DAISY IN THE FIELD

BYELIZABETH WETHERELL

Author of "The Wide, Wide World, " "Queechy, " etc. , etc. 

WARD, LOCK &CO. , LIMITEDLONDON AND MELBOURNE

Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd. , Frome and London

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. THE FIRST SMOKE OF THE BATTLEFIELD

CHAPTER II. AT THE RENDEZVOUS

CHAPTER III. IN REVIEW

CHAPTER IV. ON FOOT

CHAPTER V. ON HORSEBACK

CHAPTER VI. IN THE FIRE

CHAPTER VII. DETAILED FOR DUTY

CHAPTER VIII. DAISY'S POST

CHAPTER IX. SKIRMISHING

CHAPTER X. WAITING

CHAPTER XI. A VICTORY

CHAPTER XII. AN ENGAGEMENT

CHAPTER XIII. A TRUCE

CHAPTER XIV. FLIGHT

CHAPTER XV. OLD BATTLEFIELDS

CHAPTER XVI. THE FORLORN HOPE

CHAPTER XVII. OUT OF THE SMOKE

CHAPTER XVIII. A MARKED BATTERY

CHAPTER XIX. ONE FALLEN

CHAPTER XX. THE WOUNDED

CHAPTER XXI. THE HOSPITAL

CHAPTER XXII. ORDERS

CHAPTER XXIII. "HERE!"

"My half-day's work is done;And this is all my part -I give a patient GodMy patient heart. 

"And clasp his banner still, Though all the blue be dim. These stripes, no less than stars, Lead after Him. "

CHAPTER I. 

THE FIRST SMOKE OF THE BATTLEFIELD. 

While Miss Cardigan went with her nephew to the door, Iremained standing by the fire, which could have witnessed toso much done around it that night. I felt strong, but Iremember my cheeks had an odd sensation as if the blood hadleft them. I did not know Miss Cardigan had come back, till Isaw her standing beside me and looking at me anxiously. 

"Will you go and lie down now, my lamb?"

"Oh, no!" I said. "Oh, no - I do not want to lie down. I havenot done my studying yet, that I came to do. "

"Studying!" said Miss Cardigan. 

"Yes. I want something out of some of your books. I have notdone it. I will sit down and do it now. "

"You're much more fit to lie down and go to sleep, " said she, sorrowfully. "Let be the study, Daisy; and take some rest, while ye can. "

"I shall have plenty of time, " I said. "I do not want anyrest, more than I shall get so. "

Miss Cardigan sighed - I had heard more sighs from her thatnight than in all my knowledge of her before; and I sat downon the floor again, to pull out again the volumes I had putup, and begin my school work anew. As I touched them, I felthow much had come into my hands, and fallen out of my hands, since I took them up before, just a few hours ago. It wouldnot do to think of that. I resolutely put it back, and setmyself about getting out of the books the facts I wanted formy work. Miss Cardigan left the room; and for a time I turnedover leaves vigorously. But the images of modern warfare beganto mix themselves inconveniently with the struggles of longago. Visions of a grey uniform came blending in dissolvingviews with the visions of monarchs in their robes of state andsoldiers in heavy armour; it meant much, that grey uniform;and a sense of loss and want and desolation by degrees creptover me, which had nothing to do with the ruin of kingdoms. The books grew heavy; my hands trembled; yet still I tried tomake good work, and bade myself deal with the present and letthe past and the future alone. The "present" being representedby my school day and my studies. Could I do it? The past andthe future rushed in at last, from opposite sides as it were, and my "present" was overthrown. I dropped my books and myselftoo, as nearly as possible; my heart gave way in a deeppassion of tears. 

Now I tried to reason myself out of this. What had I lost? Iasked myself. What were these tears for? What had I lost, thatI had not been without until only twelve hours before? Indeedrather, what had I not gained? But my reasonings were of nouse. Against them all, some vision of Thorold's face, somesparkle of his eyes, some touch of his hand, would come backto me, and break down my power and unlock fresh fountains oftears. This passion of self-indulgence was not like me, andsurprised myself. I suppose the reason was, I had been so longalone; I had been working my way and waiting, in exile fromhome as it were, so many days and years; nobody that loved mebetter than I loved myself had been near me for so very long;that the sweetness so suddenly given and so suddenly takenaway left me a little unsteady. Was it wonderful? The joy andthe grief were both new; I was not braced for either; the oneseemed to add poignancy to the other; and between the twofacts, that Thorold loved me, and that he was gone from meinto what might be a duty of danger, - that he was gone intodanger and that he loved me, - for a little while my soul wastossed back and forth like a ship on a stormy sea, unable tomake any headway at all. And so Miss Cardigan found me. Shehalf lifted half drew me up, I remember; made me lie downagain on the sofa, gave me some hot tea to drink; and when shehad made me drink it, she sat still looking at me, silent, andI thought a good deal disturbed. It would be difficult to tellwhy I thought so. Perhaps it was because she said nothing. Ilay quiet with my face hid in my hands. 

"What do you think to do with yourself to-day, now?" - was atlast her practical question. 

"What o'clock is it?" I whispered. 

"It's just on the stroke of six, Daisy. "

"I'll get up and go on with my work, " I said; and I raisedmyself to a sitting posture accordingly. 

"Work!" echoed Miss Cardigan. "You look like much of that!Your cheeks" (and she touched them) "they are the colour of mymagnolia there that has just opened. A night's work Christianhas made of it! I suppose he is travelling off as content asif he had something to praise himself for. The pride of thesemen! -"

I could not help laughing, and laughing made me cry. MissCardigan promptly put me back on the cushions and bade me liestill; and she sat in front of me there like a good shaggyhuman watch dog. I should not say _shaggy_, for she was entirelyneat and trim; but there was something of sturdy anduncompromising about her which suggested the idea. I laystill, and by and by went off into a sleep. That restored me. I woke up a couple of hours later all right and quite myselfagain. I was able to rush through the bit of study I hadwanted; and went over to Mme. Ricard's just a minute beforeschool opened. 

I had expected some uncomfortable questioning about my stayingout all night; but things do not happen as one expects. I gotno questioning, except from one or two of the girls. Mme. Ricard was ill, that was the news in school; the otherteachers had their hands full, and did not give themselves anyextra trouble about the doings of so regular and trusted aninmate as myself. The business of the day rolled on and rolledoff, as if last night had never been; only that I walked in adream; and when night came I was free to go to bed early andopen my budget of thoughts and look at them. From without, allwas safe. 

All day my thoughts had been rushing off, away from theschoolroom and from studies and masters, to look at a recedingrailway train, and follow a grey coat in among the crowd ofits fellows, where its wearer mingled in all the business andavocations of his interrupted course of life. Interrupted!yes, what a change had come to his and to mine; and yet allwas exactly the same outwardly. But the difference was, that Iwas thinking of Thorold, and Thorold was thinking of me. Howstrange it was! and what a great treasure of joy it was. Ifelt rich; with the most abounding, satisfying, inexhaustibletreasure of riches. All day I had known I was rich; now I tookout my gold and counted it, and could not count it, and gavefull-hearted thanks over it. 

If the brightness wanted a foil, it was there; the goldglittered upon a cloudy background. My treasure was notexactly in my hand to enjoy. There might be many days beforeThorold and I saw each other's faces again. Dangers laythreatening him, that I could not bear to think of; although Iknew they were there. And even were this cloud all clearedaway, I saw the edges of another rising up along the horizon. My father and my mother. My mother especially; what would shesay to Daisy loving an officer in the Northern army? Thatcloud was as yet afar off; but I knew it was likely to risethick and black; it might shut out the sun. Even so I mytreasure was my treasure still, through all this. Thoroldloved me and belonged to me; nothing could change that. Dangers, and even death, would not touch it. My mother'scommand could not alter it. She might forbid his marrying me;I must obey her; but the fact that we loved each other was afact beyond her reach and out of her, power, as out of mine. Thorold belonged to me, in this higher and indestructiblesense, and also I belonged to him. And in this joy I rejoiced, and counted my treasure with an inexpressible triumph of joythat it was uncountable. 

I wondered too, very much. I had had no idea that I lovedThorold; no dream that he liked me had ever entered my head. Ithought we were friends, and that was all. Indeed I had notknown there was anything in the world more, until one nightago. 

But I winced a little, privately, in the very bottom of myheart, that I had let Thorold have so much liberty; that I hadlet him know so easily what he was to me. I seemed unlike theDaisy Randolph of my former acquaintance. She was never sofree. But it was done; and I had been taken unawares and atdisadvantage, with the thought of coming danger and separationchecking every reserve I would have shown. I had to be contentwith myself at all events; Thorold knew my weakness and wouldnever forget it another time. 

I thought a great many other thoughts that night; some of themwere grave enough. My sleep however, when I went to sleep, wasas light as the fall of the dew. I could not be careful. Justseventeen, and just come into life's great inheritance, myspirit was strong, as such spirits are, to throw off everyburden. 

For several days it happened that I was too busy to see MissCardigan. I used to look over to her house, those days, as theplace where I had begun to live. Meanwhile I was bending myenergies to work, with a serious consciousness of woman's lifeand responsibility before me. In one way I think I felt tenyears older, when next I crossed the avenue and went into thefamiliar marble-paved hall and opened Miss Cardigan's door. That Thorold was not there, was the first thought with me. Certainly the world had made a revolution; but all things elselooked as usual; and Miss Cardigan gave me a welcome just asif the world had not turned round. She was busy with theaffairs of some poor people, and plunged me into them as hercustom was. But I fancied a somewhat more than usual of sobergravity in her manner. I fancied, and then was sure of it;though for a long time nothing was said which touched Thoroldor me. I had forgotten that it was to come; and then it came. 

"And what have ye been doing, my bonnie lady, since ye wentaway at eight o'clock o' the morn?"

I started, and found that I had lost myself in a reverie. Isaid, I had been studying. 

"You and me have need to study some new things, " Miss Cardigansaid, soberly. 

"Yes ma'am, " I said. But then - "What, Miss Cardigan?"

"There's our duty" - she said, with a pause at that part ofher sentence; - "and then, how to do it. Yes, Daisy, you neednot look at me, nor call the bloom up into your cheeks, thatChristian says are such an odd colour. Don't you think youhave duties, lassie? and more to-day than a fortnight syne?"

"But - Miss Cardigan, " I answered, - "yes, I have duties; but- I thought I knew them. "

"It will do no harm to look at them, Daisy. It is good to seeall round our duties, and it's hard too. Are you in a hurry togo back to school?"

"No, ma'am - I can have the evening. "

Miss Cardigan pushed her work-baskets and table away, and drewher chair up beside mine, before the fire; and made it blaze, and sat and looked into the blaze, till I wondered what wascoming. 

"I suppose this is all a fixed thing between Christian andyou, " she began at last. 

I hardly knew what she meant. I said, that I could not unfixit. 

"And he will not, no fear! So it is fixed, as we may say;fixed as two hearts can make it. But it's very sudden, Daisy;and you are a young thing, my dear. "

"I know it is sudden, " I said, meekly. "It is sudden to me. But he will not like me less for my being so young. "

Miss Cardigan laughed a short laugh. 

"Troth, he's no right, being young himself, we may say. Youare safe for his liking, my bonnie Daisy. But - your fatherand mother, my dear?"

"Yes, Miss Cardigan. "

"What will their word be?"

"I do not know, ma'am. "

"You will tell them, Daisy?"

This was very disagreeable to me. I had thought over thesethings, and made up my mind; but to outline on canvass, as itwere, and put in full depth of shadow, all the images ofopposition real and possible that might rise in my way - whichI knew might rise, - I liked not to do it. Still Miss Cardiganhad reason; and when she repeated, "You will tell them atonce?" I answered, "No, Miss Cardigan; I think not. "

"When, then, will you tell them?" she said shortly. 

"I think I will not tell them at all. I will wait, till -"

"Till Christian does it?"

"Yes. "

"When will _that_ be?"

"I do not know. It may be - a great while. Why should I tellthem before, Miss Cardigan?"

"For many reasons, as they seem to my mind, Daisy; and Ithought, as they would seem to yours. 'Honour thy father andthy mother. ' Daisy, would it be honouring them, to let themnot know?"

There were so many things, of which Miss Cardigan wasignorant! How could I answer her? I sat silent, pondering thedifficulty; and she was silent on her side, waiting for me tothink over it. It was never her way to be in a hurry; not toleave her work half done neither, as I knew. 

"I will honour them the best way I can, " I said at length. 

"Then you will write them next steamer. Is it not so, Daisy?"

"That would make it very difficult for me to honour them, " Isaid; "to honour them in action, I mean. "

"Why so? There is no way so short as a straight way. "

"No, ma'am. But -I cannot undo what is done, Miss Cardigan. "

"What our cheeks say your heart has done. No, child. " Andagain I heard the unwonted sigh from Miss Cardigan's lips. 

"Not my heart only, " I went on, plucking up courage. "I havespoken - I have let him speak. I cannot undo it - I cannotundo it. "

"Well?" said Miss Cardigan, looking anxious. 

"It was done before I thought of mamma and papa. It was alldone - it is done; and I cannot undo it now, even for them. "

"My dear, you would not marry without your parents' consent?"

"No, Miss Cardigan. They may forbid _that_. "

"What then? What harm would be done by your letting them knowat once how the case stands. They would care for yourhappiness, Daisy. "

Not with a Northerner, a farmer's son, and an officer in theNorthern army. I knew how it would be; but I could not tellMiss Cardigan. 

"What is it you cannot undo, little Daisy?" she said softly, Isuppose seeing me look troubled. And she stretched out a kindhand and took hold of mine. It was very hard to bear. All thiswas a sort of dragging things into light and putting things inblack and white; more tangible and more hard to deal with forever after. 

"What is it you cannot undo? Since you confess, that if theydesired, you would undo the whole. "

"Not my faith, nor my affection, " - I said, slowly. "Somethings they may forbid, and I obey; but _these_ things arepassed beyond their power, and beyond mine. I will be true. Icannot help it now, if I would. "

"But, Daisy -" said Miss Cardigan, and she was evidentlyperplexed now herself. - "Since you are ready to obey them inthe utmost and give up Thorold if they say so, what is there, my dear, which your father and mother could command _now_ inwhich you are not ready to obey them?"

"The time has not come, Miss Cardigan, " I said. "It may be -you know it may be - long, before they need know anythingabout it; before, I mean, anything could be done. I am goingabroad - Christian will be busy here - and they might tell menot to think of him and not to write to him; and - I can'tlive so. It is fair to give him and myself the chance. It isfair that they should know him and see him before they hearwhat he wants of them; or at least before they answer it. "

"Give him and yourself the _chance_ - of what, Daisy?"

"I don't know, " I said faint-heartedly. "Of what time may do. "

"Then you think -my dear, you augur ill of your father's andmother's opinion of your engagement?"

"I can't help it now, Miss Cardigan, " I said; and I know Ispoke firmly then. "I did not know what I was doing - I didnot know what was coming. If I had known, if I could havehelped myself, I think I ought not to have loved anybody orlet anybody speak to me without my father and mother choosingit; but it was all done before I could in the least help it;and you know I cannot help it now. I owe something besides tothem now. I will not disobey them in anything I can help; -but I will be true, - as long as I live. "

Miss Cardigan sat a long while silent, holding my hand all thewhile; sometimes clasping, and sometimes fondling it. Then sheturned and kissed me. It was very hard to bear, all of it. 

"I suppose you are a great heiress, " she said at last; as ifthe words escaped her, and with a breath of a sigh. 

"It is not that!" I exclaimed. "No, I am not. I am not - Ishall not be a great heiress, or an heiress at all, I think. Christian is richer than I. "

"My dear!" said Miss Cardigan. "Christian never said a word tome about it, but your friend Mrs. Sandford - she told _me_; shetold me you would be one of the richest women in your State. "

"She thought so, " - I said. 

"My dear, your parents are very wealthy; and they have onlyone other child, Mrs. Sandford told me. I remember, for ittook me with a pity at my heart, little Daisy, for you. "

"Yes, they are wealthy, " I said; "and Ransom, my brother, isthe only other one. _He_ will be rich. But I shall not. "

"Do you mean he is the favourite?" said Miss Cardigan. 

"Oh, no!" I said. "At least, if he is, so am I. It isn't that. But I shall never be an heiress, Miss Cardigan. I shall bevery poor, I rather think. "

I smiled at her as I said these words - they were upon thefirst pleasant subject that had been touched for some timebetween us; and Miss Cardigan looked quite bewildered. Iremembered she had good reason; and I thought it was right, though very much against my will, to explain my words. 

"You know what makes my father and mother rich?" I said. 

"My dear!" said Miss Cardigan - "They have large Southernproperties. "

"And you know what makes Southern wealth?" I went on. 

"Rice - cotton -"

"No, it isn't that, " I said. 

"What then, my dear? I do not know what you mean. I thought itwas mainly cotton. "

"It is unpaid labour, " I said. "It is hands that ought to workfor themselves; and men and women that ought to belong tothemselves. "

"Slaves, " said Miss Cardigan. "But, Daisy, what do you mean?It's all true; but what can you do?"

"I can have nothing to do with it. And I will have nothing. Iwould rather be poor, as poor as old Darry and Maria, thantake what belongs to them. Miss Cardigan, so would you. "

She settled herself back in her chair, like a person who hasgot a new thought. "My dear child!" she said. And then shesaid nothing more. I did not wish she should. I wanted nocounsel, nor to hear any talk about it. I had only spoken somuch, as thinking she had a right to hear it. I went back intomy own meditations. 

"Daisy, my child, " she said suddenly after a while, - "thereis only one thing to be said; and the word is not mine. 'Ifthe world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hatedyou. "

"Why, Miss Cardigan, " said I, smiling, "do you think the, world will hate me for such a thing?"

"It hates all those who pretend to tell it is wrong. "

"I do not pretend to tell it anything, " I said. 

"There is no preaching like that of the life. Daisy, have youwell considered this matter?"

"For years. "

"Then I'll know how to pray for you, " she said. And there ourconversation ended. It had laid on my heart a grave burden ofwell-defined care, which went with me thenceforth. I couldnever ignore it nor doubt it was there. Not but I knew wellenough each several point in our discussion, before it hadcome up in words between Miss Cardigan and me; but having socome up, and taken form, each was a tangible thing for everafter. It is odd, how much we can bear unspoken, to whichwords give an unendurable weight and power. However, thesetroubles, in their present form, were not unendurable. I onlyfelt them constantly from that time. 

My visits to Miss Cardigan now were what they had always been;only perhaps she was a little more tenderly affectionate andcareful of me. We did not go back to the discussions of thatday, nor to any other regarding my affairs; but she and Iscanned the papers well, and talked to each other of the itemsthat seemed now to touch Thorold's and my future as well asthe future of the country. We talked, - I could not help it;and yet often I would as lief not; the subjects were notquieting. 

The first thing, was the going to Washington of Christian andhis class. He wrote to me about it. They went in haste andzeal; waiting for nothing; losing not a train; going by night. Some in civilian's dress; some in cadet clothes, with theblack stripe torn off the leg; all eager for their work. Whatwork? It was peaceful enough work just at first. Thorold andothers were set to drill the new citizen soldiers who had comein, answering to the President's proclamation, and who knewsimply nothing of the business they were to be wanted for, ifwanted at all. It was likely they would have something to do!Already a second proclamation from the President had calledfor a second supply of men, to serve for three years, if thewar was not sooner ended. Seamen for the navy also, in likemanner. 

For three years or the war! It went to my heart, thatrequisition. It looked so terribly in earnest. And sounhopeful. I wondered, those days, how people could live thatdid not know how to pray; when every one had, or might have, atreasure at stake in this fierce game that was playing. I haveoften since felt the same wonder. 

I do not know how studies and the usual forms of schoolrecitations went on; but they did go on; smoothly, I suppose. I even recollect that mine went on successfully. With mydouble or treble motive for desiring success, I had also areason for prizing and remembering the attainment. But my headwas on graver matters, all the time. Would the rebels attack, Washington? it was constantly threatened. Would fightingactually become the common news of the land? The answer tothis second query began to be sounded audibly. It was beforeMay was over, that Ellsworth's soldiers took possession ofAlexandria, and he was killed. That stirred people at thetime; it looks a very little thing now. Alexandria! how Iremembered driving through it one grey morning, on one of mySouthern journeys; the dull little place, that looked as if ithad fallen asleep some hundred or two years ago and neverwaked up. Now it was waked up with rifle shots; but its slavepen was emptied. I was glad of that. And Thorold was safe inWashington, drilling raw soldiers, in the saddle all day, andvery happy, he wrote me. I had begun to be uneasy about hiswriting to me. It was without leave from my father and mother, and the leave I knew could not be obtained; it would followthat the indulgence must be given up. I knew it must. I lookedthat necessity in the face. A correspondence, such acorrespondence, carried on without their knowing of it, mustbe an impossibility for me. I intended to tell Christian so, and stop the letters, before I should go abroad. Mydifficulties were becoming daily more and more clear, andlooking more and more unmanageable. I wondered sometimeswhither I was drifting; for guide or choose my course I couldnot. I had got into the current by no agency and with no faultof my own. To get out of the current - perhaps that might notbe till life and I should go out together. So I was a somewhatsober and diligent student those closing weeks of the term;and yet, very happy, for Christian loved me. It was a new, sweet, strange, elixir of life. 

The term was almost out, when I was called to the parlour oneday to see Mrs. Sandford. All winter I had not seen her; shehad not been in New York. I think she was unaffectedly glad tosee me; somehow my presence was pleasant to her. 

"Out of school!" she exclaimed, after a few greetings hadpassed. "Almost out of school. A woman, Daisy. My dear, Inever see you but I am struck with the change in you. Don'tchange any more! you are just right. "

I laughed and asked her, what was the change in me? I had notgrown taller. 

"No -" said Mrs. Sandford - "I don't know that you have; butyour figure is improved, and you have the air of being taller, Daisy. I never saw you looking so well. My dear, what work youare going to do now! now that you are out of the 'elements. 'And by the by - what _are_ you going to do, when school closesand you are set free?"

I said I could not tell; I had received no directions. I waswaiting for letters from somewhere, to tell me what I must do. 

"Suppose you go with me to Washington. "

"Washington!" - I ejaculated, and therewith the power ofspeech left me. 

"Yes. You are not afraid, Daisy, that you look at me so? Somepeople are afraid, I know, and think Washington is going to bestormed by the Southern army; but that is all nonsense, Grantsays; and I always trust Grant. He knows. He wants me to come. He says Washington is a novel sight just now, and I may neverhave such another chance; and I think I shall do as he saysand go. Washington is full of soldiers, and no ladies in it. You are not _afraid?_"

"Oh, no. But - Dr. Sandford has not written to me to come. "

"Yes, he has; or something very like it. He asked me to comeand see you as I passed through the city - I was not likely toneed his admonition, Daisy, my dear, for it always does megood to see you; - and he added that I might suggest to youthat I was coming, and ask you if your curiosity inclined youto take the trouble of the journey. He said _he_ thought itworth while, - and that we would both find it so. "

I was dumb. Dr. Sandford little knew to what he was invitingme; and I - and Thorold - What a strange chance. 

"Well, what are you pondering?" Mrs. Sandford cried gaily. "Dresses? You don't care for dresses; besides, we can havethem made in two minutes. Don't you want to go, Daisy? I amsure you do; and I am sure Grant will take famous good care ofus, and you specially, and show us the camps and everything. And don't you want to see the President?"

"I have seen him. "

"When, and where?"

"In the street - when he went through, on his way toWashington. "

"Well, I don't care much for Presidents; but this one they sayso many different things about, that it makes me curious. Don't you want to see him again?"

"Yes - I would like it. "

"Then you'll come with me - I see it; and I'll have everythingin readiness. Thursday, does your school-work end? then wewill go Saturday. You will want one day perhaps, besides, theysay Friday is unlucky. I never go a journey on Friday. "

"I would as lieve go Friday as any day, " I said. 

"Oh, well - Saturday will be soon enough; and now good-bye, mydear; you to your work and I to mine. You are beautiful, mydear Daisy!" she added, kissing me. 

I wondered if it was true. If it was, I was glad, forThorold's sake. I knew it would be a pleasure to him. And tomy father and mother also; but that brought other thoughts, and I went off to my studies. 

CHAPTER II. 

AT THE RENDEZVOUS. 

The examination was over and school ended for me, before I hadone half hour to spare to go to see Miss Cardigan. Theexamination had passed as I could have wished it might; allhad gone well; and I could afford to put by that whole trainof thought, even as I put up my school-books and stowed themaway; being things that I should not immediately want again. Some time would pass, it was likely, before I would need torefresh my memory with mathematics or philosophy. My music wasanother matter, and I kept that out. 

I put my books hastily as well as securely away; and then tookmy hat and rushed over to Miss Cardigan's. It was a very warmJune day. I remember now the cool feeling of her marble hall. Miss Cardigan sat in her matted parlour, busy as always, looking quiet and comfortable in a white muslin wrapper, andneat as a pin; also an invariable thing. Something in thepeaceful, settled, calm air of the place impressed me, Isuppose, with a feeling of contrast; of an uninvaded, undisturbed domain, which changes were not threatening. I hadgone over the street hurriedly; I walked into the room with aslow step. 

"Daisy! my dear child!" Miss Cardigan exclaimed, - "is it you?and is all over? I see it is. Just sit down, and you shallhave some strawberries; you look tired, my love. "

I sat still, and waited, and eat my strawberries. 

"Miss Cardigan, " I said at length, "what is Christian'saddress in Washington?"

"In Washington? I don't know. Did he never give it to you?"

"No, ma'am; nothing except 'Washington. ' "

"I suppose that is enough. Haven't you written to him?"

"I have written once. - I have been thinking, Miss Cardigan, that I must stop the writing. "

"Altogether?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"His writing too?"

"Yes. My father and mother do not know - and I cannot askthem, - and -"

"You are right, " Miss Cardigan answered sorrowfully. "And yetyou will let your engagement stand, Daisy?"

"I cannot break my part of it, ma'am. I - nor they - cannotchange what is, and what has been done. The future is in theirhands - or in God's hands, rather. "

Miss Cardigan sighed. 

"And what then, dear, about the address?" she said. 

"Because, Miss Cardigan, I am going there. I am going toWashington. "

She stopped her work to look at me. 

"I am going Saturday. My guardian has sent for me. It is verystrange, Miss Cardigan; but I must go; and I thought I wouldlike to know in what part of the city Christian is. "

"Will you write to let him know? You will, of course. Writejust as usual, child; the letter will reach him. "

"Why should I, Miss Cardigan? what use? He cannot come to seeme. "

"Why not?"

"I would not dare. My guardian watches me well; and he wouldnot like my seeing Mr. Thorold of all people. "

"Why not? Ah, child! there is a rose leaf in each of yourcheeks this minute. That tells the story. Then, Daisy, you hadbetter not go to Washington. Christian will not bear that verywell; and it will be hard for you too. My dear, it will behard. "

"Yes, ma'am - and hard not to go. I shall go, Miss Cardigan. "

"And mayn't I tell him you are there?"

"No, ma'am. If I can, I will let him know somehow. "

But a sense of the difficulties, dangers, doubts anduncertainties, thronging my way, therewith pressed heavilyupon me; and I sat in silence and weariness, while MissCardigan put up her work and ordered tea, and finally went offto her greenhouse. Presently she came back with a rose in herhand and held it under my face. It was a full dewy sweetdamask rose, rich and fragrant and lovely as such a rose canbe. I took it and looked at it. 

"Do ye mind, " my old friend said, "how the flowers spoke toyou and brought you messages, when Daisy was a child yet andfirst came to see me?"

"I know - I remember, " I said. 

"Does that no tell you something?"

"What does it tell me?" I said, scarce able to command mywords, under the power of association, or memory, which waslaying its message on my heart, though it was a flower thatbore the message. Inanimate things do that sometimes - Ithink, often, - when the ear of the soul is open to hear them;and flowers in especial are the Lord's messengers and speakwhat He gives them. I knew this one spoke to me. 

"Listen, and see, " Miss Cardigan said. 

I looked, and as I looked, these words came up in my mind -

"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"

"The Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him. "

And still as I looked, I remembered, - "In all theirafflictions He was afflicted;" - and, "My God shall supply allyour need, according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus. "The words came into my head; but apart from the words, therose seemed to say all these things to me. People who neverheard flowers talk would think me fanciful, I suppose. 

"And you will go to that city of trouble, and you will not letChristian know?" Miss Cardigan said after a while. 

"Yes ma'am. - No ma'am, " I answered. 

"Suppose he should be angry about it?"

"Does he get angry?" I asked; and his aunt laughed. 

"Does the child think he is perfect?"

"No, certainly, " I said; "of course he has faults; but, MissCardigan, I did not think anger was one of them, - or gettingangry. "

"He will never get angry with you, Daisy, it is my firmbelief. "

"But does he, easily, with other people?"

"There! I don't know, " she said. "He used to be gay quick withhis temper, for all so gentle as he is. I wouldn't try him toofar, Daisy, with not letting him know. "

"I cannot tell him -" I said, sighing. 

For I knew, better than she did, what thorough good care wouldbe taken of me, and what small mercy such a visitor as Mr. Thorold would meet at the hands of my guardians. So with adoubtful heart I kissed Miss Cardigan, and went back over theway to prepare for my journey. Which was, however, thrown overby a storm till the next week. 

The journey made my heart beat, in spite of all my doubts. Itwas strange, to see the uniforms and military caps whichsprinkled every assemblage of people, in or out of the cars. They would have kept my thoughts to one theme, even ifwandering had been possible. The war, - the recruiting for thewar, - the coming struggle, - the large and determinedpreparation making to meet it, - I saw the tokens of thesethings everywhere, and heard them on every hand. The longday's ride to Washington was a long fever dream, as it seemsto me now; it seemed a little so to me then. 

It was dark when we reached Washington; but the thought thatnow became present with me, that anywhere Thorold might be, could scarce be kept in check by the reflection that hecertainly would not be at the railway station. He was notthere; and Dr. Sandford was; and a carriage presently conveyedus to the house where rooms for us were provided. Not a hotel, I was sorry to find. By no chance could I see Thoroldelsewhere than in a hotel. 

Supper was very full of talk. Mrs. Sandford wanted to knoweverything; from the state of the capital and the militarysituation and prospects for the nation, to the openings forenjoyment or excitement which might await ourselves. Thedoctor answered her fast enough; but I noticed that he oftenlooked at me. 

"Are you tired?" he asked me at length; and there was a toneof gentle deference in his question, such as I often heardfrom Dr. Sandford. I saw that my silence struck him. 

"Nonchalant, " said Mrs. Sandford, half laughing. "Daisy doesnot care about all these things. Why should she? To see and toconquer are the same thing with her, whatever becomes of yourSouthern and Northern camps and armies. "

"Indeed I do care, " I said. 

"For receptions at the White House? - or military reviews? -or parades, or encampments? Confess, Daisy. "

"Yes, I care, " I said. "I care about some of these things. "

"I am glad to hear it, " said Mrs. Sandford. "I really thought, Daisy, you were superior to them all. Why, child, you havedone nothing but meditate, in the gravest manner, ever sincewe took seats in the cars this morning. I was thinking thatnothing but cabinet ministers would interest you. "

This would not do. I roused myself and smiled. 

"What do you think of your ward?" said Mrs. Sandfordpointedly. 

"I think more of her guardian, " said the doctor somewhatdryly. 

"How soon are you going to send Daisy to Europe?"

"According to orders, just as soon as I can satisfy myselfwith a good opportunity. I wish you would go. "

"Meanwhile, it is a very good thing that she should come here. It will keep her from _ennui_ at least. Washington is alive, that is one thing; and Daisy, my dear, we may mount musketsyet. Come, let us go and get a good night's sleep while thatis possible. "

I was glad to be alone. I took off my dusty travelling dress, refreshed myself with a bath, put on a wrapper, and sat downto think. 

I found my heart was beating in a way that showed some mentalfever. What was I about? what was I going to do? I askedmyself. 

I sat with my head in my hands. Then I got up and walked thefloor. I found that I was determined to see Mr. Thorold, andto see him as soon as possible. Yet I had no certain means ofcommunicating with him. My determination was a vaguedetermination, but it sprung from the necessity of the case. Imust see Mr. Thorold. Both of us in Washington for a littlewhile now, no foresight could tell when again we might be neareach other. It might well be never. I would see him. Then camethe question, - Daisy, what are you going to say to him, whenyou see him? I walked and thought. 

Our correspondence must cease. I must tell him that. - It wasdreadfully hard to think it, but I knew it must cease. I couldnot receive letters from Christian in Switzerland, andcertainly I could not write them, without the knowledge of myfather and mother; - and if I could, I would not. We must stopwriting; we must be hundreds of miles apart, know that dangersclustered round the path of one if not both, know that cloudsand uncertainties hung over all our future, and we must notwrite. And I must tell Mr. Thorold so. It was very hard; for Idid not flatter myself with an easy bright clearing away ofour difficulties by and by, even if the storm of the warshould roll over and leave Christian to encounter them withme. I did not hope that explanations and a little persuasionwould induce my mother and my father to look favourably on aNorthern suitor for their daughter's hand. My father? - hepossibly might give up his pleasure for the sake of myhappiness; with my mother I saw no such possibility. It wasuseless to hope they would let me write to an officer in theUnion army. If any chance at all for my happiness were in thefuture, it must lie in changes not yet accomplished, or in Mr. Thorold's own personal power of recommending himself; ratherin both these. For the present - I could not tell how long -now, soon, as soon as I should leave Washington again, we mustbe separated. I wished I could see Thorold that very evening!In Washington - maybe not far off - and days so few - and Icould not see him! I sat down again and put my head in myhand. Had I done wrong, made any unconscious mistake neglectedany duty, that this trouble had come upon me? I tried tothink. I could not find that I had to blame myself on any suchscore. It was not wrong to go to West Point last summer. Iheld none but friendly relations with Mr. Thorold there, sofar as I knew. I was utterly taken by surprise, when at MissCardigan's that night I found that we were more than friends. Could I hide the fact then? Perhaps it would have been rightto do it, if I had known what I was about; but I did not know. Mr. Thorold was going to the war; I had but a surprisedminute; it was simply impossible to hide from him all whichthat minute revealed. Now? Now I was committed; my truth waspledged; my heart was given. My heart might be broken, butcould never be taken back. Truth must be truth; and my lifewas Mr. Thorold's if it belonged to anybody but my father andmother. I settled that point. It was needless ever to look atit again. 

I had something else to tell Mr. Thorold; and here I took upmy walk through the room, but slowly now. I was not going tobe an heiress. I must tell him that. He must know all aboutme. I would be a poor girl at last; not the rich, very rich, Miss Randolph that people supposed I would be. No yearlyrevenues; no Southern mansions and demesnes; no power of nameand place. Would Mr. Thorold care? I believed not. I had nodoubt but that his care was for myself alone, and that heregarded as little as I the adventitious circumstances ofwealth and standing which I intended to cast from me. Nevertheless, _I_ cared. Now, when it was not for myself, I didcare. For Mr. Thorold, I would have liked to be rich beyond myriches, and powerful above my power. I would have liked topossess very much; that I might make him the owner of it all. And instead, I was going to give him as poor a wife as ever hecould have picked up in the farm-houses of the North. Yes, Icared. I found I cared much. And though there was not, ofcourse, any wavering of my judgment as to what was right, Ifound that to do the right would cost me something; more thanI could have thought possible; and to tell Mr. Thorold of itall, was the same as doing it. I walked down a good manybitter regrets, of pride or affection; I think both were atwork; before I dismissed the matter from my mind that night. 

I think I had walked a good part of the night while I wascogitating these things and trying to bring my thoughts intoorder respecting them. While I was at last preparing forsleep, I reflected on yet another thing. I always looked backto that evening at Miss Cardigan's with a mixture of feelings. Glad, and sorrowful, and wondering, and grateful, as I was inthe remembrance, with all that was mingled a littledispleasure and disapproval of myself for that I had allowedMr. Thorold so much liberty, and had been quite so free in mydisclosures to him of my own mind. I did not know how it hadhappened. It was not like me. I ought to have kept him more ata distance, kindly of course. One, or two, kisses - my cheekburnt at the thought - were the utmost he should have beenallowed; and I ought to have been more reserved, and withoutdenying the truth, to have kept myself more in my own power. Iresolved I would do it in the future. I would keep my ownplace. Mr. Thorold might indeed know what he was to me andwhat I was to him; I did not mean to hide that; but he must besatisfied with knowing it and not take any liberties with theknowledge. 

So I went to sleep; but my sleep was heavy and scarcelyrefreshing. I woke up, startled with the thought that I was inWashington and might see Christian to-day. And I found thedesire quite outran the possibility. 

I was therefore ready to agree to all the plans of mycompanions; which included for that day a ride to the campsand the President's reception. Abroad, amidst the stir of men, especially where soldiers were or soldiers' work was done, Imight hope to see Christian. What then, if I saw him? I leftthat point. One thing at a time. 

CHAPTER III. 

IN REVIEW

There were a party of us that went that morning to see thesights in the neighbourhood of Washington. On horseback wewere; Dr. Sandford and Mrs. Sandford, Colonel Forsyth, whom Ihad seen at West Point, another gentleman, and myself. Isuppose my senses were keened by anxiety; I never shall forgetthe wonderful beauty of the afternoon and of what we came tosee. In some intense moods of mind, it seems as if everysunbeam had daguerreotyping power, and memory the preparednessto receive and retain. And I could tell even now, where therewas a sunny bank, and where a group of sun-touched trees; thering of our horses' hoofs is in my ear with a thought; and Icould almost paint from memory the first view of the camp wewent to see. We had crossed over into Virginia; and thisregiment, - it was Ellsworth's they told me, - was encampedupon a hill, where tents and trees and uniforms made a bright, very picturesque, picture. Ellsworth's corps; and he was gonealready. I could not help thinking of that; and while the restof the party were busy and merry over the camp doings, I satin my saddle looking over some lower grounds below the hill, where several other regiments were going through certainexercises. It looked like war! it went through my heart. AndEllsworth's soldiers had lost their commander already. Verylikely there was somebody to miss and mourn him; somebody athome; his mother - a young wife, perhaps -

"Is Daisy tired already?" Dr. Sandford's voice was at my side. 

I roused myself and said we had had a pretty brisk ride, and Ihad not been on horseback in a long time; which was true and Ifelt it. 

"Has it been too much for you?" he said, with a change oftone. 

I disclaimed that. 

"These war-shows make you thoughtful?"

"They give me something to think about. "

"They need not. "

"How can they help it?"

"Daisy, I am confident there is not the slightest danger toWashington. Do you think I would have brought you intodanger?"

"Oh, I am not thinking of danger to myself!" I exclaimed. "Iam not afraid in that way. "

"For the country, are you afraid?"

"Dr. Sandford, do you think there is real danger to thecountry?" I asked. 

"The South will do what they can. "

"Do you expect the North will be able to stand against them?"

"_You_ do not, " - he said smiling. 

"I know nothing about it, " I said; "or at least, I know verylittle of what the North can do. Of course, I know _some_Northern soldiers will fight as well as any; but, do youthink, Dr. Sandford, they can stand - the greater part of them- do you think they can meet the bravery and skill of theSouth and get the better?"

I asked anxiously. Dr. Sandford's brow grew grave. 

"Daisy, I don't know, as you say; but I have lived among theNorthern people in my life; and when a Yankee 'takes anotion, ' he is as tough a customer as ever I wish to have todeal with. "

"But they are not accustomed to fighting, " I said. 

"I am afraid they will be, before it is through. "

"Then you think they are as brave as the South? Can they be?"

Dr. Sandford laughed at me a good deal. Nevertheless, I couldnot find out what he thought; and I knew, I thought, what hedid not know so well. I knew the fiery proud spirit of mynative portion of the people. While his banter fell on myears, my eyes went off to the sunlit green fields where thetroops were parading; on Southern soil; and I saw inimagination the rush and fury of vengeful onset, which mightcome over those very fields; I saw the unequal contest; I saw- what happened soon after. I sighed as I turned my eyes tothe doctor again. 

"You are more of a Southerner than I thought you, " he said. And I fancied some gratification lurked behind the words. 

"But _you_ are true?" I exclaimed. 

"True!" said the doctor, smiling. "True to what? I hope I amtrue. "

"I mean, you are a true Northerner? you do not sympathise withthe South?"

"I do not think they are in the right, Daisy; and I cannot sayI wish they should succeed. It is very natural that you shouldwish it. "

"I do not, " I said. "I wish the right to succeed. "

"I believe you do, or you would not be Daisy. But, with awoman, - excuse me, - the right is where her heart is. "

Dr. Sandford touched so much more than he knew in this speech, I felt my cheek grow hot. I thought at the same time that hewas speaking with the intent to find out more than he knew. Iwas silent and kept my face turned from him. 

"You do not plead guilty, " he went on. 

"The charge is not guilt, but weakness, " I said coolly. 

"Weakness!" said the doctor. "Not at all. It is a woman'sstrength. "

"To be misled by her feelings?"

"No; to be _led_ by them. Her feelings tell her where the rightis - generally. You are Daisy; but a woman, and thereforeperhaps no exception. Or _are_ you an exception? How is it, Daisy?"

"I do not wish the South to succeed, Dr. Sandford - if that iswhat you mean. "

"It is quite enough, " he said, "to constitute you a remarkableexception. I do not know three more at this minute, in thiscause. You will not have the sympathies of your father andmother, Daisy?"

"No, Dr. Sandford. "

"Your cousin, Mr. Gary, whom we saw last summer; - on whichside is he?"

"I have not heard from him since he came to Washington. I donot know where he is. I want to find out. "

"We can easily find out, " said the doctor. "If Colonel Forsythdoes not know, we shall see somebody this evening probably whocan tell us about him. "

We rode home through the lingering sunlight of that long day;uniforms, camps, fortifications, cannon, on all sidesproclaiming the new and strange state of things upon which thecountry had fallen; busy people passing and repassing in alldirections; an air of life and stir everywhere that would havebeen delightful, if the reason had been only different. Itsaddened me. I had to make a constant effort to hide the factfrom my companions. One of them watched me, I knew. Dr. Sandford thought I was tired; and proposed that we shoulddefer going to the White House until the next occasion; but Icould not rest at home and insisted on carrying out theoriginal scheme for the day. I was in a fever now to see Mr. Thorold; keeping up a constant watch for him, which weariedme. To watch with more hope of success, I would go to thePresident's reception. Mr. Thorold might be there. 

Mrs. Sandford, I remember, was very earnest about my dress. Iwas in no danger from gratified or ungratified vanity now; itwas something else that moved me as I robed myself for thatreception. And I met my escort in the drawing-room, forgettingthat my dress could be a subject of interest to anybody butone, - who might not see it. 

"Why, that is - yes! that is the very same thing you wore tothe cadets' hop; the last hop you went to, Daisy?" Mrs. Sandford exclaimed, as she surveyed me. 

"It will do, won't it?" I said. "I have had nothing new madethis spring. "

"Do!" said the lady. "What do you think, Grant?"

Dr. Sandford's face was a little flushed. 

"Anything will do, " he said. "It makes less difference thanladies suppose. "

"It has more to do than gentlemen ever imagine!" Mrs. Sandfordreturned indignantly. "It is very good, Daisy. That pure whitesomehow suits you; but I believe everything suits you, mydear. Your mother will be a proud woman. "

That sentence laid a little weight on my heart, which had justbeen springing with undefined hope. I had been thinking ofsomebody else who might perhaps be not displeased with me. 

I sought for his figure that night, among the crowds at thePresident's reception; amidst all the other interests of thehour, that one was never forgotten. And there were manyinterests certainly clustering about Washington and Washingtonsociety then. The assembly was very peculiar, very marked, very striking in many of its characteristics. The women werefew, much fewer than make part of ordinary assemblies; the menwere unusually well-looking, it seemed to me; and had an airof life and purpose and energy in definite exercise, which wasvery refreshing to meet. Besides that, which was generallytrue, there were in Washington at this time many marked men, and men of whom much was expected. The last have been first, it is true, in many an instance; here as elsewhere;nevertheless, the aspect of things and people at the time wasnovel and interesting in the highest degree. So, was the talk. Insipidities were no longer tolerated; everybody was _living_, in some real sense, now. 

I had my second view of the President, and nearer by. It didnot disappoint me, nor change the impression produced by thefirst view. What a homely face! but I thought withal, what afine face! Rugged, and soft; gentle, and shrewd; MissCardigan's "Yon's a mon!" recurred to me often. A man, everyinch of him; self- respecting, self-dependent, having a sturdymind of his own; but wise also to bide his time; strong towait and endure; modest, to receive from others all they couldgive him of aid and counsel. But the honest, keen, kindly eyeswon my heart. 

The evening was very lively. There were a great many people tosee and talk to, whom it was pleasant to hear. Dr. Sandford, Ialways knew was a favourite; but it seemed to me this eveningthat our party was thronged. Indeed I had little chance andless time to look for Mr. Thorold; and the little I could useavailed me nothing. I was sure he was not there; for hecertainly would have seen me. And what then? It would not havebeen agreeable. I began to think with myself that I wassomewhat inconsistent. 

It was not till I got home that I thought this, however. I hadno time for private reflections till then. When we reachedhome, Mrs. Sandford was in a talkative mood; the doctor verysilent. 

"And what do you think of General Scott, Daisy? you have notseen him before. "

"I do not know, " I said. "I did not hear him, talk. "

"You have not heard Mr. Lincoln talk, have you?"

"No, certainly not; not before to night. "

"You know how you like _him_, " Dr. Sandford said pointedly. 

"Yes. "

"My dear, you made him the most beautiful reverence that Iever knew a woman could make; grace and homage in perfection;but there was something else in it, Daisy, something more;something most exquisitely expressed. What was it, Grant?"

"You ought to know, " said the doctor, with a grim smile. 

"I do, I suppose, only I cannot tell the word for it. Daisy, have you ever seen the President before?"

"When he passed through New York, " I said. "I stood in thestreet to see him. "

Dr. Sandford's eyes opened upon me. His sister-in-lawexclaimed, "You could not see him _then_, child. But you like him, don'tyou? Well, they tell all sorts of stories about him; but I donot believe half of them. "

I thought, I could believe all the good ones. 

"But Grant, you never can keep Daisy here, " Mrs. Sandford wenton. "It would be hazardous in the extreme. "

"Not very, " said the doctor. "Nobody else is going to stay; itis a floating community. "

So we parted for the night. And I slept, the dark hours; butrestlessness took possession of me the moment I awoke. Dr. Sandford's last words rung in my heart. "It is a floatingcommunity. " "Nobody else is going to stay. " I must see Mr. Thorold. What if _he_ should be ordered on, away from Washingtonsomewhere, and my opportunity be lost? I knew to be sure thathe had been very busy training and drilling some of the newtroops; and I hoped there was enough of the same work on handto keep him busy; but I could not know. With the desire tofind him, began to mingle now some foretaste of the pain ofparting from him again when I - or he - should leave the city. A drop of bitter which I began to taste distinctly in my cup. 

I was to learn now, how difficult it sometimes is in new formsof trial, to be quiet and submissive and trust. I used to beable to trust myself and my wants with God; I found at thistime that the human cry of longing, and of fear, was very hardto still. I was ready to trust, if I might only see Mr. Thorold. I was willing to wait, if only we might not beseparated at last. But _now_ to trust and to wait, when all wasin doubt for me; when, if I missed this sight of my friend, Imight never have another; when all the future was a cloudy seaand a rocky shore; I felt that I _must_ have this one moment ofpeace. Yet I prayed for it submissively; but I am afraid myheart made its own cry unsubmissively. 

I was restless. The days that followed the President's leveewere one after the other filled up with engagements andamusements, - if I can give that term to what had such deepand thrilling interest for me; but I grew only more secretlyrestless with every one. My companions seemed to find it allamusement, the rides and parades and receptions that wereconstantly going on; I only saw everywhere the preparation fora desperate game soon to be played. The Secessioniststhreatened Washington; and said "only wait till the Fourth. "The people in Washington laughed at this; yet now and then Isaw one who did not laugh; and such were often some of thosewho should know best and judge most wisely. Troops weregathered under Beauregard's command not very far from thecapital. I knew the dash and fire and uncompromising temper ofthe people I was born among; I could not despise their threatsnor hold light their power. My anxiety grew to see Mr. Thorold; but I could not. I watched and watched; nothing likehim crossed my vision. Once, riding home late at night from agay visit to one of the neighbouring camps, we had drawnbridle in passing the grounds of the Treasury Building, wherethe Eleventh Massachusetts regiment was encamped; and slowlywalking by, were endeavouring to distinguish forms and soundsthrough the dim night air - forms and sounds so novel inWashington and so suggestive of interests at stake and dangersat hand; when the distinct clatter of a horse's hoofs in fullgallop came down the street and passed closed by me. The lightof a passing lamp just brushed the flying horseman; not enoughto discover him, but enough to lift my heart into my mouth. Icould not tell whether it were Mr. Thorold; I cannot tell whatI saw; only my nerves were unstrung in a moment, and for therest of that night I tossed with impatient pain. The idea ofbeing so near Mr. Thorold, was more than I could bear. Oneother time, in a crowd, I heard a bit of a laugh whichthrilled me. My efforts to see the person from whom it camewere good for nothing; nobody like my friend was in sight, ornear me; yet that laugh haunted me for two days. 

"I do not think Washington agrees with Daisy, " Mrs. Sandfordsaid one morning at breakfast. 

"She never looked better, " said the doctor. 

"No. Oh, I don't mean that; she looks all herself; yes, she isin great beauty; but she is uncommonly abstracted anduninterested. "

"Not being in general a sensitive person, " observed Dr. Sandford. 

I explained that I had never been more interested in my life;but that these things made me sober. 

"My dear Daisy!" Mrs. Sandford laughed. "You were neveranything but sober yet, in all your little life. I should liketo see you intoxicated. "

I felt on dangerous ground and was silent. The doctor askedwhy? - to Mrs. Sandford's last speech. 

"No matter!" said the lady. "The first man she loves will knowwhy. "

"The first, " said Dr. Sandford dryly. "I hope she will notlove more than one. "

"She will be an uncommonly happy woman then, " said Mrs. Sandford. "Nonsense, Grant! every woman loves two or threebefore she has done. Your first liking will come to nothing, -Daisy, my dear, I forewarn you; - and most probably the secondtoo; but no one will be the wiser but yourself. Why don't youblush, child? On my word, I believe you are growing pale!Never mind, child; I am not a prophet. "

I believe the blushes came then, and they all laughed at me;but Dr. Sandford asked me very kindly if I was too tired tosee the review that day? I was not tired; and if I had been, nothing would have tempted me to be absent from the review. Iwent everywhere, as far as I could; and Dr. Sandford wasalways with us, indulging every fancy I expressed or did notexpress, it seemed to me. He had to work very hard at othertimes to make up for it; and I thought Washington did notagree with _him_. He looked pale and jaded this day. 

I thought so after the morning's work was done; at the time Ihad no leisure for such thoughts. The morning's work was areview of many thousand troops, by the President. Dr. Sandfordand our friends had secured an excellent place for us, fromwhich we could well see all we wished to see; and I wished tosee everything. For various reasons. The platform where Mr. Lincoln stood had its own peculiar attractions and interests. It held himself, first of all, standing in front, in plainview much of the time. It held besides a group of men that oneliked to look at just then. General Scott was there, and Iknow not how many other generals; the members of the Cabinet, and inferior military officers; and each colonel of theregiments that passed in review, after passing, dismounted andjoined the group on the platform. I looked at these officerswith particular interest, for they and their command weregoing straight across into Virginia expecting active servicesoon. So I looked at their men. While each regiment marchedby, the band belonging to it halted and played. They weregoing to the war. In good earnest they were going now. Thiswas no show of pleasure; it was work; and my heart, it seemedto me, alternately beat and stood still. Sometimes theoppression of feeling grew very painful, obliged as I was tohide carefully the greater part of what I felt. A littleadditional stir was almost more than I could bear. Oneregiment - the Garibaldis, I think, had bouquets of flowersand greens in their hats. I did not indeed notice this, untilthe foremost came just in front of the platform and thePresident. Then the bouquets were taken out from the hats, andwere tossed, in military order, rank by rank, as the filespassed by, to Mr. Lincoln's feet. It was a little thing; buthow it shook me! I was glad of the rush which followed thepassing of the regiment; the rush of people eager to securethese bunches of flowers and evergreens for memorials; thediversion of interest for a moment gave me chance to fightdown my heart-swelling. 

"Daisy! you are - what is the matter? You are not well - youare tired, " - my guardian exclaimed anxiously, as he came backto my side with one of the Garibaldi flower bunches. 

"I am well - you are mistaken, Dr. Sandford, " I made myselfsay quietly. 

"For which side are you so anxious?" he inquired. "You arepaler than you ought to be, at this moment, with a smile onyour lips. I got this for you - will you scorn it, or valueit?"

"You would not waste it upon me, if you thought I would scornit?" I said. 

"I don't know. I am not infatuated about anybody. You may havethe bouquet, Daisy. Will you have it?"

I did not want to have it! I was not amusing myself, as manyand as Mrs. Sandford were doing; this was not an interestinglittle bit of greens to me, but a handful of pain. I held it, as one holds such handfuls; till the regiment, which hadhalted a little while at Willard's, was ordered forward andtook the turning from Pennsylvania Avenue into the roadleading to Virginia. With that, the whole regiment burst intosong; I do not know what; a deep-voiced grave melody from athousand throats, cheering their advance into the quarter ofthe enemy and of actual warfare. I forgot Dr. Sandford then, whose watchful eyes I generally remembered; I ceased to seethe houses or the people before me; for my eyes grew dim withtears it was impossible to keep back; and I listened tonothing but that mellow, ominous, sweet, bitter, strain, tillthe sound faded away in the distance. Then I found that mycheeks were wet, and that Mrs. Sandford was wondering. 

"This is what it is to have an ear for music!" she said. "There is positively no possession which does not bring someinconvenience on the possessor. My dear Daisy, you are inpain; those were not tears of joy; what did that chant say toyour sensibilities? To mine it only sounded strength, andvictory. If the arms of those - _what_ are they? - thatregiment, - if their arms are only constituted proportionatelyto their throats, they must do good fighting. I should thinknothing would stand before them. Daisy, they will certainlybear down all opposition. Are you afraid? Here is the Fourth, and Washington safe yet, for all the Southern bluster. "

"I do not think you had better try to go to the Capitol, " thedoctor put in. 

"What, to see the meeting of Congress? Oh, yes, we will. I amnot going to miss it. "

"Daisy will not?" he asked. 

But Daisy would. I would try every chance. I did not at themoment care for Congress; my wish was to find Mr. Thorold. Atthe review I knew I had little reason to hope for what Iwanted; at the Capitol - after all, what chance there? whenMr. Thorold was drilling troops from morning till night;unless he had been already sent out of Washington. But I wouldgo. If I had dared, I would have expressed a desire to seesome troops drilled. I did not dare. 

I remember nothing of the scene at the Capitol, except the seaof heads, the crowd, and the heat; my intense scrutiny of thecrowd, and the weariness that grew on me. Mrs. Sandford hadfriends to talk to; I only wished I need not speak to anybody. It was a weary day; for I could not see Mr. Thorold, and Icould not hear the President's Message. I was so placed or sosurrounded that it came to me only in bits. Wearily we wenthome. 

At least, Dr. Sandford and I. Mrs. Sandford tried in vain torally us. 

"There is to be a marriage in camp, " she said. "What do youthink of that, Daisy? We can have invitations, we like. Shallwe like? Wouldn't it be a curious scene? Daisy is interested, I see. Grant, no. What is the matter, Grant?"

"I hope, nothing, " said the doctor. 

"Will you go, if I get you an invitation?"

"Who is to be married?"

"La fille du régiment. "

"It takes two, " said the doctor. 

"Oh! The other is a sergeant, I believe; some sergeant of thesame regiment. They are to be married to-morrow evening; andit is to be by moonlight and torchlight, and everything odd;up on that beautiful hill where we were the other day, wherethe trees and the tents make such a pretty mingling with redcaps and everything else. "

"I hope the ceremony will be performed by comet light, too, "said Dr. Sandford. "It ought, to be in character. "

"You do not feel well to-night, Grant?"

"Tired. So is Daisy. Are you tired of Washington, Daisy?"

"Oh - no!" I said eagerly. "Not at all. I like very much to behere. "

"Then we will go and see the sergeant's wedding, " said he. 

But we did not; for the next day it was found to be only tootrue that Dr. Sandford was unwell. Perhaps he had been workingtoo hard; at any rate, he was obliged to confess to being ill;and a day or two more settled the question of the amount ofhis indisposition. He had a low fever, and was obliged to giveup to it. 

CHAPTER IV. 

ON FOOT

Mrs Sandford devoted herself to the doctor. Of course, asudden stop was put to our gay amusements. I could not ride ordrive out any more; nor would I go to entertainments anywhere. The stir and the rush of the world had quietly dropped me outof it. 

Yet I was more than ever eager to be in it and know what wasdoing; and above all, what one was doing. I studied thenewspapers, more assiduously than I had hitherto had time for. They excited me almost unbearably with the desire to know morethan they told, and with unnumbered fears and anxieties. Itook to walking, to wear away part of the restless uneasinesswhich had settled upon me. I walked in the morning; I walkedat evening, when the sun's light was off the avenue and theair a little cooler; and kept myself out of the house as muchas I could. 

It was so that I came upon my object, when I was not seekingit. One evening I was walking up Pennsylvania avenue; slowly, for the evening was warm, although the sun had gone down. Slowly and disconsolately. My heart began to fail me. Ipondered writing a word to Mr. Thorold, now that I wascompletely at liberty; and I wished I had done it at once uponDr. Sandford's becoming ill. Two or three days' time had beenlost. I should have to take the note to the post-officemyself; but that would not be impossible now, as it had beenuntil now. While I was thinking these things, I saw a horsemanriding down the avenue; a single horseman, coming at a fastgallop. I had never seen Mr. Thorold on horseback; yet fromalmost the first sight of this mounted figure my heart saidwith a bound who it was. I stood still by the curbstone, looking breathlessly. I felt more and more sure as he drewnearer, if that can be when I had been sure all along; but, would he know me? Would he even see me, in the first place? Somany ladies walk on Pennsylvania avenue; why should his eyepick me out? and he was riding so fast too, there would be butone instant to see or miss me. I would not like to go againthrough the suspense of that minute, though it was almost toointense to be conscious pain. I stood, all eyes, while thatfigure came on, steady, swift, and moveless, but for the quickaction of the horse's muscles. I dared not make a sign, although I felt morally sure who it was, until he was quiteclose to me; then, I do not know whether I made it or not. Ithink not; but the horse wheeled, just as he was past me; Idid not know a horse could wheel so short; and the rider haddismounted at the same instant it seemed, for he was there, atmy side, and my hand in his. I certainly forgot at that minuteall I had stored up to say to Mr. Thorold, in the one greatthrob of joy. He did not promise to be easily managed, either. 

"Daisy!" was his first question - "Daisy, where have youbeen?"

"I have been here - a while. "

"I heard it from Aunt Catherine yesterday - I should havefound you before another day went over - Daisy, how long?"

I hardly liked to tell him, he looked so eager and soimperative, and so much as if he had a right to know, and tohave known. But he did not wait for the answer; and instead, drawing my arm within his own, bent down to me with looks andwords so glad, so tender, so bright, that I trembled with anew feeling, and all the blood in my heart came surging up tomy face and away again. The bridle was over his other arm, andthe horse with drooped head walked on the other side of him, while Mr. Thorold led me on in this fashion. I do not know howfar. I do not know what he said or what I answered, except inbits. I know that he made me answer him. I was not capable ofthe least self-assertion. What startled me at last out of thisabstraction, was the sudden fear that we might be observed. Ilooked up and said something about it. Only to my confusion;for Thorold laughed at me, softly, but how he laughed - at me. I tried a diversion. 

"Have you been drilling troops to-day?"

"All day; or I should have come to find and scold you. By theway, how long _have_ you been in Washington, Daisy?"

"I should not have thought you would ride such a pace at theend of a day's work - you did not ride like a tired man. "

"I am not a tired man. Didn't I tell you, I had a letter fromAunt Catherine yesterday. I have felt no fatigue since. Whendid you come here, Daisy?"

"Christian, I could not let you know, for I was with myguardian - he is a sort of guardian for the time - and -"

"Well? I know your guardian. Dr. Sandford, isn't he"

"Yes, but he would not like to see you. "

"I don't care whether he likes it or not, Daisy. "

"Yes, but, you see, Christian, it would be not pleasant if hewere to carry me off away from Washington; as he took me fromWest Point last year. "

"To get you away from me?"

"He would, if he suspected anything. "

"Daisy, I do not like suspicions. The best way is to let himknow the truth. "

"Oh, no, Christian!"

"Why not, little one?"

"I would rather my father and mother heard it first from youin person, " I answered, stumbling in my speech. 

"So would I, Daisy; but the times are against us. A lettermust be my messenger; and Dr. Sandford has nothing to do withthe matter. "

"He would think he had, " I answered, feeling the difficultiesin my way. 

"Aren't you my Daisy?" he said, looking down into my face withhis flashing eyes, all alight with fire and pleasure. 

"But that -" I began. 

"No evasions, Daisy. Answer. Aren't you mine?"

I said "yes" meekly. But what other words I had purposed toadd were simply taken off my lips. I looked round, in scaredfashion, to see who was near; but Thorold laughed softlyagain. 

"It is too dark for people to make minute investigations, Daisy. "

"Dark!" said I. "Oh, Christian, I must go home. I shall bemissed, and Mrs. Sandford will be frightened. "

"Will the doctor come after you?"

"Oh, no, he is sick; but Christian, I must go home. "

He turned and went with me, changing his tone, and making avariety of tender inquiries about my situation and my doings. They were something new; they were so tender of me, sothoughtful of my welfare, so protecting in their inquisitivecare; and moreover they were the inquiries of one who had aright to know all about me. Something entirely new to myexperience; my mother's care was never so sympathetic; myfather's never so fond; even my guardian's was never sostrict. Dr. Sandford to be sure had no right to make his carelike this. I did not know that Mr. Thorold had; but I found itwas indisputable. And in proportion it was delightful. We hada slow, very busy walk and talk until within a few doors of myWashington home; there we parted, with a long hand clasp, andthe promise on my part that Mr. Thorold should find me at thesame hour and place as to-day on the next evening. 

Nobody was looking for me, and I gained my room in safety. Iwas very happy, yet not all happy; for the first use I made ofmy solitude, after getting rid of my bonnet and mantilla, wasto sit down and cry. I asked myself the reason, for I did notlike to be in the dark about my own feelings; this time theywere in a good deal of confusion. 

