.
+
+Page 37--Corrected "awkward" from "awkard" in the sentence--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.
+
+Page 40--Changed question mark to period and deleted quotation mark in
+the sentence--I asked what they all were."
+
+Page 51--Changed single quote to double quote after "light" in the
+sentence--"They must be very dark if they could not understand light,"
+said my governess.
+
+Page 56--Removed superfluous "n" from governess in--Then I remembered
+that my governess probably did care for some fruit
+
+Page 87--Corrected "string" to read "sting" in the sentence--It has a
+sting of its own, for which there is neither salve nor remedy; and it
+had the aggravation, in my case, of the sense of personal dishonour.
+
+Page 91--Added apostrophe to "girls" in the sentence--I have a
+recollection of the girl's terrified face, but I heard nothing more.
+
+Page 93--removed " from the start of the sentence--They had been gone
+half an hour, when Preston stole in and came to the side of my bed,
+between me and the firelight.
+
+Page 97--Added " after Melbourne in the sentence--"We shall have to
+let her do just as they did at Melbourne," said my aunt.
+
+Page 110--Added " after the word "by" in the sentence--"Mass' Preston
+come last night," she went on; "so I reckon Miss Daisy'll want to wear
+it by and by."
+
+Page 163--Changed period to ? in the sentence--"Will that distress you
+very much?"
+
+Page 178--Changed Mr. to Dr. in the sentence--"But, Dr.
+Sandford," I said, "nobody can belong to anybody--in that way."
+
+Page 193--Changed 'be' to 'he' in the sentence starting--I believe I
+half wished be would make some objection;
+
+Page 206--Added "le" to "aves" to make "leaves" in--"You wouldn't say
+so, if you knew the work it is to set those leaves round," said the
+mantua-maker.
+
+Page 240--Changed "for" into "far" in--but I am afraid the rule of the
+Good Samaritan would put us far apart.
+
+Page 249--Changed exclamation mark to question mark in--"Is there so
+much trouble everywhere in the world?"
+
+Page 250--Changed "I" to "It" in--It was a good photograph, and had
+beauty enough besides to hold my eyes.
+
+Page 257--Capitalised "W" in--Is it Daisy Randolph? What have you done
+to yourself?
+
+Page 266--changed beside to bedside in--I heard no sound while I was
+undressing, nor while I knelt, as usual now, by my bedside.
+
+Page 283--Changed rapidily to rapidly in--I watched him rapidly
+walking into the library;
+
+Page 285--Added question mark instead of period to--"Are you tired?"
+
+Page 316--Changed inmediately to immediately in--and placed himself
+immediately beside his summoner,
+
+Page 349--Changed "not" to "nor" in--"I cannot help that. He is
+neither gentlemanly in his habits nor true in his speech."
+
+Page 350--Added comma after "said" in--"You must not wear the same
+thing twice running," she said, "not if you can help it."
+
+Page 355--Changed period to question mark after "next" in--Who is
+next? Major Banks? Take care, Daisy, or you'll do some mischief."
+
+Page 374--Deleted comma after "see" in--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.
+
+Page 386--Changed subtance to substance in--men of business, men of
+character and some substance,
+
+Page 407--Changed "weel" to "well" in--"You may as well sit down and
+tell us."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy, by Elizabeth Wetherell
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy, by Elizabeth Wetherell
+
+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: January 31, 2009 [EBook #27949]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Jen Haines and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p class="top4"></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;">
+<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="480" height="712"
+alt="&quot;&#39;And you love Jesus, Darry,&#39; I said.&quot;"
+title="&quot;&#39;And you love Jesus, Darry,&#39; I said.&quot;" />
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;And you love Jesus, Darry,&#39; I said.&quot;</p>
+<p class="captionleft"><i>Daisy</i></p><p class="captionright"><i>
+<a href="#Page_59">Page 59</a></i></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1 class="top4">&nbsp;DAISY</h1>
+
+<h5>BY</h5>
+<h3>ELIZABETH WETHERELL,</h3>
+
+<h5>AUTHOR OF</h5>
+<h5>"THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," "QUEECHY,"
+ETC., ETC.</h5>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 148px;">
+<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="148" height="29" alt="logo" title="logo" />
+</div>
+
+<h4>LONDON:</h4>
+
+<h3>WARD, LOCK &amp; CO., LIMITED,</h3>
+<h4>WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.</h4>
+<h4>NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE.</h4>
+
+<!-- Page 5 -->
+
+<h2 class="top4">CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80px;">
+<img src="images/banner.jpg" width="80" height="9" alt="Bar Line" title="Bar Line" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" width="40%" summary="Contents by Chapter with Hyperlinks">
+<tr><td class="td3" colspan="2">Page</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Miss Pinshon</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">9</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">My Home</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">27</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">The Multiplication Table</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">45</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Seven Hundred People</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">68</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">In the Kitchen</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">97</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Winter and Summer</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">119</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Singlehanded</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">149</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Egyptian Glass</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">165</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Shopping</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">185</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">School</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">205</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">A Place in the World</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">226</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">French Dresses</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">244</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Grey Coats</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">275</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Yankees</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">297</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Fort Putnam</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">320</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Hops</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">338</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Obeying Orders</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">356</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">South and North</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">379</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Entered for the War</span></td>
+    <td class="td3">392</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h1 class="top4">&nbsp;DAISY</h1>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80px;">
+<img src="images/banner.jpg" width="80" height="9" alt="Bar Line" title="Bar Line" />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>MISS PINSHON.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 10 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> 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 sunlit 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 that 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
+that it was best that I should go to Magnolia with Aunt Gary and have
+a governess.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Her preparations had been made too; and the day after the<!-- Page 11 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> steamer
+sailed we set off on our journey to the south. I do not know much
+about that journey. 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 stayed 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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 12 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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<!-- Page 13 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 long endure 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,<!-- Page 14 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> 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&mdash;they were the words of the
+twenty-third Psalm&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 15 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> 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
+school-mistress?</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," my Aunt Gary said. "She must be educated, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> don't know," said Preston; "but if they say so, I suppose she
+must. Who is it to be, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;goodness! I did not see you were there, Daisy, my dear;
+but it makes no difference;&mdash;I should think it proper that she should
+be educated."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have recommended Miss Pinshon."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then, it is not fixed yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is fixed. Miss Pinshon is coming as soon as we get to
+Magnolia."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be off before that," said Preston. "Who is Miss Pinshon?"</p>
+
+<p>"How should <i>you</i> know? She has lived at Jessamine Bank,&mdash;educated the
+Dalzell girls."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of a person, mamma!"</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of a person?" said my Aunt Gary; "why a governess sort of a
+person. What sort should she be."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a foolish boy!" said Aunt Gary. "Of course if you<!-- Page 16 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy has eyes&mdash;and a head," said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>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 poetic 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Daisy, you are not obliged to care what she thinks."</p>
+
+<p>I said I thought I was.</p>
+
+<p>"What for?" said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a great deal to learn you know," I said, feeling it very
+gravely indeed in my little heart.<!-- Page 17 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What do you want to know so much?" said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>I said, everything. I was very ignorant.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"O Preston," said I, "that is very wrong. I have not any knowledge
+scarcely."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no occasion," said Preston stoutly. "I hate learned women."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you like to learn things?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's another matter," said he. "A man must know things, or he can't
+get along. Women are different."</p>
+
+<p>"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I. "I don't see how
+it is different."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Is dressing so important?" said I, with a new light breaking over me.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Ribbons 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Ruined by her gloves!" said I. "Did she buy so many?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Do <i>you</i> mean to be anything of that sort?" I said, with some want of
+connection.</p>
+
+<p>"What sort? Ruined by my gloves? Not if I know it."<!-- Page 18 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, no! I mean, a lawyer or a doctor or a professor?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think not!" said Preston, with a more emphatic denial.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, what are you studying for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because, as I told you, Daisy, a man must know things, or he cannot
+get on in the world."</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>"Equal!" cried Preston. "Equal! O 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."</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>this</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Lots of them," he said. "There isn't anything else."</p>
+
+<p>"Preston," I said presently, "I want to buy some candy somewhere."<!-- Page 19 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"No more funds?" said Preston. "Never mind&mdash;go on, and I'll help you.
+Why I never knew you liked sugarplums so much. What next? burnt
+almonds? <i>this</i> is good, Daisy&mdash;this confection of roses. But you must
+take all this sugar in small doses, or I am afraid it wouldn't be just
+beneficial."</p>
+
+<p>"O Preston!" I said&mdash;"I do not mean to eat all this myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to propitiate Miss Pinshon with it? I have a
+presentiment that sweets won't sweeten her, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what 'propitiate' means," I said, sighing. "I will not
+take the almonds, Preston."</p>
+
+<p>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 had purposed; and after the rose he
+ordered candied fruits; till a great packet of varieties was made up.
+Preston paid for them&mdash;I could not help it&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 20 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> what I had
+expected, so different that I walked up to her in a maze, and yet
+seemed to recognize 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 <i>do</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>that</i> to my father's and mother's fancy; and agreed that
+she thought cropped heads were<!-- Page 21 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Of <i>what</i>? What did you say?" inquired my governess.</p>
+
+<p>"Of driving, ma'am. Daisy is an excellent whip for her years and
+strength."</p>
+
+<p>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 in 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it was not here," said my aunt; "it was at the North, where the
+roads are not like our pine forest. However the roads were not
+dangerous there, that I know of; not for anybody but a child. But
+horses and carriages are always dangerous."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 22 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You can read, I suppose?" my governess went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"And write, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Come back to the driving, Daisy," said Preston. "That is one thing
+you do know. And English history, I will bear witness."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you got there, Preston?" my aunt asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Some horehound drops, mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't a sore throat?" she asked, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am&mdash;not just now, but I had yesterday; and I thought I would
+be provided."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem provided for a long time," Miss Pinshon remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not want all that," said his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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>I</i> don't
+remember any Uncle Lot."</p>
+
+<p>Preston turned to leave the room with his candy, and in turning gave
+me a look of such supreme fun and mischief that at<!-- Page 23 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> another time I
+could hardly have helped laughing. But Miss Pinshon was asking me if I
+understood arithmetic?</p>
+
+<p>"I think&mdash;I know very little about it," I said hesitating. "I can do a
+sum."</p>
+
+<p>"In what?"</p>
+
+<p>"On the slate, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but in what?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, ma'am&mdash;it is adding up the columns."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, in <i>addition</i>, then. Do you know the multiplication and division
+tables?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Go and get off your things, and then come back to me; and I will have
+some more talk with you."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I declare," said Preston, who waited for me on the landing, "she
+falls into position easy! Does she think she is going to take <i>that</i>
+tone with you?"</p>
+
+<p>I made no answer. Preston followed me into my room.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't have it, little Daisy. Nobody shall be mistress at Magnolia
+but you. This woman shall not. See, Daisy&mdash;I am going to put these
+things in my trunk for you, until we get where you want them. That
+will be safe."</p>
+
+<p>I thanked him.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am going downstairs, as soon as I am ready."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you expect to be under all the commands this High Mightiness may
+think proper to lay upon you?"</p>
+
+<p>I begged him to be still and leave me.<!-- Page 24 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;not one, do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>I heard too well. I faced round upon him and begged him to remember
+that it was my <i>mother</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 25 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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 year 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?'"</p>
+
+<p>I knew what <i>I</i> meant by quantity; but whether the English language
+had anything in common for Miss Pinshon and me, I had great doubts. I
+hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Health has prevented her applying to her studies," said my aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"The want of health. Yes, I suppose so. I hope Daisy will be very well
+now, for we must make up for lost time."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>So now there was nobody about me who would be easily alarmed. I took
+the full force of that.<!-- Page 26 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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!<!-- Page 27 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>MY HOME.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 28 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Magnolia, Daisy," said my aunt. "This is your house."<!-- Page 29 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It appears a fine place," said Miss Pinshon.</p>
+
+<p>"It is one of the finest on the river. This is your property, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"It is papa's," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is mamma's and papa's," I pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>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 farthest 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<!-- Page 30 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+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 play-ground 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 usher 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.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a proud place!" my governess remarked.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 31 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 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.</p>
+
+<p>My aunt presently called me from the window, and bade me let Margaret
+take off my things. I got leave to go upstairs with Margaret and take
+them off there. So I ran up the low easy flight of stairs&mdash;they were
+wooden and uncarpeted&mdash;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<!-- Page 32 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> 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 <i>they</i> were here, it would be so happy!
+If they were here&mdash;oh, if they were here!</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Not found it yet?" said Preston. "Is this it? Whose room is this,
+hey?&mdash;you somebody?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maggie, massa," said the girl, dropping a curtsey.</p>
+
+<p>"Maggie, where is your mistress's room?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is Mis' 'Liza's room, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! Miss 'Liza is only here on a visit&mdash;<i>this</i> is your
+mistress. Where is her room, hey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh stop, Preston!" I begged him. "I am not mistress."</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;she was a
+pleasant-faced mulatto, very eager to help me&mdash;and left to myself I
+hurriedly turned the key in the lock. I <i>must</i> 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 deso<!-- Page 33 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>late. 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?</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner the ladies went upstairs 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<!-- Page 34 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> 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 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Edwards?" I asked, as we sped joyfully away through the oaks,
+across shade and sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he is the overseer."</p>
+
+<p>"What is an overseer?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is an overseer?&mdash;why, he is the man that looks after things."</p>
+
+<p>"What things?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"All the things&mdash;everything, Daisy; all the affairs of the plantation;
+the rice fields and the cotton fields and the people, and everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the stables? and where are we going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here&mdash;just here&mdash;a little way off. They are just in a dell over
+here&mdash;the other side of the house, where the quarters are."<!-- Page 35 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Quarters?" I repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"So the house is between two dells," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"We's happy to see Miss Daisy at her own home. Hope de Lord bress
+her."</p>
+
+<p>My heart warmed at these words like the ice-bound earth in a spring
+day. They were not carelessly spoken, nor was the welcome.<!-- Page 36 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Very far, massa; very far. Him no good for not'ing."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll do, Darius," said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"For little missis? Just big enough, massa. Got no tricks at all, only
+he no like work. Not much spring in him."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," I said. "But wait a minute, Preston. Who lives in all those
+houses?"</p>
+
+<p>"The people. The hands. They are away in the fields at work now."</p>
+
+<p>"Does Darius live there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. They all live here."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to go nearer, and see the houses."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, it is nothing on earth to see. They are all just alike, and
+you see them from here."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to look in," I said, moving down the slope.<!-- Page 37 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said Preston, "you are just as fond of having your way
+as&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As what? I do not think I am, Preston."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose nobody thinks he is," grumbled Preston, following me,
+"except the fellows who can't get it."</p>
+
+<p>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 swart 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 be 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.<!-- Page 38 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Preston," I said, after a silence of a few minutes,&mdash;"there seemed to
+be no women in those cottages. I did not see any."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not," said Preston; "because there were not any to see."</p>
+
+<p>"But had all those little babies no mothers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course, Daisy; but they were in the field."</p>
+
+<p>"The mothers of those little babies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. What about it? Look here&mdash;are you getting tired?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I never came here myself," said Preston, "but I know it must lead out
+upon the river somewhere, and that's what I am<!-- Page 39 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> after. Hollo! we are
+coming to something. There is something white through the trees. I
+declare, I believe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>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 on 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to bring you here," said Preston, "I did not know I
+was bringing you here. Come, Daisy&mdash;we'll go and try again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh stop!" I said&mdash;"I like it. I want to look at it."</p>
+
+<p>"It is the cemetery," said Preston. "That tall column is the monument
+of our great&mdash;no, of our great-great-grandfather; and this brown one
+is for mamma's father. Come, Daisy!&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a little," I said. "Whose is that with the vase on top?"</p>
+
+<p>"Vase?" said Preston&mdash;"it's an urn. It is an urn, Daisy. People do not
+put vases on tombstones."</p>
+
+<p>I asked what the difference was.</p>
+
+<p>"The difference? O Daisy, Daisy! Why vases are to put flowers in; and
+urns&mdash;I'll tell you, Daisy,&mdash;I believe it is because<!-- Page 40 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not see how," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why because an urn comes to be an emblem of mortality and all that.
+Come, Daisy; let us go."</p>
+
+<p>"I think a vase of flowers would be a great deal nicer," I said. "We
+do not keep the ashes of our friends."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't put signs of joy over their graves either," said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think we might," I said meditatively. "When people have gone
+to Jesus&mdash;they must be very glad!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Those? Oh, those are for the people, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"The people?" I repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the people&mdash;the hands."</p>
+
+<p>"There are a great many of them," I remarked.<!-- Page 41 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think," said I, looking at the little board slips and
+crosses among the pine cones on the ground,&mdash;"I should think they
+would like to have something nicer to put up over their graves."</p>
+
+<p>"Nicer? those are good enough," said Preston. "Good enough for them."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor people!" cried Preston. "Why these are the <i>hands</i>, Daisy,&mdash;the
+coloured people. What do they want of monuments?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't they care?" said I, wondering.</p>
+
+<p>"Who cares if they care? I don't know whether they care," said
+Preston, quite out of patience with me, I thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Only, if they cared, I should think they would have something nicer,"
+I said. "Where do they all go to church, Preston?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"These people?"</p>
+
+<p>"What people? The families along the river do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said I; "I mean <i>our</i> people&mdash;these people; the hands. You
+say there are hundreds of them. Where do they go to church?"</p>
+
+<p>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!"<!-- Page 42 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nowhere, I reckon."</p>
+
+<p>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 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.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want me to do that for, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because Aunt Gary told Miss Pinshon that we have to drive six miles
+to go to church. Do ask him where they go!"</p>
+
+<p>"They don't go <i>anywhere</i>, 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Make a muss!" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>This did by no means quiet me. I insisted that Preston should stop the
+man; and at last he did. 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.<!-- Page 43 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sambo, your mistress wants to speak to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, massa. I's George, massa."</p>
+
+<p>"George," said I, "I want to know where you go to church?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, missis. What missis want to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you and all the rest go to church?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon don't go nowhar, missis."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you ever go to church?"</p>
+
+<p>"Church for white folks, missis; bery far; long ways to ride."</p>
+
+<p>"But you and the rest of the people&mdash;don't you go anywhere to church?
+to hear preaching?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon not, missis. De preachin's don't come dis way, likely."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you read the Bible, George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno read, missis. Never had no larnin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Then don't you know anything about what is in the Bible? don't you
+know about Jesus?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon don't know not'ing, missis."</p>
+
+<p>"About Jesus?" said I again.</p>
+
+<p>"'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."</p>
+
+<p>"There!" exclaimed Preston, "that will do. You go off to your supper,
+George&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"They have no time on Sundays?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Time to sleep. That is what they do. That is the only<!-- Page 44 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> thing a negro
+cares about, to go to sleep in the sun. It's all nonsense, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"They would care about something else, I dare say," I answered, "if
+they could get it."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 45 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">MY life at Magnolia might be said to begin when I came downstairs 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<!-- Page 46 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> was
+brought in. Miss Pinshon took the magazine out of my hand.</p>
+
+<p>"She has a good voice, but she wants expression," was her remark.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not understand what she was reading," said my Aunt Gary.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor anybody else," said Preston. "How are you going to give
+expression, when there is nothing to express?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not in anything," said my aunt. "I dare say she wants a good deal
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>"We will try," said Miss Pinshon.</p>
+
+<p>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 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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 47 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, missis, may I be Miss Daisy's girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will ask Aunt Gary," I answered, a good deal surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy is the mistress. We all belong to Miss Daisy. It will be
+as she say."</p>
+
+<p>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
+nightgown 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I will ask Aunt Gary," I said; "and I think she will let you build my
+fire, Margaret."<!-- Page 48 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thank'e, ma'am. First-rate fires. I'll make, Miss Daisy. We'se all so
+glad Miss Daisy come to Magnoly."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't any church big enough to hold all de people," she said. "Guess
+we coloured folks has to go widout."</p>
+
+<p>"But where <i>is</i> the church?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't none, Miss Daisy. People enough to make a church full all
+himselves."</p>
+
+<p>"And don't you want to go?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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 carefully with the toilet duties which busied her;
+and I was puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you never hear of Jesus?" I said presently. "Don't you know that
+He loves poor people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon He loves rich people de best, Miss Daisy," the girl said, in a
+dry tone.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 49 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Margaret," said I at last, "is there no place where you can go
+to hear about the things in the Bible?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, missis; I never goes."</p>
+
+<p>"And does not anybody, except Darry when he goes with the carriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't, Miss Daisy; it's miles and miles; and no place for niggers
+neither."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you read the Bible, Margaret?"</p>
+
+<p>"Guess not, missis; we's too stupid; ain't good for coloured folks to
+read."</p>
+
+<p>"Does <i>nobody</i>, among all the people, read the Bible?" said I, once
+more stopping Margaret in my dismay.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Darry&mdash;he does," said the girl; "and he do 'spoun some; but I
+don't make no count of his 'spoundations."</p>
+
+<p>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 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&mdash;what could I do? And I asked the Lord, what could I
+do? but I did not see the answer.<!-- Page 50 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Feeling the question on my two shoulders, I went downstairs. 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 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.</p>
+
+<p>"An excellent plan," said Miss Pinshon, when we had risen from our
+knees and the servants had filed off.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," my aunt said, somewhat as if it needed an apology;&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you have the same sort of thing on Sundays, for the
+out-of-door hands?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said my aunt. It was somewhat more abrupt than polite; but she
+probably felt that Miss Pinshon was a governess.</p>
+
+<p>"There were only the house servants gathered this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course; part of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any similar system of teaching for those who are outside? I
+think you told me they have no church to go to."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to know what 'system' you would adopt," said my aunt,
+"to reach seven hundred people."</p>
+
+<p>"A church and a minister would not be a bad thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Or we might all turn missionaries," said Preston; "and go<!-- Page 51 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> among them
+with bags of Bibles round our necks. We might all turn missionaries."</p>
+
+<p>"Colporteurs," said Miss Pinshon.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about that," said my aunt. "I doubt whether a church and
+a minister would be beneficial."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have a nation of heathen at your doors," said Miss Pinshon.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"They must be very dark if they could not understand light," said my
+governess.</p>
+
+<p>"Just as people that are very light cannot understand darkness," said
+Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Joram is a heathen himself, you know, mother," said Preston.
+"Don't hold <i>him</i> up."</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 52 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Miss Pinshon made no remark whatever in answer to this statement; and
+the rest of the talk at the breakfast-table was about rice.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast my school life at Magnolia began. It seemed 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.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Pinshon bade me come with her to the room she and my aunt had
+agreed should be the schoolroom. It was the back 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
+bookcases; a large escritoire; a terrestrial globe; a thermometer and
+a 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 handing one or two
+books on the table. I stood meek and helpless, expectant.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you read any history, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>I said no; then I said yes, I had; a little.</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little of the history of England last summer."</p>
+
+<p>"Not of your own country?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."<!-- Page 53 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And no ancient history?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"You know nothing of the division of the nations, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"And arithmetic is something you do not understand," pursued Miss
+Pinshon. "Come here, and let me see how you can write."</p>
+
+<p>With trembling, stiff little fingers&mdash;I feel them yet&mdash;I wrote some
+lines under my governess's eye.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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; then my<!-- Page 54 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, where are your thoughts?"</p>
+
+<p>I hastily brought my eyes and wits home and answered, "Out upon the
+lawn, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you find the multiplication table there?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>to</i> 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&mdash;could it be there was no other way but by my weak little
+voice&mdash;through which some of them were ever<!-- Page 55 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> to learn about my dear
+Saviour? I had got very far from mathematics, and my book fell. I
+heard Miss Pinshon's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, come here."</p>
+
+<p>I obeyed and came to the table, where my governess was installed in
+the leather chair of my grandfather. She always used it.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to know what you are doing."</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I give you thinking to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am; not of that kind."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking, and remembering&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pray what were you remembering?"</p>
+
+<p>"Things at home&mdash;and other things."</p>
+
+<p>"Things and things," said Miss Pinshon. "That is not a very elegant
+way of speaking. Let me hear how much you have learned."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You must learn attention," she said. "I can do nothing with you until
+you have succeeded in that. You <i>must</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 56 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>I had no appetite. Preston was in a fume of vexation, partly aroused
+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 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 stayed on my knees; then I was
+strong for the fives and sixes.<!-- Page 57 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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, and all these people were without what was the
+jewel of my life. And they my mother's servants! my father's
+dependants! What could I do?</p>
+
+<p>The dell was alone in the yellow sunlight which poured over<!-- Page 58 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> 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"&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I asked him what he was singing about home? and where his home was? He
+turned his face full upon 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Home ain't nowheres here, missie," he said. "I'm 'spectin' to go by
+and by."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean home up <i>there</i>?" said I, lifting my finger towards the
+sky. Darry fairly laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"'Spect don't want no other home, missie. Heaven good enough."</p>
+
+<p>I stood watching him as he rubbed down the black horse, feeling surely
+that he and I would be friends.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is your home here, Darry?"<!-- Page 59 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I got a place down there, little missie&mdash;not fur."</p>
+
+<p>"When you have done that horse, will you show me your place? I want to
+see where you live."</p>
+
+<p>"Missie want to see Darry's house?" said he, showing his white teeth.
+"Missie shall see what she mind to. I allus keeps Sadler till the
+last, 'cause he's ontractable."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can read, Uncle Darry?" I said, pitching on the only thing
+that pleased me.</p>
+
+<p>"De good Lord, He give me dat happiness," the man answered gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Bress de Lord! Do Miss Daisy love Him, den?"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 60 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> 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&mdash;if I would send him
+for "su'thing"&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Darry, does no one else but you read the Bible?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked dark and troubled. "Missie sees&mdash;de folks for most part got
+no learning. Dey no read, sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you read the Bible to them, Darry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy knows, dere ain't no great time. Dey's in the field all
+day, most days, and dey hab no time for to hear."</p>
+
+<p>"But Sundays?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Do try," he said, looking graver yet. "Me do 'tempt su'thing. But
+missie knows, de Sabbat' be de only day de people hab, and dey tink
+mostly of oder tings."</p>
+
+<p>"And there is no church for you all to go to?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, missis; no church."</p>
+
+<p>There was a sad tone in his answer. I did not know how to go on. I
+turned to something else.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Darry, I don't think your home looks very comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>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
+<i>comfortable</i>. It was cold.</p>
+
+<p>"Sun warm, Miss Daisy. De good Lord, He make His sun warm. And dere be
+fires enough."<!-- Page 61 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But it is very empty," I said. "You want something more in it, to
+make it look nice."</p>
+
+<p>"It never empty, Miss Daisy, when de Lord Hisself be here. And He not
+leave His chil'n alone. Miss Daisy know dat?"</p>
+
+<p>I stretched forth my little hand and laid it in Darry's great black
+palm. There was an absolute confidence established between us.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Darry," I said, "I <i>do</i> love Him&mdash;but sometimes, I want to see
+papa!&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"De time pass quick, and Miss Daisy see her pa'," he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>I did not think the time passed quick. I said so.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 62 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't all these little babies got mothers!" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"For sure, Miss Daisy&mdash;dey's got modders."</p>
+
+<p>"Where <i>are</i> the mothers of all these babies, Darry?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey's in de field, Miss Daisy. Home d'rectly."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they working like <i>men</i> in the fields!" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey's all at work," said Darry.</p>
+
+<p>"Do they do the same work as the men?"</p>
+
+<p>"All alike, Miss Daisy." Darry's answers were not hearty.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>you</i> got any, Uncle Darry?"<!-- Page 63 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'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.</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't you make it for yourself, Uncle Darry?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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 work-people 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere be a saddle," Darry said, doubtfully. "Massa Preston he done got
+a saddle dis very day. Dunno where Massa Preston can be."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 64 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Darry, I want to get on him&mdash;may I?"</p>
+
+<p>"O' course&mdash;Miss Daisy do what she mind to. Him bery good, only some
+lazy."</p>
+
+<p>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 the 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 to 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<!-- Page 65 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+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 the way that boded a landing on the ground
+every next time.</p>
+
+<p>I was not timid with animals, whatever might be true of me in other
+relations. My first comfort was finding that I did <i>not</i> 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 <i>should</i> 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
+that I <i>must</i> 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.<!-- Page 66 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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 drew 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 <i>felt</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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. I gave Preston no answer to his charges and reproaches. At
+last I said I was tired and I wished he would not talk.<!-- Page 67 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tired! you are something besides tired," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I am," I answered with great deliberation.</p>
+
+<p>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 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 upstairs
+to my own room.<!-- Page 68 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>SEVEN HUNDRED PEOPLE.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">DO you think that was a proper thing to do, Daisy?" my governess
+asked when she released me.</p>
+
+<p>"What thing, ma'am?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"To tear about on that great grey pony."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"You think it <i>was</i> proper?" said Miss Pinshon, coolly. "Whom had you
+with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody was riding with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Your cousin was there?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Who then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had Uncle Darry. I was only riding up and down the dell."</p>
+
+<p>"The coachman! And were you riding up and through the quarters all the
+afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"What were you doing the rest of the time?"<!-- Page 69 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was going about&mdash;&mdash;" I hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"About where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Through the place there."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You can lock the other door."</p>
+
+<p>"But I want both locked."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not. This door remains open, Daisy. I must come in here when I
+please. Now make haste and get ready."</p>
+
+<p>I had no time for anything but to obey. I went downstairs, 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.<!-- Page 70 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You have just tired yourself with mounting that wild thing, Daisy,"
+said my Aunt Gary.</p>
+
+<p>"Wild!" said Preston. "About as wild as a tame sloth."</p>
+
+<p>"I always heard that was very wild indeed," said Miss Pinshon. "The
+sloth cannot be tamed, can it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Being stupid already, I suppose not," said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy looks pale at any rate," said my aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Preston almost groaned; pushed his chair from the table, and I knew
+sat watching me. I would give him no opportunity, for <i>my</i> 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<!-- Page 71 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> 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 heard 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<!-- Page 72 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> children, the barrier in my
+heart gave way, my tears gushed forth; my head lay on the window-sill
+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,
+heartbreaking sobs, for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 opened the next
+morning to look at Margaret lighting my fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret," I said, "shut Miss Pinshon's door, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>She obeyed, and then turning to look at me, exclaimed that I was not
+well.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you say you could not read, Margaret?" was my answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Read! no, missis. Guess readin' ain't no good for servants. Seems
+like Miss Daisy ain't lookin' peart this mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you <i>like</i> to read?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon don't care about it, Miss Daisy. Where'd us get books, most
+likely?"</p>
+
+<p>I said I would get the books; but Margaret turned to the<!-- Page 73 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> fire and
+made me no answer. I heard her mutter some ejaculation.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon folks ain't a heap better that knows the Bible," said the
+girl. "'Pears as if it don't make no difference. Ain't nobody good in
+<i>this</i> place, 'cept Uncle Darry."</p>
+
+<p>"In another minute I was out of bed and standing before the fire, my
+hand on her shoulder. I told her I wanted <i>her</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 downstairs. 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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 74 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"My Father's house is built on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i65">Far, far above the starry sky;</span><br />
+<span class="i65">And though like Lazarus sick and poor,</span><br />
+<span class="i65">My heavenly mansion is secure.</span><br />
+<span class="i115">I'm going home,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i115">I'm going home,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i115">I'm going home</span><br />
+<span class="i135">To die no more!</span><br />
+<span class="i115">To die no more&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i115">To die no more&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i115">I'm going home</span><br />
+<span class="i135">To die no more!"</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p><!-- Page 75 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing here, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am doing nothing," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is almost tea-time. Hadn't you better be walking home, before
+Medusa comes looking out for you?"</p>
+
+<p>I rose up, and bade Uncle Darry good-night.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, missis," he said heartily, "and de morning dat hab no
+night, for my dear little missis, by'm by."</p>
+
+<p>I gave him my hand, and walked on.</p>
+
+<p>"Stuff!" muttered Preston, by my side.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not think it 'stuff' when the time comes," I said, no doubt
+very gravely. Then Preston burst out.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>that</i> tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me what is the matter with you?" he said, at last, very
+impatiently.<!-- Page 76 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am tired, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Think? Medusa is stiffening the life out of you. <i>Think</i> you are
+tired! You are tired to death; but that is not all. What ails you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think anything ails me."</p>
+
+<p>"What ails <i>me</i>, then? What is the matter? What makes you act so?
+Speak, Daisy&mdash;you must speak!"</p>
+
+<p>I turned about and faced him, and I know I did not speak then as a
+child, but with a gravity befitting fifty years.</p>
+
+<p>"Preston, did you strike Uncle Darry yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" said Preston. But I stood and waited for his answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Daisy!" he said again.</p>
+
+<p>"What is nonsense?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, <i>you</i>. What are you talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I asked you a question."</p>
+
+<p>"A ridiculous question. You are just absurd."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you please to answer it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether I will. What have you to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place, Preston, Darry is not your servant."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word!" said Preston. "But yes, he is; for mamma is regent
+here now. He must do what I order him anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Defend himself!" echoed Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You insulted him yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"Insulted him!"</p>
+
+<p>"You know you did. You know, Preston, some men would<!-- Page 77 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> not have borne
+it. If Darry had been like some men, he would have knocked you down."</p>
+
+<p>"Knocked me down!" cried Preston. "The sneaking old scoundrel! He
+knows that I would shoot him if he did."</p>
+
+<p>"I am speaking seriously, Preston. It is no use to talk that way."</p>
+
+<p>"I am speaking very seriously," said my cousin. "I would shoot him,
+upon my honour."</p>
+
+<p>"Shoot him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"What right have you to shoot a man for doing no worse than you do? I
+would <i>rather</i> somebody would knock me down, than do what you did
+yesterday." And my heart swelled within me.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Insult!" said Preston. "Lose his place! Heavens and earth, Daisy! are
+you such a simpleton?"</p>
+
+<p>"You insulted him badly yesterday. I wondered how he bore it of you;
+only Darry is a Christian."</p>
+
+<p>"A fiddlestick!" said Preston impatiently. "He knows he must bear
+whatever I choose to give him; and therein he is wiser than you are."</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is a Christian," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 78 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Preston! he is a good man&mdash;he is a servant of God; he will wear a
+crown of gold in heaven; and you have dared to touch him."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you order him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I ordered him not to show you the saddle I had got for you, till I
+was here. I was going to surprise you. I am provoked at him!"</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I asked for the saddle," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Daisy, Daisy!" Preston exclaimed, "don't be such a child. You
+know nothing about it. I didn't touch Darry to hurt him."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a sort of hurt that if he had not been a Christian he would
+have made you sorry for."</p>
+
+<p>"He knows I would shoot him if he did," said Preston coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"Preston, don't speak so!" I pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the simple truth. Why shouldn't I speak it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You do not mean that you would do it?" I said, scarce opening my eyes
+to the reality of what he said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 79 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shouldn't," said Preston. "The law takes better care of us than
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"The law would hang you," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, Daisy, it is no such thing! Gentlemen have a right to
+defend themselves against the insolence of these black fellows."</p>
+
+<p>"And have not the black fellows a right to defend themselves against
+the insolence of gentlemen?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, you are talking the most unspeakable nonsense," said Preston,
+quite put beyond himself now. "<i>Don't</i> you know any better than that?
+These people are our servants&mdash;they are our property&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"A man may be your servant, but he cannot be your property," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes he can! They are our property, just as much as the land is; our
+goods to do as we like with. Didn't you know that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Property is something that you can buy and sell," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"And we sell the people, and buy them too, as fast as we like."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sell</i> them!" I echoed, thinking of Darry.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"And who would buy them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why all the world; everybody. There has been nobody sold off the
+Magnolia estate, I believe, in a long time; but no<!-- Page 80 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>thing is more
+common, Daisy; everybody is doing it everywhere, when he has got too
+many servants, or when he has got too few."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you mean," said I, "that Darry and Margaret and Theresa and
+all the rest here, have been <i>bought</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; almost all of them have been born on the place."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is not true of these," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is; for their mothers and fathers were bought. It is the same
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Who bought them?" I asked, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Why our mothers, and grandfather and great-grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bought</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly&mdash;ages ago," said Preston. "Why, Daisy, I thought you knew
+all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"But who sold them first?" said I, my mind in its utter rejection of
+what was told to me, seeking every refuge from accepting it. "Who sold
+them first?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who first? Oh, the people that brought them over from Africa, I
+suppose; or the people in their own country that sold them to <i>them</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"They had no right to sell them," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't tell about that," said Preston. "We bought them. I suppose we
+had a right to do that."</p>
+
+<p>"But if the fathers and mothers were bought," I insisted, "that gave
+us no right to have their children."</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 81 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That land would be here all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"Much good the land would do you, without people to work it."</p>
+
+<p>"But other people could be hired as well as these," I said, "if any of
+these wanted to go away."</p>
+
+<p>"No, they couldn't. White people cannot bear the climate nor do the
+work. The crops cannot be raised without coloured labour."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand," said I, feeling my child's head puzzled. "Maybe
+none of our people would like to go away?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Forbid them to have meat!" I said, in utter bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But don't they get what they choose to eat?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I should think not!" said Preston. "Fancy their asking to be
+fed on chickens and pound cake. That is what they would like."</p>
+
+<p>"But cannot they spend their wages for what they like?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wages!" said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>He stooped to kiss me, but I stepped back.<!-- Page 82 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Stop," I said. "Tell me&mdash;can't they do what they like with their
+wages?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think they have wages enough to 'do what they like' exactly,"
+said Preston. "Why, they would 'like' to do nothing. These black
+fellows are the laziest things living. They would 'like' to lie in the
+sun all day long."</p>
+
+<p>"What wages does Darry have?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Daisy, this is none of your business. Come, let us go into the
+house and let it alone."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know, first," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, I never asked. What have I to do with Darry's wages?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will ask himself," I said; and I turned about to go to the stables.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;these
+people don't want wages."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't want wages?" I repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You said they did not have the food they liked," I objected.</p>
+
+<p>"Who does?" said Preston. "I am sure <i>I</i> don't&mdash;not more than one day
+in seven, on an average."</p>
+
+<p>"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<!-- Page 83 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> Darry have wages, too? Don't they
+have any wages at all, Preston?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes! they have plenty of corn, bread, and bacon, I tell you; and
+their clothes. Daisy, they <i>belong</i> to you, these people do."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Why shouldn't they have wages?" I asked at length, with lips which I
+believe were growing old with my thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, they are your servants; they <i>belong</i> to you. They have no
+right to wages. Suppose you had to pay all these creatures&mdash;seven
+hundred of them&mdash;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!"</p>
+
+<p>"But they work for us," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what pays them for working?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you! they have their living and clothing and no care; and they
+are the happiest creatures the sun shines on."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they willing to work for only that!" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Willing!" said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said I, feeling myself grow sick at heart.</p>
+
+<p>"I fancy nobody asks them that question. They have to work, I reckon,
+whether they like it or no."<!-- Page 84 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You said they <i>like</i> to lie in the sun. What makes them work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Makes them!" said Preston, who was getting irritated as well as
+impatient. "They get a good flogging if they do not work&mdash;that is all.
+They know, if they don't do their part, the lash will come down: and
+it don't come down easy."</p>
+
+<p>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 rested, 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&mdash;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;&mdash;and <i>papa</i> 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<!-- Page 85 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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"&mdash;"homesick"&mdash;"feeble"&mdash;"with no sort of
+strength to bear anything"&mdash;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<!-- Page 86 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
+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 could have borne a good deal of pain.</p>
+
+<p>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 be, 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 among the fumes and
+vapours that 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 in the world; and <i>he</i> was one of
+the oppressors. There<!-- Page 87 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> is no sorrow that a child can bear, keener and
+more gnawingly bitter than this. It has a sting of 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.</p>
+
+<p>I could not write as I do&mdash;I could not recall these thoughts and that
+time&mdash;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, 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.<!-- Page 88 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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 every soft word and tender look on their
+faces&mdash;and I had many a one, both words and looks&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;though I was so weak, I remember I
+reeled as I went from my bed to the fire, and steadied myself by
+laying my hand on Mammy Theresa's shoulder. I demanded of Margaret
+<i>what</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twarn't nothin', Miss Daisy, dear!" said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! don't tell me that," I said. "Tell me what it was&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twarn't nothin', Miss Daisy&mdash;only about Darry."</p>
+
+<p>"What about Darry?" I said, trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"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'."<!-- Page 89 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Whose rules?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Who made the rules?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who make 'em? Mass' Ed'ards&mdash;he made de rules on dis plantation.
+Reckon Mass' Randolph, he make 'em a heap different."</p>
+
+<p>"Does Mr. Edwards make it a rule that you are not to hold
+prayer-meetings?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And does anybody say that you shall not have prayer-meetings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Laws, honey! what's we got to do wid praise-meetin's or any sort of
+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."</p>
+
+<p>"And does he forbid them then? doesn't he let you have
+prayer-meetings?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Tain't 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
+comin' for. And it's no use asking Mr. Edwards, 'cause he don't see no
+reason why black folks should have meetin's."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Darry have a prayer-meeting without leave?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twarn't no count of a meetin'!" said Theresa, a little touch<!-- Page 90 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> 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; 'tain't big enough to hold 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"And what did the overseer do to Darry?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Laws, Miss Daisy," said Margaret, with a quick look at the other
+woman; "he didn't do nothing to hurt Darry; he only want to scare de
+folks."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey's done scared," said Theresa, under her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"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
+inquiry: "how did he know about the meeting? and what did he do to
+Darry? Tell me! I must know. I must know, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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'&mdash;Pete, he tell me. Darry warn't saying not'ing&mdash;he just pray
+'Dy will be done.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" I said, for Margaret kept silent.</p>
+
+<p>"And de oberseer, he say&mdash;leastways he swore, he did&mdash;dat <i>his</i> will
+should be done on dis plantation, and he wouldn't have no such work.
+He say, der'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."<!-- Page 91 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But what did he do to Darry?" I could scarcely hold myself on my feet
+by this time.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"He don't have a light hand, Mass' Ed'ards," went on Theresa, "and he
+got a sharp, new whip. De second stripe&mdash;Pete, he tell me this
+evenin'&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Wet?</i>" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Laws, Miss Daisy," said Margaret, "'tain't nothin'. Them whips, they
+draws the blood easy. Darry, he don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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<!-- Page 92 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>had</i>, I thought; and at those times
+my longing was un<!-- Page 93 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>speakable 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 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;never!"</p>
+
+<p>"Try a different regimen to-morrow, I think," said my governess, whose
+lustrous black eyes looked at me sick, exactly as they looked at me
+well.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall send for the doctor, if she isn't better," said my aunt.
+"She's feverish now."</p>
+
+<p>"Keeping her bed all day," said Miss Pinshon.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so?" said my aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt of it. It is very weakening."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we will let her get up to-morrow, and see how that will do."</p>
+
+<p>They had been gone half an hour, when Preston stole in and came to the
+side of my bed, between me and the firelight.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Not till you have told Darry you are sorry," I said.<!-- Page 94 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Preston was angry instantly, and stood upright.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask pardon of a servant!" he said. "You would have the world upside
+down directly."</p>
+
+<p>I thought it was upside down already; but I was too weak and
+downhearted to say so.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, Daisy!" said Preston&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>"If you will do what is right," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I will&mdash;always," said Preston; "but this would be wrong, you know."
+And he stooped again to kiss me. And again I would not suffer him.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Know anything about what, Daisy? You are as oracular and as immovable
+as one of Egypt's monuments; only they are very hard, and you are very
+soft, my dear little Daisy!&mdash;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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am so tired, Preston!"<!-- Page 95 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but what is it I don't know anything about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Darry's place&mdash;and yours," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>you</i> be?"</p>
+
+<p>These words were said without the least heat of manner&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"You have offended one of the King's children," I said; "and the King
+is offended."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said Preston, in a sort of suppressed fury, "one would think
+you had turned Abolitionist; only you never heard of such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" said I, shutting my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford is a Yankee," I remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you get it from <i>him</i>?" Preston asked, fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said I, opening my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Your nonsense. Has he taught you to turn Abolitionist?"<!-- Page 96 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have not <i>turned</i> at all," I said. "I wish you would. It is only
+the people who are in the wrong that ought to turn."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you had gone two days ago," I said.</p>
+
+<p>And my mind did not change, even when the morning came.<!-- Page 97 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE KITCHEN.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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!</p>
+
+<p>"She isn't a child that likes play," said my aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Find some play that she does like, then. Where are her father and
+mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just sailed for Europe, a few weeks ago."</p>
+
+<p>"The best thing would be for her to sail after them," said the old
+doctor. And he went.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall have to let her do just as they did at Melbourne," said my
+aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"How was that?" said Miss Pinshon.</p>
+
+<p>"Let her have just her own way."</p>
+
+<p>"And what was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, queer," said my aunt. "She is not like other children. But
+anything is better than to have her mope to death."<!-- Page 98 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I shall try and not have her mope," said Miss Pinshon.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 99 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> to interfere. Also I complained
+that the inside of the cabins were 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 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 100 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> 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 <i>was</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works
+and glorify your Father which is in heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i> is what I have to do!" I thought immediately. "That is my
+part. That is clear. What <i>I</i> have to do, is to let my light shine.
+And if the light shines, perhaps it will fall on something. But what
+<i>I</i> have to do, is to shine. God has given me nothing else."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;if I could&mdash;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!</p>
+
+<p>It was a good deal of a puzzle to me for days after that, <i>how</i> 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<!-- Page 101 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> bearing them well did not seem
+to me to come within the sphere of <i>shining</i>. Who would know that I
+bore them well? And shining is meant to be seen. I pondered the
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>"When's Christmas, Miss Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be two weeks from Friday, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"And Friday's to-morrow?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The day after to-morrow. What do you do at Christmas, Margaret? all
+the people?"</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't no great doings, Miss Daisy. The people gets four days,
+most of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Four days&mdash;for what?"</p>
+
+<p>"For what they like; they don't do no work, those days."</p>
+
+<p>"And is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Miss Daisy, 'tain't just all; the women comes up to the
+house&mdash;it's to the overseer's house now&mdash;and every one gets a bowl o'
+flour, more or less, 'cordin' to size of family&mdash;and a quart of
+molasses, and a piece o' pork."</p>
+
+<p>"And what do they do to make the time pleasant?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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'."</p>
+
+<p>"A prayer-meeting?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Laws, no, Miss Daisy! not 'cept it were Uncle Darry and <i>his</i> set.
+The others don't make no count of a prayer-meetin'. They likes to have
+a white-folks' meetin' and 'joy theirselves."</p>
+
+<p>I thought very much over these statements; and for the next<!-- Page 102 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't have meetin's, no how!" Margaret replied decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"But if <i>I</i> wanted to see them, couldn't they, some of them, come
+together to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"To see Miss Daisy! Reckon Miss Daisy do what she like. 'Spect Mass'
+Ed'ards let Miss Daisy 'lone!"</p>
+
+<p>I was silent, pondering.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I? I'll come if I can," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>I asked my aunt and got easy leave; and on 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 me, 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
+upstairs. And <i>grace</i> is not a misapplied epithet; for these children
+of a luxurious and beauty-<!-- Page 103 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>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.</p>
+
+<p>The kitchen was all aglow with the most splendid 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 door; 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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 104 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> bade Darry see to the boiling of the kettle at the fire;
+and sent Jem, the waiter, for things he was to get upstairs; 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;I did not know what it was, only it looked
+beautiful&mdash;and presented it to me.<!-- Page 105 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy mus' tell Mis' Felissy Maria hain't forgot how to make
+it&mdash;'spect she hain't, anyhow. Dat's for Miss Daisy's Christmas."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very nice!" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon it is," was the capable answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you give everybody some, Maria?" For Jem had gone upstairs with
+a tray and glasses, and Maria seemed to be resting upon her labours.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can make some more," I said, holding my glass in waiting.
+"Do, Maria."</p>
+
+<p>"'Spose hain't got de 'terials, hey?"</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;my Aunt Gary was in a mood to refuse me nothing then&mdash;and
+Maria went anew about the business of beating and mixing and
+compounding.</p>
+
+<p>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,<!-- Page 106 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> 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 æsthetic
+tastes, take them where you will.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Den I hope's we's all willin' to gib de Lord t'anks for His goodness.
+Dere ain't a night in de year when it's so proper to gib de Lord
+t'anks, as it be dis precious night."</p>
+
+<p>"It's to-morrow night, Aunt Maria," said Pete. "To-morrow's Christmas
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"What's Christmas, anyhow?" asked another.</p>
+
+<p>"It's jus' de crown o' all the 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."</p>
+
+<p>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 in the world, I suppose, could<!-- Page 107 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> have given me such
+deep gratification at the moment. Margaret was sent upstairs 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&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>It comes back to me now as I write&mdash;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<!-- Page 108 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> 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&mdash;not interrupted, even to
+my feelings&mdash;by low-breathed echoes of praise and petition, too soft
+and deep to leave any doubt of the movement that called them forth.</p>
+
+<p>There was a quiet gravity upon all 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."</p>
+
+<p>A thought darted into my head which brought sunshine with it. I seemed
+to see my way begin to open.</p>
+
+<p>The hope was warm in 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 to my
+bedside. "Am I to have breakfast in bed?" I asked. "What is this
+for?"<!-- Page 109 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dunno, Miss Daisy," said Margaret, with all her white teeth
+sparkling;&mdash;"'spose Miss Daisy take just a look, and see what 'pears
+like."</p>
+
+<p>I felt the colour come into my face. I raised myself on my elbow and
+lifted up cautiously one corner of the shawl. Packages&mdash;white paper
+and brown paper&mdash;long and short, large and small! "O Margaret, take
+off the shawl, will you!" I cried; "and let me see what is here."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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"&mdash;so many, many
+thoughts of one and the other kind&mdash;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<!-- Page 110 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> 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 <i>not</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't you goin' to try it on and see some how pretty it looks, Miss
+Daisy?" said my unsatisfied attendant.</p>
+
+<p>"The cap?" said I. "Oh, I dare say it fits. Aunt Gary knows how big my
+head is."</p>
+
+<p>"Mass' Preston come last night," she went on; "so I reckon Miss
+Daisy'll want to wear it by and by."</p>
+
+<p>"Preston come last night!" I said. "After I was in bed?"&mdash;and feeling
+that it was indeed Christmas, I finished getting ready and went
+downstairs. I made up my mind I might as well be<!-- Page 111 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> 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?</p>
+
+<p>Preston smiled, took up the box and performed some conjuration upon
+it, and then&mdash;I cannot describe my entranced delight&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"I declare!" he said,&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>What</i> is it?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a little good blood coming up under the skin."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, Preston&mdash;<i>this</i>; what is it?"<!-- Page 112 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A musical box."</p>
+
+<p>"But where does the music come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Out of the box. See, Daisy; when it has done a tune and is run out,
+you must wind it up, so,&mdash;like a watch."</p>
+
+<p>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 more just then.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Daisy, there are ever so many more tunes."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I am glad. I will have them another time," I answered. "How very
+kind of mamma!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hit the right thing this time, didn't she? How's the riding cap,
+Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is very nice," I said. "Aunt Gary is very good; and I like the
+whip <i>very</i> much, Preston."</p>
+
+<p>"That fat little rascal will want it. Does the cap fit, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," I said. "Oh yes, I suppose so."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 next day.<!-- Page 113 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Gary," I said, "I want to consult you about something."</p>
+
+<p>"You have always something turning about in your head," was her
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"To hear <i>you</i> read the Bible!" said my aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Aunt Gary; I think they would like it. You know they cannot read
+it for themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>They</i> would like it. And you would be delighted, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Aunt Gary. I should like it better than anything."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a funny child! There is not a bit of your mother in
+you&mdash;except your obstinacy."</p>
+
+<p>And my aunt seemed to ponder my difference.</p>
+
+<p>"Would Mr. Edwards object to it, do you think? Would he let them
+come?"</p>
+
+<p>"The question is whether <i>I</i> will let them come. Mr. Edwards has no
+business with what is done in the house."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Aunt Gary, you would not have any objection."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Gary," I said, "please don't object! There is nobody to read the
+Bible to them&mdash;and I should like to do it very much."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see you would. There&mdash;don't get excited about it&mdash;every Sunday
+evening, did you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, if you please."<!-- Page 114 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure it would refresh me, Aunt Gary. It did the other night."</p>
+
+<p>"The other night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Christmas eve, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you read to them then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am; they wanted to know what Christmas was about."</p>
+
+<p>"And you read to them. You are the oddest child!"</p>
+
+<p>"But Aunt Gary, never mind&mdash;it would be the greatest pleasure to me.
+Won't you give leave?"</p>
+
+<p>"The servants hear the Bible read, child, every morning and every
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but that is only a very few of the house servants. I want some
+of the others to come&mdash;a good many&mdash;as many as can come."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish your mother and father were here!" sighed my aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think Mr. Edwards would make any objection?" I asked again,
+presuming on the main question being carried. "Would he let them
+come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let them come!" echoed my aunt. "Mr. Edwards would be well employed
+to interfere with anything the family chose to do."</p>
+
+<p>"But you know he does not let them meet together, the people, Aunt
+Gary; not unless they have his permission."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I suppose so. That is his business."</p>
+
+<p>"Then will you speak to him, ma'am, so that he may not be angry with
+the people when they come?"</p>
+
+<p>"I? No," said my aunt. "I have nothing to do with your<!-- Page 115 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> father's
+overseer. It would just make difficulty, maybe, Daisy; you had better
+let this scheme of yours alone."</p>
+
+<p>I could not without bitter disappointment. Yet I did not know how
+further to press the matter. I sat still and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>I explained over again.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;How many people do you
+want to read to at once, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"As many as I can, Aunt Gary. But Mr. Edwards will not let two or
+three meet together anywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But if they came to see <i>me</i>, Aunt Gary?" I persisted, waiving the
+other question.</p>
+
+<p>"That's another thing, of course. Well, don't worry. Call Preston. Why
+children cannot be children passes my comprehension."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 116 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;what do you call them?&mdash;one of
+those people who run wild over the human race."</p>
+
+<p>"Pirates?" suggested Preston. "Or corsairs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Her mother will be disappointed," went on my aunt. "That is what I
+confidently expect."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Pinshon hinted something about the corrective qualities of
+mathematics; but I was too happy to heed her or care. I <i>was</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;which I believe was always in the kitchen a regal one. I
+hardly aver 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.<!-- Page 117 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"De Lord is bery good!" was her subdued comment, made when I had done.