As I look back, I think the uppermost thing was my happiness;this new, delicate, strange joy which had come into my lifeand which I had never tasted so fully or known the flavour ofit so intimately as this evening. Looks and tones, and littlenameless things of manner telling almost more yet, came backto me in a small crowd and overwhelmed me with theirtestimony. Affection, and tenderness, and pleasure; andsomething apart from these, an inexplicable assuming of me anddelight in me as so assumed; they found me or made me veryweak to-night. What was the matter? I believe it was, first, this happiness; and next, the doubt that rested over it andthe certainty that I must leave it. Certainly my weeping washearty enough to answer to all three causes. It was a veryunaccustomed indulgence to me; or not an indulgence at all, for I was not fond of tears; but it did act as a relief. Iwashed away some of my trouble in my tears; the happinesssprung to the surface; and then I could almost weep for joyand thankfulness that I was so happy. Even if the grounds ofmy happiness were precarious, I had trusted God all my lifewith all I cared for; could I not trust Him still? My tearsstopped; and I believe one or two smiles could not be checkedas I remembered some look or word of Mr. Thorold's. 

I was to see him the next evening; and it would behove me tolose no time in telling him all the various matters I hadwished him to understand. It seemed to me there was somethingto reconsider in my proposed communications. I had to tell himthat our correspondence must be stopped. Would he agree tothat? I had thought he would agree, and must, to anything Idesired. To-night assured me that he had a will in the mattertoo, and that his will was strong. Further, it assured me thathe had a right; and knew it. Yet it was impossible that weshould write to each other without my parents' leave; andimpossible that we should gain the leave. Mr. Thorold wouldhave to see the matter as I looked at it; but a doubt cameover me that to make him do so might prove difficult. That wasone thing. Then about my not being an heiress. I suddenlyfound a great dislike in myself to speak to him on thesubject. There was no doubt that it would be right to tell himwhat I had thought to tell him; wrong not to do it; the rightand the wrong were settled; my willingness was not. A littleinner consciousness that Mr. Thorold would relish any handlingof the matter that savoured of the practical, and wouldimprove it for his own ends, made my cheek hot. Yet I musttell him. The thing stood, with only an addition ofdisagreeableness. And what chance should I have, in thestreet?

I meditated a good while, before there suddenly started intomy mind a third subject upon which I had meant to take actionwith Mr. Thorold. I had thought to qualify a little theliberty he had assumed upon our first betrothal; to keep at asomewhat more reserved distance, and make him. Could I? WasMr. Thorold under my management? He seemed to take me underhis. I pondered, but between laughing and rebellion I couldmake nothing of the subject. Only, I resolved, ifcircumstances gave me any chance, to act on my proposedsystem. 

The next day was swallowed up in like thoughts. I tried toarrange my subjects and fix upon one to begin with; but it wasa vain effort. I knew that as soon as I began to get ready formy walk. Things must come as they would. And my cross tides ofpurpose resolved themselves into one long swell of joy, when Idiscerned the figure I was looking for, waiting for me onPennsylvania avenue; too soon, for it was near the place wherewe parted the night before. 

"This is very dangerous -" I said, as we began to stroll upthe avenue. 

"What?" said Mr. Thorold, looking down at me with his eyes asfull of mischief as ever. 

"It is so light yet, and you come so near the house. "

"You walk with other people, don't you?"

"I am not afraid of the other people. "

"Are you afraid of me?" said he smiling; and then growinggrave, "We may have only a few times, Daisy; let us make themost of them. "

How could I start anything after that. I was mute; and Mr. Thorold began upon a new theme. 

"Daisy, how long have you been in Washington?"

"Christian, I _could_ not let you know. I was always hoping tosee you somewhere. "

"Sounds as if you felt guilty, " he said. "Confess, Daisy; youlook as if you were afraid I would be angry. I will not bevery hard with you. "

I was afraid; and he was angry, when I told him. His faceflushed and his eye changed, and turned away from me. 

"Christian, " I said, "I was very unwilling that Dr. Sandfordshould know anything about it; that was my reason. If I hadwritten to you, you know you would have come straight to whereI was; and the risk was too great. "

"What risk?" he said. "I might have been ordered away fromWashington; and then we might never have met. "

"Are you vexed?" I said gently. 

"You have wronged me, Daisy. "

It gave me, I do not know whether more pain or pleasure, theserious grave displeasure his manner testified. Neither painnor pleasure was very easy to express; but pain pressed thehardest. 

"I have been looking for the chance of seeing you; looking thewhole time, " I said. "Everywhere, it was the one thing I wasintent upon. "

"Daisy, it might have been lost altogether. And how many dayshave been lost!"

I was silent now; and we walked some steps together withoutanything more. But the next words were with a return to hisusual clear voice. 

"Daisy, you must not be afraid of anything. "

"How can I help it?" I asked. 

"Help it? - but have _I_ brought those tears into your eyes?"

It was almost worth while to have offended him, to hear thetone of those words. I could not speak. 

"I see you are not very angry with me, " he said; "but I amwith myself. Daisy, my Daisy, you must not be so fearful ofunknown dangers. "

"I think I have been fearful of them all my life, " I answered. "Perhaps it is my fault. "

And with unspeakable joy I recognised the truth, that at lastmy life was anchored to one from whom I need neither fear nordisguise anything. 

"To fear them is often to bring them. " he added. 

"I do not think it will, in my case, " I said. "But, if Dr. Sandford had known you were coming to see me, he might havecarried me off from Washington, just as he did from West Pointlast year. "

"From West Point?" said Mr. Thorold, his eyes making abrilliant commentary on my words; - "Did he carry you awayfrom West Point for any such reason? Is he afraid of me?"

"He would be afraid of anybody, " I said in some confusion, forMr. Thorold's eyes were dancing with mischief and pleasure; -"I do not know - of course I do not know what he was afraidof; but I know how it _would_ be. "

Mr. Thorold's answer was to take my hand and softly draw itthrough his own arm. I did not like it; I was fearful of beingseen to walk so; yet the assuming of me was done in a mannerthat I could not resist nor contravene. I knew how Christian'seyes fell upon me; I dared not meet them. 

"Is the doctor jealous of you, Daisy?" he whispered laughing. I did not find an answer immediately. 

"Does he _dare?_" Mr. Thorold said in a different tone. 

"No, no. Christian, how imperious you are!"

"Yes, " he said; "I will be so where you are concerned. What doyou mean, Daisy? or what does he mean?"

"He is my guardian, you know, " I said; "and he has sharp eyes;and he is careful of me. "

"_Very_ careful?" said Mr. Thorold, laughing and pressing myarm. "Daisy, _I_ am your guardian while you are in Washington. Iwish I had a right to say that you shall have nothing more todo with Dr. Sandford. But for the present I must mind myduty. "

"And I mine, " - I added, with my heart beating. Now it seemeda good opening for some of the things I had to say; yet myheart beat and I was silent. 

"Yours, Daisy?" he said very tenderly. "What is yours? Whatpresent pressure of conscience is giving you something hard todo? I know it will be done! What work is this little soldieron?"

I could not tell him. I could not. My answer diverged. 

"What are _you_ on, Christian?"

"The same thing. Rather preparing for work - preparing others. I am at that all day. "

"And do you expect there will be real work, as you call it?Will it come to that?"

"Looks like it. What do you think of Fairfax Court-house? -and Great Bethel? - and Falling Waters, and so on?"

"That was bad, at Great Bethel, " I said. 

"Mismanagement -" said Mr. Thorold calmly. 

"And at Vienna. "

"No, the troops behaved well. They behaved well, Daisy. I amcontent with that. "

"Do you think - don't be angry, Christian! - do you think thepeople of the North generally will make as fiery fighting menas the people of the South, who are used to fighting, andcommanding, and the practice of arms?"

"When you get a quiet man angry, Daisy, he is the very worstman to deal with that you ever saw. "

"But the people of the North are all accustomed to peacefulemployments?"

Mr. Thorold laughed, looking down at me with infiniteamusement and tenderness mixed. 

"I see what your training has been, " he said. "What will youdo when you have one of those quiet people for your husband?"

"Quiet!" said I. "When your eyes are showering sparks of fireall over me!"

"Daisy, " he said, "those rose leaves in your cheeks are thevery prettiest bits of colour I ever saw in my life. "

"But we are wandering from the subject, " I said. 

"No, we are not, " he said decidedly. "You are my one subjectat all times. "

"Not when you are training soldiers?" I said half laughing. But he gave me a look which silenced me. And it nearly tookaway all the courage I had, for everything I wanted to say tohim and had found it so difficult to say. 

"Christian, " I began again after an interval, "were the troopsthat were sent over into Virginia just now, sent, do yousuppose, to meet Beauregard?"

"I suppose so. "

"You are not going?" - I asked, because the question wastorturing me. 

He looked down at me again, a steady, fixed, inquiring look, that grew very full of affection before he answered, "I hope so, Daisy. "

"You are not ordered!"

"No; not yet. "

"But if you were to go, would you not know it by this time?"

"Not certainly. Some troops will be left here of course, toguard Washington. "

I walked with my heart in my mouth. I knew, what he did notsay, that orders might be issued suddenly and as suddenlyobeyed; with no beforehand warning or after delay. How could Ispeak anything of what had been in my mind to be said? Yet thevery circumstances which made it more difficult made it alsoimperative, to speak them. I fought myself, while Mr. Thoroldsometimes watched me and constantly took care of me, with athoughtful care in little things which was eloquent. 

"Christian" - I began, feeling my voice changed. 

"That is to tell me we must turn homeward?" he said gayly. 

"No; I want to speak to you. But we must turn homeward too. "

"To speak to me? In that voice? Look at me, Daisy. - No, Iwon't hear it now, and not here. We must have somethingbetter. Daisy, go and ride with me to- morrow evening!"

"Oh, I cannot. "

"Yes, Daisy. I ask it of you. Dr. Sandford is in bed. Hecannot go along. Then you can tell me all that is on your mindabout Northern soldiers. "

"Oh, I only thought Christian - You know, I know the temper ofthe Southern people. "

"You will know the temper of the other section of the countrysome day, " he said, with a smile at me which was half seriousand half personal in its bearing. But he made me promise to goand ride with him if I could; and so left me. 

I met Mrs. Sandford as I went into the house. She said she wasglad I kept up my walks; she was sorry I had such a terriblydull time; it was a pity I came to Washington. Dr. Sandfordwas no better, and much worried about me, that I should be socut off from amusement. 

"Tell him I am doing very well, and having time to read thepapers, " I said. 

"Those horrid papers!" said Mrs. Sandford. "They make my hairstand on end. I wouldn't read them; Daisy. "

"But you do. "

"Well, I cannot keep my hands off them when I see them; but Iwish I was where I could never see them. Ever since I readGeneral Beauregard's proclamation, I have been in a fury witheverything South; and it is uncomfortable to be in a fury. Odear! I wish Grant would get well and take us away. Come inand let us have a cup of tea, dear. Isn't it hot?"

I took the tea and bore the talk, till both were done and Icould shut myself into the seclusion of my own room. And tearsdid not come to-night, but dry heart- aching pain instead;with which I struggled till the night had worn far on. Struggled, trying to reason it away and to calm it down byfaith and prayer. Ah me! how little reason could do, or faitheither. For reason only affirmed and enlarged my fears; andfaith had no power to say; they might not come true. Thepromise, "He shall not be afraid of evil tidings, " belongs tothose who have their will so merged in God's will as not to becareful what that will may be. I had not got so far. A newlesson was set me in my experience book; even to lay my willdown; and nobody who has not learned or tried to learn thatlesson knows how mortal hard it is. It seemed to me my heartwas breaking the whole livelong night. 

CHAPTER V. 

ON HORSEBACK

A little sleep and the fresh morning light set me up again. Iwas to ride with Mr. Thorold in the evening; my mind fixed onthat nearest point, and refused for the moment to go further. I heard from Mrs. Sandford at breakfast that Dr. Sandford wasno better; his low nervous prostration continued andthreatened to continue. Mrs. Sandford was much troubled aboutme. All this suited my convenience; even her unnecessaryconcern; for I had made up my mind to tell Mrs. Sandford I wasgoing to ride; but I would not till our late dinner, thatthere might be no chance of her consulting the doctor. Atdinner I mentioned that a friend had asked me to ride and Ihad half consented. Mrs. Sandford looked somewhat startled andasked who the friend might be?

"Another officer, " I said quietly; "his name is Thorold. I sawhim last summer, Mrs. Sandford; and I know about him. He is agood one to go with. "

"I can't ask Grant anything, " she said, looking doubtful. "Heknows everybody. "

"It is not needful, " I answered. "I am going to take theindulgence this once. I think it will do me good. "

"Daisy, my dear!" said Mrs. Sandford - "You are as good aspossible - but you have a will of your own. All youSoutherners have, I think. "

I replied that I was a Northerner; and the talk went to otherthings. Mrs. Sandford left me with a kiss and the injunctionto take care of myself. I was very glad to get off so, for shelooked a little unsatisfied. My way was clear now. I dressedwith a bounding heart, mounted, and was away with Mr. Thorold;feeling beneath all my gladness that now was my time and myonly time for doing all the difficult work I had set myself. But gladness was uppermost, as I found myself in the saddleand away, with Mr. Thorold by my side; - for once free andalone together; - gladness that kept us both still I think;for we exchanged few words till we were clear of the city andout upon the open country. There we slackened bridle, and Ibegan to feel that the minutes were exceedingly precious. Idreaded lest some words of Christian's should make itimpossible for me to do what I had to do. 

"Christian, " I began, "I have things to talk to you about. "

"Well, " said he brightly, "you shall. Will it take a greatwhile, Daisy? Because I have things to talk to _you_ about. "

"Not a great while, I hope, " I said, almost stammering. 

"You shall talk what you will, darling. But wait till we get abetter place. "

I would have liked the place where we were, and the time. Better where the road was rough than where it was smooth;easier where there was something to make interruption thanwhere Christian could give too exclusive heed to me. But Icould not gainsay him; and we rode on, till we came to a pieceof pretty broken ground with green turf and trees. Here Mr. Thorold stopped and proposed that we should dismount; he saidwe should talk more at our ease so. I thought my predeterminedmeasures of dignity could be more easily maintained onhorseback; but I could not bear to refuse him, and he did notmean to be refused, I saw. He had dismounted even while hespoke, and throwing his horse's bridle over the branch of atree, came to lift me down; first throwing his cap on thegrass. Then keeping me in his arms and bending a brilliantinquisitive look on my face, he asked me, "Daisy - is this my Daisy, as I left her?"

I could not help answering a plain yes. Nothing in me waschanged; and come what might, that was true. No other answerwould have been true. And I could not blame him that he heldme fast and kissed me, almost as he had done that first time. Almost; but the kisses were more grave and deliberate now;every one seemed a seal and a taking possession. Indeed thewhole manner of Mr. Thorold had taken gravity and manlinessand purpose; he was changed, as it would have taken muchlonger in other circumstances to change a man. I stood stilland trembled, I believe; but I could no more check him than Icould that first night. 

Still holding me fast, he lifted my face a little and smilingasked me, what Daisy had to say to him? The tone, tender andhappy, was as much as I could bear; more than I could answer. He led me a little way, arranged a seat for me on a greenbank, and threw himself down by my side. But that was veryinconvenient, for he could look up right into my face. 

"Business, Daisy?" he said gayly and tenderly at once. Thetone seemed to . Touch the colour in my cheeks and the droop ofmy eyes. 

"Yes, " I said. "It is business. "

"Well, what, love?"

"Christian, " said I, putting my hand in his, "you know papaand mamma do not know of this. "

"They shall know, as soon as I can write to them, " he answered. "I understand - you do not wish that, Daisy; but see - Icannot leave it unsaid, as long as your thought would leaveit. Till they know, I have only half a right to you. I cannotlive so. "

"You must, " I whispered, - "till this war is over. "

"What then?" said he quickly. "How will that help the matter?"

"Then they may see you for themselves. A letter would not do. "

"If you please, how do you expect I am to live till then?" hesaid smiling. "With half a right to you. "

"Yes - with that, - and without writing to me, " I answered. 

"Daisy!" exclaimed Thorold, raising himself half up. 

"Yes, " I said - "I know - I have been wanting to talk to youabout it. You _know_, Christian, I could not write nor receiveyour letters without my father's and mother's permission. "

"Can _you_ bear that, Daisy?" he asked. 

My heart seemed to turn sick. His words suggested nothing new, but they were his words. I failed to answer, and my face wentdown in my hands. 

"There, is no need of that, darling, " he said, getting one ofthem and putting it to his lips. "Here you are fearing dangersagain. Daisy -with truth on your side and on mine, nothing canseparate us permanently. "

"But for the present, " - I said as soon as I could speak. "Iam sure our chance for the future is better if we are patientand wait now. "

"Patient, and wait?" said Mr. Thorold. "If we are patient now?What do you mean by patience? You in Switzerland, with half ahundred suitors by turns; and I here in the smoke of artillerypractice, unable to see twenty yards from my drill - and _that_, you think, does not call for patience, but you must cut offthe post-office from our national institutions. And to waitfor you is not enough, but I must wait for news of you aswell!"

"Christian!" said I, in desperation - "it is harder for methan for you. "

He laughed at that; laughed and looked at me, and his eyessparkled like a shower of fireworks, and then I was sure thata mist was gathering in them. I could scarcely bear the onething ands the other. My own composure failed. He did not thistime answer by caresses. He got up and paced the turf a littledistance below me; his arms folded, his lips set, and thesteps never slackening. So he was when I could look up andsee. This was worse than anything. And the sun was loweringfast, and we had settled nothing, and our time was going. Iwaited a minute, and then I called him. He came and stoodbefore me, face and attitude unchanged. 

"Christian, " I said, - "don't you see that it is best - myplan?"

"No, " he said. 

I did not know what to urge next. But as I looked at him, hislips unbent and his face shone down at me, after a sort, withlove, and tenderness and pleasure. I felt I had not prevailedyet. I rose up and stood before him. 

"Indeed it is best!" I said earnestly. 

"What do you fear, Daisy?" His look was unchanged and fearednothing. It was very hard to tell him what I feared. 

"I think, without seeing you and knowing you, they will neverlet us write; and I would rather they did not know anythingabout the - about us - till you can see them. "

He took both my hands in his, and I felt how hard it is for awoman to move a man's will when it is once in earnest. 

"Daisy, that is not brave, " he said. 

"No - _I_ am not, " I answered. "But is it not prudent?"

"I do not believe in cowardly prudence, " he said; but hekissed me gently to soften the words; "the frank way is thewisest, always, I believe; and anyhow, Daisy, I can't standany other. I am going to ask you of your father and mother;and I am going to do it without delay. "

"I wish they could see you, " I said helplessly. 

"And as I cannot be present to do my pleading in person, Imust trust you to plead for me. "

"You forget, " said I; "it is against you that you are aNorthern officer. "

"That may depend upon the event of the war, " he said; and Isaw a sparkle again. Wilful and manly as he could be; but hedid not know my father and mother. Yet that last word of hismight be true; what if it were? The end of the war! When mightthat be? and how? If all the Northern army were Thorolds, -but I knew they were not. I felt as if my magazine of wordswas exhausted. I suppose then my face spoke for me. Heloosened his hold of one hand to put his arm round me and drawme to him, with a fine tenderness, both reverent andmasterful. 

"My Daisy" - he said, - "what do you want of me?"

And I could not tell him then. As little could I pretend to bedignified. Pain was too sharp. We drew very close to eachother, and were very silent for those minutes. I would commandmyself, and did, hard work as it was, and though my face layon his shoulder. I do not know how his face looked; when hespoke again the tone was of the gravest tenderness. 

"What do you want of me, Daisy?"

"I think, this, " I said, raising my head and laying my hand onhis shoulder instead. "Suppose, Christian, you leave thequestion undecided - the question of letters, I mean, - untilI get there, - to Switzerland, - and see my father and mother. Perhaps I can judge then what will be safe to do; and if I canwrite, you know I will write immediately. "

"And if you cannot?"

"Then - I will write once, to let you know how it is. "

He stood still, reading my face, until it was a little hard tobear, and my eyes went down. 

"Suppose your father and mother - suppose they are obdurate, Daisy, and will not have me, being a Northern man and in theGovernment service?"

What then? I could not say. 

"Suppose it, Daisy. "

"Well, Christian?" I said, raising my eyes to his face. 

"What will you do?"

"You know, Christian, I _must_ obey my father and mother. "

"Even as I my other duty. Well, we are both soldiers. But whatwould you do, Daisy?"

"Do? -" I repeated. 

"Yes, " he said very gravely, and with a certain determinationto have the answer. 

"I should do nothing, Christian. I should be just the same. "But I believe my cheeks must have answered for me, for I feltthem grow pale. 

"What if they chose a Southern husband for you, and laid theircommands in his favour?"

"I am _yours_ -" I said, looking up at him. I could not say anymore, but I believe Mr. Thorold understood it all, just what Imeant him to understand; how that bond could never beunloosed, what though the seal of it might be withheld. He wassatisfied. 

"You are not brave, Daisy, " he said, holding me again veryclose; "here are these cheeks fairly grown white under mysupposings. Does that bring the colour back?" he addedlaughing. 

"Christian, " I said, seizing my time while my face was halfhidden, "what would _you_ do, supposing I should prove to be avery poor girl?"

"What is that?" said he, laughing more gayly, and raising myface a little. 

"You know what our property is. "

"No, I do not. "

"You know - I mean, you know, my father's and mother'sproperty is in Southern lands mostly, and in those thatcultivate them. "

"Yes. I believe I have understood that. "

"Well, I will never be the owner of those people - the peoplethat cultivate those lands; and so I suppose I shall not beworth a sixpence; for the land is not much without thepeople. "

"You will not be the owner of them?"

"No. "

"Why do you tell me that?" said Mr. Thorold gravely. 

"I wanted you to know -" I said, hesitating and beginning verymuch to wish my words unsaid. 

"And the question is, what I will do in the supposedcircumstances? Was that it?"

"I said that, " - I assented. 

"What shall I do?" said Mr. Thorold. "I don't know. If I am incamp, I will pitch a tent for my wife; it shall have softcarpets and damask cushions; as many servants as she likes, and one in especial who will take care that the others do herbidding; scanty accommodations, perhaps, but the air full ofwelcome. She will like it. If I am stationed in townsomewhere, I will fill her house with things to please her. IfI am at the old farm, I will make her confess, in a littlewhile, that it is the pleasantest place she ever saw in herlife. I don't know what I will do! I will do something to makeher ashamed she ever asked me such a question. "

"Oh, don't!" said I, with my cheeks burning. "I am very muchashamed now. "

"Do you acknowledge that?" he said, laughing and taking hisrevenge. "So you ought. "

But then he made me sit down on the grass again and threwhimself at my feet, and began to talk of other things. Hewould not let me go back to the former subjects. He kept me ina state of amusement, making me talk too about what he would;and with the light of that last subject I had unluckilystarted, shining all over his face and sparkling in his eyeand smile, until my face was in a condition of permanentcolour. I had given him an advantage, and he took it andplayed with it. I resolved I would never give him another. Hehad gone back apparently to the mood of that evening at MissCardigan's; and was full of life and spirits and mischief. Icould do nothing but fall in with his mood and be happy;although I remembered I had not gained my point yet; and Ihalf suspected he had a mind I should not gain it. It was avery bright, short half hour; and then I reminded him it wasgrowing late. 

"Moonlight -" he said. "There is a good large moon, Daisy. "

"But Mrs. Sandford -" I said. 

"She knows you are your own mistress. "

"She _thinks_ I am, " I said. "You know better. "

"You are mine, " said Mr. Thorold, with gentle gravity, immediately. "You shall command me. Do you say go, Daisy?"

"May I influence you in something else?" I said putting myhand in his to enforce my words. 

"Eh?" said he, clasping the hand. "What, Daisy?"

"Christian, I want you not to write to my father and motheruntil I give you leave. " I thought I would let go arguing andtry persuasion. 

He looked away, and then looked at me; - a look full ofaffection, but I saw I had not moved him. 

"I do not see how we can settle that, Daisy. "

"But you said - you said -"

"What?"

"You said just now, you intimated, that my wishes would haveweight with you. "

He laughed a little, a moved laugh, and kissed me. But it wasnot a kiss which carried any compromise. 

"Weight with me? Yes, a little. But with me, Daisy. They mustnot change me into somebody not myself. "

"Would that? -"

"If I could be content to have your faith in secret, or towait to know if I might have it at all? I must be somebody notmyself, Daisy. "

I pondered and felt very grave. Was it true, that Mr. Thorold, though no Christian, was following a rule of action more nobleand good than I, who made such professions? It was noble, Ifelt that. Had my wish been cowardly and political? Must notopen truth be the best way always? Yet with my father andmother old experience had long ago taught me to hold my tongueand not speak till the time came. Which was right? I felt thathis rule of action crossed all my _inner_ nature, if it were notindeed the habit which had become second nature. Mr. Thoroldwatched me. 

"What is it, Daisy? - my Daisy?" he asked with a tenderinquisitiveness, though looking amused at me. 

"I was thinking -" I answered, - "whether you are a great dealbetter than I am. "

"Think it by all means, " he said laughing. "I am certainly agood deal braver. But what else, Daisy? there was somethingelse. "

"That, " said I. "I was thinking of my habit, all my life long, of keeping things back from my father and mother till Ithought it was safe to show them. "

"Are you going to let that habit live? What lessons you willhave to learn, my little Daisy! I could never bear to have mywife afraid of me. "

"Of you!" I said. "I never should. " - But there I stopped insome confusion, which I knew my neighbour enjoyed. I broke upthe enjoyment by standing up and declaring that it was nowtime to go. 

We had a pretty ride home. My mind was disburthened of itsvarious subjects of care which I had had to communicate to Mr. Thorold; and although I had not been able entirely to prevailwith him, yet I had done all I could, and my conscience wasclear. I let myself enjoy, and the ride was good. Mr. Thoroldsaid we must have another; but I did not believe thatfeasible. 

However, it fell out so. Dr. Sandford lingered on in the samedisabled state; his sister-in-law was devoted to herattendance on him; I was left to myself. And it did come topass, that not only Mr. Thorold and I had walks continuallytogether; but also we had one more good ride. I did not trymoving him again on the point of my father and mother. I hadread my man and knew that I could not. And I suppose I likedhim the better for it. Weakness is the last thing, I think, that a woman forgives in men, who ought to be strong. Christian was not weak; all the more he was gentle and tenderand thoughtful for those who were. Certainly for me. Thosedays, those walks, - what music of thought and manner therewas in them! The sort of protecting care and affection I hadfrom him then, I never had from any other at any time. Carethat seemed to, make my life his own; affection that made itsomething much before his own; but all this told, not inwords, which could not have been, but in indescribable littlethings of manner and tone; graces too fine to count andmeasure. Once I had fancied I ought to put more reserve intomy manner, or manage more distance in his; that thought fledfrom me after the first afternoon's ride and never came back. I did not take care for myself; he took care for me. Theaffection that held me as a part of himself, held me also as adelicate charge more precious than himself; and while heprotected me as one who had a right to do it, he guarded mealso as one whose own rights were more valuable than his. Henever flattered, nor praised, nor complimented me; or withrare exceptions; but he showed me that he lived for me, andsometimes that he knew I lived for him. 

What days and walks! The extreme and impending gravity of thetime and the interests at work, lent only a keen and keenerperception of their preciousness and sweetness. Any day ouropportunities might suddenly come to an end; every day theywere welcomed as a special fresh gift. Every evening, as soonas Mr. Thorold's engagements allowed it, he met me on theavenue, and we walked until the evening was as far spent as wedurst spend it so. I basked in a sunshine of care andaffection which surrounded me, which watched me, which cateredto my pleasure, and knew my thoughts before they were spoken. We were both grown suddenly older than our years, Mr. Thoroldand I; the coming changes and chances in our lives brought usto life's reality at once. 

One ride besides we had; that was all. Except one otherexperience; which was afterwards precious to me beyond price. 

As it became known that Dr. Sandford's illness was persistentand not dangerous, and that I was in consequence leading a(supposed) bitterly dull life; it naturally happened that ouracquaintances began to come round us again; and invitations tothis or that entertainment came pouring upon me. I generallyrefused; but once thought it, best, as a blind to Mrs. Sandford, to accept an invitation to ride. Mrs. Sandford asbefore demurred, but would not object. 

"Who is it this time, Daisy?" she asked. 

I named Major Fairbairn; luckily also an officer whom I hadknown the last summer at West Point. 

"Nothing but officers!" she remarked in a dubious tone. "Notmuch else to be had here. "

"And nothing much better anywhere, " I said, "when, one isgoing on horseback. They know how to ride. "

"All Southerners know that. By the way, Daisy, I have heardyesterday of Lieutenant Gary. He is in Beauregard's army. "

"Are you sure?" I asked. 

"Quite, I think. I was told by Mr. Lumpkin; and he knows allthe Southern doings, and people. "

"Then he ought not to be here. " I said. "He may let them knowour doings. "

"_Ours!_" said Mrs. Sandford. "How fierce you are. Is MajorFairbairn South or North? I don't remember. "

"From Maine. "

"Well. But, Daisy, what will your father and mother say toyou?"

There was no use in considering that question. I dismissed it, and got ready for the major and my horse. Mounted, mycompanion asked me, where should we go? I had considered thatpoint; and after a little pause asked, as coolly as I could, where there were any troops drilling in cavalry or artilleryexercises. Major Fairbairn pondered a minute and told me, withrather a rueful countenance. 

"Let us go there first, " I said. "It is an old story to you;but I never saw such a thing. I want to see it and understandit, if I can. "

"Ladies like to see it, I know, " said the major. 

"You think, we cannot understand it?"

"I don't see how you should. "

"I am going to try, Major Fairbairn. And notwithstanding yourhopeless tone, I expect you to give me all the help you can. "

"I think, the less you understand of it, the better, " said themajor. 

"Pray why?"

"Doesn't seem comfortable knowledge, for those who cannot useit. "

"Men think that of many things, " I said. "And they are muchmistaken. Knowledge is always comfortable. I mean, it iscomfortable to have it, rather than to be ignorant. "

"I don't know -" said the major. "Where ignorance is bliss -"

"Ignorance never is bliss!" I said energetically. 

"Then the poet must be wrong. "

"Don't you think poets may be wrong as well as other people, Major Fairbairn?"

"I hope so! or I should wish to be a poet. And that would be avain wish for me. "

"But in these war matters, " I resumed, as we cantered on, "Iam very much interested; and I think all women ought to be -must be. "

"Getting to be serious earnest -" said the major, resignedly. 

I was silenced for a while. The words, "serious earnest, " rangin my heart as we went through the streets. 

"Is it getting to be such serious earnest?" I asked as lightlyas I could. 

"We shall know more about it soon, " the major answered. _His_carelessness was real. 

"How soon?"

"May be any day. Beauregard is making ready for us at ManassasJunction. "

"How many men do you suppose he has?"

"Can't tell, " said the major. "There is no depending, I thinkmyself, on any accounts we have. The Southern people generallyare very much in earnest. "

"And the North are, " I said. 

"It is just a question of who will hold out best. "

I thought I knew who those would be; and a shiver for a momentran through my heart. Christian had said, that the success ofhis suit with my father and mother might depend on how the warwent. And certainly, if the struggle should be at allprolonged and issue in the triumph of the rebels, they wouldhave little favour for the enemies they would despise. How ifthe war went for the North?

I believe I lost several sentences of my companion in thedepth of my musing; remembered this would not do; shook off mythoughts and talked gayly, until we came to the place where hesaid the drilling process was going on. I wondered if it werethe right place; then made sure that it was; and sat on myhorse looking and waiting, with my heart in a great flutter. The artillery wagons were rushing about; I recognised _them;_and a cloud of dust accompanied and swallowed up theirmovements, a little too distant from me just now to give roomfor close observation. 

"Well, how do you like it, Miss Randolph?" my major began, with a tone of some exultation at my supposed discomfiture. 

"It is very confused -" I said. "I do not see what they aredoing. "

"No more than you could if it was a battle, " said the major. 

"Won't they come nearer to us?"

"No doubt they will, if we give them time enough. "

I would not take this hint. I had got my chance; I was notgoing to fling it away. I had discerned besides in the distantsmoke and dust a dark figure on a gray horse, which I thoughtI knew. Nothing would have drawn me from the spot then. I keptup a scattering fire of talk with my companion, I do not knowhow, to prevent the exhaustion of his patience; while my heartwent out at my eyes to follow the gray horse. I was rewardedat last. The whole battery charged down upon the point wherewe were standing, at full gallop, "as if we had been theSecession army, " Major Fairbairn remarked; adding, thatnothing but a good conscience could have kept me so quiet. Andin truth guns and horses and all were close upon us before theorder to halt was given, and the gunners flung themselves fromthe wagons and proceeded to unlimber and get the battery inworking order, with the mouths of the cannon only a few yardsfrom our standing-place. I hardly heard the major now, for thegray horse and dark rider were near enough to be seen, stationed quietly a few paces in the rear of the line of guns. I saw his eye going watchfully from one point to another ofhis charge; his head making quick little turns to right andleft to see if all were doing properly; the horse a statue, the man alive as quicksilver, though nothing of him moved buthis head. I was sure, very sure, that he would not see me. Hewas intent on his duty; spectators or the whole world lookingon were nothing to him. He would not even perhaps be consciousthat anybody was in his neighbourhood. I don't know whether Iwas most glad or sorry; though indeed, I desired nothing lessthan that he should give any sign that he saw me. How well helooked on horseback, I thought; how stately he sat there, motionless, overseeing his command. There was a pause now;they were all still, waiting for an order. I might haveexpected what it would be; but I did not, till the wordssuddenly came out -

"Battery - Fire!"

The voice went through my heart; but my horse's nerves wereimmediately as much disturbed as mine. The order was followedby a discharge of the whole battery at once, sounding as theburst of one gun. My horse, exceedingly surprised, lifted hisfore feet in the air on the instant; and otherwise testifiedto his discomposure; and I had some little difficulty to keephim to the spot and bring him back to quietness. It wasvexatious to lose such precious minutes; however, we werecomposed again by the time the smoke of the guns was clearingaway. I could hardly believe my eyes. There lay the cannon, onthe ground, taken from their carriages; the very carriagesthemselves were all in pieces; here lay one wheel, there layanother; the men were sitting around contentedly. 

"What is the matter?" I exclaimed. 

"The officer in charge of the drill, seeing what mischief hisguns have unwittingly done, you see, Miss Randolph, has takenhis battery to pieces. He will not fire any more while you arehere. By George!" said the major, "I believe here he comes totell us so. "

I wished myself away, as I saw the gray horse leap over someof the obstacles before him and bear down straight towards me. I bowed low, to hide various things. Mr. Thorold touched hiscap gravely, to the major as well as to me, and then broughthis gray horse alongside. 

"Your horse does not like my battery, " he remarked. 

I looked up at him. His face was safely grave; it meantbusiness; but his eyes sparkled a little for me; and as Ilooked he smiled, and added, "He wants a spur. "

"To make him run? I had difficulty enough to prevent his doingthat just now, Mr. Thorold. "

"No; to make him stand still. He wants punishing. "

"Miss Randolph deserves a great deal of credit, " said themajor. "But all Southern women know how to ride; and the mento fight. "

"We are going to have a hard time then, " said Thorold; with awilful presuming on his privileges. 

"But what have you done with your battery?" I asked. 

"Taken it to pieces - as you see. "

"Pray, what for? I thought something was the matter. "

"Nothing was the matter, I am glad to know, " Thorold saidlooking at me. "It is sometimes necessary to do this sort ofthing in a hurry; and the only way to do it then in a hurry, is to practise now when there is no hurry. You shall see howlittle time it will take to get ready for another order tofire. But Miss Randolph had better be out of the way first. Are you going farther?"

The major said he hoped so, and I answered certainly. 

"I shall fire no more while you are here, " Thorold said as hetouched his cap, and he gallopped back to his place. He satlike a rock; it was something pretty to see. Then came anorder, which I could not distinguish; and in an incrediblyshort time wheels were geared, guns were mounted, and thedismantled condition of everything replaced by the most alertorder. The major said it was done very well, and told me howquick it could be done; I forget, but I think he said in muchless than a minute; and then I know he wanted to move; but Icould not. I held my place still, and the battery manoeuvredup and down the ground in all manner of directions, forming invarious forms of battery; which little by little I got themajor partially to explain. He was not very fluent; and I didnot like his explanations; but nevertheless it was necessaryto give him something to do, and I kept him busy, while thelong line of artillery wagons rushed over the ground, andskirted it, and trailed across it in diagonal lines; walkingsometimes, and sometimes going at full speed of horses andwheels. It stirred me, it saddened me, it fascinated me, allat once; while the gray horse and his rider held my eye farand near with a magnet hold. Sometimes in one part of theline, sometimes in another, the moving spirit and life of thewhole. I followed and watched him with eye and heart, till myheart grew sick and I turned away. 

CHAPTER VI. 

IN THE FIRE

My ride with Major Fairbairn made me unsettled. Or else it wasmy seeing Mr. Thorold at his drill. A certain impatienceseized me; an impatience of the circumstances and position inwhich I found myself privately, and of the ominous state andposition of affairs in public. The horizon black with clouds, the grumble of the storm, and yet the portentous waiting andquiet which go before the storm's burst. It irked me to seeMr. Thorold as I had seen him yesterday; knowing ourselvesunited, but standing apart as if it were not so, and telling alie to the world. It weighed on me, and I half felt thatChristian was right and that anything openly acknowledged waseasier to bear. And then Major Fairbairn's talk had filled mewith fears. He represented things as being so verythreatening, and the outbreak of the storm as being so verynear; I could not regain the tranquillity of the days past, dowhat I would. I did a very unwise thing, I suppose, for I wentto reading the papers. And they were full of Northernpreparations and of Southern boastings; I grew more and moreunsettled as I read. Among other things, I remember, was aletter from Russell, the _Times_ correspondent, over which myheart beat wearily. For Mr. Russell, I thought, being anEnglishman, and not a party to our national quarrel, might beexpected to judge more coolly and speak more dispassionatelythan our own writers, either South or North. And the speecheshe reported as heard from Southern gentlemen, and the feelingshe observed to be common among them, were most adverse to anyfaint hope of mine that the war might soon end, or endadvantageously for the North, or when it ended, leave myfather and mother kindly disposed for my happiness. All thewhile I read, a slow knell seemed to be sounding at my heart. "We could have got on with those fanatics if they had beeneither Christians or gentlemen" - "there are neitherChristians nor gentlemen among them. " "Nothing on earth shallever induce us to submit to any union with the brutal, bigotedblackguards of the New England States, who neither comprehendnor regard the feelings of gentlemen. " That was like whatPreston said. I recognised the tone well. And when it wasadded, "Man, woman, and child, we'll die first" - I thought itwas probably true. What chance then for Christian and me?"There is nothing in all the dark caves of human passion, " Mr. Russell wrote, "so cruel and deadly as the hatred the SouthCarolinians profess for the Yankees. " The end of the lettercontained a little comfort in the intimation of more moderatecounsels just then taking favour; but I went back to my fatherand mother, and aunt, and Preston, and others; and comfortfound no lodgment with me. Then there was an extract from aSouthern paper, calling Yankees "the most contemptible anddetestable of God's creation" - speaking of their "mean, niggardly lives - their low, vulgar and sordid occupations" -and I thought, How can peace be? or what will it be when itcomes?

I went out for my usual evening walk, longing and halfdreading to see Mr. Thorold; for I did not like to show him myfears; they gave him pain; and yet at the same time I wantedhim to scold them away. But this time I did not see him. Iwalked the avenue, at first eagerly, then anxiously; then withan intense pressing pain and suspense which could hardly beborne. Neither Thorold nor Thorold's horse appeared among allthe figures moving there; and after walking as long as Idared, I was fain to go home with that pain in my heart. Itseemed, as I went up the stairs to my room, almost as if Icould die at once with it. Yet I had to make my hair smoothand meet Mrs. Sandford at tea, and hear all her little detailsabout Dr. Sandford's illness; which, as they were preciselythe same as those of the day before, had nothing even to holdmy attention for a moment. But I attended. It was necessary. And I eat toast and drank tea. That was necessary too; withevery mouthful a stab of pain, and every little ordinaryincident of the tea-table a wrenching of my heartstrings. Onedoes those things quietly and the world never knows. But Ihailed it as a great relief when Mrs. Sandford rose from thetable. 

"Poor Daisy!" she said. "I must leave you to yourself again -all alone. It's too bad!"

"I like it very well so, " I told her. 

"It mustn't go on, " she said. "Really it must not. You willmope, if you don't already. _Don't_ you, Daisy? Where are allyour admirers?"

She had touched my face caressingly with her fingers, and Ihad to look up and meet her. It was one of the hardest minutesof self-control I ever knew. I met her and answered calmly, even coldly; and she went; and I sat down and shrank, Iremember how I shrank, lowering my head and neck and shouldersin a crushing reaction from the erect self-assertion of themoment before. The next thing, two hands were on my shouldersand a voice whispered in my ear a question, "what was thematter?". So as no other voice ever asked me that question; -with the tender assumption of the right to know, and anequally gentle hint that there was comfort and help somewherenot far off. Now, however, I only started up with terror athearing that voice there; - terror instantly displaced byanother terror at the reason of its being there. I knew, Ican't tell how I knew, by the first glance into Mr. Thorold'sface. 

"Yes, " said he, in a low voice, "I have got orders. "

"Where?" I managed to ask. "To do what?"

"I must take a battery across the country to GeneralPatterson. "

"That will take you out of the way, " I said. 

"Out of the way of what?" said he, drawing me to his breast, and looking down into my face with his hazel eyes sparklingover a depth of something that was not merry. "Out of the wayof what, Daisy?" he repeated. "Out of the way of fighting, doyou mean? Is that your way of being a proper soldier's wife?It is out of your way, love; that is what I think of. "

I hid my face and we stood still. It was no time then to bedignified. 

"How long?" - I whispered at last. 

"Impossible to tell, you know. I could not meet you thisevening. I must be off in an hour. "

"To-night?"

"Yes. "

There was another silence. 

"What is General Patterson doing?" I ventured then. 

"I suppose he has to keep Johnston in order. How long will youstay in Washington? - can you tell?"

"Till Dr. Sandford can travel. - He is no better. "

"Well!" - and a breath of a sigh came then which went to myheart - "Something will be decided before a few days; and thenwe shall know a little better where we stand. I must go!"

He clasped me close and gave me kisses all over my face; but Iwould not have lost one this time. Then he gently put me onthe sofa, pressed his lips to mine one last time, and was outof the room in an instant. I listened to every step in thehall; I heard him open the door and shut it; I heard his footupon the stone steps outside two or three times; and then Ihad lost all. 

I sat very still and stunned for a long time. There seemednothing to do. I could not rouse myself. It was the fear ofbeing found there that roused me at last. I gathered myselfup, and went to my room. Oh days, days! How much one livesthrough. 

I was keen set now for news, army news especially; and I spenthours in studying all the public prints that were within reachof my hand. So contradictory they were, and so confusing, thatthey made me only the more long for actual living advices. Thesecond day, Major Fairbairn came to ask me again to ride; andthough at first I thought I could not, the next feeling ofrestless uncertainty and suspense decided me. Better be on ahorse's back than anywhere else, perhaps. And Major Fairbairnwas not a bad person to talk to. But I had to nerve myselfforcibly to the task of entering upon the subject I wanted. 

"How perplexing the papers are, " I remarked, by way of makingan easy beginning. 

"Find them so?" said the major. "That is because you read allsides. "

"How else can one make up one's mind? How can you know what isthe truth?"

"Apparently you do not know it that way, " said the major, smiling. "No; the way is, to choose your side, and stick toit. Then you stand a chance to be comfortable. "

"But you cannot go into society without hearing more sidesthan one. "

"Silence the wrong. "

"I want to know first which is right. "

"Haven't you found _that_ out yet?" my companion said, with asurprised glance at me. "I thought, Miss Randolph, you were asafe person; all right for the good cause. "

"Oh, yes, of course, that is not the question. I do not wantto hear both sides to decide that. But I mean lesserquestions; movements, probabilities, dangers; the truth ofactual events. _Those_ I want to know about. "

"I am sure, so do I, " said the major. 

"I hoped you could enlighten me, Major Fairbairn. "

"About movements?" said the major. "Well, our forces aremoving; there is no doubt. McDowell is going forward inearnest at last. "

"Against Beauregard?"

"Against whatever he meets; and I suppose Beauregard will meethim. "

"Then there will be a battle?"

"I hope so. "

"Why do you hope so, Major Fairbairn?"

"It is the shortest way to peace, Miss Randolph. But it is notlikely that one battle will do it. "

"I know it will not if the North succeed, " I said; "but how ifthe Southern army should get the better?"

"You aren't a rebel in disguise?" said the major, lookingaskance at me. "Is my reputation in danger, to be riding withyou?"

"It is just as well to look the truth in the face, MajorFairbairn. "

"So it is; you are right there, " said my companion seriouslyenough. "Well, I look for a long tussle of it, whichever waythis particular game goes to-day. It will be well if there isanything left to fight for, by the time it is over. "

"There is always the truth" - I said. 

"The truth gives poor board wages to its servants, though, "said the major. "It is all very well to cry 'victory, ' whenthere is no corn in the hopper. "

"Is it likely that Patterson will fight?" I asked, with myheart in my mouth. I had been trying to get this question out;and it seemed to me now as if every word were as big as two. 

"Humph! - I don't know, " said the major. "I suppose he will, if he can't help it. "

"What do you mean?"

"Why, he has got work enough to do, " said Major Fairbairn. "Idon't know if it is work that he likes. I have some privateacquaintance with the man. His business is to keep Johnstonbusy, so that he will not have leisure to look our way. "

"And suppose Patterson does not do his duty?"

"Then we may have too much on our hands. Beauregard doesn'twant any help just now. " And weary, no doubt, of the subject, the major diverged to some lighter matters of conversation. Itried to answer and make talk, but my heart was very sick. Icould hardly know what he was saying; Beauregard, andPatterson, and Johnston, so ran in my thoughts. I suppose themajor did not find it out, for he seemed very well satisfied, and at parting said that "after the victory" he would come andhave another ride with me. 

So I waited now for news. Dull, dreadful days; long with aninterminable length of quarters and half hours; heavy withfear. They were not many; for the morning but one, I think, after my last ride, a gentleman stopped me in the street totell me that firing had been heard that morning, and McDowellhad, it was thought, met his enemy. I calculated the dayssince I had seen Mr. Thorold; speculated on Patterson'sprobable activity or non-activity, and Christian's consequentplace and duty in the position of affairs; and could only knowthat it was all a confusion of pain. At first I thought to goat once back to the house and give up my walk; but a secondthought of that dull weary waiting inside of walls sent me onup the avenue. I might hear something more; at any rate, theopen sky was a better breathing-place. 

The open sky! Blue and calm as ever; moveless and pure; whilethe grim strife of a battlefield was raging beneath it. Wasthere another struggle where Johnston's forces were opposed byGeneral Patterson? And why could I not leave my cares now, asso many a time I had left them, as I longed to leave them thisminute, - in the hand that upheld that blue sky? I could not. That is to say, I did in some fashion, which kept me fromutterly fainting; but I was not confident; I was not willingthat the will of God should be done irrespective of mine, Ifwrithed from under the pressure of a coming possibility. CouldI help it? My one first earthly joy, the treasure thatgathered up all life's riches for me; could I think of thattreasure being scattered and not know that should be leftpoor? And what if God willed I should be thus poor? Ah, I wasnot ready. 

I had a long, feverish walk, made as long as I could; and camehome with a sort of thirst of heart, and very weary. Mrs. Sandford met me, and I had to turn into the parlour. 

"Grant is a little better, I think, " she said. 

I could not find words to speak to her. If he was better, why, then, he would be taking me from Washington. I knew how itwould be. 

"He is certainly better, " she repeated, with exultation in hervoice; "and now, my dear Daisy, we will get away from thishorrid place. My dear, how - how _grey_ you look! What is thematter? you are tired to death. "

I almost wished I was. However, I commanded myself, and toldher I had been walking far, and it was hot, and no doubt I wasgrey with dust. 

"And do you know, " Mrs. Sandford went on, "they say the attackhas commenced. Firing has been heard from some direction downin Virginia; the doctor told me. "

"Mr. Vinton told me. "

"Did he? while you were out? and you never mentioned it!Daisy, you are the coolest creature! I envy you for that morethan for everything else you have got; though people do say -some people - that Miss Randolph's grey eyes are depths ofdelight. My dear! whose possible encomiums have I hit in yourmemory, that your cheeks are taking up the matter with such adelicious rose colour?"

She did not know what she touched. It was no vanity, but herwords brought up suddenly what Thorold had told his aunt aboutVermont lakes, and all the bitter-sweetness of that evening. My heart swelled. I was very near bursting into tears andastonishing Mrs. Sandford. 

"Daisy, my dear, " she said fondly and half seriously, "you aretoo great a treasure to be risked out of your parents' hands. The responsibility is weighing upon me. I hope Grant will getwell, I am sure, and take us away. What with one sort ofdanger and another, it is really too much. Fancy, what itwould be if we were to lose this battle! Why, the rebels wouldbe here in no time; the doctor said so. "

"Well -" I said. I could not tell all my thought; that in suchan event I would not be anywhere but where I was, for worlds;unless indeed I could be with the army of General Pattersonbefore Johnston. 

"Is Dr. Sandford really better?" I asked. 

"He certainly is; I am so glad! and I will tell him you askedso earnestly about him, and that will make him better still. Yes, we will get away now from this dismal place some time, Ido believe. Do go and lie down, Daisy; and I will send yousome lemonade. "

The lemonade stood by me all day; while I thought of the smokeand the conflict to which no refreshment could come. I couldnot touch the lemonade. 

I cannot tell now whether that day was Friday or Saturday. Ihave tried to recollect, and I cannot. I am not sure whetherit was not Thursday. But I know it was Saturday evening whenthe next thing happened which stands clear in my memory. I wasin my own room, forlornly endeavouring to work some worstedembroidery; - though the sickness of my heart seemed to findits way into my fingers, and it was with pain and difficultythat they pulled the needle in and out. It was only moredifficult to sit still and do nothing; and to read wasimpossible. I sat drawing the wool through the canvass-drawinglong threads of thought at the same time - when Mrs. Sandfordburst in. 

"Daisy! - they say McDowell has had a bad time - they havedriven him back, or something; isn't it dreadful! - and thereyou sit embroidering as quiet as can be. But bless me, child!you haven't a bit of colour. Washington will kill us all yet. "

"Who told you?"

"Doctor Barnard says it's so; it's all through the city. Andif the rebels get the better of McDowell, they'll comestraight here, Daisy, and take Washington. Oh, I wish Grantwas well enough to set right off to-morrow! but he isn't. Howcan you be so quiet? I tell you, our army has been repulsed, and how bad it is nobody knows. "

"We had better wait till somebody does know, " I said. "We havehad repulses before. There was Big Bethel - and Vienna - and agreat many. "

"But this is McDowell and the great army; and Beauregard hashosts at his back. "

"Well! -" I said. 

"But you are dreadfully pale, Daisy. How can you keep soquiet? What are you made of?"

"I do not think they will take Washington, " I said. "I am inno hurry, for my part, to get away. Look - do you say maroonor dark purple for this bit of grounding? I cannot make up mymind. "

Mrs. Sandford dived into the purples and browns of my colouredwools; came back again to McDowell and Beauregard, but cameback quieted, and presently left the room. Then, I put down myneedle and laid my head on the table, and shook from head tofoot with the trembling she had given me. And a longing to seeChristian took possession of me; a sick, crying thirst for thesight, if it were only for a minute; the impatient agony ofself-will. Necessity's bands and manacles put it down after atime. 

The next day was Sunday. I went to church alone, and with myusual average of calm. But I heard some one say to hisneighbour, that there was a great battle going forward - withwhat promise nobody knew. The words sent me home with a sortof half breath. I avoided Mrs. Sandford, took no dinner; andin the afternoon feverishly crept out to church again. The airseemed to me full of bodings. Yet I heard nothing. I sawpeople whisper each other, and nod; I thought good news wasgiven and received, and I breathed a little easier. It was nottill I was coming out from the service that any one spoke tome. I found myself then near a gentleman whom we knew. 

"Glorious news, Miss Randolph!" he half whispered. "GeneralScott will dine with a good appetite to-day. "

"What is the news"

"Oh, a great victory! We have not got the details yet, ofcourse; but it seems all is going right. "

"It _seems_ going right. "

"Yes. You know we have not details yet. There's been heavyfighting, though. "

"Is it a general engagement?"

"Oh, yes! All in that could be in. And some that had nobusiness to be in. They say, Johnston has reinforcedBeauregard; but they are totally routed, I believe. So it issaid. "

"Who says it?"

"The accounts from the battlefield, I presume. They are comingin all the time. The Nation has triumphed. I congratulate you. I know you are loyal. Mrs. Sand- ford will be rejoiced. Goodafternoon. "

It was too sudden, too soon, and too confused. I could notbreathe freely yet. Johnston reinforced Beauregard? That wasjust what Patterson was expected to prevent; ought to haveprevented. Then, probably, Patterson had done no fighting? Iwas pondering, when I suddenly found Major Fairbairn besideme. He belonged with the troops left to guard Washington. 

"Oh, Major, " said I, "what is the news?"

"Firing down in Virginia, -" said the major, laconically. 

"Is it true, that a battle has been won by McDowell?"

"I wish it were, " said he; "but in general it is safe not tospeak of a fight till it is over. "

"Then it is not over?"

"I have not heard that it is. "

"But they tell me a fight has been won. "

"They tell every conceivable thing in war-time, " said themajor. "Don't you know that? It is safe to believe nothing. "

"Has Johnston joined Beauregard?"

"I am afraid he has. The advices seem to put that beyonddisbelief. "

"You are _afraid!_ Then the news means nothing to you; nothinggood, I mean?"

"The rumours mean nothing to me, " said the major, smiling. "The reliable news is really, so far, not much. It is certainthere is a battle going on, Miss Randolph, and a battle alongthe whole line. And it is certain that Patterson had orders tofollow up Johnston, and keep him from troubling us. And I amafraid it is also certain that he has not done it - confoundhim! Excuse me; but a man who don't obey orders deserves tohave people swear at him, Miss Randolph. "

I left the major at a corner, and before I got home, anotheracquaintance informed me that the victory was undoubted, though severely purchased, and that the city was in a state ofexultation. I did not know what to think. I said as little aspossible to Mrs. Sandford; but later in the evening Dr. Barnard came with the details of the day, and the addedintelligence that since seven o'clock the firing hadrecommenced. 

"What for? if the victory is sure?" said Mrs. Sandford; and Iwent to my room feeling that it was not sure. Nevertheless Islept that night. I cannot tell why, or how. Whether it weremost akin to weariness or despair, I slept, and quietly, andthe whole night through. But I know very well that I awakedwith a full sense that it was not to quietness nor peace. Itook up my burden as I got out of bed. 

My room was at the back of the house. Consequently I heard andsaw nothing of the outer world till I came down to thebreakfast-room. Nobody was there yet, and I went to thewindow. The first thing I saw then made my heart stand still. A group was gathered just before the window, on the sidewalk. In the midst a soldier, one of a gay Zouave regiment, not atall gay now, stood talking to a little crowd of listeners;talking in a pouring rain, which nobody seemed to care about. He was wet; his bright uniform was stained and draggled; hehad no musket; and his tasseled cap sat on a head which inevery line and movement expressed defeat and disgrace. So theyall listened who stood around; I read it as well as if I hadheard the words they were hearing. I saw dejection, profoundsorrow, absorbed attention, utter forgetfulness of presentbodily discomfort. I noticed that one man who carried anumbrella had put it down, and stood listening in the rain. Occasionally the soldier raised his arm to eke out his wordswith a gesture; and then moved a step as if to go on, but theyclosed around him again and staid him with eager questions orurgings. I was very near throwing up the sash to ask what itall was; and then I thought, what matter! I should know soonenough, But I could not move from the window; and Mrs. Sandford entering and seeing me there came and looked over myshoulder. I did not know it, till I heard her -

"Good Heavens! - Daisy, my dear, what is the matter?"

"We shall hear presently, " I said, turning away from thewindow. 

"But what is it?" - And Mrs. Sandford first took my place, andthen did what I had been tempted to do; - threw up the sash. 

"What is the matter?" she said. "Is there news. Men, is therenews?"

I do not know what was answered; I did not hear; I had goneinto the middle of the room; but Mrs. Sanford closed thewindow presently and came to me, looking even pale. A rarething for her. 

"Daisy, there is trouble, " she said. 

"Yes, -" I answered. 

"How do you know? They say - they say, the army is all cut topieces!"

I could not speak about it. We knew nothing yet; but Mrs. Sandford went on -

"He says, everybody is killed. All routed and destroyed, thearmy is. Can it be possible?"

I thought it was very possible: I never had doubted but thatthe Southerners - as a body - were the best fighters. But Isaid nothing; while Mrs. Sandford poured out sorrows and fearsand speculations in a breath. I could have smiled, but that Icould not have smiled. We stood still, looking at each other, nobody remembering breakfast. I was thinking, if the cause waslost, where would Mr. Thorold be then. And I ceased to hearMrs. Sandford. 

"But Daisy!" she said suddenly - "the other army -Beauregard's - they will be here directly to take Washington, if all this is true; and it must be true; or that soldierwould not have been out there in the rain. They will be cominghere directly, Daisy. And, bless me! how wicked I am! You arestanding there, patient and pale, and you have had nobreakfast. Come here and let me give you some coffee. Grantsaid he would be down to dinner perhaps; and how angry hewould be. "

We drank cups of coffee, but I do not think either of us brokebread. 

That was a weary day. All the day long new groups were formingand dispersing in the street, telling and talking over thenews; groups of all sorts. Soldiers discoursing to audienceslike the one in the morning; knots of officers; twos andthrees of business men; debating, inquiring, discussing; allunder the dark rain, all with downcast faces and dispiritedbearing. Late in the day Major Fairbairn called. He somewhatreassured us. The carnage was not so great; the loss not sotremendous, as we had at first been told; the damage done notso absolutely overwhelming. 

"Then you do not think Beauregard will come and takeWashington?" Mrs. Sandford asked. 

"I don't know!" the major said, with a smile. "He must bequick about it, or it will be too late. "

"But is this a final settling of the question, MajorFairbairn?" I inquired. "That is what I want to know. "

"We have been whipped, " he said, looking at me. 

"Yes, I know; but the North - will they take this as asettlement of the question?"

"The North!" echoed the Major. "Will they give up, you mean?Not just yet! The Government does not feel like it. Do you?"

"I am so ignorant -" I answered. 

"You must be, - pardon my saying so. Not at all. The sting ofthe whip will make us move faster. Orders are issued alreadyfor the reinforcement and reorganisation of the army. GeneralMcClellan is to take command here; and we will get things upona new basis. "

"Is McClellan the man we want?" Mrs. Sandford inquired. 

"I cannot say. If he is not, we will wait for another. "

"You are very cool, Major Fairbairn!" said the lady. 

"It is the best plan, in July. "

"But it is very hard to keep cool. "

The major smiled and looked at me. 

"What has Patterson been doing all this while?" I asked. Smiles died out of the major's face. 

"_He_ has kept cool, " he said. "Easy - when a man never waswarm. "

"And you think, major, " said Mrs. Sandford, "you really thinkthat the truth is not so bad as it has been reported. Why, Mr. May was positive the rebels would come and take Washington. You think there has not been such dreadful loss of life afterall?". 

"A tenth of the story will be nearer the mark, " said themajor. "But we shall know more particulars to-morrow; and Iwill step in again, as I can, and let you know what I know. Imust not stay now. " And with a bow to me, the major went. 

I did not stop then to inquire what his bow meant. Nor did Ihear Mrs. Sandford's long string of comments and speculations, any further than was necessary to enable me to reply from timeto time with some show of connectedness. I was eagerlycalculating chances, without any basis of data to go upon. Trying to conjecture General Patterson's probable coming duty, and to what it might lead. If his foe had disappeared frombefore him, must he not follow on this way, where (I thought)men were so imperatively needed? If he came, there would befighting for him, certainly, the next time! Beauregard wouldmuster again for the fray; I knew that; and it seemed theUnion army was going to make ready also on its side. IfPatterson and his command staid where he was, to take care ofthat part of the country, perhaps it might be a bloodlesscharge for a while; it might, till the two grand armies shouldencounter once more, and one or the other get the mastery. Then, how long might it be, before these two armies would beready to try another, a third tussle together? and would Mr. Thorold be willing to stay permanently where inaction would behis portion? Twenty such incongruous unreasonable questions Iwas mooting and turning over, while Mrs. Sandford's runningfire of talk made it impossible for me to think to anyconclusion. 

When I went up to my room, however, and got free of her, I satdown to it. There had been no fighting for this bout in thatpart of the army where Patterson commanded and where Thoroldserved. So far he had escaped. Now, if Patterson could only bekept in that region, for a little time, and the questionbetween the North and South be brought to an issue meanwhileand decided here -

I was in a fever of hope and fear, cogitating deeply thingswhich I had no means of knowing or settling, when the questionsuddenly occurred to me, What was I doing? What was I doing?Only, trying to arrange the wheels of Providence; trying tomake peace and war; to kill and to keep alive. I was takingand bearing on my shoulders the burden of the nation's armiesand of their destiny. It fell on my heart all at once, what Iwas doing. And my nerves were straining, even now, to throwaround my beloved the shield of circumstances; to keep himwhere he would be safe; to put my hand between his life and ablow. Could Daisy do that? Was her arm long enough, or her eyeenough far-seeing? In despair and in humiliation both, I fellon my knees. _This_ must be given up. I must leave armies andbattles, yes and every several bullet and cannon ball, yes, yes, and more; I must leave Mr. Thorold's life and heart inother hands than mine. I must put the care of them out ofmine; I must give up even the thought of shielding him, orarranging for him. More. Yes, though it pressed upon my heartwith the great difficulty, I must be willing to have God do, with him and with me, just what He pleased. How else could Ilive, with the struggle before me? How else could I live atall as a believing and obedient child of God? "I must, " and "Iwill, " are not words for a child to say. 

My heart, my heart, how it died within me as I saw my duty! asI saw that it behoved me to give up all, and then wait inpatience to see what the Lord would let me have. My heart diedfirst, and then rose again to the struggle. But those onlyknow what a struggle it is, who, have tried. It seems to me, most people, even Christians, do not try. Yet, to "forsakeall, " the test of discipleship, what is it but to cease saying"I must" and "I will, " about anything, and to hold everythingthenceforth at the will of God. I spent that night on myknees, when I was not walking the floor. I spent it in tearsand in pleading the promises; sometimes almost in despair. ButI reached at last a place of great calm. I gave up insistingupon my own will; and though with every nerve of affectionthrobbing, as it were, I gave up the care of myself and ofThorold; I gave up the disposal of the lives of both. And whenthe calm was once reached, it grew deeper and quieter, and thethrobbing nerves were stilled, and a great burden was takenoff my shoulders. And then, the sense of a love better thanmine, and of a power stronger than mine, stole over my heartwith an infinite sweetness; the parched and thirsty places ofmy spirit seemed to catch the dews of heaven; and stillsoothed and quieted more and more, I went to sleep with myhead upon the bed's side, where I was kneeling. 

CHAPTER VII. 

DETAILED FOR DUTY

I awaked in the peace of one who has laid his burden down. Myjoints were a little stiff, from the position in which I hadslept; my mind was set free. The charge of the rival armiesand their conflicts was no longer on my shoulders; even thecare of individual life and safety I thought no longer tosecure. Myself I was a soldier, in a different army; and I hadbeen forgetting my business and presuming into the General'sprovince. No wonder my nerves were strained and my heartalmost broken. That was now all given up; and I went throughmy morning duties in a quiet that was profound, if it was alsovery humble. I had found the only harbour of rest that can befound on the shores of this world; that one which is enteredby paying the tribute of one's self-will. The tides of thegreat sea do not rise and fall there; the anchorage is good;the winds that weep over the waters bring balm with them; andthe banner that floats at the entrance bears this inscription-

"He shall not be afraid of evil tidings; his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord. "

The first thing I heard from Mrs. Sandford was that he doctorwas almost well, and would come down stairs after breakfast. Iknew what that portended for me; thought I knew; but as Isaid, I had given up the management of myself and my concerns. "If ye be not able to do that thing which is least, why takeye thought for the rest?" I got my worsted and sat down stairsat my work, to be ready to see the doctor when he should come. Mrs. Sandford took post at the window; and so we waited. Theweather to-day was clear and bright; the street full yet ofmotley groups, returned soldiers and gathered civilians, looking however far less dismal than the day before. Mrs. Sandford from the window detailed all she saw; while myworsted needle went in and out to an interrupted refrain - "Heshall not be afraid of evil tidings" - "Why take ye thought?"-

Then Mrs. Sandford said, "Here comes the major, Daisy. Itseems to me he is very attentive -" and in the major walked. 

He gave his hand to me, and his eye glanced at the figure inthe window. I could not help the thought that he wished it notthere. But things too far down had been stirred in me, for alittle surface matter like this to move my calm. 

"What news, major?" my friend asked. 

"Good. How do you do, Mrs. Sandford? I told you yesterday thatit would be good. "

"Yes, but how good is it, Major Fairbairn?"

"Fine. "

"Well, go on and tell us. You are a nice major. "

"Thank you. In the first place, as you may remember I said itwould be, the lists of casualties are greatly reduced. "

"Casualties?" said Mrs. Sandford. "What is that? I am learningso many new things. "

"The lists of the killed and wounded. "

"Oh! That is what a military man calls _casualties_, Daisy, mydear. "

"It is the term in common use -" said the major, lookingsomewhat taken aback. 

"I know. Pray, Major Fairbairn, have the officers of the armythe reputation of making good husbands and heads of families?"

"I have always heard that they did, " said the major, colouringa little and by no means free of his astonishment. 

"I don't see how they can have any sympathy for little commonheartaches and headaches, though, when to be run through thebody is such a trifle. They can't, I think, major. "

"But Mrs. Sandford -"

"For instance, " the lady went on, unmercifully, - "forinstance, Miss Randolph has her head taken off by a cannonball. The doctor and I are desolate; but Major Fairbairn saysit is a 'casualty. ' Or, the doctor himself may be hit by ashot not intended for him, and put out of charge of hishospital for ever. Miss Randolph and I are in ashes; but ourfriend Major Fairbairn says it is only a 'casualty. ' "

"But _friends_, Mrs. Sandford, -" the major began. 

"Everybody has friends, " said Mrs. Sandford. "I was reading inthe paper just now a list of these little accidents. One manhad his leg shattered by a minie ball; it killed him in a fewhours. Another had a charge of grape-shot in his breast; itstruck the spine. _He_ is dead. What is grape-shot, MajorFairbairn?"

The major hastily passed to the sideboard in the other roomand brought me a glass of water. 

"Daisy!" Mrs. Sandford exclaimed. "Are you faint, my dear?These are only casualties. My dear, are you faint? what is thematter? - Bless me, how white you are! What is it?"

I drank the water, and struggled back into composure, at leastoutwardly; being very much surprised at myself. 

"But what _is_ the matter, Daisy? what is the matter? I havesaid nothing in the world. Cannot you bear that?"

"Major Fairbairn was going to tell us something, ma'am, " Isaid, endeavouring to throw my thoughts off. 

"That can wait until you are better. "

"No, " I said, "do not wait. I am well. What were you going tosay, major?"

"Only that things are much better than they were supposed tobe yesterday. "

"You said that before. Please go on. "

"Well, it is always so, " said the major. "At first all thestragglers are counted for lost. Then they come in. They arecoming in now, by scores, all the while. Instead of thousandskilled and wounded, it is found to-day that there are but fiveor six hundred; and without being particularly hard-hearted, Irejoice at it. That is part of what I was going to say. "

The major spoke gravely, and looked at me with an anxiousexpression. I assured him I was better, and begged him to tellus the rest. 

"You have put it all out of my head, Miss Randolph. Will youhave - won't you have - something else? - wine? Pardon me, youhave not regained your usual colour. "

"The best thing would be some more of your good news. I have agreat appetite for good news, after yesterday. "

"Naturally. Well, the rest of my news is very good. Thecountry is answering the call made upon her. "

"The call for fortitude?" said Mrs. Sandford. 

"The call for men, - and for pluck, if you like, " said themajor. 

"More men, " - said Mrs. Sandford. 

"Certainly. We must have men. And from every quarter, whereverwe have heard, there comes an enthusiastic response. Sixtythousand new men have been accepted already by the Government;and they are coming in all the while. There will be a verygreat number of fresh arrivals here in a very few days. MissRandolph, your question is answered. "

"What question, Major Fairbairn?"

"Whether the North would give up, you know. "

"I am glad, " I said. "I am glad!"

"And even in saying it, you grow pale again, Daisy. You arenot well!" Mrs. Sandford exclaimed. 

"Perfectly well. These times are exciting. "

"Rather too exciting. I like the excitement that brings theblood into the cheeks. Do go out and take a walk; you wantfresh air; or yesterday has unstrung your nerves. But you wereso quiet, I thought nothing moved you. Do go and take a walk, Daisy. "

The major added a quiet word of urging, saying that if I couldgo at once, he would see that I did not faint before I gothome. 

I was bewildered, I think, or I should not have gone; but Iwanted to get away from the talk and to feel the fresh air; Iwas stifled; and I went. My nervous perturbation was asurprise to me. I had given up everything, I thought; I wasquite calm, ready for everything. I thought I was; and yet, solittle a word had unsettled me. So I went with the major. Andthen, I was brought to myself presently by more than the freshair; for I found my friend somewhat too happy in his charge, and more careful of me than I chose he should think there wasany occasion for. Moreover, I could not bear to accept hiscare. I summoned my forces and plunged him into a depth ofpolitical and philosophical discussion which he could not getout of till he left me again at my own door. I reassured Mrs. Sandford then; and sat down to my worsted embroidery with aprofound sense of how little my strength was. A few minutesafterwards Dr. Sandford came in. 

I had not seen him now for several weeks; and I never saw himlook better. It immediately struck me, that with him well, itmattered comparatively little whether Mr. Thorold and I werein the same place together or not. Dr. Sandford's clear blueeye was not to be braved with impunity. No more was it to beshunned. But I needed not to shun it. I met it full now. Icould, since last night. The disposal of my affairs, if it wasnot in me, it certainly was not in him. He met me with a smileand a look of pleasure; and sat down by me to watch theprogress of my worsted work. So ostensibly; but I soon knewthat he was watching not my work, but me. 

"How have these weeks been with Miss Randolph? Dull?"

"No, " I said; - "not dull. "

"How have they escaped that?"

"There has been too much to interest, Dr. Sandford. "

"Yet I see you at your Berlin wools. Pardon me - but wheneverI see a lady busy with her needle and a bit of canvass, Ialways think she is hard up for something to think of. Pardonagain, Daisy. I know you have no mercy upon slang. "

"See how mistaken you are, Dr. Sandford. "

"In that? Not in that. "

"No; but in your notions about wool and canvass. "

"They are true!" said the doctor. 

"Ah, but, don't you know that extremes meet?"

"What extremes?"

"All extremes, perhaps. I have been working worsted; for aday or two, just because I had so much to think of. "

"They have been exciting days, " said the doctor slowly, "to asick man who could do nothing. "

"Why not to a woman, for the same reason?"

"Have they tried you very much, Daisy?"

"Why, she was turning faint here a little while ago, " broke inMrs. Sandford, "because I was giving an account of somewounded soldiers I had read about in the papers; and the majorand I persuaded her to go out and take a walk to recoverherself. "

"The major? - that is indefinite, though you use the definitearticle. What major?"

"Oh, we have a number of military friends. They have kept usalive since you have been shut up. What is this one, Daisy? Heis a very good one. Major Fairbairn. "

"Fairbairn? I do not know him, " said the doctor. 

"It is not necessary that you should know everybody, " said hissister-in-law. "Daisy knows him very well. "

"And likes him -" said the doctor; "or he could not have ashare in persuading Miss Randolph to anything. "

"Yes, I like him, " I said. I thought, the more friends in thearmy I had, the better; and also, that Dr. Sandford must notbe permitted to push his lines too far. 

"Who _is_ Major Fairbairn?"

"I do not know; he is from Maine or New Hampshire, I think. "

"Your parents, Daisy, would not desire these Northernassociations for you; would they?"

I do not know with what calm I faced the doctor and answeredhim. "These Northern associations" - the words touched theinnermost beatings of my heart - if such an expression can beused. Yet I looked at Dr. Sandford in absolute calm, knowingall that the doctor did not know, and spoke with perfectcomposure. 

"I cannot escape them, you know, Dr. Sandford, unless I wereto go over to the enemy's lines; and I cannot do that. "

"I would not wish that, " said the doctor. 

"Then your feelings continue all with the Northern men, Daisy?"

"All -" I said. 

I went back to my worsted work, but I had a sense that thedoctor was studying me. One cannot judge, of course, of one'sown manner, or know what is in it; so I cannot tell what hadbeen in mine. The doctor sat and considered me; I thought, insome perplexity. 

"Daisy's feelings are appreciated and returned by the Northernmen, " Mrs. Sandford said, laughing. "Rides and walks - howmany rides and walks have you taken, Daisy, these forlornweeks, with officers of the Northern army? Oh! they are notungrateful. "

Dr. Sandford made no answer, and when he spoke I knew he wasnot making answer to these words. But they startled me. 

"Is there anybody engaged in this struggle, Daisy, that youare concerned for?"

"Certainly!" I said; - "several. "

"I was not aware -" the doctor began. 

"Some whom you know, and some whom you don't know, and on bothsides. "

"You have a cousin, I believe, somewhere in the Southern army. He was at West Point, if I remember. "

"Preston Gary. I do not know where he is now, only he is amongthem. They say, he is with Beauregard. I was very fond of him. Then there is my brother; he either is with them or he willbe; and there are still others. "

"On the Southern side, " said the doctor. 

"Those two are on the Southern side, " I said. "Others are onthe Northern. I am there myself. "

"Not exactly in the struggle, " said the doctor; "and yet, I donot know. These women!"

I think the doctor was baffled by my perfect quietness andreadiness. He spoke presently in a disengaged manner, -

"Mr. Ransom Randolph is in no danger at present. I know from aword in a late letter from your father, that he is in Europestill. Would you not like to get out of this confused state ofthings, and join them there?"

"I would like better to go if it was peace here, " I said. 

"Would you? Then you are not afraid lest the rebels shouldtake Washington and confiscate the whole of us?"

"Major Fairbairn thinks the danger of that is past. "

"He does! However, other dangers might arise -"

"I knew you would not think Washington very safe ground forus, " Mrs. Sandford rejoined. 

"Mrs. Sandford is at her own risk. But I should hardly bedoing the duty of a good guardian if I risked anything, whereso important a charge is committed to me. I shall get you awayfrom here without delay. How soon can you both be ready?"

I wanted to say I was ready, but I could not get out thewords. My two friends debated the matter, and the doctor fixedhis own time. The day after to-morrow. 

It was good for me, that I had given up the charge of my owninterests; or I never could have maintained the ease of mannerwhich it was desirable to maintain in face of thisproposition. I was very calm, remembering that "a man's heartdeviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps. " I went onwith my worsted stitching under the eye of the doctor. I donot know why he watched me so. 

"Has anybody ventured to tell you, Miss Randolph, that youhave changed within a few months?" This question was put afterI had forgotten the doctor and was marching somewhere before abattery in Patterson's column. I started a little. 

"Yes, indeed! has she not?" exclaimed Mrs. Sandford. "Changed!She came out of school the dearest little schoolgirl that everlived; or I should say, she went back to school so, last year. What has the year done to you, Daisy?"

"What _has_ it done to me?" I replied, smiling at her. "How am Ichanged?"

"Changed!" Mrs. Sandford repeated. "Tell her, Grant, what isshe now?"

"She would not thank me for telling her, " said the doctor. 

"But I will thank you, Mrs. Sandford, " I said. "I _was_ 'thedearest little schoolgirl. ' "

"My dear, you are not that now, " Mrs. Sandford said solemnly. 

"It all comes to this, Daisy, " said the doctor. "You are apsychological puzzle to me. For the matter of that, now Ithink of it, you always were. When you went to visit MollySkelton, and carried rose-bushes round the country in yourpony-chaise, just as much as now. You are not the same Daisy, however. "

"Yes, I am; just the same, " I said earnestly. 

"Fancy it!" said Mrs. Sandford. "My dear, you do I not seeyourself; that is clear. "

"I would like to do the same things again, " I insisted. Butthat nearly choked me. For a vision of myself in my happypony-chaise; the free, joyous child that I was, ignorant ofsoldiers and wars, further than as I knew my dear CaptainDrummond; the vision of the Daisy that once was, and couldnever be again; went nigh to shake all my composure down. Theemotion came with a rush, and I had nearly succumbed to it. 

"Miss Randolph has a philosophy, " the doctor went on, stillwatching me, - "which is not common to the world, and which Ihave hitherto in vain endeavoured to fathom. I have alwaysfancied that I should be happier if I could find it out. "

"Did I never tell you what it was, Dr. Sandford?"

"Never - intelligibly. You will excuse me. I do not mean toaccuse you, but myself. "

"But you know what it is, " I said, facing him. "My philosophy, as you call it. It is only, to live for the other worldinstead of this. "

"Why not live for this world, while you are in it, Daisy?"

"I am not going to stay in it. "

"I hope, very long!" said the doctor - seriously. "And do younot think that people are meant to enjoy this world, whilethey have it?"

"Yes, when they can, " I answered; remembering vividly thatenjoyment is not always the rule. "But I enjoy the worldbetter than you do, Dr. Sandford; because, living for theother, I take the good of both. And if this fails at any time, the other - cannot. "

Dr. Sandford's blue eye went as deep into mine, and into me, Ithink, as it could; and he did not look satisfied. 

The preparations for our journey were pressed with a diligencethat admitted of no delay, all that day and the next. I wasquietly busy too, thinking that it did not matter; that thetime must come, and as well then as ever. 

I had miscalculated my strength, or my weakness. Or perhapsthe emotional part of our nature is never to be depended on. That dim morning of our early departure is fixed in my memoryas one of the most heart-sinking times my heart ever knew. Mycompanions were brisk and bright, in travelling mood, takingcars and porters and ticket offices and crowds, as pleasantconcomitants of a pleasant affair. Glad to get away fromWashington, both of them. And I, alone in my heart, knew whata thread was breaking for me; knew that Thorold's path andmine were starting from that point upon divergent lines, whichwould grow but further and further apart every day. Until thatmoment I had not realised what it would be, to leave theneighbourhood of his work and his danger, and cut off all butthe most distant and precarious communication between him andme; what it would be, too, to him, to know that I was gone. Itdid seem then for a minute as if I could not go; as if I must, as necessity, remain within hailing distance of him, and atthe headquarters of information. But there was another "must, "stronger than mine; I was seated in the car, the whistle blewits mockery of me; and the slow movement which immediatelyfollowed was the snapping of the thread, - the parting of thelines. It was something that no human action could stay oravert now; and the gentle motion soon grew to a whirl of speedwhich bore me relentlessly away. The slow pang of that firststir of the cars, I can feel yet. 

It was a dumb pain at my heart all day. I could not understandmyself. For several days I had been quiet and prepared, Ithought, and submissive; now to-day all was disorder; nopreparedness; no quiet. Instead were heartaches and regretsand wild wishes; sometimes in dull and steady force, like astill rain storm; and sometimes sweeping over me with the furyof a tempestuous blast. I had not strength to resist; myutmost was to keep a calm front before my friends. I did that, I think. But what torture is it not, to be obliged to hear andanswer all manner of trifling words, to enter into everytrivial thought, of people at ease around one, when the heartis bending and bowing under its life burden; to be obliged tocount the pebbles in the way, when one is staggering to keepone's footing at all. Yes, and one must answer with adisengaged face, and one must smile with ready lips, andattention must not wander, and self-absorption for a minutecannot be allowed. Perhaps it was good for me. 

My companions attended to me well, so that I got no respiteall day. Not till night, when I reached my room; and when Ihad respite, I found no rest. It was great relief to put myhead down without fear lest somebody should ask me if itached; but all night long I struggled with the pain that hadfought me all day. The next morning I went to find MissCardigan. To my great disappointment she was not at home; andwould not be at home, I was told, under a week. 

I passed slowly in, over the familiar stones of the marblefloor, in through the empty rooms, to the innermost one whichopened upon the little conservatory. That too was stripped ofits beauties; most of the plants were set out in the openground, and the scaffolding steps were bare. I turned my backupon the glass door, which had been for me the door to so muchsweetness, and sat down to think. Not only sweetness. Howstrange it was! From Miss Cardigan's flowers, the connectinglinks led on straight to all my sorrow and heartache of thepresent and perhaps of many future days. They had led me here;and here Mr. Thorold had said words to me that had bound himand me together for the rest of our lives, and made hiswelfare my welfare. And now, he was in the shock ofbattlefields; and I - afar off - must watch and listen. And Icould not be near and watch. I must be where even good newswould be no news, except of the past; where nobody would speakto me of Mr. Thorold, and where I could not speak of him toanybody. I was sure, the more I thought of it, that the onlypossible chance for a good issue to our engagement, would beto wait until the war should be over; and if he persisted inhis determination of speaking to my father and mother beforesuch a favourable conjuncture, the end would be only disaster. I somewhat hoped, that the pressure of active duty on hispart, or some happy negligence of post-office officials, orother contingency, might hinder such a letter as he hadthreatened from coming to my father's hands at present. 

Meanwhile, in Miss Cardigan's little room, I struggled for aright mind. If I was sorrowful, I told myself, I was alsoglad. If I pitied myself a little for all that had happened, it was also true that I would not have undone it - that is, mypart in it, - for the world. I would rather belong to Mr. Thorold, even through all this pain, than be nothing to himand have him nothing to me. Yes, even going away on my distantjourney to Europe, the knowledge of his love was a richerjewel in my heart than any other of earth's jewels that Icarried. So what was I crying about?

I washed away some of the soreness of the days past in thosetears. And then I came quietly back to my position; willingthat God should dispose of me and do with me what He pleased;send me away or bring me home; give or take from me. At leastso far I was willing, that I gave up all care-taking andceased to struggle. My mood grew even sunshiny as I walkedback to the hotel where we were all stationed. Hope began toexecute little dances before me. 

The doctor was busy now, I understood, with trying to findsome party with whom I might make the journey to Switzerland. Mrs. Sandford was eager to get back to Melbourne, or itsneighbourhood; I always called the whole region by that name. How I wished I could be allowed to go with her, and wait theretill an opportunity offered for my further journey! But suchwere not the views of my guardian. 

"Here's devotion!" exclaimed Mrs. Sandford as I came in to teaone evening. "My dear, he says he will go with you himself. "

"Where? - who?" I asked. 

"Why, Grant, to be sure. He says he will go with you, himself, and then his mind will be easy. "

"How can he?" I said. "An army surgeon, - how can he getaway?"

"Yes, and in war-time, " said Mrs. Sandford. "But the truth is, that he needs to get away, he says; he is not fit for duty;and the voyage over and back will just set him up. I think itis a capital plan, for my part. He won't be gone any length oftime, you know; and indeed he must not; he will just runacross and put you in the hands of your friends; and so yourpassage is engaged, Daisy, in the _Persia_. I only wish I wasgoing along, but I can't. I advise you never to marry Grant. It ties one up terribly. "

"It does not tie _you_ very close, " the doctor answered. 

"When does the _Persia_ go?" I asked. 

"Yes, indeed; that _is_ a question, " said Mrs. Sandford. "Justthink - she sails Saturday, and this is Thursday. Only onesingle day for you, Daisy; but after all, it is best so. Youcan be ready just as well, and the sooner you are off now thebetter. I shall miss you dreadfully, though. "

I felt my cheeks turn cold, and I busied myself with my cup oftea. 

"You are not so eager to be off, Miss Randolph, as my goodsister is to have you, " I heard the doctor say. 

"No, not quite. I would like better to go if all this troublein the country were ended. "

"That would be to wait some time, I am afraid, said thedoctor, helping himself to a piece of toast. And I do not knowwhat in his motion and his manner of speech conveyed to me thenotion that he was glad I could not wait. And, my mother'schild though I was, I could not thwart him this time. 

"It is a good time to be away, _I_ think, " said Mrs. Sandford. "I'd keep the news from her, Grant, if I were you. She sitsand studies the papers as if her life were in them. "

"There will be no news on board the steamer, " said the doctor. 

Yes, I knew that. The very beginning of my journey was to cutme off from tidings. How should I get them in Switzerland? AndI must go too without seeing Miss Cardigan. Well, I thought, nothing can take my best Friend from me. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

DAISY'S POST

Dr. Sandford and I stood together on the deck of the steamer, looking at the lessening shore. I was afraid the doctor shouldsee how I looked, yet I could not turn my eyes from it. I hadgiven up the care of myself; I could bear to see Americafading out of my sight; yet it seemed to me as if I left Daisyand her life there, and as if I must be like a wanderingspirit from another world till I should come back to thoseshores again. I would minister to my father and mother, butnobody would minister to me. And I thought it was very likelyvery good for me. Maybe I was in danger of growing selfish andof forgetting my work and all happiness except my own andThorold's. I could do nothing for either of those now; nothingactively. But I called myself up as soon as that thoughtpassed through me. I could always pray; and I could be quietand trust; and I could be full of faith, hope and love; andanybody with those is not unhappy. And God is with his people;and he can feed them in a desert. And with that, I went downto my stateroom, to sob my heart out. Not altogether insorrow, or I think I should not have shed a tear; but withthat sense of joy and riches in the midst of trial; thefeeling of care that was over my helplessness, and hope thatcould never die nor be disappointed sin spite of the manyhopes that fail. 

After that, my voyage was pleasant, as every voyage or journeyis when one goes in the Lord's hand and with Him for acompanion. I had no news, as the doctor had said, and I laiddown all the matter of the war; though I was obliged to hearit talked of very much and in a way that was often extremelyhard to bear. The English people on board seemed to think thatAmericans had no feeling on the subject of their country, orno country to feel about. Certainly they showed no respect formine; and though Dr. Sandford and one or two other gentlemencould and did answer their words well and cogently, and therewas satisfaction in that; yet it was a warfare I did notchoose to enter into unless good breeding could be a defenceon both sides. They abused Mr. Lincoln; how they abused him!they have learned better since. They abused republics ingeneral, rejoicing openly in the ruin they affected to seebefore ours. Yes, the United States of America and theirboasted Constitution were a vast bubble - no solidity - rathera collection of bubbles, which would go to pieces by their owncontact. Specially the weight of dislike and maligning fell onthe Northern portion of the country; sympathy was with theSouth. These natives of the free British Isles wereunmistakably disposed to cheer and help on a nation ofoppressors, and wished them success. It was some time before Icould understand such an anomaly; at last I saw that theinstinct of self-preservation was at work, and I forgave asnatural, what I could not admire as noble. 

This element in our little society troubled somewhat myenjoyment of the voyage. I _had_ some patriotic nerves, if I wasan American; and every one of them was often tingling withdisagreeable irritation. Besides, ill-breeding is of itselfalways disagreeable enough; and here was ill-breeding in well-bred people, - worst of all. And I had my own private reasonsfor annoyance. A favourite theme with the company was the wantof soldiers or generals at the North, and the impossibilitythat a set of mechanics and tradesmen, who knew only how tomake money and keep it, should be able in chivalrous andgentlemanly exercises to cope with the Southern cavaliers, whowere accustomed to sword and pistol and the use of them fromtheir youth up. Bull Run, they said, showed what theconsequence must always be, of a conflict between soldierswith the martial spirit and soldiers without it. It would bemuch better and cheaper for the North to succumb at once. Ihad Southern prejudice enough to believe there might be a gooddeal of truth in this, but I could not bear to hear it or tothink it; for besides the question of country and right, theruin of the North would be disaster to Mr. Thorold and me. Ishunned at last all conversation with our English companions, as far as I could, and bent my thoughts forward to the joyfulmeeting which lay before me with father and mother andbrother. Brighter and brighter the prospect grew, as each daybrought it nearer; and I sat sometimes by the hour lookingover the waters and resting my heart in the hope of thatmeeting. 

"Almost in, Miss Randolph, " said the doctor, coming to my sideone of those times. 

I brought my eyes from the dancing sea, and answered "You areglad. "

"Very glad. "

"What route will you take, when we get to land?"

"The shortest. "

"You do not wish to see anything by the way?"

"I can see enough, after I get to them, " I answered. 

"You are at a happy time of life!" the doctor said after apause. 

"Are you past it, Dr. Sandford?" I asked, replying, I think, to something in the tones of his voice. 

"I do not know. I think, yes. Cologne cathedral will never beto me what it will be to you. "

"What will it be to me?"

"I wish you would tell me, when you see it. "

"Does it lie in our route?" I asked somewhat eagerly. 

"It can - if you choose. "

"But I should not want to stop to look at it, " I said; "and Icould not see it without stopping, I suppose. "

"I suppose not. Well, we will push forward as fast aspossible. To Lausanne, is it?"

"They _were_ at Lausanne. They were talking of going toLucerne. "

"To stay?"

"For some time, I think. Papa was getting tired of Lausanne. We shall know as soon as we reach our port. "

"Wonderful things will crowd upon you now, Daisy, " the doctorsaid meditatively. "And you are as ready for them as ever. "

"Don't they crowd upon everybody?" I said, remembering whatstrange ones life had lately brought to me. 

"Everybody does not see them - does not know it. You have thispeculiarity, that you will not fail to note every one thatcomes within your knowledge. Europe will be a wonder galleryto you. And life, perhaps. "

"Oh, life is now, Dr. Sandford. "

He had been looking very grave. He smiled at me then, one ofhis bright, winsome smiles that the child Daisy used to get. It made my heart sore with longing for him, and sorrow. 

"Isn't it a wonder, that I live, and that I shall live forever?" I said. "That this world is only the portal to glory?Isn't it a wonder, that there is a highway from these lowgrounds to Heaven's court, and that the gates of brass andbars of iron that stopped the way, are broken asunder? Isn'tit a wonder, that the Prince of Heaven came down to open theway and to show it to us? and is there any wonder so great, asthat, after this, any mortal should refuse to walk that way?"

"Grant Sandford, to wit!" said the doctor with an oddexpression, something between pleased and displeased. "I amafraid, Daisy, he would want an angel to go before him afterall. "

I remember this little talk well, for it puzzled me and didnot seem like Dr. Sandford. I remember nothing else of anyinterest till we came to Switzerland and I was near myjourney's end. We had pushed on, sometimes by night and day;stopping only for necessary meals and refreshment. I wanted nodelay. When we reached the glories of the Swiss mountains, even yet distant, my mood oddly changed, and I was no longerin a hurry. My life, I knew, would take a new turn, in amongthose mountains somewhere; and it might not, I had a shrewdsuspicion that it would not, be a turn for my ease andcomfort; and even while I was as eager as ever to see myfather and mother, at the same time I was willing to take thelast steps of the way more slowly, and enjoy what I had andwhat I hoped for together, before reality should displaceanticipation. This is my understanding of the mood as I lookback to it; at the time I did not reason, but only wasconscious of being ready to linger and willing to lose nothingof novelty and beauty on my way. However, lingering was notpossible. By one conveyance and another we pushed our way on, till Lucerne, our place of destination, was reached. 

I saw nothing in the town, almost literally, while we weremaking our way through its streets. I was in a breathlessstate; my senses could not play, or my mind could receive noimpression from them. It was disappointment and relief too, when coming to the house where my father and mother lived, wewere told that the family were gone out of town on someexcursion and would not be back till evening. The servantstold us. This was no hotel, but a nice little private housewhich my father had hired and where he and my mother wereliving entirely at home. 

I knew I was at home, as my feet pressed the stairs going upto the little drawing-room. "At home. " Not since we leftMelbourne had the exquisite sensation come over me. It camenow like a subtle perfume, pervading and surroundingeverything. My eyes filled with tears of great joy, as Imounted the stairs. I would not let Dr. Sandford see them. He, I knew, felt like anything but crying for joy. He wascertainly very honestly fond of me and of my company, and Iwas grateful for it. 

The servant led us to a little drawing-room, out of whichanother opened; over the simple furniture of which my mother'shand had thrown a spell of grace. And luxurious enjoyment too;that belonged to her. A soft rug or two lay here and there; ashawl of beautiful colour had fallen upon a chair-back;pictures hung on the walls, - one stood on an easel in acorner; bits of statuary, bronzes, wood-carvings, trifles ofart, mosaics, engravings, were everywhere; and my mother'spresence was felt in the harmony which subdued and united allthese in one delicious effect. My mother had almost anOriental eye for colour and harmony. It was like seeing a bitof her, to be in her room. I lost my head for a moment, standing in the middle of the floor; then I turned to Dr. Sandford. 

"Now you are happy, " he said, extending his hand - "and I willleave you. "

"No, Dr. Sandford - you will sit down and be happy too. "

"You could command me to sit down, undoubtedly; but I amafraid my happiness is beyond your power. "

"I wish it was not!" I said earnestly. "You have been verygood to me, Dr. Sandford. "

His face flushed a little and paled, and the eyes which wereso fond of reading other people's seemed now to shun beingread. I could not understand his expression, but it troubledme. 

"Happiness is always beyond other people's power, " I said; -"but not beyond one's own. "

"That's your confounded theory!" he answered, bringing theword out very gingerly and with a little laugh. "I beg tenthousand pardons, Daisy; but a slight expression ofindignation was an unavoidable indulgence just then. You wouldmake every one responsible for all the troubles that come uponhim!"

"No - only for their effect upon his happiness, " I ventured, doubtfully. 

"You think the effect of troubles upon happiness is thenoptional!" - he said, with a humorous expression so cool andshrewd that I could not forbear laughing. 

"I do not mean exactly that. "

"Your words were well chosen to produce that impression. "

"No, Dr. Sandford - yes, perhaps they were; - but the realtruth is, that we may have a happiness that is beyond thereach of trouble. So much is optional. "

"With Daisy Randolph, " said the doctor. "For the rest of theworld, a brown study will never be a golden reflection. " Heheld out his hand as he spoke. 

"But are you going?" I said; - "before my father and mothercome home?"

"I will call before I leave Lucerne. "

"How soon do you expect to do that?"

"Immediately, Daisy; to-morrow. I must hasten back to my post, you know; before there is another Bull Run, if possible. It isvery good that you are out of the way of such things, " hesaid, eyeing me earnestly. "The very mention of them - do youknow what it does?"

"It gives me a great feeling of pain, I know, " I said, tryingto rally. 

"It does that, I see. I did not know the power of imaginationwas so strong in you. I thought you were rather a literalist. "

"And I think I am, " I answered as calmly as I could. "It doesnot require much imagination. It did not, when I was inWashington. "

"It does not now, " said the doctor; "for your cheeks have notgot back their colour yet. What banished it, Daisy?"

It was the old tone and look I used to meet in my childhood, and to which I always then rendered obedience. For an instantthe spell was upon me now; then I threw it off, shook handswith the doctor and parted from him with a bow and smile whichtold him nothing. And he succumbed in his turn; made me aprofound reverence and left the room. 

My first feeling was of gladness that he was gone. My nextwas, the sense that I was under my natural guardians oncemore. I felt it with a thrill of delight, even though I had afull consciousness that I was going to be far less my ownmistress than for some time I had been accustomed to findmyself. Dr. Sandford rather took laws from me, in most things. This however did not give me much concern. I went round therooms to quiet myself, for I was growing more and moreexcited. I went studying one by one the objects in the littlehome museum, for such those drawing-rooms were to me. I read, not natural history but family history in them; here myfather's hand had been, here By mother's, leaving some tokenof study, or luxury, or art, or feeling. A very handsomemeerschaum seemed to give also a hint of my brother'spresence. The home review did not quiet me; I found it wouldnot do; I went to the window. And there I sat downimmediately, to hear all that nature said to me; as once MissCardigan's flowers. 

I had expected to see the town; and it was part of the town nodoubt that stretched away before me, but it had rather thebeauty of the country. There was nothing regular in streets orbuildings, nor compact; the houses scattered away down thehill, standing here and there, alone and in groups, withfields or pieces of fields intermingling. Pretty houses, withquaint dormer windows and high sloping roofs. We were on aheight, I found, from which the eye went down delightfullyover this bit of the rambling old town. A courtyard, withgrass and young trees, was the first thing next the house onthis side; which I found was not the front; then the groundfell sharply, and most of the houses stood upon a level belowbordering the lake. A stretch of the lake lay there, smooth, still, bearing the reflection of some houses on its oppositeedge; where softened under a misty atmosphere another littletown seemed to rest on a rising bank. And then, just behindit, rose the mountain, looking down upon lake and towns as ifto forbid a thought of foolishness in any one who should everlive there. So, in its beautiful gravity, Mont Pilatte seemedto me, then and always. Are not mountains always witnesses forGod? This first time I saw it, a misty cloud had swept acrossthe breast of the mountain and hid part of the outline; butthe head lifted itself in sunlight just above the veilingcloud, and looked down in unspeakable majesty upon the lowerworld. Always my eyes went back to that wonderful mountainhead; then fell to the placid lake and the little townsleeping in misty sunlight on its further border; then caughtthe sharp pointed towers of a church or cathedral close by atmy left hand, just within my picture; I could not see thewhole church; then back to the soft veiled mountain. A morepicturesque combination never went into a view. I sat still ina trance of pleasure, only my eyes moving slowly from point topoint, and my heart and soul listening to the hidden melodieswhich in nature's great halls are always sounding. I dobelieve, for the matter of that, they are always sounding innature's least chambers as well; but there is the tinkle of asilver bell, and there is the thunder of the great organ. Atany rate I was quieted, comforted, soothed, and entirelymyself again, by the time I had listened to Mont Pilatte for acouple of hours. 

The day wore on, and the lights changed, and the clouddeepened on the mountain. The lights had not begun to fadeyet, though it was the time of long shadows, when a littlebustle below and steps on the stairs drew me away from thewindow and brought me to my feet; but I stood still. The firstone was mamma, and her first word of course broke the spellunder which I had been standing and brought me into her arms. And that word I pondered many a time afterwards. It wassimply, "Why, Daisy!" - but the letters put together tellnothing of what was in the expression. Pleasure and affectionthere were, of course; and there was something beside, which Icould not help thinking gave token of gratified surprise. Whatshould have excited it I do not know, unless it were that myappearance pleased her better than she had expected. It wasnot surprise at my being there, for the servants had told ofthat. My father, who was next, said exactly the same words;but his "Why, Daisy!" had an altogether different expression. I flung myself into his arms, and then almost broke my heartwith the thought that I had been so long out of them. Myfather pressed me very close, and kept very still. I felt mymother touch me on the shoulder, and heard her tell me not tobe so excited; but I could not mind her. And papa, sittingdown, kept me in his arms and held me fast and kissed me, andI sobbed myself into content. 

"Is that Daisy?" said mamma. I was sitting on papa's knee yet. I looked up at her. She was standing beside us. 

"Doesn't she look like it?" my father said, fondly, strokingmy hair. 

"She does not act like it, " said my mother. 

But I hid my face in papa's neck at that, and he kissed meagain. 

"Don't you mean to speak to anybody else?" said mamma, with anamused voice. 

"Nobody else has any right, " said papa. I looked up however, eagerly, and saw what I could only guess was Ransom, he had sogrown and changed. He was looking curious and pleased. I gotup to salute him. 

"Why, Daisy!" said he, returning my embrace with more new thanold emotion as it seemed to me, - "you are a sister of whom afellow may be proud. "

"Can't you say as much for him, Daisy?" said my mother. 

"As far as looks go -" I answered slowly, surveying him. Hewas excessively handsome, and his mother's own boy in grace ofperson and manner. I could see that in the first moment. 

"As far as looks go" - my mother repeated. "_That_ is likeDaisy. Is it the very same Daisy?"

I looked up at her, and they looked at me. Oddly enough, wewere all silent. Had I changed so much?

"Mamma, there is the difference between ten and seventeen, " Isaid. "I don't think there is much other. "

"And between formed and unformed, " said my brother Ransom; formy father and mother were still silent, and I could hardlybear to meet their eyes. 

"What is formed, and what is unformed?" I asked, trying tomake it a light question. 

"My opinion is not unformed, " said Ransom, - "and your destinyis - formed. "

"Papa, " said I, "Ransom is very quick in deciding upon mydestiny. " But with that look into each other's eyes, Ransom'swords were forgotten; my father clasped me in a fresh fondembrace and my head went down upon his shoulder again. And wewere all still. Words are nothing at such times. I think onerather speaks light words, if any; thoughts are too deep tocome out. At last my mother remarked that our toilettes wereamong the unformed things, and suggested that we should go toour rooms for a little while before dinner. I got up frompapa's knee and followed mamma; and passing Ransom with asmile, he suddenly clasped me in his arms and kissed me. 

"I am proud of you, Daisy, " he whispered. 

Arrived in mamma's room, her tenderness came out after her ownfashion. She examined me; her hands touched me caressingly;she helped me to dress, although her maid was at hand. 

"You did not tell me you had such beautiful hair, " she said, when I had unbound it to put it in order. 

"Mamma!" I laughed. "Why should I?"

"And there are a great many other things you have not toldme, " she went on. I had to control myself to prevent a start, though her words meant nothing. 

"Of course, mamma, " I answered. 

"Yes; you could hardly have been expected to give me acatalogue raisonné of your advantages. Do you know themyourself, Daisy?"

"Mamma, - I suppose I know some of them. "

"Do you know, for instance, that your skin is exquisite, incolour and texture?"

"Mrs. Sandford used to tell me so, " I said. 

My mother drew the tips of her fingers over my cheek. 

"And now, at my saying that, comes a little rose hue here, asdelicate as the inside of a shell. But you have lost all thelook of delicate condition, Daisy; this is the colour ofperfect health. "

"Dr. Sandford has taken care of me, mamma. "

"Your father trusted a great deal to Dr. Sandford. Do youthink his trust was well placed?"

"Nobody could have taken more care of me, mamma. Dr. Sandfordhas been very good. "

"He always was your favourite, " she remarked. 

"Well, mamma, he deserved all I have given him. "

"Don't give anybody much, - unless I bid you, " my mother said, laughingly. "Daisy, you have matured better even than I everthought you would, or than your aunt Gary told me. Your figureis as good as ever mine was. "

She took up one of my hands, looked at it, kissed it, and asshe let it drop asked carelessly, -

"What has become of Preston now?"

I felt as if breakers were all around me. "He has joined theSouthern army, " I said. 

"When did you see him?"

"Not since a year ago. "

"Where then?"

"At West Point, mamma. He only graduated this spring. "

"Were you long at West Point?"

"Yes, ma'am - some weeks. "

"Dr. Sandford did not show remarkable care in that. "

"He thought so, mamma, for he found me not well, and took meaway immediately from school, without waiting for the term toclose. Mrs. Sandford and he, were going to West Point - and so-"

"West Point did you good?"

"I grew well there. "

"Your aunt tells me, your voice is very uncommon, Daisy. Isshe right in that?"

"Mamma - you can judge better than I. It is not so easy for meto judge how it sounds. "

"You know how it sounds to you. "

"Yes, but then I am thinking of the music. I cannot tell, mamma, how it sounds to other people. "

"Well, we shall be able to judge by and by, " my mother said, in a satisfied tone. "Your speaking voice is as calm and sweetas I ever heard. "

"_Calm?_ mamma, " I said, laughing. 

"Yes, child. Don't you know most people's voices have a littlethread, if it is not more, of sharpness or roughness, comingout somewhere. It is sure to come out somewhere; in one formof speech or another; with some people it only appears in thelaugh, and they should never laugh. Your voice is like a chimeof bells. " And my mother took me in her arms, half-dressed asI was, and pressed her lips full upon mine; looking into myface and playing with me and smiling at me; finishing withanother pressure of her mouth to mine. 

"Your lips are very sweet, " she said, with a half sigh. "Iwonder who else will think so!"

And if one bit of vanity or self-exaltation could have beenstirred in my thoughts, though it were by my mother's praises, these last words banished it well. I was sobered to the depthsof my heart; so sobered, that I found it expedient to be busywith my dressing, and not expose my face immediately to anymore observations. And even when I went down stairs, myfather's first remark was, -

"It is the same Daisy!"

"Did you doubt it, papa?" I asked, with a smile. 

"No, my pet. "

"Then why do you say that as soon as I make my appearance!"

"I can hardly tell - the consciousness forced itself upon me. You are looking at life with a microscope, - as of old. "

"With a microscope, papa!"

"To pick up invisible duties and find out indiscernibledangers -"

"When one is as old as I am, " I said, "there is no need of amicroscope to find out either dangers or duties. "

"Ha!" said my father, folding me in his arms - "what dangershave you discovered, Daisy?"

"I believe they are everywhere, papa, " I said, kissing him. 

"Not here, " he said, fondly; "there shall be none here foryou. "

"Mr. Randolph, " said mamma, laughing, "if Daisy is to be meatand drink as well as scenery to you, we may as well dispensewith the usual formalities; but I hope you will condescend tolook at dinner as usual. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

SKIRMISHING

That first dinner at home! how strange and sweet it was. Sosweet, that I could scarcely hear the note of the littlewarning bell down in the bottom of my heart. But mamma hadstruck it up stairs, and its vibrations would not quite bestill. Yet there was a wonderful charm in my own home circle. The circle was made larger in the evening, by the coming in oftwo of Ransom's friends, who were also, I saw, friends of myfather and mother. They were two Southern gentlemen, as Iimmediately knew them to be; MM. De Saussure and Marshall, Ransom's worthy compeers in the line of personal appearanceand manner. De Saussure especially; but I liked Marshall best. This I found out afterward. The conversation that eveningnaturally went back to America which I had just come from, andto the time of my leaving it, and to the news then new thereand but lately arrived here. I had to hear the whole Bull Runaffair talked over from beginning to end and back again. Itwas not so pleasant a subject to me as to the rest of thecompany; which I suppose made the talk seem long. 

"And you were there?" said Mr. De Saussure, suddenly appealingto me. 

"Not at Manasses, " I said. 

"No, but close by; held in durance in the capital, withliberators so near. It seems to me very stupid of Beauregardnot to have gone in and set you free. "

"Free?" said I, smiling. "I was free. "

"There will be no freedom in the country, properly speaking, until that Northern usurper is tossed out of the place heoccupies. "

"That will be soon, " said my mother. 

"In what sense is Mr. Lincoln a usurper?" I ventured to ask. "He was duly elected. "

"Is it possible Daisy has turned politician?" exclaimed mybrother. 

"He is not a usurper, " said Mr. Marshall. 

"He is, if being out of his place can make him so, " said DeSaussure; "and the assumption of rights that nobody has givenhim. By what title does he dare shut up Southern ports andsend his cut-throats upon Southern soil?"

"Well, they have met their punishment, " my father remarked. And it hurt me sorely to hear him say it with evidentpleasure. 

"The work is not done yet, " said Ransom. "But at Bull Runrates - 'sixty pieces of splendid cannon' taken, as Mr. Davissays, and how many killed and prisoners? - the mud-sills willnot be able to keep it up very long. Absurd! to think thatthose Northern shopkeepers could make head against a few dozenSouthern swords. "

"There were only a few dozen swords at Manasses, " said DeSaussure. "Eighteen thousand, Mr. Davis puts the number in hisRichmond speech; and the Northern army had sixty thousand inthe field. "

"A Richmond paper says forty thousand instead of eighteen, "Mr. Marshall remarked. 

"Mr. Russell, of the London _Times_, estimated Beauregard'sforce at sixty thousand, " I said. 

"_He_ don't know!" said De Saussure. 

"And Mr. Davis does not know, " I added; "for the whole loss ofcannon on the Northern side that day amounted to butseventeen. Mr. Davis may as well be wrong in one set of factsas in another. He said also that provisions enough were takento feed an army of fifty thousand men for twelve months. "

"Well, why not?" said Ransom, frowning. 

"These gentlemen can tell you why not. "

"Pretty heavy figures, " said Mr. Marshall. 

"Why are they not true, Miss Randolph?" Mr. De Saussure asked, bending as before a most deferential look upon me. 

"And look here, - in what interest are you, Daisy?" my brothercontinued. 

"Nothing is gained by blinking the truth anywhere, Ransom. "

"No, that is true, " said my father. 

"Daisy has been under the disadvantage of hearing only oneside lately, " my mother remarked very coolly. 

"But about the provisions, Miss Randolph?" Mr. De Saussureinsisted, returning to the point with a willingness, Ithought, to have me speak. 

"Mamma says, I have heard only one side, " I answered. "But onthat side I have heard it remarked, that twelve thousandwagons would have been required to carry those provisions tothe battlefield. I do not know if the calculation wascorrect. "

Mr. De Saussure's face clouded for an instant. My fatherseemed to be pondering. Ransom's frowns grew more deep. 

"What side are you on, Daisy?" he repeated. 

"She is on her own side, of course, " my mother said. 

"I hope there is no doubt of that, Mrs. Randolph, " said Mr. Marshall. "Such an enemy would be very formidable! I shouldbegin to question on which side I was myself. "

They went off into a long discussion about the probablemovements of the belligerent parties in America; what might beexpected from different generals; how long the conflict waslikely to last, and how its certain issue, the discomfiture ofthe North and the independence of the South, would beattained. Mingled with this discussion were laudations ofJefferson Davis, scornful reviling of President Lincoln, andsneers at the North generally; at their men, their officers, their money, their way of making it and their way of spendingit. Triumphant anticipations, of shame and defeat to them andthe superb exaltation of the South, were scattered, like asalt and pepper seasoning, through all the conversation. Ilistened, with my nerves tingling sometimes, with my heartthrobbing at other times; sadly inclined to believe they mightbe right in a part of their calculations; very sadly sure theywere wrong in everything else. I had to keep a constant guardupon my face; happily my words were not called for. My eyesnow and then met papa's, with a look that gave and receivedanother sort of communication. When the evening was over, andpapa was folding me in his arms to bid me good-night, hewhispered, -

"You and I cannot be on two sides of anything, Daisy?"

"Papa - you know on what side of most things I am -" I repliedto this difficult question. 

"Do I? No, I do not know that I do. What side is it, Daisy?"

"On the Lord's side, papa, when I can find out what that is. "

"Make me sure that you have found it, and I will be on thatside too, " he said, as he kissed me. 

The words filled me with a great joy. For they were not spokenin defiance of the supposed condition, but rather, as itseemed to me, in desire and love of it. Had papa come to that?The new joy poured like a flood over all the dry places in myheart, which had got into a very dry state with hearing theconversation of the evening. I went to bed tired and happy. 

Nevertheless I awoke to the consciousness that I had a nicepiece of navigation before me, and plenty of rough water inall probability. The best thing would be for me to be assilent as possible. Could I be silent? They all wanted to hearwhat I would say. Every eye had sought mine this past evening. 

I was the first in the breakfast-room, and papa was the next. We were alone. He took me tenderly in his arms and held mefast, looking at me and kissing me by turns. 

"Are you well now, papa?" I asked him. "Are you quite wellagain?"

"Well enough, " he answered; "not just as I was once. "

"Why not, papa?"

"I have never quite got over that unlucky fall. It has left myhead a little shaky, Daisy; and my strength - Never mind! youare my strength now, my pet. We should have gone home beforethis, only for the troubles breaking out there. "

I leaned my head upon his breast, and wished the troubles werenot! What a division those troubles made, unknown to him, between his heart's happiness and mine - yes, between him andme. Mamma came in and looked at us both. 

"It is a very pretty picture, " she said. And she kissed me, while papa did not let me out of his arms. "Daisy, you are abeauty. "

"She is a great deal better than a beauty, " said my father. "But, now I look at you, Daisy - yes, you _are_ a beauty, certainly. "

They both laughed heartily at the colour which all this raisedin my face. 

"Most exquisite, her skin is, " said my mother, touching mycheek. "Did you ever see anything superior to it, Mr. Randolph? Rose leaves are not any better than that. Pshaw, Daisy! - you must get accustomed to hear people say it. "

"Nobody shall say it to me, mamma, but you. "

"No, " said my father. "That is my view of it, too. "

"Nonsense!" said mamma - "there are a thousand ways of doingthe same thing, and you cannot stop them all. Your hair is asfine as possible, too, Daisy, although it has not had me totake care of it. "

"But I did just as you told me with it, mamma, " I said. 

She kissed me again. "Did nobody ever tell you you werebeautiful?" she asked archly. "Yes, I know that you did justas I told you. You always did, and always will. But did younot know that you were beautiful?"

"Speak, Daisy, " said papa. Said as it was with a smile, itbrought childish memories vividly back. 

"Mamma, " I said, "I have heard something of it - and I supposeit may be true. "

They laughed, and mamma remarked that I was human yet. "Thereis a difference between the child and the woman, you willfind, Mr. Randolph. "

Papa answered, that it was no very remarkable token ofhumanity, to have eyes and ears. 

"Daisy's eyes were always remarkable, " said my mother. 

"But, mamma, " said I, "in other things there is no differencebetween the child and the woman. My outside may have altered -my mind is not changed at all; only grown. "

"That will do, " said mamma. 

I was obliged to leave it to time, and hoped to make myself sopleasant that what I could not change in me might be at leasttolerated, if it were not approved. It seemed an easy task! Iwas such a manifest subject of joy, to father and mother, andeven Ransom too. A newly discovered land, full of gold, is notmore delightfully explored by its finders, than I was watched, scrutinised, commented on, by my family. 

That first day, of course, they could not let me out of theirsight. It was nothing but talk, all day long. In the eveninghowever our last evening's guests reappeared. The conversationthis time did not get upon American politics, so everybodyshowed to better advantage; I suppose, myself included. We hadmusic; and the gentlemen were greatly delighted with my voiceand my singing. Mamma and papa took it very coolly until wewere left alone again; then my mother came up and kissed me. 

"You have done your duty, Daisy, in improving your voice, " shesaid. "You are a Daisy I am perfectly satisfied with. If youcan sing as well in public as you have done to-night inprivate, papa will be proud of you. "

"In public, mamma?" I said. 

"Yes. That does not frighten you. Nothing does frighten you. "

"No, mamma, but - what do you mean by 'in public'?"

"Not on the stage, " said mamma. 

"But mamma, - papa, " - I said, anxiously, "this is what I wantyou to understand. I will do anything in the world you wish meto do; only, I am - I must be, - you know, - a servant ofChrist. "

"I said nothing against that, " my mother replied. But myfather, clasping me in his arms, whispered, -

"We will be servants together, Daisy. "

That word sent me to bed with a whole heartful ofthankfulness. I could bear anything now, if his words meantwhat I hoped they did. And I should have security, too, against any too great trial of my affection and duty to himand to mamma. 

An expedition had been arranged for the next day; in which mybrother and his friends were to take me upon the lake. Mammaand papa would not go. It was a day, in one sort, of suchpleasure as I had never known till then. The beautiful water, the magnificent shores of the lake, the wonderful lights onthe mountains, almost took me out of this world; to which theyseemed scarcely to belong. I cannot tell what a pang in themidst of this pleasure the thought of Mr. Thorold brought withit. The life I was living now was so very far from his life, and so unlike; my part of the world was now so very distantfrom his, - there was such an abyss between; - and yet theSwiss hills were so glorious, and I was enjoying them. I beganto wonder, as we were sailing towards home in the end of theday, what work I had to do in this new and strange place; whywas I here? Perhaps, to learn patience, and have faith growstrong by trial, while all my life hopes waited upon a willthat I did not know and must trust. Perhaps, to stand up forChristian truth and simplicity in the face of much opposition. Perhaps, to suffer, and learn to bear suffering. 

"You are fatigued, Miss Randolph?" said the soft voice of DeSaussure. 

"Or beauty of scenery, so much beauty, makes you melancholy, "said Mr. Marshall. "It always makes me so, if I let myselfthink of it. "

"Why should it make any one melancholy?" I asked. "I thinkbeauty has the contrary effect. "

"A little beauty. But very great and wonderful loveliness - Idon't know why, it always moves me so. It is something too farbeyond me; it is unlike me; it seems to belong to anotherstage of being, while I am held fast in this. It mocks me, -somehow. "

"It does not do so with me, " I said. 

"Ah, it is your world!" De Saussure said, laughing. "It couldnot do so with you very well. "

"But look at Mont Pilatte now, " resumed Mr. Marshall, - "withthat crown of light on its brow; - does it not give you thefeeling of something inapproachable - not literally butspiritually, - something pure, glorious, infinite - somethingthat shames us mortals into insignificance?"

I looked, and I thought I knew why he felt as he did; but Idid not think I could explain it to him just then. 

"Have you a little of my feeling?" he said again. "Do youunderstand it?"

"I understand it, I think, " I said. 

"And do not share it at all?"

"No, Mr. Marshall. Of course, the mountain is great, and I amsmall; but the purity, and the glory, - that is not beyondreach; and no human being ought to be insignificant, and noneneed be. "

"Not if his life is insignificant?"

"Nobody's life ought to be that, " I answered. 

"How can it be helped, in the case of many a one?"

"Yes indeed, " said De Saussure; "there is a question. I shouldlike to hear Miss Randolph answer it. "

One spoke lightly and the other earnestly. It was not easy toanswer them both. 

"I should like to have you define insignificance first, " Isaid. 

"Can there be a more significant word?" said Mr. De Saussure. "It defines itself. "

"A life of insignificance, is a life that does not signifyanything, " Mr. Marshall added. 

"Most people's lives signify something, " I said, stupidly, mythoughts running on far ahead of my words. 

"Yes, to somebody in the corner at home, " Mr. Marshall said, "whose affection cannot make a true estimate. But do mostpeople's lives signify anything, except to some fond judgmentof that sort?"

"Who is estimating you, in a corner at home?" said Mr. DeSaussure. 

"Nobody - and that you know. Nobody, except my old mammy. "

"You are a lucky fellow, Hugh. Free as air! Now I have five orsix dear appraisers at my home; who are of opinion that anepaulette and a commission would add to my value; or rather, to do them justice, they are very desirous to have my life -or my death - tell for something, in the struggle whichoccupies all their, thoughts at present. I do not mean thatthey have no choice, but, one or the other. And so am Idesirous; but - Lucerne is so very captivating! And really, as, I said, one signifies so little. "

"One is half of two, " said Ransom - "and a hundredth part of ahundred. "

"I should like, I think, to be half of two, " said De Saussure, comically. "I don't care about being the hundredth part ofanything. "

"But you are going when I go?" said Ransom. 

"Mrs. Randolph says so; and I suppose she will command me. What does Miss Randolph say?"

"Yes, to my question, " said Hugh Marshall. 

"I do not quite know what is either question, " I replied; "anda judge ought to understand his cause. "

"Is it my duty to go and plunge into the męlée at home, because my mother and two aunts and three sisters are alltelling me they will renounce me if I do not? I say, what doesone signify?"

"And _I_ say, how may one escape from insignificance? - anyhow?"

"A man with your income need not ask that, " said Ransom. 

"What does Miss Randolph say?" De Saussure insisted. 

"If you will tell me, Mr. De Saussure, what the South isfighting for, I can better answer you. "

"That speech is Daisy all over!" said Ransom impatiently. "Shenever will commit herself, if she can get somebody to do itfor her. "

"Fighting for freedom - for independence, of course!" Mr. DeSaussure said, opening his eyes. "Is there any question?"

"How was their freedom threatened?"

"Why, " said Ransom, hotly, "what do you think of armies uponthe soil of Virginia? - invading armies, come to take whatthey like? What do you think of Southern forts garrisoned byNorthern troops, and Southern cities in blockade? Is that youridea of freedom?"

"These are not the cause, but the effect, of the positiontaken by the South, " I said. 

"Yes, we fired the first gun, Randolph, " said Mr. Marshall. 

"Sumter was held against us, " said Ransom. 

"Not till South Carolina had seceded. "

"Well, she had a _right_ to secede!" cried Ransom. "And thisright the Northern mudsills are trying to trample out. If shehas not a right to be governed as she likes, she is not free. "

"But why did she secede?" I asked. "What wrong was done her?"

"You are a girl, and cannot understand such matters!" Ransomanswered, impatiently. "Just ask mamma to talk to you; - or Iwill!"

"Miss Randolph's question is pertinent though, " said Mr. Marshall; "and I am ashamed to confess I am as little able toanswer it as she. What wrong had they to complain of?"

"Why, Hugh, you certainly know, " his companion answered, "thatLincoln was elected; and that if the government is to be inthe hands of those who do not think and vote with us - as thiselection shows it will - we shall be pushed to the wall. TheSouth and her institutions will come to nothing - will be in acontemptible minority. We do not choose that. "

"Then the wrong done them was that they were out-voted?" Mr. Marshall said. 

"Put it so!" De Saussure replied, with heat; "we have a rightto say we will govern ourselves and sail our own boat. "

"Yes, so I think we have, " said the other. "Whether it isworth such a war, is another question, Such a war is a seriousthing. "

"It would be mean-spirited to let our rights be taken fromus, " said Ransom. "It is worth anything to maintain them. "

"It will not be much of a war, " resumed De Saussure. "Thosepoor tailors and weavers will find their workshops are a greatdeal more comfortable than soldiers' tents and the battle-ground; and they won't stand fire, depend upon it. "

"Cowardly Yankees!" said Ransom. 

"That is Preston's favourite word, " I remarked. "But I am notclear that you are not both mistaken. "

"You have lived among Yankees, till it has hurt you, " saidRansom. 

"Till I have learned to know something about them, " I said. 

"And is your judgment of the probable issue of the war, different from that I have expressed, Miss Randolph?" Mr. DeSaussure asked. 

"My judgment is not worth much, " I said. "I have doubts. "

"But you agree with us as to the right of preserving ourindependence?" Mr. Marshall said. 

"Does independence mean, the governing power? Does everyminority, as such, lose its independence?"

"Yes!" said De Saussure - "if it is to be permanently aminority. "

"That would be our case, you see, " Mr. Marshall went on. "Arewe not justified in endeavouring to escape from such aposition?"

I was most unwilling to talk on the subject, but they were alldetermined I should. I could not escape. 

"It depends, " I said, "the settlement of that question, uponthe other question, whether our government is one or twenty. "

"It is thirty!" said Ransom. 

I had thrown a ball now which they could keep up without me. To my joy, the whole three became so much engaged in the game, that I was forgotten. I could afford to forget too; andquitting the fair lake and the glorious mountain that lookeddown upon it, ceasing to hear the eager debate which went onat my side, my thoughts flew over the water to a uniform and asword that were somewhere in that struggle of rights andwrongs. My heart sank. So far off, and I could not reach him;so busy against the feelings and prejudices of my friends, andI could not reconcile them; in danger, and I could not benear; in trouble, perhaps, and I could not help. It would notdo to think about. I brought my thoughts back, and wondered atold Mont Pilatte which looked so steadily down on me with thecalm of the ages. 

CHAPTER X. 

WAITING

For weeks after this sail on the lake my life was like a fęteday. Expeditions of all sorts were planned and carried out formy pleasure. One day we were exploring the lake shores in aboat; the next, we went back into the country, as far as wecould go and return before evening; a third day we climbed themountains somewhere and got glorious new views of what theworld is. Nothing could hinder, in those days, but that mydraught of pleasure was very full. Whatever weight might lieat my heart, when I found myself high, high up above theordinary region of life, resting on a mountain summit fromwhich I looked down upon all that surrounded me other days; alittle of that same lifting up befel the thoughts of my heartand the views that have to do with the spirit's life. I stoodabove the region of mists for a little. I saw how theinequalities of the lower level, which perplex us there, sinkinto nothing when looked upon from a higher standpoint. I sawthat rough roads led to quiet valleys; and that the blessedsunlight was always lying on the earth, though down in one ofthose depths one might lose sight of it for a time. I do notknow how it is, but getting up into a high mountain has alittle the effect of getting out of the world. One has leftperplexities and uncertainties behind; the calm and thestrength of the everlasting hills is about one; the air is notdefiled with contentions or rivalries or jealousies up there;and the glory of creation reminds one of other glory, andpower, and wisdom and might; and one breathes hope and rest. So I used to do. Of all our excursions, I liked best to go upthe mountains. No matter how high, or by how difficult a road. 

Mamma and papa were only now and then of the party. That I wasvery sorry for, but it could not be helped. Mamma had seen itall, she said; and when I urged that she had not been to thisparticular "horn, " she said that one "horn" was just likeanother, and that when you had seen one or two you had seenthem all. But I never found it so. Every new time was a newrevelation of glory to me. If I could have had papa with me, my satisfaction would have been perfect; but papa shunnedfatigue, and never went where he could not go easily. I wasobliged to be content with my brother and my brother'sfriends; and after I had made up my mind to that, the wholeway was a rejoicing to me, from the time I left the house tillwe returned, a weary and hungry party, to claim mamma'swelcome again. Our party was always the same four. Mr. DeSaussure and Hugh Marshall were, I found, very intimately athome with my father and mother, and naturally they were soonon the same footing with me. As far as care went, I had threebrothers to look after me, of whom indeed Ransom was not themost careful; and as to social qualifications, they wereextremely well-bred, well-educated, and had a great deal ofgeneral and particular cultivation. In the evenings we hadmusic and conversation; which last was always very pleasantexcept when it turned upon American affairs. Then I had greattwinges of heart, which I thought it wise to keep to myself asclosely as possible. 

I remember well the twinge I had, when one evening early inSeptember De Saussure came in, the utmost glee expressed inhis eyes and manner, and announced his news thus; -

"They have had a battle at Springfield, and Lyon is killed. "

"Who is Lyon?" I could not help asking, though it wasincautious. 

"You should not ask, " he said more gently as he sat down byme; "you have no relish for these things. Even the cause ofliberty cannot sweeten them to you. "

"Who is Lyon, De Saussure?" my father repeated. 