+"He hab sent His angel, sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Maria," I went on, "you must tell me who would like to come next
+Sunday, 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."</p>
+
+<p>"I s'pose not," said Maria&mdash;"wid Miss Daisy's name on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Who will come, Maria?"</p>
+
+<p>"Laws, chile, dere's heaps. Dere's Darry, and Pete&mdash;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&mdash;no, dere's <i>tree</i> Jems dat is ser'ous; and
+Stark, and Carl, and Sharlim&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sharlim</i>?" said I, not knowing that this was the Caffir for
+Charlemagne.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Maria," I said, "I did not know there were so many people at
+Magnolia that cared about the Bible."</p>
+
+<p>"What has 'um to care for, chile, I should like fur to know? Dere
+ain't much mo' in <i>dis</i> world."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought there were only very few," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"'Spose um fifty," said Maria. "Fifty ain't much, I reckon, when
+dere's all de rest o' de folks what <i>don't</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>That brought to my mind my question. It was odd, no doubt, to choose
+an old coloured woman for my adviser, but indeed, I<!-- Page 118 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Maria," said I, "what is the best way&mdash;I mean, how can one let one's
+light shine?"</p>
+
+<p>"What Miss Daisy talkin' about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean&mdash;you know what the Bible says&mdash;'Let your light so shine before
+men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is
+in heaven.'"</p>
+
+<p>"For sure, I knows dat. Ain't much shining 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."</p>
+
+<p>"But that is what I wanted to ask about, Maria. How ought one to let
+one's light shine?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"How let um light shine?" she repeated. "De bestest way, Miss Daisy,
+is fur to make him burn good."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 119 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>WINTER AND SUMMER.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.</p>
+
+<p>What there was of it; for I had not much strength to boast for many a
+day. Miss Pinshon tried her favourite recipe whenever she thought she
+saw a chance, and I did my best with it. But<!-- Page 120 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> 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 amongst them all. That picture&mdash;those
+evenings&mdash;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&mdash;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 upstairs 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 nowadays 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<!-- Page 121 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> 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,&mdash;the thought of it comes over me now and brings the
+water to my eyes,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"Am I a soldier of the cross&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i155">Of the cross&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i155">Of the cross&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i65">A follower of the Lamb;<br /></span>
+<span class="i65">And shall I fear to own his cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i155">Own his cause&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i155">Own his cause&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i65">Or blush to speak his name?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 122 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;indeed, I was that when
+I read it,&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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; not 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<!-- Page 123 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;I saw in a vision a large
+harvest of joy, to be raised from this small seed crop.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 124 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> 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 parties in whom I was interested. So I
+learned&mdash;and put it down in my notebook accordingly&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"But does she work every day in the field with her feet only half
+covered?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Laws! she don't care," said Maria. "'Taint no use give dem darkies
+not'ng; dey not know how to keep um."</p>
+
+<p>But this was not Maria's real opinion, I knew. There was<!-- Page 125 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> 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, like 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 mingled 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 anywhere else. I spent four winters at
+Magnolia after that; and never had a new purse all the time.</p>
+
+<p>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 abso<!-- Page 126 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>lute 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 <i>cups</i>, 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 or free." Nay,
+that is <i>here</i> and at present, to all who are in Christ; we do not
+wait for heaven, to be all one.<!-- Page 127 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 128 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> 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 spirit 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 on the beach; but Preston found a great deal
+where I found nothing, and was all the time taken up with people and
+pleasures;<!-- Page 129 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> boating and yachting and fishing expeditions; and I
+believe with hops and balls too. But I was always fast asleep at those
+times.</p>
+
+<p>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
+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; he
+would spend the winter in the Pyrenees! 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 these 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&mdash;seven hundred! I could do little. Nay,
+but it was for so many of those that 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<!-- Page 130 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> 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 <i>all</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;so fond of bright
+colour and grace and elegance&mdash;a luxurious race, even in their
+downtrodden condition; might not <i>they</i> 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<!-- Page 131 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> 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 on questions and comments. I knew, as
+well as I know now, what would be thought of any plan of action which
+supposed a <i>love of the beautiful</i> 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 æsthetic 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 Maria could
+take the full effect of my dress when I was decked&mdash;as I was
+sometimes&mdash;for a dinner party; and that no fall of lace or knot of
+ribbon missed its errand to her eye. I knew that a <i>picture</i> 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
+than 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<!-- Page 132 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> 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 take 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"That feather you put in the little riding cap you sent me," she said
+to the milliner&mdash;"your black feather, Daisy, you know&mdash;you charged me
+but fifteen dollars for that; why is this so much more?"</p>
+
+<p>I did not hear the milliner's answer. My whole thought went off upon a
+track entirely new to me, and never entered before<!-- Page 133 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> 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 <i>that</i>. 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,
+uncrystallized 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Gary," I said that same evening, musing over the things in my
+boxes, "does lace cost much?"</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what it costs, Aunt Gary. I never bought any."</p>
+
+<p>"Bought! No; hardly. You are hardly at the age to <i>buy</i> lace yet. But
+you have worn a good deal of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell what it cost by looking at it," I answered.<!-- Page 134 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>I</i> can. And you will, one day, I hope; if you ever do anything
+like other people."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it costly, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your lace is rather costly," my aunt said, with a tone which I felt
+implied satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"How much?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"How much does it cost? Why it is the countryman's question over
+again, Daisy. Lace is all sorts 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."</p>
+
+<p>I never wore it, I must explain, unless in small quantity, except on
+state occasions when my mother dressed me as part of herself.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>I mused a great deal. Three and five, and ten, and fifteen dollars a
+yard, on lace trimmings for me&mdash;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 good 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<!-- Page 135 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 136 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> I meant to be a good child. Perhaps that was
+something out of my governess's former experience; for it was the only
+style of commendation I ever knew her indulge in, and I always took it
+as a compliment.</p>
+
+<p>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 un-mixed 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 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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 137 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 unfrequently 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&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 138 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Pinshon, what ails that child?" she would ask.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"She has more strength than she shows," my governess answered. "Daisy
+has a good deal of strength."<!-- Page 139 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so?" said my aunt, looking doubtfully at me. But she was
+comforted. And neither of them asked me about it.</p>
+
+<p>One thing in the early half of the winter was a great help; and for a
+while 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 to 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I think there must be some mistake, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Aunt Gary; papa says just that."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean the house servants, child."</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am; papa says every one; all the people on the place."</p>
+
+<p>"He means the white people, you foolish child; everybody's head is not
+full of the servants, as yours is."</p>
+
+<p>"He says the coloured people, Aunt Gary; all of them. It is <i>only</i> the
+coloured people."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I certainly would. Did I not think with joy at that very minute of the
+words, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the<!-- Page 140 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> least of <i>these</i>, ye
+have done it unto me?" I knew what guest would be among my poor
+despised company. But I said not a word.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said my aunt, "you <i>must</i> be under a mistake; you must let me
+see what your father says. Why, to give all these hundreds an
+entertainment, it would cost&mdash;have you any idea what it would cost?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 141 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 kind<!-- Page 142 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>ness 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,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"In the morning&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i65">Chil'len, in the morning&mdash;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>I had a great heartbreak, and sat down and cried behind my sugarplums.</p>
+
+<p>I can bear to think of it all now. There were years when I could not.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 143 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> and congratulations, the
+winter and Miss Pinshon settled down for unbroken sway.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;was very
+delicate&mdash;he could not bear much exertion&mdash;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 Pyrenees;
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 144 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> 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&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>The next winter passed as the winter before had done, only I had no
+Christmas entertainment. My father and mother were in Egypt&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 145 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> 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&mdash;in imagination. I knew the prospect from the
+top, though I never wrote my name there. It seemed to me that <i>that</i>
+was barbarism. I sailed up the Nile&mdash;delightful journeys on board the
+Nile boats&mdash;forgetting Miss Pinshon and mathematics, except when I
+rather pitied the ancient Egyptians for being so devoted<!-- Page 146 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> 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 airs, and Eastern skies; hearing the plash of
+water from the everlasting <i>shadoof</i>, and watching the tints and
+colours on the ranges of hills bordering the Nile valley. All <i>my</i>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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,<!-- Page 147 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> which
+helped me. I studied them faithfully, and got from them all they could
+give me.</p>
+
+<p>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
+<i>Biban el Malook</i>. I wandered over the empty sarcophagi; held my
+breath at the pit's sides; and was never tired of going over the
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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 continuing their travelling regimen; and the word
+came that it was thought best he should try a long sea voyage&mdash;he was
+going to China, my mother would go with him.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 148 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> 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 smokestack 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 farthest stores of my heart.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>her</i> 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.<!-- Page 149 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>SINGLEHANDED.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 150 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
+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 be; but it fell oftener into the
+minor key, and then poured 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 prayer 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.</p>
+
+<p>"But at night, Margaret?" I said. "Mr. Edwards cannot keep them at
+work at night."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why do they not come as usual, Maria? there were only a few last
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"Dere was so few, it was lonesome," said Maria.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what is the reason?"<!-- Page 151 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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'."</p>
+
+<p>"But what keeps them away, Maria? what hinders?"</p>
+
+<p>"Chile, de Lord hab His angels, and de debil 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."</p>
+
+<p>Maria spoke in a sort of sententious wisdom which did not satisfy me
+at all. I thought there was something behind.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is doing the work, Maria?" I asked, after a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy," she said, "dere ain't no happenin' at all widout de Lord
+lets it happen. Dere is much contrairy in dis world&mdash;fact, dere is;
+but I 'spect de Lord make it up to us by'm by."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy ain't looking quite so peart as she use to look," Maria
+went on. But I slipped away from that diversion.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"'Spect de overseer, he don't hab no favour to such ways and
+meetin's."</p>
+
+<p>"But with <i>me</i>?" I said; "and with Aunt Gary's leave?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Spose he like to fix t'ings his own way," said Maria.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he forbid them to come?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon he do," she said, with a sigh.<!-- Page 152 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"De Lord is berry good, Miss Daisy," she said, cheerily, a moment
+after; "and dem dat love Him, dere can be no sort o' separation, no
+ways."</p>
+
+<p>"Does Mr. Edwards forbid them <i>all</i> to come?" I asked. "For a good
+many do come."</p>
+
+<p>"'Spect he don't like de meetin's, nohow," said Maria.</p>
+
+<p>"But does he tell all the people they must not come?"</p>
+
+<p>"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 ain't no
+gentleman, nohow!"</p>
+
+<p>"What does he do, Maria?" I said, trembling, yet unable to keep back
+the question.</p>
+
+<p>"He can do what he please, Miss Daisy," Maria said, in the same grave
+way. "'Cept de Lord above, dere no one can hinder&mdash;now massa so fur.
+Bes' pray de Lord, and mebbe He sen' His angel, some time."</p>
+
+<p>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"&mdash;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
+<i>wrong</i> done to these helpless people, and done by my own<!-- Page 153 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> 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&mdash;<i>my father</i>&mdash;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 <i>reason</i> 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.<!-- Page 154 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I did not give up my Sunday readings, even although the number 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&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"Oh, had I the wings of the morning&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i65">Oh, had I the wings of the morning&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i65">Oh, had I the wings of the morning&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i95">I'd fly to my Jesus away!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>I used to feel so too, as I listened and sometimes sung with them.</p>
+
+<p>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 her 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<!-- Page 155 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> 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?</p>
+
+<p>I met one of the two Jems in the pine-avenue one day. He greeted me
+with the pleasantest of broad smiles.</p>
+
+<p>"Jem," said I, "why don't you come to the house Sunday evenings any
+more?"</p>
+
+<p>"It don't 'pear practical, missie." Jem was given to large-sized
+words, when he could get hold of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Edwards hinders you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mass' Ed'ards berry smart man, Miss Daisy. He want massa's work done
+up all jus' so."</p>
+
+<p>"And he says that the prayer-meeting hinders the work, Jem?"</p>
+
+<p>"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 thundercloud. 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<!-- Page 156 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> 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."</p>
+
+<p>And papa was away on his voyage to China&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>One day in March I had gone to my favourite place to get out<!-- Page 157 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>I was very much startled while I sat in my muse to hear 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's 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 <i>his</i> wideawake; 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&mdash;then just at the corner&mdash;I looked up to
+see the cap lifted, and a smile coming upon<!-- Page 158 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Doctor Sandford!" I exclaimed, as his hand took mine.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it, Daisy?" answered the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And I <i>think</i> so," he said, looking at me after the old fashion. "Sit
+down, and let me make sure."</p>
+
+<p>"You must sit on the grass, then," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Such a flood of memories and happy associations came rushing into my
+mind at these words&mdash;he had not given them time to come in slowly. I
+suppose my face showed it, for the doctor looked at me and smiled as
+he said, "I see it <i>is</i> Daisy; I think it is certainly Daisy. So you
+do not like Magnolia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do," I said, wondering where he got that conclusion. "I like
+the <i>place</i> very much, if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to have the finishing of that 'if'&mdash;if you have no
+objection."</p>
+
+<p>"I like the <i>place</i>," I repeated. "There are some things about it I do
+not like."</p>
+
+<p>"Climate, perhaps?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean the climate. I do not think I meant anything that
+belonged to the place itself."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do?" was the doctor's next question.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very well, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know it?"<!-- Page 159 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I am," I said. "I am not sick. I always say I am well."</p>
+
+<p>"For instance, you are so well that you never get tired?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh I get tired very often. I always did."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of things make you tired? Do you take too long drives in
+your pony-chaise?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no pony-chaise now, Dr. Sandford. Loupe was left at Melbourne.
+I don't know what became of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you bring him along? But any other pony would do, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>"You would like to use your pony and chaise again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very much. I know it would rest me."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have a governess, Daisy? That is something you had not at
+Melbourne."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"To play!" I echoed. "I don't know whether Miss Pinshon approves of
+play."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! She approves of work then, does she?"</p>
+
+<p>"She likes work," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Keeps you busy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most of the day, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"The evenings you have to yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes. Not always. Sometimes I cannot get through with my
+lessons, and they stretch on into the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"How many lessons does this lady think a person of your<!-- Page 160 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> 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 sweetbriar he had cut. I stopped to make the reckoning.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me the course of your day, Daisy. And by-the-by when does your
+day begin?"</p>
+
+<p>"It begins at half past seven, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"With breakfast?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. I have a recitation before breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"Please of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Pinshon always begins with mathematics."</p>
+
+<p>"As a bitters. Do you find that it gives you an appetite?"</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Sweetbriar is sweet, Daisy,"&mdash;putting it to my nose. "I should like
+to know how long does mathematics last, before you are allowed to have
+coffee?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mathematics only lasts half an hour. But then I have an hour of study
+in mental philosophy before breakfast. We breakfast at nine."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not generally," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"How is that? where there is so much sharpening of the wits, people
+ought to be sharp otherwise."<!-- Page 161 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My wits do not get sharpened," I said, half laughing. "I think they
+get dull; and I am often dull altogether by breakfast time."</p>
+
+<p>"What time in the day do you walk?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the afternoon, when we have done with the schoolroom. But lately
+Miss Pinshon does not walk much."</p>
+
+<p>"So you take the best of the day for philosophy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, for mathematics."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Well, Daisy, <i>after</i> philosophy and mathematics have both had
+their turn, what then?&mdash;when breakfast is over."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And then what is left of you goes to walk," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not very often now," I said. "I don't know why&mdash;Miss Pinshon has
+very much given up walking of late."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what becomes of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not often want to do much of anything," I said. "To-day I came
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"With a book," said the doctor. "Is it work or play?"</p>
+
+<p>"My history lesson," I said, showing the book. "I had not quite time
+enough at home."</p>
+
+<p>"How much of a lesson, for instance?" said the doctor, taking the book
+and turning over the leaves.</p>
+
+<p>"I had to make a synopsis of the state of Europe from the third
+century to the tenth&mdash;synchronising the events and the names."<!-- Page 162 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"In writing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I might write it if I chose, I often do, but I had to give the
+synopsis from memory."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it take long to prepare, Daisy?" said the doctor, still turning
+over the leaves.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty long," I said, "when I am stupid. Sometimes I <i>cannot</i> do the
+synchronising, my head gets so thick; and I have to take two or three
+days for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you get punished for letting your head get thick?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes I do."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is the system of punishment at Magnolia for such deeds?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And <i>that</i> keeps you in, if the governess don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," I said; "I never can work at it then. I get up earlier the
+next morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you do nothing for exercise but those walks, which you do not
+take?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"It is near the time now when you always leave Magnolia, is it not?"<!-- Page 163 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Very near now."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it trouble you to have the time a little anticipated?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him, in much doubt what this might mean. The doctor
+fumbled in his breast pocket and fetched out a letter.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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 inquiry as to my well-being;
+and if he found things not satisfactory, as my father feared he might,
+and judge 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad," I said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you? That is kind. I am going to act upon my authority
+immediately, and take you away."</p>
+
+<p>"From Magnolia?" I said breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Wouldn't you like to go and see Melbourne again for a little
+while?"<!-- Page 164 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Melbourne!" said I; and I remember how my cheeks grew warm.
+"But&mdash;will Miss Pinshon go to Melbourne?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; she will not. Nor anywhere else, Daisy, with my will and
+permission, where you go. Will that distress you very much?"</p>
+
+<p>I could not say yes, and I believe I made no answer, my thoughts were
+in such a whirl.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mrs. Sandford in Melbourne&mdash;I mean, near Melbourne&mdash;now?" I asked
+at length.</p>
+
+<p>"No, she is in Washington. But she will be going to the old place
+before long. Would you like to go, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;the sunlight shone on the groves on
+the hillside. Who would look after my poor people?</p>
+
+<p>"You like Magnolia after all?" said the doctor. "I do not wonder, so
+far as Magnolia goes, you are sorry to leave it."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "I am not sorry at all to leave Magnolia; I am very
+glad. I am only sorry to leave&mdash;some friends."</p>
+
+<p>"Friends?" said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"How many friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said I. "I think there are a hundred or more."</p>
+
+<p>"Seriously?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," I said. "They are all on the place here."</p>
+
+<p>"How long will you want, Daisy, to take proper leave of these
+friends?"</p>
+
+<p>I had no idea he was in such practical haste; but I found it was so.<!-- Page 165 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>EGYPTIAN GLASS.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.</p>
+
+<p>I did not know till he was gone what a hard week it was going to be.</p>
+
+<p>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. Jem said I
+was going away, not to come back. I do not know how he had got hold of
+the notion. And<!-- Page 166 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be in a school, Margaret," I said. "I could not have anybody
+there to wait on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy won't never do everything for herself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I must," I said. "All the girls do."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd hire out then, Miss Daisy, while you don't want me&mdash;I'd be right
+smart&mdash;and I'd bring all my earnin's to you regular. 'Deed I will!
+Till Miss Daisy want me herself."</p>
+
+<p>I felt my cheeks flush. She would bring <i>her</i> earnings to <i>me</i>. Yes,
+that was what we were doing.</p>
+
+<p>"'Clar, Miss Daisy, do don't leave me behind! I could take washin' and
+do all Miss Daisy's things up right smart&mdash;don't believe they knows
+how to do things up there!&mdash;I'll come to no good if I don't go with
+Miss Daisy, sure."</p>
+
+<p>"You can be good here as well as anywhere, Margaret," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy don' know. Miss Daisy, s'pose the devil walkin' round
+about a place; think it a nice place fur to be good in?"</p>
+
+<p>"The devil is not in Magnolia more than anywhere else," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere Mass' Edwards&mdash;" Margaret said half under her breath. Even in my
+room she would not speak the name out loud.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 167 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> 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
+manservant, 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 <i>cook</i>. 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 168 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>I think of all the crushing griefs that a young person can be called
+to bear, one of the sorest is the feeling of wrongdoing 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>I</i> knew
+now that it was bloody; and what was worse, though I do not know <i>why</i>
+it should be worse, I knew that it was soiled. I knew that greed and
+dishonour were the two collectors of our revenue, and <i>wrong</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 ferry-boat opened it again, and looked for the date of<!-- Page 169 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> the day in
+March where we were. I found the words&mdash;"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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Pinshon liked better to travel all night," I said, "because
+there was no place where she liked to stop to spend the night."</p>
+
+<p>"What was your opinion on that subject?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was more tired than she was, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"Has she managed things on the same system for the four years past?"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 170 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> 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&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I drew two or three long breaths as Margaret was undressing me; I felt
+so comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"Are Miss Pinshon done gone away, Miss Daisy?" my handmaid asked.</p>
+
+<p>"From Magnolia? yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Where she gwine to?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Then she don't go furder along the way we're goin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I wonder, Margaret, if they will have any prayer-meetings in
+Magnolia now?" For with the mention of Magnolia my thoughts swept
+back.<!-- Page 171 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'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.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But what makes <i>you</i> want to get away from home more than all
+the rest of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon I'd done gone kill myself, s'pose Miss Daisy leave me there,"
+the girl said gloomily. "If dey send me down South, I <i>would</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Send you South!" I said; "they would not do that, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"Dere was man wantin' to buy me&mdash;give mighty high price, de overseer
+said." In excitement Margaret's tongue sometimes grew thick, like
+those of her neighbours.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Edwards has no right to sell anybody away from the place," I
+insisted, in mixed unbelief and horror.</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno," said Margaret. "Don't make no difference, Miss Daisy. Who
+care what he do? Dere's Pete's wife&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pete's wife?" said I. "I didn't know Pete was married! What of Pete's
+wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"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 ain't got your clothes off."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop," said I. "What about Pete's wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"I done forget. I thought Miss Daisy knowed. Mebbe it's before Miss
+Daisy come home."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said I. "What?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's nothin', Miss Daisy. The overseer he done got mad with Pete's
+wife and he sold her down South, he did."</p>
+
+<p>"Away from Pete?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Pete, he's to de old place," said Margaret, laconically.<!-- Page 172 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> "'Spect he
+forgot all about it by dis time. Miss Daisy please have her clothes
+off and go to bed?"</p>
+
+<p>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?&mdash;my good, strong, gentle, and I remembered always
+<i>grave</i>, 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,&mdash;on their
+own land&mdash;to their own helpless dependants; whom yet it was <i>they</i>
+made helpless and kept subject to such possibilities. I turned and
+tossed, feeling that I <i>must</i> do something, while yet I knew I could
+do nothing. Pete's wife! And where was she now? And <i>that</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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,<!-- Page 173 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>It would have comforted me greatly if I could have known this at the
+time. But, as I said, I supposed Margaret dared not tell me. After a
+long time of weary tossing and heartache, 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you have waked up, Miss Daisy?" said Margaret when I opened my
+eyes. "That poundin' noise has done waked you!"</p>
+
+<p>"What noise?"</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 174 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> that my appearance in other respects
+struck her unfavourably. He made no answer to that, but carried us off
+to the luncheon-room.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child!" said Mrs. Sandford. "Let me have it beaten up for her,
+Grant, with some sugar; she can't take it so."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy has done harder things," he said.</p>
+
+<p>I saw he expected me to drink it, and so I did, I do not know how.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said smiling, as he took the glass. "Now sit down and
+I will talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>"How she is growing tall, Grant!" said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said he. "Did you sleep well, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir; I couldn't sleep. And then I dreamed."</p>
+
+<p>"Dreaming is not a proper way of resting. So tired you could not
+sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think it was that, Dr. Sandford."<!-- Page 175 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what it was?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I do," I said, a little unwillingly.</p>
+
+<p>"She is getting very much the look of her mother," Mrs. Sandford
+remarked again. "Don't you see it, Grant?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see more than that," he answered. "Daisy, do you think this
+governess of yours has been a good governess?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have grown dull, Dr. Sandford," I said.</p>
+
+<p>He came up behind me, and put his arms round me, taking my hand in
+his, and spoke in quite a different tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, have you found many 'wonderful things' at Magnolia?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked up, I remember, with the eagerness of a heart full of
+thoughts, in his face; but I could not speak then.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you looked through a microscope since you have been there, and
+made discoveries?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in natural things, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" said the doctor. "Do you want to go and take a drive with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Go and get ready then, please."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 176 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> 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 to 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said he, "was it your wish or Margaret's, that she should go
+North with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hers," I said, startled.</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is not yours particularly."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is, Dr. Sandford, <i>very</i> particularly."</p>
+
+<p>"How is that?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>I hesitated. I shrank from the whole subject; it was so extremely sore
+to me.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I was silent still, for the whole thing choked me. I was quite<!-- Page 177 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>
+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 <i>her</i>
+interest and pleasure; I knew what both would be. I was dumb.</p>
+
+<p>"You had not thought of this before?" the doctor went on.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it not change your mind about taking her on?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think it was," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I was silent still. I knew that I wished she might.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think," Dr. Sandford went on, "that in this view of the case
+we had better send her back to Magnolia when you leave Washington?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be better," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" I said. "Oh, no, Dr. Sandford. I can't send her back. You
+will not send her back, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not send her back," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"But it may be right to consider what would be Mr. Randolph's wish on
+the subject. If you take her, he may lose<!-- Page 178 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> several hundred dollars'
+worth of property: it is right for me to warn you. Would he choose to
+run the risk?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"She ought to be her own mistress," I said.</p>
+
+<p>A brilliant flash of expression filled the blue eyes and crossed his
+face&mdash;I could hardly tell what, before it was gone. Quick
+surprise&mdash;pleasure&mdash;amusement&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Daisy, have you studied this question?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have studied nothing else, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"You know the girl is not yours, but your father's."</p>
+
+<p>"She isn't anybody's," I said slowly, and with slow tears gathering in
+my heart.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean?" said he, with again the quiver of a smile upon his
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," I said, struggling with my thoughts and myself, "I mean that
+nobody could have a right to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Did not her parents belong to your father?"</p>
+
+<p>"To my mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Then she does."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Dr. Sandford," I said, "nobody <i>can</i> belong to anybody&mdash;in that
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you make it out, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because nobody can give anybody a <i>right</i> to anybody else in that
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it not give your mother a right, that the mother of this<!-- Page 179 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> girl
+and her grandmother were the property of your ancestors?"</p>
+
+<p>"They could not be their property justly," I said, glad to get back to
+my ancestors.</p>
+
+<p>"The law made it so."</p>
+
+<p>"Not God's law, Dr. Sandford," I said, looking up at him.</p>
+
+<p>"No? Does not that law give a man a right to what he has honestly
+bought?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "it <i>can't</i>&mdash;not if it has been dishonestly sold."</p>
+
+<p>"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 wrong I was separating.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean, the <i>first</i> people that sold the first of these coloured
+people," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"They could not have a right to sell them."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then the people that bought them could not have a right, any more," I
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, "do you know that there are different
+opinions on this very point?"</p>
+
+<p>I was silent. It made no difference to me.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;had not <i>they</i> a right
+to pass them off upon other hands, receiving their money back again?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how to explain it," I said. "I mean&mdash;if at<!-- Page 180 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> first&mdash;Dr.
+Sandford, hadn't the people that were sold, hadn't they rights too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rights of what sort?"</p>
+
+<p>"A right to do what they liked with themselves, and to earn money, and
+to keep their wives?"</p>
+
+<p>"But those rights were lost, you know, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>could</i> they be?" I said. "I mean&mdash;Dr. Sandford, for instance,
+suppose somebody stole your watch from you; would you lose the right
+to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>seems</i> to me that I should not, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I mean," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 181 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, Daisy?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>I would not speak, and he did not urge it; but I saw that he watched
+me till I gained command of myself again.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we go home now?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In a minute. Dr. Sandford, I do not think papa knows about all
+this&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"Or perhaps you will think as he does."</p>
+
+<p>I was silent. I wondered if that could be possible&mdash;if I too could
+have my eyes blinded as I saw other people's were.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Daisy," said my friend the doctor, "but you are getting to be
+not <i>little</i> Daisy. How old are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be fourteen in June."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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 hearts to do the same. I cannot
+tell what was in my look, but I thought the doctor's face changed.</p>
+
+<p>"One Molly Skelton will do for one four years," he said as he rose up.
+"Come, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Dr. Sandford," I said, as I followed him, "you will not do
+anything about sending Margaret back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, till you do, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 182 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are the most troublesome patient that ever I had," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I am?" I exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I suppose not. That is the worst of it."</p>
+
+<p>"But why am I an <i>Egyptian</i> glass?" I asked. "I am not very old."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a very doubtful sort of a compliment," said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean it for a compliment at all," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe you did," said his sister; "but what <i>did</i> you mean?
+Grant, I should like to hear you pay a compliment for once."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know Egyptian glass," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"No. What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very curious."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I say that you couldn't pay compliments?" said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"And unlike any that is made nowadays. There were curi<!-- Page 183 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>ous 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."</p>
+
+<p>"How very curious!" said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Sandford will be in New York," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"How long does the summer vacation last?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Till some time in September. You can enter school now or then, as you
+choose."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 184 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> or two in New York to
+get my wardrobe in order and then begin my school experience.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 185 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>SHOPPING.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.
+Sand<!-- Page 186 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>ford said, I chose to wear my riding-cap with the feather; that
+was warm, and very pretty, and would do.</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>Must I be guided by that?&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"That will cover it all, Daisy," he said. "It is money your father has
+made over to my keeping, for this and similar purposes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you!" I said, breathless; and then I counted the bills.
+"Oh, thank you, Dr. Sandford: but may I spend all this?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And when shall we go?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"To spend it? Now, if you like. Why, Daisy, I did not know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What, sir?" I said as he paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, nothing," he said, smiling. "Somehow I had not fancied that
+you shared the passion of your sex for what they call <i>shopping</i>. You
+are all alike in some things."<!-- Page 187 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I like it very much to-day," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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 fully as 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 <i>her</i> 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 <i>any</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose the dress is the first thing, Daisy," he said, as we<!-- Page 188 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
+entered the great establishment where everything was to be had; and he
+inquired for the counter where we should find merinoes. I had no
+objection ready.</p>
+
+<p>"What colour, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want something quiet," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Something dark," said the doctor, seating himself. "And fine quality.