"A Connecticut fellow. " The tone of these words, in its utterdisdain, was inexpressible. 

"Connecticut?" said my father. "Has the war got into NewEngland? That cannot be. "

"No, sir, no, sir, " said Ransom. "It is Springfield inMissouri. You find a Yankee wherever you go in this world. "

"Wilson's Creek is the place of the battle, " Mr. De Saussurewent on. "Near Springfield, in Missouri. It was anoverwhelming defeat. Lyon killed, and the next in commandobliged to beat off. "

"Who on our side?" asked my mother. 

"Ben McCulloch and Price. "

"How many engaged? Was it much of an affair?"

"We had twenty thousand or so. Of course, the others hadmore. "

"It doesn't take but one or two Southerners to whip a score ofthose cowards, " said Ransom. 

"Why should not the war have got into New England, Mr. Randolph?" my mother asked. "You said, 'That cannot be. ' Whyshould it not be?"

"There are a few thousand men in the way, " said my father;"and I think they are not all cowards. "

"They will never stand before our rifles, " said De Saussure. 

"Our boys will mow them down like grass, " said Ransom. "And inNew Orleans the fever will take care of them. How soon, mother, will the fever be there?"

Mamma and Ransom compared notes upon the probable and usualtime for the yellow fever to make its appearance, when itwould wield, its scythe of destruction upon the fresh harvestof life made ready for it, in the bands of the Northernsoldiers in Louisiana. My whole soul was in a stir ofopposition to the speakers. I had to be still, but painstruggled to speak. 

"You do not enjoy the prospect -" Hugh Marshall said, softly. 

I only looked at him. 

"Nor do I, " said he, shaking his head. "A fair fight is onething. - It is a terrible state of affairs at home, MissRandolph. "

I had the utmost difficulty to keep quiet and give no sign. Icould have answered him with a cry which would have startledthem all. What if Thorold were ordered down there? He mightbe. He would go where he was ordered. That thought broughthelp; for so would I! A soldier, in another warfare, Iremembered my ways were appointed, even as his; only morewisely, more surely, and on no service that could by any meansbe in vain. But yet the pain was very sharp, as I looked atthe group who were eagerly discussing war matters; my father, my mother, my brother, and De Saussure, who in the interest ofthe thing had left my side; how keen they were! So were otherskeen at home, who had swords in their hands and pistols intheir belts. It would not do to think. I could but repeat tomyself, - "I am a soldier - I am a soldier - and just now myduty is to stand and bear fire. "

There was little chance in those days at Lucerne for me to bealone with papa. The opportunities we had we both enjoyedhighly. Now and then mamma would be late for breakfast, oreven take hers in bed; once in a while go out to a visit fromwhich I begged off. Then papa and I drew together and had agood time. One of these chances occurred a few days after thenews came of General Lyon's death. We were alone, and I wasdrawing, and papa had been watching me a little while insilence. 

"Daisy, " he began, "am I wrong? It seems to me that you do notlook upon matters at home with just the eye that the rest ofus have for them?"

"What matters, papa?" I said, looking up, and feelingtroubled. 

"You do not like the war. "

"Papa, - do you?"

"Yes. I think our countrymen are right, and of course I wishthat they should have their rights. "

"Papa, " said I, "don't you think it must be very strongreasons that can justify so dreadful a thing as a war?"

"Undoubtedly; but the preservation of liberty is one of thestrongest that can be conceived. "

"Papa - you know I want liberty for the blacks. "

"It is like you, my dear child, " my father said, after pausinga minute; "it is like your generous nature; but Daisy, I thinkthose people do not want it for themselves. "

"Papa, if they did not, I should think it would be one of thestrongest arguments on my side; but I am sure they do. I knowa great many of them that do. "

"Did not you, perhaps, bring about that desire in them, byyour kind and possibly somewhat misjudged indulgences?"

"No indeed, papa; it was our overseer, with his wicked ways. That Mr. Edwards is dreadful, papa!"

"All overseers are not good, " said my father with a sigh. "Thepeople at Magnolia are as well treated, on the whole, - asthey can be anywhere, I think, - I hope. "

"You do not know, papa. If they are, you have said all. Andthere is our old Maria, who has nothing to do with Mr. Edwards; she has no hope nor anticipation which does not gobeyond this world; and it is so with a great many of them. They have that hope; but they sing, "I am bound for thepromised land!" - in a minor key; and to a plaintive air thatmakes your heart ache. "

"Yours, Daisy, " said my father with a somewhat constrainedsmile. 

"Papa, " I went on, trembling, but I thought it best toventure, - "if the issue of this war could be to set all thosepeople free, I could almost be glad. "

"That will not be the issue, Daisy, " he said. 

"Papa, what do you think will?"

"It can have but one issue. The Southern people cannot be putdown. "

"Then, if they succeed, what will be the state of thingsbetween them and the North?"

"It is impossible to tell how far things will go, Daisy, nowthat they have actually taken up arms. But I do not think theSouthern people want anything of the North, but to be letalone. "

"How would it be, if the North succeeded, papa?"

"It cannot succeed, Daisy. You have heard a differentlanguage, I suppose; but I know the men, - and the women, - ofthe South. They will never yield. The North must, sooner orlater. "

I could not carry this on, and turned the conversation. But Ihad to listen to a great deal of the same sort of thing, inwhich I took no part. It came up every day. I discovered thatmy mother was using her influence and all her art to induceour two young friends to return home and enter the Southernarmy. She desired with equal vehemence that Ransom should takethe same course; and as they all professed to be strong in theinterests and sympathies that moved her, I was a littlepuzzled to understand why they delayed so long. For they diddelay. They talked, but nothing came of it. Still we went onfresh excursions and made new expeditions; spending days ofdelight on the mountain sides, and days of enchantment in themountain valleys; and still our party was of the same four. Itis true that papa did not at all share mamma's eagerness tohave Ransom go; but Ransom did not greatly care for papa'slikings; and in the case of the others, I did not see whatheld them. 

The printed news from home we had of course, regularly; and asfar as I could without being watched, I studied them. Thepapers after all were mostly Southern, and so filled withoutrageous invective and inflated boasting, that I could notjudge anything very certainly, from what they said. Nothing ofgreat importance seemed to be transpiring between thebelligerent parties. I supposed that it wanted but some suchoccurrence or occasion to send off our three young men like aball from a rifle, straight to the seat of war. Meanwhile weenjoyed ourselves. Others did, and I did also, whenever Icould put down fear and lift up hope; and I was young, andthat happened to me sometimes. So the weeks ran on. 

"I really don't see why I should be in a hurry to plungemyself into that angry confusion of things at home, " HughMarshall said one day. "It seems to me, they can get throughit without my help. "

"Well, you are not in a hurry. " I answered. 

We were out as usual for a day's pleasure among the mountains, and Hugh and I were resting on a sunny bank waiting for theothers to come up. We had distanced them. 

"What do you think about it?" he said, suddenly drawinghimself up from the grass and looking in my face. 

"Men do not rule their course by what women think, " - Ianswered. 

"No, you are wrong; they do! Sometimes they do, " - he said. "Ihave no mother nor sister to counsel me; only Mrs. Randolphbids me go home and be a soldier; but I would as lieve takeadvice from you. What would you tell me to do - if I were yourbrother?"

"I do not tell Ransom anything. "

"He is under his mother's tutelage; but I am not. Tell me whatto do, Miss Randolph. I am sure your counsel would be good. Doyou wish me to go and fight the North, as your mother says Iought?"

"I wish people would not fight at all, " I said, with my heartstraitened. 

"Of course; but here we are in it, or they are; and it is thesame thing. Don't you think they can get through it withoutme? or do you say as your mother, - 'Every one go!' "

He looked at me more earnestly than was pleasant, and I wasgreatly at a loss what to answer. It was wisest for me not tocommit myself to a course opposed to my mother's; and yet, truth is wisest of all. I looked to see Ransom and Mr. DeSaussure, but they were not in sight. 

"You are not speaking in jest, " I said; "and I have nobusiness to speak in earnest. "

"You never speak any other way, " he rejoined. "Tell me yourmind. You are never violent; do you feel as Mrs. Randolph doesabout it? Would you like me better if I went heart and soulinto the fray at home?"

"That would depend upon the-views and motives with which youwent into it. "

"Well - if I did it for love of you?" he said smiling. 

"I cannot imagine that anybody should do such a thing for loveof me. Nothing but the strongest and purest convictions ofduty can justify such a thing as fighting. "

"I suppose I know what that means, " he said somewhat gloomily. 

"No, " said I hastily, "I don't think you do. "

"What does it mean, then?" he asked. 

"Permit me to ask first, Are your convictions strong andclear, that it is your duty to go home and enter the war forthe South?"

"That's a searching question, " he said laughing. "To say yes, would be to condemn myself at once. To say no, - what wouldthat do for me with Mrs. Randolph?"

"You are not speaking to Mrs. Randolph, " I said, half under mybreath. 

He looked up eagerly in my face. "You do not think as shedoes!" he said. "You do not believe in fighting, under anycircumstances?"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Marshall, " I said; and I felt myself colour. "I do believe in fighting, when it is to relieve theoppressed, to deliver those who are trampled upon, or to saveourselves or others from worse than death. "

"Our friends at the South can hardly be said to be in suchextremity, " he said, looking rather perplexed; "unless youbelieve all that the papers say about Yankee invaders; and Ifor one am not ready to do that. "

"Nor I, " I said; "I know them too well. "

"Then who is so bitterly oppressed just now, Miss Randolph?"

"If you do not know of anybody, I would not fight, Mr. Marshall. "

"Really?" said he. "Perhaps I ought to go home and take careof my twelve hundred people at Vincennes. Is that yourthought?"

"Are they in need of care?" I asked. 

" 'Pon my word, I don't know. Perhaps it would be nearer rightto say, take care of myself; for if the war should come theway of Vicksburg, and Yankee arms have a little success, theremight be the mischief to pay at Vincennes. On reflection, Idon't see how I could take care of myself, either. Then you donot bid me go?" he asked again. 

"You remember our words one day about insignificant lives?"

"Yes!" he cried eagerly; "and I have been longing ever sinceto ask you to explain more fully what interested me so much. Inever could get a chance. I assure you, I have felt to thebottom of my heart what it is to have one's existence reallyworth nothing, to anybody. How may it be better? My life hasto do with nothing but insignificant things. "

"But you must define insignificance, " I said. 

"Is it needful?"

"I think so. What makes things insignificant? Not their beingsmall, - or common?"

"What then, Miss Randolph?"

"Small things, and common things, are often to the last degreeimportant, you know, Mr. Marshall. "

"Yes; but however small and common, I cannot feel that I amimportant, in any degree, " he said, half laughing. 

"We were talking of lives, and things. "

"Yes. Excuse me. Well?"

"I think I see the crowns of two hats, down below, whichbelong to some people that we know. "

"Is it they?" he exclaimed; - "and I wish they were fartheroff. Finish what you were going to say, Miss Daisy! Do notleave me in ignorance now, after bringing me so far. "

"I can only tell you what I think, " I said. 

"And that is precisely what I want to hear, " he answeredearnestly. 

"You will not agree to it, though, and I do not know that youwill even understand me. Mr. Marshall, I think that nothing isinsignificant which is done for God; and that everything whichis not done for Him, directly or indirectly, is insignificantor worse. "

"I do _not_ understand -" he said thoughtfully. "In what sensecan a thing be 'done for God?' Unless it is building a churchor founding a hospital. "

"Very few churches have been built for God, " I said. "Atleast I think so. "

"Why, the old monks -" Mr. Marshall began. But just then ourmissing companions came up, and he stopped. They had beenlured aside from the way by the sight of some game. We had nomore private talk; but Hugh Marshall was sober and thoughtfulall the rest of the day. 

He sought such talks with me now whenever he could; and seemedto enter into them like a man, with an earnest purpose to knowthe truth and to do his work in the world if he could find it. I grew, in a way, very fond of him. He was gentle, well-bred, happy-tempered, extremely careful of my welfare and pleasure, and regardful of my opinions, which I suppose flattered myvanity; well-read and sensible; and it seemed to me that hegrew more agreeable every day. 

The accounts from the seat of war in America were not verystirring just then; nothing great was done or expected; andthe question of our young men's return to take part in whatwas going on, was suffered for a time to fall out of sight. Meanwhile we left Lucerne and went to Geneva. There was moresociety, in a quiet way; and there was a fresh harvest ofpleasure to be reaped by me and for me in the domains ofnature. 

CHAPTER XI. 

A VICTORY

"Daisy, - you are very happy!" my father said one day when Iwas sitting with him. We were looking out upon the lake, whichour windows commanded; but I found papa's look had come backfrom the window to me. 

"You are very happy!" he said. 

"Yes, papa, - pretty happy. "

"Pretty happy?" said he, putting his hand under my chin andturning my face again round to him, and then kissing me. "Pretty _and_ happy, you mean. "

"No, papa, " I said laughing; - "I don't mean that. "

"It is true, though, " said he. "There was a bit of a smileupon your mouth just now - before I spoke; - what were youthinking of?"

"Papa, it is so glorious, - the lake and its shores in thissunlight. "

"That was all?"

"No, not quite all, papa. "

"I thought not. What was the rest of it, Daisy?"

"Papa, I was thinking with joy, that I belong to the wonderfulOne who made all that; and so, that the riches of his powerand glory are in a certain sense mine; - just as everythinggood in you is mine, papa. "

He folded me in his arms and kissed me again, very fondly. 

"There is not much good in me, Daisy. "

"Yes, papa, - for me. "

"But there is a great deal in you, - for somebody. "

"For you, papa. "

"Nobody else, Daisy?"

He was holding me close in his arms and looking down into myface. I believe the colour must have come into my cheeks. 

"Ah, I thought so!" he said. "Even so soon, Daisy, you areleaving me for somebody else. "

"Papa!" I exclaimed, hiding my face in his neck, - "I willnever leave you, till you say so. "

"Till I say so? I will not be over selfish, my dear child. Ido not mean that. "

"Who is it to be, Daisy?" my mother's voice said behind us. 

I started up in absolute terror. What had I said? and what didshe mean? I looked at her, speechless. 

"Well?" she said laughing, "what is the matter? You need notturn white about it. Is your father the only one to be in yourconfidence? I will withdraw then. "

"Stop! - Mamma!" I cried; "what are you saying? There is noconfidence. What are you talking about?"

"I only asked, who it was to be, Daisy? I thought you weretalking of leaving us, and naturally concluded it was to bewith somebody. "

"Mamma - oh, mamma, I was speaking only in the abstract. "

Mamma laughed. "In the abstract! Well, you will have to comefrom generals to particulars, Daisy. Abstractions will notsatisfy anybody long. "

I was in great difficulty and great confusion. Papa drew meinto his arms again and kissed my lips and cheeks and eyes, asif he would have hid my blushes. 

"You shall be as abstract as you like, " he said; "and as longas you like. I give you leave. "

"That's nonsense, though, Mr. Randolph, " said my mother, standing at the back of his chair. "Daisy cannot live inabstractions for ever. She must choose, and let her choice beknown; and the sooner the better. Nobody can guess it now. Shehas been abstract enough. "

I was in the greatest perplexity at this speech, whichconveyed to me no meaning whatever. Let my choice be known?Did mamma know about Mr. Thorold? I knew she could not; butthen, what did she mean?

"There is no hurry, Felicia, " said papa. 

"I will not have Daisy marry any but an American, Mr. Randolph. "

"Agreed. There is no present likelihood that she will. "

"But when we get to Florence, Mr. Randolph, and she is seen inthe great world, things may not absolutely be within yourcontrol - or mine. "

Mamma stood tapping her fingers upon the back of my father'schair, and I thought her very odd indeed. Her last sentence, however, had a word that I could answer. I stood up and facedher. 

"Mamma, " I said, "I am going to say something that you willnot like. "

"Then do not say it, Daisy. "

"I would not, if I could help it. But you know, mamma, I am aservant of God - I have not changed, - and I and the 'greatworld' have nothing in common. "

"Well? -" said mamma calmly. 

"I do not belong to it. I have no place in it. "

"No, of course. You are just out of school. A few months morewill change all that. "

"No, mamma, - please!"

"Yes, Daisy, - please!" she said, tapping my cheek with herfinger, and then leaning forward to kiss me with smiling lips. "You do not know what you are talking about, my love. You aremade for the great world, Daisy. There is no danger of turningyour head; so I have no objection to explain to you that youare magnificent. "

"Mamma, what difference can that possibly make?"

They both laughed at me, and mamma said I would soon see. 

"But, mamma, " I urged, "that world and I have nothing incommon. I should be out of my place in it, and it would findme something strange. "

"It is quite time to have that altered then, " she said. "Youmay be a nun if you choose afterward; but you shall know whatthe great world is, before you give it up; and it shall knowyou. You may spend your odd minutes in considering what dressyou will wear for your first appearance, Daisy. Don't ask mefor a white cambric and an apron with pockets. "

I stood in much perplexity, not resolved what I ought to saynext. Papa took my hand. 

"It is not much, to show yourself, " he said kindly. "What isthe difficulty, Daisy?"

"You mean, show myself in a fine dress and in a fine assembly, papa?"

"I don't care about the dress, " he answered. 

"Yes, but you do, Mr. Randolph, " said my mother. "Daisy wouldnot wear a print, for instance, to the Grand Duke's ball. Yourcomplexion, Daisy, will take any sort of colour; but rubieswill look especially well on this skin, and pearls. " Shetouched my face caressingly as she spoke, pushing back thehair from my temple and then bringing her hand down to takehold of my chin. "Little fool!" said she laughing - "does itdismay you?"

"Yes, mamma, - the thought of crossing your pleasure. "

"You shall not do that. Good children always obey theirmothers, I am not going to have you settled down on aplantation at home, east or west, without at least letting theworld see you first. "

"Daisy does not want jewels, " said my father. "She is tooyoung. "

"One day she will, " said mamma; "and an occasion might make itproper, even now. I hope so; for I want to see the effect. "

Mamma went away, with that; and I sat down again by papa'sside. Not to dream over the sunlight on the lake any more; Iwas busy with cloudy realities. "Children, obey your parents_in the Lord_. " Oh, why did duty bid me go contrary to thepleasure of mine! I would have so gladly pleased them to theutmost limits of my power. Papa was watching me, though I didnot know it, and presently said very gently, -

"What is it, Daisy?"

"Papa, I want to please you and mamma so much!"

"And cannot you?"

"Not in this, papa. "

"Why? Explain to me. I do not understand your position, Daisy. "

"Papa, I am a servant of Christ; and a servant is bound to dohis Master's will. "

"But you are begging the question. "

"If you will have patience, papa, I will try to tell you howit is. You know the Lord said, 'If any man serve me, let himfollow me. ' You know how He lived and what He lived for. Should I be following in his footsteps, when I was dressingand dancing and talking nonsense or nothings and getting sotired that I could do nothing but sleep all the next day? Andpapa, that is not all. It is so difficult, when one is dressedto look well and others are dressed in like manner, or for thesame object, I mean, - it is very difficult not to wish tolook well, and to wish to look better than other people, andto be glad if one does; and then comes the desire foradmiration, and a feeling of pride, and perhaps, emulation ofsomebody else; and one comes home with one's head filled withpoor thoughts, and the next day one is fit for nothing. And isthat, following Christ? who went about doing good, who soughtnot His own, who was separate from sinners. And He said to Hispeople, 'Ye are not of the world, even as I am not of theworld. ' "

"Why, Daisy, " said my father, passing over the last part of myspeech, "how do you know all this? Have you been out into thegreat world already?"

"No, papa; but if the little world has such effects what mustthe great one do?"

"Pray, what little world have you seen?"

"The little world of West Point, papa. And something of theworld of Washington. "

"_That_ is not much like a European court, " said my father. "Howdid you like West Point?"

"Very much indeed. "

"Did you go to balls there?"

"Oh, no, sir! only little hops, that the cadets have in theevenings. "

"Was Preston there then?"

"He was entering upon his last year at the Academy. "

"Had he improved?"

"Papa. - I thought he had _not_. "

My father smiled. "Which of these young friends of ours do youlike the best, Daisy?"

"Mr. Marshall and Mr. De Saussure, do you mean?"

"I mean them. "

Something in papa's tone made my answer, I was conscious, alittle constrained. I was very sorry, and could not help it. 

"Papa - I think - Don't you think, Mr. Marshall has the mostprinciple?"

"Do you always like people best that are the best, Daisy?"said papa laughing. "Because, I confess I have a wickedperverseness to do the other way. "

After this conversation I seemed to see several clouds risingon my horizon in different quarters. I thought it was wisestnot to look at them; but there was one that cast a shadowalways on the spot where I was. It was so long since I hadheard from Mr. Thorold! I had told him he must not write tome; but at the same time he had said that he would, and thathe would enclose a letter to my father. Neither letter hadcome. It was easy to account for; he might not have had achance to write; or in the confusions at home, his despatchmight have been detained somewhere; it might reach me after along interval, or it might never reach me! There was nothingstrange about it; there was something trying. The hunger of myheart for one word from him or of him, grew sometimesrapacious; it was a perpetual fast day with me, and naturecried out for relief. _That_ cloud cast a shadow always over menow; only except when now and then a ray from the eternalsunshine found a rift in the cloud, or shot below it, and fora moment my feet stood in light. I had letters from theSandfords; I had even one from Miss Cardigan; it did me agreat deal of good, but it broke my heart too. 

Mamma and I kept off the subject of the great world for awhile; I think my father purposely prolonged our stay atGeneva, to favour my pleasure; and I hoped something after allmight prevent the discussion of that subject between mamma andme, at least for the present. So something did. 

I came down one afternoon to the green bank behind the house, where a table stood, and where we took our meals when theweather was fine. Our three young men were around it and theair was fragrant with the fumes of their cigars. The cigars oftwo of them were tossed away on my appearance. Ransom held hisin abeyance. 

"I did not know you were here, " I said, "or I should havescrupled about interrupting anything so pleasant. "

"You do not think it pleasant, confess, Miss Randolph, " saidDe Saussure, drawing near to look over the progress of mywork. 

"Do you dislike it, honestly, Miss Randolph?" said HughMarshall. 

"I don't dislike sugar-plums, " I said. 

"Daisy likes nothing that ordinary people like, " cried Ransom. "I pity the man that will marry you, Daisy! He will livewithin a hedge-row of restrictions. You have lived amongPuritans till you're blue. "

I lifted my eyes to Ransom without speaking. What there was inmy look, I do not know; but they all laughed. 

"What connection is there between cigars and sugar-plums?"Hugh Marshall asked next. 

"None, I suppose, " I said. "Only, - what would you think of alady who sat down regularly to eat sugar-plums three or fourtimes a day and the last thing before going to bed? and whoevidently could not live without them. "

"But why not take a sugar-plum, or a cigar, as well as otherthings - wine, or fruit, for instance?" said Marshall. 

"It is an indulgence - but we all allow ourselves indulgencesof one sort or another. "

"Besides, with a lady it is different, " said De Saussure. "Wepoor fellows have nothing better to do, half the time. "

I had no wish to lecture Mr. De Saussure, but I could not helplooking at him, which again seemed to rouse their amusement. 

"You seem to say, that is an insignificant way of life, " HughMarshall added. 

"We'll try for something better to-morrow, " said De Saussure. "We have laid a plan to go to see the lake of Annecy, MissRandolph, if we can secure your company and approbation. Itwill just take the day; and I propose that each one of usshall go prepared to instruct the others, at luncheon, as tohis or her views of the worthiest thing a man can do with hislife; - cigars being banished. "

"Cigars are not banished yet, " said Ransom, taking delicatewhiffs of his own, which sent a fragrant wreath of blue smokecurling about his face. 

"What do you say, Miss Randolph?" Hugh asked. 

"Wouldn't you like to see the house of Eugene Sue?" said DeSaussure. 

"Who was Eugene Sue?" was my counter question; and theylaughed again, our two friends with sparkling eyes. 

"Look here, Daisy!" said Ransom, suddenly bringing down hischair on four feet and sitting upright, - "I wish you wouldput an end to this indulgence of sight-seeing and yoursociety, and send these gentlemen home with me. I must go, andthey ought to go too and do their duty. A word from you wouldsend either of them straight to Beauregard's headquarters. Talk of indulgences!"

"I do not wish to send either of them there, " was myincautious answer. 

"Do you think it is always wrong to fight?" De Saussure asked. 

I said no, with an internal shiver running through me fromhead to foot. They went into a mutual gratulation on thecauses for fighting that existed on the part of the SouthernStates, and the certainty that the warlike spirit of the Northwould "die off like a big fungus, " as one of them phrased it. I could not discuss the point with them, and I got away assoon as it could gracefully be done. 

But something in this little talk, or in what went before it, had unsettled me; and I slept little that night. Anxietieswhich had lain pretty still, and pain which had been ratherquiet, rose up together and shook me. My Bible reading hadgiven me a word which for a time helped the confusion. "No manthat warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please Him who hath chosen him to be a soldier. "

Not to be entangled with the affairs of this life! - and myheart and soul were in a whirl of them; I might say, in asnarl. And true the words were. How could I please Him who hadchosen me to be a soldier, with my heart set on my ownpleasure, and busy with my own fears? I knew I could not. Thequiet subjection of spirit with which I left Washington, I hadin a measure lost at Lucerne. Somehow, opposition had rousedme; and the great distance and the impossibility of hearinghad made my imagination restless; and the near probabilitythat mamma would not favour our wishes had caused me to take asort of life and death grasp of them. The management ofmyself, that I had resigned, I found I had not resigned it;but my heart was stretching out yearning hands to Thorold andcrying for a sight of him. Meanwhile, the particular work thatI had to do in Switzerland had been little thought of. Whatwas it?

I spent that night waking. My room looked not to the lake, butover an extent of greensward and orchards, lit up now by abright moon. I knelt at my window, with a strong recollectionof former times, and a vain look back at my little old self, the childish Daisy, whose window at Melbourne, over thehoneysuckles, had been so well used and had entertained such aquiet little heart. Then there had been Miss Pinshon's Daisy;but all the Daisies that I could remember had been quietcompared to this one. Must joy take such close hold on sorrow?Must hopes always be twin with such fears? - I asked amidbitter tears. But tears do one good; and after a littleindulgence of them, I brought myself up to look at my duty. What was it?

I might love, and fear, and hope; but I must not be"entangled. " Not so concerned about myself, either for sorrowor joy, that I should fail in anything to discern the Lord'swill, or be unready, or be slow, to do it. Not so but that myheart should be free, looking to God for its chief strengthand joy always and everywhere, - yes, and holding my hopes athis hand, to be given up if he called them back. With Thoroldparted from me, in the thick of the war struggle, almostcertain to be rejected by both my father and my mother, couldI have and keep such a disentangled heart? The command saidyes, and I knew there were promises that said yes too; but fora time I was strangely unwilling. I had a sort ofsuperstitious feeling, that the giving up of my will aboutthese things, and of my will's hold of them, would be apreliminary to their being taken away from me in good earnest. And I trembled and wept and shrank, like the coward I was. 

"And if a man also strive for masteries, yet is he notcrowned, except he strive lawfully. "

"God's way is the way, " I said to myself, - "and there is noother. I know, in what I said to mamma that afternoon aboutdressing and going into the world, it was not all principle. There was a mixture of selfish disinclination to go intosociety, because of Mr. Thorold and my feeling about him. Mythoughts and will are all in a tangle; and they must bedisentangled. "

The struggle was long and sore that night. Worse than inWashington; because here I was alone among those who did notfavour Mr. Thorold, and were opposed in everything to his andmy views and wishes. Temptation said, that it was forsakingtheir cause, to give up my will about them. But there is notemptation that takes us and God has not provided a way ofescape. The struggle was sharp; but when the dawn broke overthe orchards and replaced the glory of the moonlight, my heartwas quiet again. I was bent, before all things, upon doing thewill of God; and had given up myself and all my hopes entirelyto His disposal. They were not less dear hopes for that, though now the rest of my heart was on something better; onsomething which by no change or contingency can disappoint orfail. I was disentangled. I stood free. And I was happier thanI had been in many a long day. "The peace of God. " If peoplecould only possibly know what that means!

CHAPTER XII. 

AN ENGAGEMENT

The expedition to Annecy had been determined on, and papa andmamma were to go. I went in a carriage with them, while theothers were on horseback; so I had a nice quiet time, whichsuited me; a time of curious secret enjoyment. It seemed as ifa gratulation came to me from every blade of grass and everyray of sunlight; because I was a servant of God, and as whollygiven up to do His will as they were. There was communionbetween them and me. Of those "ministers of His, that do Hispleasure, " I would be one; to do what He had for me to do inthe world, should be my care and joy at once; and the care ofmyself - I left it to Him. One goes light when one does notcarry that burden. 

"Daisy, you are dreadfully sober, " said mamma. 

"Not _dreadfully_, mamma, I hope, " I said with a smile. 

"You are pale too, " she went on. "Mr. Randolph, Daisy thinkstoo much. "

"It is an old weakness of hers, " said papa. "I am afraid it isbeyond our reach, Felicia. "

"I will break it up for to-day, " said mamma as the carriagestopped and Mr. De Saussure came to the steps. "Charles, Daisyhas got into a brown study. I give her to you in charge, notto allow anything of the sort again till we get home. Andorder luncheon at once, will you. I can't go walking or sight-seeing without that. "

Mr. De Saussure gave me his arm and took me with him, as hesaid, to help about the luncheon. It was soon spread out ofdoors, beneath the shade of some large trees, and we gatheredround it in holiday mood. Bread was sweet, with that page ofbeauty spread out before my eyes all the time; - for betweenthe boles of the trees and under their hanging branches Icould see the glittering waters of the lake and a bit of itsdistant shore. I did not go into a brown study, however, notwishing to give occasion to Mr. De Saussure's good offices. Ithought he had quite enough enjoyed his charge during thebusiness before luncheon. To my disappointment, after the mealpapa declared himself tired and went to lie down. 

"We have forgotten our agreement, " said Mr. De Saussure. "Atluncheon, we were all to tell, Mrs. Randolph, what we thinkthe worthiest thing to live for. "

"Were we?" said mamma. "That sounds like one of Daisy'sproblems. "

"It is not hers, however, " he rejoined; "any further than thatI am mainly curious to know what she will say about it. "

"You ought to be equally anxious about my opinion, it seems tome, " mamma said. 

"Do I not know it already? Pour la patrie, - does anything gobefore that in your mind? Honestly, Mrs. Randolph, - is it notin your opinion the worthiest thing anybody can do, to fight, or to die - still better, - for the independence of theSouth?"

"You do not think so, " said mamma, "or you would be there. "

"I am selfish, and have selfish hopes and fears. But you thinkso?"

"Let us hear what you consider the worthiest object of life, "said mamma. 

"It is not my turn. Miss Randolph, your mother has spoken -the next honour belongs to you. "

"The worthiest object of life?" I said. "Is that thequestion?"

"It will not be a question, when you have answered it, " DeSaussure said gallantly. 

"You will not like my answer, " I said. "I should think itwould be, To please God. "

"But that is not an answer, pardon me. Of course, the SupremeBeing is pleased to see people following the worthiest object;and the question is, What is the _worthiest?_"

I did not like to hear Mr. De Saussure's tongue touch themeswhere it was not at home. The conversation was too serious forlight handling; but I could not get out of it. 

"You will find that my answer includes all, " I said. "It isimpossible to lay down a rule, as to particulars, that willfit all cases. It is the best thing one man can do, to laydown his life for his country; the best thing another man cando is to stay at home and devote himself to the care of aninfirm mother or father; but in either case, for God. "

"I do not understand -" said Mr. Marshall. 

"Suppose the one goes to the battlefield for his own glory, and the other stays at home for his own ease?"

"Don't you think glory is a thing to live for?" said Ransom, with an indignant expression that reminded me painfully of ourchildish days. 

"Yes, " I said slowly, - "I do; but not the praise of men, which is so often mistaken. The glory that comes from God, -_that_ is worth living for. "

"What an incomprehensible girl you are!" Ransom answeredimpatiently. 

"She'll mend -" said mamma. 

"But, Miss Randolph, " said Mr. Marshall, "the care of infirmrelatives, a father or a mother, can anything make thatunworthy?"

"Not in itself, " I said; "but suppose a man's duty calls himaway? It might. You can suppose such a case. "

"I see what I have to expect, " mamma said with a laugh. "Daisywill take care of me, until some duty calls her away. I willnot count upon you, Daisy, any longer than that. De Saussure, what is _your_ estimate of life's objects? On honour, now!"

"I can think of nothing better than to live for somebody thatone loves, " he said. 

"I knew you would say that, " she rejoined. "Hugh, what do yousay?"

"I need to go to school, Mrs. Randolph. "

"Well, go to school to Daisy, " said mamma with another lightlaugh. "And come, let us walk, or we shall not have time. EugŠne Sue, is it, that we are going to see?"

"Only his house, madam. Miss Randolph, I am charged, you know, with your studies to-day. "

I was not in the mood of accepting Mr. De Saussure's arm, butjust then it was the only thing to do. My mother and Ransomand Hugh Marshall were presently some little distance behind, an interval separating us; and Mr. De Saussure and I followedthe shores of the lake, taking such counsel together as oursomewhat diverse moods made possible. I was thinking, what alife of hard work the two prophets Elijah must have known intheir time; he who was first of the name, and his greatersuccessor, John the Baptist. Each of them worked alone, against a universal tide of adverse evil that flooded theland. If I found it so sorrowful to be alone in my family andsociety, what must they have felt with the whole world againstthem. And Elijah's spirit did once give out, brave as he was:"It is enough, O Lord; take away my life. " I thought I couldunderstand it. To be all alone; to have no sympathy in what isdearest to you; to face opposition and scorn and ridicule andcontumely while trying to do people good and bring them togood; to have only God on your side, with the bitterconsciousness that those whom you love best are arrayedagainst him; your family and country; - I suppose nobody cantell how hard that is to endure, but he who has tasted it. Mytaste of it was light indeed; but a half hour with MissCardigan would have been inexpressibly good to me that day. SoI thought, as I walked along the bank of the lake with Mr. DeSaussure; and then I remembered "my hiding-place and myshield. "

"You are very silent to-day, Miss Randolph, " said my companionat length. I may remark, in passing, that _he_ had not been. 

"It is enough to look, and to think, " I answered, "with such asight before one's eyes. "

"Do you know, " said he, "such independence of all the exteriorworld, - of mortals, I mean, - is very tantalising to thosedisregarded mortals?"

"Do you find it so? It is fair then to presume, in a placelike this, that what takes up my attention has not so muchcharm for you. "

"That is severe!" he said. "Do you think I do not see all thisbeauty before us? But pardon me, - have _you_ seen it?"

"I have tasted it every step of the way, Mr. De Saussure. "

"I am rebuked, " he said. "You must excuse me - I had countedupon the pleasure of seeing you enjoy it. "

"One's enjoyment is not always heightened by giving itexpression, " I said. 

"No, I know that is your theory - or practice, " he said. "Mysisters are always so vehement in their praises of anythingthey like, that nobody else has a chance to know whether helikes it or not. I generally incline to the _not_. "

I added no remark upon Mr. De Saussure's or his sisters'peculiar way of enjoying themselves. 

"But you _are_ uncommonly silent, " he went on presently; -"_triste_, _ręveuse_. It is impossible not to suffer from it, - inone who values your words as much as I do. "

"Why, I thought you were apt to look upon things from adifferent point of view, - not from mine, " I said. 

"I must be wrong then - always. Miss Randolph, you are of agentle and kind disposition, - I wish you would be my Mentor!"

"I am not old enough to be Mentor, " I said. 

"To be mine! Yes, you are, " he rejoined eagerly. "I would nothave you a day older. "

"I shall be that to-morrow, " I said, laughing. 

"But if you were mine, " he said, changing his tone, "every daywould only add to your power and your qualifications for doingme good. And I know that is what you love. "

"I cannot see that I have done you the least good, so far, Mr. De Saussure, " I said, amused. "I think you must be mistaken. "

"Will you try, Daisy?" he said insinuatingly, and stoppingshort in our walk. 

"Try what, Mr. De Saussure?" I said, beginning to bebewildered. 

"Surely you know! You are a little cruel. But you have theright. Be my Mentor - be my darling - promise to be, one ofthese days, my wife. "

I dropped my arm from Mr. De Saussure's and stood in a maze, Imight say with truth, frightened. Up to that minute, nosuspicion of his purpose or mind regarding me had entered mythoughts. I suppose I was more blind than I ought to havebeen; and the truth was, that in the utter preoccupation of myown heart, the idea that I could like anybody else but Mr. Thorold, or that anybody else could like me, had been simplyout of sight. I knew myself so thoroughly beyond anybody'sreach, the prior possession of the ground was so perfect andsettled a thing, that I did not remember it was a fact hiddenfrom other eyes but mine. And I had gone on in my supposedwalled-in safety; - and here was somebody presuming within thewalls, who might allege that I had left the gate open. However, to do Mr. De Saussure justice, I never doubted for amoment that his heart might be in any danger of breaking if Ithrust him out. But for all that, I lost my breath in thefirst minute of discovery of what I had been doing. 

"You hesitate, " said he. "You shall command me, Daisy. I willgo instantly, hard as it would be, and give all my power tofurthering the war at home; - or, if you bid me, I will keepout of it, which would be harder still, were you not hereinstead of there. Speak, won't you, -a good word for me?"

"You must do nothing at my command, Mr. De Saussure, " I said. "I have known you only as mamma's and my brother's friend; - Inever thought you had any other feeling; and I had no othertowards you. "

"Mrs. Randolph _is_ my friend, " he said eagerly. "She does methe honour to wish well to my suit. She looks at it, not withmy eyes, but with the eyes of prudence; and she sees theadvantages that such an arrangement would secure. I believeshe looks at it with patriotic eyes too. You know my estatesare nearly adjoining to yours. I may say too, that ourfamilies are worthy one of another. But there, I am veryconscious, my worthiness ends. I am not personally deservingof your regard - I can only promise under your guidance tobecome so. "

A light broke upon me. 

"Mr. De Saussure" - I began; but he said hastily, "Let us goon - they are coming near us;" and I took his offered armagain, not wishing more than he to have spectators or hearersof our talk; and now that the talk was begun, I wished to endit. 

"Mr. De Saussure, " I said, "you are under a serious mistake. You speak of my estates; I must inform you that I shall never, under any circumstances, be an heiress. Whoever marries me -if I ever marry - will marry a poor girl. "

"Pardon me -" he began. 

"Yes, " said I interrupting him; - "I know of what I speak. "

"What can you mean, Miss Randolph?"

"I assure you, I mean exactly what I say. Pray take it so. "

"But I do not understand you. "

"Understand this, - that I shall be a penniless woman; orsomething very like it. I am making no jest. I am no heiress -as people think. "

"But you confound me, Miss Randolph, " he said, looking bothcurious and incredulous. "May I ask, what can be theexplanation of your words? I know your Magnolia property - andit is, I assure you, a very noble one, and unencumbered. Nothing can hinder you from inheriting it - at some, we hope, of course, very distant day. "

"Nevertheless, " I said, "if I live to see that day, I shall bevery poor, Mr. De Saussure. "

"You will condescend to explain so extraordinary a statement?"

"Is not my word sufficient?"

"Pardon me, a thousand times; but you must see that I am in adifficulty. Against your word I have the word of two others -your mother and your brother, who both assure me of thecontrary. May it not be, that they know best?"

"No, Mr. De Saussure; for the fact depends on something out oftheir knowledge. "

"It is out of my knowledge too, " he said. 

I hesitated a little, and then said, -

"I will explain myself, Mr. De Saussure, trusting to yourhonour to keep silence about it. I am a friend of the colouredpeople. "

"Oh! - So are we all, " he said. 

"And I will never be rich at their expense. "

"By their means, is not necessarily at their expense, " he saidgently. 

"It is at their expense, " I repeated. "I do not choose to berich so. And the religion I live by, forbids me to do toothers as I would not like they should do to me. "

"I am sure, by that rule, your dependants at Magnolia wouldimplore you not to give them over to other hands. They willnever have so kind a mistress. Don't you see?" he said withthe same insinuating gentleness. 

"I shall give them over to no other hands. I would make themas free as myself. "

"Make them free!"

"That is what I would do. "

"You cannot mean it, " he said. 

"You see, Mr. De Saussure, that I shall be very poor. "

"You are playing with me. "

"I am very serious. "

"It is rank Northern madness!" he said to himself. "And it isMrs. Randolph's daughter. The thing is impossible. "

"It _is_ Mrs. Randolph's daughter, " I said, withdrawing my handfrom his arm. "I pray you not to forget it. "

"Pray, forgive me!" he said eagerly. "I was bewildered, and amyet. I did not know where I was. It seems to me I cannot haveheard you aright. "

"Quite right, Mr. De Saussure. "

"But just reflect!" he said. "These creatures, whose cause youare advocating, they are but half human; they cannot take careof themselves; their very happiness is identified with theirpresent position. "

"It is not the view they take of it. "

"They are incapable of forming any judgment on the matter. "

"At least they know what _they_ mean by happiness, " I said; "andin their mouths it is not a synonym with slavery. And if yourwords are true, Mr. De Saussure, in the case of some of thosepoor people, - and I know they are, - it is one of the worstthings that can be said of the system. If some of them arebrought so low as to be content with being slaves, we haverobbed them of their humanity. "

"It is absolutely Northern radicalism!" said Mr. De Saussureto himself. 

"No, " I said, - "it is Christian justice and mercy. "

"You will allow me to represent to you, without anypresumption, that there are very many Christians, both at theSouth and North, who do not look at the matter with youreyes. "

"I suppose they have never really seen it, " I answered sadly. "People that have always lived close to something, often donot know what it is. My father has never seen it - nor, mymother. _I_ have. "

"They would not agree with you; your views would not harmonisewith theirs. "

"And therefore I trust to your honour to keep silencerespecting mine. "

"I am bound, " he answered gloomily; and we walked a fewminutes in silence. 

"You will change your manner of thinking, Miss Randolph, " hebegan again. "Yours is the vision of inexperienced eyes and ofimpulsive generosity. It will not remain what it is. "

"Inexperienced eyes see the clearest, " I answered. "The habitof wrong is no help towards judging of the right. "

"You will think differently by and by. "

"Not while I am a servant of God and He commands me to breakevery yoke, to do as I would be done by, to look not on my ownthings, but also on the things of others. We owe our poorpeople not liberty only, but education, and every advantagefor restored civilisation; - a great long debt. "

"And is this the reason why you will not look favourably on mysuit?" he said after another interval. 

"It is a reason why you will not wish to prosecute it, Mr. DeSaussure. "

"You are very severe!" he said. "Do you really think that?"

"You know it is true. I do not wish to be severe. "

"Have you then no kindness for me?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You are so dreadfully calm and cool!" he said. "One has nochance with you. If this matter were not in the way, would youhave any kindness for me, Daisy? Is this all that separatesus?"

"It is quite enough, Mr. De Saussure. It is as powerful withyou as with me. "

"I am too late, I suppose!" he said, as it seemed to me, rather spitefully. As he was too late, it was no use to tellhim he could never have been early enough. I was silent; andwe walked on unenjoyingly. Vexation was working in hiscountenance, and a trace of that same spite; I was glad whenwe came to the end of our way and the other members of ourparty closed up and joined us. 

As I cared nothing for the house they had come to see, Iexcused myself from going any nearer, and sat down upon thebank at a little distance while they gratified theircuriosity. The view of the lake and lake shores here was verylovely; enough to satisfy any one for a long while; but now, my thoughts only rested there for a minute, to make a springclear across the Atlantic. Mr. Thorold was very close to me, and I was very far from him; that was the burden of my heart. So close to me he had been, that I had never dreamed any onecould think of taking his place. I saw I had been a simpleton. Up to that day I had no suspicion that Mr. De Saussure likedme more than would be convenient; and indeed I had no fear nowof his heart being broken; but I saw that his unlucky suitmade a complication in my affairs that they certainly did notneed. - Mamma approved it; yes, I had no doubt of that. I knewof a plantation of his, Briery Bank, only a few miles distantfrom Magnolia and reputed to be very rich in its incomings. And, no doubt Mr. De Saussure would have liked theneighbourhood of Magnolia, and to add its harvest to his own. And all the while I belonged to Mr. Thorold, and nobody elsecould have me. My thoughts came back to that refrain with astrong sense of pain and gladness. However, the gladness wasthe strongest. How lovely the lake was, with its sunlit hills!

In the midst of my musings, Hugh Marshall came and threwhimself on the ground at my side. I welcomed him with a smile;for I liked him; he was a friend; and I thought, - This onedoes not want me at any rate. I was a great simpleton, Isuppose. 

"I was afraid you had deserted me to-day, " he said. 

"I am sure, it is I who might rather have thought that ofyou, " I answered; and indeed I had wished for his company morethan once. 

"You could not have thought it!" he said. 

"Have you satisfied your curiosity with Eugene Sue's house?"

"I do not care to look at anything that you don't like, " hereplied. 

"Cigars? -" I suggested. 

"No indeed. If you disapprove of them, I shall have no morefellowship with them. "

"That is going quite too far, Mr. Marshall. A man should nevergive up anything that he does not disapprove of himself. "

"Not to please somebody he wishes to please?"

"Of course, " I said, thinking of Mr. Thorold, - "there mightbe such cases. But in general. "

"This is one of the cases. I wish to please you. "

"Thank you, " I said earnestly. "But indeed, I should be morepleased to have you follow your own sense of right than anynotion of another, even of myself. "

"You are not like any other woman I ever saw, " he saidsmiling. "Do you know, they all have a passion for command?There are De Saussure's mother and sisters, - they do notleave him a moment's peace, because he is not at homefighting. "

I was silent, and hoped that Mr. De Saussure's friends mightnow perhaps get him away from Geneva at least. 

"You think with them, that he ought to go?" Hugh Marshall saidpresently with a shadow, I thought, on his words. 

"I would not add one more to the war, " I answered. 

"Your mother does not think so. "

"No. "

"Mrs. Randolph has almost signified to me that her favour willdepend on my taking such a course, and doing all I can to helpon the Confederacy. "

"Yes, I know, " I said rather sadly; "mamma feels very stronglyabout it. "

"You do not?"

"Yes, Mr. Marshall, I do; but it is in a different way. "

"I wish you would explain, " he said earnestly. 

"But I do not like to set myself in opposition to mamma; andyou ought to do what you yourself think right, Mr. Marshall;not what either of us thinks. "

"What do _you_ think is right?" he repeated eagerly. 

"My thoughts do not make or unmake anything. "

"They make - they will make, if you will let them - the ruleof my life, " he answered. "I have no dearer wish. "

I was struck with dismay. 

"Please do not say that!" I said trembling. "My thoughtsshould rule only my own life; not anybody, else's. "

"One more!" said Hugh Marshall. "They must rule one more. There will be one, somewhere, whose highest pleasure will beto please you, as long as he has a life to give to it. - Willyou take mine?" he said after a pause and in a lower tone. "Ioffer it to you undividedly. "

It cannot be told, the sickness of heart which came over me. The mistake I had made in my blindness, the sorrowfulness ofit, the pain I must give, the mischief it might do, I saw itall at once. For a while, I could not find words to speak. Hugh studied my face, and must have seen no ground of hopethere, for he did not speak either. He was quite silent andleft it to me. Oh, Lake of Annecy! what pain comes to me nowwith the remembrance of your sweet waters. 

I turned at last and laid my hand upon Hugh's arm. He did notmistake me; he took my hand in his, and stood looking at mewith a face as grave as my own. 

"What is the matter, Daisy?" he said sorrowfully. 

"I have made a miserable mistake!" I said. "Cannot we befriends, Mr. Marshall? - dear friends, and nothing more?"

"Why 'nothing more'?"

"I can be no more to you, " I answered. 

"Why not?"

"I have not the feeling. I have not the power. I would, if Icould. "

"It is I who have made a mistake, " he said, as he dropped myhand. 

"No, it is I, " I said bitterly. "I have been childishly wrong. I have been foolish. It never entered my thought, that you -or anybody - liked me, except as a friend. "

"And he got your heart without your knowing it?"

"Who?" said I, frightened. 

"De Saussure, of course. "

"De Saussure! No indeed. I would a thousand times rather giveit to you, Hugh. But, I cannot. "

"Then it will come, " said he, taking my hand again; "if youcan say that, it will come. I will wait. "

"No, it will not come, " I said, as we looked one another inthe face. "I can be only a friend. May I not be that?"

He eyed me keenly, I saw, and my eyes for a moment fell. Helet go my hand again. 

"Then, I understand, " - he said. "Shall we go? I believe it istime. "

"Where is mamma?" I asked, looking about in some bewildermentnow. 

"Mrs. Randolph and the rest have gone on; they are somedistance ahead of us by this time. "

And what were they all thinking too, by this time! In greatdismay I turned to go after them with my unwelcome companion. We walked in silence; I blaming myself greatly for stupidnessand blindness and selfish preoccupation, which had made melook at nobody's affairs but my own; and grieving sadly toofor the mischief I had done. 

"Mayn't we be friends, Mr. Marshall?" I said somewhat timidlyat last; for I could not bear the silence. 

"I can never be anything else, " he said. "You may alwayscommand me. But I have not misunderstood you, Daisy? You meantto tell me that - _some one_ has been more fortunate than I, andbeen beforehand with me ?"

"I did not mean to tell you that, " I said in a good deal ofconfusion. 

"But it is true ?" he said, looking searchingly at me. 

"Nobody knows it, Hugh, " I said. "Not my mother nor myfather. "

The silence fell again and again became painful. The others ofour party were well in advance. - We caught no glimpse of themyet. 

"We will be friends, Mr. Marshall?" - I said anxiously. 

"Yes, we will be friends, Daisy; but I cannot be a friend nearyou. I cannot see you any longer. I shall be a wreck now, Isuppose. You might have made me - anything !"

"You will make yourself a noble name and place in the world, "I said, laying my hand on his arm. "The name and the place ofa servant of God. Won't you, Hugh? Then you will come to truejoy, and honour - the joy and honour that God gives. Let mehave the joy of knowing that! I have done so much mischief, -let me know that the mischief is mended. "

"What mischief have you done?" he asked, with his voiceroughened by feeling. 

"I did not know what I was leading you - and others - into. "

"You led to nothing; except as the breath of a rose leads oneto stretch out one's hand for it, " he answered. "The rose hasas much design!"

He turned aside hastily, stooped for a little twig that lay onthe roadside, and began assiduously breaking it up. And thesilence was not interrupted again, till we came in sight ofour friends in advance of us, leisurely walking to let us comeup. Then Hugh and I plunged into conversation; but what it wasabout I have not the least remembrance. It lasted though, tillwe joined company with the rest of our party, and the talkbecame general. Still I do not know what we talked about. Ihad a feeling of thunder in the air, though the very stillnessof sunlight beauty was on the smooth water and the hillyshore; and I saw clouds rising and gathering, even though MontBlanc as we returned that evening showed rosy hues to its verysummit in the clear heaven. I can hardly tell how, my mother'smanner or something in it, made me sure both of the clouds andthe thunder. It was full of grace, tact and spirit, to such apoint of admiration. Yet I read in it, yes, and in that verygrace and spirit, a certain state of the nervous powers whichtold of excitement at work, or a fund of determinationgathering; the electric forces massing somewhere; and thisluminous play only foretold the lightning. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A TRUCE

It is odd with what significance little things become endued, from their connection with other things which are not little. I remember the white dress mamma wore the next day, and thered cashmere scarf she had wrapped round her. I remember howhappy and easy the folds of her drapery were, and how Inoticed her graceful slow movements, Surely grace is a naturalattribute of power, even though power be not always graceful;at least any uncertainty of meaning or manner is fatal togracefulness. There was no uncertainty about mamma ever, unless the uncertainty of carelessness; and that itselfbelonged to power. There was no uncertainty in any fold of hercashmere that morning; in any movement of her person, slow andreposeful as every movement was. I knew by a sort of instinctwhat it all meant. Indeed these were mamma's ordinarycharacteristics; only appearing just now with the bloom ofperfection upon them. She was powerful and she knew it; I knewmyself naturally no match for her. It was always very hard forme to withstand mamma. Nothing but the sense of right evergave me courage to do it. But striving for the right, theChristian is not at his own charges, and has other strengththan his own to depend upon. 

"You do not eat, my darling, " papa said to me. 

"Daisy has too much to think of, " said mamma with a sort ofcareless significance. "I will have another bit of chicken, if you please, Mr. Randolph. "

"What is she thinking of?"

"Girls' thoughts are unfathomable, " said mamma. 

"_Is_ it thoughts, Daisy?" said my father. 

"I suppose it may be, papa. "

"Then I shall do something to break up thinking, " he said. 

But I knew I must not look for help so. To appeal to one of myparents against the other, was what it would never answer todo, even if I could have done it. I felt alone; but I was asquiet as mamma. I had not so good an appetite. 

In the course of the morning she had me up stairs to considerthe matter of dresses and fashions; and we were turning over aquantity of laces and jewels. Mamma tried one and another setof stones upon me and in my hair. 

"Rubies and pearls are your style, " she said at length. "Diamonds are out of harmony, somehow. You are magnificent, Daisy; and pearls make you look like the Queen of Sheba. Icannot imagine why diamonds do hot suit you. "

"I do not suit them, mamma. "

"Pardon me. You do not know yourself. But girls of your agenever do. That is where mothers are useful, I suppose. Whichis it to be, Daisy?"

"I do not want either, mamma. "

"Yes; that is of course too. But which do you like best, ofthe two? I suppose you have some preference. "

"Mamma, I think I prefer the pearls, but you know -"

Mamma stopped my mouth with a kiss. "Little goose!" she said, - "I am not talking of pearls. Did I not say what I wasthinking of? I supposed we both had the same thought, Daisy, and that you would understand me. "

"I thought it was pearls and rubies, mamma. "

"Well, now you know it is not; and again I come back to myquestion, - Which is it to be?"

"Which - of what, mamma?"

"Nonsense, Daisy; - you know. "

"I know nothing of any choice that I have to make, ma'am, ifyou do not mean about jewels; and of them, as I said, I shouldprefer neither. "

"You may choose and refuse among jewels, " said my mother, -"and refuse and choose; but among some other things it isnecessary to make a choice and stick to it. "

"Yes, mamma; but I am not in such a necessity. "

"What choice have you made, then? It is the same thing, Daisy;only I want to know. Do you not think it is reasonable that Ishould know?"

"Please explain yourself, mamma. "

"Hugh Marshall, then, and Charles De Saussure. What is yourmind about them?"

"I like them, mamma, as your friends and as mine, - very well, - but no more. "

"Only very well. "

"No more, mamma. "

"Very well, is a good deal, " said mamma coolly. "Which of themmust I like a little more than very well, Daisy?"

"Mamma? -"

"Whoever owns and possesses you, I should wish to like verymuch. Which is it to be, Daisy?"

"Neither of these gentlemen, mamma. "

"Did De Saussure propose to you yesterday?"

"Yes. "

"What did you say to him?"

"I made him understand that he was nothing to me. "

"He is something to me, " said mamma. "He is one of the firstyoung men I know, and has one of the finest estates - close byyours, Daisy. "

"Estates are nothing in such a matter, mamma. "

"That is like saying that pearls and rubies are nothing onsuch a skin as yours, " said mamma laughing. "But you may thinkof the men, Daisy, and I will think of the estates; that isall _en rčgle_. "

"I do not wish to think of these men, mamma. "

"It is late in the day to say that. You must have thought ofthem both, Daisy, and long ago. "

"It never entered my head till yesterday, mamma, that eitherof them liked me. "

"You must have seen it for weeks past. "

"I did not, mamma, - I never thought of such a thing aspossible, till yesterday. "

"Is it a possible thing, " said mamma, "that a daughter of minecan be such a simpleton? It is time you were married, Daisy, if you can break hearts like that, without knowing it. "

"Better be a simpleton than wicked, " I said. 

"And that comes to the point, " said mamma. "You have mostunaccountably encouraged the addresses of these gentlemen -and seeing that you did, so have I; - now, to clear bothyourself and me, let your preference be made known. It neednot take you long to make your mind up, I suppose. "

"I am very sorry, mamma. I have done wrong; I have been veryfoolish; but I cannot do worse. I do not like either of thesegentlemen well enough for what you mean. "

"If you have done wrong, you can mend it, " said mamma. "Likingwill come fast enough, Daisy; a girl like you does not thinkshe can like anybody but her father and mother; she finds outher mistake in time. So will you. I will decide for you, ifyou have no choice. Charles De Saussure is my friend, and Ithink he is most of a man of the two. I will tell Charles thatyou will make him happy by and by. "

"No, mamma, I will not. Do not tell him so. "

"Do you like Hugh Marshall better?"

"I do not like either of them in the way you mean. "

"Do you like Hugh better? Answer me. "

"Mamma -"

"No, answer me. A plain answer. Do you like Hugh better?"

"A great deal better; but -"

"That settles it, " said mamma. "You shall be Hugh Marshall'swife. Don't tell me a word against it, Daisy, for I will nothear you. I do not like Marshall as well, myself, but hisproperty is even larger, I believe; and as I am not in love, Imay be allowed to think of such things. It is away over on theMississippi; but we cannot help that. I will make Hugh happyto-day, and then - you shall, Daisy. "

"No, mamma, - never. It cannot be. "

"It must, Daisy. You have compromised yourself, and me. Youhave allowed these gentlemen's attentions; you have been seeneverywhere with them; you owe it to yourself and them todeclare your choice of one of them now. You must make up yourmind to it. If you are not in love, it cannot be helped; thatwill come in time; but I think you are. Hey, Daisy?" she said, lifting my chin with her forefinger and looking into my face, - "isn't it true? Isn't it true? Ah, silly thing! - Eyes thatare wells of sweetness for somebody - for all down they go, -a mouth that has smiles enough for somebody, - though ittrembles, - and what does this rose leaf mean, that isstealing over every one of your two cheeks? it is a witness tosomebody, who has brought it there. Go - I know all about it. You may make your confession to Hugh, if you like it best. "

I thought mamma would have broken my heart. I rose up indespair. 

"To-day, Daisy, " mamma repeated. "It must be done to-day. "

What could I say? I did not know. 

"Mamma, it is not as you think. I do not care for HughMarshall. "

"Is it De Saussure, then?" she asked, turning quickly upon me. 

"No, mamma. "

"Is it Preston Gary?" she asked, with a change in her voice. 

"No, Oh, no, mamma!"

"Then it is one of these. Daisy, I protest I have not skillenough to find out _which_ of them; but you know, and that issufficient. And they must know too; there can be no more ofthis three-cornered game. It is time to put an end to it. Ihave read you, if you have not read yourself; and now, mychild, you must be content to let the rose blossom, that youkeep so carefully folded up in its green leaves. One of thesegentlemen will leave us presently; and the other, whichever itis, I shall consider and treat as your acknowledged suitor;and so _must you, Daisy_. He will be going home to the war, hetoo, in a short time more; and he must go with the distinctunderstanding that when the war is over, you will reward himas he wants to be rewarded. Not; till then, child. You willhave time enough to think about it. "

My mother had shut my lips. I was afraid to say anything goodor bad. She had read me; yes, I felt that she had, when shelooked into my face and touched my cheeks and kissed my lips, which I knew well enough were trembling, as she had said. Shehad read me, all but the name in my heart. What if she hadread that? The least movement now on my part might bring it tothe light; what if it came? I did not know what then, and Iwas greatly afraid. An old awe of my mother and sense of herpower, as well as knowledge of her invincible determination, filled me with doubt and fear. She might write to Mr. Thoroldat once and forbid him ever to think of me; she might send himword that I was engaged to Mr. De Saussure. And indeed I mightalso possibly clear my own action to Mr. Thorold; but changehers, never. My faith failed, I believe. I was like Abrahamwhen he went into Egypt and feared somebody would kill him toget possession of his wife. I did not, like him, resort to afiction for my safety; but neither did I trust God and daretell the truth. 

My own will was as good as mamma's. I was not afraid of weaklyyielding some time or other; I was only afraid of her outsidemeasures. 

She resumed her occupation of trying laces and jewels on me;finally laughed, chucked me under the chin, kissed me, calledme a pretty goose, and bade me go and dress myself "forwhomever I liked best. " I went to my room to have theheartache. 

I had given up the management of myself; I was not strugglingnow; I knew there would be a way out of all my perplexitiessome time; but nevertheless my heart ached. I did dressmyself, however, for that is an important part of a woman'swork; and I went down stairs with a vague hope in my heartthat I might see Hugh and somehow enlist him on my side, sofar at least as to make him delay his departure; though Icould not imagine how I could ask it, nor what I could say tohim of any sort that would benefit me or that would not do himharm. But I thought in vain. I did not see him. Mr. DeSaussure came, and played chess with me all the evening. Iplayed very ill, and he won every game, till I thought hewould stop for the very stupidness of it. 

Some painful days followed that day; during which mammamanaged to make me accept Mr. De Saussure's attentions inpublic and in private. She managed it; I could not escape themwithout making a violent protest, and I did not of coursechoose that. Hugh Marshall was gone; he had come only to takea hurried leave of us; suddenly obliged to return home, hesaid; "he had lingered too long. " Mr. De Saussure's eyesflashed with I triumph; every line of mamma's face (to me)expressed satisfaction, of course gracefully concealed fromeverybody else. But Hugh and I parted with a great grasp ofthe hand, which I am sure came from both our hearts and leftmine very sore. Then he was gone. After that, Mr. De Saussuretook Hugh's place and his own too in our little society; andfor a few days things went on in a train which I knew waspreparing mischief. 

Then one night the explosion came. We were out on the lake ina boat; mamma, Mr. De Saussure, and I; we had gone to see thecolours come and go on the great head of Mont Blanc. In theglory of the sight, I had forgotten who was with me and whereI was, for the moment; and I was thinking of the colours andlights of the New Jerusalem, than which those before me seemedscarcely less unearthly. Thinking, with a pang at the distancebetween; with a longing for those pure heights where humanlife never casts its flickering shadow; with a cry for Thoroldin my heart, whom every sight of joy or beauty was sure tobring before me. I was rudely recalled from my momentarydream, though it was by my mother's soft voice. 

"Daisy -"

I started and came back to earth and the Lake of Geneva. 

"Mr. De Saussure is going soon to leave us and return home -you know for what. Before he goes, he desires the satisfactionof kissing your hand. I suppose he would have liked a littlemore, but I have only promised the hand. "

"I have explained myself to Mr. De Saussure, mamma; he isunder no mistake. "

"So I have told him. He could not ask more than you have givenhim; but leaving us for a long while, Daisy, and on such aservice, a little further grace would not be ill bestowed. Ishall give him leave, if you do not, " she added laughing; "andI may give him more than you would like, Daisy. "

I think at that minute I felt as if I would like to make onespring out of this world and all its confusions into thatother world I had been thinking of; but one does not get quitof one's troubles so easily. That minute on the Lake of Genevawas one of the _ugliest_ I have ever known. Mamma was smooth anddetermined; Mr. De Saussure looked triumphant and expectant;for a moment my heart shrank, but I do not think I showed itoutwardly. 

"Daisy -" said mamma, smiling. 

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Mr. De Saussure is waiting. Will you speak the word? - orshall I?"

"I have spoken to Mr. De Saussure, " I said, coldly. 

"Not very clearly. He understands you better now. "

"Permit me to say, " put in blandly Mr. De Saussure, - "that Iam rejoiced to find I did _not_ understand you at a formerconversation we held together. Mrs. Randolph has been my kindinterpreter. You will not _now_ refuse me?" he said, as heendeavoured to insinuate his fingers into mine. 

"Kiss her, Charles!" said mamma; "she is a coy girl. I giveyou leave. "

And before I could anticipate or prevent it, Mr. De Saussure'sarm was round me and the salute was given. I think mammareally thought she could bestow me away as she pleased. I amsure she had no idea of the nature she was combating. Nobodyhad ever withstood her successfully; she did not think that Icould be the first. But this little thing - it was not alittle thing to me at the time - cut the knot of mydifficulties. Released from Mr. De Saussure's encircling arm, I removed myself to the other side of the boat and drew myshawl round me. I do not know what significance was in myaction, but mamma said, "Nonsense!"

"I have not offended, have I?" said Mr. De Saussure. "Remember, I had liberty. "

"Mamma, " I said, "if you will sit a little further that way, you will restore the balance of the boat. "

"Which you have entirely disarranged, Daisy, " she said as shemoved herself. 

"Daisy will acknowledge I had liberty, " Mr. De Saussurerepeated. 

"Mamma, " I said, "don't you think it is growing chill?"

"Row us home, Charles, " said my mother. "And, Daisy, don't bea fool. Mr. De Saussure had liberty, as he says. "

"I do not acknowledge it, ma'am. "

"You must give her line, Charles, " mamma said, half laughingbut vexed. "She is a woman. "

"I hope she will grant me forgiveness, " he said. "She mustremember, I _thought_ I had liberty. "

"I shall not forget, " I answered. "I understand, that respectfor me failed before respect for my mother. "

"But! -" he began. 

"Be quiet, Charles, " my mother interrupted him. "Pull us toshore; and let fits of perverseness alone till they go off. That is my counsel to you. "

And the remainder of our little voyage was finished inprofound silence. I knew mamma was terribly vexed, but at thesame time I was secretly overjoyed; for I saw that she yieldedto me, and I knew that I should have no more trouble with Mr. De Saussure. 

I did not. He lingered about for a few days longer, in moodystyle, and then went away and I saw him no more. During thosedays I had nothing to do with him. But my mother had almost aslittle to do with me. She was greatly offended; and also, Isaw, very much surprised. The woman Daisy could not be quitethe ductile thing the child Daisy had been. I took refuge withpapa whenever I could. 

"What is all this about De Saussure and Marshall?" he askedone day. 

"They have both gone home. "

"I know they have; but what sent them home?"

"Mamma has been trying to make them go, this long while, youknow, papa. She wanted them to go and join Beauregard. "

"And will they? Is that what they are gone for?"

"I do not know if they will, papa. I suppose Mr. De Saussurewill. "

"And not Marshall?"

"I do not know about him. "

"What did _you_ do, Daisy?"

"Papa - you know I do not like the war. "

"How about liking the gentlemen?"

"I am glad they are gone. "

"Well, so am I, " papa answered; "but what had you to do withsending them home?"

"Nothing, papa, - only that I unfortunately did not want themto stay. "

"And you could not offer them any reward for going?"

"Papa, a man who would do such a thing for _reward_, would notbe a man. "

"I think so too, Daisy. Your mother somehow takes a differentview. "

"She cares only for the soldier, papa; not for the man. "

Papa was silent and thoughtful. 

There were no other intimate friends about us in Geneva; andour life became, I must confess, less varied and pleasantafter the young men had gone. At first I felt only the relief;then the dulness began to creep in. Papa led the life of aninvalid, or of one who had been an invalid; not an active lifein any way; I thought, not active enough for his good. Somehours I got of reading with him; reading to him, and talkingof what we read; they did my father good, and me too; but theywere few, and often cut short. As soon as mamma joined us, ourbooks had to be laid aside. They bored her, she said, orhindered her own reading; and she and papa played draughts andchess and piquet. Mamma was not in a bored state at othertimes; for she was busy with letters and plans andarrangements, always in a leisurely way, but yet busy. It wasa sort of business with which I had no sympathy, and whichtherefore left me out. The cause of the South was not mycause; and the discussion of toilettes, fashions, costumes andsociety matters, was entirely out of my line. In all these, mamma found her element. Ransom was no resource to anybody;and of course not to me, with whom, now as ever, he had littlein common. Mamma held me aloof, ever since Mr. De Saussure'sdeparture; and I only knew indirectly, as it were, that shewas planning a social campaign for me and meditating overadornments and advantages which should help to make ittriumphant. Life in this way was not altogether enjoyable. Theonly conversation which could be said to be general among us, was on the subject of home affairs in America. That rung in myears every day. 

"Glorious news, sir!" cried Ransom one day as he came in todinner. "Glorious news! The first real news we have had in along time. "

"What is it?" said my father; and "What, Ransom?" my motherasked, with a kindling eye. My heart sank. Those know whoremember those times, how one's heart used to sink when newscame. 

"What is it, Ransom?"

"Why, a large body of them, the Yankees, got across thePotomac the night of the 20th; got in a nest of oursharpshooters and were well riddled; then, when they couldn'tstand it any longer, they fell back to the river and tried toget across again to the other side, where they came from; andthey had no means of getting across, nothing but a couple ofold scows; so they went into the water to get away from thefire, and quantities of them were drowned, and those that werenot drowned were shot. Lost a great many, and their commandingofficer killed. That's the way. They'll have enough of it intime. The war'll be over in a few weeks or months more. DeSaussure will not have time to raise his regiment. I don'tthink, mamma, it's any use for me to go home, it'll be over sosoon. "

"Where was this?" inquired my father. 

"Some place - Ball's Bluff, I believe. It was a grand affair. "

"How many did they lose?" my mother said. 

"Oh, I don't know - some thousands. We lost nothing to speakof. But the thing is, they will lose heart. They will neverstand this sort of thing. They have no officers, you know, andthey can have no soldiers. They will be obliged to give up. "

Words were in my heart, but my lips knew better than to speakthem. _Had_ they no officers? Had Christian no soldiers underhim? My head was ready to believe it; my heart refused. Yet Ithought too I had seen at the North the stuff that soldiersare made of. 

"If I were you, " said my mother, "I would not let it all beover before I had a part in it. "

"The war is not ended yet, Felicia, " my father remarked; "andit will take more than a few hard knocks to make them giveup. "

"They have had nothing but hard knocks, sir, since it began, "Ransom cried. 

"Your father always takes a medium view of everything, " mymother said. "If it depended on him, I believe there would beno war. "

"I should have one other vote for peace, " papa said, lookingat me. 

"It is well Daisy was not born a boy!" Ransom said. 

"I hope you will not make me wish you had been born a girl, "my father replied. "Strength is no more noble when it ceasesto be gentle. "

"Must not every woman wish for peace?" I said. It was anunhappy attempt at a diversion, and if I had not been in ahurry I should not have made it. 

"No, " my mother answered, not sharply, but with colddistinctness. "Before the South should submit to the dictationor reproof of Northern boors and fanatics, I would take amusket myself and die in the trenches. "

"It is an ugly place to die in, my dear, " answered my father. 

"See Daisy shiver!" Ransom exclaimed; and he burst into alaugh, "Mamma, Daisy's blood has grown thin at the North. Sheis not a true Southern woman. There is no fire in you, Daisy. "

Not at that moment, for I was sick and cold, as he said. Icould not get accustomed to these things, with all thepractice I had. 

"No fire in her?" said papa, calmly. "There is ammunitionenough, Ransom. I don't want to see the fire, for my part. Iam glad there is one of us that keeps cool. My darling, youlook pale - what is it for?"

"Fire that burns with a blue flame, " said mamma. 

"Blue?" - said papa, with a look at me which somehow set us allto laughing. 

"The carmine is coming in again, " said mamma. "I profess I donot understand you, Daisy. "

I was afraid she began to suspect me. 

It was very true that mamma did not understand me; and it wasthe unhappiness of my life. I tried hard to narrow thedistance between us, by every opportunity that the days or thehours gave; and a certain accord was after a time establishedanew in our relations with each other. Mamma again took toadorning and playing with me; again studied my toilettes andsuperintended my dressing; made me as exquisite as herself inall outward paraphernalia. I let her alone; in this at least Icould gratify her; and no occasion of gratifying her was to belost. Papa was pleased too, though I think it made lessdifference to him what I was dressed in; yet he observed me, and smiled in a way to show his pleasure whenever a new deviceof mamma's produced a new effect. She sought society forherself and me now. We removed from Geneva and went toFlorence. I was thankful it was not to Paris. Every foot ofItaly had great charms for me; and I dreamed over Florence, with a delighted fancy that never grew tired or tame. That myevenings were spent in what I did not care for, could notspoil my days. Our walks and drives, which papa and I oftennow took alone, were delicious beyond expression. I forgot thewhirl of the night before and of the evening to come, and Iwas the child Daisy again, I think, in very much. At nightmamma had me. 

There was a lull at this time in the news from home. Bothparties in America were gathering up their strength; and inthe mean time the only affairs we heard of were inconclusiveskirmishes, sometimes turning out for the advantage of oneside, sometimes of the other; but not to signal advantage foranybody. I hoped, with such a lull, that things might subsideinto a state susceptible of composition. I might havereasoned, if I looked at home, upon the unlikelihood of anysuch thing. No news of advantages lost or gained had anyeffect upon my mother and brother but to make them more keenin the cause and more relentless in pursuit of their end. Thehearing of a trifling success was like a taste of blood to thelion; the loss of Beaufort and its forts was turned into anoccasion of triumph because "the great naval expedition" hadaccomplished no greater things. They laughed at McClellan'sreview of troops; and counted up the gains his adversarieswere to realise from the co-operation of foreign well-wishers. And then the taking of Mason and Slidell put them into a fumeof indignation and scorn. My father shared, though moregently, in all this. I was alone. Could I tell them that myheart was with the Northern army; and how it went out afterevery gleam of one particular sabre?

My mother drew me into society by degrees. I hardly knew wherethe line was passed, between quiet conversaziones andbrilliant and courtly assemblies. It was passed when I wasunwitting of it, or when I felt unable to help it. My motherhad been so much alienated by my behaviour toward Marshall andDe Saussure, that I thought it needful to please her by everymeans in my power, short of downright violation of conscience. "Children, obey your parents _in the Lord_, " - I did not forget;I thought I was doing the very thing. For it was not to pleasemyself, that I let my mother make me look as she chose and lether take me - where she would. My heart was too sore to beambitious and too sober to feel the flutterings of vanity. Iknew the effect of her doings was often what satisfied her;but the nearest approach to a thrill of vanity in myself was, I think, the wish that Christian could see me. And as he couldnot, I seemed to wear an armour of proof against other eyes. Idid not care for them. 

Nevertheless, I began to be sensible that they cared for me. Iobeyed my mother at first because she signified her will veryabsolutely, and allowed me to see that any refusal on my partwould make a breach between us. I left myself in her hands, todress and adorn and lead about as she liked; I could not helpit without an effort that would have parted us. And besides, Ibelieve I accepted these engrossments of society as a sedativeto keep me from thinking. They took a great deal of tine andoccupied my attention while they lasted. 

By degrees there came a change. As I said, I was admired. Atfirst I cared little for any eyes but those which could notsee me; but that did not last. I began to like to be admired. Soon after that, it dimly dawned upon me, that some of thosewhom I saw now every day, might come to admire me too much. Ihad learnt a lesson. There were several gentlemen, whosesociety I liked very well, who gave us, I began to perceive, agreat deal of it. I saw them at night; I saw them by day; theymet us in our walks; they even joined us in our rides. One wasa German; a very cultivated and agreeable talker, well-bred, and in high position at Florence. Another was a delightfulItalian; poor I think. A third was a young English nobleman;rich, but nothing more that I could discover. The Germantalked to me; the Italian sang with me; the Englishmanfollowed me, and was most at home in our house of them all. Ihad been taking the good of all this, in a nice society way, enjoying the music and the talk and the information I got fromthe two first, and I am afraid enjoying too the flowers andthe attentions of the third, as well as of still others whom Ihave not mentioned. I was floating down a stream and I had notthought about it, only enjoyed in a careless way; till alittle thing startled me. 

"We do not have so much time for our walks as we used, Daisy, "papa said one day when he came into the drawing-room and foundme with my habit on. "Where are you going now?"

"To ride, papa, with Lord Montjoy. "

"My Daisy is not a daisy any longer, " said papa, folding me inhis arms. "She has grown into a white camellia. Going to ridewith Lord Montjoy! -"

I cannot say what in these last words of papa gave me a wholerevelation. 

"I think you are mistaken, papa, " I said. "I am Daisy yet. "

"I _was_ mistaken, " said papa smiling, but rather shadowedly, Ithought; - "I should have said a rose camellia. Here is LordMontjoy, my dear. Go. "

I am sure Lord Montjoy had little satisfaction in that ride;at least I am sure I had little. I was longing for time tothink, and frightened besides. But when the ride was over, mamma wanted me; the evening claimed me for a grand reception;the morning held me in sleep; we had company at luncheon; Iwas engaged with another riding party in the afternoon, andanother assembly expected me at night. I could not rest orthink, as I wanted to think, till night and morning had againtwo or three times tossed me about as a society ball. I thinkone's mind gets to be something like a ball too, when onelives such a life; all one's better thoughts rolled up, like ahybernating hedgehog, and put away as not wanted for use. Ihad no opportunity to unroll mine for several days. 

But I could not bear this state of things long; and at last Iexcused myself from a party one morning and went to walk withpapa; and then that hedgehog of thoughts began to stir andunfold and come to life. Still I wanted quiet. We had beengoing through a picture gallery, where I did not see thepictures; then, as often before, I persuaded papa to walk onfurther and take post where we could look at our leisure onthe beautiful Dome. This was an unceasing pleasure to me. Papawas not so fond of it; he came for my sake, as he often wasaccustomed to do. To-day, instead of soothing, its majesticbeauty roused all there was to rouse within me. I suppose wewere a long time silent, but I do not know. 

"Daisy, you are very quiet, " papa said at length. 

"Yes papa, " I said, rousing myself. "I was thinking. "

"That is an old disease of yours, my pet. I wish I could enjoythat great Dome as much as you do. "

"Papa, it is so perfect!"

"The Grecian temples suit me better, Daisy. "

"Not me, papa. "

"Why do they not? What can equal their grace and symmetry?"

"It is cold beauty, papa; there is nothing to lift thethoughts up; and I don't believe those who built them had anyhigh thoughts - spiritual thoughts, I mean, papa. "

"And you think the builder of the Dome of Florence had?"

"Yes, sir - I think so. "

"The one means no more to me than the other, Daisy. "

"Papa, " I said, "don't you remember, when you sent me word Imust stay two years longer in school without seeing you andmamma, you sent me a promise too? - by Aunt Gary. "

"I remember very well, Daisy. Are you going to claim thepromise?"

"Papa, may I?"

"Certainly. "

"But, papa, -does the promise stand good, like Herod's promiseto that dancing woman? is it to be whatever I ask?"

"I believe I said so, Daisy. By the way, why do you not likedancing?"

"I suppose I should like it, papa, if I let myself do it. "

"Why not let yourself do it? You do not want to make yourselfsingular, Daisy. "

"No more than I must, papa. But about your promise. "

"Yes. Well?"

"It stands good, papa? if it is 'to the half of yourkingdom. ' "

"That was a rash promise of Herod, Daisy. "

"Yes, papa; but I am not a dancing girl. "

Papa laughed, and looked at me, and laughed again, and seemeda good deal amused. 

"What put that argument into your mouth?" he said. "And whatis the reason that it is an argument? You are very absurd, Daisy! You are very absurd not to dance; so your mother says;and I am absurd too, by that reasoning; for I like you betterthan if you did. Well, not being a dancing girl, what is yourpetition? I reckon it will stand good, even to the half of mykingdom. Though indeed I do not know how much of a kingdomwill remain to me, by the time matters are composed at home. There will be no crops grown at the South this year. "

"It would not cost more to go to Palestine, would it, papa, than to live as we are doing now?"

"Palestine!" he exclaimed. "Your mother would never go toPalestine, Daisy. "

"But you and I might, papa, - for a few months. You know mammawants to go to Paris, to be there with Aunt Gary, who iscoming. "

"She wants you there too, Daisy, I much suspect; not to speakof me. "

"What better time can we ever have, papa?"

"I do not know. I am afraid your mother would say any otherwould be better. "

"Papa, I cannot tell you how glad I should be to go now. "

"Why, Daisy?" said papa, looking at me. "To my certainknowledge, there are several people who will be desolate ifyou quit Florence at this time - several besides your mother. "

"Papa, - that is the very reason why I should like to go -before it becomes serious. "

Papa became serious immediately. He lifted my face to look atit, flushed as I suppose it was; and kissed me, with a smilewhich did not in the least belie the seriousness. 

"If we go to Paris, Daisy? - we should leave your enemiesbehind. "

"No papa - two of them are going to Paris when we go. "

"That _is_ serious, " said my father. "After all, why not, Daisy?"

"Oh, papa, let us get away while it is time!" I said. "Mammawas so displeased with me because of Mr. De Saussure and Mr. Marshall; and she will be again - perhaps. "

"Why, Daisy, " said papa, lifting my face again for scrutiny, -"how do you know? Are you cased in proof armour? are you sure?Do you know what you are talking of, Daisy?"

"Yes, - I know, papa. "

"I see you do. Whenever your eyes are deep and calm like that, you are always in your right mind and know it. That is, youare thoroughly yourself; and so far as my limited acquaintancewith you goes, there is no other mind that has the power ofturning you. Yes, Daisy; we will go to Palestine, you and I. "

I kissed his hand, in the extremity of my joy. 

"But this is not a proper season for travelling in Syria, mypet. I am afraid it is not. The winter rains make the roadsbad. "

"Oh, yes, papa. - We will be quiet when it rains, and travelon the good days. And then we shall be in time to see thespring flowers. "

"How do you know anything about that, Daisy?"

"Papa, I remember when I was a child, at Melbourne, Mr. Dinwiddie told me some of these things; and I have neverforgotten. "

"Have you wanted to go to Palestine ever since you were tenyears old?"

"Oh, no, papa; only of late. When your promise came, then Ithought very soon what I would ask you. And now is such a goodtime. "

"There will be different opinions about that, " said my father. "However, we will go, Daisy. To the half of my kingdom. Yourmother has the other half. But allow me to ask you just inpassing, what do you think of our young English friend?"

"He has no head, papa. "

Papa looked amused. 

"Signor Piacevoli - what do you think of him?"

"He is very nice and kind and full of good things; but he hasno principles, papa; no settled principles. "

"He has a head, " said papa. 

"Yes, sir; out of order. "

"How do you estimate Mr. Leypoldt, then? - _his_ head is inorder, and a good deal in it. "

"Only the truth left out, papa. "

"The truth?" said my father. "He is fuller of truth, of allsorts, than any one else I know, Daisy. "

"Truth of all sorts, papa, but not _the_ truth. He understandsthe world, and almost everything in it; but not who made itnor what it was made for; and he knows men; but not theirwork, or place, or destiny in the universe. He knows what theyare; he has no idea what they ought to be, or what they maybe. "

"He is not a religious man, certainly. Do you carry yourprinciples so far, Daisy, that you mean you would not letanybody approach you who is not of your way of thinking?"

A pang shot through my heart, with the instant sense of theanswer I ought to give. I might have evaded the question; butI would not. Yet I could not immediately speak. I was going toput a bond upon myself; and the words would not come. 

"Do you mean that, Daisy?" papa repeated. "Seriously. Is ityour rule of supposed duty, that a man must be a Christianafter your sort, to obtain your favour?"

"Papa, " I said struggling, - "one cannot control one'sliking. "

"No, " said papa, laughing; "that is very true. Then if you_liked_ somebody who was not that sort of a Christian, Daisy, you would not refuse to marry him?"

"Papa, " I said with difficulty, - "I think I ought. "

The words struck upon my own heart, I cannot tell how heavily. But they were forced from me. When the question came, it hadto be answered. I suppose the matter had really been in mymind before, vaguely, and I had refused to look at it, whileyet I could not help seeing its proportions and bearing; sothat when papa asked me I knew what I must say. But the spokenwords stunned me, for all that. 

"I suppose, " said papa, not lightly, "you will think so tillyou are tried; and then you will take a woman's privilege ofchanging your mind. But if the trial is to come in that shape, Daisy, it is very far off. There are no men of your way ofthinking, my pet. "

He kissed me as he said it; and I could not for a momentspeak. 

"But we will go to Palestine, papa?"

"Yes, we will go to Palestine. That is fixed. You and I willtake a holiday, and for a while give up all thoughts ofmarrying and giving in marriage. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

FLIGHT

I am coming to the holiday of my life; a time that seems, as Ilook back to it, like a chequered mosaic of pleasure pieceslaid in bright colours, all in harmony, and making out apattern of beauty. It is odd I should speak so; for I haveknown other holidays, when fewer clouds were in my sky andfewer life-shadows stretching along the landscape. Nevertheless, this is how it looks to me in the retrospect;and to write of it, is like setting the pins of that mosaicwork over again. Not one of them is lost in my memory. 

Truly I have known other holidays; yet never one that took meout of so much harassment and perplexity. And I could not getrid of all my burdens, even in Palestine; but somehow I gotrid of all my anxious trouble about them. I had left behind somuch, that I accepted even thankfully all that remained. I wasfree from mamma's schemes for me, and cleared from the pursuitof those who seconded her schemes; they could not follow me inthe Holy Land. No more angry discussions of affairs at home, and words of enmity and fierce displeasure toward the part ofthe nation that held my heart. No more canvassing of war news;not much hearing of them, even; a clean escape from thedemands of society and leisure for a time to look into myheart and see what condition it was in. And to my greatastonishment I had found the love of admiration and theambition of womanly vanity beginning to stir again; in me, whoknew better things, and who really did not value these; in me, who had so much to make me sober and keep down thoughts offolly. I found that I had a certain satisfaction when enteringa room, to know that the sight of me gave pleasure; yes, more;I liked to feel that the sight of no one else gave so muchpleasure. I could hardly understand, when I came to look atit, how so small a satisfaction could have taken possession ofmy mind; I was very much ashamed; but the fact remained. Whenwe set sail for Palestine I got clear, at least for the time, from all this. I hoped for ever. - And it was exceedinglysweet to find myself alone with papa. 

How mamma ever consented to the plan, I do not know. Becausepapa had settled it and given his word, perhaps; for in thosecases I know she never interfered; necessity made her yield. She would not go with us; she went to Paris, where Aunt Garywas come for the winter. Ransom went home to join the army;and papa and I took our holiday. I ought not to have been sohappy, with so many causes of anxiety on my mind; Ransom inthe war on one side, and Christian already engaged on theopposite side; both in danger, not to speak of other friendswhom I knew; and my own and Mr. Thorold's future so very darkto look forward to. But I was happy. I believe, the veryenormous pressure of things to trouble me, helped me to throwoff the weight. In fact, it was too heavy for me to bear. Ihad trusted and given up myself to God; it was not a mocktrust or submission; I laid off my cares, or in the expressiveBible words, "rolled them" upon him. And then I went light. Even my self-spoken sentence, the declaration that I ought notto marry a person who was not a Christian, did not crush me asI thought it would. Somebody has said very truly, "There is ahealing power in truth. " It is correct in more ways than one. And especially in truth towards God, in whole-hearted devotionto him, or as the Bible says again, in "wholly following theLord, " there is strength and healing; "quietness and assurancefor ever. " I was no nearer despair now than I had been before. And I was more ready for my holiday. 

My holiday began on board the steamer, among the novelvarieties of character and costume by which I found myselfsurrounded. I was certainly getting far away from the Americanwar, far from Parisian saloons; I could not even regret theDome of Florence. And I shall never forget the minute when Ifirst looked upon the coast of Jaffa. I had been in the cabinand papa called me; and with the sight, a full, delicioussensation of pleasure entered my heart, and never left it, Ithink, while I stayed in the land. The picture is all beforeme. The little white town, shining in the western sun on itshill, with its foot in the water; the surf breaking on therocks; and the long line of high land in the distance, which Iknew was the hill country of Palestine. I was glad, with afulness of gladness. Even the terrors of landing through thesurf could not dash my pleasure, though the water was notquiet enough to make it safe, and I did not see how we werepossibly to get through. I thought we would, and we did; andthen out of the confusion on the quay we found our way to anice little hotel. Few things I suppose are nice in Jaffa; butthis really seemed clean, and I am sure it was pleasant. TheOriental style of the house - the courtyard, and alcove rooms, stone floors and cushioned divans, - were delightful to me. And so was our first dinner there; papa and I alone, tired andhungry, and eating with the Mediterranean full in sight, andthe sun going down "ayont the sea. " I established a truce withsorrowful thoughts that evening, and slept the night throughin peace. The next morning papa found me standing at thewindow of one of our rooms that looked inward from the sea. 

"Well, Daisy, " said he, putting his hands on my shoulders - "Ihave got my Daisy of ten years old back again. What is itnow?"

"Oh, papa, " I exclaimed, "look at the housetops! I have readof housetops all my life; and now here they are!"

"They have been here all the time, Daisy. "

"But - it is so impossible to realise without seeing it, papa. It was on such a housetop that Peter was when he had hisvision. You can see, it is the pleasantest part of the house, papa. I should like to sleep on the housetop, as they do insummer; with only the stars over me. How nice!"

"What was Peter's vision, besides the stars?"

"Papa! Not the stars; his vision was at noonday. I have justbeen reading about it. How delicious the Bible will be here!"

"It is always delicious to you, I think, " papa said; I fanciedrather sadly. "It is a taste you were born with. Sit down andread me about that vision. "

But it was papa that sat down, and I stood by the window, andwe read together those chapters of the Acts; and papa grewvery much interested, and we had an excellent talk allbreakfast time. The strange dishes at breakfast helped theinterest too; the boiled rice and meat, and the fish and thepomegranates. I seemed to have my living in Bible times aswell as places. The Mediterranean lay sparkling before us; asit was before Peter no doubt when he went up to that housetopto pray. The house is gone; but it is the same sea yet. 

"I shall always look upon Jaffa with respect, " said papa, atlast; "since here it was that the gates of religion werepublicly set open for all the world, and the key taken out ofthe hands of the Jews. It is a little place too, to haveanything of so much interest belonging to it. "

"That is not all, papa, " I said. "Solomon had the cedar forthe Temple, and for all his great buildings, floated downhere. "

"Solomon!" said papa. 

"Don't you remember, sir, his great works, and the timber hehad to get from Lebanon?"

"Did it come this way?"

"The only way it could come, papa; and then it had to go byland up to Jerusalem - the same way that we are going; thirty-three miles. "

"Where did you learn so much about it?"

"That isn't much, papa; all that is in Murray; but now may Iread you about Solomon's floats of timber, while you arefinishing that pomegranate?"

"Read away, " said papa. "Pomegranates are not ripe now, arethey?"

"They keep, papa. "

Papa laughed at me, and I read to him as much as I liked; andhe was almost as much engaged as I was. 

"We'll go out and look at this famous harbour for lumber, " hesaid. "It is not good for much else, Daisy; I thoughtyesterday we should certainly make shipwreck on that reef. Isit possible there is no better along the coast. "

"It is not what we would call a harbour at all, papa. Nothingbut little boats can get through that narrow opening in thereef; and I suppose, Solomon's cedar timber got through. "

"The ships of old time were not much more than our boats, manyof them, " said my father. "How delightfully you realiseeverything, Daisy!"

"Well, papa, - don't you?"

"Not the past, child. I realise _you_ by my side. "

"Papa, if you think about it a little, you will realise Joppatoo. "

"I have not your imagination, Daisy. About Solomon's temple, -there is nothing of it left now, I suppose?"

"Oh, no, papa!"

"It might, Daisy. Thebes is vastly older. "

"But, papa, - don't you remember, there was not one stone ofall those buildings to be left upon another stone. Nothing isleft - only some of the foundation wall that supported thefloor, or the platform, of the Temple. "

"Well, we shall see, when we go to Jerusalem, " my father said. 

In the meantime we went out and took a great walk about theenvirons of Joppa. Through the miles of gardens; the grandorange groves, and pomegranate, lemon, fig, apricot and palmorchards. The oranges and lemons getting their great harvestsready; cultivation going on beneath the trees; the water-wheels working; the curious hedges of prickly pear, four andsix feet high, reminding us all the while, if nothing elsedid, that we were in a very strange land. What endless delightit was! The weather had just cleared the day before; and to-day, the fifteenth of January, the sun shone still and fairand warm. I saw that papa was getting good with every step, and growing interested with every hour. We went down to thebeach, and strolled along as far as the tanneries; every wavethat broke at my side seeming to sing in my ears the reminderthat it broke on the shores of Palestine. Papa wished theoranges were ripe; I wished for nothing. 

Then we entered the city again, and examined the bazars;lingering first a good while to watch the motley, picturesque, strange and wild crowd without the city gate. It was my firsttaste of Oriental life; papa knew it before, but he relishedit all afresh in my enjoyment of it. Of course we were takento see Simon's house and the house where Tabitha died. 

"Do you realise anything here, Daisy?" papa asked, as we stoodon the flat roof of the first of these two. 

"Yes, papa. "

"Pray, what? St. Peter never saw this building, my dear. "

"No, papa, I don't think it. But he saw the Mediterranean -just so, - and he had the same sky over him, and the sameshores before him. "

"The same sky, Daisy? What is the sky?"

"Yes papa, I know; but there is a difference. This Syrian skyis not like the sky over Florence nor like the sky overMelbourne. And this is what Peter saw. "

"You are a delicious travelling companion, Daisy, " said papa. "Your mother is good, but you are better. Well, take me withyou now in your journey into the past. "

We sat down there on the roof of the so-called house of Simon, papa and I; he gave the guide a bonus to keep him contented;and we read together chapters in the Old Testament andchapters in the New. It was drinking water from wells ofdelight. Bible words never seemed so real, nor so full. Andthen when I thought that I was going on to Jerusalem - toJericho - to Mount Tabor, and the Sea of Galilee, and Lebanon, - that Joppa was only the beginning, - I could hardly containmy joy. I could only give thanks for it all the time. True, Idid remember, as I looked over that bright sea of the Levant, I did remember that far away there was a region of conflictwhere the interests nearest to me were involved; a strifegoing on, in which the best blood in the world, the dearest inmy account, might be shed or shedding. I remembered it all. But the burden of that care was too heavy for me to carry; Iwas fain to lay it down where so many a load has been laidbefore now; and it was easier for me to do it in Syria thananywhere else; God's own land, where His people had had somany tokens to trust Him. Where Peter's doubts of consciencewere resolved by a vision, where the poor worker of kindnesswas raised from the sleep of death, it was not there the placefor me to doubt whether the Lord looked upon my trouble, orwhether he cared about it, or whether he could manage it. Ilaid care and doubt to sleep; and while I was in the Lord'sland I walked with the Lord's presence always before me. Thereis no want to them that fear him. 

We were detained at Joppa three days by a most pouring rain, which kept us fast prisoners in doors. The time was howevernot lost. We had despaired of making arrangements at Joppa forour journey, any further than such as would take us toJerusalem. Joppa is no place for such arrangements. But whilewe waited there in the rain, a party of English people arrivedwho came to take the steamer for home. They had just endedtheir travels in the Holy Land; and while waiting for thesteamer, one of them who was an invalid sought the shelter ofour hotel. We came to know each other. And the end was, wesecured their travelling equipment. Tents, servants and all, were made over to papa, with mutual pleasure at thearrangement. So when the sun shone out on the fourth day, wewere ready to start in great comfort. I had a dear littleSyrian pony, which carried me nicely through my whole journey;papa had another that served him well. The tents and tentfittings were in the English style of perfection; cook andinterpreter and other servants knew their business, and we hadno reason to complain of them from the beginning to the end ofour tour. Moreover, in those days of waiting at Joppa, andintercourse with the ladies of the party, I got from them someuseful hints and details which were of great service to meafterwards. I had always wished to go through Palestine livingin our own tents; papa had been a little uncertain how hewould do. Now it was settled. I had my maid, of course; butshe was the greatest trouble I had, all the way. 

The morning of our setting out from Joppa is never to beforgotten. It was clear and balmy. For miles we rode throughthe orange gardens, getting ready fast for their superbharvest, which would be ripe a month later. Then through apleasant open country; - cornfields and meadows interspersedwith trees in patches. It was easy riding, and I liked mypony, and my heart was full of exhilaration. 

"Well?" said papa, as my eye met his one time in the course ofits wanderings. 

"Papa, it is the plain of Sharon!"

"You speak as if it were a place where you had played, whenyou were a child. "

"Papa, in some measure it is like that; so often I have readabout the old things that were done here. "

Papa smiled at me? and asked what? But I could not tell himwhile we were going at a canter. 

"It would be pretty in spring, " he said. "Where are we to stopto-night, Daisy? I have left all that to you. I do not knowthe country as you do. "

"Papa, we set off so late, we shall not be able to get furtherthan Latron to-night. "

"What place is that? is it any place?"

"Supposed to be the Modin of the Maccabees. "

"Have you brought any books, Daisy?" was papa's next question. 

"No, papa, except 'Murray' and the Bible. "

"We ought to have more, " he said. "We must see if we cannotsupply that want at Jerusalem. "

Papa's interest in the subject was thoroughly waking up. Welunched at Ramleh. How present it is to me, those hours wespent there. The olive groves and orchards and cornfields, thepalms and figs, the prickly-pear hedges, the sweet breath ofthe air. And after our luncheon we stayed to examine the ruinsand the minaret. Our master of ceremonies, Suleiman, was alittle impatient. But we got off in good time and reached ourcamping ground just before sunset. Tiere too, the sunlightflashing on those rocks of ruin comes back to me, and the wideplain and sea view which the little hill commands. Papa and Iclimbed it to look at the ruins and see the view while dinnerwas getting ready. 

"What is it, Daisy?" he said. "You must be my gazetteer andinterpreter for the land; Suleiman will do for the people. "

"It is an old Crusaders' fortress, papa; built to command thepass to Jerusalem. "

That was enough for papa. He pored over the rough remains andtheir associations; while I sat down on a stone and lookedover the Philistine plain; scarce able to convince myself thatI was so happy as to see it in reality. Papa and I had a mostenjoyable dinner afterwards; he enjoyed it, I knew; and ournight's rest was sweet, with a faint echo of the war storms ofthe ages breaking upon my ear. 

To my great joy, there was no storm of the elements the nextmorning, and we were able to take up our march for Jerusalem. The road soon was among the hills; rough, thickety, wild; fromone glen into another, down and up steep ridge sides, alwaysmounting of course by degrees. Rough as it all was, there wereolives and vineyards sometimes to be seen; often terracedhillsides which spoke of what had been. At last we came up outof a deep glen and saw at a distance the white line of wallwhich tells of Jerusalem. I believe it was a dreary piece ofcountry which lay between, but I could hardly know what itwas. My thoughts were fixed on that white wall. I forgot evenpapa. 

We had pouring rains again soon after we got to Jerusalem. Iwas half glad. So much to see and think of at once, it wasalmost a relief to be obliged to take things gradually. I hadbeen given numerous good bits of counsel by the kind Englishladies we had seen at Jaffa; and according to their advice, Ipersuaded papa that we should go down at once to Jericho andthe Dead Sea, without waiting till the weather should grow toohot for it; then Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives and all theneighbourhood would be delightful. Now, they were very grayand forlorn to a stranger's eye. I wanted papa to be pleased. _I_ could have enjoyed Jerusalem at any time. But I knew that byand by Jericho would be insupportable. 

So papa and Suleiman made their arrangements. All that wewanted was a guard of Arabs; everything else we had already. The rain ceased after the third day; and early in the morningwe went out of the eastern gate of the city and moved slowlydown the slope of the Kedron valley and up the side of MountOlivet. 

It was my first ride in the environs of Jerusalem; and I couldhardly bear the thoughts it brought up. Yet there was scanttime for thoughts; eyes had to be so busy. The valley of theKedron! I searched its depths, only to find tombs everywhere, with olive trees sprinkled about among them. Life and death;for if anything is an emblem of life in Palestine, I supposeit is the olive. They looked sad to me at first, the olives;their blue-gray foliage had so little of the fresh cheer ofour green woods. Afterwards I thought differently. Butcertainly the valley of the Kedron was desolate and mournfulin the extreme, as we first saw it. Nor was Olivet less so. The echo of forfeited promises seemed to fill my ear; theshades of lost glory seemed to tenant all those ways andhillsides. I could but think what feet had trod those paths;what hands of blessing had been held out on these hills;turned back and rejected, to the utter ruin of those whorejected them. The places of Solomon's splendour and David'shonour, in the hands of the Moslem; or buried beneath theruins of twenty desolations. And in the midst of such thoughtswhich possessed me constantly, came thrills of joy that I wasthere. So we mounted over the shoulder of the Mount of Olives, and the day cleared and brightened as we went on. Then camethe ruins of Bethany. I would have liked to linger there; butthis was not the time. I left it for the present. 

"We must dismount here, Daisy, " said papa the next minute. Andhe set me the example. "Our own feet will do this next pieceof road most satisfactorily. "

We scrambled down, over the loose stones and rock, the verysteep pitch just below Bethany. I do not know how deep, buthundreds of feet certainly. Our mules and horses came on asthey could. 

"Is this to be taken as a specimen of Palestine roads, Daisy?"

"I believe they are pretty bad, papa. "

"How do you like it?"

"Oh, papa, " said I, stopping, "I like it. Look - look yonder -do you see that glimmer? do you know what that is, papa?"

"It is water -"

"It is the Dead Sea. "

"Thirty-six hundred feet below. We have a sharp ride beforeus, Daisy. "

"Not quite so much below us - we have come down some way. Papa, don't you enjoy it?"

"I enjoy _you_, " he said, smiling. "Yes, child, I enjoy it; onlyI don't enjoy such villainous roads. "

"But then, papa, you know it is the only possible way the roadcan go, and always has been; and so we are sure that Christwas here many a time. _Here_, papa, where our feet aretreading. "

Papa looked at me and said nothing. 

The way was so pleasant, that we walked on ahead of our mules, till we came to the spring about a mile from Bethany. It wasstrange to look at the water pouring out its never failingstream, and to remember it had been doing just so ever sincenineteen hundred years ago. 

"How often travellers have rested here and drunk of the water, papa; how often Christ was here. "

"That arch was not over the spring in those days, though, "said papa. 

But papa stood and looked at the spring and at the ravine, andI saw that he was catching something of my feeling. We mountedthere, and the rest of the way we had no more talk. I did notwant to talk. There was too much to think about, as we wounddown the rough valleys or watercourses among the desolatehills; while the air grew constantly warmer as we got lower. No trees, no life, no vine terraces; and this was the way toJericho. At the ruined khan, a good distance from the top, wedismounted and stopped to rest and take our lunch. 

"Well, Daisy, " said papa, "are you enjoying yet?"

"Every minute, papa. "

"I am very glad. But I am very tired. "

"Papa, you must take a good rest here; and here is an orangefor you. I will give you something else directly. "

Papa stretched himself out wearily on the stones. 

"What is the source of your pleasure just now, Daisy? It is asbarren a landscape as ever I traversed. "

"Papa, David went this way when he fled from Absalom. "

"Humph!" said papa, as if there were not much pleasure in thatassociation. 

"And Jesus and His apostles came this way, up from Jericho; upand down, I suppose, many a time; they have rested _here_, papa. "

"And I see, Daisy, you love the ground where those feet havetrod. I never could understand it before. I fancy, I couldnever attain power of realisation to get near enough to thesubject. "

"Do you now, papa?"

"Hardly. By sympathy with you, Daisy. "

"A little below, papa, we shall come to the Valley of Achor, where Achan was stoned. "

"I don't know that story, Daisy. You may read it to me. "

We had a long reading and resting there by the ruined khan. Papa was ready to listen and talk; and I saw that so long aswe were in Palestine he would read the Bible as much as Iliked. Then we made the rest of our way. I knew he could notbut be interested with that. The scenery became so wild andgrand as to satisfy even him. We got the glorious view of theplains of Jericho from the top of the steep descent, and stoodstill for some time to look. Papa said it was a noble view;but to me it was so full of the riches of association that Icould hardly feast upon it enough. Down there, Jericho of oldhad stood and fallen; when the priests and the people ofIsrael compassed it about with trumpets of victory. There, orover against it, the Jordan had been divided to let the peoplepass over. In later days Elijah and Elisha had gone oversingle-handed. Down on that plain had stood Herod's Jericho, which Christ had gone through time and again; where Zaccheusclimbed the tree to see Him, and Bartimeus sitting by thewayside had cried out for his mercy and got it. What was therebefore me in all that scene that did not tell of the power offaith - of the grace of God - of the safety and strength ofHis children - of the powerlessness of their enemies. My heartsang hymns and chanted psalms of rejoicing, while my littleSyrian pony stood still with me at the top of the pass ofAdummim. I even forgot papa. 

At the bottom we found ourselves in a new world. Water andwood, luxuriant vegetation of many kinds; a stream even toford, the brook which comes down from Wady Kelt, now full withthe rains; a warm delicious atmosphere, and the sun shining onthe opposite Moab mountains. 

And then came another sight which is very pleasant at theclose of a long day of fatigue and excitement; our tents, upand ready for us. Our Syrian cook gave us a good dinner; andpapa was satisfied to see me so happy. I thought he was alittle happy himself. 

CHAPTER XV. 

OLD BATTLEFIELDS

The next day papa was so tired that he would not go anywhere. So I had to be quiet too. It was no hardship. I was ratherglad, to take in leisurely the good of all I had before andaround me, and have time for it. Our tents were pitched by thebeautiful fountain Aines-Sultân; which the books told me wasElisha's fountain. I wandered round it, examining the strangetrees and bushes, gathering flowers; I found a great many;studying the lights and shades on the Moab mountains, andcasting longing looks towards the Dead Sea and the Jordan. Itook my maid with me in my wanderings, and Suleiman also keptnear me like a shadow; but nobody of all our caravan behavedto me with anything but the most observant politeness. TheArabs, taught, I suppose, by other travellers whom they hadattended, were very eager to bring me natural curiosities;birds and animals and shells and plants. I had no lack ofbusiness and pleasure all that day. I wanted only some one totalk to me who could tell me things I wanted to know. 

The day had come to an end, almost; the shadow of Quarantaniahad fallen upon us; and I sat on a rock by the spring, watching the colours of the sunset still bright on the treesin the plain, on the water of the sea, and on the range of theMoab hills. From all these my thoughts had at last wanderedaway, and were busy at the other end of the world; sad, with agreat sense that Mr. Thorold was away from me; heavy, with amoment's contrast of pleasures present and pleasures past. Mymusings were suddenly broken by seeing that some one was closeby my side, and a single glance said, a stranger. I wasstartled and rose up, but the stranger stood still and seemedto wish to speak to me. Yet he did not speak. I saw the air ofa gentleman, the dress of a European in Syria, the outlines ofa personable man; one glance at his face showed me a bronzedcomplexion, warm-coloured auburn hair, and a frank and verybright eye. I looked away, and then irresistibly was driven tolook back again. He smiled. I was in confusion. 

"Don't you know?" he said. 

"Not -?"

"Yes!"

"Can it be, - Mr. Dinwiddie?"

"Is it possible it is Daisy?" he said, taking my hand. 

"Oh, Mr. Dinwiddie, I am so glad to see you!"

"And I am so glad to see you - here, of all places, atElisha's fountain. The first question is, How came we bothhere?"

"I persuaded papa to bring me. I wanted to see Palestine. "

"And I heard of you in Jerusalem, and felt sure it must beyou, and I could not resist the temptation to take a littlejourney after you. "

"And you are travelling through Palestine too?"

"In one way. I am living here - and life is a journey, youknow. "

"You are _living_ in Palestine?"

"In Jerusalem. I came here as a missionary, five years ago. "

"How very nice!" I said. "And you can go with us?"

He shook my hand heartily, which he had not yet let go, laughing, and asked where we were going?

"I want to see the Dead Sea, very much, Mr. Dinwiddie; andpapa was in doubt; but if you were with us there would be nomore difficulty. "

"I shall be most happy to be with you. Do you know where youare now?"

"I know a little. This is Elisha's fountain, isn't it?"

"Yes; and just hereabouts are the ruins of old Jericho. "

"I did not know. I wondered, and wanted to know. But, Mr. Dinwiddie, have you got a tent?"

"I never travel without one. "

"Then it is all right, " I said; "for we have a cook. "

"I should not miss that functionary, " he said, shaking hishead. "I am accustomed to act in that capacity myself. It issomething I have learned since I came from Virginia. "

We were called to dinner and had no time then for anythingmore. Our table was spread in front of the tents, in a clearspot of greensward; in the midst, I thought, of all possibledelights that could be clustered together - except one. Thebreeze was a balmy, gentle evening zephyr; the sunlight, hidden from us by the Quarantania, shone on the oppositemountains of Moab, bringing out colours of beauty; and glancedfrom the water of the Dead Sea, and brightened the hues of thegreen thickets on the plain. Jericho behind us, the Jordan infront of us, the confusions of the world we live in thrust toa great distance out of the way, - I sat down to the open-airmeal with a profound feeling of gratitude and joy. It was alsoa relief to me to have Mr. Dinwiddie's company with papa; heknew the land and the people and the ways of the land, andcould give such good help if help were needed. He could besuch good society too. 

I fancied that papa's reception of Mr. Dinwiddie was ratherslack in its evidence of pleasant recollection; but however, every shadow of stiffness passed away from his manner beforedinner was over. Mr. Dinwiddie made himself very acceptable;and there, where we had so much to talk about, talk flowed infull stream. It was arranged that the new member of our partyshould be our guest and our travelling companion during asmuch of our journey as his duties allowed; and I went to sleepthat night with a deep and full sense of satisfaction. 

Papa declared himself still the next day unable for a verylong and exciting day's work; so it was decided that we shouldput off till the morrow our ride to the Jordan and the DeadSea, and Mr. Dinwiddie proposed to conduct me to MountQuarantania to see the hermits' caves which are remainingthere. Of course they remain; for the walls of caves do notcrumble away; however, the staircases and rock ways which ledto the upper ones have many of them suffered that fate. 

We had a delicious walk. First along the foot of the mountain, skirting a little channel of running water which brings theoutflow of another fountain to enrich a part of the plain. Itwas made good for the cultivation of a large tract; althoughvery wild and disorderly cultivation. As we went, every spotwithin sight was full of interest; rich with associations; theair was warm but pleasant; the warble of the orange-wingedblackbird - I don't know if I ought to call it a warble; itwas a very fine and strong note, or whistle, - sounding fromthe rocks as we went by, thrilled me with a wild reminder ofall that had once been busy life there, where now theblackbird's cry sounded alone. The ruins of what had been, -the blank, that was once so filled up, - the forlorn repose, where the stir of the ages had been so restlessly active. Iheard Mr. Dinwiddie's talk as we went, he was telling andexplaining things to me. I heard, but could not make muchanswer. Thought was too full. 

A good distance from home, that is, from the tents, we reachedthe source of all that fertilising water the channel of whichwe had followed up. How wild the source was too! No Saracenicarch over that; the water in a full flow came out from amongthe roots of a great tree - one of the curious thorny dômtrees that grow in thickets over the plain. I believe ourArabs called them dôm; Mr. Dinwiddie said it was a Zizyphus. It was a very large tree at any rate, and with its odd thornybranches and bright green foliage canopied picturesquely thefine spring beneath it. All was wild and waste. The Arabs donot even root out the dîm or nubk trees from the spots theyirrigate and cultivate; but the little channels of water flowin and out among the stems and roots of the trees as they can. Times are changed on Jericho's plain. 

I thought so, as we turned up the slope of rock rubbish whichleads to the foot of the cave cliffs. The mountain here is asheer face of rock; and the caves, natural or artificial, pierce the rock in tiers, higher and lower. The precipice isspotted with them. The lowest ones are used now by the Arabsto pen their sheep and quarter their donkeys; Mr. Dinwiddieand I looked into a good many of them; in one or two we founda store of corn or straw laid up. Many of the highest cavescould not be got at; the paths and stairs in the rock whichused to lead to them are washed and worn away; but the secondtier are not so utterly cut off from human feet. By a waychiselled in the rock, with good nerves, one can reach them. My nerves were good enough, and I followed Mr. Dinwiddie alongthe face of the precipice till we reached some sets of cavescommunicating with each other. These were partly natural, partly enlarged by labour. Places were cut for beds and forcupboards; there was provision of a fine water tank, to which, Mr. Dinwiddie told me, there were stone channels leading froma source some hundreds of feet distant; cistern and tubes bothcarefully plastered. A few Abyssinian Christians come hereevery spring to keep Lent, Mr. Dinwiddie said. How much morepains they take than we do, I thought. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Dinwiddie, when I said my thought aloud, -" 'Skin for skin; all that a man hath will he give for hislife. ' But when the conscience knows that heaven is not to bebought that way, then there is no other motive left that willuse up all a man's energies but the love of Christconstraining him. "

"The trouble is, Mr. Dinwiddie, that there is so little ofthat. "

"So little!" he said, - "even in those of us who love most. Ido not mean to say that this love had no share in determiningthe actions of those who used to live here; perhaps theythought to get nearer to Christ by getting nearer to theplaces of His some time presence and working in human flesh. "

"And don't you think it does help, Mr. Dinwiddie?" I said. 

He turned on me a very deep and sweet look, that was half asmile. 

"No!" he answered. "The Lord may use it, - He often does, - toquicken our sense of realities and so strengthen ourapprehension of spiritualities; but just so He can use otherthings, even remote distance from such and all material helps. Out of that very distance He can make a tie to draw the soulto Himself. "

"There must have been a great many of those old Christiansliving here once?" I said. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Dinwiddie. "On this face of the mountain thereare thirty or forty caves - I think there are many more in thegorge of the Kelt, round on the south face. Do you see thatround hole over your head?"

We were standing in one of the caverns. I looked up. 

"I cannot get you up there, " he went on, - "but I have climbedup by means of a rope. There are other rooms there, and one isa chapel - I mean, it was one, - with arches cut to thewindows and doorways, and frescoed walls, full of figures ofsaints. Through another hole in another ceiling, like this, Igot up into still a third set of rooms, like the ones below. Into those nobody had come for many a year; the dust witnessedit. Back of one room, the chapel, was a little low doorway;very low. I crept through - and there in the inner place, laypiled the skeletons of the old hermits; skulls and bones, justas they had been laid while the flesh was still upon them; thedust was inches deep. A hundred feet higher up there are morecaverns. No, I should not like to take you - though theAbyssinian devotees come to them every spring. Yet higher thanthose, far up, near the top of the mountain, I have exploredothers, where I found still more burial caves like the onejust here above us. Chapels and frescoes were up there too. "

"And difficult climbing, Mr. Dinwiddie. "

"Very difficult. Broken stairs and dizzy galleries, and deepprecipices, with the vultures floating in air down below me. "

"What a place for men to live!"

"Fitter for the doves and swallows which inhabit the oldhermits' houses now. Yet not a bad place to live either, ifone had nothing to do in the world. Sit down and rest and letus look at it. "

"And I have got some luncheon for you, Mr. Dinwiddie. I shouldhave missed all this if you had not been with me. Papa wouldnever have come here. "

There were many places in front of the cells where seats hadbeen cut out in the rock; and in one of these Mr. Dinwiddieand I sat down, to eat fruit and biscuit and use our eyes; ourattendant Arab no doubt wondering at us all the while. Thelandscape in view was exceedingly fine. We had the plains ofJericho, green and lovely, spread out before us; we could seethe north end of the Dead Sea and the mouth of the Jordan; andthe hills of Moab, always like a superb wall of mountainrising up over against us. 

"Do you know where you are?" said Mr. Dinwiddie. 

"Partly. "

"The site of old Jericho is marked by the heaps and the ruinswhich lie between us and our camp. "

"Yes. That is _old_ Jericho. "

"Over against us, somewhere among those Moab hills, is thepass by which the hosts of the 'sons of Israel' came down, with their flocks and herds, to the rich plains over there, -the plains of Moab. "

"And opposite us, I suppose, somewhere along there in front ofold Jericho, is the place where the waters of the river failedfrom below and were cut off from above, and the great spacewas laid bare for the armies to pass over. "

"Just over there. And there - Elijah and Elisha went over dryshod, when Elijah smote with his mantle upon the waters; andthere by the same way Elisha came back alone, after he hadseen his master taken from him. "

"Those were grand times!" I said, with a half breath. 

"They were rough times. "

"Still, they were grand times. "

"I think, these are grander. "

"But, Mr. Dinwiddie, such things are not done now as were donethen. "

"Why not?"

"Why, how can you ask?"

"How can you answer?"

"Why, Mr. Dinwiddie, the river is not parted now, this rivernor any other, for the Lord's people to go over withouttrouble. "

"Are you sure?" said he, with the deep sweet look I hadnoticed. "Do they never come now, in the way of their duty, toan impassable barrier of danger or difficulty, through whichthe same hand opens their path? Did you never find that theydo, in your own experience?"

A little, I had; and yet it seemed to me that a very Jordan ofdifficulty lay before me now, rolling in full power. Mr. Dinwiddie waited a moment and went on. 

"That old cry, 'Where is the Lord God of Elijah?' - will bringdown His hand, now as then; mighty to hold back worse wavesthan those of the 'Descender. ' Aaron's rod, and the blast ofthe priests' trumpets, were but the appeal and the triumph offaith. And before that appeal stronger walls than those ofJericho fall down, now as well as then. "

"Then it must be the faith that is wanting, " I said. 

"Sometimes" - Mr. Dinwiddie answered; "and _not_ sometimes. Thatearnest Sunday-school teacher, who prayed that the Lord wouldgive him at least one soul a week out of his Bible class, andwho reported at the end of the year, _fifty-two_ brought to God, - what do you think of his faith? - and his Jericho?"

"Is it true?" I said. 

"It is true. What are the walls of stone and mortar to that?We wrestle not with flesh and blood, but againstprincipalities, against powers, against the rulers of thedarkness of this world. - But our Captain is stronger. "

I think we were both silent for some time; yet there was a dinof voices in my ear. So it seemed. Silence was literallybroken only by the note of a bird here and there; but theplain before me, the green line which marked the course of theJordan, the Moab mountains, the ruins at my feet, the cavesbehind me, were all talking to me. And there were voices of myown past and present, still other voices, blending with these. I sat very still, and Mr. Dinwiddie sat very still; until hesuddenly turned to me and spoke. 

"Will nothing but a miracle do, Miss Daisy?"

The tone was so gentle and so quietly blended itself with mymusings, that I started and smiled. 

"Oh, yes, " I said; - "I do not suppose I want a miracle. "

"Can a friend's counsel be of any use?"

"It might - of the greatest, " I answered; - "if only I couldtell you all the circumstances. "

"Before we go to that, how has it fared with my little friendof old time, all these years?"

"How has it _fared_ with me?" - I repeated in doubt. 

"There is only one sort of welfare I know, " he said. "It isnot strength to the body, or gold to the purse. I am 'well'only when God's favour is shining on me and I am strong to runthe way of His commandments. "

"I am not strong, " I said. 

"You know I do not mean my own strength, or yours, " heanswered. 

"I have never forgotten what you used to tell me, " I said. 

"Good. And yet, Miss Daisy, I would rather you could tell meyou had forgotten it; that you had gone on so far from thatbeginning as to have lost it out of view. "

"Ah, but I have not had so many friends to teach me, and helpme, that I could afford to forget the first one, " I said. "Ihave one dear old friend who thinks as you do, - and that isall; and I cannot see her now. "

" 'If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth toall men liberally and upbraideth not; and it shall be givenhim, ' " Mr. Dinwiddie said. 

"I lack wisdom, very much; but it does not seem to come, eventhough I ask for it. I am sometimes in a great puzzle. "

"About what to do?"

"Yes. "

"You can always find out the first step to be taken. Jesuswill be followed step by step. He will not show you but onestep at a time, very often. But take that, holding His hand, and He will show you the next. "

"So I came here, " I said. 

"And what is the work to be done here? on yourself, or onsomebody else?"

"I do not know, " I said. "I had not thought it was either. Perhaps I am learning. "

He was silent then, and I sat thinking. 

"Mr. Dinwiddie, " I said, "maybe you can help me. "

"I will gladly, if I can. "

"But it is very difficult for me to put you in possession ofthe circumstances - or in the atmosphere of the circumstances. I do not know that I can. You know that papa and mamma do notthink with me on the subject of religion?"

"Yes. "

"There are other things in which I think differently from them- other things in which we feel apart; and they do not knowit. Ought I to let them know it?"

"Your question is as enigmatical as an ancient oracle. I musthave a little more light. Do these differences of feeling oropinion touch action? - either yours or theirs?"

"Yes, - both. "

"Then, unless your minds are known to each other, will therenot be danger of mistaken action, on the one part or on theother?"

"Telling them would not prevent that danger, " I said. 

"They would disregard your views, or you would disregardtheirs, - which?"

"I must not disregard theirs, " I said low. 

Mr. Dinwiddie was silent awhile. I had a sort of cry in myheart for the old dividing of the waters. 

"Miss Daisy, " he said, "there is one sure rule. Do right; andlet consequences break us to pieces, if needs be. "

"But, " said I doubtfully, "I had questioned what was right; atleast I had not been certain that I ought to do anything justnow. "

"Of course I am speaking in the dark, " he answered. "But youcan judge whether this matter of division is something that inyour father's place you would feel you had a right to know. "

I mused so long after this speech, that I am sure Mr. Dinwiddie must have felt that he had touched my difficulty. Hewas perfectly silent. At last I rose up to go home. I do notknow what Mr. Dinwiddie saw in me, but he stopped me and tookmy hand. 

"Can't you trust the Lord?" he said. 

"I see trouble before me, whatever I do, " I said with somedifficulty. 

"Very well, " he said; "even so, trust the Lord. The troublewill do you no harm. "

I sat down for a moment and covered my face. It might do me noharm; it might at the same time separate me from what I lovedbest in the world. 

"Cannot you trust?" he repeated. " 'He that putteth his trustin the Lord shall be made fat. ' "

"You know, " I said, getting up, "one cannot help being weak. "

"Will you excuse me? - That is precisely what we _can_ help. Wecannot help being ignorant sometimes, - foolish sometimes, -short-sighted. But weak we need not be; for 'in the LordJehovah is everlasting strength;' and 'he giveth power to thefaint. ' "

"But there is no perfection, Mr. Dinwiddie. "

"Not if by perfection you mean, standing alone. But if thepower that holds us up is perfect, - what should hinder ourhaving a fulness of that? 'If ye shall ask anything in Myname, I will do it. ' Isn't that promise good for all we wantto ask?"

I sat down again to think. Mr. Dinwiddie quietly took hisplace by my side; and we were still for a good while. Theplains of Jericho and the Jordan and the Moab mountains andthe Quarantania, all seemed to have new voices for me now;voices full of balm; messages of soft-healing. I do think themessages God sends to us by natural things are some of thesweetest and mightiest and best understood of all. They comehome. 

"Do you think, " I asked, after a long silence, "that thismountain was really the scene of the Temptation?"

"Why should we think so? No, I do not think it. "

"But the road from Jericho to Jerusalem - there is no doubt ofthat?"

"No doubt at all. We are often sure of the roads here, when weare sure of little else. "

There was a pause; and then Mr. Dinwiddie broke it. 

"You left things in confusion at home. How do you feel aboutthat?"

"At home in America?" I said. "I do not feel about it as myparents do. "

"You side with the North!"

"I have lived there so much. I know the view taken there; andit seems to me the right one. And I have lived at the Southtoo; and I do not like the view held there, - nor the practicefollowed. "

"There are some things I can fancy you would not like, " hesaid musingly. "I have not known what to think. It seems to methey have made a false move. But it seems to me they mustsucceed. "

"I don't know, " I said. "Perhaps. "

He looked at me a little hard, and then we left the hermits'caves and went down the plain to our encampment. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FORLORN HOPE

The spot where our tents were pitched commands a view, I thinkone of the loveliest in the world. Perhaps with me associationhas something to do with the feeling. That broad sweep of theplains of Jericho, bright with their groves of Zizyphus trees;the lake waters coming in at the south; the great line of theMoab horizon, and the heights of the western shore; and thenthe constant changes which the light makes in revealing allthese; I found it a study of beauty, from the morning till thenight. From the time when the sun rose over the Moab mountainsand brightened our dôm trees and kissed our spring, to theevening when the shadow of Quarantania stretched over all ourneighbourhood, as it stretched over Jericho of old, and thedistant hills and waters and thickets glowed in colours andlights of their own. 

The next morning after my walk I was up early, and going alittle way from my tent door, I sat down to enjoy it. Theservants were but just stirring; my father and Mr. Dinwiddiesafe within their canvas curtains. It was very nice to bealone, for I wanted to think. The air was deliciously balmyand soft; another fair day had risen upon us in that region oftropical summer; the breath of the air was peace. Or was itthe speech of the past? It is difficult to disentangle thingssometimes. I had troublesome matters to think about, yetsomehow I was not troubled. I did not lay hold of trouble, allthe while I was in Palestine. Mr. Dinwiddie's words hadrevealed to me that it might be my duty to tell my father allthat was in my heart. Suspicions of the fact, only, hadcrossed my thought before; but "as iron sharpeneth iron, so aman sharpeneth the countenance of his friend. " I saw moreclearly. And the longer I sat there on my stone looking overto the line of the Jordan and to the hills through which thearmies of Israel had once come down to cross it, the clearerit grew to my mind, that the difficulty before me was one tobe faced, not evaded. I saw that papa had a right to know myaffairs, and that he would think it became me as a Christiannot to make a mystery of them. I saw I must tell papa aboutmyself. And yet, it did not appal me, as the idea had oftenappalled me. I was hardly afraid. At any rate, there before methe hosts of the Israelites had passed over dry shod; thoughthe river was swift and strong; and the appeal of Elisha, -"Where is the Lord God of Elijah?" - came home to my ear likea blast of the priests' silver trumpets. I felt two hands onmy shoulders. 

"Studying it all, Daisy?"

"Papa, I am never tired of studying. "

"This is a wonderful place. "

"Papa, you know little about it yet. Old Jericho was upthere. "

"You speak as if I had gone to school in 'old Jericho, ' " saidmy father, laughing. "I have the vaguest idea, Daisy, thatsuch a city existed. That is all. "

"Sit down, papa, while breakfast is getting ready, and let memend your knowledge. "

So we read the story there, on the stone by the spring. Mr. Dinwiddie joined us; and it was presently decided that weshould spend the morning in examining the ground in ourneighbourhood and the old sites of what had passed away. Soafter breakfast we sat out upon a walk over the territory ofold Jericho. 