+Not green, Daisy, if I might advise. It is too cold."</p>
+
+<p>"Cold!" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"For this season. It is a very nice colour in summer, Daisy," he said,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>And he looked on in a kind of amused way, while the clerk of the
+merinoes and I confronted each other. There was displayed now before
+me a piece of claret-coloured stuff, dark and bright; a lovely 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford," I said, "I want to get something that will not cost so
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it not please you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I like it: but I want some stuff that will not cost so much."<!-- Page 189 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"This is not far above my sister's estimate, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And the difference is a trifle&mdash;if you like the piece."</p>
+
+<p>"I like it," I said; "but it is very much above <i>my</i> estimate."</p>
+
+<p>"You had one of your own!" said the doctor. "Do you like something
+else here better?&mdash;or what is your estimate, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want a poor merino," I said. "I would rather get some other
+stuff&mdash;if I can. I do not want to give more than a dollar."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Sandford led the way, and I followed. There certainly I found
+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.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like these things better?" the doctor asked me privately.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why come here, Daisy? Pardon me, may I ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have other things to get, Dr. Sandford," I said low.</p>
+
+<p>"But Daisy!" said the doctor, rousing up, "I have performed my part
+ill. You are not restricted&mdash;your father has not restricted you. I am
+your banker for whatever sums you may need&mdash;for whatever purposes."</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 190 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And not mine. Pardon me, Daisy; I submit."</p>
+
+<p>"Please, Dr. Sandford, don't speak so!" I said. "I don't mean that. I
+mean, it is my own affair and not papa's."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, I have no more to say," said the doctor, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you all about it," I said; and then I desired the shopman
+to cut off the dress I had fixed upon; and we went upstairs 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. <i>She</i> would
+not have liked it nor let me wear it; I knew that; but then&mdash;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 stairs, feeling perplexed, nevertheless, at the strangeness of the
+work I was doing, and with something in my heart giving a pull at my
+judgment towards the side of what was undoubtedly "pleasant to the
+eyes." So I followed Dr. Sandford up the stairs 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 downstairs?</p>
+
+<p>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 sim<!-- Page 191 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>plicity. 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?</p>
+
+<p>"Are you tired, Daisy?" said Dr. Sandford, bending down to look in my
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. At least, that was not what I was thinking of."</p>
+
+<p>"When then?" said he. "Will one of these do?"</p>
+
+<p>"They would do," I said slowly. "But, Dr. Sandford, I should like to
+see something else&mdash;something that would do for somebody that was
+poorer than I."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but&mdash;I would indeed, if you please, Dr. Sandford. These things
+cost too much for what I want now."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like them very well."</p>
+
+<p>"Then take whichever you like best. That is my advice to you, Daisy.
+The bank will bear it."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I must not. Please, Dr. Sandford, I should like to see
+something that would not cost so much. Do they <i>all</i> cost as much as
+these?"<!-- Page 192 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The doctor gave the order as I desired. The shopman who was serving us
+cast another comprehensive glance at me&mdash;I had seen him give one at
+the beginning&mdash;and tossing off the velvet coat and twisting off the
+silk one, he walked away. Presently he 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.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the doctor,&mdash;"you mistook me. We want to look at some goods
+fitted for persons who have not long purses."</p>
+
+<p>"Something inferior to these&mdash;" 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 in
+contrast with it, the one of the first there. Certainly, in style and
+elegance <i>this</i> 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&mdash;I remember it, for it was my first
+experience of that kind of thing&mdash;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&mdash;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<!-- Page 193 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all, Daisy?" my friend asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford," said I, standing up and speaking low, "I want to
+find&mdash;can I find here, do you think?&mdash;a good warm cloak and dress for
+Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"For Margaret?" said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; she is not used to the cold, you know; and she has nothing to
+keep her comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Daisy!" said the doctor,&mdash;"sit down here again; I must
+understand this. Was <i>Margaret</i> at the bottom of all these financial
+operations?"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew she wanted something, ever since we came from Washington," I
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, she could have had it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Dr. Sandford;&mdash;but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But what, if you will be so good?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it was right for me to get it."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry I do not agree with you at all. It was for <i>me</i> to get
+it&mdash;I am supplied with funds, Daisy&mdash;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 <i>not</i> yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," I said,&mdash;"if you please. I cannot explain it, Dr. Sandford,
+but I know it is right."</p>
+
+<p>"What is right, Daisy? My faculties are stupid."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir; but&mdash;Let it be as it is, please."<!-- Page 194 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said I, in a great deal of difficulty,&mdash;"there is not enough
+for me and everybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to take care of the wants of everybody?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think&mdash;I ought to take care of all that I can," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"But you have not the power."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't do but what I <i>have</i> the power for."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, what would your father and mother say to such a course of
+action? would they allow it, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>you</i> are my guardian now, Dr. Sandford," I said, looking up at
+him. He paused a minute doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"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?&mdash;for I was
+bewildered and did not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"A warm cloak and dress," I said, delighted; "that is what I want. Can
+I get them here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtful, I should say," he answered; "but we will try."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I put it in your hands, Daisy!" Dr. Sandford said, as we went in.
+"Only let me look on."</p>
+
+<p>I kept him waiting a good while, I am afraid; but he was very patient
+and seemed amused. <i>I</i> was not. The business<!-- Page 195 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> 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 wareroom. 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is without a fault," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Take it off, please," I said. "I want to find something that will not
+cost so much&mdash;something that will not cost near so much."</p>
+
+<p>"There is that cap that is too large for Miss Van Allen&mdash;" the
+milliner's assistant remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"It would not suit Mrs. Randolph at all," was the answer aside.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>You are going to be a different Daisy Randolph from what you have been
+all your life&mdash;something whispered to me. And<!-- Page 196 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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, until my things came home, and I saw
+that Mrs. Sandford did not like them.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could have been with you!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you choose these things, Grant?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with them?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are hardly suitable."</p>
+
+<p>"For the third time, what is the matter with them?" said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"They are neat, but they are not <i>handsome</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"They will look handsome when they are on," said Dr. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"No they won't; they will look common. I don't mean <i>vulgar</i>&mdash;you
+could not buy anything in bad taste&mdash;but they are just what anybody's
+child might wear."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Mrs. Randolph's child might."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Sandford gave him a look. "That is just the thing," she said.
+"Mrs. Randolph's child might <i>not</i>. 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we change them, Daisy?" said the doctor.<!-- Page 197 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I said "No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I hope they will wear out before Mrs. Randolph comes home," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>did</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;"If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are
+ye. But let none of you suffer ... <i>as a thief, or as an
+evildoer</i>"&mdash;"Let your light so shine<!-- Page 198 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> before men"&mdash;"Let not mercy and
+truth forsake thee; bind them about thy neck;"&mdash;"Whatsoever things are
+true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are <i>just</i> ...
+think on these things."</p>
+
+<p>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,&mdash;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 <i>thief</i> 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 sufferings
+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>I</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,<!-- Page 199 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> 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)&mdash;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 come in at the minute.</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret," I said, "I have got you a warm gown and a good thick warm
+cloak, to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"A cloak! Miss Daisy&mdash;" Margaret's lips just parted and showed the
+white teeth between them.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I saw you were not warm in that thin shawl."</p>
+
+<p>"It's mighty cold up these ways!&mdash;" the girls shoulders drew together
+with involuntary expression.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon I find something to do at the school, Miss Daisy. Ain't there
+servants?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I am afraid there may not be another wanted. What else ought
+you to have, Margaret?"</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>now</i>,
+to be nice and warm?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Spect I'd be better for some underclothes&mdash;" Margaret said, half
+under her breath.</p>
+
+<p>Of course! I knew it the moment she said it. I knew the scanty coarse
+supply which was furnished to the girls and women<!-- Page 200 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> 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
+back again to the parlour. I mused as I went. If I let Margaret keep
+her wages&mdash;and I was very certain I could not receive them from her&mdash;I
+must be prepared to answer it to my father. Perhaps,&mdash;yes, I felt sure
+as I thought about it&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"How do they seem, Daisy?" said the doctor, stretching himself on the
+cushions again, after asking my permission and pardon.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well,"&mdash;I said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"You are satisfied?"</p>
+
+<p>I said yes.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said he, "you have conquered me to-day&mdash;I have yielded&mdash;I
+owned myself conquered; but won't you enlighten me? As a matter of
+favour?"</p>
+
+<p>"About what, Dr. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand you."</p>
+
+<p>I remember looking at him and smiling. It was so curious a<!-- Page 201 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> thing,
+both that he should, in his philosophy, be puzzled by a child like me,
+and that he should care about undoing the puzzle.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" said he,&mdash;"that is my old little Daisy of ten years old.
+Daisy, I used to think she was an extremely dainty and particular
+little person."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Was that correct?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said I. "I think it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Daisy, honestly&mdash;I am asking as a philosopher, and that means a
+lover of knowledge, you know,&mdash;did you choose those articles to-day to
+please yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"In one way, I did," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Did they appear to you as they did to Mrs. Sandford,&mdash;at the time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"So I thought. Then, Daisy, will you make me understand it? For I am
+puzzled."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>However, he lay there looking at me and waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"Those other things cost too much, Dr. Sandford&mdash;that was all."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>I hesitated, and he waited. How was I to tell him? He would<!-- Page 202 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> simply
+find it ridiculous. And then I thought&mdash;"If any of you suffer as a
+Christian, let him not be ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>"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;&mdash;"and respectable. And there were other people who needed all
+the money the other things would have cost."</p>
+
+<p>"What other people?" said the doctor. "As I am your guardian, Daisy,
+it is proper for me to ask, and not impertinent."</p>
+
+<p>I hesitated again. "I was thinking," I said, "of some of the people I
+left at Magnolia."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the servants?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, they are cared for."</p>
+
+<p>I was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think they want?"</p>
+
+<p>"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 took his
+feet off the sofa and sat up and confronted me.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not," I was obliged to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Then do you think it proper for me to allow such to be the fact?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him. What there was in my look it is impossible for me to
+say; but he laughed a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said,&mdash;"I know&mdash;you have conquered me to-day. I own myself
+conquered&mdash;but the question I ask you is whether I am justifiable."<!-- Page 203 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think that depends," I answered, "on whether <i>I</i> am justifiable."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you justify yourself, Daisy?" he said, bringing his hand down
+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?" he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," I said; but I felt troubled.</p>
+
+<p>"Then do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford, the Bible says, 'Whatsoever ye would that men should do
+to you, do ye even so to them.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said he, refusing to draw any conclusions for me.</p>
+
+<p>"I have more than I want, and they have not enough. I don't think I
+ought to keep <i>more</i> than I want."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was not speaking of anybody but myself," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"But a rule of action which is the right one for you, would be right
+for everybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but everybody must apply it for himself," I said. "I was only
+applying it for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"And applying it for yourself, Daisy, is it to cut off for the
+future&mdash;or ought it&mdash;all elegance and beauty? Must you restrict
+yourself to mere 'comfort and respectability'? Are furs and feathers,
+for instance, wicked things?"</p>
+
+<p>He did not speak it 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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<!-- Page 204 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> feather, and
+stole away her blankets to make them into fur; what would you think of
+fur and feathers then?"</p>
+
+<p>There came a curious lightning through the doctor's blue eyes. I did
+not know in the least what it meant.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say, Daisy, that the poor people down yonder at
+Magnolia want such things as gowns and blankets?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I will never interfere with you any more, Daisy," said the
+doctor,&mdash;"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&mdash;you have conquered me,"&mdash;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.<!-- Page 205 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>SCHOOL.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;dark green, like
+the colour of this stripe&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"How much will it cost?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the cost is not very much," said the milliner. "I suppose we
+would do it for you, Mrs. Sandford, for twenty-five dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"That is too much," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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<!-- Page 206 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> hours; and the
+cording and all. And the silk you know, Mrs. Sandford, <i>that</i> costs
+nowadays. 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't you put some other sort of trimming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's no other way that looks <i>distingué</i> on this sort of
+stuff; that's the most stylish. We could put a band of rows of black
+velvet&mdash;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 ribbon."</p>
+
+<p>"How much would <i>that</i> be?" said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh really, I don't just know," the woman answered; "depends on the
+ribbon; it don't make much difference to you, Mrs. Sandford; it would
+be&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"How much would it be to make the dress plain?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Without trimming!" said the woman. "Oh, you could not<!-- Page 207 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> have it
+<i>without trimming</i>; 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Sandford," said I, "I should like to know what the dress would
+be without trimming."</p>
+
+<p>"What would it be, Melinda?" The woman was only a forewoman at her
+establishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, Mrs. Sandford, the naked dress I have no doubt could be
+made for you for five dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"You would not have it <i>so</i>, Daisy, my dear?" said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford, "did you ever have anything to do with
+the Methodists?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," I said, wondering. "What are the Methodists?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 208 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say. I believe they hold that the Bible forbids ornamenting
+ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>I wondered if it did; and determined I would look. And I thought the
+Methodists must be nice people.</p>
+
+<p>"What is on the carpet now?" said the doctor. "Singing or dressing?
+You are attacking Daisy, I see, on some score."</p>
+
+<p>"She won't have her dress trimmed," said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said he, "are you going to make yourself unlike other
+people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only my dress, Dr. Sandford," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"L'habit, c'est l'homme!&mdash;" he answered gravely, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>I remembered his question and words many times in the course of the
+next six months.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 209 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> 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&mdash;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, of sorrow, I could not quite tell what it was, only that it
+was <i>unrest</i>, 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Daisy. Remember, I shall expect a letter every fortnight."</p>
+
+<p>He had ordered me before to write to him as often as that, and give
+him a minute account of myself; how many studies I<!-- Page 210 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Dr. Sandford your cousin, Miss Randolph?" was the question which
+came in upon my thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," I answered in extreme surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he any relation to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is my guardian."</p>
+
+<p>"I think Dr. Sandford told me that your father and mother are abroad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am; and Dr. Sandford is my guardian."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Bentley," said Madame, "this is your new companion, Miss
+Randolph. Will you be so good as to show Miss Randolph her room?"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 211 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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 in 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.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Miss Randolph, girls," said Miss Bentley. "Miss Randolph,
+Miss Macy."</p>
+
+<p>I curtseyed to the fat girl, who gave me a little nod.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad she isn't as big as I am," was her comment on the
+introduction. I was glad, too.<!-- Page 212 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lansing&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>This was bright-eyes, who bowed and smiled&mdash;she always smiled&mdash;and
+said, "How do you do?" Then rushed off to a drawer in search of
+something.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss St. Clair, will you come and be introduced to Miss Randolph?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame said we must make some room for her," Miss Bentley answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know where," remarked Miss Macy. "<i>I</i> have not two inches."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>must</i> have a little place, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Lansing looked up with a perplexed face, and Miss Macy remarked that
+nobody had a bit of room to lay anything.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no use being sorry, child," said Miss Macy; "we have got to fix
+it, somehow. I know who <i>ought</i> to be sorry. Here&mdash;I can take this
+pile of things out of this drawer; that is all <i>I</i> can do. Can't she
+manage with this half?"</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 213 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But if we give you a whole drawer," said Miss Macy, "you must be
+content with one peg in the wardrobe&mdash;will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, and she can have one or two hooks in the closet," said
+bright-eyes. "Come here, Miss Randolph, I will show you."</p>
+
+<p>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 dresses and hats hanging on them. Miss Lansing moved and changed
+several of these, till she had cleared a space for me.</p>
+
+<p>"There," she said, "now you'll do, won't you? I don't believe you can
+get a scrape of a corner in the wardrobe; Macy and Bentley and St.
+Clair take it up so. <i>I</i> haven't but one dress hanging there, but
+you've got a whole drawer in the bureau."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Five of us in that room! I had always had the comfort of great space
+and ample conveniences about me; was it a <i>luxury</i> I<!-- Page 214 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Be watchful," were the first words that met me. Aye, 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 unlocked
+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?</p>
+
+<p>"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring
+lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 215 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> Sandford would not like such a
+proceeding; but there were worse dangers than the danger of lessened
+health. I <i>would</i> pray; but what next?</p>
+
+<p>"Take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently."&mdash;"What I say
+unto you I say unto all, Watch."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I, the Lord thy God, will hold thy right hand."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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
+soft little 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 two
+others; very busy and eager about their affairs that they were
+discussing. Meanwhile they all began to put themselves in order.</p>
+
+<p>"The bell will ring for tea directly," said Miss Macy, addressing
+herself to me; "are you ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Tisn't much trouble to fix <i>her</i> hair," said my friend with the
+black eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Six pair of eyes for a moment were turned upon me.<!-- Page 216 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are too old to have your hair so," remarked Miss Bentley. "You
+ought to let it grow."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you?" said Miss Lansing.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"St. Clair, you are too bad!" said Miss Macy. "Miss Randolph is a
+stranger."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 217 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>The tea-table was set in the further room of the three. Mme. 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 Géneviève, Miss Babbitt, Mme.
+Jupon, and Miss Dumps. I could not examine them just then. I felt I
+was on exhibition myself.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"What have been your principal studies for the past year?"<!-- Page 218 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I said mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy and history.</p>
+
+<p>"Then she is mine!" exclaimed Mlle. Géneviève.</p>
+
+<p>"She is older than she looks," said Miss Babbitt.</p>
+
+<p>"Her hair is young, but her eyes are not," said the former speaker,
+who was a lively lady.</p>
+
+<p>"French have you studied?" Madame went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so much," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Mme. Jupon will want you."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You may go back to your place, Miss Randolph," said my mistress. "We
+will arrange all the rest to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I go back with you?" asked Mlle. Géneviève. "Do you mind going
+alone?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"You are out for once, Géneviève," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"La charmante!" said Mme. Jupon. "Voyez l'a plomb!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you don't want me," said Mlle. Géneviève, nodding. "Go&mdash;you'll
+do."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 219 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> 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 those very few women who dress
+well; but which are more and more hideous the farther 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<!-- Page 220 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 mother.<!-- Page 221 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> Only now going out towards China; and
+how long months might pass before China would be done 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 <i>must</i> find help somewhere. And when
+one's need is so shut in, then it looks in the right quarter&mdash;the only
+one left open.</p>
+
+<p>My little book was upstairs 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 <span class="smcap">WITH
+ME</span>; 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 weak little child, put my hand in the hand of my great Leader,
+and felt safe and strong.</p>
+
+<p>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. Géneviève 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;<!-- Page 222 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> 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 and black headed pins, studying the changes of England and her
+people. But Mlle. Géneviève 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.
+Géneviève 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.
+Géneviève'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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Daisy," said Miss Lansing, "make haste. Babbitt will be after
+you directly if you aren't ready. Put on your cap."<!-- Page 223 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I can't find it," I said. "I left it here, in its place, but I can't
+find it."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"For shame, Faustina, that's too bad. How can she get it?" said Miss
+Bentley.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want her to get it," said the St. Clair coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then how can she go to walk?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want her to go to walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Faustina, that isn't right. Miss Randolph is a stranger; you
+shouldn't play tricks on her."</p>
+
+<p>"Roundheads were always revolutionists," said the girl recklessly. "<i>A
+la lanterne!</i> Heads or hats&mdash;it don't signify which. That is an
+example of what our Madame calls 'symbolism.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush&mdash;sh! Madame would call it something else. Now how are we going
+to get the cap down?"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 224 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> 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 my 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.</p>
+
+<p>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"&mdash;was the leading text for the day that had
+just gone; now I thought I would try it in my difficulty. The very
+next words on the page I remembered were these&mdash;"God is light, and in
+him is no darkness at all."</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>felt</i> 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&mdash;"Ye <i>were</i> sometime darkness,
+but now are ye light in the Lord; walk as children of light."<!-- Page 225 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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,&mdash;"Walk as children of light." I <i>knew</i> 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 came still
+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 <i>must</i> 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.<!-- Page 226 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A PLACE IN THE WORLD.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">I WAS an 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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. Géneviève 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<!-- Page 227 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
+to me a faded image of Mlle. Géneviève'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. Géneviève's favour; but that I did not understand till
+afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>We had all been to church as usual, this Sunday, and we were taking
+off our hats and things upstairs, 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.</p>
+
+<p>Costly coats and cloaks, heavily 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 no<!-- Page 228 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>where 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you come from the country, Miss Randolph?" she said, insolently
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>I answered yes. And I remembered what my mantua-maker had said.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you have that dress made there?"</p>
+
+<p>"For shame, St. Clair!" said Miss Bentley; "let Miss Randolph alone. I
+am sure her dress is very neat."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if women don't wear long hair where she came from?" said the
+girl, turning away from me again. The others laughed.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 229 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> opinion about me when they
+saw my summer frocks. There was nothing like <i>them</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 out of doors just as usual; but these things were often in my
+thoughts, and taking by degrees more room in them.</p>
+
+<p>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 schoolfellows had all gone downstairs 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<!-- Page 230 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> found that
+I understood them better and enjoyed them a great deal more. I came to
+these words,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I had dwelt sometime 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. "<i>The world
+knoweth us not.</i>"&mdash;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 <i>not</i> know Him? And I remembered, it
+did not know Him as one of its own party. He was "this fellow,"&mdash;and
+"the deceiver;"&mdash;"the Nazarene;" "they called the master of the house
+Beelzebub." And so the world knoweth <i>us</i> 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,&mdash;"<i>the world
+knoweth us not</i>." I saw it was a mark and<!-- Page 231 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>know</i> 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 schoolfellows'
+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 farther 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 recognize me, nor have
+anything to do with me.<!-- Page 232 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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 patronized 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 elegances 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 <i>not</i>;" 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.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>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&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"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,
+<i>therefore the world hateth you</i>."</p>
+
+<p>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;&mdash;but I
+must agree to belong but to one.<!-- Page 233 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, don't you know?" said slow Miss Macy. "That's Miss Cardigan's
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder who she is?" said Miss Lansing. "It isn't a New York name."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is," said Macy. "She's lived there for ever. She used to be
+there, and her flowers, when I was four years old."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess she isn't anybody, is she?" said Miss Bentley. "I<!-- Page 234 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> never see
+any carriages at the door. Hasn't she a carriage of her own, I wonder,
+or how does she travel? Such a house ought to have a carriage."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you," said the St. Clair, coolly as usual. "She goes out in
+a wagon with an awning to it. <i>She</i> don't know anything about
+carriages."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"She's got money," said the St. Clair. "Her mother made it selling
+cabbages in the market. Very likely she sold flowers too."</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>"That sort of thing don't hinder other people from having carriages,"
+said Miss Lansing. "There's Mr. Mason, next door to Miss
+Cardigan,&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"Plenty of carriages, too," said Miss Macy; "and everything else."</p>
+
+<p>"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 Wheelrights
+from wheelwrights."<!-- Page 235 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And what a world of smiths there must have been first and last," said
+Miss Lansing. "The world is full of their descendants."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Everybody's</i> money wasn't made, though," said the St. Clair, with an
+inexpressible attitude of her short upper lip.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it was,&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>can't</i> go back far enough," said the St. Clair, haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>"How then?" said the other. "How do you account for it? Where did
+their money come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"It grew," said the St. Clair ineffably. "They were lords of the
+soil."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!&mdash;But it had to be dug out, I suppose?" said Miss Macy.</p>
+
+<p>"There were others to do that."</p>
+
+<p>"After all," said Miss Macy, "how is money that grew any better than
+money that is made? it is all made by somebody, too."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"My grandfather's hands were clean," she said; "yet he made his own
+money. Honest hands always are clean."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"O St. Clair!" Miss Lansing said, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"I always smell them when I go past," said the other, ele<!-- Page 236 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>vating her
+scornful little nose; it was a handsome nose too.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it makes any difference," said Miss Bentley, "provided
+people <i>have</i> money, how they came by it. Money buys the same thing
+for one that it does for another."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my good Bentley, that is just what it <i>don't</i>," said St. Clair,
+drumming up the window-pane with the tips of her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because!&mdash;people that have always had money know how to use it; and
+people who have just come into their money <i>don't</i> know. You can tell
+the one from the other as far off as the head of the avenue."</p>
+
+<p>"But what is to hinder their going to the same milliner and
+mantua-maker, for instance, or the same cabinet-maker,&mdash;and buying the
+same things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Or the same jeweller, or the same&mdash;anything? So they could if they
+knew which they were."</p>
+
+<p>"Which <i>what</i> were? It is easy to tell which is a fashionable
+milliner, or mantua-maker; everybody knows that."</p>
+
+<p>"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
+<i>be</i> fashionable."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I can tell you now," she said, "what that old Miss Cardigan has got
+in her house&mdash;just as well as if I saw it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever go in?" said Lansing eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"We don't visit," said the other. "But I can tell you just as<!-- Page 237 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> well;
+and you can send Daisy Randolph some day to see if it is true."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on, St. Clair&mdash;what is there?" said Miss Macy.</p>
+
+<p>"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 may be 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&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it is a very handsome house, I should think, if you have told
+true," said Miss Bentley.</p>
+
+<p>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 for ever without the smile and
+regard of that portion of the world which little St. Clair
+represented? It is powerful even in a school!</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 238 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> 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&mdash;as something not worthy a thought.</p>
+
+<p>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 schoolgirl. 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 unmistakable
+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 slight which I felt. The
+effect of the whole was to make a long struggle in my mind. "The world
+knoweth us not"&mdash;gave the character and condition of that party to
+which I belonged. I was feeling now what those words mean,&mdash;and it was
+not pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>This struggle had been going on for several weeks, and growing more
+and more wearying, when Mrs. Sandford came one<!-- Page 239 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> 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 toilets 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&mdash;"The world knoweth us
+not"&mdash;and carrying on the struggle in my heart all the while. By and
+by we turned to come down the avenue.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 240 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> 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&mdash;a real, actual fire of sticks&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I know them. Be seated," said our hostess. "I know them well. But I
+don't know this little lady."</p>
+
+<p>"A little friend of mine, Miss Cardigan; she is at school with your
+neighbour opposite,&mdash;Miss Daisy Randolph."</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;do you like my cat; or
+would you like maybe to go in and look at my flowers?&mdash;yes?&mdash;Step in
+that way, dear; just go through that room, and on, straight through;
+you'll smell them before you come to them."<!-- Page 241 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;or summoned the images of that time
+back to me. Father and mother and home&mdash;the delights and freedoms of
+those days&mdash;the carelessness, and the care&mdash;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&mdash;above all, when papa and mamma and I were <i>at home</i>. 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<!-- Page 242 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> 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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa is away," I said, forcing myself to speak,&mdash;"and mamma:&mdash;and we
+used to have these flowers&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"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, dear. Will you come again and see them? They
+will say something else next time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, may I?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Just whenever you like, and as often as you like. So I'll expect
+you."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 243 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"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,"&mdash;the lot of all Christ's people,&mdash;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.<!-- Page 244 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>FRENCH DRESSES.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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<!-- Page 245 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> 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&mdash;"Daisy, are you afraid?&mdash;Daisy, are
+you afraid?&mdash;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 <span class="smcap">He</span> is enough, even if the world does not know you. He is rich
+enough for you as well as for us."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a new rose out, did ye see it?" she said; "and this blue
+hyacinth has opened its flowers. Isn't that bonny?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is <i>bonny</i>, ma'am?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cardigan laughed, the heartiest, sonsiest low laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a many things the Lord has made bonny," she said. "I thank
+Him for it. Look at these violets&mdash;they're bonny; and<!-- Page 246 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> 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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor just weel in your mind. No, no. Well, what did the flowers say to
+you to-day, my dear? Eh? They told you something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes!" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Did they tell you that 'the Lord is good; a stronghold in the day of
+trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in Him?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," I said, looking up at her in surprise. "How did you know?"</p>
+
+<p>For all answer, Miss Cardigan folded her two arms tight about me and
+kissed me with earnest good will.</p>
+
+<p>"But they told me something else," I said, struggling to command
+myself;&mdash;"they told me that I had <i>not</i> 'trusted in Him.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my bairn!" she said. "But the Lord is good."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it all right, noo?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Except <i>me</i>,&mdash;" I said with my eyes swimming.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well!" she said. "You've seen the sky all black and covered with
+the thick clouds&mdash;that's like our sins: but, 'I have<!-- Page 247 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> 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 all 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?"</p>
+
+<p>And I looked up now with a smile and answered, "'The precious blood of
+Christ'"&mdash;for the two texts had been close together in one of the
+pages of my little book not long before.</p>
+
+<p>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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had a friend, that taught me in a Sunday-school, four years ago,&mdash;"
+I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is my own fault," I said, looking at her gratefully. The tender
+voice went right into my heart.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 248 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 249 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye are studying some deep question," she said, smiling. "Maybe it's
+too big for you."</p>
+
+<p>"So it is," said I, sighing. "Is it so everywhere, Miss Cardigan?"</p>
+
+<p>"So how, my bairn?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is there so much trouble everywhere in the world?"</p>
+
+<p>Her face clouded over.</p>
+
+<p>"Jesus said, 'The poor ye have always with you, and whensoever ye will
+ye may do them good.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But that is what I don't understand about," I said. "<i>How much</i> ought
+one to do, Miss Cardigan?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you thought upon that?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said,&mdash;"very much."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a great question!" she said, her face becoming grave again.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," I said, "of course one ought to do all one can. But what I
+want to know is, how much one <i>can</i>. How much ought one to spend, for
+such things?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a great question," Miss Cardigan repeated, more gravely than
+before. "For when the King comes, to take account of<!-- Page 250 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> His servants, He
+will want to know what we have done with every penny. Be sure, He
+will."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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, its nigh
+our tea-time. Let us go in."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 251 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> coins were going into
+the box with all her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what it is?" said my hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"I see, ma'am," I replied; "it is written under."</p>
+
+<p>"That box is the Lord's treasury."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," I said,&mdash;"I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember how much that woman gave?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two mites,"&mdash;I said.</p>
+
+<p>"It was something more than that," said my hostess. "It was more than
+anybody else gave that day. Don't you recollect? It was <i>all her
+living</i>."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am," said I, "do you think people that are <i>rich</i> ought to give
+all they have?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I was silent, looking at the picture and thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what made that poor widow give her two mites?" Miss Cardigan
+asked presently.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose she wanted to give them," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," said my hostess, turning away,&mdash;"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"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.<!-- Page 252 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;here it is. And Lotty
+will bring us up a bit of hot toast&mdash;or is bread the 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&mdash;you could bring your study book
+and study here in this quiet little corner by the flowers."</p>
+
+<p>I gave my very glad thanks. I knew that I could often do this.</p>
+
+<p>"And now for the 'not understanding,'" said Miss Cardigan, when tea
+was half over. "How was it, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been puzzled," I said, "about giving&mdash;how much one ought to
+give, and how much one ought to spend&mdash;I mean for oneself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Miss Cardigan brightly, "we have fixed that. The poor
+woman gave <i>all her living</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"But one must spend <i>some</i> money for oneself," I said. "One must have
+bonnets and cloaks and dresses."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I turned this over in my mind. Had I done this, when I was choosing my
+chinchilla cap and grey cloak? A little ray of<!-- Page 253 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> infinite brightness
+began to steal in upon their quiet colours and despised forms.</p>
+
+<p>"If the rich are to give their all, as well as the poor, it doesn't
+say&mdash;mind you&mdash;that they are to give it all to the hungry, or all to
+the destitute; but only, they are to give it all <i>to Christ</i>. Then, He
+will tell them what to do with it; do ye understand, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cardigan's eye was watching me, not more kindly than keen. A wise
+and clear grey eye it was.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"It's no very difficult," said Miss Cardigan,&mdash;"if once ye set your
+face in the right <i>airth</i>&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>For the friendship between us ripened and grew. I often<!-- Page 254 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 in quiet order.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;chosen by my mother&mdash;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.<!-- Page 255 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> 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 <i>was</i> pride, I was ashamed of it. But besides French
+dresses, my aunt brought me a better thing; a promise from my father.</p>
+
+<p>"He said I was to tell you, Daisy my dear,&mdash;and I hope you will be a
+good child and take it as you ought&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"Not too tall," said madame.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Randolph will not shame anybody belonging to her," said Mme.