"But it is strange, " said papa, "if the city was here, thatthere are no architectural remains to testify as much. "

"We rarely find them, sir, but in connection with Roman orSaracenic work. Shapeless mounds, and broken pottery, as youhave it here, are all that generally mark our Palestineruins. "

"But Herod?" said papa. "He was a builder. "

"Herod's Jericho was a mile and a half away, to the east. Andmoreover, if anything had been remaining here that could bemade of use, the Saracens or Crusaders would have pulled it topieces to help make their sugar mills up yonder, or theiraqueducts. "

"There is no sugar cane here now?"

"Not a trace of it. Nor a palm tree; though Jericho was a cityof palms; nor a root of the balsam, though great gain wasderived to Judea in ancient times from the balsam gardenshere. "

We mounted our horses and rode down to the site of Herod'sJericho, on the banks of the little stream that issues fromthe gorge of the Wady Kelt. How lovely, and how desolate, itwas. The stream overhung with trees and bordered witholeanders and shrubs of which I have forgotten the names, andcrossed by old arches still; and around, the desolate tokensof what once was. Foundation lines, and ruined aqueducts. Mr. Dinwiddie made us remark the pavement of the road leading upto the Kelt, the old road to Jerusalem, the road by whichJesus went when the blind men called him, and over which, somewhere on its way, stretched the sycamore tree into whichZaccheus climbed. Ah how barren and empty the way looked now!- with Him no longer here. For a moment, so looked my own pathbefore me, - the dusty, hot road; the desolate pass; thebarren mountain top. It was only a freak of fancy; I do notknow what brought it. I had not felt so a moment before, and Idid not a moment after. 

"Where His feet lead now, the green pastures are not wanting, -" Mr. Dinwiddie said; I suppose reading my look. 

"Never, Mr. Dinwiddie?"

"Never!"

"But it _seems_, often, to people, that they are wanting. "

"Their eyes are so blinded by tears that they cannot see them, sometimes. Even then, they can lie down and feel them, - feelthat they are in them. "

"Are there any sycamore trees here now?" my father asked. 

"Two or three poor old specimens; just enough to show for thestory. Those sycamore figs belong to the low and warmsituations; this is the proper place for them. "

Papa felt so well that we determined to push on to the Jordan. It was a hot, long ride, over a shadeless and barren plain;and when we came to the river papa declared himself very muchdisappointed. But I was not. Narrow and muddy as the streamwas, it was also powerful in its rapid flood; no one couldventure to bathe in it. The river was much swollen and hadbeen yet more so; the tracks of wild animals which the floodshad disturbed were everywhere to be seen. Papa and Mr. Dinwiddie reasoned and argued, while I sat and meditated; in adeep delight that I should see the Jordan at all. We took along rest there, on its banks. The jungle was a deliciousstudy to me, and when the deep talk of the gentlemen subsidedenough to give me a chance, I got Mr. Dinwiddie to enlightenme as to the names and qualities of the various trees andplants. They were of fine luxuriant growth. Poplars andsycamores and other trees, willows, I think, and exquisitetamarisks in blossom; and what I specially admired, the canes. I understood then how people might go into the plain to see "areed shaken with the wind. " Growing twelve to fifteen feethigh, with graceful tufts of feathery bloom which they bow andsway to the breeze in a manner lovely to see. 

Another day we rode down to the shore of the Dead Sea; papabeing none the worse for his Jordan excursion. Then the rainvisited us, and for two or three days we were kept in ourtents. With some difficulty I then persuaded papa to gofurther south, to the shore of the Dead Sea, to some pleasantcamping ground by one of its western springs; there rain fallsalmost never. So, first at Ain Feshkah and then at Ain Jidi, we spent another couple of weeks; without Mr. Dinwiddie itwould have been impossible, but his society kept papa fromwearying and made everything as enjoyable as could be to bothof us. It was the middle of February when we returned toJerusalem. 

The rainy season was not of course at an end yet; but a changeof beauty had come over the land. We found fruit trees inblossom, almond and peach; and apricots just ready to bloom. Corn up and green; and flowers coming and come. I had my ownplans, made up from the experience and counsels of my Englishfriends; but papa wanted to see Jerusalem, and I waited. Ofcourse I wanted to see Jerusalem too; and here again Mr. Dinwiddie was our excellent friend and guide and instructor. Papa was quite in earnest now; and went about the cityexamining walls and churches and rock-tombs and all theenvirons, with a diligent intentness almost equal to mine; andhe and Mr. Dinwiddie had endless talks and discussions, whileI mused. The words, "Constantine, " "Byzantine, " "Crusaders, ""Helena", "Saracenic, " "Herod, " "Josephus;" with modern namesalmost as well known; echoed and re-echoed in my ears. 

"Daisy!" said papa suddenly in one of these talks, - "Daisy!you are not interested in this. "

"Papa, it is so uncertain. "

Mr. Dinwiddie laughed. 

"But the question, child; don't you care about the question?how is it ever to be made certain? I thought this questionwould engage all your attention. "

"How can it ever be made certain, papa? After those hundredand fifty years when there were no Jews allowed here, who wasto remember the spot of the Sepulchre? Few but Christians knewit, in the first place. "

"Oh, you _have_ thought about it!" said papa. "But are you notinterested in a _probable_ site, Daisy?"

"No, papa. "

"All these old churches and relics then do not concern you?"

"Papa, I only go to see them for your sake. "

"Well, " said papa, "now I will go to the Mount of Olives foryour sake. "

That was my plan; following the advice of the English party, who said they had enjoyed it. We hired for a time a littlestone dwelling on the Mount of Olives, from which we had afine view of the city; and to this new home papa and I moved, and took up our quarters in it. Of all my days in the HolyLand, excepting perhaps the time spent at Jericho and Engedi, these days were the best. They are like a jewel of treasure inmy memory. 

The little dwelling to which we had come was rougher inaccommodation than our tents; but the season was still early, and it gave better shelter to papa. It was a rude stone house, with a few small rooms at our service; which I soon madecomfortable with carpets and cushions. The flat roof abovegave us a delightful view of the country and abundant chanceto examine and watch all its points and aspects. I spent thehours up here or at the window of our little sitting-room;using my eyes all the time, to take in and feast upon what wasbefore them. Only when papa would go out with me, I left mypost; to take up the survey from some new point of view. I hada great deal to think of, those days; a certain crisis in mylife had come, or was coming; I was facing it and gettingready for it; and thinking and looking seemed to help andstimulate each other. It was wonderful to watch the lightschange on Jerusalem; from the first sunbeam that came over thehills of Moab and touched the city, to the full glare of themidday, and then the sunset colours on land and rock andbuilding, transforming the dull greys and whites with a flushof rosy beauty and purple splendour. The tints that hoveredthen upon the red hills of Moab were never to be forgotten. Iwatched it, this change of light and shade and colour, fromday to day. I learned to know Jerusalem and her surroundinghills and her enclosing valleys; and the barrier wall of Moabbecame a familiar line to me. All this while, as I said, I hada great deal to think of, and was thinking. Past, present andfuture chased each other in and out of my head; or rather, itseems to me, dwelt there together. 

"Daisy!" - papa called to me when I was on the roof one day. Iran down. 

"What are you doing up there?"

"I was looking, papa. I was studying topography. "

"Let us go out and study it a little by actual survey. I thinka walk would do me good. "

We went down first to the valley of the Kedron, and wanderedabout there; sometimes sitting down under the shade of theolive trees to rest; speculating upon localities, recallingscenes of history; wondering at the path which descends intothe valley from St. Stephen's gate and goes on over the Mountof Olives to Bethany. Above all things, that path held myeyes. No doubt the real path that was travelled eighteencenturies ago lay deep beneath many feet of piled-up rubbish;but the rubbish itself told a tale; and the path was there. After a long stay in the valley, we mounted the hill again, where our temporary home was; and passing that, went on to theheight of the hill. There we sat down. The westering sun wascasting lines of light all over the landscape, which would besoon floods of colour. Papa and I sat down to look and wait. 

"It certainly is worth coming for, " said papa. "Our journeyrealises more than all I had hoped from it, Daisy. "

"I am so glad, papa!"

"But you, Daisy, how is it with you? You seem to me a little, and not a little, _distraite_. "

"I have so much to think of, papa. "

"More than I have?"

"Why, yes, papa, " I said, half laughing. "I think so. "

"You must have fields of speculation unknown to me, Daisy. "

"Yes, papa. Some time I want to talk to you about them. "

"Isn't now a good time?" said papa, carelessly. 

I was silent a while, thinking how to begin. It was a goodtime, I knew, and I dared not let it pass. I had been waitingtill Mr. Dinwiddie should have left us and papa and I be quitealone; and he was to join us again as soon as we started onour northward journey. Now was my best opportunity. All themore, for knowing that, my heart beat. 

"Papa, " I began, "may I ask you a few questions, the better tocome at what I want?"

"Certainly. Your questions, Daisy, I have always foundstimulating. "

"Then first, what is it you think of most, in looking overfrom this place to Jerusalem?"

"Of course, " said papa, rousing himself, "the prominentthought must be the wonderful scene that was acted thereeighteen hundred years ago; not the course of history beforeor after. Is that what you mean?"

"I mean that, papa. I mean the death of Christ. Papa, what wasthat for?"

"Why, as I understand it, Daisy, it was a satisfaction to thejustice of God for the sins of the world. Are you going to putme through a course of theology, Daisy?"

"No, papa. But do you think it was for all the world, or onlyfor a part of them?"

"For all, of course. The Bible words I take to be quite clearon that point, even if it were possible that it should havebeen otherwise. "

"Then it was for you and me, papa?"

"Yes. "

"And for those ignorant Moslems that live in the city now?"

"Yes, of course it was; though I think they will not have muchgood of it, Daisy. "

"Never mind that, papa. Then it was for my old June, and forMaria and Darry and Pete and Margaret, and all the rest of ourpeople at Magnolia?"

"Yes, " said papa, rousing up a little. I did not look at him. 

"Papa, don't you think the Lord Jesus loves the people forwhom He died?"

"Certainly. It is inconceivable that He should have died forthem if He did not love them. Though that is also a greatmystery to me, Daisy. "

"Papa, don't you think that, having died for them, He holdsthem precious?"

"I suppose so, " said papa slowly. 

"Every one?"

"Yes. "

"Do you think He loves one man less than another because hisskin is darker?"

"Certainly not, Daisy. "

"Then papa - should we?"

"I do not know that we do, " papa said, after a pause. 

"Papa, think. What would you say to our, or anybody's, holdingwhite men in slavery - making them work without wages - andforcing them to obey under the lash?"

"They are an inferior race, Daisy, " papa answered again aftera pause. His voice showed he did not enjoy the conversation;but it was needful for me to go on. 

"Papa, they have been kept down. But suppose they wereinferior, - since Christ died for them, does He not lovethem?"

"I have no doubt of it. "

"Then, papa, what will He say to us, for keeping those whom Heloves and died for, at arms' length or under our feet? andwhat will He say to us for keeping them out of the good Hedied to give them?"

"We do not, Daisy! They have their religious privileges. "

"Papa, I have lived among them as you never did. They may notmeet together to pray, on pain of the lash. They cannot haveBibles, for they are not allowed to read. They have no familylife; for husbands and wives and parents and children areparted and torn from each other at the will or for theinterest of their owners. They live like the animals. "

"Not on my estates!" said papa, rousing himself again. "Thereis no selling and buying of the people there. "

"Pete's wife was forcibly taken from him, papa, and then sentSouth. "

"By whom?"

"By Edwards. And the rest of the hands were in mortal fear ofhim; utterly cowed. They dared not move without his pleasure. "

"Abuses, " papa muttered; - "nothing to do with the system. "

"What must the system be where such things are possible? whereone such thing is possible? And oh, papa, they suffer! thereis no such thing as real comfort of life; there is no scope orliberty for the smallest upward tendency. Nothing is theirown, not their own time; they have no chance to be anythingbut inferior. "

"They have all the essentials of comfortable living, and theyare comfortable, " said my father. 

"Papa, they do not think so. "

"Few people do think so, " said papa. "It is a vice ofhumanity. "

I was silent a little bit, and then I ventured to say, -

"Papa, the Lord Jesus loved them well enough to die for them. "

"Well, " said papa, rather growlingly, "what then?"

"I am thinking, what will He say to us for handling them so. "

"What would you do for them, Daisy?"

"All I could, papa, " I said softly. 

"How much could you, do you suppose?"

"Papa, I would not stop as long as there was anything more tobe done. "

"I suppose you would begin by setting them all free?"

"Wouldn't you wish it, papa, for yourself and me, if we weretwo of them? - and for mamma and Ransom, if they were twomore?"

"You are mistaken in thinking it is a parallel case. They donot wish for liberty as we should. "

"Then it only shows how much harm the want of liberty has donethem already. But they wish for it quite enough, papa; quiteenough. It breaks my heart to think how much they do wish forit. "

"My child, you do not know what you are talking about!" papaanswered; half worried, I thought, and half impatient. "In thefirst place, they would not be better off if they were setfree; though you think they would; and in the second place, doyou know how it would affect our own condition?"

"Papa, " I said low, - "it has nothing to do with the question. I do not care. "

"You would care. "

"I care for this other more, papa. "

"Daisy, understand. Instead of being well off, you would bepoor; you would be poor. The Southern estates would be worthnothing without hands to cultivate them; and my Northernestates will go to your brother. "

"I should never be rich in the way you think, papa. "

"How so?"

"I would never be rich in that way. "

"What would you do?"

"I would be poor. "

"It is not so easy to do as to talk about, " said my father. "At the present time, Daisy, - I suppose, if you had yourwill, you would set at liberty at once all the people on theMagnolia plantations?"

"Indeed I would, papa. "

"Then we should be reduced to a present nothing. The Melbourneproperty brings in very little, nothing, in fact, without amaster on the spot to manage it. I dare say some trifling rentmight be obtained for it; and the sale of Magnolia and itscorresponding estates would fetch something if the timesadmitted of sale. You know it is impossible now. We shouldhave scarce anything to live upon, my child, to satisfy yourphilanthropy. "

"Papa, there was a poor woman once, who was reduced to ahandful of meal and a little oil as her whole household store. Yet at the command of the prophet of the Lord, she took someof it to make bread for him, before she fed herself and herchild - both of them starving. And the Lord never let her wanteither meal or oil all the time the famine lasted. "

"Miracles do not come for people's help, now-a-days, Daisy. "

"Papa, yes! God's ways may change, His ways of doing the samething; but He does not change. He takes care of His people nowwithout miracles, all the same. "

"All the same!" repeated papa. "That is an Englishexpression, that you have caught from your friends. "

We were both silent for a while. 

"Daisy, my child, your views of all these things will alter byand by. You are young, and have slight experience of thethings of life. By and by, you will find it a much moreserious thing than you imagine to be without wealth. You wouldfind a great difference between the heiress and the pennilessgirl; a difference you would not like. "

"Papa, " I said slowly, - "I hope you will not be displeased orhurt, - but I want it to be known, and I wanted you shouldknow, that I never shall be an heiress. I never will be richin that way. I will take what God gives me. "

"First throwing away what He has given you, " said papa. 

"I do not think He has given it, papa. "

"What then? have we stolen it?"

"Not we; but those who have been before us, papa; they stoleit. All we are doing, is keeping that which is not ours. "

"Enough too, I should think!" said papa. "You will alter yourmind, Daisy, about all this, if you wait a while. What do youthink your mother would say to it?"

"I know, papa, " I said softly. "But I cannot help thinking ofwhat will be said somewhere else. I would like that you and I, and she too, might have that 'Well done' - which the LordJesus will give to some. And when they enter into the joy oftheir Lord, will they care what His service has cost them?"

My eyes were full of tears, and I could scarcely speak; for Ifelt that I had gained very little ground, or better no groundat all. What indeed could I have expected to gain? Papa satstill, and I looked over at Jerusalem, where the westing sunwas making a bath of sunbeams for the old domes and walls. Asort of promise of glory, which yet touched me exceedinglyfrom its contrast with present condition. Even so of otherthings, and other places besides Jerusalem. But Melbourneseemed to be in shadow. And Magnolia? -

I wondered what papa would say next, or whether our talk hadcome to a deadlock then and there. I had a great deal moremyself to say; but the present opportunity seemed to bequestionable. And then it was gone; for Mr. Dinwiddie mountedthe hill and came to take a seat beside us. 

"Any news, Mr. Dinwiddie?" was papa's question, as usual. 

"From America. "

"What sort of news?"

"Confused sort - as the custom is. Skirmishes which amount tonothing, and tell nothing. However, there is a little morethis time. Fort Henry has been taken, on the Tennessee river, by Commander Foote and his gunboats. "

"Successes cannot always be on one side, of course, " remarkedmy father. 

"Roanoke Island has been taken, by the sea and land forcesunder Burnside and Goldsborough. "

"Has it!" - said papa. "Well, - what good will that do them?"

"Strengthen their hearts for continuing the struggle, " saidMr. Dinwiddie. "It will do that. "

"The struggle cannot last very long, " said my father. "Theymust see sooner or later how hopeless it is. "

"Not in the light of these last events, " said Mr. Dinwiddie. "What does my other friend here think about it?"

"About what, Mr. Dinwiddie?"

"The length of the struggle. "

"Do you think Daisy has some special means of knowledge?"asked my father, carelessly. 

"Well - yes, " said Mr Dinwiddie. "She has been among Northernfriends a good while; perhaps she can judge better of theirtone and temper than I can, - or you, sir. "

"I cannot hold just the view that you do, Mr. Dinwiddie, - orthat papa does. "

"So I supposed. You think there are some good soldiers in theNorthern army. "

"It would be absurd to suppose there are not, " said my father;"but what they do want, is a right understanding of the spiritof the South. It is more persistent and obstinate, as well asstrong, than the North takes any account of. It will notyield. It will do and endure anything first. "

I thought I had heard papa intimate a doubt on that issue;however I said nothing. 

"If _spirit_ would save a people, " Mr. Dinwiddie rejoined, "those walls over against us would not bear the testimony theydo. No people ever fought with more spirit than this people. Yet Jerusalem is a heap of ruins. "

"You do not mean that such a fate can overtake the wholeSouth?" said my father. 

"I mean, that the race is not always to the swift. The Southhave right on their side, however. "

"Right?" said I. 

"I thought that would bring you out, " Mr. Dinwiddie said, witha kindly look at me. 

"Daisy is an abolitionist, " said papa. "Where she got it, isout of my knowledge. But I think, Mr. Dinwiddie, there areminds so constituted that they take of choice that view ofthings which is practically the most adverse to their owninterest. "

"Tell papa, Mr. Dinwiddie, that that cannot be. "

"What cannot be, if you please?"

"I mean, that which is the _right_ cannot be the wrong in anysense; cannot be even the wrong view for anybody's interestthat adopts it. "

"Fair theories -" said papa. 

"Something else, it must be, papa. There is a promise - 'Withwhat measure ye measure, it shall be measured to you again. ''Give, and it shall be given unto you; full measure, presseddown, heaped up, and running over, shall men give into yourbosom. ' "

"Why into my bosom?" said papa. "I would rather it were intomy hands, or a basket, or anything. "

We went off into a laugh upon that, and Mr. Dinwiddieexplained, and the conversation turned. We went into the houseto have tea; and there we discussed the subject of our furtherjourney and when we should set off. Mr. Dinwiddie was engagedto go with us to Lebanon. But it was concluded that we wouldwait yet a little for the season to be further advanced. Forme, I was in no hurry to leave the Mount of Olives andJerusalem. 

We sat on the roof that evening and watched the lights kindlein Jerusalem, and talked of the old-time scenes and changes;till I supposed the question of home troubles and our poorMagnolia people was pretty well driven from papa's mind. Butwhen Mr. Dinwiddie was gone, and I was bidding him good-night, he held me fast in his arms, looking down into my face. 

"Little Daisy!" - he said. 

"Not just now, papa. "

"The very same!" he said. "My little Daisy! - who was alwaysforgetting herself in favour of any poor creature that came inher way. "

"Papa - what did our Lord do?"

"Daisy, do you expect to conform yourself and everybody tothat pattern?"

"Myself, papa. Not everybody. "

"Me? -"

I could not answer papa. I hid my face on his breast; - for hestill held me. And now he kissed me fondly. 

"We must not do what mamma would never agree to, " he said verykindly. Again I could make no answer. I knew all about mamma. 

"Daisy, " said papa presently, we had not changed our position, - "is Mr. Dinwiddie your friend, or mine?"

"Of us both, papa!" I said in astonishment. "Of me;particularly, perhaps; because he knows me best and has knownme longest. "

"Then he comes here to see you?"

"And you, papa. "

"I am afraid he does not come to see me, " papa said. "Do youlike to see him very much, Daisy?"

"Certainly, papa; very much; because he is an old, old, verygood friend. That is all. "

"You are sure?"

"Quite sure, papa. "

"I believe that _is_ all, " said papa, looking into my face. 

"I am afraid, however, that our friend wishes he were notquite so old a friend. "

"No, papa, " I said; "you are, mistaken. I am sure Mr. Dinwiddie does not think so. He knows better. "

"How does he know better?"

"I think he understands, papa. "

"What?"

"Me. "

"What about you?"

"I think he thinks only that, - what I said, papa. "

"And how came you to think he thinks anything about it?"

"Papa -"

"Has he ever told you his thoughts?"

"No, sir; certainly. "

"Then what do you mean, Daisy. "

"Papa - we have talked. "

"But not about that?"

"No, papa; not about Mr. Dinwiddie's feelings, certainly. ButI am sure he understands. "

"What, my pet?"

"My feelings, papa. "

"Your feeling about himself?"

"Yes. "

"How should he understand it, Daisy?"

"I think he does, papa -"

"You say, you 'have talked'? What course did your talk take?"

My heart beat. I saw what was coming now, - what ought tocome. It was my time. 

"It was a very general course, papa. It did not touch, directly, my feeling for Mr. Dinwiddie, or anybody. "

"Indirectly?"

"I think - I do not know - I half fancied, Mr. Dinwiddiethought so. "

"Thought what?"

"That it did touch some feeling of mine. "

"Not for himself. For some other?"

"Yes -" I whispered. 

"For whom?" he said abruptly. And then as I hesitated, -

"For one of those two?"

"What two?"

"De Saussure or Marshall?"

"Oh, no, papa!"

"Your cousin Gary?"

"Oh, no, papa!"

"Have I lost you, Daisy?" he said then in a different tone, gentle and lingering and full of regret. My breath was gone; Ithrew my arms around his neck. 

"Why did you never tell me before, Daisy?"

"Papa, - I was afraid. "

"Are you afraid now?"

"Yes. "

"Let us have it over then, Daisy. Who is it that has stolenyou from me?"

"Oh no one, papal" I cried. "No one could. No one can. "

"Who has tried, then?"

"A great many people, papa; but not this person. "

"How has it come to pass then, my pet? And who is thisperson?"

"Papa, it came to pass without anybody's knowing it or meaningit; and when I knew it, then I could not help it. But not whatyou say has come to pass; nobody has stolen or could steal mefrom you. "

"I have only lost, without any other being the gainer, " saidpapa a little bitterly. 

"No, papa, you have not lost; you cannot; I am not changed, papa, do you not see that I am not changed? I am yours, justas I always was, - only more, papa. "

Papa kissed me, but it cut me to the heart to feel there waspain in the kiss. I did what my lips could to clear the painaway. 

"Half is not as much as the whole, Daisy, " he said at length. 

"It may be, papa. Suppose the whole is twice as large as itused to be?"

"That is a good specimen of woman's reasoning. But you havenot told me all yet, Daisy. Who is it that holds the otherhalf?"

There was so much soreness and disappointment shown in papa'swords, rather in the manner of them, that it was extremelydifficult for me to carry on the conversation. Tears are ahelp, I suppose, to other women. They do not come to me, notat such times. I stood still in papa's arms, with a kind ofdry heartache. The pain in his words was a terrible trial tome. He folded me close again and kissed me over and over, andthen whispered, -

"Who is it, Daisy?"

"Papa, it was at West Point. I never meant it, and never knewit, until I could not help it. "

"At West Point!" said papa. 

"Two years ago, when Dr. Sandford took me there. "

"It is not Dr. Sandford!"

"Oh, no, papa! He is not to blame. He did everything he couldto take care of me. He knows nothing it all about it. "

"Who is it, then?"

"He was a cadet then, papa; he is in the army now. "

"Who is he?"

"He is from Vermont; his name is Thorold. "

"Not a Southerner?"

"No, papa. Do you care very much for that?"

"Is he in the _Northern_ army, Daisy?"

"He could not help that, papa; being a Vermonter. "

Papa let me go; I had been standing in his arms all thiswhile; and took several turns up and down our little room. Isat down, for my joints trembled under me. Papa walked andwalked. 

"Does your mother know?" he said at last. 

"I dared not tell her. "

"Who does know?"

"Nobody, papa, but you, and an old friend of mine in New York, - an aunt of Mr. Thorold's. "

"Daisy, what is this young man?"

"Papa, I wish you could know him. "

"How comes it that he, as well as you, has kept silence?"

"I don't know, papa. His letter must have miscarried. He wasgoing to write to you immediately, just before I leftWashington. I was afraid to have him do it, but he insistedthat he must. "

"Why were you afraid?"

"Papa, I knew you and mamma would not be I pleased; that itwould not be what you would wish; and I feared mamma, andperhaps you, would forbid him at once. "

"Does he write to you?"

"I would not let him, papa, without your permission; and I wasafraid I could not get that. "

"What did you expect to do then, Daisy, if I was never to betold?"

"I thought to wait only till the war should be over, papa, -when he might see you himself and you might see him. I thoughtthat would be the best way. "

"_He_ did not?"

"No; he insisted on writing. "

"He was right. What is the young man's name, Daisy? you havenot told me yet. "

"Christian Thorold. "

"Thorold, " said papa. "It is an English name. Have you heardnothing from him, Daisy, since you came to Switzerland?"

"Nothing, " - I said. 

Papa came over again to where I sat on the divan, bent downand kissed me. 

"Am I such a terror to you, Daisy?"

"Oh, no, papa, " I said, bursting into tears at last; - "butmamma - you know if mamma said a word at first, she wouldnever go back from it. "

"I know, " he said. "And I choose, for the present, that thismatter should remain a secret between you and me. You need nottell your mother until I bid you. "

"Yes, papa. Thank you. "

"And, Daisy, " said he stroking my hair fondly, - "the war isnot ended in America yet, and I am afraid we have a long timeto wait for it. Poor child! - But for the present there are nostorms ahead. "

I rose up and kissed papa, with a very tender good-night givenand exchanged; and then I went to my room. The Jerusalemlights were out. But a peace, deep and wide as the blue archof the sky, seemed to have spanned my life and my heart. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

OUT OF THE SMOKE

There was an immense burden lifted off me. It is difficult toexpress the change and the relief in my feelings. The next daywas given to an excursion in the neighbourhood; and I nevercan forget how rare the air seemed to be, as if I werebreathing pure life; and how brilliant the sunlight was thatfell on the wonderful Palestine carpet of spring flowers. Allover they were; under foot and everywhere else; flashing fromhidden places, peeping round corners, smiling at us in everymeadow and hillside; a glory upon the land. Papa was in greatdelight, as well as I; and as kind as possible to me; alsovery good to Mr. Dinwiddie. Mr. Dinwiddie himself seemed to metransformed. I had gone back now to the free feeling of achild; and he looked to me again as my childish eyes had seenhim. There was a great amount of fire and vigour andintellectual life in his countenance; the auburn hair and thebrown eyes glowed together with the hue of a warm temperament;but that was tempered by a sweet and manly character. Ithought he had grown soberer than the Mr. Dinwiddie of myremembrance. 

That particular day lies in my memory like some far-off lakethat one has seen just under the horizon of a wide landscape, - a still bit of silvery light. It is not the distance, though, in this case, that gives it its shining. We were goingthat morning to visit Gibeon and Neby Samwil; and thelandscape was full, for me, of the peace which had come intothe relations between me and papa. It was a delicious springday; the flowers bursting under our feet with their freshsmiles; the air perfumed with herby scents and young sweetnessof nature; while associations of old time clustered all about, like sighs of history. - We went first along the great stonytrack which leads from Jerusalem to the north; then turnedaside into the great route from Jaffa to Jerusalem; not thesouthern and rougher way which re had taken when we came fromthe coast. This was he approach of almost all the armies whichhave poured their fury on the devoted city. We went singlefile, as one has to go in Palestine; and I liked it. There wastoo much to think of to make one want to talk. And thebuoyancy of the air seemed to feed mind as well as body, andgive all the stimulus needed. Mr. Dinwiddie sometimes calledout to me to point my attention to something; and the rest ofthe time I kept company with the past and my own musings. 

We visited Gibeon first, and stood by the dry pool where Abnerand Joab watched the fight of their twelve picked men; and weread Solomon's prayer. 

"This is a wonderful country, " said papa, "for the way itsassociations are packed. There is more history here than inany other region of the world. "

"Well, papa, it is the world's history, " I said. 

"What do you mean, Daisy?"

I hesitated; it was not very easy to tell. 

"She is right though, " said Mr. Dinwiddie; "it is the verycore of the world's history, round which the other is slowlygathering and maturing, to the perfected fruit. Or to take itanother way, - ever since God at the first did visit theGentiles, to take put of them a people for His name, Hisdealings with that people have been an earnest and an image ofHis course with His Church at large. We may cut down to theheart of the world and find the perfect flower here - as we doin bulbs. "

"A blossoming to destruction then, it seems, " said my father. 

"No!" said Mr. Dinwiddie - "to restoration and glory. Thehistory of this land is not yet finished. "

"And you think _that_ is in store for it yet?"

Mr. Dinwiddie answered, - " 'Thus saith the Lord; If ye canbreak my covenant of the day, and my covenant of the night, and that there should not be day and night in their season;then may also my covenant be broken with David my servant, that he should not have a son to reign upon his throne; andwith the Levites the priests, my ministers. As the hosts ofheaven cannot be numbered, neither the sand of the seameasured: so will I multiply the seed of David my servant, andthe Levites that minister unto me. ' "

"Who spoke that?"

"The prophet Jeremiah. "

"And when, pray?"

"When Nebuchadnezzar and his army were just upon the point ofcompleting the destruction of the city - and of the people. "

"Then it refers to their return from captivity, does it not?"

"As the type of the other restoration, " said Mr. Dinwiddie. "For 'In those days, and at that time, will I cause the Branchof righteousness to grow up unto David; and he shall executejudgment and righteousness in the land. In those days shallJudah be saved, and Jerusalem shall dwell safely; and this isthe name whereby she shall be called, The Lord ourrighteousness. ' Moreover, in Ezekiel's vision of a new templeand city, he gives the dimensions of the temple large enoughto take in all Jerusalem, and the holy city as many timesexceeding its utmost actual limits; and he says, 'The name ofthe city from that day shall be, The Lord is there. ' Jehovahshammah. I wish the day were come. "

"You take it as entirely figurative!" said papa. "I thoughtjust now you made it entirely literal. "

"What is a figure?" said Mr. Dinwiddie. "And if you take awaythe literal, where will the spiritual be?"

"True, " said papa. "These are things I have not studied. "

And then we mounted to the height of Neby Samwil and sat downfor a good long look. Mr. Dinwiddie was here as elsewhereinvaluable. He told us everything and pointed out everythingto us, that we ought to see or know. The seacoast plain laybelow; - spread out for many a mile, with here a height andthere a cluster of buildings, and the blue sea washing itswestern border. We could easily see Jaffa, Ramleh and Lydda;we picked those spots out first which we knew. Then Mr. Dinwiddie pointed us to Ashdod, and to Ekron, a little to theleft of Ramleh. 

"And that is where Nebuchadnezzar was with his army, before hewent up to Jerusalem, " I said. 

"The first time, " said Mr. Dinwiddie. "Yes; there his hosts ofChaldeans lay in the plain; and there after the place wastaken he impaled the chiefs of the town; and then flushed withpower, came up to Jerusalem and cast banks against it. So hesays; and we know that so Isaiah prophesied he would do; andwe know that Hezekiah bought him off. "

"Did he come up this way of the Beth-horons?" I asked. 

"I suppose so. And down this way, Joshua chased the fleeingkings and their followers and overthrew them as they fled downthe pass - what a rush it must have been! - and down there, down where the green sweeps into the hills from the plain, there is Ajalon. "

"Papa, do you see?"

"I see; but I do not understand quite so well as you do, Daisy, what you are talking about. "

"It is Miss Randolph's own country, " remarked Mr. Dinwiddie. 

"She is not a Jewess, " said papa. 

"Pardon me - we have it on authority that 'he is a Jew whichis one inwardly;' - an Israelite indeed, " Mr . Dinwiddiemuttered to himself. 

I saw papa was puzzled and half displeased. I hastened to turnthe conversation, and showed him where Bethel lay and themountains of Ephraim; and finally ordered our luncheon basketto be brought forward. But we had to leave our position andchoose a shaded place, the sun was growing so hot. 

"How long do you expect to remain here - in Palestine, Mr. Dinwiddie?" something prompted me to ask. He hesitated amoment or two and then replied -

"I cannot tell - probably as long as I stay anywhere on thisscene of action. "

"You do not mean ever to come home?" I said. 

"What is 'home, ' Miss Daisy?" he replied, looking at me. 

"It is where we were born, " said papa. 

"Would your daughter say so?"

"No, " I answered; for I was born at Magnolia. "But I thinkhome is where we have lived, - is it not?"

"Melbourne?" Mr. Dinwiddie suggested. 

"No, " said I; "it is not Melbourne now, to be sure; butneither could it be possibly any place in Europe, or Asia. "

"Are you sure? Not in _any_ circumstances?"

I cannot tell what, in his tone or look, drove his meaninghome. But I felt the colour rise in my face and I could notanswer. 

"It is where the heart is, after all, " Mr. Dinwiddie resumed. "The Syrian sky does not make much difference. _My_ home iswaiting for me. "

"But we speak of home here, and properly. "

"Properly, for those who have it. "

"I think, Mr. Dinwiddie, that we say 'home' sometimes, when wespeak only of where the heart was. "

"Better not, " he said. "Let us have a living home, not a deadone. And that we can, always. "

"What do you know of places where the heart _was?_" said papa, looking at me curiously. 

"Not much, papa; but I was thinking; and I think people meanthat sometimes. "

"We will both trust she will never come nearer to theknowledge, " said Mr. Dinwiddie, with one of his bright looksat papa and at me. It was assuming a little more interest inour affairs than I feared papa would like; but he took itquietly. More quietly than I could, though my reason fordisquietude was different. Mr. Dinwiddie's words had setvibrating a chord in my heart which could not just then give anote of pleasure. I wanted it to lie still. The wide fairlandscape took a look to me instantly, which indeed belongedto it, of "places where the heart was;" and the echo of brokenhopes came up to my ear from the gray ruins near and far. Yetthe flowers of spring were laughing and shouting under myfeet. Was it hope, or mockery?

"What are you questioning, Miss Daisy ?" said Mr. Dinwiddie, as he offered me some fruit. 

"I seemed to hear two voices in nature, Mr. Dinwiddie; - Iwanted to find out which was the true. "

"What were the voices? - and I will tell you. "

"One came from the old heap of Ekron yonder, and the ruins ofRamleh, and Jerusalem, and Gibeon, and Bethel; - the othervoice came from the flowers. "

"Trust the flowers. "

"Why, more than the ruins?"

"Remember, " - said he. "One is God's truth; the other is man'sfalsehood. "

"But the ruins tell truth too, Mr. Dinwiddie. "

"What truth? They tell of man's faithlessness, perversity, wrongheadedness, disobedience; persisted in, till there was noremedy. And now, to be sure, they are a desolation. But thatis not what God willed for the land. "

"Yet surely, Mr. Dinwiddie, there come desolations intopeople's lives too. "

"By the same reason. "

"Surely without it sometimes. "

"Nay, " he said. " 'The Lord redeemeth the soul of His servants;and none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate. ' "

"But their lives are empty sometimes?"

"That they may be more full, then. Depend on it, the promiseis sure, - they shall not want any good I thing. "

"One must let the Lord judge then, " I said somewhatsorrowfully, "what are the good things. "

"Will we not?" said Mr. Dinwiddie. "Do we know? We must agreeto his judgment, too; and then we shall find there is no wantto them that fear him. The Lord is my Shepherd! - I shall notwant. But the sheep follow the shepherd, and never dream ofchoosing out their own pasture, Miss Daisy. "

My voice choked a little and I could not answer. And all therest of the day I could not get back my quiet. The talk ofleaving the choice of my life out of my own hands, had rousedmy hands to cling to their choice with a terrible grasp lestit should be taken away from them. The idea that Thorold and Imight be parted from each other, made my heart leap out withinexpressible longing to be with him. It was not till we gothome to the Mount of Olives again, and I was watching theglory of the sunset, turning Jerusalem to gold and bringingout rosy and purple and amethyst hues from the Moab mountains, that my heart leapt back to its rest and I heard the voice ofnature and God again above the din of my own heart. 

As soon as the season was far enough advanced, and Mr. Dinwiddie could make his arrangements to be with us, we leftJerusalem and its surroundings and set off northwards. It washard to go. Where many a sorrowful traveller has left hislittle mound of farewell stones on Scopus, I stood and lookedback; as long as papa would wait for me. Jerusalem looked sofair, and the thought and prospect of another Jerusalem laybefore me, fairer indeed, but so distant. And I fancied stormsand some rough travelling between. And here, in the actualJerusalem, my life had been very sweet; peaceful with a wholeflood tide of peacefulness. I resolved I would not lose norforget this ungratefully; but as long as I could I would behappy. So I turned my face at last to enjoy every foot of theway to Nablous. 

During our stay at Jerusalem and on the Mount of Olives, ofcourse letters and papers had been received regularly; andsometimes a bit of news from America had made all our heartsstir. Mine, with a new throb of hope and possible exultation;for what we heard was on the side of Northern successes. Still, papa and Mr. Dinwiddie agreed these were but thefortune of war, and could not - in the nature of things last. The South could not be overcome. So they said, and I feared. But a thrill of possible doubt came over me when I heard ofFort Donelson, and the battle of Pea Ridge, and the prowess ofthe little iron-clad _Monitor_. And a great throb of anotherkind heaved my heart, when we got the news of PresidentLincoln's Message, recommending that assistance should begiven by Congress to every Southern State which would abolishslavery. A light broke in upon the whole struggle; and fromthat time the war was a different thing to me. Papa and Mr. Dinwiddie talked a great deal about it, discussing the subjectin almost all its bearings. I sat by and said nothing. 

I would not read the papers myself, all this time. In AmericaI had studied them, and in Switzerland and in Florence I haddevoured them. Here in the Holy Land, I had made an agreementwith myself to be happy; to leave the care of things which Icould not manage, and not to concern myself with thefluctuations on the face of affairs which I could not traceout to their consequences, do what I would. So. I heard theprincipal points of news from papa's talk and Mr. Dinwiddie's;I let the papers alone. Only with one exception. I could nothelp it. I could not withhold myself from looking at the listsof wounded and killed. I looked at nothing more; but thethought that one name might be there would have incessantlyhaunted me, if I had not made sure that it was not there. Idreaded every arrival from the steamers of a new mail budget. 

From Mr. Thorold I got no letter. Nor from Miss Cardigan. FromMrs. Sandford one; which told me nothing I wanted to know. Tomamma papa had writ- ten, describing to her the pleasure wewere enjoying and the benefit his health was deriving from ourjourney, and asking her to join us at Beyrout and spend thesummer on Lebanon. 

Towards Beyrout we now journeyed gently on; stopping andlingering by the way as our custom was. At Nablous, atNazareth, at Tiberias, at Safed, at Banias; then across thecountry to Sidon, down to Khaiffa and Carmel; finally we wentup to Beyrout. Papa enjoyed every bit of the way; to me it wasa journey scarcely of this earth, the happiness of it was sogreat. Mr. Dinwiddie everywhere our kind and skilful guide, counsellor, helper; knowing all the ground, and teaching us touse our time to the very best advantage. He made papa more atease about me, and me about papa. 

At Beyrout, for the first time since we left Jerusalem, wefound ourselves again in a hotel. Mr. Dinwiddie went to findour despatches that were awaiting us. Papa lay down on thecushions of a divan. I sat at the window, wondering at what Isaw. I wonder now at the remembrance. 

It was afternoon, and the shades and colours on the mountainsand the sea were a labyrinth of delight. Yes, the eye and themind lost themselves again and again, to start back again tothe consciousness of an enchanted existence. The mountainsrising from the coast were in full view of my window, shadedwith all sorts of green from the different woods andcultivation which clothed their sides. The eye followed theirgrowing heights and ridges, till it rested on the snow summitof Sunnin; then swept round the range to the southward; butever came back again to the lofty, reposeful majesty of thatwhite mountain top in the blue ether. Little streams I couldsee dashing down the rocks; a white thread amongst the green;castles or buildings of some stately sort were upon everycrag; I found afterwards they were monasteries. The sea wavesbreaking on the rocks of the shore gave other touches ofwhite, and the sea was taking a deep hue, and the townstretching back from it looked gay and bright, with prettyhouses and palm trees and palaces, and, bright-coloureddresses flitting here and there in the streets; and whitesails were on the sea. I had never seen, I have never seen, anything more lovely than Beyrout. I had come to the cityrather anxious; for we expected there to meet a great budgetof news, which I always dreaded; wandering about from place toplace, we had been blissfully separated for some time from alldisturbing intelligence. Now we must meet it, perhaps; but theglory of the beauty before me wrapped my heart round as withan unearthly shield. Peace, peace, and good will, - it spoke, from Him who made the beauty and owned the glory; softly itreminded me that my Father in heaven could not fail in lovenor in resources. I leaned my head against the frame of theopen window, and rested and was glad. 

Mr. Dinwiddie came back with a business step. I looked up, butI would not fear. He laid a pile of letters and papers beforepapa, and then sat down to the consideration of some of hisown. 

"What is doing at home, Dinwiddie?" papa asked. 

"A good deal, since our last advices. "

"What? I am tired of reading about it. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Dinwiddie. "You want me to save you thetrouble?"

"If it is no trouble to you. "

"The news is of several advantages gained by the Yankees. "

"That won't last, " said papa. "But there are alwaysfluctuations in these things. "

"Back in March, " Mr. Dinwiddie went on, "there are reportedtwo engagements in which our troops came off second best - atNewhern and at Winchester. It is difficult perhaps to know theexact truth - the papers on the two sides hold such differentlanguage. But the sixth of April there was a furious battle atPittsburg Landing, our men headed by Beauregard, Polk andSidney Johnston, when our men got the better very decidedly;the next day came up a sweeping reinforcement of the enemyunder Grant and others, and took back the fortune of war intotheir own hands, it seems. "

"Perhaps that is doubtful too, " observed my father. 

"I see Beauregard asked permission to bury his dead. "

"Many killed?" asked my father. 

"Terribly many. There were large numbers engaged, and fiercefighting. "

So they _can_ do it, I said to myself, amid all my heart-beating. 

"There will be of course, some variation of success, " said myfather. 

"The pendulum is swung all to one side, in these last news, "said Mr. Dinwiddie. 

"What next?"

"Fort Pulaski is taken. "

"Pulaski!" my father exclaimed. 

"Handsomely done, after a bombardment of thirty hours. "

"I am surprised, I confess, " said papa. 

"The House of Representatives has passed a bill for theabolition of slavery in the District. "

"Oh, I am glad!" I exclaimed. "_That_ is good. "

"Is that _all_ you think good in the news?" said Mr. Dinwiddie alittle pointedly. 

"Daisy is a rebel, " said papa. 

"No, papa; not _I_ surely. I stand by the President and theCountry. "

"Then _we_ are rebels, Dinwiddie, " said papa, half wearily. "Half the country is playing the fool, that is clear; and thewhole must suffer. "

"But the half where the seat of war is, suffers the most. "

"That will not last, " said papa. "I know the South. "

"I wonder if we know the North, " said Mr. Dinwiddie. "Farraguthas run the gauntlet of the forts at the mouth of theMississippi and taken New Orleans. "

"Taken New Orleans!" my father exclaimed again, rising half upas he lay on the cushions of the divan. 

"It was done in style, " said Mr. Dinwiddie, looking along thecolumns of his paper. "Let me read you this, Mr. Randolph. "

Papa assented, and he read; while I turned my face to thewindow again, and listened to Farragut's guns and looked atLebanon. What a strange hour it was! There was hope at workand rejoicing; but it shook me. And the calmness of theeverlasting hills and the mingled sweetnesses of the air, camein upon the fever of my heart with cooling and quieting power. The sea grew a deeper blue as I listened and looked; themountains - what words can tell the mantle of their own purplethat enfolded them as the evening came on; and the snowyheights of Sunnin and Kunisyeh grew rosy. I looked and I drankit in; and I could not fear for the future. 

I believe I had fallen into a great reverie, during which Mr. Dinwiddie ended his reading and left the room. It was papa'stouch on my shoulder that roused me. He had come to my side. 

"Are you happy, Daisy?" was his question. 

"Papa? -" I said in bewilderment. 

"Your face was as calm as if you had nothing to think about. "

"I had been thinking, papa. I was thinking, I believe. "

"Does this strange news make you happy?"

"Oh, no, papa; not that. "

"What then?"

"Something that is no news, and that never can grow old, papa. The mountains and the sea were just reminding me of it. "

"You mean - what? You speak riddles, Daisy. "

"Papa, you would give me everything good for me, if youcould. "

He kissed me fondly. 

"I would, my child. Whether I can, or no, that troubles me byits uncertainty. "

"Papa, my Father in heaven can, and will. There is no doubtabout His power. And so there is no uncertainty. "

"Daisy! -" said papa, looking at me in a strange way. 

"Yes, papa, I mean it. Papa, you know it is true. "

"I know you deserve all I can give you, " he said, taking myface in his two hands and looking into it. "Daisy - is thereanybody in the world that loves you as well as I do?"

That was a little too much, to bring up my heart in words inthat manner. In spite of my composure, which I thought sostrong, I was very near bursting into tears. I believe my faceflushed and then grew pale with the struggle. Papa took me inhis arms. 

"You shall have no trouble that I can shield you from, " hesaid tenderly. "I will put nothing between you and this youngman if he is worthy of you, Daisy. I will pat nothing. Butothers may. My power reaches only a certain distance. "

"Papa -" I began, but I could not say what I would. 

"Well?3 - said he tenderly, stroking my hair, "what is it? Iwould keep all trouble from you, my pet, if I could. "

"Papa, " I whispered, "that may not be best. We must leavethat. But papa, if you only knew what I know and were glad asI am glad, - I think I could bear all the rest!"

"How shall I be glad as you are glad, Daisy?" he said, halfsadly. 

"Papa, let Jesus make you happy!"

"You are talking Hebrew, my child. "

"No, papa; for if you seek Him, He _will_ make you happy. "

"Come! we will seek him from to-day, " my father said. 

And that was my summer on Lebanon. My mother wrote that shewould not join us in Syria; she preferred to remain in Paris, where she had my aunt Gary's company and could receive theAmerican news regularly. Her words were bitter and scornfulabout the successes of the Northern army and McClellan'sfruitless siege of Yorktown; so bitter, that papa and I passedthem over without a word of comment, knowing how they bore onmy possible future. 

But we, we studied the Bible, and we lived on Lebanon. Andwhen I have said that, I have said all. From one village toanother, higher and higher up, we went; pitching our tentsunder the grand old walnut trees, within sight or hearing ofmountain torrents that made witcheries of beauty in the deepravines; studying sunrisings, when the light came over themountain's brow and lit our broken hillside by degrees, ourwalnut tree tops and the thread of the rushing stream; andsunsets, when the sun looked at us from the far-offMediterranean and touched no spot of Lebanon but to make aglorified place of it. With Mr. Dinwiddie we took rides todifferent scenes of wonder and beauty; made excursionssometimes of a week or two long; we dreamed at Baalbec andrejoiced under the Cedars. Everywhere papa and I read theBible. Mr. Dinwiddie left us for some time during the summer, and returned again a few days before we left Lebanon andSyria. 

"So you are going to-morrow" - he said the last evening, as heand I were watching the sunset from the edge of the ravinewhich bordered our camping-ground. I made no answer, for myheart was too full. 

"It has been a good summer, " he said. I bowed my head inassent. 

"And now, " he said, "you push out into the world again. I feelabout you as I did when I saw your little craft just startingforth, and knew there were breakers ahead. "

"You do not know that now, Mr. Dinwiddie?" I said. 

"I know there are rocks. If the sea should let you pass themin quiet, it would be a wonder. "

That was too true, I knew. I could only be silent. 

"How do you feel?" he next asked. 

"I know it is as you say, Mr. Dinwiddie. "

"And in view of it? -"

"What can I do, - Mr. Dinwiddie?"

"Nothing to avoid the rocks. The helm is not in your hand. "

"But I know in whose hand it is. "

"And are willing to have it there?"

"More than willing, " I said, meeting his eye. 

"Then the boat will go right, " he said, with a sort of accentof relief. "It is the cross pulls with the oar, striving toundo the work of the rudder, that draw the vessel out of hercourse. The Pilot knows, - if you can only leave it to thePilot. "

There was a pause again. 

"But He sometimes takes the boat into the breakers, " Mr. Dinwiddie said. 

"Yes, " I said. "I know it. "

"What then, Daisy, my friend?"

"What then, Mr. Dinwiddie?" I said, looking up at him. "Thenshe must be broken to pieces. "

"And what then? Can you trust the Pilot still?"

His great eyes were flashing and glittering as he looked atme. No careless nor aimless thought had caused such aninterrogatory, I knew. I met the eyes which seemed to beblazing and melting at once, but I answered only by the look. 

"You may, " he went on, without taking his eyes from mine. "Youmay trust safely. Even if the vessel is shaken and broken, trust even then, when all seems gone. There shall be smoothwaters yet; and a better voyage than if you had gone a lesswearisome way. "

"Why do you say all this to me, Mr. Dinwiddie?"

"Not because I am a prophet, " he said, looking away now, -"for I am none. And if I saw such trials ahead for you, Ishould have hardly courage to utter them. I asked, to comfortmyself; that I might know of a certainty that you are safe, whatever comes. "

"Thank you, " I said, rather faintly. 

"I shall stay here, " he went on presently, "in the land of mywork; and you will be gone to-morrow for other scenes. Itisn't likely you will ever see me again. But if ever you needa friend, on the other side of the globe, if you call me, Iwill come. It is folly to say that, though, " he said pluckinghastily at a spear of grass; - "you will not need nor think ofme. But I suppose you know, Daisy, by this time, that allthose who come near you, love you. I am no exception. You musthave charity for me. "

"Dear Mr. Dinwiddie, " I said reaching out my hand, - "if Iwere in trouble and wanted a friend, there is no one in theworld that I would sooner, or - rather, or as soon or as lief, ask to help me. Except -" I added, and could not finish mysentence. For I had remembered there was an exception whichought to be implied somewhere. 

"I know, " he said, wringing my hand. "I wish I could heapblessings on the head of the exception. Now let us go in. "

The next day we rode down to Beyrout, and took the steamerthat same evening. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A MASKED BATTERY

My Palestine holiday lasted, in some measure, all the way ofour journey home; and left me at the very moment when weentered our Parisian hotel and met mamma. It left me then. Allthe air of the place, much more all the style of mamma's dressand manner, said at once that we had come into another world. She was exquisitely dressed; that was usual; it could not havebeen only that, nor the dainty appointments around her; - itwas something in her bearing, an indescribable something evenas she greeted us, which said, You have played your play - nowyou will play mine. And it said, I cannot tell how, The cardsare in my hands. 

Company engaged her that evening. I saw little of her till thenext day. At our late breakfast then we discussed many things. Not much of Palestine; mamma did not want to hear much ofthat. She had had it in our letters, she said. Americanaffairs were gone into largely; with great eagerness andbitterness by both mamma and Aunt Gary; with triumphs over thedisasters of the Union army before Richmond, and other lesseraffairs in which the North had gained no advantage; invectivesagainst the President's July proclamation, his impudence andhis cowardice; and prophecies of ruin to him and his cause. Papa listened and said little. I heard and was silent; withthrobbing forebodings of trouble. 

"Daisy is handsomer than ever, " my aunt remarked, when evenpolitics had exhausted themselves. But I wondered what she wasthinking of when she said it. Mamma lifted her eyes andglanced me over. 

"Daisy has a rival, newly appeared, " she said. "She must doher best. "

"There cannot be rivalry, mamma, where there is nocompetition, " I said. 

"Cannot there?" said mamma. "You never told us, Daisy, of _your_successes in the North. "

I do not think I flushed at all in answer to this remark; theblood seemed to me to go all to my heart. 

"Who has been Daisy's trumpeter?" papa asked. 

"There is a friend of hers here, " mamma said, slowly sippingher coffee. I do not know how I sat at the table; thingsseemed to swim in a maze before my eyes; then mamma went on, -"What have you done with your victim, Daisy?"

"Mamma, " I said, "I do not at all know of whom you arespeaking. "

"Left him for dead, I suppose, " she said. "He has met with agood Samaritan, I understand, who carried oil and wine. "

Papa's eye met mine for a moment. 

"Felicia, " he said, "you are speaking very unintelligibly. Ibeg you will use clearer language, for all our sakes. "

"Daisy understands, " she said. 

"Indeed I do not, mamma. "

"Not the good Samaritan's part, of course. That has come sinceyou were away. But you knew once that a Northern Blue-coat hadbeen pierced by the fire of your eyes?"

"Mamma, " I said, - "if you put it so, I have known it of morethan one. "

"Imagine it!" said mamma, with an indescribable gesture oflip, which yet was gracefully slight. 

"Imagine what?" said papa. 

"One of those canaille venturing to look at Daisy!"

"My dear, " said papa, "pray do not fail to remember, that wehave passed a large portion of our life among those whom youdenominate canaille, and who always were permitted theprivilege of looking at us all. I do not recollect that wefelt it any derogation from anything that belonged to us. "

"Did you let him look at you, Daisy?" mamma said, lifting herown eyes up to me. "It was cruel of you. "

"Your friend Miss St. Clair, is here, Daisy, " my aunt Garysaid. 

"My friend!" I repeated. 

"She is your friend, " said mamma. "She has bound up the woundsyou have made, Daisy, and saved you from being in the fullsense a destroyer of human life. "

"When did Faustina come here?" I asked. 

"She has been here a month. Are you glad?"

"She was never a particular friend of mine, mamma. "

"You will love her now, " said mamma; and the conversationturned. It had only filled me with vague fears. I could notunderstand it. 

I met Faustina soon in company. She was as brilliant a visionas I have often seen; her beauty was perfected in herwomanhood, and was of that type which draws all eyes. She wasnot changed, however; and she was not changed towards me. Shemet me with the old coldness; with a something besides which Icould not fathom. It gave me a secret feeling of uneasiness; Isuppose, because that in it I read a meaning of exultation, asecret air of triumph, which, I could not tell how or why, directed itself towards me and gathered about my head. It grewdisagreeable to me to meet her; but I was forced to do thisconstantly. We never talked together more than a few words;but as we passed each other, as our eyes met and hers wentfrom me, as she smiled at the next opening of her mouth, Ifelt always something sinister, or at least something hidden, which took the shape of an advantage gained. I tried to meether with perfect pleasantness, but it grew difficult. In mycircumstances I was very open to influences of discouragementor apprehension; indeed the trouble was to fight them off. This intangible evil however presently took shape. 

I thought I had observed that for a day or two my father'seyes had lingered on me frequently with a tender or wistfulexpression, more than usual. I did not know what it meant. Mamma was pushing me into company all this while, and makingno allusion to my own private affairs, if she had any clue tothem. One morning I had excused myself from an engagementwhich carried away my aunt and her, that I might have a quiettime to read with papa. Our readings had been much broken inupon - lately. With a glad step I went to papa's room; astudy, I might call it, where he spent all of the time he didnot wish to give to society. He was there, expecting me; awood-fire was burning on the hearth; the place had the air ofcomfort and seclusion and intelligent leisure; books andengravings and works of art scattered about, and luxuriouseasy-chairs standing ready for the accommodation of papa andme. 

"This is nice, papa!" I said, as the cushions of one of themreceived me. 

"It is not quite the Mount of Olives, " said papa. 

"No indeed!" I answered; and my eyes filled. The bustle of thefashionable world was all around me, the storms of thepolitical world were shaking the very ground where I stood, the air of our little social world was not as on Lebanon sweetand pure. When would it be again? Papa sat thinking in hiseasy-chair. 

"How do you like Paris, my child?"

"Papa, it does not make much difference, Italy or Paris, solong as I am where you are, and we can have a little timetogether. "

"Your English friend has followed you from Florence. "

"Yes, papa. At least he is here. "

"And your German friend. "

"He is here, papa. "

There was a silence. I wondered what papa was thinking of, butI did not speak, for I saw he was thinking. 

"You have never heard from your American friend?"

"No, papa. "

"Daisy, " said papa, tenderly, and looking at me now, - "youare strong?"

"Am I, papa?"

"I think you are. You can bear the truth, cannot you?"

"I hope I can, -any truth that you have to tell me, " I said. One thought of terrible evil chilled my heart for a moment, and passed away. Papa's tone and manner did not touch anythinglike that. Though it was serious enough to awake myapprehension. I could not guess what to apprehend. 

"Did you get any clear understanding of what your mother mightmean, one day at breakfast, when she was alluding to friendsof yours in America? - you remember?"

"I remember. I did not understand in the least, papa. "

"It had to do with Miss St. Clair. "

"Yes. "

"It seems she spent all the last winter in Washington, wherethe society was unusually good, it is said, as well asunusually military. I do not know how that can be true, whenall Southerners were of course out of the city - but that's nomatter. A girl like this St. Clair girl of course knew all theepaulettes there were. "

"Yes, papa - she is always very much admired. She must be thateverywhere. "

"I suppose so, though I don't like her, " said papa. "Well, Daisy, - I do not know how to tell you. She knew your friend. "

"Yes, papa. "

"And he admired her. "

I was silent, wondering what all this was coming to. 

"Do you understand me, Daisy? - She has won him from you. "

A feeling of sickness passed over me; it did not last. Onevision of my beautiful enemy, one image of her as Mr. Thorold's friend, - it made me sick for that instant; then, Ibelieve I looked up and smiled. 

"Papa, it is not true, I think. "

"It is well attested, Daisy. "

"By whom?"

"By a friend of Miss St. Clair, who was with her in Washingtonand knew the whole progress of the affair, and testifies totheir being engaged. "

"To whose being engaged, papa?"

"Miss St. Clair and your friend, - Colonel Somebody. I forgethis name, Daisy, though you told me, I believe. "

"He was not a colonel, papa; not at all; not near it. "

"No. He has been promoted, I understand. Promotions are rapidin the Northern army now-a-days; a lieutenant in the regularsis transformed easily into a colonel of volunteers. They wantmore officers than they have got, I suppose. "

I remained silent, thinking. 

"Who told you all this, papa?"

"Your mother. She has it direct from the friend of yourrival. "

"But, papa, nobody knew about me. It was kept entirelyprivate. "

"Not after you came away, I suppose. How else should thisstory be told as of the gentleman _you were engaged to?_"

I waited a little while, to get my voice steady, and then Iwent on with my reading to papa. Once he interrupted me tosay, "Daisy, how do you take this that I have been tellingyou?" - and at the close of our reading he asked again in aperplexed manner, "You do not let it trouble you, Daisy?" -and each time I answered him, "I do not believe it, papa. "Neither did I; but at the same time a dreadful shadow ofpossibility came over my spirit. I could not get from underit, and my soul fainted, as those were said to do who lay downfor shelter under the upas tree. A poison as of death seemedto distil upon me from that shadow. Not let it trouble me? Itwas a man's question, I suppose, put with a man'spowerlessness to read a woman's mind; even though the man wasmy father. 

I noticed from that time more than ever his tender lingeringlooks upon me, wistful, and doubtful. It was hard to bearthem, and I would not confess to them. I would not and did notshow by look or word that I put faith in the story my fatherhad brought me, or that I had lost faith in any one who hadever commanded it. Indeed I did not believe the story. I didtrust Mr. Thorold. Nevertheless the cold chill of a "What if?"- fell upon me sometimes. Could I say that it was animpossibility, that he should have turned from me, from onewhom such a thorn hedge of difficulties encompassed, toanother woman so much, - I was going to say, so much morebeautiful; but I do not mean that, for I do not think it. No, but to one whose beauty was so brilliant and whose hand was soattainable? It would not be an impossibility in the case ofmany men. Yes, I trusted Mr. Thorold; but so had other womentrusted. A woman's trust is not a guarantee for the worthinessof its object. I had only my trust and my knowledge. Could Isay that both might not be mistaken? And trust as I would, these thoughts would rise. 

Now it was very hard for me to meet Faustina St. Clair, andbear the supercilious air of confident triumph with which sheregarded me. I think nobody could have observed this or readit but myself only; its tokens were too exceedingly slightand inappreciable for anything but the tension of my own heartto feel. I always felt it, whenever we were in companytogether; and though I always said at such times, "Christiancannot love her, " - when I was at home and alone, the shadowof doubt and jealousy came over me again. Everything withersin that shadow. A woman must either put it out of her heart, somehow, or grow a diseased and sickly thing, mentally andmorally. I found that I was coming to this in my own mind andcharacter; and that brought me to a stand. 

I shut myself up one or two nights - I could not command mydays - and spent the whole night in thinking and praying. Twothings were before me. The story might be somehow untrue. Timewould show. In the meanwhile, nothing but trust would havedone honour to Mr. Thorold or to myself. I thought it wasuntrue. But suppose it were not, - suppose that the joy of mylife were gone, passed over to another; who had done it? Bywhose will was my life stripped? The false faith or theweakness of friend or enemy could not have wrought thus, if ithad not been the will of God that His child should be sotried; that she should go through just this sorrow, for somegreat end or reason known only to Himself. Could I not trustHim -?

If there is a vulture whose claws are hard to unloose from thevitals of the spirit, I think it is jealousy. I found it hadgot hold of me, and was tearing the life out of me. I knew itin time. O sing praise to our King, you who know Him! he ismightier than our enemies; we need not be the prey of any. ButI struggled and prayed, more than one night through, beforefaith could gain the victory. Then it did. I gave the matterinto my Lord's hands. If he had decreed that I was to lose Mr. Thorold, and in this way, - why, I was my Lord's, to do withas He pleased; it would all be wise and glorious, and kindtoo, whatever He did. I would just leave that. But in the meantime, till I knew that He had taken my joy from me, I wouldnot believe it; but would go on trusting the friend I hadbelieved so deserving of trust. I would believe in Mr. Thoroldstill and be quiet, till I knew my confidence was misplaced. 