+Ricard, graciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose not," said my aunt. "I was going to tell you what
+your father said, Daisy. He said&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>I waited in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"So altogether," my aunt went on, turning for a moment to Mme. Ricard,
+"there was a doubt about it; and your father<!-- Page 256 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> said, he charged me to
+tell Daisy, that if she will make herself contented&mdash;that is,
+supposing they cannot come home next year, you know&mdash;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, <i>then</i>, the year after next or the
+next year he will send for you, your father says, <i>unless</i> they come
+home themselves&mdash;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 to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>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?"</p>
+
+<p>I did not know, for Mrs. Sandford was obliged to be with her sister
+still, so that I could not go to Melbourne.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if your new guardian thinks well of it&mdash;you can consult him if
+it is necessary&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 257 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> 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, <i>not</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>have</i> improved!"</p>
+
+<p>"She is very much improved," said Miss Bentley more soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"She is changed," said Miss St. Clair, with a look I could not quite
+make out.</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said; "I hope I am not changed."</p>
+
+<p>"Your dress is," said St. Clair.</p>
+
+<p>I thought of Dr. Sandford's "<i>L'habit, c'est l'homme</i>." "My mother had
+this dress made," I said; "and I ordered the other one; that is all
+the difference."<!-- Page 258 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You're on the right side of the difference, then," said Miss St.
+Clair.</p>
+
+<p>"Has your mother come back, Daisy?" Miss Lansing asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet. She sent me this from Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Miss Macy; "she always was, only you didn't see it."</p>
+
+<p>"Style is more than a face," said Miss St. Clair cavalierly. Somehow I
+felt that this little lady was not in a good mood awards 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 of 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." <i>Had</i> 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<!-- Page 259 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> 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 <i>then?</i> Did I want style
+and a face too? Was I wishing to confound St. Clair? Was I escaping
+already from that bond and a mark of a Christian&mdash;"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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, when is your mother coming home?" "Oh, she is gone to China;
+Daisy's mother is gone to China!"&mdash;"She'll bring you lots of queer
+things, won't she?"&mdash;"What a sweet dress!"&mdash;"<i>That</i> didn't come from
+China?"&mdash;"Daisy, who's head in mathematics, you or St. Clair? I hope
+you will get before her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" I ventured to ask.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're the best of the two; everybody knows that. But St. Clair
+is smart, isn't she?"<!-- Page 260 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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!&mdash;she's doing it
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"She's handsome though, ain't she?" said Miss Macy. "She'll be
+beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mlle. Géneviève; "not that. Never that. She will be
+handsome; but beauty is a thing of the soul. <i>She</i> will not be
+beautiful. Daisy, are you going to work hard this year?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you," she said, taking my face between her two hands and
+kissing it.</p>
+
+<p>"Whoever saw Mlle. Géneviève do that before!" said Miss Macy, as the
+other left us. "She is not apt to like the scholars."</p>
+
+<p>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 to 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 not 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. Sand<!-- Page 261 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>ford's observation,
+"<i>L'habit, c'est l'homme.</i>" 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 <i>knew me</i>, just for the moment.</p>
+
+<p>Well, the smooth way was very pleasant. I had it with everybody for a
+time.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;I do not mean to
+call it unlucky, either&mdash;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 sculpture 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so hard at work!" said the voice of Mlle. Géneviève.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mademoiselle, I like it."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got all the books and all that you want?"<!-- Page 262 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Books, mademoiselle?"&mdash;I said wondering.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; have you got all you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not got any books," I said; "there are none that I want in the
+school library."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you never been in madame's library?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>"Come!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what do you want, <i>mon enfant</i>? here is everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there anything about Egypt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Egypt! Are you in Egypt? See here&mdash;look, here is Denon&mdash;here is
+Laborde; here are two or three more. Do you like that? Ah! I see by
+the way your grey eyes grow big&mdash;Now sit down, and do what you like.
+Nobody will disturb you. You can come here every evening for the hour
+before tea."</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle scarce stayed 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.<!-- Page 263 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;" 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you hear yourself called?" said a voice behind me. "Why don't
+you go?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked round at Miss Macy, who was my adviser, then doubtfully I
+looked away from her and caught the eyes of Mlle. Géneviève. 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.</p>
+
+<p>"The prize is yours, Miss Randolph," she said graciously. "Your paper
+is approved by all the judges."<!-- Page 264 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Quite artistic,"&mdash;I heard a gentleman say at her elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I was confounded; and a low curtsey was only a natural relief to my
+feelings. But madame unhappily took it otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>"This is yours," she said, putting into my hands an elegant little
+bronze standish;&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Daisy!" said Miss Lansing,&mdash;"you've got it. How pretty! isn't
+it, Macy?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't a bit prettier than it ought to be, for a prize in such a
+school," said Miss Macy. "It will do."</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen handsomer prizes," said Miss Bentley.</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>before company</i>,&mdash;didn't we,
+St. Clair?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But Randolph is not French, are you, Randolph?" said Blackeyes, who
+was good-natured through everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame is not French herself," said Miss Bentley.<!-- Page 265 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I hate everything at school!" St. Clair went on.</p>
+
+<p>"It's 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."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure there was a great deal finer writing in Faustina's
+composition," said Miss Bentley.</p>
+
+<p>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 on 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 bed-time. But I was mistaken.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 vaca<!-- Page 266 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>tion 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I went home in good time. In the hall, however, Mlle. Géneviève 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!&mdash;Dear me! we're so good,&mdash;Grace and Devotion,&mdash;Christian
+grace, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue, St. Clair," said Miss Macy, but not in a way, I
+thought, to check her; if she could have been checked.<!-- Page 267 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But it's too bad, Macy," said the girl. "We're all so rough, you
+know. <i>We</i> don't know how to behave ourselves; we can't make curtseys;
+our mothers never taught us anything,&mdash;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 <i>à plomb</i> there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who talked about <i>à plomb</i>?" said Miss Bentley.</p>
+
+<p>"You have enough of that, at any rate, Faustina," said Lansing.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. St. Clair's child ought to have that," said Miss Macy.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Faustina!" said Miss Macy.</p>
+
+<p>"It's fair,"&mdash;said Miss Bentley.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better not talk about Christian grace, girls. That isn't a
+matter of opinion."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, isn't it!" cried St. Clair, half rising up in her bed. "What is
+it, then?"</p>
+
+<p>Nobody answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I say!&mdash;Macy, what <i>is</i> Christian grace&mdash;if you know! If you <i>don't</i>
+know, I'll put you in the way to find out."</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I find out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you do it, if I show it you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Ask Randolph. That's the first step. Ask her,&mdash;yes! just ask her, if
+you want to know. I wish Mme. Ricard was here to hear the answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Macy.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask her! You said you would. Now ask her."</p>
+
+<p>"What is Christian grace, Daisy?" said Miss Bentley.<!-- Page 268 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I heard, but I would not answer. I hoped the storm would blow over,
+after a puff or two. But Blackeyes, 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!"&mdash;she said, laughing, in a loud whisper,&mdash;"come, wake up!
+you're not asleep, you know. Wake up and tell us;&mdash;everybody knows
+<i>you</i> know;&mdash;what <i>is</i> Christian grace? Daisy!&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She shook me a little.</p>
+
+<p>"If you knew, you would not ask me,"&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"Capital!" cried St. Clair. "That's just it&mdash;we <i>don't</i> know; and we
+only want to find out whether she does. Make her tell, Lansing&mdash;prick
+a little pin into her&mdash;that will bring it out."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lansing!"&mdash;I exclaimed, rousing up in bed and confronting her.
+They all shouted again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we'll have it!" cried St. Clair. "Keep cool, Blackeyes; let's
+hear&mdash;we'll have an exposition now. Theme, Christian grace."<!-- Page 269 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ah, there rushed through my heart with her words a remembrance of
+other words&mdash;a fluttering vision of something "gentle and easy to be
+entreated"&mdash;"first pure, then peaceable"&mdash;"gentleness, goodness,
+meekness."&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"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"&mdash;I went on slowly,&mdash;"Miss Macy's kindness&mdash;Miss Bentley's
+independence&mdash;and Miss St. Clair's good breeding!"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>And</i> Miss Randolph's religion!" echoed the last-named, with a quiet
+distinctness which went into my heart.</p>
+
+<p>"What about my independence?" said Miss Bentley.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we've got enough, girls,&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>His</i> 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<!-- Page 270 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it all that happened last night?" said Miss Lansing.</p>
+
+<p>"Advancement in knowledge,"&mdash;said Miss St. Clair.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, girls&mdash;don't begin again," said Miss Macy.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;so you see, naturally,
+Macy, I am curious; and when a good specimen offers&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not a good specimen," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't use the word right," remarked Miss Macy. "A <i>sample</i> is
+taken from what is,&mdash;not from what ought to be."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care," was St. Clair's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not behave like a Christian last night," I forced myself to
+say. "I was impatient."</p>
+
+<p>"Like an impatient Christian then, I suppose," said St Clair.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 271 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> 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, O 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, you are not right to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't been right since I got that standish," I burst forth.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, my pet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Cardigan," I said, "can any one be a Christian and yet&mdash;yet&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do something unworthy a Christian?" she said. "I wot well they can!
+But then, they are weak Christians."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What then, Daisy?" she asked at length, as if the suspense pained
+her.<!-- Page 272 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I acted so, Miss Cardigan," I said; and I told her all about it.</p>
+
+<p>"So the devil has found a weak spot in your armour," she said. "You
+must guard it well, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"How can I?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that, Miss Cardigan?"</p>
+
+<p>"The shield of <i>faith</i>, dear. Only believe. According to your faith be
+it unto you."</p>
+
+<p>"Believe what?" I asked, lifting my head at last.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But I got impatient," I said, "at the girls' way of talking."</p>
+
+<p>"And perhaps you were a wee bit set up in your heart because you got
+the prize of the day."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Proud!</i>" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't it look like it? Even proud of being a Christian, mayhap."</p>
+
+<p>"Could I!" I said. "Was I?"</p>
+
+<p>"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.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that," I said and my tears started afresh.</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I help it in future?" I asked after a while, during which
+my friend had been silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Help it?" she said cheerfully. "You can't help it&mdash;but Jesus can."<!-- Page 273 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But my impatience, and&mdash;my pride," I said, very downcast.</p>
+
+<p>"'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'&mdash;may be said of every one of the Lord's
+people."</p>
+
+<p>"But will He keep me from impatience, and take pride out of my heart?
+Why, I did not know it was there, Miss Cardigan."</p>
+
+<p>"Did He say 'Whatsoever you 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?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Whatsoever</i>, Miss Cardigan," I said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"He said so. Are you going to write it over again?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "But then, may one have <i>anything</i> one asks for."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything in the world&mdash;if it is not contrary to His will&mdash;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.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But how can we <i>know</i> what is according to His will?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>This</i> is, at any rate," said Miss Cardigan; "for He has commanded us
+to be holy as He is holy."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;other things?" I said. "How can one ask for everything 'in
+faith, nothing wavering?' How can one be sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;wholly, mind,&mdash;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<!-- Page 274 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> to you:&mdash;that is, if ye want it <i>enough</i>.
+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."</p>
+
+<p>"Then,"&mdash;I began and stopped, looking at her with my eyes full of
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," she said,&mdash;"just so. There's no need that you nor me should be
+under the power of the evil one, for we're <i>free</i>. The Lord's words
+arn'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."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 275 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>GREY COATS.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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,"&mdash;I
+have learned are not his words any more than mine.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 276 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this?" I said, finding a roll of bills.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my wages, Miss Daisy. I only kept out two dollars, ma'am&mdash;I
+wanted a pair of shoes so bad&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"But your wages, Margaret?" I said&mdash;"I have nothing to do with your
+wages."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Daisy&mdash;they belongs to master, and I allowed to bring 'em
+to you. They's all there so fur. It's all right."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 277 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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. There was nothing to cause
+uneasiness; the intervals were often long between one packet of
+letters and the next; but 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 278 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Daisy!&mdash;is this Daisy?" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it not?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not the old Daisy. You are so grown, my dear!&mdash;so&mdash;That's right,
+Grant; let us have a little light to see each other by."</p>
+
+<p>"It is Miss Randolph&mdash;" said the doctor, after he had drawn up the
+window shade.</p>
+
+<p>"Like her mother! isn't she? and yet, not like&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all like."</p>
+
+<p>"She is, though, Grant; you are mistaken; she <i>is</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford," said I, "Mme. Ricard does not like to have the sun
+shine into this room."</p>
+
+<p>"It's Daisy, too," said the doctor, smiling, as he drew down the shade
+again. "Don't <i>you</i> like it, Miss Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course," I said; "but she does not."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that is only for the carpets," I said.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little pale," said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"Let her speak for herself."<!-- Page 279 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I said I did not know I was pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you know you had head-ache a good deal of the time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Dr. Sandford, I knew that. It is not very bad."</p>
+
+<p>"Does not hinder you from going on with study?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, never."</p>
+
+<p>"You have a good deal of time for study at night, too, do you
+not?&mdash;after the lights are out."</p>
+
+<p>"At night? how did you know that? But it is not always <i>study</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"No. You consume also a good deal of beef and mutton, nowadays? You
+prefer substantials in food as in everything else?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do," said the doctor. "Daisy, have you heard lately from
+your father or mother?"</p>
+
+<p>My breath came short as I said no.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Not before school closes, Dr. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you care about that?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child," said Mrs. Sandford, "we are going to West Point&mdash;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."<!-- Page 280 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you care, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford repeated.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You have made up your mind that you do not care about staying to the
+end here?" said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford," I said, "I believe I <i>do</i> care; but not about anything
+worth while."</p>
+
+<p>He took both my hands, standing before me, and looked at me, I
+thought, as if I were the old little child again.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you will enjoy it, Daisy," Mrs. Sandford repeated.</p>
+
+<p>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 the
+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.</p>
+
+<p>We left the city three or four days later. It was a June day&mdash;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;<!-- Page 281 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> 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&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>I find it hard to write without epithets. As I said I was in
+fairyland; and how shall one describe fairyland?</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 282 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" I asked the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry, Daisy, I don't know. I am quite as ignorant as yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the riding-hall," I heard somebody say.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you!" I said. "The riding-hall!&mdash;who rides in it?"</p>
+
+<p>"We do," he said, and then smiled,&mdash;"The cadets."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And those other buildings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Those are the stables."</p>
+
+<p>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 from different directions to the doors, looked
+as if this was a place of business. Somebody pulled the string here
+and the omnibus stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the library," my neighbour in grey remarked; and<!-- Page 283 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> 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 girded 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you met an acquaintance already, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford asked as
+he handed me out.</p>
+
+<p>"An acquaintance?" said I. "No, but I shall find 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<!-- Page 284 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> were warm with sunlight, and here and
+there a slope of the western hills. There was a point of the lower
+ground, thrust out into the river, between me and the eastern shore,
+which lay wholly in shadow, one 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 as sharp as a needle. It is all
+before me, even the summer stillness in which my senses were wrapt.
+There was a clatter in the house behind me, but I did not hear it
+then.</p>
+
+<p>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 my self 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&mdash;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&mdash;in bringing others to the joy of the knowledge of Him.<!-- Page 285 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you like it, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>I told him, and thanked him for bringing me.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you tired?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I don't think I am tired."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not hungry, of course, for you can eat nothing. Do you think
+you shall sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel like it now. I do not generally get sleepy till a great
+while after this."</p>
+
+<p>"You will go to sleep somewhere about nine o'clock," said the doctor;
+"and not wake up till you are called in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>I thought he was mistaken, but as I could not prove it I said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you glad to get away from school?"</p>
+
+<p>"On some accounts. I like school too, Dr. Sandford; but there are some
+things I do not like."</p>
+
+<p>"That remark might be made, Daisy, about every condition of life with
+which I am acquainted."</p>
+
+<p>"I could not make it just now," I said. He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you secured a large circle of friends among your
+schoolmates,&mdash;that are to last for ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think they love me well enough for that," I said, wondering
+somewhat at my guardian's questioning mood.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor you them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not."<!-- Page 286 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford, "I am surprised! I thought you used
+to love everybody."</p>
+
+<p>I tried to think how that might be, and whether I had changed. Dr.
+Sandford interrupted my thoughts again&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How is it with friends out of school?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I have none," I said; thinking only of girls like myself.</p>
+
+<p>"None?" he said. "Do you really know nobody in New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody,&mdash;but one old lady."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is she? and who lives with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody lives with her; she has only her servants."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know about her then, besides what she has told you?
+Excuse me, and please have the grace to satisfy me."</p>
+
+<p>"I know I must," I said half laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Must?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"You know I must too, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it my duty, Dr. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember," I said, smiling to think of it; "but I was a child then,
+Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!&mdash;Well, apropos of duty, you may go on about Miss Cardigan."<!-- Page 287 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;except the way her money was made."</p>
+
+<p>"How was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard that her mother was a marketwoman," I said very
+unwillingly; for I knew the conclusions that would be drawn.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it likely," Dr. Sandford said slowly, "that the daughter of a
+marketwoman should be a good friend in every respect for the daughter
+of Mrs. Randolph?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may not be <i>likely</i>," I answered with equal slowness;&mdash;"but it is
+true."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you prove your position, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is your objection to her, Dr. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"Simply what you have told me. The different classes of society are
+better apart."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;which I
+thought it was no use to tell Dr. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"She has no family, you say, nor friends who live with her, or whom
+you meet at her house?"</p>
+
+<p>"None at all. I think she is quite alone."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Daisy," said the doctor, "you have studied the matter, and I do
+not doubt you have formed a philosophy of your own by this time. Pray
+make me the wiser."<!-- Page 288 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have no philosophy of my own, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"Your own thus far, that nobody shares it with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that your notion of me?" I said, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"A very good notion. Nothing is worse than commonplace people. Indulge
+me, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>So I thought I had better.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford&mdash;if you will indulge me. What is <i>your</i> notion of
+dignity?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"My notion of dignity!" he exclaimed. "I don't believe I have any,
+Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but we are talking seriously."</p>
+
+<p>"Very. We always are when you are one of the talkers."</p>
+
+<p>"Then please explain your notion of dignity."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it when I see it," said the doctor; "but faith! I don't know
+what makes it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but you think some people, or some classes, are set up above
+others."</p>
+
+<p>"So do you."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think makes the highest class, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is good to know where we stand."</p>
+
+<p>"Very," said Dr. Sandford, laughing. That is, in his way of laughing.
+It was never loud.<!-- Page 289 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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 <span class="smcap">MY BROTHER</span>, and <span class="smcap">MY SISTER</span>, and
+<span class="smcap">MOTHER</span>.' I want to be one of those."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, "the society of the world is not
+arranged on that principle."</p>
+
+<p>I knew it very well. I said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"And you cannot, just yet, go out of the world."</p>
+
+<p>It was no use to tell Dr. Sandford what I thought. I was silent still.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you think of correct grammar, and clean hands?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Clean hands!" I echoed.</p>
+
+<p>"You like them," he said, smiling. "The people you mean often go
+without them&mdash;if report says true."</p>
+
+<p>"Not the people <i>I</i> mean," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know the society I speak of, Dr. Sandford; and<!-- Page 290 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> Miss
+Cardigan has all these, more or less; besides something a great deal
+better."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;well, yes,
+they were of the despised orders of the world. My friend Darry, at the
+stables of Magnolia&mdash;my friend Maria, in the kitchen of the great
+house&mdash;the other sable and sober faces that came around theirs in
+memory's grouping&mdash;they were not educated nor polished nor elegant.
+Yet well I knew, that having owned Christ before men, 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.</p>
+
+<p>I slept, as Dr. Sandford had prophesied I would that night. I awoke to
+a vision of beauty.</p>
+
+<p>My remembrance of those days that followed is like a summer morning,
+with a diamond hanging to every blade of grass.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;the brisk notes of a<!-- Page 291 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> 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 downstairs. 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 farther and farther. 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<!-- Page 292 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 293 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What is on the other side of the house?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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 was a border of buildings and
+of flourishing trees as well. 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are those people that wear grey, with a black stripe down the
+leg?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Grey?" said the doctor. "Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is one yonder under the trees," I said, "and there was one in
+the omnibus yesterday. Are those the cadets?"<!-- Page 294 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Preston wears that dress. I wonder how I shall find him, Dr.
+Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"Find whom?" said the doctor, waking up.</p>
+
+<p>"My cousin Preston&mdash;Preston Gary. He is here."</p>
+
+<p>"Here?" repeated the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;he is a cadet&mdash;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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am ignorant, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"But we must find him," I said, "for of course he will want to see me,
+and I want to see him, very much."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know, Daisy," he said at last; "but we can find out. I will
+ask Captain Southgate or somebody else."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," I said. "Who are those, Dr. Sandford, those others
+dressed in dark frock coats, with bright bars over their
+shoulders?&mdash;like that one just now going out of the gate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Those are officers of the army."</p>
+
+<p>"There are a good many of them. What are they here for? Are there many
+soldiers here?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;" said the doctor, "I believe not. I think these gentlemen are
+put here to look after the grey coats&mdash;the cadets, Daisy, The cadets
+are here in training, you know."<!-- Page 295 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But that officer who just went out&mdash;who is walking over the plain
+now&mdash;he wore a sword, Dr. Sandford; and a red sash. They do not all
+wear them. What is that for?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is under discussion?" said Mrs. Sandford, coming out. "How well
+Daisy looks this morning, don't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Get your hat, Daisy," he said, "I will go with you to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>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 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 farther 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<!-- Page 296 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> iron seats placed for
+the convenience of spectators. And here, among many others, Dr.
+Sandford and I sat down.</p>
+
+<p>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 whom 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.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Dr. Sandford?" I whispered, after a few minutes of
+intense enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"But what are they doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 297 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>YANKEES.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">FOR several days I saw nothing of Preston. He was hardly missed.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>him</i>, but he
+must wait upon his little mistress. I mean of course the Newfoundland
+dog; not Dr. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 298 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A walk? Oh, yes!" I said. "Where shall we go?"</p>
+
+<p>"To look for wonderful things," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Only don't take the child among the rattlesnakes," said Mrs.
+Sandford. "<i>They</i> are wonderful, I suppose, but not pleasant. You will
+get her all tanned, Grant!"</p>
+
+<p>But I took these hints of danger as coolly as the doctor himself did;
+and another of my West Point delights began.</p>
+
+<p>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
+civilization, 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 not 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,<!-- Page 299 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you tired, Daisy?" he said, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>"My feet are tired," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all of you that can be tired. Sit down where you are&mdash;I will
+come to you directly."</p>
+
+<p>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 sounds that could be heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Why you are warm, as well as tired, Daisy," he said, coming up to my
+rock at last.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> warm," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Warm?" said he. "Look here, Daisy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what in the world is that?" I said, laughing. "A little mud or
+earth is all that I can see."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, your eyes are not good for much, Daisy&mdash;except to look at."<!-- Page 300 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not good for much for <i>that</i>," I said, amused; for his eyes were bent
+upon the earth in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you like wonderful things as well as ever."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I do!" I said. "What is it, Dr. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 301 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Dinner is just ready," said Mrs. Sandford, meeting us in the hall.
+"Why, where <i>have</i> you been? And look at the colour of Daisy's face!
+Oh, Grant, what have you done with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very good colour&mdash;" said the doctor, peering under my hat.</p>
+
+<p>"She's all flushed and sunburnt, and overheated."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Principles?" half exclaimed Mrs. Sandford, with so dismayed an
+expression that the doctor and I both laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly," said the doctor, putting his hand in his pocket. "Look
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"I see nothing but a little dirt."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall see something else by and by&mdash;if you will."</p>
+
+<p>"You have never brought your microscope here, Grant? Where in the
+world will you set it up?"<!-- Page 302 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"In your room&mdash;after dinner&mdash;if you permit."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Sandford found a great many officers to talk to.</p>
+
+<p>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
+guardmounting. 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<!-- Page 303 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have been here ever since Friday. Why haven't you been to see me?