It was thoroughly done at last. I gave up myself to God againand my affairs; and the rest that is unknown anywhere else, came to me at His feet. I gave up being jealous of Faustina. If the Lord pleased that she should have what had been soprecious to me, why, well! I gave it up. But not till I wassure I had cause. 

What a lull came upon my harassed and tossed spirit, which hadbeen like a stormy sea under cross winds. Now it lay still, and could catch the reflection of the sun again and the blueof heaven. I could go into society now and please mamma, andread at home to papa and give him the wonted gratification;and I could meet Faustina with an open brow and a free hand. 

"Daisy, you are better this day or two, " papa said to me, wistfully. "You are like yourself. What is it, my child?"

"It is Christ, my Lord, papa. "

"I do not know what you can mean by that, Daisy, " said papa, looking grave. "You are not an enthusiast or a fanatic. "

"It is not enthusiasm, papa, to believe God's promises. Itcan't be fanaticism, to be glad of them. "

"Promises?" said papa. "What are you talking of?"

"Papa, I am a servant of Christ, " I said; I remember I wasarranging the sticks of wood on the fire as I spoke, and itmade pauses between my words; - "and He has promised to takecare of His servants and to let no harm come to them, - noreal harm; - how can I be afraid, papa? My Lord knows, - Heknows all about it and all about me; I am safe; I have nothingto do to be afraid. "

"Safe from what?"

"Not from trouble, papa; I do not mean that. He may see thatit is best that trouble should come to me. But it will notcome unless He sees that it is best; and I can trust Him. "

"My dear child, is there not a little fanaticism there?"

"How, papa?"

"It seems to me to sound like it. "

"It is nothing but believing God, papa. "

"I wish I understood you, " said papa, thoughtfully. 

So I knelt down beside him and put my arms about him, and toldhim what I wanted him to understand; much more than I had everbeen able to do before. The pain and sorrow of the past fewweeks had set me free, and the rest of heart of the last fewdays too. I told papa all about it. I think, as Philip did toQueen Candace's servant, I "preached to him Jesus. "

"So that is what you mean by being a Christian, " said papa atlast. "It is not living a good moral life and keeping allone's engagements. "

" 'By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified. 'Even you, papa, are not good enough for that. God's law callsfor perfection. "

"Nobody is perfect. "

"No, papa; and so all have come short of the glory of God. "

"Well, then, I don't see what you are going to do, Daisy. "

"Christ has paid our debt, papa. "

"Then nobody need do anything. "

"Oh, no, papa; for the free pardon that is made out for youand me - the white robe that Christ counsels us to buy of Him- waits for our acceptance and is given only on conditions. Itis ready for every one who will trust Christ and obey Him; afree pardon, papa; a white robe that will hide all ourugliness. But we must be willing to have it on theconditions. "

"And how then, Daisy?"

"Why, this way, papa. See, - I am dead - with Christ; it is asif I myself had died under the law, instead of my substitute;the penalty is paid, and the law has nothing to say to a deadmalefactor, you know, papa. And now, I am dead to the law, andmy life is Christ's. I live because He lives, and by HisSpirit living in me; all I am and have belongs to Christ; thelife that I live, I live by the faith of the Son of God, wholoved me and gave Himself for me. I am not trying to keep thelaw, to buy my life; but I am _keeping_ the law, because Christhas given me life - do you see, papa? and all my life is loveto Him. "

"It seems to me, Daisy, " said papa, "that if faith is all, people may lead what lives they choose. "

"Papa, the faith that believes in Christ, loves and obeys Him;or it is just no faith. It is nothing. It is dead. "

"And faith makes such a change in people's feelings andlives?"

"Why, yes, papa, for then they live by Christ's strength andnot their own; and in the love of Him, and not in the love ofthemselves any longer. "

"Daisy, " said papa, "it is something I do not know, and I seethat you do know; and I would like to be like you anyhow. Prayfor me, my child, that I may have that faith. "

I had never done it in his presence before, but now I kneltdown by the table and uttered all my heart to the One whocould hear us both. I could not have done it, I think, a fewweeks earlier; but this last storm had seemed to shake me freefrom everything. What mattered, if I could only help to showpapa the way? He was weeping, I think, while I was praying; Ithought he sought to hide the traces of it when I rose up; andI went from the room with a gladness in my heart that said, "What if, even if Thorold is lost to me! There is somethingbetter beyond. "

Papa and I seemed to walk on a new plane from that day. Therewas a hidden sympathy between us, which had its root in thedeepest ground of our nature. We never had been one before, aswe were one from that time. 

It was but a few days, and another thing happened. The mailbag had come in as usual, and I had gathered up my littleparcel of letters and gone with it to my room, before Iexamined what they were. A letter evidently from Mr. Dinwiddiehad just made my heart leap with pleasure, when glancing atthe addresses of the rest before I broke the seal of this, Isaw what made my heart stand still. It was the handwriting ofMr. Thorold. I think my eyes grew dim and dazed for a minute;then I saw clearly enough to open the envelope, which showedsigns of having been a traveller. There was a letter for me, such a letter as I had wanted; such as I had thirsted for; itwas not long, for it was written by a busy man, but it waslong enough, for it satisfied my thirst. Enclosed with it wasanother envelope directed to papa. 

I waited to get calm again; for the joy which shot through allmy veins was a kind of elixir of life; it produced too muchexhilaration for me to dare to see anybody. Yet I think I wasweeping; but at any rate, I waited till my nerves were quietand under control, and then I went with the letter to papa. Iknew mamma was just gone out and there was no fear ofinterruption. Papa read the letter, and read it, and looked upat me. 

"Do you know what this is, Daisy?"

"Papa, I guess. I know what it was meant to be. "

"It is a cool demand of you, " said papa. 

I was glad, and proud; that was what it ought to be; that waswhat I knew it suited papa that it should be. I stood by themantelpiece, waiting. 

"So you knew about it?"

"Mr. Thorold said he would write to you, papa. I had beenafraid, and asked him not. I wanted him to wait till he couldsee you. "

"One sees a good deal of a man in his letters, " said papa;"and this is a man's letter. He thinks enough of himself, Daisy. "

"Papa, - not too much. "

"I did not say too much; but enough; and a man who does notthink enough of himself is a poor creature. I would not have aman ask me for you, Daisy, who did not in his heart think hewas worthy of you. "

"Papa, you draw nice distinctions, " I said half laughing. 

"That would be simple presumption, not modesty; this ismanliness. "

We were both silent upon this; papa considering the letter, orits proposal; I thinking of Mr. Thorold's manliness, andfeeling very much pleased that he had shown it and papa haddiscerned it so readily. The silence lasted till I began to becurious. 

"What shall we do now, Daisy?" papa said at last. I left himto answer his own question. 

"Hey? What do you wish me to do?"

"Papa, - I hope you will give him a kind answer. "

"How can I get it to him?"

"I can enclose it to an aunt of his, whom I know. She can getit to him. She lives in New York. "

"His aunt? So you know his family?

"No one of them, papa, but this one; his mother's sister. "

"What sort of a person is she?"

So I sat down and told papa about Miss Cardigan. He listenedwith a very grave, thoughtful face; asking few questions, butkissing me. And then, without more ado, he turned to the tableand wrote a letter, writing very fast, and handed it to me. Itwas all I could have asked that it might be. My heart filledwith grateful rest. 

"Will that do?" said papa as I gave it back. 

"Papa, only one thing more, - if you are willing, that weshould sometimes write to each other?"

"Hm - that sounds moderate, " said papa. "By the way, why wasnot this letter written and sent sooner? What is the date? -why, Daisy! -"

"What, papa?"

"My child, this letter, - it is a good year old, and more;written in the beginning of last winter. "

It took me a little while to get the full bearings of this;then I saw that it dated back to a time quite anterior to thecircumstances of Faustina St. Clair's story, whatever thatamounted to. Papa was all thrown back. 

"This is good for nothing, now, you see, Daisy. "

"Oh, no, papa. "

"For the purposes of action. "

"Papa, it does not matter, the date. "

"Yes, Daisy, it does; for it speaks of a man of last year, andmy answer would go to a man of this year. "

"They are not different men, papa. "

"I must be assured of that. " He was folding up his letter, hisown, and I saw the next thing would be to throw it into thefire. I laid my hand over his. 

"Papa, don't do that. Let me have it. "

"I cannot send it. "

"Papa, let me have it. I will send it to Miss Cardigan - sheloves me almost as well as you do - I will tell her; and ifthere is any truth in mamma's story, Miss Cardigan will knowand she will burn the letter, just as well as you. And so youwould escape doing a great wrong. "

"You may be mistaken, my child. "

"Then Miss Cardigan will burn the letter, papa. I can trusther. "

"Can _I_ trust her?"

"Yes, papa, through me. Please let me have it. There shallcome no harm from this, papa. "

"Daisy, your mother says he is engaged to this girl. "

"It is a mistake, papa. "

"You cannot prove it, my child. "

"Time will. "

"Then will be soon enough for my action. "

"But papa, in the mean time? - think of the months he has beenwaiting already for an answer -"

I suppose the tears were in my eyes, as I pleaded, with myhand still upon papa's hand, covering the papers. He slowlydrew his hand away, leaving the letter under mine. 

"Well!" - said he, - "do as you will. "

"You are not unwilling, papa?"

"I am a little unwilling, Daisy; but I cannot deny you, child. I hope you are right. "

"Then, papa, add that one word about letters, will you?"

"And if it is all undeserved?"

"It is not, papa. "

Papa set his teeth for a moment, with a look which, however, wonted perhaps in his youthful days, I had very rarely seencalled up in him. It passed then, and he wrote the brief wordI had asked for, of addition to his letter, and gave it to me;and then took me in his arms and kissed me again. 

"You are not very wise in the world, my Daisy, " he said; "andmen would say I am not. But I cannot deny you. Guard yourletter to Miss Cardigan. And for the present all this mattershall sleep in our own bosoms. "

"Papa, " I asked, "how much did mamma know - I mean - how muchdid she hear about me that was true?"

"It was reported that you had been engaged. "

"She heard that. "

"Yes. "

"She has never spoken about it. "

"She thinks it not necessary. "

I was silent a moment, pondering, as well I might; but then Ikissed papa and thanked him, and went off and wrote and postedmy letter with its enclosure. Sufficient to the day is theevil thereof. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

ONE FALLEN

I sent my letter, and waited. I got no answer. The weeksrolled on, and the months. It was palpable, that delays whichhad kept back one letter for a year might affect the deliveryof another letter in the same way; but it is hard, thestraining one's eyes into thick darkness with the vainendeavour to see something. 

The months were outwardly gay; very full of society life, though not of the kind that I cared for. I went into it toplease mamma; and succeeded but partially; for she insisted Iwas too sober and did not half take the French tone of easy, light, graceful skimming over the surface of things. But mammacould be deep and earnest too on her own subjects of interest. The news of President Lincoln's proclamation, setting free theslaves of the rebel States, roused her as much as she could beroused. There were no terms to her speech or my aunt Gary's;violent and angry against not only the President, buteverything and everybody that shared Northern growth andextraction. - How bitterly they sneered at "Massachusettscodfish;" - I think nothing would have induced either of themto touch it; and whatsoever belonged to the East or the North, not only meats and drinks, but Yankee spirit and manners andcourage, were all, figuratively, put under foot and welltrampled on. I listened and trembled, sometimes; sometimes Ilistened and rejoiced. For, after all, my own affairs were notthe whole world; and a thrill of inexpressible joy wentthrough me when I remembered that my old Maria, and Pete, andthe Jems, and Darry, were all, by law, freed for ever from theoppression of Mr. Edwards and any like him; and that the dayof their actual emancipation would come, so soon as the rightsof the Government should be established over the South. And ofthis issue I began to be a little hopeful, beginning tobelieve that it might be possible. Antietam and Corinth, andFredricksburg and New Orleans, with varying fortune, had atleast proclaimed to my ear that Yankees could fight; there wasno doubt of that now; and Southern prowess could not alwaysprevail against theirs. Papa ceased to question it, I noticed;though mamma's sneers grew more intense as the occasion forthem grew less and less obvious. 

The winter passed, and the spring came; and moved on with itssweet step of peace, as it does even when men's hearts are allat war. The echo of the battlefields of Virginias wept throughthe Boulevards with met often; and it thundered at home. Mammahad burst into new triumph at the news of Chancellorsville;and uttered with great earnestness her wish that JeffersonDavis might be able to execute the threat of his proclamationand hang General Butler. But for me, I got no letter; andthese echoes began to sound in my ear like the distant outsiderumblings of the storm to one whose hearthstone it has alreadyswept and laid desolate. I was not desolate; yet I began tolisten as one whose ears were dim with listening. I metFaustina St. Clair again with uneasiness. Not the torment ofmy former jealousy; but a stir of doubt and pain which I couldnot repress at the sight of her. 

When the summer drew on, to my great pleasure we went toSwitzerland again. We established ourselves quietly atLucerne, which papa was very fond of. There we were much morequiet than we had been the fall before; Ransom having gonehome now to take his share in the struggle, and our twoSouthern friends who had also gone, having no successors likethem in our little home circle. We made not so many and not solong excursions. But papa and I had good time for ourreadings; and I had always a friend with whom I could takecounsel, in the grand old Mont Pilatte. What a friend thatmountain was to me, to be sure! When I was downhearted, andwhen anything made me glad; when I was weary and when I wasmost full of life; its grand head in the skies told me oftruth and righteousness and strength; the light and coloursthat played and rested there, as it held, the sun's beams andgave them back to earth, were a sort of promise to me ofbeauty and life above and beyond this earth; yes, and of itssubstantial existence now, even when we do not see it. Theywere a little hint of what we do not see. I do not exactlyknow what was the language of the wreaths of vapour that robedand shrouded and then revealed the mountain, with theexquisite shiftings and changings of their gracefulness; Ibelieve it was like, to me, the floating veil that hides God'spurposes from us, yet now and then parting enough to let ussee the eternal truth and unchangeableness behind it. I toldall my moods to Mont Pilatte, and I think it told all itsmoods to me. After a human friend, there is nothing like a bigmountain. And when the news of Gettysburg and Vicksburg came;and mamma grew furious; and I saw for the first time thatsuccess was truly looming up on the horizon of the North, andthat my dear coloured people might indeed soon be free; thatnight Mont Pilatte and I shouted together. 

There came no particular light on my own affairs all thistime. Indeed mamma began to reproach me for what she called mydisloyal and treacherous sentiments. And then, hints began tobreak out, very hard to bear, that I had indulged intraitorous alliances and was an unworthy child of my house. Itrankled in mamma's mind, that I had not only refused theconnection with one of the two powerful Southern familieswhich had sought me the preceding year; but that I had alsodiscouraged and repelled during the past winter severaladdresses which might have been made very profitable to mycountry as well as my own interests. For what had I rejectedthem all? mamma began to ask discontentedly. Papa shielded mea little; but I felt that the sky was growing dark around mewith the coming storm. 

One never knows, after all, where the first bolt will comefrom. Mine struck me all unawares, while I was looking in anopposite quarter. It is hard to write it. A day came, that Ihad a father in the morning, and at night, none. 

It was very sudden. He had been feeble, to be sure, more thanusual, for several days, but nobody apprehended anything. Towards evening he failed - suddenly; sent for me, and died inmy arms, blessing me. Yes, we had been walking the same roadtogether for some time. I was only left to go on awhile longeralone. 

But Mont Pilatte said to me that night, "There remaineth arest for the people of God. " And while the moon went down andthe stars slowly trooped over the head of the mountain, Iheard that utterance, and those words of the hymn -

"God liveth ever:"Wherefore, soul, despair thou never. "

I could go no farther. I could think no more. Kneeling at mywindow-sill, under the starry night, my soul held to those twothings and did not loose its moorings. It is a great deal, tohold fast. It was all then I could do. And even in theremembrance now of the loneliness and desolate feeling thatcame upon me at that time, there is also a strong sense of thedeep sweetness which I was conscious of, rather than able totaste, coming from those words and resting at the bottom of myheart. 

I was in some measure drawn out of myself, almost immediately, by the illness of my mother. She fell into a nervousdisordered condition, which it taxed all my powers to tend andsoothe. I think it was mental rather than bodily, in theorigin of it; but body and mind shared in the result, asusual. And when she got better and was able to sit up and evento go about again, she remained under the utmost despondency. Affairs were not looking well for the Southern struggle inAmerica; and besides the mortification of her politicalaffections, mamma was very sure that if the South could notsucceed in establishing its independence, we should as afamily be ruined. 

"We are ruined now, Daisy, " she said. "There can be nothingcoming from our Magnolia estates - and our Virginia propertyis a mere battle ground, you know; and what have we to liveupon?"

"Mamma, there will be some way, " I said. "I have not thoughtabout it. "

"No, you do not think but of your own favourite speculations. I wish with all my heart you had never taken to fanaticalways. I have no comfort in you. "

"What do you mean by fanaticism, mamma?"

"I will tell you!" replied mamma with energy. "The essence offanaticism is to have your own way. "

"I do not think, mamma, that I want to have my own way. "

"Of course, when you have it. That is what such people alwayssay. They don't want to have their own, way. I do not want tohave mine, either. "

"Is not Dr. Sandford attending to our affairs for us, mamma?"

"I do not know. Your father trusted him, unaccountably. I donot know what he is doing. "

"He will certainly do anything that can be done for us, mamma;I am persuaded of that. And he knows how. "

"Is it for your sake, Daisy?" mamma said suddenly, and with aglitter in her eye which boded confusion to the doctor. 

"I do not know, mamma, " I said quietly. "He was always verygood and very kind to me. "

"I suppose you are not quite a fool, " she said, calming down alittle. "And a Yankee doctor would hardly lose his sensesenough to fall in love with you. Though I believe the Yankeesare the most impudent nation upon the earth. I wish Butlercould be hanged! I should like to know that was done before Idie. "

I fled from this turn of the talk always. 

It was true, however brought about I do not know, that Dr. Sandford had been for some time kindly bestirring himself tolook after our interests at home, which the distressed stateof the country had of course greatly imperilled. I was notaware that papa had been at any time seriously concerned aboutthem; however, it soon appeared that mamma had reason enoughnow for being ill at ease. In the South, war and warpreparations had so far superseded the usual employments ofmen, that next to nothing could be looked for in place of theordinary large crops and ample revenues. And Melbourne hadbeen let, indeed, for a good rent; but there was some troubleabout collecting the rent; and if collected, it belonged toRansom. Ransom was in the Southern army, fighting no doubt hisbest, and mamma would not have scrupled to use his money; butDr. Sandford scrupled to send it without authority. He urgedmamma to come home, where he said she could be better takencare of than alone in distant Switzerland. He proposed thatshe should reoccupy Melbourne, and let him farm the ground forher until Ransom should be able to look after it. Mamma andAunt Gary had many talks on the subject. I said as little as Icould. 

"It is almost as bad with me, " said my aunt Gary, one of thesetimes. "Only I do not want much. "

"I _do_, " said mamma. "And if one must live as one has not beenaccustomed to live, I would rather it should be where I amunknown. "

"You are not unknown here, my dear sister!"

"Personally and socially. Not exactly. But I am historicallyunknown. "

"Historically!" echoed my aunt. 

"And living is cheaper here too. "

"But one must have _some_ money, even here, Felicia. "

"I have jewels, " said mamma. 

"Your jewels! - Daisy might have prevented all this, " saidAunt Gary, looking at me. 

"Daisy is one of those whose religion it is to pleasethemselves. "

"But, my dear, you must be married some time, " my aunt wenton, appealingly. 

"I do not think that is certain, Aunt Gary. "

"You are not waiting for Preston, are you? I hope not; for heis likely to be as poor as you are; if he gets through thebattles, poor boy!" And my aunt put her handkerchief to hereyes. 

"I am not waiting for Preston, " I said, "any more than he iswaiting for me. "

"I don't know how that is, " said my aunt. "Preston was verydependent on you, Daisy; but I don't know - since he has heardthese stories of you" -

"Daisy is nothing to Preston!" my mother broke in with somesharpness. "Tell him so, if he ever broaches the question toyou. Cut that matter short. I have other views for Daisy, whenshe returns to her duty. I believe in a religion of obedience- not in a religion of independent self-will. I wish Daisy hadbeen brought up in a convent. She would, if I had had my way. These popular religions throw over all law and order. I hatethem!"

"You see, Daisy my dear, how pleasant it would be, if youcould see things as your mother does, " my aunt remarked. 

"I am indifferent whether Daisy has my eyes or not, " saidmamma; "what I desire is, that she should have my will. "

The talks came to nothing, ended in nothing, did nothing. Myaunt Gary at the beginning of winter went back to America. Mymother did as she had proposed; sold some of her jewels, andso paid her way in Switzerland for some months longer. Butthis could not last. Dr. Sandford urged her return; she wishedalso to be nearer to Ransom; and in the spring we once moreembarked for home. 

The winter had been exceedingly sad to me. No word fromAmerica ever reached my hands to give me any comfort; and Iwas alone with my sorrow. Mamma's state of mind, too, whichwas most uncomfortable for her, was extremely trying to me;because it consisted of regrets that I could not soothe, anxieties that I was unable to allay, and reproachful wishesthat I could neither meet nor promise to meet. Constantrepinings, ceaseless irritations, purposeless discussions;they wearied my heart, but I could bring no salve nor remedyunless I would have agreed to make a marriage for money. Imissed all that had brought so much sweetness into even myParis life, with my talks with papa, and readings, andsympathy, and mutual confidence. It was a weary winter, myonly real earthly friend being Mont Pilatte. Except Mr. Dinwiddie. I had written to him and got one or two good, strong, kind, helpful answers. Ah, what a good thing a goodletter is!

So it was great relief to quit Switzerland and find myself onthe deck of the steamer, with every revolution of the paddlewheels bringing me nearer home. Nearer what had been home; allwas vague and blank in the distance now. I was sure ofnothing. Only, "The Lord is my Shepherd, " answers all that. Itcannot always stop the beating of human hearts, though; andmine beat hard sometimes, on that homeward voyage. Mamma wasvery dismal. I sat on deck as much as I could and watched thesea. It soothed me, with its living image of God's grandgovernment on earth; its ceaseless majestic flow, of which thesuccessive billows that raise their heads upon its surface arenot the interruption, but the continuation. So with our littleaffairs, so with mine. Not for nothing does any feeblest one'sfortunes rise or fall; but to work somewhat of good either tohimself or to others, and so to the whole. I was pretty quietduring the voyage, while I knew that no news could reach me; Iexpected to keep quiet; but I did not know myself. 

We had hardly entered the bay of New York, and I had begun todiscern familiar objects and to realise that I was in the sameland with Mr. Thorold again, when a tormenting anxiety tookpossession of my heart. Now that I was near him, questionscould be put off no longer. What tidings would greet me? andhow should I get any tidings at all? A fever began to runalong my veins, which I felt was not to be cured by reasoning. Yes, I was not seeking to dispose my own affairs; I was nottrying to take them into my own hands; but I craved to knowhow they stood, and what it was to which I must submit myself. I was not willing to submit to uncertainty. Yet I remembered Imust do just that. 

The vessel came to her moorings, and I sat in my muse, onlyconscious of that devouring impatience which possessed me; anddid not see Dr. Sandford till he was close by my side. Then Iwas glad; but the deck of that bustling steamer was no placeto show how glad. I stood still, with my hand in the doctor's, and felt my face growing cold. 

"Sit down!" he said, putting me back in the chair from which Ihad risen; and still keeping my hand. "How is Mrs. Randolph?"

"I suppose you know how she is, from her letters. "

"And you?" he said, with a change of tone. 

"I do not know. I shall be better, I hope. "

"You will be better, to get ashore. Will you learn yourmother's pleasure about it? and I will attend to the rest. "

I thanked him; for the tone of genuine, manly care andprotection, was in my ears for the first time in many a day. Mamma was very willing to avail herself of it too, and to mygreat pleasure received Dr. Sandford and treated him withperfect courtesy. Rooms were provided for us in one of thebest hotels, and comforts ready. The doctor saw us establishedthere, and asked what more he could do for us before he leftus to rest. He would not stay to dinner. 

"The papers, please, " said mamma. "Will you send me all thepapers. What is the news? We have heard nothing for weeks. "

"I will send you the papers. You will see the news there, "said the doctor. 

"But what is it?"

"You would not rest if I began upon the subject. It would takea good while to tell it all. "

"But what is the position of affairs?"

"Sherman is in Georgia. Grant is in Virginia. There has been, and there is, some stout fighting on hand. "

"Sherman and Grant, " said mamma. "Where are my people, doctor?"

"Opposed to them. They do not find the way exactly open, " thedoctor answered. 

"Hard fighting, you said. How did it result?"

"Nothing is decided yet - except that the Yankees can fight, "said the doctor, with a slight smile. And mamma said no more. But I took courage, and she took gloom. The papers came, abundle of them, reaching back over several dates; givingdetails of the battles of the Wilderness and of Sherman'soperations in the South. Mamma studied and studied, andinterrupted her dinner, to study. I took the sheets as theyfell from her hand and looked - for the lists of the wounded. They were long enough, but they did not hold what I waslooking for. Mamma broke out at last with an earnestexpression of thanksgiving that Sedgwick was killed. 

"Why, mamma?" I said in some horror. 

"There is one less!" she answered grimly. 

"But _one_ less makes very little difference for the cause, mamma. "

"I wish there were a dozen then, " said she. "I wish all wereshot, that have the faculty of leading this rabble of numbersand making them worth something. "

But I was getting, I, to have a little pride in Northernblood. I said nothing, of course. 

"You are just a traitor, Daisy, I believe, " said mamma. "Youread of all that is going on, and you know that Ransom andPreston Gary are in it, and you do not care; except you careon the wrong side. But I tell you this, - nothing that callsitself Yankee shall ever have anything to do with me or mineso long as I live. I will see you dead first, Daisy. "

There was no answer to be made to this either. It only sankdown into my heart; and I knew I had no help in this world. 

The question immediately pressed itself upon our attention, where would we go? Dr. Sandford proposed Melbourne; and urgedthat in the first place we should avail ourselves of thehospitalities of his sister's house in that neighbourhood, most generously tendered us, till he could be at leisure tomake arrangements at our old home. Just now he was under thenecessity of returning immediately to Washington, where he hadone or more hospitals in charge; indeed he left us that samenight of our landing; but before he went he earnestly pressedhis sister's invitation upon my mother, and promised that sosoon as the settlement of the country's difficulties shouldset him free, he would devote himself to the care of us andMelbourne till we were satisfactorily established. 

"And I am in hopes it will not be very long now, " he saidaside to me. "I think the country has got the right man atlast; and that is what we have been waiting for. Grant says hewill fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer; and Ithink the end is coming. "

Mamma would give no positive answer to the doctor's instances;she thanked him and talked round the subject, and he wasobliged to go away without any contentment of her giving. Alone with me, she spoke out: -

"I will take no Yankee civilities, Daisy. I will be under noobligation to one of them. And I could not endure to be in thehouse of one of them, if it were conferring instead ofreceiving obligation. "

"What will you do, then, mamma. "

"I will wait. You do not suppose that the South can beconquered, Daisy? The idea is absurd!"

"But, mamma? -"

"Well?"

"Why is it absurd?"

"Because they are not a people to give up. Don't you knowthat? They would die first, every man and woman of them. "

"But mamma, whatever the spirit of the people may be, numbersand means have to tell upon the question at last. "

"Numbers and means!" mamma repeated scornfully. "I tell you, Daisy, the South _cannot_ yield. And as they cannot yield, theymust sooner or later succeed. Success always comes at last tothose who cannot be conquered. "

"What is to become of us in the mean time, mamma?"

"I don't see that it signifies much, " she said, relapsing outof the fire with which the former sentences had beenpronounced. "I would like to live to see the triumph come. "

That was all I could get from mamma that evening. She lay downon a sofa and buried her face in pillows. I sat in thedarkening room and mused. The windows were open; a soft warmair blew the curtains gently in and out; from the street belowcame the murmur of business and voices and clatter of feet andsound of wheels; not with the earnestness of alarm or thedroop of depression, but ringing, sharp, clear, cheery. Thecity did not feel badly. New York had not suffered in itsfortunes or prosperity. There was many a battlefield at theSouth where the ravages of war had swept all traces and hopesof good fortunes away; never one at the North where the cornhad been blasted, or the fruits of the earth untimely ravaged, or the heart of the husbandman disappointed in his ground. Mamma's conclusions seemed to me without premise. What of myown fortunes? I thought the wind of the desert, had blown uponthem and they were dead. I remember, in the trembling of myheart as I sat and listened and mused, and thoughts trooped inand out of my head with little order or volition on my part, one word was a sort of rallying point on which they gatheredand fell back from time to time, though they started out againon fresh roamings - "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-placein all generations"! - I remember, - it seems to me now as ifit had been some time before I was born, - how the muslincurtains floated in on the evening wind, and the hum and stirof the street came up to my ear; the bustle and activity, though it was evening; and how the distant battlefields ofVirginia looked in forlorn contrast in the far distance. Yetthis was really the desert and that the populous place; forthere, somewhere, my world was. I grew very desolate as Ithought, or mused, by the window. If it had not been for thosewords of the refuge, my heart would have failed me utterly. After a long while mamma roused up and we had tea brought. 

"Has Dr. Sandford gone?" she asked. 

"He bid us good bye, mamma, you know. I suppose he took theevening train, as he said. "

"Then we shall have no more meddling. "

"He means us only kindness, I am sure, mamma. "

"I do not like kindness. I do not know what right Dr. Sandfordhas to offer me kindness. I gave him none. "

"Mamma, it seems to me that we are in a condition to receivekindness, - and be very glad of it. "

"You are poor-spirited, Daisy; you always were. You never hadany right pride of blood or of place. I think it makes nodifference to you who people are. If you had done your duty tome, we should have been in no condition now to 'receivekindness, ' as you express it. I may thank you. "

"What do you mean to do, mamma?"

"Nothing. "

"Stay here, in this hotel?"

"Yes. "

"It will be very expensive, mamma. "

"I will meet the expense. "

"But, mamma, - without funds?"

"I have a diamond necklace yet, Daisy. "

"But, mamma, when that is gone? -"

"Do you think, " she broke out with violence, "that this war isgoing to last for ever? It _cannot_ last. The Yankees will findout what they have undertaken. Lee will drive them back. Youdo not suppose _he_ can be overcome?"

"Mamma - if the others have more men and more means -"

"They are only Yankees, " - mamma said quietly, but with aconcentration of scorn impossible to give in words. 

"They know how to fight, " - I could not help saying. 

"Yes, but _we_ do not know how to be overcome! Do you think it, Daisy?"

"Mamma - there was New Orleans - and Vicksburg - andGettysburg; - and now in Virginia -"

"Yes, now; these battles; you will see how they will turn. Doyou suppose this Yankee Grant is a match for Robert E. Lee?"

It was best to drop the discussion, and I dropped it; but ithad gone too far to be forgotten. Every bit of news from thattime was a point of irritation; if good for the South, mammaasserted that I did not sympathise with it; if good for theNorth, she found that I was glad, though I tried not to showthat I was. She was irritated, and anxious, and unhappy. WhatI was, I kept to myself. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE WOUNDED

One desire possessed me, pressing before every other; it wasto see Miss Cardigan. I thought I should accomplish this verysoon after my landing. I found that I must wait for days. 

It was very hard to wait. Yet mamma needed me; she was nervousand low-spirited and unwell and lonely; she could not endureto have me long out of her sight. She never looked with favourupon any proposal of mine to go out, even for a walk; and Icould hardly get permission. I fancied that some - latent -suspicion lay beneath all this unwillingness, which did notmake it more easy to bear. But I got leave at last, oneafternoon early in June; and took my way up the gaythoroughfares of Broadway and the Avenue. 

It was June, June all over. Just like the June of four yearsago, when Dr. Sandford took me away from school to go to WestPoint; like the June of three years ago, when I had beenfinishing my school work, before I went to Washington. I was amere girl then; now, I seemed to myself at least twenty yearsolder. June sweetness was in all the air; June sunlightthrough all the streets; roses blossomed in courtyards andlooked out of windows; grass was lush and green; people werein summer dresses. I hurried along, my breath growing shorteras I went. The well-known corner of Mme. Ricard'sestablishment came into view, and bright school-days with it. Miss Cardigan's house opposite looked just as I had left it;and as I drew near I saw that this was literally so. Theflowers were blossoming in the garden plots and putting theirfaces out of window, exactly as if I had left them but a dayago. My knees trembled under me then, as I went up the stepsand rang the bell. A strange servant opened to me. I went in, to her astonishment I suppose, without asking any questions;which indeed I could not. What if a second time I should findMr. Thorold here? Such a thought crossed me as I trod thefamiliar marble floor, after the wild fashion in which ourwishes mock our reason; then it left me the next instant, inmy gladness to see through the opening door the figure of mydear old friend. Just as I had left her also. Something, inthe wreck of my world, had stood still and suffered no change. 

I went in and stood before her. She pulled off her spectacles, looked at me, changed colour and started up. I can hardly tellwhat she said. I think I was in too great a confusion for mysenses to do their office perfectly. But her warm arms wereabout me, and my head found a hiding-place on her shoulder. 

"Sit down, my lamb, my lamb!" were the first words I remember. "Janet, shut the door, and tell anybody I am busy. Sit youdown here and rest. My lamb, ye're all shaken. Daisy, my pet, where have you been?"

I sat down, and she did, but I leaned over to the arms thatstill enfolded me and laid my head on her bosom. She wassilent now for a while. And I wished she would speak, but Icould not. Her arms pressed me close in the embrace that hadso comforted my childhood. She had taken off my bonnet andkissed me and smoothed my hair; and that was all, for whatseemed a long while. 

"What is it?" she said at last. "I know you're left, mydarling. I heard of your loss, while you were so far away fromhome. One is gone from your world. "

"He was happy - he is happy, " I whispered. 

"Let us praise the Lord for that!" she said in her broadestScotch accent, which only came out in moments of feeling. 

"But he was nearly all my world, Miss Cardigan. "

"Ay, " she said. "We have but one father. And yet, no, my bairn. Ye're not left desolate. "

"I have been very near it. "

"I am glad ye are come home. "

"But I feel as if I had no home anywhere, " I said with a burstof tears which were a great mercy to me at the time. Thestricture upon my heart had like to have taken away my breath. Miss Cardigan let me weep, saying sympathy with the tendertouch of her soft hand; no otherwise. And then I could liftmyself up and face life again. 

"You have not forgotten your Lord, Daisy?" she said at length, when she saw me quiet. I looked at her and smiled my answer, though it must have been a sober smile. 

"I see, " she said; "you have not. But how was it, so far away, my bairn? Weren't you tempted?"

"No, dear Miss Cardigan. What could tempt me?"

"The world, child. Its baits of pleasure and pride and power. Did they never take hold on ye, Daisy?"

"My pleasure I had left at home, " I said. "No, that is notquite true. I had the pleasure of being with papa and mamma;and of seeing a great deal of beauty, too. And I had pleasurein Palestine, Miss Cardigan; but it was not the sort to temptme to forget anything good. "

"And pride?" said the old lady. 

"Why do you ask me?"

"You're so bonny, my darling. You ken you are; and other folksknow it. "

"Pride? Yes, it tempted me a little, " I said; "but it couldnot for long, Miss Cardigan, when I remembered. "

"Remembered? What was it you remembered?" she said verytenderly; for I believe my eyes had filled again. 

"When I remembered what I was heir to. "

"And ye didn't have your inheritance all in the future, Itrust?" said my old friend. "There's crumbs to be gotten evennow from that feast; ye didn't go starving, my bairn?"

"I hadn't much to help me, Miss Cardigan, except the Lord'swonderful world which He has made. That helped me. "

"And ye had a crumb of joy now and then?"

"I had more than crumbs sometimes, " I said, with a soberlooking back over the years. 

"And it is my own living Daisy and not an image of her? Youare not spoiled a bit, my bairn?"

"Maybe I am, " I said, smiling at her. "How do I know?"

"There's a look in your eyes which says you are not, " she saidwith a sort of long breath; "and I know not how you haveescaped it. Child! the forces which have assailed you havebeaten down many a one. It's only to be strong in the Lord, tobe sure; but we are lured away from our strength, sometimes, and then we fall; and we are lured easily. "

"Perhaps not when the battle is so very hard to fight, dearMiss Cardigan. "

"Maybe no, " she said. "But had ye never a minister to counselye or to help ye, in those parts?"

"Only when I was in Palestine; nowhere else. "

"You must have wanted it sorely. "

"Yes, but, Miss Cardigan, I had better teaching all the time. The mountains and the sun and the sky and the beauty, allseemed to repeat the Bible to me, all the time. I never sawthe top of Mont Blanc rosy in the sunset, nor the othermountains, without thinking of those words, 'Be ye perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect;' - and, 'They shallwalk with me in white. ' -"

Miss Cardigan wiped away a tear or two. 

"But you are looking very sober, my love, " she said presently, examining me. 

"I have reason, " I said. And I went on to give her in detailthe account of the past year's doings in my family, and of ourpresent position and prospects. She listened with the greatestsympathy and the most absorbed attention. The story had takena good while; it was growing late, and I rose to go. Not tillthen was her nephew alluded to. 

"I'm thinking, " then said Miss Cardigan slowly, "there's oneperson you have not asked after, who would ill like to be leftout of our mouths. "

I stood still and hesitated and I felt my face grow warm. 

"I have not heard from him, Miss Cardigan, since -"

And I did not say since when. 

"And what of it?" she asked. 

"Nothing -" I said, stammering a little, "but I wait. "

"He's waiting, poor lad, " she said. "Have ye not had lettersfrom him?"

"Never; not since that one I sent him through you. "

"He got it, however, " said Miss Cardigan; "for there was noreason whatever why he should not. Did you think, Daisy, hehad forgotten you?"

"No, Miss Cardigan; but it was told of him that - he hadforgotten me. "

"How was that done? I thought no one knew about your lovingeach other, you two children. "

"So I thought; but - why, Miss Cardigan, it was confidentlytold in Paris to my mother that he was engaged to a schoolmateof mine. "

"Did you believe it?"

"No. But I never heard from him again, and of course papa didbelieve it. How could I tell, Miss Cardigan?"

"By your faith, child. I wouldn't have Christian think youdidn't believe him, not for all the world holds. "

"I did believe him, " I said, feeling a rill of joy flowinginto some dry places in my heart and changing the wildernessthere. "But he was silent, and I waited. "

"He was not silent, I'll answer for it, " said his aunt; "butthe letters might have gone wrong, you know. That is what theyhave done, somehow. "

"What could have been the foundation of that story?" Iquestioned. 

"I just counsel ye to ask Christian, when ye see him - ifthese weary wars ever let us see him. I think he'll answerye. "

And his aunt's manner rather intimated that my answer would bedecisive. I bade her good bye, and returned along theshadowing streets with such a play of life and hope in myheart, as for the time changed it into a very garden ofdelight. I was not the same person that had walked those waysa few hours ago. 

This jubilation, however, could not quite last. I had nosooner got home, than mamma began to cast in doubts and fearsand frettings, till the play of the fountain was well nighcovered over with rubbish. Yet I could feel the waters of joystirring underneath it all; and she said, rather in adispleased manner, that my walk seemed to have done me a greatdeal of good! and inquired where I had been. I told her, ofcourse; and then had to explain how I became acquainted withMiss Cardigan; a detail which mamma heard with smalledification. Her only remark, however, made at the end, was, "I beseech you, Daisy, do not cultivate such associations!"

"She was very good to me, mamma, when I was a schoolgirl. "

"Very well, you are not a schoolgirl now. "

It followed very easily, that I could see little of my dearold friend. Mamma was suspicious of me and rarely allowed meto go I out of her sight. We abode still at the hotel, wherewe had luxurious quarters; how paid for, mamma's jewel-boxknew. It made me very uneasy to live so; for jewels, even bethey diamonds, cannot last very long after they are onceturned into gold pieces; and I knew ours went fast; butnothing could move my mother out of her pleasure. In vain Dr. Sandford wrote and remonstrated; and in vain I sometimespleaded. "The war is not going to last for ever, " she wouldcoldly reply; "you and Dr. Sandford are two fools. The South_cannot_ be conquered, Daisy. "

But I, with trembling hope, was beginning to think otherwise. 

So the days passed on, and the weeks. Mamma spent half hertime over the newspapers. I consulted them, I could not helpit, in my old fashion; and it made them gruesome things to me. But it was a necessity for me, to quiet my nerves with thecertainty that no name I loved was to be found there in thoselists of sorrow. 

And one day that certainty failed. Among the new arrivals ofwounded men just come into Washington from Virginia, I saw thename of Captain Preston Gary. 

It was late in the summer, or early in September; I forgetwhich. We were as we had been; nothing in our positionchanged. Mamma at the moment was busy over other prints, having thrown this down; and feeling my cheeks grow white as Isat there, I held the paper to shield my face and ponderedwhat I should do. The instant thought had been, "I must go tohim. " The second brought difficulties. How to meet thedifficulties, I sat thinking; that I must go to Preston Inever doubted for a moment. I sat in a maze; till anexclamation from my mother brought my paper shield down. 

"Here's a letter from the doctor, Daisy; he says your cousinis in the hospital. "

"_His_ hospital?" I asked. 

"I suppose so; he does not say that. But he says he is badlywounded. I wonder how he comes to be in Washington?"

"Taken prisoner, mamma. "

"Yes, - wounded, " mamma said bitterly. "That's the only way hecould. Dr. Sandford bids me let his mother know. She can't goto him; even if my letter could reach her in time and shecould get to Washington, which I don't believe she could; sheis too ill herself. I shall not write to her. "

"Let us go, mamma; you and I. "

"I?" said mamma. "_I_ go to that den of thieves? No; I shall notgo to Washington, unless I am dragged there. "

"But Preston, mamma; think!"

"I am tired of thinking, Daisy. There is no good in thinking. This is the work of your favourite Northern swords and guns; Ihope you enjoy it. "

"I Would like to remedy it, mamma; to do something at least. Mamma, do let us go to Preston!"

I spoke very earnestly, and I believe with tears. Mamma lookedat me. 

"Why, do you care for him?" she asked. 

"Very much!" I said weeping. 

"I did not know you had any affection for anything South, except the coloured people. "

"Mamma, let us go to Preston. He must want us so much!"

"I cannot go to Washington, Daisy. "

"Can you spare me, mamma? I will go. "

"Do you love Preston Gary?" said mamma, sitting up-right tolook at me. 

"Mamma, I always loved him. You know I did. "

"Why did you not say so before?"

"I did say so, mamma, whenever I was asked. Will you let mego? O mamma, let me go!"

"What could you do, child? he is in the hospital. "

"Mamma, he may want so many things; I know he must want somethings. "

"It is vain talking. You cannot go alone, Daisy. "

"No, ma'am; but if I could get a good safe friend to go withme?"

"I do not know such a person in this place. "

"I do, mamma, - just the person. "

"Not a fit person for you to travel with. "

"Yes, mamma, just the one; safe and wise to take care of me. And if I were once there, Dr. Sandford would do anything forme. "

Mamma pondered my words, but would not yield to them. I wepthalf the evening, I think, with a strange strain on my heartthat said I must go to Preston. Childish memories came thickabout me, and later memories; and I could not bear the idea ofhis dying, perhaps, alone in a hospital, without one near tosay a word of truth or help him in any wish or want that wentbeyond the wants of the body. Would even those be met? Mynerves were unstrung. 

"Do stop your tears, Daisy!" mamma said at length. "I can'tbear them. I never saw you do so before. "

"Mamma, I must go to Preston. "

"If you could go there properly, child, and had any one totake care of you; as it is, it is impossible. "

I half thought it was; I could not bend mamma. But while wesat there under the light of the lamp, and I was trying to dosome work, which was every now and then wetted by a drop thatwould fall, a servant brought in a note to me. It was fromMrs. Sandford, in New York, on her way to Washington to lookafter a friend of her own; and asking if in any matter shecould be of service to me or to mamma. I had got myopportunity now, and I managed to get mamma's consent. Ianswered Mrs. Sandford's note; packed up my things; and by theearly train next morning started with her for Washington. 

Mrs. Sandford was very kind, very glad to have me with her, very full of questions, of sympathy, of condolence, and ofcare; I remember all that, and how I took it at the time, feeling that Daisy and Daisy's life had changed since last Iwas under that same gentle and feeble guidance. And I rememberwhat an undertone of music ran through my heart in the thoughtthat I might perhaps hear of, or see, Mr. Thorold. Our journeywas prosperous; and the next person we saw after arriving atour rooms was Dr. Sandford. He shook hands with his sister;and then, his eye lightened and his countenance altered as heturned to the other figure in the room and saw who it was. 

"Daisy!" he exclaimed, warmly grasping my hand, - "MissRandolph! where is Mrs. Randolph, and what brings you here?"

"Why, the train, to be sure, Grant, " answered his sister-in-law. "What a man you are - for business! Do let Daisy rest andbreathe and have something to eat, before she is obliged togive an account of herself. See, we are tired to death. "

Perhaps she was, but I was not. However, the doctor and I bothyielded. Mrs. Sandford and I withdrew to change our dresses, and then we had supper; but after supper, when she was againout of the room, Dr. Sandford turned to me and took my hand. 

"I must go presently, " he said. "Now, Miss Randolph, what isit?"

I sat down and he sat down beside me, still holding my hand, on a sofa in the room. 

"Dr. Sandford, my cousin Gary is a prisoner and in thehospital. You wrote to mamma. "

"Yes. I thought his mother might like to know. "

"She is ill herself, in Georgia, and cannot come toWashington. Dr. Sandford, I want to go in and take care ofhim. "

"You!" said the doctor. But whatever he thought, hiscountenance was impenetrable. 

"You can manage that for me. "

"Can I?" said he. "But, Daisy, you do not come under theregulations. "

"That is no matter, Dr. Sandford. "

"How is it no matter?"

"Because, I know you can do what you like. You always couldmanage things for me. "

He smiled a little, but went on in an unchanged tone. 

"You are too young; and - excuse me - you have anotherdisqualification. "

"I will do just as you tell me, " I said. 

"If I let you in. "

"You will let me in. "

"I do not see that I ought. I think I ought not. "

"But you _will_, Dr. Sandford. My cousin was very dear to mewhen I was a child at Melbourne - I love him yet very much -no one would take so good care of him as I would; and it wouldbe a comfort to me for ever. Do let me go in! I have come forthat. "

"You might get sick yourself, " he said. "You do not know whatyou would be obliged to hear and see. You do not know, Daisy. "

"I am not a child now, " - I replied. 

There was more in my answer than mere words; there was more, Iknow, in my feeling; and the doctor took the force of it. Helooked very sober, though, upon my plan, which it was evidenthe did not like. 

"Does Mrs. Randolph give her consent to this proceeding?" heasked. 

"She knows I came that I might look after Preston. I did nottell her my plan any further. "

"She would not like it. "

"Mamma and I do not see things with the - same eyes, somethings, Dr. Sandford. I think I _ought_ to do it. "

"I think she is right, " he said. "You are not fit for it. Youhave no idea what you would be obliged to encounter. "

"Try me, " I said. 

"I believe you are fit for anything, " he broke out in answerto this last appeal; "and I owned myself conquered by you, Daisy, long ago. I find I have not recovered my independence. Well - you will go in. But you cannot be dressed - _so_. "

"No, I will change my dress. I will do it immediately. "

"No, not to-night!" exclaimed the doctor. "Not to-night. It isbad enough to-morrow; but I shall not take you in to-night. Rest, and sleep and be refreshed; I need not say, be strong;for that you are always. No, I will not take you with me to-night. You must wait. "

And I could do no more with him for the time. I improved theinterval, however. I sent out and got some yards of check tomake aprons; and at my aprons I sat sewing all the evening, toMrs. Sandford's disgust. 

"My dear child, what do you want of those things?" she said, looking at them and me with an inexpressible disdain of thecheck. 

"I think they will be useful, ma'am. "

"But you are not going into the hospital?"

"Yes; to-morrow morning. "

"As a visitor. But not to stay. "

"I am going to stay if I am wanted, " I said, displaying thedimensions of my apron for my own satisfaction. 

"My dear, if you stay, you will be obliged to see all mannerof horrible things. "

"They must be worse to bear than to see, Mrs. Sandford. "

"But you cannot endure to see them, Daisy; you never can. Grant will never allow it. "

I sewed in silence, thinking that Dr. Sandford would conformhis will to mine in the matter. 

"I will never forgive him if he does!" said the lady. But thatalso I thought would have to be borne. My heart was firm forwhatever lay before me. In the hospital, by Preston's side, Iwas sure my work lay; and to be there, I must have a place atother bedsides as well as his. In the morning Mrs. Sandfordrenewed her objections and remonstrances as soon as she sawher brother-in-law; and to do him justice, he looked as illpleased as she did. 

"Daisy wants to go into the hospital as a regular nurse, " shesaid. 

"It is a weakness of large-hearted women now-a-days. "

"Large-hearted! Grant, you are not going to permit such athing?"

"I am no better than other men, " said the doctor; "and have nomore defences. "

"But it is Daisy that wants the defences, " Mrs. Sandfordcried; "it is she that is running into danger. "

"She shall want no defences while she is in my hospital. "

"It is very well to say; but if you let her in there, youcannot help it. She must be in danger, of all sorts of harm. "

"If you will prevent it, Mrs. Sandford, you will lay me underobligations, " said the doctor, sitting down and looking up athis sister-in-law somewhat comically. "I am helpless, for Ihave passed my word. Daisy has the command. "

"But just look at the figure she is, in that dress! Fancy it!That is Miss Randolph. "

The doctor glanced up and down, over my dress, and his eyeturned to Mrs. Sandford with provoking unconcern. 

"But you will not let her stay there, Grant?"

The doctor looked up at me now, and I saw an answer ready onhis lips. There was but one way left for me, I thought; I donot know how I came to do it, but I was not Daisy thatmorning; or else my energies were all strung up to a state oftension that made Daisy a different person from her wont. Ilaid my hand lightly over the doctor's mouth before he couldspeak. It silenced him, as I hoped. He rose up with a lookthat showed me I had conquered, and asked if I were ready. Hemust go, he said. 

I did not keep him waiting. And once out in the street, withmy hand on his arm, I was quite Daisy again; as humble andquiet as ever in my life. I went like a child now, in myguardian's hand; through the little crowds of men collectedhere and there, past the sentinels at the hospital door, inthrough the wide, clean, quiet halls and rooms, where Dr. Sandford's authority and system made everything work, Iafterwards found, as by the perfection of machinery. Throughone ward and another at last, where the rows of beds, eachcontaining its special sufferer, the rows of faces, of variousexpression, that watched us from the beds, the attendants andnurses and the work that was going on by their hands, causedme to draw a little closer to the arm on which I leaned and tofeel yet more like a weak child. Yet even then, even at thatmoment, the woman within me began to rise and put down thefeeling of childish weakness. I began to be strong. 

Out of the wards, into his own particular room and office, comfortable enough, Dr. Sandford brought me then. He gave me achair, and poured me out a glass of wine. 

"No, thank you, " said I, smiling. "I do not need it. "

"You are pale. "

"That is womanish; but I am not weak or faint, though. "

"Do you maintain your purpose?"

"Yes, certainly. "

"You had better take off your bonnet and shawl then. You wouldfind them in the way. "

I obeyed, and went on to envelope myself in my apron. Dr. Sandford looked on grimly. Very ill pleased he was, I couldsee. But then I laid my hand on his arm and looked at him. 

"I am so much obliged to you for this, " I said earnestly. Andhis face softened. 

"I am afraid it is wrong in me, " he remarked. 

"If you thought it was, you would not do it, " I answered; "andI hope I should not ask it. I am ready now. But Dr. Sandford, I want teaching, as to what I ought to do. Who will teach me?"

"I will teach you. But you know how to give a sick man tea orsoup, I fancy, without much teaching. "

"There are other things, Dr. Sandford. "

"It will not be necessary. There are others to do the otherthings. Captain Gary has only some simple wounds to bedressed. "

"But there are others, Dr. Sandford? And I must know how to doall that the nurses do. I am not here to be in the way. I amnot going to take care of my cousin only. "

"There is enough to do, " said the doctor; "but, you will notlike it, Daisy. "

Something in his wistful look at me, something in the contrastbetween merely seeing what he was afraid I should see, and thesuffering itself which by the sufferers had to be borne, touched me keenly. My eyes filled as I looked at the doctor, but I think the purpose in my heart perhaps came out in myface; for his own suddenly changed, and with a "Come, then!" -he gave me his arm and led the way upstairs and into anothersuccession of rooms, to the ward and the room where my cousinPreston lay. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE HOSPITAL

A clean, quiet, airy room, like all the rest; like all therest filled with rows of beds, the occupants of which had comefrom the stir of the fight and the bustle of the march, to liehere and be still; from doing to suffering. How much theharder work, I thought; and if it be well done, how much thenobler. And all who know the way in which our boys did it, will bear witness to their great nobleness. Patient, andstrong, and brave, where there was no excitement to cheer, norspectators to applaud; their fortitude and their patience andtheir generous self-devotion never failed nor faltered, whenall adventitious or real helps and stimulants were withdrawn, and patriotism and bravery stood alone. 

From the turn of Dr. Sandford's head, I knew on which side Imight look to see Preston; and as we slowly passed up the longline of beds, I scanned breathlessly each face. Old and young, grim and fair, gentle and rough; it was a variety. And then Isaw, I should hardly have known it, a pale face with a darkmoustache and a thick head of dark, glossy hair, which wasluxuriant yet, although it had been cropped. His eyes wereclosed as we came up; opened as we paused by his bed-side, andopened very wide indeed as he looked from the doctor to me. 

"How do you do, this morning, Gary?" said my conductor. 

"Confoundedly -" was the somewhat careless answer, made whileexamining my face. 

"You see who has come to look after you?"

"It isn't Daisy!" he cried. 

"How do you do, Preston?" I said, taking hold of the handwhich lay upon the coverlid. He drew the hand hastily away, half raising himself on his elbow. 

"What have you come here for?" he asked. 

"I have come to take care of you. "

"_You_, " said Preston. "In this place! Where is mamma?"

"Aunt Gary is far away from here. She could not get to you. "

"But you, you were in Switzerland. "

"Not since last May. "

"Lie down, Gary, and take it quietly, " said Dr. Sandford, putting his hand on his shoulder. Preston scowled andsubmitted, without taking his eyes from my face. 

"You are not glad to see me?" I asked, feeling his manner alittle awkward. 

"Of course not. You ought not to be in this place. What haveyou got on that rig for?"

"What rig?"

"That! I suppose you don't dress so at home, do you? Youdidn't use it. Hey? what is it for?"

"It is that I may be properly dressed. Home things would beout of place here. "

"Yes; so I think, " said Preston; "and you most of all. Whereis Aunt Randolph?"

"You do not seem very grateful, Gary, " said the doctor, whoall this while stood by with an impenetrable countenance. 

"Grateful - for what?"

"For your cousin's affection and kindness, which has come hereto look after you. "

"I am not grateful, " said Preston. "I shall not have herstay. "

"What has brought _you_ here, Preston?" I asked by way ofdiversion. 

"Me? Powder. It's an infernal invention. If one could fightwith steel, there would be some fun in it. But powder has norespect of persons. "

"How has it hurt you?" I asked. I had somehow never chosen toput the question to Dr. Sandford; I can hardly tell why. Nowit was time to know. Preston's eye fell on me with suddengentleness. 

"Daisy, go away, " he said. "You have no business here. It isof all places no place for you. Go away, and don't comeagain. "

"Dr. Sandford, " said I, "will you take me with you and give memy lesson? That is the first thing. I must earn my right tothe place, it seems. "

The doctor looked at me in his turn; I avoided the eye ofPreston. He looked at me in a way not hard to read; quiteagreeing with Preston in wishing me away, but, I saw also, respecting my qualifications for the work I had come to do. Isaw that he gave me a great reverence on account of it; butthen, Dr. Sandford always gave me more reverence than belongedto me. I made use of this, and held my advantage. And thedoctor seeing that I was calmly in earnest, even took me at myword. 

We began a progress through the ward; during which every man'scondition was inquired into; wounds examined and dressed; andcourse of treatment prescribed. I looked on at first as a merespectator; bearing the revelation of pain and suffering withall the fortitude I could muster; but I found in a littlewhile that it would overmaster me if I continued an idlelooker-on; and putting aside the attendant nurse at last witha whisper to which she yielded, I offered myself quietly inher place to do her work. Dr. Sandford glanced at me then, butmade no remark whatever; suffering me to do my pleasure, andemploying me as if I had been there for a month. He began togive me directions too. It seemed a long age of feeling andexperience, the time while we were passing through the ward;yet Dr. Sandford was extremely quick and quiet in his work, and lost no seconds by unnecessary delay. Even I could seethat. He was kind, too; never harsh, though very firm in hisauthority and thorough in his business. I could not help anunconscious admiration for him growing as we went on. Thatsteady, strong blue eye; what a thing it was for doubt andfear to rest on. I saw how doubt and fear rested. I thought Idid; though the bearing of all the sufferers there was calmand self-contained to an admirable degree. It was so, I heard, with all our soldiers everywhere. 

We came round, last of all, to Preston's couch again; and thedoctor paused. He glanced at me again for the first time in along while. I do not know how I trembled inwardly; outwardly, I am sure, I did not flinch. His eye went to Preston. 

"Do you see, you are to have a better nurse than you deserve?"he said. 

"It is disgusting!" Preston muttered. 

"Some things are, " answered the doctor; "not a brave woman, ora gentle man. "

"Send Daisy away from this place. You know she ought not to behere; and you can forbid it. "

"You overstate my power, my friend, " said the doctor. "Shallwe see how you are getting along to-day. "

Preston's eye came to me again, silently, with reluctance andregret in it. I was touched more than I chose to show, andmore than it was safe to think about. "

"Does she know?" he asked. 

"She does not know. Your cousin, Miss Randolph, has given oneof his arms for his cherished cause. "

"And one of my legs too, " said Preston. "If it would do thecause any good, I would not care; but what good does it do?That's what I don't like about powder. "

I had much ado to stand this communication. The work ofexamining and dressing Preston's wounds, however, immediatelybegan; and in the effort to do my part, as usual, I found thebest relief for overstrained nerves. I think some tears fellupon the bandages; but no word of remark was made by eitherphysician or patient, till the whole business was concluded. Dr. Sandford then carried me off to a nice, warm, comfortableapartment, which he told me I might always hold as my ownwhenever I had time to be there; he seated me in a chair, anda second time poured me out a glass of wine, which he tookfrom a cupboard. 

"I do not drink it, " I said, shaking my head. 

"Yes, you do, - to-day. "

"I never drink it, " I said. "I cannot touch it, Dr. Sandford. "

"You must take something. What is the matter with the wine? Isit disagreeable to you?"

"I will not help anybody else drink it, " I said, looking athim and forcing a smile; for I was tired and very sick atheart. 

"Nobody will know you take it. "

"Not if I do not take it. They will if I do. "

"Are you going upon that old childish plan of yours?" said thedoctor, sitting down beside me and looking with a wistful kindof tenderness into my face. "Are you bent still upon livingfor other people, Daisy?"

"You know, the Master I follow did so; and His servants mustbe like him, " I said, and I felt my smile was stronger andbrighter this time. Dr. Sandford arose, summoned an attendantand sent him off for a cup of tea for me; then saw me take it. 

"Now, " said he, "are you fixed in the plan of devotingyourself to the care of this ungracious cousin?"

"Of him, and of others, " I said. 

"He does not deserve it. "

"Suppose we waited to give people their deserts, Dr. Sandford?"

"Some people deserve to be allowed to take care of you, " saidthe doctor, getting up and beginning to pace up and down thefloor. "They deserve it; and find it hard work; or denied themaltogether. "

"You do take care of me, " I said gratefully. "You always did, Dr. Sandford. You are doing it now; and I am thanking you allthe time in my heart. "

"Well, " said he abruptly, standing still before me, - "you areone of those who are born to command; and in your case Ialways find I have to obey. This room you will use as youplease; no one will share it with you; and you need aretiring-place for a breath of rest when you can get it. Ishall see you constantly, as I am going out and in; andanything you want you will tell me. But you will not like it, Daisy. You can stand the sight of blood, like other women, whose tenderness makes them strong; but you will not like someother things. You will not like the way you will have to takeyour meals in this place. "

I had finished my cup of tea, and now stood up to let thedoctor take me back to my place beside Preston; which he didwithout any more words. And there he left me; and I sat downto consider my work and my surroundings. My cousin hadforgotten his impatience in sleep; and there was a sort oflull in the business of the ward at that hour. 

I found in a few minutes that it was a great comfort to me tobe there. Not since papa's death, had so peaceful a sense offull hands and earnest living crept into my heart. My thoughtsflew once or twice to Mr. Thorold, but I called them back assoon; I could not bear that; while at the same time I felt Iwas nearer to him here than anywhere else. And my thoughtswere very soon called effectually home from my own specialconcerns, by seeing that the tenant of one of the neighbouringbeds was restless and suffering from fever. A strong, fine-looking man, flushed and nervous on a fever bed, in helplessinactivity, with the contrast of life energies all at work andeffectively used only a little while ago, in the camp and thebattlefield. Now lying here. His fever proceeded from hiswounds, I knew, for I had seen them dressed. I went to him andlaid my hand on his forehead. I wonder what and how much therecan be in the touch of a hand. It quieted him, like a charm;and after a while, a fan and a word or two now and then wereenough for his comfort. I did not seem to be Daisy Randolph; Iwas just - the hospital nurse; and my use was to minister; andthe joy of ministering was very great. 

From my fever patient I was called to others, who wanted manyvarious things; it was a good while before I got round toPreston again. Meanwhile, I was secretly glad to find out thatI was gaining fast ground in the heart of the other nurse ofthe ward, who had at first looked upon me with great doubt andmistrust on account of my age and appearance. She was aclever, energetic New England woman; efficient and helpful asit was possible to be; thin and wiry, but quiet, and full ofsense and kindliness. With a consciousness of her growingfavour upon me, I came at last to Preston's bedside again. Helooked anything but amicable. 

"Where is Aunt Randolph?" were his first words, uttered withvery much the manner of a growl. I replied that I had left herin New York. 

"I shall write to her, " said Preston. "How came she to dosuch an absurd thing as to let you come here? and whom did youcome with? Did you come alone?"

"Not at all. I came with proper company. "

"Proper company wouldn't have brought you, " Preston growled. 

"I think you want something to eat, Preston, " I said. "Youwill feel better when you have had some refreshment. "

It was just the time for a meal and I saw the supplies comingin. And Preston's refreshment, as well as that of some others, I attended to myself. I think he found it pleasant; foralthough some growls waited upon me even in the course of myministering to him, I heard from that time no moreremonstrances; and I am sure Preston never wrote his letter. Atestimonial of a different sort was conveyed in his whisperedrequest to me, not to let that horrid Yankee spinster comenear him again. 