+Dr. Sandford sent word to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford!" said Preston, taking the place by my side. "How did
+you come here, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I came by the boat, last Friday. How should I come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you with?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford&mdash;and Mrs. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mrs.</i> Sandford, and Dr. Sandford," said Preston, pointedly. "You are
+not with the doctor, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"Why yes, I am," I answered. "He is my guardian&mdash;don't you know,
+Preston? He brought me. How tall you have grown!"</p>
+
+<p>"A parcel of Yankees," said Preston. "Poor little Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"It is. So I do," said Preston. "They are a mean set&mdash;fit for nothing
+but to eat codfish and scrape. I wish you had nothing to do with
+Yankees."</p>
+
+<p>I thought how all the South lived upon stolen earnings. It was a
+disagreeable turn to my meditations for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 304 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Have you!" I said. "Oh, I suppose I was out walking."</p>
+
+<p>"With whom were you walking."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anybody here, but those I came with. But, Preston, why
+are you not over yonder with the others?"</p>
+
+<p>I was looking at the long grey line formed in front of us on the
+plain.</p>
+
+<p>"I got leave of absence, to come and see you, Daisy. And <i>you</i> have
+grown, and improved. You're wonderfully improved. Are you the very
+same Daisy? and what are you going to do here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm enjoying myself. Now, Preston why does that man stand so?"</p>
+
+<p>"What man?"</p>
+
+<p>"That officer&mdash;here in front, standing all alone, with the sash and
+sword. Why does he stand so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush. That is Captain Percival. He is the officer in charge."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he looks after the parade, and things."</p>
+
+<p>"But why does he stand so, Preston?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stand how?" said Preston, unsympathizingly. "That is good standing."</p>
+
+<p>"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
+<i>very</i> awkward."</p>
+
+<p>"They all stand so," said Preston. "That's right enough."</p>
+
+<p>"It is ungraceful."</p>
+
+<p>"It is military."</p>
+
+<p>"Must one be ungraceful in order to be military?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He</i> isn't ungraceful. That is Percival&mdash;of South Carolina."<!-- Page 305 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The officer yesterday stood a great deal better," I went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday? That was Blunt. He's a Yankee."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what then, Preston?" I said laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"I despise them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't there Yankees among the cadets?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course; but they are no count&mdash;only here and there there's one of good
+family. Don't you have anything to do with them, Daisy!&mdash;mind;&mdash;not with
+one of them, unless I tell you who he is."</p>
+
+<p>"With one of whom? What are you speaking of?"</p>
+
+<p>"The cadets."</p>
+
+<p>"Why I have nothing to do with them," I said. "How should I?"</p>
+
+<p>Preston looked at me curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor at the hotel, neither, Daisy&mdash;more than you can help. Have
+nothing to say to the Yankees."</p>
+
+<p>I thought Preston had taken a strange fancy. I was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not fitting," he went on. "We are going to change all that. I
+want to have nothing to do with Yankees."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"We have our own set," said Preston. "I have nothing to do with them
+in the corps."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Preston, look; what are they about? All the red sashes are
+getting together."</p>
+
+<p>"Parade is dismissed. They are coming up to salute the officer in
+charge."</p>
+
+<p>"It is so pretty!" I said, as the music burst out again, and the
+measured steps of the advancing line of "red sashes"<!-- Page 306 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> marked it. "And
+now Captain Percival will unbend his stiff elbows. Why could not all
+that be done easily, Preston?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Daisy!&mdash;it is military."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? But Mr. Blunt did it a great deal better. Now they are going.
+Must you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. What are you going to do to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;I suppose we shall go into the woods again."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want anything better than I can get on my own feet," I said
+joyously. "I find plenty to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Daisy," said Preston&mdash;"don't you turn into a masculine,
+muscular woman, that can walk her twenty miles and wear hobnailed
+shoes&mdash;like the Yankees you are among. Don't forget that you are the
+daughter of a Southern gentleman&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He touched his cap hastily and turned away&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>They recurred to me, however, and were as puzzling as ever. I had no
+key at the time.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 307 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," I said, at last, "I understand what it would do in war
+time. But we are not at war, Preston."</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor in the least likely to be."</p>
+
+<p>"We can't tell. It is good to be ready."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you mean?" I remember saying. "You speak as if we might
+be at war. Who is there for us to fight?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody that wants putting in order," said Preston. "The Indians."</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Preston, I think you are very wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"You think all the world is," he said.</p>
+
+<p>We were silent, and I felt very dissatisfied. What <i>was</i> all this
+military schooling a preparation for, perhaps? How could we<!-- Page 308 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see that man, Daisy?" whispered Preston, suddenly in my ear.
+"That one talking to a lady in blue."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a great man."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he?" I said, looking and wondering if a great man could hide
+behind such a physiognomy.</p>
+
+<p>"Other people think so, I can tell you," said Preston. "Nobody knows
+what that man can do. That is Davis of Mississippi."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;Preston said there was&mdash;but the power of the fox and the vulture
+it seemed to me; sly, crafty, selfish, cruel.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Daisy!" said Preston, in an energetic whisper. "That is
+Davis of Mississippi."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said I. "That is no more to me than if he were Jones of New
+York."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!" said Preston. "If you are not a true Southerner, I will never
+love you any more."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by a true Southerner? I do not understand."<!-- Page 309 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do. A true Southerner is always a Southerner, and takes the
+part of a Southerner in every dispute&mdash;right or wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you dislike Northerners so much?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cowardly Yankees!" was Preston's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"You must have an uncomfortable time among them, if you feel so," I
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"There are plenty of the true sort here. I wish you were in Paris,
+Daisy; or somewhere else."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" I said, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Safe with my mother, or <i>your</i> mother. You want teaching. You are too
+latitudinarian. And you are too thick with the Yankees, by half."</p>
+
+<p>I let this opinion alone, as I could do nothing with it; and our
+conversation broke off with Preston in a very bad humour.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I asked why Preston called him a great man.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he call him a great man?" Dr. Sandford asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not I, Daisy. But that may not hinder the fact. And I may not
+have Mr. Gary's means of judging."</p>
+
+<p>"What means can he have?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by a 'split'?" I asked slowly, in my wonderment.</p>
+
+<p>"The States are not precisely like a perfect crystal, Daisy,<!-- Page 310 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> and
+there is an incipient cleavage somewhere about Mason and Dixon's
+line."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know what line that is."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Well, for practical purposes, you may take it as the line between
+the slave States and the free."</p>
+
+<p>"But how could there be a split?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a wedge applied even now, Daisy&mdash;the question whether the
+new States forming out of our Western territories, shall have slavery
+in them or shall be free States."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"The North say," Dr. Sandford then went on, "that these States shall
+be free. The South&mdash;or some men at the South&mdash;threaten that if they
+be, the South will split from the North, have nothing to do with us,
+and set up for themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is to decide it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The people. This fall the election will be held for the next
+President; and that will show. If a slavery man be chosen, we shall
+know that a majority of the nation go with the Southern view."</p>
+
+<p>"If not?"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Then there may be trouble, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of trouble?" I asked hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Sandford hesitated, and then said, "I do not know how far people
+will go."</p>
+
+<p>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 Southernism, Mr.
+Davis's wile and greatness, a coming<!-- Page 311 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> 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
+McFarlane, and others whom I had known, I spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever the Southern people say, they will do, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Provided</i>&mdash;" said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"What, if you please?"</p>
+
+<p>"Provided the North will let them, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>I thought privately they could not hinder. Would there be a trial?
+Could it be possible there would be a trial?</p>
+
+<p>"But you have not answered my question," said the doctor. "Aren't you
+going to answer it?"</p>
+
+<p>"What question?"</p>
+
+<p>"As to the side you would take."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want any more slave States, Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so. Then you would be with the North."</p>
+
+<p>"But people will never be so foolish as to come to what you call a
+'split,' Dr. Sandford."</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;here we shall get a nice piece of quartz for your collection."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 312 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> decreed that I must stay as
+long as possible. Then Mr. Sandford came, the doctor's brother, and
+added his social weight to our 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 guardmounting 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.</p>
+
+<p>So it was, one morning that I remember. Guardmounting was always late
+enough to let one feel the sun's power; and it<!-- Page 313 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> was a sultry morning,
+this. We were in July now, and misty, vaporous 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Awfully hot, Daisy!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you are out in it," I said, compassionately.</p>
+
+<p>"What are <i>you</i> out in it for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I like it," I said. "How come you to be one of the red sashes
+this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been an officer of the guard this last twenty-four hours."</p>
+
+<p>"Since yesterday morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like it, Preston?"<!-- Page 314 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Like</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever do so, Preston?"</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>I was very near laughing, but Preston was not in a mood to bear
+laughing at.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it is beneath a gentleman to keep his shoe-strings
+tied," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"A gentleman can't always think of everything!" he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are glad you have only one year more at the Academy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I am glad! I'll never be under Yankee rule again; not if I
+know it."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to be busy this afternoon?" I asked him.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I reckon not."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you come and go up to the fort with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"What fort?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fort Putnam. I have never been there yet."</p>
+
+<p>"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 uphill; rough, and all that; and nothing at the
+top but an old stone wall."<!-- Page 315 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But there is the view!" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"You have got it down here&mdash;just as good. Just climb up the hotel
+stairs fifty times without stopping, and then look out of the thing at
+the top&mdash;and you have been to Fort Putnam."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I want you to go to the top of Crow's Nest," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>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 band,
+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.</p>
+
+<p>"They all walk like you," I observed carelessly, as I noticed a
+measured step crossing the camp ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Do they?" said Preston sneeringly. "I flatter myself I do not walk
+like <i>all</i> 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&mdash;strange if you couldn't!"</p>
+
+<p>"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 Capt. Percival is from South
+Carolina, and Mr. Hunter is from Virginia, and Col. Forsyth is from
+Georgia. They are all of them less graceful than Major Blunt."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of Dr. Sandford?" said Preston in the same tone;
+but before I could answer I heard a call of "Gary<!-- Page 316 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>!&mdash;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&mdash;"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 most 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<!-- Page 317 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>So much to a back view of character; which engrossed me till my two
+statues went away.</p>
+
+<p>A little while after Preston came. "Are you here yet?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you like to have me here?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's hot. And it is very stupid for you, I should think. Where is
+Mrs. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"She thinks as you do, that it is stupid."</p>
+
+<p>"You ought not to be here without some one."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? What cadet was that who called you, Preston?"</p>
+
+<p>"Called me? Nobody called me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes he did. When you were sitting with me. Who was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know!" said Preston. "Good-bye. I shall be busy for a day or
+two."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you cannot go to Fort Putnam this afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fort Putnam? I should think not. It will be broiling to-day."</p>
+
+<p>And he left me. Things had gone wrong with Preston lately,<!-- Page 318 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> I thought.
+Before I had made up my mind to move, two other cadets came before me.
+One of them Mrs. Sandford knew, and I slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Randolph, my friend Mr. Thorold has begged me to introduce him
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>It was <i>my</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I have to apologize for my rudeness, in calling a gentleman away from
+you, Miss Randolph, in a very unceremonious manner, a little while
+ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know," I said. "I saw what you did with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I do anything with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only called him to his duty, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. He was very excusable for forgetting it; but it might have
+been inconvenient."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not easily pardoned here," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"People don't make allowances?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not officers," he said, with a smile. "Soldiers lose the character of
+men, when on duty; they are only reckoned machines."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not mean that exactly, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I do!" he said, with another slighter coruscation.
+"Intelligent machines, of course, and with no more latitude of action.
+You would not like that life?"<!-- Page 319 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I should think you would not."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but we hope to rise to the management of the machines, some day."</p>
+
+<p>I thought I saw in his face that he did. I remarked that I thought the
+management of machines could not be very pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is degrading to the machines&mdash;and so, I should think, it would not
+be very elevating to those that make them machines."</p>
+
+<p>"That is exactly the use they propose them to serve, though," he said,
+looking amused; "the elevation of themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," I said, thinking that the end was ignoble too.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not approve it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I said I supposed not.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been up to the old fort?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to go there," I said; "but somebody told me to-day, there was
+nothing worth going for."</p>
+
+<p>"Has his report taken away your desire to make the trial?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, for I do not believe he is right."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>I felt it would give me great pleasure too, and so I told him. We
+arranged for the hour, and Mr. Thorold hastened away.<!-- Page 320 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>FORT PUTNAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">I AM going to Fort Putnam this afternoon, with Mr. Thorold," I
+announced to Mrs. Sandford, after dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Mr. Thorold?"</p>
+
+<p>"One of the cadets."</p>
+
+<p>"One of the cadets! So it has got hold of you at last, Daisy!"</p>
+
+<p>"What, Mrs. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"But Fort Putnam? My dearest child, it is very hot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, ma'am&mdash;I don't mind it."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"What will?" I asked, wondering.</p>
+
+<p>"Amusement, dear&mdash;amusement. Something a great deal better than
+Grant's 'elogies and 'ologies. Now this would never have happened if
+he had been at home."<!-- Page 321 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorold was punctual, and so was I; and we set forth at five
+o'clock, I at least was 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet there has always been fighting," said my companion.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I assented.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we must be ready for it."</p>
+
+<p>But I was not prepared in this case with my answer.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said I, pondering. "Why should the rule be different
+for nations and for individual people?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is your rule for individual people?" he asked, laugh<!-- Page 322 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>ing, and
+looking down at me, as he held the gate open. I can see the look and
+the attitude now.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not <i>my</i> rule," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>The</i> rule, then. What should a man do, Miss Randolph, when he is
+unjustly attacked?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no rule but the Bible, Mr. Thorold."</p>
+
+<p>"The Bible! What does the Bible say? It tells us of a great deal of
+fighting."</p>
+
+<p>"Of bad men."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but the Jews were commanded to fight, were they not?"</p>
+
+<p>"To punish bad men. But we have got another rule since that."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"If any man smite thee on the one cheek, turn to him the other also."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible you think the Bible means that literally?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it would say what it did not mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"But try it by the moral effect; what sort of a fellow would a man be
+who did so, Miss Randolph?"</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"And would you have him stand by and see another injured?"<!-- Page 323 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> my
+companion asked. "Wouldn't you have him fight in such a case?"</p>
+
+<p>I had not considered that question. I was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose he sees wrong done; wrong that a few well-planted blows, or
+shots, if you like&mdash;shots are but well-directed blows," he said,
+smiling&mdash;"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to have you," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why it may," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Then West Point is justified."</p>
+
+<p>"But very few wars in the world are conducted on that principle," I
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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,' <i>that</i> does not
+touch life."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"If he did it because he was <i>afraid</i>," 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.'"<!-- Page 324 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But suppose he was afraid of being thought afraid?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You are judging me, Miss Randolph," he said. "Judge me gently."</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed," I said. "I was thinking that you are not speaking from
+experience."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Did it do any good?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed again: picked up a stone and threw it into the midst of a
+thick tree to dislodge something&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how much good it did to anybody but myself," he said.
+"It comforted me&mdash;at the time. Afterwards I remember<!-- Page 325 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> 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&mdash;or in the world either?"</p>
+
+<p>"He would be a noble man, all the same," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"But people like to be well thought of by their friends and society."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that."</p>
+
+<p>"He would be sent to Coventry unmitigatedly."</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;that is all."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not look till you get to the top," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What an odd road!" I remarked. "It just goes by zigzags."</p>
+
+<p>"The only way to get up at all, without travelling round the hill.
+That is, for horses."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 326 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said Mr. Thorold, coming on the outside of me to prevent it,
+"don't look!"&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"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<!-- Page 327 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> beyond that,
+at the farther 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Is guard duty very disagreeable?" I asked, thinking of Preston's talk
+in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, but walk up and down, two hours at a time."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the use of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"To keep order, and make sure that nothing goes in or out that has no
+business to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"And they have to carry their guns," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Their muskets&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they very heavy?"<!-- Page 328 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No. Pretty heavy for an arm that is new to it. I never remember I
+have mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Caxton said," (Mr. Caxton was the cadet who had introduced Mr.
+Thorold to me)&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorold looked at me, a very keen bright look of his hazel eyes;
+but he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"And he said that the little white boxes at the corners of the camp,
+were monuments to those who had fallen on duty."</p>
+
+<p>"Just four of them!" said Mr. Thorold, settling his cap down over his
+brows; but then he laughed, and I laughed; how we laughed!</p>
+
+<p>"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 on
+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 southernly, with its bordering ridge of hills, and above all,
+the wealth and glory of the woodland and the unheaved rocks before me,
+were almost as good as<!-- Page 329 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this place for?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"To plant guns on."</p>
+
+<p>"They could not reach to the river, could they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Much further&mdash;the guns of nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>"And the old vaults under here&mdash;I saw them as we passed by,&mdash;were they
+prisons, places for prisoners?"</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorold looked at me, with an expression of such contained fun
+that I understood it at once; and we had 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;<!-- Page 330 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I see you to-morrow evening?" my companion asked suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow evening?" I said. "I don't know. I suppose we shall be at
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall <i>not</i> see you. I meant, at the hop."</p>
+
+<p>"The hop?" I repeated. "What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The cadets' hop. During the encampment we have a hop three times a
+week&mdash;a cotillion party. I hope you will be there. Haven't you
+received an invitation?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think not," I said. "I have heard nothing about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I will see that that is set right," Mr. Thorold remarked. "And now,
+do you know we must go down?&mdash;that is, <i>I</i> must; and I do not think I
+can leave you here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you have to be on parade!" I exclaimed, starting up; "and it is
+almost time!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 331 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>I had had a great many pieces of pleasure in my life, but rarely a
+<i>companion</i>. Dr. Sandford, Miss Cardigan, my dear Capt. 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 upstairs thinking that I should like to see a
+great deal more of Mr. Thorold.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Sandford was on the piazza when I came down, and alone; everybody
+was gone to parade. She gave me a little billet.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear Daisy!&mdash;are you walked to death? 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."</p>
+
+<p>I stood still, wishing they could.</p>
+
+<p>"There is more pleasure for you," Mrs. Sandford went on.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"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 to dance. It's quite a charity, they tell
+me. I expect I shall have to dance myself."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 332 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> 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
+<i>not</i> to go.</p>
+
+<p>"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 bringing you home scorched."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Mrs. Sandford," I said, "I can dance just as well, if I <i>am</i>
+burnt."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a delusion, Daisy. You are a woman, after all, my dear&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"Cream is yellow," I said.<!-- Page 333 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not all the cream that ever <i>I</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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, ma'am; anything cool, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"It won't matter much," Mrs. Sandford repeated.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>At first sight, when we went into the room, it burst upon me that it was
+very pretty. The room was dressed with flags,&mdash;and evergreens,&mdash;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<!-- Page 334 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> eye; till to my startled
+astonishment, Capt. Percival came up and asked me to 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 Capt. 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 Capt. Percival insinuatingly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You are from the South?"</p>
+
+<p>I had nothing but an insipid assent again.</p>
+
+<p>"I was sure of it," he said. "I could not be mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>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
+Capt. 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 <i>he</i> 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.<!-- Page 335 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Plenty," he said. "It is very kind of them. What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only&mdash;" I said&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he want you for this dance?" was all he said.</p>
+
+<p>"For this, and for the next," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Both gone! Well, may I have the third, and so disappoint somebody
+else?" he said, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I like everything," I told him.</p>
+
+<p>"Are the hills better than this?" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" I said. "Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, and said "truly he did." "You have been over the Flirtation
+walk, of course?" he added.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know which it is."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled again, that quick illuminating smile, which seemed to
+sparkle in his hazel eyes; and nodded his head a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I had the pleasure to see you there, very early one morning."<!-- Page 336 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is that it?" I said. "I have been down that way from the hotel
+very often."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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?</p>
+
+<p>"Those are the Managers," said my companion. "You will see enough of
+them. It is their duty to introduce poor fellows who want partners."</p>
+
+<p>I did not see much of them, however, that evening. As soon as I was
+released from that dance, Capt. Percival brought up Capt. Lascelles;
+and somebody else, Mr. Sandford, I believe, introduced Lt. Vaux, and
+Major Fairbairn; and Major Pitt was another, I believe. And Col.
+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<!-- Page 337 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> 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.<!-- Page 338 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>HOPS.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Thorold," said I, "do you know Mr. Davis of Mississippi?"</p>
+
+<p>"Davis? No, I don't know him," he said shortly.<!-- Page 339 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You have seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have seen him often enough; and his wife, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like his looks?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not."</p>
+
+<p>"He looks to me like a bad man&mdash;" I said slowly. I said it to Mr.
+Thorold; I would hardly have made the remark to another at West Point.</p>
+
+<p>"He is about bad business&mdash;" was my companion's answer. "And yet I do
+not know what he is about; but I distrust the man."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Thorold," said I, beginning cautiously, "do you want to have
+slavery go into the territories?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" said he. "Do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. What do you think would happen if a Northern President should be
+elected in the fall?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then slavery would <i>not</i> go into the territories," he said, looking a
+little surprised at me. "The question would be settled."</p>
+
+<p>"But do you know some people say&mdash;some people at the South say&mdash;that
+if a Northern President is elected, the Southern States will not
+submit to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some people talk a great deal of nonsense," said Mr. Thorold. "How
+could they help submitting?"</p>
+
+<p>"They say&mdash;it is said&mdash;that they would break off from the North and
+set up for themselves. It is not foolish people that say it, Mr.
+Thorold."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you pardon me, Miss Randolph, but I think they would be very
+foolish people that would do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think so too," I said. "I mean, that some people who are not
+foolish believe that it might happen."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," said Mr. Thorold. "I never heard anything of<!-- Page 340 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> it before.
+You are from the South yourself, Miss Randolph?" he added, looking at
+me.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Thorold,"&mdash;I broke the silence,&mdash;"if the South should do such a
+thing, what would happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"There would be trouble," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Might be all sorts," said Mr. Thorold, laughing; "it would depend on
+how far people's folly would carry them."</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose the Southern States should just do that;&mdash;say they would
+break off and govern themselves?"</p>
+
+<p>"They would be like a bad boy that has to be made to take medicine."</p>
+
+<p>"How could you <i>make</i> them?" I asked, feeling unreasonably grave about
+the question.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But how could you <i>help</i> it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether we could help it," he said; "but we would try."<!-- Page 341 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You do not mean that it would come to <i>fighting</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think they would be such fools. I hope we are supposing a
+very unlikely thing, Miss Randolph."</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>"What would <i>you</i> do in case it came to fighting?" said my neighbour.
+The words startled me out of my meditations.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not do anything."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon. Your favour&mdash;your countenance, would do much; on
+one side or the other. You would fight&mdash;in effect&mdash;as surely as I
+should."</p>
+
+<p>I looked up. "Not against you," I said; for I could not bear to be
+misunderstood.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"How comes that?" he said. "You <i>are</i> Southern?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do I look it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"How, Mr. Thorold?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must excuse me. I cannot tell you. But you <i>are</i> South?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "At least, all my friends are Southern. I was born
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"You have <i>one</i> 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<!-- Page 342 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> more. I think our compact of
+friendship was made and settled then and at once.</p>
+
+<p>He stretched out his hand, as if for a further ratification. I put
+mine in it, while he went on,&mdash;"How comes it, then, that you take such
+a view of such a question?"</p>
+
+<p>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>I</i>
+did, that we were just at the end of the rocky walk, where we must
+mount up and take to the plain.</p>
+
+<p>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
+manner 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<!-- Page 343 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mr. Thorold, sitting down opposite me on a
+candle-box&mdash;"how do you think you would like camp life?"</p>
+
+<p>"The tents are too close together," I said.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed, with a good deal of amusement.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do!" he said. "You begin by knocking the camp to pieces."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is beautiful," I went on.</p>
+
+<p>"And not comfortable. Well, it is pretty comfortable," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do when it storms very hard&mdash;at night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you ever get wet?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i> makes no difference."</p>
+
+<p>"Sleep in the rain!" 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&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know Preston Gary?" I asked. "He is a cadet."</p>
+
+<p>"I know him."</p>
+
+<p>I thought the tone of the words, careless as they were, signified
+little value for the knowledge.<!-- Page 344 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have not seen him anywhere," I remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to see him? He has seen you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he cannot," I said, "or he would have come to speak to me."</p>
+
+<p>"He would if he could," replied Mr. Thorold&mdash;"no doubt; but the
+liberty is wanting. He is on guard. We crossed his path as we came
+into the camp."</p>
+
+<p>"On guard!" I said. "Is he? Why, he was on guard only a day or two
+ago. Does it come so often?"</p>
+
+<p>"It comes pretty often in Gary's case," said my companion.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it?" I said. "He does not like it."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mr. Thorold, merrily. "It is not a favourite amusement in
+most cases."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why does he have so much of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gary is not fond of discipline."</p>
+
+<p>I guessed this might be true. I knew enough of Preston for that. But
+it startled me.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he not obey the regulations?" I asked presently, in a lowered
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorold smiled. "He is a friend of yours, Miss Randolph?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said; "he is my mother's nephew."</p>
+
+<p>"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<!-- Page 345 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he is your cousin?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, he is my cousin."</p>
+
+<p>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?</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 excessive 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.</p>
+
+<p>"We did not see you at the hop the other night, Mr. Gary," Mrs.
+Sandford remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Were you there?" said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody was there&mdash;except you."</p>
+
+<p>"And Daisy? Were <i>you</i> there, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," Mrs. Sandford responded. "Everybody else could have been
+better missed."<!-- Page 346 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not wonder you are jealous," she said composedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jealous!" said Preston, with growl the second.</p>
+
+<p>"You had more reason than you knew."</p>
+
+<p>Preston grumbled something about the hops being "stupid places." I
+kept carefully still.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, did <i>you</i> go?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked up and said yes.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom did you dance with?"</p>
+
+<p>"With everybody," said Mrs. Sandford. "That is, so far as the length
+of the evening made it possible. Blue and grey, and all colours."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want you to dance with everybody," said Preston, in a more
+undertone growl.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no way to prevent it," said Mrs. Sandford, "but to be there
+and ask her yourself."</p>
+
+<p>I did not thank Mrs. Sandford privately for this suggestion; which
+Preston immediately followed up by inquiring "if we were going to the
+hop to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," Mrs. Sandford said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's too confounded hot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for us who are accustomed to the climate," Mrs. Sandford said,
+with spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a bore altogether," muttered Preston. "Daisy, are you going
+to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so."</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 347 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't you wish to dance with anybody except me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not," said Preston, slowly. "As I said, it is too hot. I
+consider the whole thing a bore."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come down and take a little walk with me."</p>
+
+<p>"You said it is too hot."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will dance?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not dance."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to speak to you, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>"You may speak," I said. I did not want to hear him, for there were no
+indications of anything agreeable in Preston's manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!" he said, "I do not know you."</p>
+
+<p>"You used to know her," said Mrs. Sandford; "that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come and walk with me?" said Preston, almost angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think it would be pleasant," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"You were walking yesterday afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Come and walk up and down the piazza, anyhow. You can do that."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom were you with?" Preston inquired, as soon as we were out of
+earshot.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean yesterday?"<!-- Page 348 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course I mean yesterday! I saw you cross into the camp With whom
+were you going there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not come to speak to me?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I was on duty. I could not."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not see you anywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"I was on guard. You crossed my path not ten feet off."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must know whom I was with, Preston," I said, looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> don't know&mdash;that is the thing. It was that fellow Thorold."</p>
+
+<p>"How came you to be on guard again so soon? You were on guard just a
+day or two before."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is <i>one</i>!" I said, laughing. "You say he is <i>another</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Blunt is one."</p>
+
+<p>"I like Major Blunt."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was introduced to me. What is the matter with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"You ought not to be going about with him. He is a regular Yankee, I
+tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"What does that mean?" I said. "You speak it as if you meant something
+very objectionable."</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>must</i> not dance with<!-- Page 349 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> them, and you must not be seen with
+this Thorold. Promise me you will not."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Sandford is another," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help Dr. Sandford. He is your guardian. You must not go again
+with Thorold!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever know <i>him</i> cowardly?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>I was sure that Preston coloured; whether with any feeling beside
+anger I could not make out; but the anger was certain.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know about it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you?" I rejoined. But Preston changed more and more.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Caxton is one," I said. "I don't like him."</p>
+
+<p>"He is of an excellent Georgia family," said Preston.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot help that. He is neither gentlemanly in his habits nor true
+in his speech."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I have asked you for this evening," he said, following me.</p>
+
+<p>"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 that I
+was just like a piece of marble; and went away. I did not feel quite
+so impassive as he said I looked.<!-- Page 350 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to wear to-night, Daisy?" Mrs. Sandford asked
+presently.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"But you must know soon, my dear. Have you agreed to give your cousin
+half the evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am&mdash;I could not; I am engaged for every dance, and more."</p>
+
+<p>"More!" said Mrs. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am&mdash;for the next time."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I shall be just as ready for them," I said.</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not wear the same thing twice running," she said, "not if
+you can help it."</p>
+
+<p>I could not imagine why not.</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite nice enough," I urged. "It is scarcely the least tumbled
+in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"People will think you have not another, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"What matter would that be?" I said, wholly puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my dear Daisy!" said Mrs. Sandford, half laughing&mdash;"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?"<!-- Page 351 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I had other dresses like the rejected one. I had another still, white
+like them, but the make and quality were different. 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.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do!" said Mrs. Sandford approvingly. "Dear me, what lace
+you Southern ladies do wear, to be sure! A blue sash, now, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am, I think not."</p>
+
+<p>"Rose? It must be blue or rose."</p>
+
+<p>But I thought differently, and kept it white.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>No</i> colour?" said Mrs. Sandford. "None at all. Then let me just put
+this little bit of green in your hair."</p>
+
+<p>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 commonize 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<!-- Page 352 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> handsomely dressed,
+but I could not change that now. Another time I would go back to my
+embroidered muslins, and stay there.</p>
+
+<p>"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 then we started.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, you dance with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am engaged, Preston, for the first dance."</p>
+
+<p>"Already! The second, then, and all the others?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am engaged," I repeated, and left him, for Mr. Thorold was at my
+side.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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, I believe there was a subtle incense
+of admiration which<!-- Page 353 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"You are dancing with nobody but that man whom I hate!" he grumbled.
+"Who is it now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Vaux."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you dance with me after that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot, Preston. I must dance with Major Banks."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to like it pretty well," he growled.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>At this instant a fresh party entered the room, just as my partner
+came up to claim me.</p>
+
+<p>"There are some handsome girls," said the captain. "Two of them,
+really!"</p>
+
+<p>"People from Cozzens's," said Mrs. Sandford, "who think the cadets
+keep New York hours."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Excessively handsome," whispered the captain. "A friend of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"A schoolfellow," I said.<!-- Page 354 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>I thought it was wonderful, too, when they were like him. But I said
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you notice the colour of the haze in the west, this evening, at
+sunset?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"It depends on who the soldier is," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Cool, really!" said the captain. "Cool! Ha! ha!&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And he laughed, till I wondered what I could have said to amuse him so
+much.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have learned to individualize 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.<!-- Page 355 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>dames d'honneur</i>. Who is next? Major
+Banks? Take care, Daisy, or you'll do some mischief."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;"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.<!-- Page 356 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>OBEYING ORDERS.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">AS I shared Mrs. Sandford's room, 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 fairylandlike and
+dreamy through golden mist.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good retiring place in any case, so early in the day.<!-- Page 357 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> 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 underbrush. 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 get
+on with my Bible at all. 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.<!-- Page 358 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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 of 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?&mdash;or <i>any</i> admiration? I liked to have Mr. Thorold like me; yes, I
+was not wrong to be pleased with that; besides, that was <i>liking</i>; not
+empty compliments. But for my lace and my India muslin and my
+"Southern elegance"&mdash;I knew Colonel Walrus meant me when he talked
+about that&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>I mounted the hill slowly and in a great maze, getting more<!-- Page 359 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> 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!</p>
+
+<p>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?</p>
+
+<p>I could not bear to think so, but the difficulty helped to prick my
+conscience. There had been only two hops, 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,&mdash;"The world knoweth us <i>not</i>."</p>
+
+<p>It must not know me, Daisy Randolph, as in any sort belonging to it or
+mixed up with it; and therefore&mdash;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.<!-- Page 360 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;I could take it as nothing else&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"You hinder pleasure when you go in that mood," I told him.</p>
+
+<p>"What mood?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know. You never are pleasant when Mr. Thorold is present or when
+he is mentioned."</p>
+
+<p>"He is a cowardly Yankee!" was Preston's rejoinder.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Cowardly</i>, Gary?"&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"Who was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No matter&mdash;impertinence!" he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"But what <i>is</i> the matter? and what did he mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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,<!-- Page 361 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> and I made no
+answer. Company, however, kept me from considering the matter all the
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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, <i>pro</i> or <i>con</i>; 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; then 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,&mdash;"Whatsoever ye do in
+word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus."</p>
+
+<p>There was no loophole here for excuses or getting off, "<i>Whatsoever ye
+do.</i>" 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<!-- Page 362 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> 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 could not go in the name of my Lord, for it would be to unfit
+myself for His work.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;the real honest pleasure, of the scene, and
+the music and the excitement and the dancing and the seeing
+people&mdash;all that I did not let go for ever without a hard time of
+sorrow and some tears. It was not a <i>struggle</i>, 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!</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 363 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do?" said he, stretching out his hand. I put mine in it.</p>
+
+<p>"What has become of my friend, this seven years?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am here&mdash;" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I see you. But why have I <i>not</i> seen you, all this while?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you have been busy," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;how many
+dances? Where have you been?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been at home."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I have given up going to the hops," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Given up? Do you mean, you <i>don't</i> mean, that you are never coming
+any more?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not coming any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you sometimes change your decisions?"<!-- Page 364 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I do," I answered; "but not this one."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>And he looked very serious indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!" I said. "I liked them very much&mdash;I enjoyed them very much. I
+am sorry to stay away."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will not stay away very long."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" he asked again, with a little sort of imperative curiosity
+which was somehow very pleasant to me.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"A Christian!" he cried, with flashes of light and shadow crossing his
+brow. "Is <i>that</i> it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is it," I assented.</p>
+
+<p>"But my dear Miss Randolph&mdash;you know we are friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, smiling, and glad that he had not forgotten it.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we may talk about what we like. Christians go to hops."</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him without answering.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know they do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose they may&mdash;" I answered, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"But they <i>do</i>. There was our former colonel's wife&mdash;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'
+sisters&mdash;those pretty girls&mdash;they are always there; and it is the same
+with visitors. Everybody comes; their being Christians does not make
+any difference."<!-- Page 365 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Captain Thorold," said I&mdash;"I mean Mr. Thorold, don't you obey your
+orders?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;general," he said. And he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"So must I."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not a soldier."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I am."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got orders not to come to our hop?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have. You will not understand me, but this is what I mean,
+Mr. Thorold. I <i>am</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would show those orders to me."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see the orders," he said.</p>
+
+<p>I was silent. I had not expected he would.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"A soldier!" said he, again. "You? Have you ever been under fire?"</p>
+
+<p>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 weak<!-- Page 366 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>ness, 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see it all in your face," he said, tenderly: "the strength and
+the truth to do anything, and bear&mdash;whatever is necessary. But I am
+not so good as you. I cannot bear anything unless it <i>is</i> necessary;
+and this isn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, nor I!" I said; "but this is necessary, Mr. Thorold."</p>
+
+<p>"Prove it&mdash;come."</p>
+
+<p>"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.'"</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;not to work."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but a soldier of Christ is never 'off duty,'" I said. "See, Mr.
+Thorold&mdash;<i>'whatsoever</i> ye do'&mdash;'whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever
+ye do.' That covers all; don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"That would make it a very heavy thing to be a Christian," he said;
+"there would be no liberty at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but it is all liberty!" I said,&mdash;"When you love Jesus."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me so inquiringly, so inquisitively, that I went on.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not think it hard to do things for anybody you love?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said he. "I would like to do things for you."</p>
+
+<p>I remember I smiled at that, for it seemed to me very pleasant to hear
+him say it; but I went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you understand it, Mr. Thorold."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said he, "I do not understand it; for there is this difficulty.
+I do not see what in the world such an innocent amuse<!-- Page 367 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>ment 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,&mdash;that is young enough;
+and some that aren't."</p>
+
+<p>It was very hard to explain.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose they disobey orders," I said slowly;&mdash;"that would be another
+reason why I should obey them."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. But do they?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I came down here on purpose to persuade you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>It was not necessary to answer that, otherwise than by a look.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;you will go up to the hotel as good a crystal as when you
+came down."</p>
+
+<p>This made me laugh, and we had a good laugh together, holding each
+other's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't you?" I said. "Oh, then, go, go directly, Mr. Thorold!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I had come to my place rather sober and sorrowful; and what<!-- Page 368 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> 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 baulked 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"From my study," I said. "I have a nice place down by the river which
+is my study."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather a public situation for a private withdrawing place," said the
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!" said I. "At this hour&mdash;" But there I stopped and began again.
+"It is really very private. And it is the pleasantest study place I
+think I ever had."</p>
+
+<p>"To study what?"</p>
+
+<p>I held up my book.</p>
+
+<p>"It agrees with you," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said I, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!" said Dr. Sandford&mdash;"I left a quiet bud of a flower a few days
+ago&mdash;a little demure bit of a schoolgirl, learning<!-- Page 369 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> 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?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," said I, thinking I had better be demure again. "She
+took me to the hop."</p>
+
+<p>"The hop?&mdash;how did you like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I liked it very much."</p>
+
+<p>"You did? You liked it? I did not know that you would go, with your
+peculiar notions."</p>
+
+<p>"I went," I said; "I did not know what it was. How could I help liking
+it? But I am not going again."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, if you like it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going again," I repeated. "Shall we have a walk to the hills
+to-day, Dr. Sandford?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;it was
+very odd&mdash;but I thought he was <i>jealous</i>; 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.</p>
+
+<p>Our life went on now as it had done at our first coming.<!-- Page 370 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> 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
+guardmounting and 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 long walk up to 'Number Four'&mdash;do you like hills?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then let us go up there Saturday&mdash;will you?"</p>
+
+<p>And when Saturday came, we went. Preston luckily was not there; 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 civilization and the world behind us, and plunged
+into a wild<!-- Page 371 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Do people come here to walk much?" I asked, as we slowly made our way
+up.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody comes here&mdash;for anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody <i>goes</i> here," I said. "This is a beaten path."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there is a poor woodcutter's family at the top; they do travel up
+and down occasionally."</p>
+
+<p>"It is pretty," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is pretty at the top; but we are a long way from that. Is it too
+rough for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," I said. "I like it."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a good walker for a Southern girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I have lived at the North; I am only Southern born."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you can explain it all to me," said Thorold, as he threw himself
+down. "You have walked too fast. You are warm."</p>
+
+<p>"And you do not look as if it was warm at all."</p>
+
+<p>"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."<!-- Page 372 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"About what, Mr. Thorold?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;if you will excuse me&mdash;about you," he said, with a very
+pleasant look, frank and soft at once.</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite ready to explain myself. But I am afraid, when I have done
+it, that you will not understand me, Mr. Thorold."</p>
+
+<p>"Think I cannot?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid not&mdash;without knowing what I know."</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;that is clear."</p>
+
+<p>"But the difficulty is, I cannot give you my point of view."</p>
+
+<p>"Please try," said Thorold, contentedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Thorold, I told you, I am a soldier."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, looking up at me, and little sparkles of light seeming
+to come out of his hazel eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I showed you my orders."</p>
+
+<p>"But I did not understand them to be what you said."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But this is not such a case?" said Thorold.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Miss Randolph!" said Thorold, a little impatiently, "do these
+little dances unfit you for duty?"<!-- Page 373 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "And put me off my watch."</p>
+
+<p>"Your watch against what? Oh, pardon me, and <i>please</i> enlighten me. I
+do not mean to be impertinent."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean my watch for orders&mdash;my watch against evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you explain?" said Thorold, gently and impatiently at once.
+"What sort of evil can <i>you</i> possibly fear, in connection with such an
+innocent recreation? What 'orders' are you expecting?"</p>
+
+<p>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?</p>
+
+<p>"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
+dance. I dare say they are something that belongs especially to a
+woman, and that a man would not know them."</p>
+
+<p>Thorold turned on me again a wonderfully gentle look, for a gay, fiery
+young Vermonter, as I knew him to be.</p>
+
+<p>"It wanted only that!" he said. "And the orders, Miss Randolph&mdash;what
+'orders' are you expecting? You said orders."</p>
+
+<p>"Orders may be given by a sign," I said. "They need not be in words."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled. "I see, you have studied the subject."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean, only, that whenever a duty is plainly put before
+me&mdash;something given me to do&mdash;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&mdash;If I did
+not keep a good watch, I should be sure to miss the sign sometimes,
+don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"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 Capt. Percival, but<!-- Page 374 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> folded
+manfully. He had been watching me very intently; now he stood as
+intently looking off over the farther 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.</p>
+
+<p>He turned round at last, and smiled down at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you rested?"</p>
+
+<p>"O yes!" I said, rising. "I was not fatigued."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you tired talking?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not at all. Have I talked so very much?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed at that, but went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be out of patience with my stupidity?"</p>
+
+<p>I said no.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I am not fully enlightened yet. I want to ask further
+questions; and asking questions is very impertinent."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if you have leave," I said. "Ask what you like."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid, nevertheless. But I can never know, if I do not ask. How
+is it&mdash;this is what puzzles me&mdash;that other people who call themselves
+Christians do not think as you do about this matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Soldiership?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes. It comes to that, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"You know what soldiership ought to be," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"But one little soldier cannot be all the rank and file of this army?"
+he said, looking down at me.</p>
+
+<p>"O no!" I said, laughing&mdash;"there are a great many more<!-- Page 375 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span>&mdash;there are a
+great many more&mdash;only you do not happen to see them."</p>
+
+<p>"And these others, that I do see, are not soldiers, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>He was silent a while, as we mounted the hill; then he continued&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"But it makes religion a slavery&mdash;a bondage&mdash;to be <i>all</i> the while
+under arms, on guard, watching orders. <i>Always</i> on the watch and
+expecting to be under fire&mdash;it is too much; it would make a gloomy,
+ugly life of it."</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose you <i>are</i> under fire?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said he, looking and laughing again.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"But what a life!" said Thorold.</p>
+
+<p>"If you love your Captain?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped and looked at me with one of the keenest looks of scrutiny
+I ever met. It seemed to scrutinize 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is an incongruity, now I think of it," said he, smiling. "How is
+it that you be on such good terms with a rebel? Ought you to have
+anything to do with me?"<!-- Page 376 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;You know what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"When they are assembled for doubtful purposes."</p>
+
+<p>"Or gathered in a place where the wrong colours are displayed," I
+added. "I must not go there."</p>
+
+<p>"There was no false banner hung out on the Academic Building the other
+night," he said humorously.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"How was it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot understand me and you may laugh at me," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why may I not understand you?" he asked deferentially.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But are they compromised?" he asked. "That is the thing. You see, I
+want you back at the hop."</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to come," said I; "but I must not."</p>
+
+<p>"On the ground&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you, Mr. Thorold. I do not find that my orders allow me to go.
+I must do nothing that I cannot do in my King's name."</p>
+
+<p>"That is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As His servant&mdash;on His errands&mdash;following where He leads me."<!-- Page 377 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I never heard it put so before," said Thorold. "It bears the stamp of
+perfection&mdash;only an impossible perfection."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"To ordinary mortals," he rejoined, with one of his quick, brilliant
+flashes of the eye. Then, as it softened and changed again&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Randolph, permit me to ask one question&mdash;Are you happy?"</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>this</i> 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, overnight; 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<!-- Page 378 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> 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. I remember the cool, bright freshness of the
+light, and its brilliant gleam in the distance after it had left the
+hillside. I have an impression of the calm clear beauty that was
+underfoot 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Was that anybody I knew?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 379 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>SOUTH AND NORTH.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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.</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 380 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> could not do it;
+and this was a constant subject of regret to me.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you hope will be elected?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And who is that?" I asked. "You do not want slavery to be allowed in
+the territories?"<!-- Page 381 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Lincoln is elected," whispered one of the girls to another.</p>
+
+<p>"Who cares?" the other said aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"What if he is?" asked a third.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said a gentle, graceful-looking girl, spreading her embroidery
+out on her lap with her slim white fingers&mdash;"<i>then</i> there'll be
+fighting."</p>
+
+<p>It was given, this announcement, with the coolest matter-of-fact
+assurance.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is going to fight?" was the next question.</p>
+
+<p>The former speaker gave a glance up to see if her audience was safe,
+and then replied, as coolly as before,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My brother, for one."</p>
+
+<p>"What for, Sally?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think we are going to have these vulgar Northerners rule over
+<i>us</i>? 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy Randolph&mdash;you are a Southerner," said one of the girls.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, she is a Southerner," said Sally, going on with her
+embroidery. "She is safe."<!-- Page 382 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>I began to study the daily news more constantly and carefully. I had
+still the liberty of Madame'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 my mind very
+violent and very wrong-headed; at the same time, I knew that my mother
+would endorse and Preston 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 conversa<!-- Page 383 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>tion 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 Madame 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 father and mother, Aunt Gary and Preston, and others,
+told me more. I began to pray that God would not let war come upon the
+land.</p>
+
+<p>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, <i>Star of the West</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you so," said Sally.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>they</i> have begun it," said Macy, who was a native of New York.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. What business had the <i>Star of the West</i> to be carrying
+those troops there? South Carolina can take care of her own forts."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy Randolph, you look as solemn as a preacher," said another.
+"Which side are you on?"<!-- Page 384 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She is on the right side," said another.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Sally. "She is the daughter of a Southern
+gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not on the side of those who fire the first shot," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But what will be the end of it?" said another.</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! It will end like smoke. The Yankees do not like fighting&mdash;they
+would rather be excused, if you please. Their <i>forte</i> is quite in
+another line&mdash;out of the way of powder."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, my dear," she said, "what they may be left to do.
+They're just daft, down there; clean daft."</p>
+
+<p>"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?</p>
+
+<p>"Aye, just that," she replied; "and fighting between the two parts of
+one land is just the worst fighting there can be. Pray it may not
+come, Daisy; but those people are quite daft."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 385 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I was very glad; yet I was not all glad. I wished they had been able
+to come to me. 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 organized.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>he</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"It's beyond <i>me</i>, 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."</p>
+
+<p>"When is he coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"They say to-day," said Miss Cardigan. "There'll be an uncommon crowd,
+but I'll risk it."</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 386 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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; there 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
+<i>material</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon's a mon!" quoth Miss Cardigan, speaking, as she did in moments of
+strong feeling, with a little reminder of her Scottish origin.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you like him?" I rejoined.<!-- Page 387 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Major Anderson must defend his fort," I said. "That is his
+duty."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"There'll be many a sore heart in the country if this goes on," she
+said, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"But it will not go on, will it?" I asked. "They cannot take Fort
+Sumter; do you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>And the next night the little news-boys in the streets were crying out
+the "Fall of Fort Sum&mdash;ter!" It rang ominously in<!-- Page 388 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> 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 <i>their</i> cause was
+the cause of right, and justice, and humanity; but the right does
+<i>not</i> 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?</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy don't care."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I care," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"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!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see anything glorious in fighting," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Not when you are attacked?"</p>
+
+<p>"We were not attacked," I said. "South Carolina fired the first guns."</p>
+
+<p>"Good for her!" said Sally. "Brave little South Carolina!<!-- Page 389 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> Nobody will
+meddle with her and come off without cutting his fingers."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody did meddle with her," I asserted. "It was <i>she</i> who meddled,
+to break the laws and fight against the government."</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>gentlemen</i> are going to live under a
+rail-splitter for a President? and take orders from him?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by a 'rail-splitter'?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But if he is President, he is President," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"For those that like him. <i>We</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I think you are a traitor," I said.</p>
+
+<p>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 the 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<!-- Page 390 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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. Géneviève, 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
+schoolfellows; 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<!-- Page 391 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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 pre-occupation. 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<!-- Page 392 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>ENTERED FOR THE WAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="cap">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. Géneviève gave me leave gladly.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;ce
+bon Monsieur le docteur&mdash;will scold us all by and by. Go, and do not
+study."</p>
+
+<p>But I determined to have my play and my study too.</p>
+
+<p>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
+had found my books, and<!-- Page 393 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> had thrown myself down on the floor with one,
+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 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.</p>
+
+<p>"And you haven't gone and fallen in love, callant, meanwhile, just to
+complicate affairs?" said the voice of Miss Cardigan.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never fall in love," said Thorold, with (I suppose) mock
+gravity. His voice sounded so.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I require too much."</p>
+
+<p>"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 that you have thought about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought, till I have got it all by heart," said Thorold. "The
+worst is, I shall never find it in this world."</p>
+
+<p>"That's likely. Come, lad, paint your picture, and I'll tell you if
+<i>I</i> know where to look," said Miss Cardigan.<!-- Page 394 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And then you'll search for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dinna ken if you deserve it," said Miss Cardigan.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't deserve it, of course," said Thorold. "Well&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard that your Vermont lakes were <i>grey</i>," said Miss
+Cardigan.</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>does</i> show itself
+there, it is the very heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope that 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."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?&mdash;Why, boy!"&mdash;cried Miss Cardigan.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know anybody like it?" said Thorold, laughing. "If you do, you
+are bound to let me know where, you understand."</p>
+
+<p>"What lies between the eyes and mouth?" said Miss Cardigan. "There
+goes more to a picture."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Character&mdash;<i>that</i> shows in the mouth," said Miss Cardigan, slowly.<!-- Page 395 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>Thorold laughed his gay laugh. "The pine-tree will do excellently,
+Aunt Catherine," he said. "No better embodiment of stately grace could
+be found."</p>
+
+<p>My ears tingled. "Aunt Catherine?" <i>Aunt!</i> 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 in 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 were 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?"&mdash;in a very quiet kind of a voice; for I did not
+now expect him to be very glad. But I was sur<!-- Page 396 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>prised 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!" he exclaimed. "Miss Randolph!"</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!" echoed Miss Cardigan. "My dear&mdash;do you two know each other?
+Where did you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>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, looking at me (I thought afterwards, I
+only felt at the moment), as if I had been some precious wonder; the
+Koh-i-noor diamond, or anything of that sort.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you come from?" was his first question.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite true, Daisy," said Miss Cardigan; "it is somebody on
+business."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing private about it, though," said Thorold, smiling at me. "But
+where in the world did you and Aunt Catherine come together?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I know this one, though," said Thorold. "Miss Randolph&mdash;won't you
+speak? for Aunt Catherine is in no mood to tell me&mdash;have you two known
+each other long?"</p>
+
+<p>"It seems long," I said. "It is not very long."<!-- Page 397 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Since last summer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly!"</p>
+
+<p>"If that's the date of <i>your</i> acquaintanceship," said Miss Cardigan,
+"we're auld friends to that. Is all well, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p><i>I</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 from me and had bent them upon the
+fire, all merriment gone out of his face, too. It was thoroughly
+grave.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do, Mr. Thorold?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, my heart sinking.</p>
+
+<p>"The time has come," he said, facing round upon me.</p>
+
+<p>"And you&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be on my way to Washington in a few days. Men are wanted
+now&mdash;all the men that have any knowledge to be useful. I may not be
+very useful. But I am going to try."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought"&mdash;it was not quite easy to speak, for I was struggling with
+something which threatened to roughen my voice&mdash;"I thought you did not
+graduate till June?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not regularly; not usually; but things are extraordinary this year.
+We graduate and go on to Washington at once."<!-- Page 398 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I believe we were all silent a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy," said Miss Cardigan, "you have nobody that is dear to <i>you</i>
+likely to be engaged in the fray&mdash;if there is one?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;" I said, rather faintly. I remember I said it; I
+cannot tell why, for I <i>did</i> 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&mdash;and sickness&mdash;and the battlefield&mdash;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<!-- Page 399 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> Thorold's face that night
+besides 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Sit there, Christian."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"That is my name, Miss Randolph," he said, "the name given me by my
+parents."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll earn it yet, boy," said Miss Cardigan. "But the sooner the
+better."</p>
+
+<p>There was after that a very deep gravity upon us all for the first
+minutes at the 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<!-- Page 400 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"And how soon, lad," Miss Cardigan broke out suddenly, when a moment's
+lull in the talk had given her a chance, "how soon<!-- Page 401 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> will ye be off to
+that region of disturbance whither ye are going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Washington?" said Thorold. "Just as soon as our examination can be
+pushed through; in a very few days now."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll come to me by the way, for another look at you, in your
+officer's uniform?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"How came you to be here now, if you are in such a hurry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing on earth would have brought me, but the thing that did bring
+me," said Thorold. "I was subp&oelig;naed down, to give my evidence in a
+trial. I must get back again without loss of a minute; should have
+gone to-night, if there had been a train that stopped. I am very glad
+there was no train that stopped!"</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 402 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I assented.</p>
+
+<p>"The North does not wish for war. The South have brought it upon
+themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said again, wondering a little what was coming.</p>
+
+<p>"However disagreeable my duty may be, it is my duty; and there is no
+shirking it."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "Of course."</p>
+
+<p>"And if your friends are on one side and I on the other,&mdash;it is not my
+fault, Miss Randolph."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said; "not at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you do not blame me for taking the part I <i>must</i> take?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "You must take it."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sorry I take it?" said Thorold with a change of tone, and
+coming a step nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"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.<!-- Page 403 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?&mdash;Is it&mdash;O Daisy, I love
+you better than anything else in the world, except my duty! Daisy, do
+you love me?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Look up, darling," he said; "look up, Daisy! let me see your face.
+Look up, Daisy&mdash;we have only a minute, and everything in the world to
+say to each other. Daisy&mdash;I want to see you."<!-- Page 404 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do with yourself now?" he said softly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going on with my studies for another month or two."</p>
+
+<p>"And you belong to me, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>guardian</i>; 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. Alto<!-- Page 405 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>gether 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.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will write to me?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;after my duty; you
+may dispose of me, pretty one, just as you like. <i>You</i> would not have
+that put second, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Christian," I whispered, "won't you earn your right to your name?"</p>
+
+<p>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 a 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.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, Aunt Catherine," Thorold said, as she paused at<!-- Page 406 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> the
+door,&mdash;"come in, come in, and kiss her&mdash;this little darling is mine."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cardigan came in slowly. I could not look up.</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss her, Aunt Catherine," he repeated; "she is mine."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I have kissed Daisy very often before now," said Miss Cardigan. I
+thought I discerned some concern in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Then come, do it again," said Thorold, laughing. "You never kissed
+her as anything belonging to me, Aunt Catherine."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Aunt Catherine," he said, pulling up a comfortable arm chair to
+the corner of the hearth, "sit there. And Daisy&mdash;come here!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary," said Thorold, "I was always of a very contented
+disposition."</p>
+
+<p>"Contented with your own will, then," said his aunt. "And now, do you
+mean to tell me that you have got this prize&mdash;this prize&mdash;it's a first
+class, Christian&mdash;for good and for certain to yourself?"<!-- Page 407 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I lifted my eyes one instant, to see the sparkles in Thorold's eyes;
+they were worth seeing.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think you deserve it?" Miss Cardigan went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think I deserve it," said Thorold. "But I think I will."</p>
+
+<p>"I know what that means," said his aunt. "You will get worldly
+glory&mdash;just a bit or two more of gold on your coat&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>all</i> is owing, less will not be overpay. But whatever
+do you think her father will say to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"And what are you going to do now in Washington?" said his aunt. "You
+may as well sit down and tell us."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is he going to do with these seventy-five thousand men,
+Christian?"<!-- Page 408 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Put down treason, if he can. Don't you realize 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."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is it that <i>they</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"They will try to defy the laws," said Thorold. "We will try to see
+them executed."</p>
+
+<p>"They seem very fierce," said Miss Cardigan; "to judge by what they
+say."</p>
+
+<p>"And do," added Thorold. "I think there is a sort of madness in
+Southern blood."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, lad! ye're confident, surely, to venture your opinions so
+plainly and so soon!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is <i>true</i>, 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 being pleasant; mine seemed to be
+devoured by somebody else.<!-- Page 409 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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 a 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."</p>
+
+<p>I had never seen Thorold laugh as he did then. And he asked his aunt
+"where she had seen that extract?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was in one of the papers&mdash;it was in an extract itself, I'm
+thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"From a Southern paper," said Thorold.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I believe it was."</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen extracts, too," said Thorold. "They say, Alexander H.
+Stephens is counselling the rebels to lay hold on Washington."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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<!-- Page 410 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"And where is Preston?" said I, speaking for the first time in a long
+while.</p>
+
+<p>"Preston?" echoed Thorold.</p>
+
+<p>"My Cousin Preston&mdash;Gary; your classmate Gary."</p>
+
+<p>"Gary! Oh, he is going to Washington, like the rest of us."</p>
+
+<p>"Which side will he take?"</p>
+
+<p>"You should know, perhaps, better than I," said Thorold. "He always
+<i>has</i> taken the Southern side, and very exclusively."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Has</i> taken?" said I. "Do you mean that among the cadets there has
+been a South and a North&mdash;until now, lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aye, 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."</p>
+
+<p>"Split!" I repeated.<!-- Page 411 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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 <i>he</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"My gentle little Daisy!" he said. "I will never quarrel with him
+again&mdash;if I can help it."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>must</i> quarrel with him, if he is on the wrong side," I answered.
+"And so must I."</p>
+
+<p>"You say you must go immediately back to West Point," said Miss
+Cardigan. "Leave thanking Daisy's hand, and tell me <i>when</i> you are
+going; for the night is far past, children."</p>
+
+<p>"I am gone when I bid you good-night," said Thorold. "I must set out
+with the dawn&mdash;to catch the train I must take."</p>
+
+<p>"With the dawn!&mdash;<i>this</i> morning!" cried Miss Cardigan.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. I should be there this minute, if the colonel had not
+given me something to do here that kept me."</p>
+
+<p>"And when will ye do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do it! It is done," said Thorold; "before I came here. But I must
+catch the first train in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll want some breakfast before that," she said, rising.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shall not," said Thorold, catching hold of her. "I want
+nothing. I <i>did</i> want my supper. Sit down, Aunt Catherine, and be
+quiet. I want nothing, I tell you, but more time."</p>
+
+<p>"We may as well sit up the rest of the night," I said; "it is so far
+gone now."<!-- Page 412 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and what will you be good for to-morrow?" said Miss Cardigan.
+"You must lie down and take a bit of rest."</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;and himself&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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 as I took the bearings of my
+present position I became calm.</p>
+
+<p>I rose up the moment the two hours were over, for I could bear<!-- Page 413 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> the
+silence no longer, nor the losing any more time. Thorold stopped his
+walk then, and we had along 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 breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"You know," I said, "I am going to study as hard as I can for a month
+or two more,&mdash;till my school closes."</p>
+
+<p>"What then, Daisy? Perhaps you will find some way to come on and see
+me at Washington&mdash;if the rebels don't take it first?"</p>
+
+<p>It must be told.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I cannot.&mdash;My father and mother wish me to go out to them as soon
+as I get a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"In Switzerland."</p>
+
+<p>"Switzerland! To stay how long?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;till the war is over, I suppose. I do not think they
+would come back before."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall come and fetch you then, Daisy."</p>
+
+<p>But it seemed a long way off. And how much might be between. We were
+both silent.</p>
+
+<p>"That is heavy for me," said Thorold at last. "Little Daisy, you do
+not know how heavy!"</p>
+
+<p>He was caressing my hair, smoothing and stroking it as he spoke. I
+looked up and his eyes flashed fire instantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Say that in words!" he exclaimed, taking me in his arms. "Say it,
+Daisy! say it. It will be worth so much to me."</p>
+
+<p>But my lips had hardly a chance to speak.<!-- Page 414 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Say what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, you <i>have</i> said it. Put it in words, that is all."</p>
+
+<p>But his eyes were so full of flashing triumph that I thought he had
+got enough for the time.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy, those eyes of yours are like mountain lakes, deep and still.
+But when I look quite down to the bottom of them&mdash;sometimes I see
+something&mdash;I thought I did then."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" I asked, very much amused.</p>
+
+<p>"I see it there now, Daisy!"</p>
+
+<p>I was afraid he did, for <i>his</i> 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 that I was ashamed to do. 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 <i>me</i>, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know," said I, still keeping my eyes veiled, "you have me at
+advantage. If you were not going&mdash;away&mdash;so soon, I would not do a
+great many things."</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy!" said he, laughing&mdash;"Daisy!"&mdash;And he touched my cheek as one
+who meant to keep his advantage. Then his voice changed, and he
+repeated, with a deeper and deepening tone with each word&mdash;"Daisy! my
+Daisy!"</p>
+
+<p>I had very nearly burst out into great sobs upon his breast,<!-- Page 415 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>I do not know what Thorold thought, but he was as still for a while as
+I was.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!" I said, lifting my head; "Oh no, Christian!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why no?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to have a better watchword and follow a better light. Not
+me. O Christian, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"What shall my watchword be?" said he, looking into my eyes. But I was
+intent on something else then. I answered, "Whatsoever ye do, do all
+in the name of the Lord Jesus."</p>
+
+<p>"A soldier, Daisy?"</p>
+
+<p>"A soldier more than anybody," I said; "for He calls us to be
+soldiers, and you know what it means."</p>
+
+<p>"But you forget," said he, not taking his eyes from my face<!-- Page 416 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span>&mdash;"in my
+service I must obey as well as command: I am not my own master
+exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Let Christ be your Master," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"How then with this other service?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why it is very plain," I said. "Command in the love of God and obey
+in the fear of God; that covers all."</p>
+
+<p>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, and I saw Miss Cardigan enter.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;I don't know what beside&mdash;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 roughness of the shore&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>And then came the parting. That was short.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE END.<br /><br /><br /></h3>
+
+<div class="bbox">
+
+<h2>Transcriber's Notes</h2>
+
+<p class="center">The following items were considered to be typographical errors and
+have been changed.<br /> Other typographic, spelling, punctuation errors and
+parochial speech has been left as they appear in the book.</p>
+
+<dl>
+<dt><a href="#Page_17">Page 17</a></dt><dd>Changed period into comma after the word "too" in the
+sentence</dd><dd>"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_37">Page 37</a></dt><dd>Corrected "awkward" from "awkard" in the sentence</dd><dd>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.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_40">Page 40</a></dt><dd>Changed question mark to period and deleted quotation mark in
+the sentence</dd><dd>I asked what they all were."</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_51">Page 51</a></dt><dd>Changed single quote to double quote after "light" in the
+sentence</dd><dd>"They must be very dark if they could not understand light,"
+said my governess.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_56">Page 56</a></dt><dd>Removed superfluous "n" from governess in </dd><dd>Then I remembered
+that my governess probably did care for some fruit</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_87">Page 87</a></dt><dd>Corrected "string" to read "sting" in the sentence</dd><dd>It has a
+sting of its own, for which there is neither salve nor remedy; and it
+had the aggravation, in my case, of the sense of personal dishonour.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_91">Page 91</a></dt><dd>Added apostrophe to "girls" in the sentence</dd><dd>I have a
+recollection of the girl's terrified face, but I heard nothing more.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_93">Page 93</a></dt><dd>removed " from the start of the sentence</dd><dd>They had been gone
+half an hour, when Preston stole in and came to the side of my bed,
+between me and the firelight.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_97">Page 97</a></dt><dd>Added " after Melbourne in the sentence</dd><dd>"We shall have to
+let her do just as they did at Melbourne," said my aunt.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_110">Page 110</a></dt><dd>Added " after the word "by" in the sentence</dd><dd>"Mass' Preston
+come last night," she went on; "so I reckon Miss Daisy'll want to wear
+it by and by."</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_163">Page 163</a></dt><dd>Changed period to ? in the sentence</dd><dd>"Will that distress you
+very much?"</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_178">Page 178</a></dt><dd>Changed Mr. to Dr. in the sentence</dd><dd>"But, Dr.
+Sandford," I said, "nobody can belong to anybody&mdash;in that way."</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_193">Page 193</a></dt><dd>Changed 'be' to 'he' in the sentence starting</dd><dd>I believe I
+half wished be would make some objection;</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_206">Page 206</a></dt><dd>Added "le" to "aves" to make "leaves" in</dd><dd>"You wouldn't say
+so, if you knew the work it is to set those leaves round," said the
+mantua-maker.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_240">Page 240</a></dt><dd>Changed "for" into "far" in</dd><dd>but I am afraid the rule of the
+Good Samaritan would put us far apart.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_249">Page 249</a></dt><dd>Changed exclamation mark to question mark in</dd><dd>"Is there so
+much trouble everywhere in the world?"</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_250">Page 250</a></dt><dd>Changed "I" to "It" in</dd><dd>It was a good photograph, and had
+beauty enough besides to hold my eyes.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_257">Page 257</a></dt><dd>Capitalised "W" in</dd><dd>Is it Daisy Randolph? What have you done
+to yourself?</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_266">Page 266</a></dt><dd> changed beside to bedside in</dd><dd>I heard no sound while I was
+undressing, nor while I knelt, as usual now, by my bedside.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_283">Page 283</a></dt><dd>Changed rapidily to rapidly in</dd><dd>I watched him rapidly
+walking into the library;</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_285">Page 285</a></dt><dd>Added question mark instead of period to</dd><dd>"Are you tired?"</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_316">Page 316</a></dt><dd>Changed inmediately to immediately in</dd><dd>and placed himself
+immediately beside his summoner,</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_349">Page 349</a></dt><dd>Changed "not" to "nor" in</dd><dd>"I cannot help that. He is
+neither gentlemanly in his habits nor true in his speech."</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_350">Page 350</a></dt><dd>Added comma after "said" in</dd><dd>"You must not wear the same
+thing twice running," she said, "not if you can help it."</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_355">Page 355</a></dt><dd>Changed period to question mark after "next" in</dd><dd>Who is
+next? Major Banks? Take care, Daisy, or you'll do some mischief."</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_374">Page 374</a></dt><dd>Deleted comma after "see" in</dd><dd>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.</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_386">Page 386</a></dt><dd>Changed subtance to substance in</dd><dd>men of business, men of
+character and some substance,</dd>
+
+<dt><a href="#Page_407">Page 407</a></dt><dd>Changed "weel" to "well" in</dd><dd>"You may as well sit down and
+tell us."</dd>
+</dl>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy, by Elizabeth Wetherell
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+</body>
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@@ -0,0 +1,14635 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy, by Elizabeth Wetherell
+
+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: January 31, 2009 [EBook #27949]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Jen Haines and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    DAISY.
+
+    BY
+    ELIZABETH WETHERELL,
+
+
+    AUTHOR OF
+    "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," "QUEECHY,"
+    ETC., ETC.
+
+    [Illustration: Floral Squiggle]
+
+    LONDON:
+
+    WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED,
+    WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
+    NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE.
+
+    [Illustration: Frontis "'And you love Jesus, Darry,' I said."
+     _Page 59_ ]
+
+    CONTENTS.
+
+                               PAGE
+    CHAPTER I.
+    MISS PINSHON                  9
+
+    CHAPTER II.
+    MY HOME                      27
+
+    CHAPTER III.
+    THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE     45
+
+    CHAPTER IV.
+    SEVEN HUNDRED PEOPLE         68
+
+    CHAPTER V.
+    IN THE KITCHEN               97
+
+    CHAPTER VI.
+    WINTER AND SUMMER           119
+
+    CHAPTER VII.
+    SINGLEHANDED                149
+
+    CHAPTER VIII.
+    EGYPTIAN GLASS              165
+
+    CHAPTER IX.
+    SHOPPING                    185
+
+    CHAPTER X.
+    SCHOOL                      205
+
+    CHAPTER XI.
+    A PLACE IN THE WORLD        226
+
+    CHAPTER XII.
+    FRENCH DRESSES              244
+
+    CHAPTER XIII.
+    GREY COATS                  275
+
+    CHAPTER XIV.
+    YANKEES                     297
+
+    CHAPTER XV.
+    FORT PUTNAM                 320
+
+    CHAPTER XVI.
+    HOPS                        338
+
+    CHAPTER XVII.
+    OBEYING ORDERS              356
+
+    CHAPTER XVIII.
+    SOUTH AND NORTH             379
+
+    CHAPTER XIX.
+    ENTERED FOR THE WAR         392
+
+
+
+
+DAISY.
+
+
+
+
+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 sunlit 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 that 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
+that 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. 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 stayed 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 long endure 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
+school-mistress?
+
+"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 a
+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 poetic 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."
+
+"O 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. Ribbons 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! O 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."
+
+"O 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 won't 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 had purposed; and after the rose he
+ordered candied fruits; till a great packet 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 recognize 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 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 in 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 forest. 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 horehound 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 year 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 farthest 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 play-ground 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 usher 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 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 upstairs 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! Miss '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 upstairs 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 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 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 swart 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 be 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 on 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? O 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 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. 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 no 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 downstairs 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 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
+nightgown 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.
+
+"Ain't 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.
+
+"Ain't 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 carefully 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; ain't 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 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 downstairs. 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 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 seemed 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 back 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 bookcases; a large escritoire; a
+terrestrial globe; a thermometer and a 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 handing 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's 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; 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 aroused
+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 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 stayed 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, and all these people were without what was the
+jewel of my life. And they my mother's servants! my father's
+dependants! 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 upon 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 ain't 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 Sadler 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 learning. Dey no read, sure."
+
+"Do you read the Bible to them, Darry?"
+
+"Miss Daisy knows, dere ain't no great time. Dey's in the 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'thing. 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 his 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 work-people 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 the 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 to 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 the 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
+that 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 drew 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. 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 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 upstairs
+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 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 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 downstairs, 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 heard 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 window-sill
+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,
+heartbreaking 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 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' ain't no good for servants. Seems
+like Miss Daisy ain't 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 ain't a heap better that knows the Bible," said the
+girl. "'Pears as if it don't make no difference. Ain't 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 downstairs. 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 home, 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."
+
+"Knocked 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 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 here. 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 nonsense," 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 as we like with. Didn't you know that?"
+
+"Property is something that you can buy and sell," I answered.
+
+"And we sell the 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 to me, seeking every refuge from accepting it. "Who sold
+them 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 gave
+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."
+
+"That 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 'like' 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 rested, 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 could 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 be, 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 among the fumes and
+vapours that 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 in 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 of 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, 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 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 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 made 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 of
+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?"
+
+"'Tain't 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
+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; 'tain't 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 nothing 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
+inquiry: "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 done on dis plantation, and he wouldn't have no such work.
+He say, der'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 this
+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 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 looked at me
+well.
+
+"I shall send for the 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 immovable
+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 were 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 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 ain't no great doings, Miss Daisy. The people gets four days,
+most of 'em."
+
+"Four days--for what?"
+
+"For what they like; they don't do no work, those days."
+
+"And is that all?"
+
+"No, Miss Daisy, 'tain't 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 on 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 me, 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
+upstairs. 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 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 door; 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 upstairs; 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 hain't forgot how to make
+it--'spect she hain't, 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 upstairs with
+a tray and 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 hain't 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's we's all willin' to gib de Lord t'anks for His goodness.
+Dere ain't 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 the 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 in the world, I suppose, could have given me such
+deep gratification at the moment. Margaret was sent upstairs 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 feelings--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 all 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 in 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 to 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, will 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.
+
+"Ain't 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
+downstairs. 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 more 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 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 come!" echoed my aunt. "Mr. Edwards would be well employed
+to interfere with anything the family chose 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 aver 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
+Sunday, 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
+ain't much mo' in _dis_ world."
+
+"But I thought there were only very few," I said.
+
+"'Spose um fifty," said Maria. "Fifty ain't 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. Ain't much shining 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 favourite 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 amongst 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 upstairs 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 nowadays 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 the 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; not 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 a 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 parties 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'ng; 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, like 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 mingled 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 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 or 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 spirit 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 on 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
+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; he
+would spend the winter in the Pyrenees! 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 these 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 that 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 on questions and comments. I knew, as
+well as I know now, what would be thought of any plan of 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 Maria 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
+ribbon 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
+than 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 take 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,
+uncrystallized 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 cost 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 sorts 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 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 good 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's 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 un-mixed 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 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 unfrequently 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 a
+while 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 to 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 every one; 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 Pyrenees;
+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 airs, 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 wandered over the empty sarcophagi; held my
+breath at the pit's sides; and was never tired of going over the
+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 continuing 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 smokestack 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 farthest 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 be; but it fell oftener into the
+minor key, and then poured 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 prayer 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 debil 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 ain't 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 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 ain't looking 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?"
+
+"'Spose 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 berry good, Miss Daisy," she said, cheerily, a moment
+after; "and dem dat love Him, dere 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, nohow," 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 ain't no
+gentleman, nohow!"
+
+"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 number 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 her 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 berry 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 thundercloud. 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 hear 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's 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_ wideawake; 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, for the doctor looked at me and smiled as
+he said, "I see it _is_ Daisy; I think it is 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 and 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 sweetbriar 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 events and the names."
+
+"In writing?"
+
+"I might write it if I chose, I often do, but I had to give the
+synopsis from 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 inquiry as to my well-being;
+and if he found things not satisfactory, as my father feared he might,
+and judge 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, so
+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. Jem 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, s'pose 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
+manservant, 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 wrongdoing 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 ferry-boat 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 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.
+
+"Yes. But what makes _you_ want to get away from home more than all
+the rest of them?"
+
+"Reckon I'd 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 ain't 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 supposed Margaret dared not tell me. After a
+long time of weary tossing and heartache, 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, in 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 to 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 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 back, 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 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 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 hearts 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 an _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 nowadays. 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 not 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 fully as 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 merinoes. I had no
+objection ready.
+
+"What colour, Daisy?"
+
+"I want something quiet," I said.
+
+"Something dark," 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
+merinoes and I confronted each other. There was displayed now before
+me a piece of claret-coloured stuff, dark and bright; a lovely 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
+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."
+
+"Please, 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 all about it," I said; and then I desired the shopman
+to cut off the dress I had fixed upon; and we went upstairs 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 stairs, feeling perplexed, nevertheless, at the strangeness of the
+work I was doing, and with something in my heart giving a pull at my
+judgment towards the side of what was undoubtedly "pleasant to the
+eyes." So I followed Dr. Sandford up the stairs 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 downstairs?
+
+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 was not what I was thinking of."
+
+"When 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 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 he 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 in
+contrast with it, the one of the first there. 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," he 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 wareroom. 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, until 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 sufferings
+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 come 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 teeth between them.
+
+"Yes. I saw you were not warm in that thin shawl."
+
+"It's mighty cold up these ways!--" the girls 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. Ain't 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
+back again 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
+owned 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 took 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 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 down
+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?" 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 furs and feathers,
+for instance, wicked things?"
+
+He did not speak it 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
+nowadays. 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 _distingue_ 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 ribbon."
+
+"How much would _that_ be?" said Mrs. Sandford.
+
+"Oh really, I don't just know," the woman answered; "depends on the
+ribbon; 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 at 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, of 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 to 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 in 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 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 scrape 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. Aye, 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 unlocked
+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
+soft little 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 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 Macy. "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. Mme. 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'a plomb!"
+
+"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 those very few women who dress
+well; but which are more and more hideous the farther 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 mother. Only now going out towards China; and
+how long months might pass before China would be done 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 upstairs 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 weak
+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 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 can 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 my 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 text for the day that had
+just gone; now I thought I would try it in my difficulty. The very
+next 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 came
+still 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 an 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 upstairs, 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, heavily 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 out of doors 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 schoolfellows had all gone downstairs 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 sometime 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. "_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 schoolfellows'
+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 farther 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 recognize 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 patronized 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 elegances 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 for ever. 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 the 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 Wheelrights
+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 thing
+for one that it does for another."
+
+"Now, my good Bentley, that is just what it _don't_," said St. Clair,
+drumming up 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 who 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 may be 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 for ever 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 schoolgirl. 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 unmistakable
+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 slight 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 toilets 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 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, dear. 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 weel 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 all 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, its 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 coins 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 bread the 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 that 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 my 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 in 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 to
+you."
+
+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," said Miss St. Clair cavalierly. Somehow I
+felt that this little lady was not in a good mood awards 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 of 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 a 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, ain't 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.
+
+"Whoever 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 to 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 not 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 sculpture 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 are 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 stayed 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 Blackeyes, who
+was good-natured through everything.
+
+"Madame is not French herself," said Miss Bentley.
+
+"I hate everything at school!" St. Clair went on.
+
+"It's 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 on 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 bed-time. 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 curtseys;
+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 _a plomb_ there!"
+
+"Who talked about _a 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 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 Blackeyes, 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 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, Blackeyes; 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, O 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 all 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 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 you 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 ask 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
+arn'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. There was nothing to cause uneasiness;
+the intervals were often long between one packet of letters and the next;
+but 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 down 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 head-ache 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, nowadays? 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 the
+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's 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 from 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 girded 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 find 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 the lower
+ground, thrust out into the river, between me and the eastern shore,
+which lay wholly in shadow, one 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 as sharp as a needle. It is all
+before me, even the summer stillness in which my senses were wrapt.
+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 my self 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?"
+
+"Oh, 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 marketwoman," 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
+marketwoman 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 you 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 men, 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
+downstairs. 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 farther and farther.
+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 was a border of buildings and
+of flourishing trees as well. 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 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
+farther 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 whom 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
+civilization, 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 not 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 sounds 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
+guardmounting. 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, unsympathizingly. "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 hobnailed
+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, 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. You 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 be 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 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
+McFarlane, 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. 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 our 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 guardmounting 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. Guardmounting 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, vaporous 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 was not in a mood to bear
+laughing at.
+
+"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!" he replied.
+
+"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 uphill; 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
+the top--and you have been to Fort Putnam."
+
+"Why, I want you 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 band,
+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 Capt. Percival is from South
+Carolina, and Mr. Hunter is from Virginia, and Col. 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 most 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 to a back view of character; which engrossed me till my two
+statues went away.
+
+A little while after Preston came. "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. "Good-bye. 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 will be broiling to-day."
+
+And he left me. Things had gone wrong with Preston lately, I thought.
+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 apologize 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 on duty; they are only reckoned machines."
+
+"You do not mean that exactly, I suppose."
+
+"Indeed I do!" he said, with another slighter coruscation.
+"Intelligent machines, of course, and 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 thought the
+management of machines could not be very pleasant.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It is degrading to the machines--and so, I should think, it would not
+be very elevating to those that 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 'elogies 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 was 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 us 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 farther 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 deg., 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 on
+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 southernly, with its bordering ridge of hills, and above all,
+the wealth and glory of the woodland and the unheaved 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 nowadays."
+
+"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 Andre 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 had 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 Capt. 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 upstairs 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, my dear Daisy!--are you walked to death? 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 to 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 bringing 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, Capt. Percival came up and asked me to 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 Capt. 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 Capt. 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
+Capt. 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, Capt. Percival brought up Capt. Lascelles;
+and somebody else, Mr. Sandford, I believe, introduced Lt. Vaux, and
+Major Fairbairn; and Major Pitt was another, I believe. And Col.
+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
+manner 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 rain!" 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 excessive 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 inquiring "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 inquired, as soon as we were out of
+earshot.
+
+"Do you mean yesterday?"
+
+"Of course I mean yesterday! I saw you cross into 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 that 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 do not 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 tumbled
+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 the make and quality were different. 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
+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 let me just 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 commonize 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 then we started.
+
+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, 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 individualize 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 shared Mrs. Sandford's room, 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 fairylandlike 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 underbrush. 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 get on with my Bible at all. 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 of 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 hops, 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; then 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 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 for ever 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 suppose you have 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.
+
+"Oh 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'
+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--general," 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 inquiringly, 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 baulked 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 like 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 guardmounting and 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 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 there; 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 civilization 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 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. 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.
+
+"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 recreation? What '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
+dance. 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 Capt. Percival, but folded
+manfully. He had been watching me very intently; now he stood as
+intently looking off over the farther 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?"
+
+"O 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 do about 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.
+
+"O 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; then he continued--
+
+"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 scrutinize 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 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 and you may laugh at me," I said.
+
+"Why may I not understand you?" he asked deferentially.
+
+"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.
+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 one 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, overnight; 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. I remember the cool, bright freshness of the
+light, and its brilliant gleam in the distance after it had left the
+hillside. I have an impression of the calm clear beauty that was
+underfoot 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.
+
+"Was that anybody I knew?" I asked.
+
+"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 Madame'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 my mind very
+violent and very wrong-headed; at the same time, I knew that my mother
+would endorse and Preston 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 Madame 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 father and mother, Aunt Gary and Preston, and others,
+told me more. I began to pray that God would not let war come upon 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 native of New York.
+
+"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?
+
+"Aye, just that," she replied; "and fighting between the two parts of
+one land is just the worst fighting there can be. Pray it may not
+come, Daisy; but those people are quite 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 had been able
+to come to me. 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 organized.
+
+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; there 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 the 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 schoolfellows; 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 pre-occupation. 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
+had found my books, and had thrown myself down on the floor with one,
+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 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 that 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 that 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 in 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 were 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, looking at me (I thought afterwards, 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 tell me--have you two known
+each other long?"
+
+"It seems long," I said. "It is not very long."
+
+"Since 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 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
+besides 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 the 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
+gone 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--O 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 a 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 arm chair 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 well 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-five thousand men,
+Christian?"
+
+"Put down treason, if he can. Don't you realize 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 being 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 a 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?"
+
+"Aye, 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 as I took the bearings of my
+present position I became calm.
+
+I rose up the moment the two 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 along 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 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."
+
+"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 go 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 full 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 that I was
+ashamed to do. 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 veiled, "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 he touched my cheek as one
+who meant to keep his advantage. 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 for a while as
+I was.
+
+"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. O Christian, won't you?"
+
+"What shall my watchword be?" said he, looking into my eyes. But I was
+intent on something else then. I answered, "Whatsoever ye do, do all
+in the name of the Lord Jesus."
+
+"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, and I saw Miss Cardigan enter.
+
+"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 roughness 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.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+
+The following items were considered to be typographical errors and
+have been changed. Other typographic, spelling, punctuation errors and
+parochial speech has been left as they appear in the book.
+
+Page 17--Changed period into comma after the word "too" in the
+sentence--"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I.
+
+Page 37--Corrected "awkward" from "awkard" in the sentence--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.
+
+Page 40--Changed question mark to period and deleted quotation mark in
+the sentence--I asked what they all were."
+
+Page 51--Changed single quote to double quote after "light" in the
+sentence--"They must be very dark if they could not understand light,"
+said my governess.
+
+Page 56--Removed superfluous "n" from governess in--Then I remembered
+that my governess probably did care for some fruit
+
+Page 87--Corrected "string" to read "sting" in the sentence--It has a
+sting of its own, for which there is neither salve nor remedy; and it
+had the aggravation, in my case, of the sense of personal dishonour.
+
+Page 91--Added apostrophe to "girls" in the sentence--I have a
+recollection of the girl's terrified face, but I heard nothing more.
+
+Page 93--removed " from the start of the sentence--They had been gone
+half an hour, when Preston stole in and came to the side of my bed,
+between me and the firelight.
+
+Page 97--Added " after Melbourne in the sentence--"We shall have to
+let her do just as they did at Melbourne," said my aunt.
+
+Page 110--Added " after the word "by" in the sentence--"Mass' Preston
+come last night," she went on; "so I reckon Miss Daisy'll want to wear
+it by and by."
+
+Page 163--Changed period to ? in the sentence--"Will that distress you
+very much?"
+
+Page 178--Changed Mr. to Dr. in the sentence--"But, Dr.
+Sandford," I said, "nobody can belong to anybody--in that way."
+
+Page 193--Changed 'be' to 'he' in the sentence starting--I believe I
+half wished be would make some objection;
+
+Page 206--Added "le" to "aves" to make "leaves" in--"You wouldn't say
+so, if you knew the work it is to set those leaves round," said the
+mantua-maker.
+
+Page 240--Changed "for" into "far" in--but I am afraid the rule of the
+Good Samaritan would put us far apart.
+
+Page 249--Changed exclamation mark to question mark in--"Is there so
+much trouble everywhere in the world?"
+
+Page 250--Changed "I" to "It" in--It was a good photograph, and had
+beauty enough besides to hold my eyes.
+
+Page 257--Capitalised "W" in--Is it Daisy Randolph? What have you done
+to yourself?
+
+Page 266--changed beside to bedside in--I heard no sound while I was
+undressing, nor while I knelt, as usual now, by my bedside.
+
+Page 283--Changed rapidily to rapidly in--I watched him rapidly
+walking into the library;
+
+Page 285--Added question mark instead of period to--"Are you tired?"
+
+Page 316--Changed inmediately to immediately in--and placed himself
+immediately beside his summoner,
+
+Page 349--Changed "not" to "nor" in--"I cannot help that. He is
+neither gentlemanly in his habits nor true in his speech."
+
+Page 350--Added comma after "said" in--"You must not wear the same
+thing twice running," she said, "not if you can help it."
+
+Page 355--Changed period to question mark after "next" in--Who is
+next? Major Banks? Take care, Daisy, or you'll do some mischief."
+
+Page 374--Deleted comma after "see" in--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.
+
+Page 386--Changed subtance to substance in--men of business, men of
+character and some substance,
+
+Page 407--Changed "weel" to "well" in--"You may as well sit down and
+tell us."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy, by Elizabeth Wetherell
+
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