But Miss Yates was a good friend to me. 

"You are looking a little pale, " she said to me at evening. "Go and lie down a spell. All's done up; you ain't wanted now, and you may be, for anything anybody can tell, before an houris gone. Just you go away and get some rest. It's been yourfirst day. And the first day's rather tough. "

I told her I did not feel tired. But she insisted; and Iyielded so far as to go and lie down for a while in the roomwhich Dr. Sandford had given to me. When I came back, I metMiss Yates near the door of the room. I asked her if therewere any serious cases in the ward just then. 

"La! half of 'em's serious, " said she; "if you mean by thatthey might take a wrong turn and go off. You never can tell. "

"But are there any in immediate danger, do you think?"

She searched my face before she answered. 

"How come you to be so strong, and so young, and so - well, sounlike all this sort of thing? - Have you ever, no you neverhave, seen much of sickness and death, and that?"

"No; not much. "

"But you look as calm as a field of white clover. I beg yourpardon, my dear; it's like you. And you ain't one of the Indiarubber sort, neither. I am glad you ain't, too; I don't thinkthat sort is fit to be nurses or anything else. "

She looked at me inquiringly. 

"Miss Yates, " I said, "I love Jesus. I am a servant of Christ. I like to do whatever my Lord gives me to do. "

"Oh!" said she. "Well I ain't. I sometimes wish I was. But itcomes handy now, for there's a man down there - he ain't agoing to live, and he knows it, and he's kind o' worried aboutit; and I can't say nothing to him. Maybe you can. I'vewritten his letters for him, and all that; but he's justuneasy. "

I asked, and she told me, which bed held this sick man, whowould soon be a dying one. I walked slowly down the ward, thinking of this new burden of life-work that was laid upon meand how to meet it. My very heart sank. I was so helpless. Androse too; for I remembered that our Redeemer is strong. Whatcould I do?

I stood by the man's side. He was thirsty and I gave himlemonade. His eye met mine as his lips left the cup; an eye ofunrest. 

"Are you comfortable?" I asked. 

"As much as I can be. " - It was a restless answer. 

"Can't you think of Jesus, and rest?" I asked, bending overhim. His eye darted to mine with a strange expression ofinquiry and pain; but it was all the answer he made. 

"There is rest at His feet for all who trust in Him; - rest inHis arms for all who love Him. "

"I am not the one or the other, " he said shortly. 

"But you may be. "

"I reckon not, - at this time of day, " he said. 

"Any time of day will do, " I said tenderly. 

"I guess not, " said he. "One cannot do anything lying here -and I sha'n't lie here much longer, either. There's no timenow to do anything. "

"There is nothing to do, dear friend, but to give your heartand trust to the Lord who died for you - who loves you - whoinvites you - who will wash away your sins for His own sake, in His own blood, which He shed for you. Jesus has died foryou; you shall not die, if you will put your trust in Him. "

He looked at me, turned his head away restlessly, turned itback again, and said, -

"That won't do. "

"Why?"

"I don't believe in wicked people going to heaven. "

"Jesus came to save wicked people; just them. "

"They've got to be good, though, before they" - he paused, -"go - to His place. "

"Jesus will make you good, if you will let him. "

"What chance is there, lying here; and only a few minutes atthat?"

He spoke almost bitterly, but I saw the drops of sweatstanding on his brow, brought there by the intensity offeeling. I felt as if my heart would have broken. 

"As much chance here as anywhere, " I answered calmly. "Theheart is the place for reform; outward work, without theheart, signifies nothing at all; and if the heart of love andobedience is in any man, God knows that the life would follow, if there were opportunity. "

"Yes. I haven't it, " he said, looking at me. 

"You may have it. "

"I tell you, you are talking - you don't know of what, " hesaid vehemently. 

"I know all about it, " I answered softly. 

"There is no love nor obedience in me, " he repeated, searchingmy eyes, as if to see whether there were anything to be saidto that. 

"No; you are sick at heart, and dying, unless you can becured. Can you trust Jesus to cure you? They that be wholeneed not a physician, He says, but those that are sick. "

He was silent, gazing at me. 

"Can you lay your heart, just as it is, at Jesus' feet, andask him to take it and make it right? He says, Come. "

"What must _I_ do?"

"Trust Him. "

"But you are mistaken, " he said. "I am not good. "

"No, " said I; and then I know I could not keep back the tearsfrom springing; - "Jesus did not come to save the good. Hecame to save you. He bids you trust Him, and your sins shallbe forgiven, for He gave His life for yours; and He bids youcome to Him, and He will take all that is wrong away, and makeyou clean. "

"Come?" - the sick man repeated. 

"With your heart - to his feet. Give yourself to Him. He ishere, though you do not see Him. "

The man shut his eyes, with a weary sort of expressionoverspreading his features; and remained silent. After alittle while he said slowly -

"I think - I have heard - such things - once. It is a greatwhile ago. I don't think I know - what it means. "

Yet the face looked weary and worn; and for me, I stood besidehim and my tears dripped like a summer shower. Like the firstof the shower, as somebody says; the pressure at my heart wastoo great to let them flow. O life, and death! O message ofmercy, and deaf ears! O open door of salvation, and feet thatstumble at the threshold! After a time his eyes opened. 

"What are you doing there?" he said vaguely. 

"I am praying for you, dear friend. "

"Praying?" said he. "Pray so that I can hear you. "

I was well startled at this. I had prayed with papa; with noother, and before no other, in all my life. And here were rowsof beds on all sides of me, wide-awake careless eyes in someof their occupants; nurses and attendants moving about; noprivacy; no absolute stillness. I thought I could not; then Iknew I must; and then all other things faded intoinsignificance before the work Jesus came to do and had givenme to help. I knelt down, not without hands and face growingcold in the effort; but as soon as I was once fairly speakingto my Lord, I ceased to think or care who else was listeningto me. There was a deep stillness around; I knew that; theattendants paused in their movements, and words and work Ithink were suspended during the few minutes when I was on myknees. When I got up, the sick man's eyes were closed. I satdown with my face in my hands, feeling as if I had received agreat wrench; but presently Miss Yates came with a whisperedrequest that I would do something that was required just thenfor somebody. Work set me all right very soon. But when aftera while I came round to Preston again, I found him in a rage. 

"What _has_ come over you?" he said, looking at me with acomplication of frowns. I was at a loss for the reason, andrequested him to explain himself. 

"You are not Daisy!" he said. "I do not know you any more. What has happened to you?"

"What do you mean, Preston?"

"Mean!" said he with a fling. "What do _you_ mean? I don't knowyou. "

I thought this paroxysm might as well pass off by itself, likeanother; and I kept quiet. 

"What were you doing just now, " said he savagely, "by thatsoldier's bedside?"

"That soldier? He is a dying man, Preston. "

"Let him die!" he cried. "What is that to you? You are DaisyRandolph. Do you remember whose daughter you are? _You_ making aspectacle of yourself, for a hundred to look at!"

But this shot quite overreached its mark. Preston saw it hadnot touched me. 

"You did not use to be so bold, " he began again. "You weredelicate to an exquisite fault. I would never have believedthat _you_ would have done anything unwomanly. What has takenpossession of you?"

"I should like to take possession of you just now, Preston, and keep you quiet, " I said. "Look here, - your tea is coming. Suppose you wait till you understand things a little better;and now - let me give you this. I am sure Dr. Sandford wouldbid you be quiet; and in his name, I do. "

Preston fumed; but I managed to stop his mouth; and then Ileft him, to attend to other people. But when all was done, and the ward was quiet, I stood at the foot of the dying man'sbed, thinking, what could I do more for him? His face lookedweary and anxious; his eye rested, I saw, on me, but withoutcomfort in it. What could I say, that I had not said? or howcould I reach him? Then, I do not know how the thought struckme, but I knew what to do. 

"My dear, " said Miss Yates, touching my shoulder, "hadn't youbetter give up for to-night? You are a young hand; you ain'tseasoned to it yet; you'll give out if you don't look sharp. Suppose you quit for to- night. "

"O no!" I said hastily - "Oh no, I cannot. I cannot. "

"Well, sit down, any way, before you can't stand. It is justas cheap sittin' as standin'. "

I sat down; she passed on her way; the place was quiet; onlythere were uneasy breaths that came and went near me. Then Iopened my mouth and sang -

"There is a fountain filled with blood, "Drawn from Immanuel's veins;"And sinners plunged beneath that flood, "Lose all their guilty stains. "

"The dying thief rejoiced to see"That fountain in his day;"And there may I, as vile as he, "Wash all my sins away. "

I sang it to a sweet simple air, in which the last lines arerepeated and repeated and drawn out in all their sweetness. The ward was as still as death. I never felt such joy that Icould sing; for I knew the words went to the furthest cornerand distinctly, though I was not raising my voice beyond avery soft pitch. The stillness lasted after I stopped; thensome one near spoke out -

"Oh, go on!"

And I thought the silence asked me. But what to sing? that wasthe difficulty. It had need be something so very simple in thewording, so very comprehensive in the sense; something to tellthe truth, and to tell it quick, and the whole truth; whatshould it be? Hymns came up to me, loved and sweet, but toopartial in their application, or presupposing too muchknowledge of religious things. My mind wandered; and then of asudden floated to me the refrain that I had heard and learnedwhen a child, long ago, from the lips of Mr. Dinwiddie, in thelittle chapel at Melbourne; and with all the tenderness of theold time and the new it sprung from my heart and lips now -

"In evil long I took delight, "Unawed by shame or fear;"Till a new object struck my sight, "And stopped my wild career. "

"O the Lamb - the loving Lamb!"The Lamb on Calvary"The Lamb that was slain, but lives again, "To intercede for me. "

How grand it was! But for the grandeur and the sweetness ofthe message I was bringing, I should have broken down a scoreof times. 

As it was, I poured my tears into my song, and wept them intothe melody. But other tears, I knew, were not so contained; inintervals I heard low sobbing in more than one part of theroom. I had no time to sing another hymn before Dr. Sandfordcame in. I was very glad he had not been five minutes earlier. 

I followed him round the ward, seeking to acquaint myself asfast as possible with whatever might help to make me usefulthere. Dr. Sandford attended only to business and not to me, till the whole round was gone through. Then he said, -

"You will let me take you home now, I hope. "

"I am at home, " I answered. 

"Even so, " said he smiling. "You will let me take you _from_home then, to the place my sister dwells in. "

"No, Dr. Sandford; and you do not expect it. "

"I have some reason to know what to expect, by this time. Willyou not do it at my earnest request? not for your sake, butfor mine? There is presumption for you!"

"No, Dr. Sandford; it is not presumption, and I thank you; butI cannot. I cannot, Dr. Sandford. I am wanted here. "

"Yes, so you will be to-morrow. "

"I will be here to-morrow. "

"But, Daisy, this is unaccustomed work; and you cannot bearit, no one can, without intermission. Let me take you to thehotel to-night. You shall come again in the morning. "

"I cannot. There is some one here who wants me. "

"Your cousin, do you mean?"

"Oh no. Not he at all. There is one who is, I am afraid, dying. "

"Morton, " said the doctor. "Yes. You can do nothing for him. "

But I thought of my hymn, and the tears rose to my eyes. 

"I will do what I can, Dr. Sandford. I cannot leave him. "

"There is a night nurse who will take charge. You must notwatch. You must not do that, Daisy. I command here. "

"All but me, " I said, putting my hand on his arm. "Trust me. Iwill try to do just the right thing. "

There must have been more persuasion in my look than I knew;for Dr. Sandford quitted me without another word, and left meto my own will. I went softly down the room to the poor friendI was watching over. I found his eyes watching me; but fortalk there was no time just then; some services were calledfor in another part of the ward that drew me away from him;and when I came back he seemed to be asleep. I sat down at thebed foot and thought my hymn all over, then the war, my ownlife, and lastly the world. Miss Yates came to me and bentdown. 

"Are you tired out, dear?"

"Not at all, " I said. "Not at all - tired. "

"They'd give their eyes if you'd sing again. It's better thandoctors and anodynes; and it's the first bit of anythingunearthly we've had in this place. Will you try?"

I was only too glad. I sang, "Jesus, lover of my soul" - "Rockof Ages" - and then, -

"Just as I am, without one plea, "But that Thy blood was shed for me, "And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, "O Lamb of God, I come. "

And stillness, deep and peaceful seeming, brooded over all theplace in the pauses between the singing. There were restlessand weary and suffering people around me; patient indeed too, and uncomplaining, in the worst of times; but now even sighsseemed to be hushed. I looked at the man who was said to bedying. His wide open eyes were intently fixed upon me; veryintently; and I thought, less ruefully than a while ago. ThenI sang, -

"Come to Jesus just now -"

As I sang, a voice from the further end of the room took itup, and bore me company in a somewhat rough but true and manlychorus, to the end of the singing. It rang sweet round theroom; it fell sweet on many ears, I know. And so I gave myLord's message. 

I sang no more that night. The poor man for whose sake I hadbegun the singing, rapidly grew worse. I could not leave him;for ever and again, in the pauses of suffering, his eyessought mine. I answered the mute appeal as I best could, witha word now and a word then. Towards morning the struggleceased. He spoke no more to me; but the last look was to myeyes, and in his, it seemed to me, the shadow had clearedaway. That was all I could know. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

ORDERS

I slept longer than I had meant to do, the next morning; but Irose with a happy feeling of being in my place; where I wantedto be. That is, to be sure, not always the criterion by whichto know the place where one ought to be; yet where it is aqualification it is also in some sense a token. The ministryof the hours preceding swept over me while I was dressing, with something of the grand swell and cadence of the notes ofa great organ; grand and solemn and sweet. I entered the ward, ready for the day's work, with a glad readiness. 

So I felt, as I stepped in and went down the space between therows of beds. Miss Yates nodded to me. 

"Here you are!" she said. "Fresh as the morning. Well I don'tknow why we shouldn't have pleasant things in such a place asthis, if we can get them; there's enough that ain't pleasant, and folks forget there is anything else in the world. Nowyou'll be better than breakfast, to some of them; and here'sbreakfast, my dear. You know how to manage that. "

I knew very well how to manage that; and I knew too, as I wenton with my ministrations, that Miss Yates was not altogetherwrong. My ministry did give pleasure; and I could not helpenjoying the knowledge. This was not the enjoyment offlattering crowds, waiting round me with homage in their eyesand on their tongues. I had known that too, and felt thefoolish flutter of gratified vanity for a moment, to beashamed of it the next. This was the brightening eye, therelaxing lip, the tone of gratification, from those whose daysand hours were a weary struggle with pain and disease; tobring a moment's refreshment to them was a great joy, whichgives me no shame now in the remembrance. Even if it was onlythe refreshment of memory and fancy, that was something; and Igave thanks in my heart, as I went from one sufferer toanother, that I had been made pleasant to look at. Prestonhimself smiled at me this morning, which I thought a greatgain. 

"Well, you do know how to sing!" he said softly, as I wasgiving him his tea and toast. 

"I am glad you think so. "

"Think so! Why, Daisy, positively I was inclined to blessgunpowder for the minute, for having brought me here. Now ifyou would only sing something else - Don't you know anythingfrom Norma, or II Trovatore?"

"They would be rather out of place here. "

"Not a bit of it. Create a soul under the ribs - Well, this isvile tea. "

"Hush, Preston; you know the tea is good, like everything elsehere. "

"I know no such thing. There is nothing good in this place, -except you, - and I suppose that is the reason you have chosenit for your abode. I can't imagine how Aunt Randolph came tolet you, though. "

"She let me come to take care of you. "

"_I_'m not worth it. What's a man good for, when there is onlyhalf of him left? I should like just to get into one otherfield, and let powder take the other half. "

"Hush, Preston! hush; you must not talk so. There's yourmother. "

"My mother won't think much of me now, I don't know why sheshould. You never did, even when I was myself. "

"I think just as much of you now as ever, Preston. You mightbe much more than your old self, if you would. "

Preston frowned and rolled his head over on the pillow. 

"Confounded!" he muttered. "To be in such a den of Yankees!"

"You are ungrateful. "

"I am not. I owe it to Yankee powder. "

What, perhaps, had Southern powder done? I shivered inwardly, and for a moment forgot Preston. 

"What is the matter?" said he. "You look queer; and it is veryqueer of you to spill my tea. "

"Drink it then, " I said, "and don't talk in such a way. I willnot have you do it, Preston, to me. "

He glanced at me, a little wickedly; but he had finished hisbreakfast and I turned from him. As I turned, I saw that thebed opposite, where Morton had died a few hours before, hadalready received another occupant. It startled me a little;this quick transition; this sudden total passing away; then, as I cast another glance at the newly come, my breath stoodstill. I saw eyes watching me, - I had never but once knownsuch eyes; I saw an embrowned but very familiar face; as Ilooked, I saw a flash of light come into the eyes, quick andbrilliant as I had seen such flashes come and go a hundredtimes. I knew what I saw. 

It seems to me now in the retrospect, it seemed to me then, asif my life - that which makes life - were that moment suddenlygathered up, held before me, and then dashed under my feet;thrown down to the ground and trampled on. For a moment thesight of my eyes failed me. I think nobody noticed it. I thinknothing was to be seen, except that I stood still for thatminute. It passed, and my sight returned; and as one whoselife is under foot and who knows it will never rise again, Icrossed the floor to Thorold. We were not alone. Eyes and earswere all around us. Remembering this, I put my hand in his andsaid a simple -

"How do you do?"

But his look at me was so infinitely glad and sweet, that mysenses failed me again. I did not sink down; but I stoodwithout sight or hearing. The clasp of his hand recalled me. 

"It is Daisy!" he said smiling. "Daisy, and not a vision. MyDaisy! How is it?"

"What can I do for you?" I said hastily. 

"Nothing. Stand there. I have been looking at you; and thoughtit was long till you would look at me. "

"I was busy. "

"Yes, I know, love. How is it, Daisy? When did you come backfrom Switzerland?"

"Months ago. "

"I did not know of it. "

"Letters failed, I suppose. "

"Then you wrote?"

"I wrote, - with papa's letter. "

"When?"

"Oh, long ago - long ago; - I don't know, - a year or two. "

"It never reached me, " he said, a shadow crossing his brightbrow. 

"I sent it to your aunt, for her to send it to you; and shesent it; I asked her. "

"Failed, " he said. "What was it, Daisy?"

The question was put eagerly. 

"Papa was very good, " I said; - "and you were very right, Christian, and I was wrong. He liked your letter. "

"And I should have liked his?" he said, with one of thosebrilliant illuminations of eye and face. 

"I think you would. "

"Then I have got all I can ask for, " he said. "You are mine;and while we live in this world we belong to each other. Is itnot so?"

There was mamma. But I could not speak of her. Even she couldnot prevent the truth of what Christian said; in one way itmust be true. I gave no denial. Thorold clasped my hand veryfast, and I stood breathless. Then suddenly I asked if he hadhad his breakfast? He laughed and said yes, and still claspedmy hand in a grasp that said it was better than food and drinkto him. I stood like one from under whose feet the ground isslipping away. I longed to know, but dared not ask, what hadbrought him there; whether he was suffering; the words wouldnot come to my lips. I knew Dr. Sandford would be here by andby; how should I bear it? But I, and nobody but me, must doall that was done for this sufferer at least. 

I left Mr. Thorold, to attend to duties that called me on allhands. I did them like one in a dream. Yet my ordinary mannerwas quiet, and I suppose nobody saw any difference; only Ifelt it. I was looking all the time for the moment of Dr. Sandford's appearance, and praying for strength. It came, hisvisit, as everything does come, when its time was; and Ifollowed him in his round; waiting and helping as there waswant of me. I did it coolly, I know, with faculties sharpenedby an intense motive and feelings engrossed with one thought. I proved myself a good assistant; I knew Dr. Sandford approvedof me; I triumphed, so far, in the consciousness that I hadmade good my claim to my position, and was in no danger ofbeing shoved away on the score of incompetency. 

"Doctor, " said Preston when we came round to him, "won't yousend away Miss Randolph out of a place that she is not fitfor?"

"I will, " said Dr. Sandford grimly, "when I find such aplace. "

"Out of _this_ place, then, where she ought not to be; and youknow it. "

"It would be your loss, my friend. You are exercising greatself-denial, or else you speak in ignorance. "

"She might as well go on the stage at once!" said Prestonbitterly. "Singing half the night to sixty soldiers, - andwon't give one a thing from Norma, then!"

The doctor gave one quick glance of his blue eye at me; it wasa glance inquiring, recognising, touched, sympathising, all inan instant; it surprised me. Then it went coolly back to hiswork. 

"What does she sing?"

"Psalms" - said Preston. 

"Feverish tendency?" said the doctor. 

Preston flung himself to one side, with a violent word, almostan oath, that shocked me. We left him and went on. 

Or rather, went over; for at the instant Dr. Sandford's eyecaught the new occupant of the opposite bed. I was glad tofind that he did not recognise him. 

The examination of Mr. Thorold's wounds followed. They wereinternal, and had been neglected. I do not know how I wentthrough it; seeing how he went through it partly helped me, for I thought he did not seem to suffer greatly. His face wasentirely calm, and his eye clear whenever it could catch mine. But the operation was long; and I felt when it was over as ifI had been through a battle myself. I was forced to leave himand go on with my attentions to the other sufferers in theward; and I could not get back to Mr. Thorold till the dinnerhour. I managed to be at his side to serve him then. But hehad the use of his arms and hands and did not need feeding, like some of the others. 

"It is worth being here, Daisy, " said Mr. Thorold, when I camewith his dinner; which was, however, a light one. 

"No, " said I. Speaking in low tones, which I was accustomed touse to all there, we were in little danger of being overheard. 

"Not to you, " said he with a laughing flash of his eye; "Ionly spoke of my own sense of things. That is as I tell you. "

"How do you do now?" I asked tremblingly. 

His eye changed, softened, lifted itself to mine with abeautiful glow in it. I half knew what was coming before hespoke. 

"We know in whose hands I am, " he said. "I have earned the'right to my name, ' Daisy. "

Ah, that was hard to bear! harder than the surgeon's probewhich had gone before. It was hard at the same time not tofall on my knees to give thanks; or to break out into a shoutof glad praise. I suppose I showed nothing of it, only stoodstill - and pale by the side of the bed; till Mr. Thoroldasked me for something, and I knew that I had been neglectinghis dinner. And then I knew that I was neglecting others; andflew across to Preston, who needed my services. 

"Who's that over yonder, " he grumbled. 

"One newly come in - wounded, " I replied. 

"Isn't it somebody you know?"

"It is one I used to know. "

"Then you know him yet, I suppose. It is that fellow Thorold, isn't it?"

"Yes. "

"What has brought him here?"

"He is wounded, " I whispered. 

"I am glad of it!" said Preston, savagely. "Why shouldn't hebe wounded, when his betters are? Is he badly off?"

I simply could not answer at the minute. 

"How's he wounded?"

"I do not know. "

"You don't know! when you were attending to him. Then hehasn't lost a leg or an arm, I suppose? You would know that. "

"No. "

"D-n him!" said Preston. "That _he_ should be whole and soundand only half of me left!"

I was dumb, for want of the power to speak. I think such apassion of indignation and displeasure never found place in myheart, before or since. But I did not wish to say anythingangrily, and yet my heart was full of violent feeling thatcould find but violent words. I fed Preston in silence tillhis dinner was done, and left him. Then as I passed near himagain soon after, I stopped. 

"You are so far from sound, Preston, " I said, "that I shallkeep out of the way of your words. You must excuse me - but Icannot hear or allow them; and as you have no control overyourself, my only resource is to keep at a distance. "

I waited for no answer but moved away; and busied myself withall the ward rather than him. It was a hard, hard, afternoon'swork; my heart divided between the temptation to violent angerand violent tears. I kept away from Mr. Thorold too, partlyfrom policy, and partly because I could not command myself, Iwas afraid, in his presence. But towards evening I foundmyself by his side, and in the dusk our hands met; while Iused a fan with the other hand, by way of seeming to dosomething for him. 

"What is the matter?" he whispered. 

"Matter?" I repeated. 

"Yes. "

"There is enough the matter here always, Christian. "

"Yes. And what more than usual this afternoon?"

"What makes you ask?"

"I have been looking at you. "

"And what did you see?"

"I saw that you were hiding something, from everybody but me. Tell it now. "

"Christian, it was not anything good. "

"Confess your faults one to another, then, " said he. "What isthe use of having friends?"

"You would not be pleased to hear of my faults. "

I could see, even in the dim light, the flash of his eye as itlooked into mine. 

"How many, Daisy?"

"Anger, " I said; - "and resentment; and - self-will. "

"What raised the anger?" said he; a different tone coming intohis own voice. 

"Preston. His way of talking. "

"About me?"

"Yes. I cannot get over it. "

And I thought I should have broken down at that minute. Myfan-play ceased. Christian held my hand very fast, and after afew minutes began again -

"Does he know you are angry, Daisy?"

"Yes, he does; for I told him as much. "

"Did you tell him sharply?"

"No. I told him coldly. "

"Go over and say that you have forgiven him. "

"But I have not forgiven him. "

"You know you must. "

"I cannot, just yet, Christian. To-morrow, perhaps I can. "

"You must do it to-night, Daisy. You do not know what else youmay have to do before to-morrow, that you will want the spiritof love for. "

I was silent a little, for I knew that was true. 

"Well? -" said he. 

"What can I do?" I said. "I suppose it will wear out; but justnow I have great displeasure against Preston. I cannot tellhim I forgive him. I have not forgiven him. "

"And do not want to forgive him?"

I was again silent, for the answer would have had to be anaffirmative. 

"If I could reach you, I would kiss that away, " said Thorold. "Daisy, must _I_ tell _you_, that there is One who can look itaway? You need not wait. "

I knew he spoke truth again; and I had forgotten it. Truththat once by experience I so well knew. I stood silent andself-condemned. 

"Christian, I do not very often get angry; but when I do, I amafraid the feeling is very obstinate. "

"The case isn't desperate - unless you are obstinate too, " hesaid, with a look which conquered me. I fanned him a littlewhile longer; not long. For I was able very soon to go acrossto Preston. 

"Are you going to desert me for that fellow?" he growled. 

"I must desert you, for whoever wants me more than you do; andyou must be willing that I should. "

"If it wasn't for confounded Yankees!" he said. 

"Yankees are pretty good to you, Preston, I think, just now. What if they were to desert you? Where is your generosity?"

"Shot away. Come, Daisy, I had no business to speak as I did. I'll confess it. Forgive me, won't you?"

"Entirely, " I said. "But you gave me great pain, Preston. "

"You are like the thinnest description of glass manufacture, "said Preston. "What wouldn't scratch something else, makes aconfounded fracture in your feelings. I'll try and rememberwhat brittle ware I am dealing with. "

So that was over, and I gave him his tea; and then went roundto do the same by others. I had to take them in turn; and whenI got to Mr. Thorold at last, there was no more time then fortalking, which I longed for. After the surgeon's round, whenall was quiet again in the room, I sat at the foot of Mr. Thorold's bed with a kind of cry in my heart, to which I couldgive no expression. I could not kneel there, to pray; I couldnot leave my post; I could not speak nor listen where I wanteda full interchange of heart with heart; the oppression almostchoked me. Then I remembered I could sing. And I sang thathour, if I never did before. My sorrow, and my joy, and my cryof heart, I put them all into the notes and poured them forthin my song. I was never so glad I could sing as these days. Iknew, all the time, it was medicine and anodynes and strength- and maybe teaching - to many that heard; for me, it was thecry of prayer, and the pleading of faith, and the confessionof utmost need. How strong "Rock of Ages" seemed to me againthat night; the hymn, "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds, "was to me a very schedule of treasure; my soul mounted on thewords, like the angels on Jacob's ladder; the top of theladder was in heaven, if the foot of it was on a very roughspot of earth. That night I sang hymns, in the high-wroughtstate of my feelings, which the next day I could not havesung. I remember that one of them was "What are these inbright array, " with the chorus, "They have clean robes, whiterobes. " "When I can read my title clear, " was another. Sometimes a hymn starts up to me now, with a thrill ofknowledge that I sang it that night, which yet at other timesI cannot recall. I sang till the hour, and past it, when Imust go to my room and give place to the night watchers. Ilonged to stay, but it was impossible; so I went and badePreston good-night, who said to me never a word this time;spoke to one or two others; and then went to Mr. Thorold. Ilaid my hand on his. He grasped it immediately and looked upat me with a clear, sweet, bright look, which did me untoldgood; pulling me gently down. I bent over him, thinking hewished to speak; then I knew what he wished, and obeying theimpulse and the request, our lips met. I don't know if anybodysaw it; and I did not care. That kiss sent me to sleep. 

The next day I was myself again. Not relieved from theimpression which had seized me when I first saw Mr. Thorold;but quietly able to bear it; in a sort raised above it. To dothe moment's duty; to gather, and to give, every stray crumbof relief or pleasure that might be possible for either of us;better than that, to do the Lord's will and to bear it, wereall I sought for. All at least, of which I was fairlyconscious that I sought it; the heart has a way of carrying onunderground trains of feeling and action of its own, and sodid mine now. As I found afterwards. But I was perfectly ablefor all my work. When next I had an opportunity for privatetalk with Mr. Thorold, he asked me with a smile, if theresentment was all gone? I told him, "Oh, yes. "

"What was the 'self-will' about, Daisy?"

"You remember too well, " I said. 

"What?"

"Me and my words. "

"Why?"

"It is not easy to say why, just in this instance. "

"No. Well, Daisy, say the other thing. About the self-will. "

I hesitated. 

"Are you apt to be self-willed?" he asked, tenderly. 

"I do not know. I believe I did not use to think so. I amafraid it is very difficult to know oneself, Christian. "

"_I_ think you are self-willed, " he said, smiling. 

"Did you use to see it in me?"

"I think so. What is the present matter in hand, Daisy?"

I did not want to tell him. But I could not run away. Andthose bright eyes were going over my face and reading in it, Iknew. I did not know what they read. I feared. He waited, smiling a little as he looked. 

"I ought not to be self-willed, - about anything, " - I said atlast. 

"No, I suppose not. What has got a grip of your heart then, Daisy?"

"I am unwilling to see you lying here, " I said. It was saidwith great force upon myself, under the stress of necessity. 

"And unwilling that I should get any but one sort ofdischarge, " - he added. 

"You do not fear it, " I said, hastily. 

"I fear nothing. But a soldier, Daisy, - a soldier ought to beready for orders; and he must not choose. He does not knowwhere the service will call for him. He knows his Captain doesknow. "

I stood still, slowly fanning Mr. Thorold; my self-controlcould go no further than to keep, me outwardly quiet. 

"_You_ used to be a soldier, " he said gently, after a pause. "You are yet. Not ready for orders, Daisy?"

"Christian - you know, -" I stammered forth. 

"I know, my beloved. And there is another that knows. He knowsall. Can't you leave the matter to him?"

"I must. "

"Must is a hard word. Let Jesus appoint, and let you and meobey; because we love Him, and are His. "

He was silent, and so was I then; the words trooping in a sortof grand procession through some distant part of my brain -"All things are yours; whether life, or death, or the world, or things present, or things to come; all are yours; and yeare Christ's; and Christ is God's. " I knew they swept bythere, in their sweetness and their majesty; I could not layhold of them to make them dwell with me then. 

A few days went past, filled with duty as usual; more filledwith a consuming desire which had taken possession of me, toknow really how Mr. Thorold was and what were the prospects ofhis recovery. His face always looked clear and well; I thoughthis wounds were not specially painful; I never saw any signthat they were; the dressing of them was always borne veryquietly. _That_ was not uncommon, but involuntary tokens of painwere sometimes wrung from the sufferers; a sigh, or a knitbrow, or a pale cheek, or a clinched hand, gave one sorrowfulknowledge often that the heroism of patient courage was moreseverely tested in the hospital than on the field. I never sawany of these signs in Mr. Thorold. In spite of myself, a hopebegan to spring and grow in my heart, which at the firstseeing of him in that place I had thought dead altogether. Andthen I could not rest short of certainty. But how to get anylight at all on the subject was a question. The other nursecould not tell me, for she knew no more than myself; not somuch, for she rarely nursed Mr. Thorold. Dr. Sandford nevertold how his patients were doing or likely to do; if he wereasked, he evaded the answer. What we were to do, he toldexplicitly, carefully; the issue of our cares he left it totime and fact to show. So what was I to do? Moreover, I didnot wish to let him see that I had any, the least, solicitudefor one case more than the rest. And another thing, I dreadedunspeakably to make the appeal and have my doubts solved. Withthe one difficulty and the other before me, I let day afterday go by; day after day; during which I saw as much of Mr. Thorold as I could, and watched him with intense eyes. But Iwas able to resolve nothing; only I thought his appetite grewpoorer than it had been, while that of many others wasimproving. We had some chance for talk during those days; bysnatches, I told him a good deal of the history of my Europeanlife; and he gave me details of his life in camp and field. Welived very close to each other all that time, though outwardcommunication was so restricted. Hearts have their own way ofcommunicating, - and spirits are not wholly shut in by fleshand blood. But as the days went by, my anxiety and suspensebegan to glow unendurable. 

So I followed Dr. Sandford one morning to his den, as hecalled it. 

"Are you getting tired of hospital life?" he asked me? with asmile. "I see you want to speak to me. "

"You know I am not tired. "

"I know you are not. There is something in a woman that likessuffering, I think, if only she can lay her hand on it andrelieve it. "

"That is making it a very selfish business, Dr. Sandford. "

"We are all selfish, " said the doctor. "The difference is, that some are selfish for themselves, and some for otherpeople. "

"Now you are cynical. "

"I am nothing of the kind. What do you want with me?"

"Preston is doing very well, is he not, Dr. Sandford. "

"Perfectly well. He will be out just as soon as in the natureof things it is possible. I suppose, or am I not to suppose, that then you will consider your work done?"

"I do not think he wants me a quarter as much as other people, now. "

"He does not want you at all, in the sense of needing. In theother sense, I presume different people might put in a claimto be attended to. "

"But, Dr. Sandford, I wish I knew who of all these people inthe ward need me most. "

"You are doing all you can for all of them. "

"If I had that knowledge, though, I might serve them better -or with more judicious service. "

"No you could not, " said the doctor. "You are twice asjudicious as Miss Yates now; though she is twice as old asyou. You do the right thing in the right place always. "

"I wish you would do this thing for me, nevertheless, Dr. Sandford. I wish it very much. "

"What thing?"

"Let me know the various states of the patients, and theirprospect of recovery. "

"Most of them have a very fair prospect of recovery, " said thedoctor. 

"Will you do it for me, Dr. Sandford? - I ask it as a greatfavour. "

"Gary's all right, " he said, with a full look at me. 

"Yes, I know; but I would like to know how it is with theothers. I could better tell how to minister to them, and whatto do. "

"The thing to be done would not vary at all with yourincreased knowledge, Daisy. "

"Not the things in your line, I know; but the things in mine. "

"You would know better how to sing, to wit?" said the doctor. 

"And to pray -" I said half under my breath. 

"Daisy, I haven't a schedule of the cases here; and if I toldyou, you might forget, among so many, which was which. Anyhow, I have not the schedule. "

"No, but you could do this for me. To-night, Dr. Sandford, when you go round, you could indicate to me what I want toknow, and nobody else be the wiser. When we come to any casethat is serious, but with hope, take hold of your chin, so; ifany is serious without hope, just pass your hand through yourhair. You do that often. "

"Not when I am going my rounds, Daisy, " said the doctor, looking amused. 

"Only this time, for me, " I pleaded. 

"You would not sing as well. "

"I should - or I might - know better how to sing. "

"Or you might not be able to sing at all. Though your nervesare good, " the doctor admitted. "Women's nerves are made of amaterial altogether differently selected, or tempered, fromthat of masculine nerves; pure metal, of some ethereal sort. "

"Are there such things as masculine nerves?" I asked. 

"Do you doubt it?" said the doctor, turning a half reproachfullook upon me. 

"Dr. Sandford, I do not doubt it. And so, you will, for once, and as an extraordinary kindness, do this thing for me that Ihave asked you. "

"The use of it is hidden from me, " said the doctor; "but toadmit my ignorance is a thing I have often done before, whereyou are concerned. "

"Then I will take care to be with you as soon as you come inthis evening, " I said, "so as to get all you will tell me. "

"If I do not forget it, " said the doctor. 

But I knew there was no danger of his forgetting. There was notaking Dr. Sandford off his guard. In all matters thatconcerned his professional duties, he was like steel; forstrength and truth and temper. Nothing that Dr. Sandford didnot see; nothing that he did not remember; nothing that wastoo much for his skill and energies and executive faculty. Nobody disobeyed Dr. Sandford - unless it were I, now andthen. 

I walked through the rest of that day in a smothered fever. How I had found courage to make my proposition to the doctor, I do not know; it was the courage of desperate suspense whichcould bear itself no longer. After the promise had beenobtained that I sought, my courage failed. My joints trembledunder me, as I went about the ward; my very hands trembled asI ministered to the men. The certainty that I had coveted, Idreaded now. Yet Mr. Thorold looked so well and seemed tosuffer so little, I could not but quarrel with myself forfolly, in being so fearful. Also I was ready to questionmyself, whether I had done right in seeking more knowledge ofthe future than might come to me day by day in the slow courseof events. But I had done it; and Dr. Sandford was coming inthe evening. 

"What is the matter with you, Daisy?" Mr. Thorold said. 

"Is anything the matter?" I replied. 

"Yes. What is it?"

"How can you see it, Christian?"

"I?" - said he. "I see right through your eyes, back into thethought that looks out of them. "

"Yet you ask me for the thought?"

"The root of it. Yes. I see that you are preoccupied, andtroubled; - and trembling. _You_, my Daisy?

"Can I quite help it, Christian?"

"Can you quite trust the Lord?"

"But, - not that He will always save me from what I fear. "

"No; not that. Let Him save you from the _fear_. "

"How have you learned so much about it, so much more than I?"- and my lips were trembling then, I know. 

"I have had time, " he said gently. "All those months andmonths, when you were at an unimaginable distance from me, actually and morally, - and prospectively, - do you think Ihad no chance to exercise myself in the lesson of submission?I fought out that problem, Daisy. "

"Were you in Washington the winter of '61?" I asked, changingthe subject; for I could not bear it. 

"Part of that winter, " he said, with a somewhat surprised lookat me. 

"Did you meet in society here that winter a Miss St. Clair, who used to be once a schoolmate of mine? - very handsome. "

"I think I remember her. I knew nothing about her having beenat school with you, or I think I should have sought heracquaintance. "

"She was said to have yours. "

"A passing, society acquaintance, she had. "

"Nothing more?"

"More?" said he. "No. Nothing more. "

"How came the report that you were her dearest friend?"

"From the father of lies, " said Mr. Thorold; "if there everwas such a report; which I should doubt. "

"It came to me in Paris. "

"Did you believe it?"

"I could not; but papa did. It came from Miss St. Clair's ownparticular friend, and she told mamma, I think, that you wereengaged to her. "

"I think particular friends are a nuisance!" said Mr. Thorold. "Why, she was said _here_, to be engaged to somebody, - Major -Major Somebody, - I forget. Major Fairbairn. "

"Major Fairbairn!"

"Yes. Why?"

"That explains it, " I exclaimed. 

"Explains what?" said Mr. Thorold. And such a shower of fireas came from his eyes then, fun and intelligence andaffection, never came from anybody's eyes beside. I had totell him all I was thinking about; and then hurry away to myduties. 

But at tea time I could touch nothing. The trembling hadreached my very heart. 

"Why, you ain't going to give out, are you?" said Miss Yatesin a concerned voice. "You've gone a little beyond yourtether. "

"Not at all, " said I; "not at all. I am only not hungry. Iwill go back, if you please, to something I _can_ do. "

I busied myself restlessly about the ward, till one of themen, I forget who, asked me to sing to them. It had become astanding ordinance of the place; and people said, a verybeneficial one. But to-night I had not thought I could sing. Yet when he asked me, the power came. I did not sit down 'asusual;' standing at the foot of Mr. Thorold's bed I sang, leaning hard against strength and love out of sight; and myvoice was as clear as ever. 

The ward was so very still that I should have thought nothingcould come in or go out without my being conscious of a stir. However, the absolute hush continued, until it occurred to methat I must have been singing a great while, and I half turnedand glanced down the room. My singing was done; for therestood Dr. Sandford, as still as I had been, with folded armsnear the door. I went towards him immediately. 

"Do you have this sort of concert most evenings?" he inquired, as he took my hand. 

"Always, Dr. Sandford. "

"I never heard you sing so well anywhere else, " he remarked. 

"I never had such an audience. But now, you remember myrequest this morning, Dr. Sandford?"

"I never forget your requests, " he said, gravely. And we wentto business. 

From one to another, from one to another. Generally with nomore but a pleasant or a kind word from the doctor to thepatient; but two or three times the doctor's hand came to hischin for a moment, before such a word was spoken. - It did notin those cases tell me much. I had known, or guessed, thetruth of them before. I suppose every good nurse must get apower or faculty of reading symptoms and seeing the state ofthe patient, both actual and probable. I was not shocked norstartled. But the shock and the start were all the greater, when pausing before the one cot which held what I cared for inthis world, the doctor's fingers were thrust suddenly throughhis thick auburn hair. He went on immediately with the dueattention to Mr. Thorold's wounds; and I waited and stood by, with no outward sign, I think, of the death at my heart. Eventhrough all the round, I kept my place by Dr. Sandford's side, doing whatever was wanted of me, attending, at least inoutward guise, to what was going on. So one can do, while thewhole soul and life are concentrated on some point unconnectedwith it all, outside of it all, in the distance. Towards thatpoint I slowly made my way, as the doctor went through hisrounds; and came up with it at last in the little retiringroom which he called his own and where our conversation of themorning had been held. 

"I see how little I know, Dr. Sandford, " I remarked. 

"Ay?" said he. "I had been thinking rather the other way. "

"You surprised me very much - with the one touch of yourhair. "

The doctor was silent. 

"I should have thought - in my ignorance - several others morelikely to have called for it. "

"Thorold is the only one, " said the doctor. 

"How is it?"

"The injuries are internal and complicated; and beyond reach. "

The doctor had been washing his hands, and I was now washingmine; and with my face so turned away from him, I went on. 

"He does not seem to suffer much. "

"Doesn't he?" said the doctor. 

"Should he?"

"He should, if he has not good power of self-control. No manin the ward suffers as he does. I have noticed, he hides itwell. "

I was washing my hands. I remember my wringing the water fromthem; then I remember no more. When I knew anything again, Iwas lying on an old sofa that stood in the doctor's room, andhe was putting water or brandy - I hardly know what - on myface. With a face of his own that was pale, I saw even then, without seeing it, as it bent over me. He was speaking myname. I struggled for breath and tried to raise myself. Hegently put me back. 

"Lie still, " he said. "Are you better?"

"I am quite well, " I answered. 

He gave me a few drops of something to swallow. It revived me. I sat up presently on the sofa, pushed back the hair from myface, and thought I would get up and be as though nothing hadbeen. Dr. Sandford's hand followed my hasty fingers and putgently away from my brow the hair I had failed to stroke intoorder. It was an unlucky touch, for it reached more than myhair and my brow. I turned deadly sick again, and fell backinto unconsciousness. 

When a second time I recovered sense, I kept still and waitedand let Dr. Sandford minister to me as he thought best, withstrong waters and sweet waters and ice water; until he sawthat I was really restored, and I saw that great concern wassitting upon his features. 

"You have overtasked yourself at last, " he said. 

"Not at all, " I answered, quietly. 

"You must do no more, Daisy. "

"I must do all my work, " I said. And I sat up now and put myfeet to the floor, and put up my fallen-down hair, taking outmy comb and twisting up the hair in some semblance of itswont. 

"Your work here is done, " said the doctor. 

I finished doing up my hair and took a towel and wiped thedrops of water and brandy from my face. 

"Daisy, I know your face, " said the doctor, anxiously; "and ithas just the determined gentleness I used to see at ten yearsold. But you would yield to authority then, and you must now. And you will. "

"When it is properly exerted, " I said. "But it is not now, Dr. Sandford, and it will not be. I am perfectly well; and I amgoing to do my work. "

"You fainted just now from very exhaustion. "

"I am not exhausted at all. Nor even tired. I am perfectlywell. "

"I never knew you faint before. "

"No, " I said. "It is very disagreeable. "

"Disagreeable!" said the doctor, half laughing, thoughthoroughly disturbed. "What made you do it, then?"

I could not answer. I stood still, with cheeks I suppose againgrowing so white, that the doctor hastily approached me withhartshorn. But I put it away and shook my head. 

"I am not going to faint again, thank you. "

"Daisy, Daisy!" said the doctor, "don't you know that yourwelfare is very dear to me?"

"I know it, " I said. "I know you are like a good brother tome, Dr. Sandford. "

"I am not like a brother at all!" said he. "Cannot you seethat?"

"I do not want to see it, " I answered sadly. "If I have not abrother in you, I have nothing. "

"Why?" he asked shortly. 

But I made no answer, and he asked no more. He looked at me, made a step towards the door, turned back, and came close tome, speaking in a husky changed tone, -

"You shall command me, Daisy, as you have long done. Let meknow what to do to please you. "

He went away then and left me. And I gathered my strengthtogether and went back to Mr. Thorold. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"HERE!"

From that time we all were, to all seeming, just as we hadbeen before that day. Dr. Sandford went his rounds, with nochange perceptible in his manner towards any- body, or towardsme. I think I was not different in the ward from what I hadbeen, except to one pair of eyes: The duties of every dayrolled on as they had been accustomed to do; the singing ofevery night was just as usual. One thing was a little changed. I sought no longer to hide that Mr. Thorold was something tome. The time for that was past. Of the few broken minutes thatremained to us, he should lose none, nor I, by unnecessarydifficulty. I was by his side now, all I could withoutneglecting those who also needed me. And we talked, all wecould, with his strength and my time. I cared not now, thatall the ward should see and know what we were to each other. 

Mr. Thorold saw a change in me, and asked the reason. And Igave it. And then we talked no more of our own losses. 

"I am quite ready to go, Daisy, " he had said to me, with alook both bright and sweet which it breaks my heart, while itgladdens me, to remember. "You will come by and by, and Ishall be looking for you; and I am ready now, love. "

After that, we spoke no more of our parting. We talked a verygreat deal of other things, past and future; talks, that itseems to me - now were scarce earthly, for their pure highbeauty, and truth, and joy. The strength of them will go withme all my life. Dr. Sandford let us alone; ministered, to Mr. Thorold and me, all he could; and interfered with me no more. Preston took an opportunity to grumble; but that was soonsilenced, for I showed him that I would not bear it. 

And the days in the hospital sped away. I do not know how; Idid not know at the time. Only as one lives and works andbreathes and sleeps in the presence of a single thought, enveloping and enfolding everything else. The life was hardlymy own life; it was the life of another; or rather the twolives were for the time so joined that they were almost one. In a sort happy, as long as it was so. 

But I knew it could not last; and the utter uncertainty whenit would end, oppressed me fearfully. Nothing in Mr. Thorold'slooks or manner gave me any help to judge about it. His facewas like itself always; his eye yet sometimes flashed andsparkled after its own brilliant fashion, as gayly and freelyas ever. It always gave me untold pain; it brought life anddeath into such close neighbourhood, and seemed to mock at thenecessity which hung over us. And then, if Mr. Thorold saw ashadow come over my brow, he would give me such words andlooks of comfort and help, that again death was half swallowedup of a better life, before the time. So the days went; andMr. Thorold said I grew thin; and the nurses and attendantswere almost reverentially careful of me; and Dr. Sandford wasa silent servant of mine and of Mr. Thorold's too, doing allthat was possible for us both. And Preston was fearfullyjealous and irritable; and wrote, I knew long afterwards, tomy mother; and my mother sent me orders to return home to herat once and leave everything; and Dr. Sandford never gave methe letters. I missed nothing; knew nothing; asked nothing;until the day came that I was looking for. 

It came, and left me. I had done all I had to do; all I wantedto do; I had been able to do it all. Through the hours of thelast struggle, no hand but mine had touched him. It was borne, as everything else had been borne, with a clear, braveuncomplainingness; his eye was still bright and quiet when itmet mine, and the smile sweet and ready. We did not talk much;we had done that in the days past; our thoughts were known toeach other; we were both looking now to the time of nextmeeting. But his head lay on my shoulder at the very last, andhis hand was in mine. I don't think I knew when the momentwas; until somebody drew him out of my hands and placed himback on the pillow. It was I then closed the eyes; and then Ilaid my brow for a few minutes on the one that was growingcold, for the last leave-taking. Nobody meddled with me; I sawand heard nothing; and indeed when I stood up I was blind; Iwas not faint, but I could see nothing. Some one took my hand, I felt, and drew my arm through his and led me away. I knew, as soon as my hand touched his arm, that it was Dr. Sandford. 

I did not go back to the ward that day, and I never went back. I charged Dr. Sandford with all my remaining care, and heaccepted the charge. No illness seized me, but my heartfailed. That was worse. Better have been sick. Bodily illnessis easier to get at. 

And there was nobody to minister to mine. Dr. Sandford'spresence worried me, somehow. It ought not, but it did. Mrs. Sandford was kind, and of course helpless to do me good. Ithink the doctor saw I was not doing well, nor likely to bebetter, and he brought me on to New York, to my mother. 

Mamma understood nothing of what had passed, except whatPreston's letter had told her. I do not know how much, orwhat, it was; and I did not care. Mamma, however, was wroughtup to a point of discomfort quite beyond the usual chronicunrest of the year past. She exclaimed at my appearance;complained of my change of manner; inveighed againsthospitals, lady nurses, Dr. Sandford, the war, Yankees andWashington air; and declaimed against the religion which didnot make daughters dutiful and attentive to their mothers. Itwas true, some of it; but my heart was dead, for the time, andpowerless to heed. - I heard, and did not feel. I could notminister to my mother's happiness now, for I had no spring ofstrength in my own; and ministry that was not bright andwinsome did, not content her. Such as I had I gave; I knew itwas poor, and she said so. 

As the spring drew on, and days grew gentle, and soft weatherreplaced the strong brace of the winter frost, my condition ofhealth became more and more unsatisfactory. My mother grewseriously uneasy at length and consulted Dr. Sandford. And thenext thing was Dr. Sandford's appearance at our hotel. 

"What is the matter with you, Daisy?" he asked, veryprofessionally. Mamma was out when he came. 

"Nothing -" I answered; "except what will take its own time. "

"Not like you, that answer, " he said. 

"It is like me now, " I replied. 

"We must get back to a better condition. It is not I good foryou to be in this place. Would you like to go into quartersnear Melbourne, for the summer?"

"Better than anything! - if you could manage it. Mamma wouldnot like it. "

"I think I can convince her. "

Dr. Sandford I knew had powers of convincing, and I judge theywere helped on this occasion by facts in the pecuniary stateof our affairs, to which my mother could no longer quite shuther eyes. She had not money to remain where she was. I thinkshe had not been able, properly, to be there, for a good whilepast; though the bills were paid somehow. But now herresources failed; the war was evidently ending disastrouslyfor the South; her hopes gave way; and she agreed to let Dr. Sandford make arrangements for our going into the country. Itwas very bitter to her, the whole draught she had to swallow;and the very fact of being under necessity. Dr. Sandford had adeal of trouble, I fancy, to find any house or arrangementthat would content her. No board was procurable that could beendured even for a day. The doctor found at last, and hired, and put in order for us, a small cottage on the way betweenMelbourne and Crum Elbow; and there, early in June, mamma andI found ourselves established; "Buried, " she said;"sheltered, " I thought. 

"I wish I was dead, " mamma said next morning. 

"Mamma - why do you speak so? just now. "

"There is no sort of view here - nothing in the world butthose grass fields. "

"We have this fine elm tree over the house, mamma, to shadeus. That is worth a great deal. "

"If the windows had Italian shades, they would be better. Whatwindows! Who do you suppose lived here before us?"

"Mamma, I do think it is very comfortable. "

"I hope you will show that you think so, then. I have had nocomfort in you for a long time past. "

I thought, _I_ should never have comfort in anybody any more. 

"What has changed you so?"

"Changes come to everybody, I suppose, mamma, now and then. "

"Is that all your boasted religion is good for?"

I could not answer. Was it? What is the boat which can onlysail in smooth water? But though feeling reproached, andjustly, I was as far from help as ever. Mamma went on -

"You used to be always bright - with your sort of brightness;there was not much brilliance to it; but you had a kind ofsteady cheerfulness of your own, from a child. What has becomeof it?"

"Mamma, I am sorry it is gone. Perhaps it will wake up one ofthese days. "

"I shall die of heartache first. It would be the easiest thingI could do. To live here, is to die a long death. I feel as ifI could not get a free breath now. "

"I think, mamma, when we get accustomed to the place, we shallfind pleasantness in it. It is a world pleasanter than NewYork. "

"No, it is not, " said mamma vehemently; "and it never will be. In a city, you can cover yourself up, as it were, and halfhide yourself from even yourself; in such a place as this, there is not a line in your lot but you have; leisure to traceit all out; and there is not a rough place in your life butyou have time to put your foot on every separate inch of it. Life is bare, Daisy; in a city one lives faster, and one is ina crowd, and things are covered up or one passes them oversomehow. I shall die here!"

"Next spring you can have Melbourne again, mamma, you know. "

But mamma burst into tears. I knew not how to comfort. 

"Would'st thou go forth to bless? be sure of thine own ground;"Fix well thy centre first; then draw thy circle round. "

I was silent, while mamma wept. 

"I wish you would keep Dr. Sandford from coming here!" shesaid suddenly. 

"I see his curricle at the gate now, mamma. "

"Then I'll go. I don't want to see him. Do give him adismissal, Daisy!"

Our only faithful kind friend; how could I? It was notpossible that I should do such a thing. 

"How is all here?" said the doctor, coming in. 

I told him, as well as usual - or not quite. Mamma had not gotaccustomed to the change yet. 

"And Daisy?"

"I like it. "

The doctor took an ungratified survey of my countenance. 

"Don't you want to see some of your old friends?"

"Friends? - _here?_ Who, Dr. Sandford?"

"Old Juanita would like to see you. "

"Juanita!" said I. "Is she alive?"

"You do not seem very glad of it?"

I was not glad of anything. But I did not say so. 

"She would like to see you. "

"I suppose she would. "

"Do you not incline to gratify her?"

"Did you tell her of - my being here, Dr. Sandford?"

"It was a very natural thing to do. If I had not, somebodyelse would. "

"I will go over to see her some time, " I said. "I suppose itis not too far for me to walk. "

"It is not too far for you to ride, " said the doctor. "I amgoing that way now. Put on your hat and come. The air will begood for you. "

It was not pleasant to go. Nevertheless I yielded and went. Iknew how it would be. Every foot of the way pain. The doctorlet me alone. I was thankful for that. And he left me alone atJuanita's cottage. He drove on, and I walked up the littlepath where I had first gone for a drink of water almost elevenyears ago. Yet eleven years, from ten to twenty-one, is not somuch, in most cases, I thought. In mine, it was a whole life-time, and the end of a life-time. So it seemed. 

The interview with my old nurse was not satisfactory. Not tome, and I think not to her. I did not seem to her quite thesame Daisy Randolph she had known; indeed I was not the same. Juanita had a little awe of me; and I could not be unreservedand remove the awe. I could not tell her my heart's history;and without telling it, in part, I could not but keep at adistance from my old friend. Time might bring something out ofour intercourse; but I felt that this first sight of her haddone me no good. So Dr. Sandford found that I felt; for hetook pains to know. 

Juanita was but little changed. The eleven years had justtouched her. She was more wrinkled, hardly so firm in herbearing, not quite so upright, as her beautiful presence usedto be. There was no deeper change. The brow was as peacefuland as noble as ever. I thought, speculating upon it, that shemust have seen storms, too, in her life-time. The clouds wereall cleared away, long since. Perhaps it will be so with me, Ithought, some day; by and by. 

I thought Dr. Sandford would be discouraged in trying to do megood; however, a day or two after this drive, I saw his horsesstopping again at our gate. My mother uttered an exclamationof impatience. 

"Does that man come to see you or me, Daisy?" she asked. 

"Mamma, I think he is a kind friend to both of us, " I said. 

"I suppose every woman has a tenderness for a man that isenamoured of her, if he is ever so great a fool, " sheremarked. 

"Mamma! - nobody ever accused Dr. Sandford before of being afool. "

"He is a fool to look at you. Do get a little wisdom into hishead, Daisy!" And she left the room again as the doctorentered the house. 

I knew he and I understood each other; and though he might bea fool after mamma's reckoning, I had a great kindness forhim. So I met him with frank kindness now. The doctor walkedabout the room a while, talking of indifferent things; andthen said suddenly, -

"Do you remember old Molly Skelton?"

"Certainly. What of her?"

"She is dying, poor creature. "

"Does _she_ know I am here?" I asked. 

"I have not told her. "

"Would she like to see me, do you think?" I said, with anuneasy consciousness that I must go, whatever the answer were. 

"If she can recognise you-I presume there is nobody else shewould so like to see. As in reason there ought not. "

"Can you take me there, Dr. Sandford?"

"Not at this hour; I am going another way. This afternoon Iwill take you, if you will go. Will you go?"

"If you will be so good as to take me. "

"I will come for you then at four o'clock. "

That ride I have reason to remember. It was a fair Juneafternoon, though the month was almost out now; the peculiarbrilliance which distinguishes June shone through the air andsparkled on the hills. With clear bright outlines the Catskillrange stretched away right and left before us, whenever ourroad brought us in view of it; fulness of light on the sunnyslopes, soft depth of shadow on the others, proclaiming theclear purity of the atmosphere. The blue of the sky, the freshsweetness of the air, the life of colour in the fields andtrees, all I suppose made their appeal at the doors of myheart; for I felt the pressure. It is the life in this Juneweather, I think, that reproaches what in us is not life; andmy spirit was dead. Not really, but practically; and the Junebeauty gave me pain. I was out of harmony with it. And I heardnature's soft whisper of reproof. Justly given; for when oneis out of harmony with nature, there is sure to be some wantof harmony with the Author of nature. The doctor drove mesilently, letting nature and me have it out together; till wecame to the old cottage of Molly Skelton, and he handed mefrom the curricle. Still the doctor was silent. 

He stopped, purposely I think, to speak to his groom; and Iwent in first. The rows of flowers by the side of the walkwere tangled and overgrown and a thicket of weeds; no care hadvisited them for many a day; but they were there yet. Mollyhad not forgotten her old tastes. I went on, wondering atmyself, and entered the cottage. The sick woman lay on the bedthere, alone and seemingly asleep; I turned from her to lookat the room. The same old room; little different from what itused to be; even two pots with geraniums in them stood on thewindow-sill, drooping their heads for want of water. Nobodyhad watered them for so long. Clearly Molly had not changed. Was it only I? I looked and wondered, as I saw myself again atten years old in that very room. Here had been those firstcups of tea; those first lessons in A B C; and other lessonsin the beginnings of a higher knowledge. What had they allcome to? Was Molly the better in anything beyond her flowers?What had eleven years wrought for her?

I turned again from the past, as the doctor came in, to lookat the poor creature herself. She did not answer the words headdressed to her; I doubted if she heard them; she wasevidently oppressed with disease, which was fast making an endof her. Experience had taught me now to judge somewhat of thelooks and condition of sick people. Molly, I saw, was verysick; and I knew soon that it was with a combination of evils, which had taken hold of her, and made her poor existence awearisome thing. It was near an end now. 

"Speak to her, " - said the doctor. 

And I did, and he did; but we got no response. None in words;I fancied that the look of the face bore witness to somearoused attention; might it be more? One hand of Molly's laystretched out upon the coverlid. She was a mass of disease; Ishould not have thought once that I could touch that hand; butI had had training since then. I put my hand upon that poorhand and clasped it. I fancied, I cannot tell why, that Mollywas sensible of my action and that she liked it; yet she didnot speak. - We sat so, my hand in hers, or hers in mine, andDr. Sandford watching us. Time went by. I hardly knew how itwent. 

"How long will you stay?" he asked at length. 

"I cannot leave her so, Dr. Sandford. "

"You cannot stay here!"

"Why not?"

"It would be a peculiar proceeding. You would not do it?"

"I cannot do otherwise, Dr. Sandford. I cannot leave her alonein this condition. "

"I cannot leave _you_, " he said. 

"There is nothing to be afraid of, " I returned, looking athim. "And something may need to be done. "

The doctor's look in answer was unguarded; it expressed somuch that he did not generally allow himself to express; itwas full of tenderness, of reverence, of affection. Full itwas of sorrow too. It was not a look I could meet. I turnedfrom it hastily; the former question was let drop; and we wereagain still and silent. I had enough to keep me silent, andDr. Sandford was as mute. All three of us only breathed incompany, for a long while more; though I suppose some of Dr. Sandford's meditations and mine came near together. I do notknow how time went; but then, the one to break silence was theone I had thought might never speak again. Suddenly she beganin a low sort of crooning voice, saying over and over the samewords -

"I am in the valley - in the valley - in the valley -"

Maybe half a dozen times she repeated these words; andforlornly true as they seemed of her, I was in doubt whethershe knew of what she was speaking. Could intelligence beawake, in that oppressed condition of the bodily powers? Herspeech was a sort of mumbling repetition. But then, with achange of tone, clean and round the words came out -

"But there's light in the valley! -"

My heart sprang with such an impulse of joy as quiteoverleaped all my own sorrows and took me out of them. ThenMolly had not forgotten; then the seed sown long ago had notperished in the ground or been caught away; it had beengrowing and springing all these years; life had sprung up inthe ungenial soil, even everlasting life; and what wereearth's troubles to that? One vision of unseen things, rushingin, made small all the things that are seen. The poor oldcripple, deformed and diseased, whose days must have been longa burden to her, was going even now to drop the slough of hermortality and to take on her the robes of light and the lifethat is all glory. What if my own life were barren for awhile; then comes the end! What if I must be alone in myjourney; I may do the Master's work all the way. And _this_ isHis work; to set the captive free; light to the blind; theopening of the prison doors to them that are bound; riches tothe poor; yes, life to the dead. If I may do this work, shallI complain, because I have not the helper I wanted; when Godis my helper?

I waited but till Dr. Sandford was gone, for I made him go;and then I knelt down by Molly's bedside, very, very humbled, to weep out my confession and prayer. 

Molly slumbered on, wanting nothing, when I rose to my feet;and I went to the cottage door and sat down on the step. Thesun was going to set in glory beyond the blue misty line ofthe mountains; the June evening light was falling, infreshness and sweetness, on every leaf and blade of grass; andthe harmony I had wanted I had got again. 

Molly's words had made the first rift in my cloud; the firstsunshine had reached me that I had seen for many a long day. Isaw it at last, as I sat in the cottage door and looked at theglory of the evening. I saw, that although my life might be inshadow for most of its way, yet the sunshine was on the otherside of the cloud, unchanged, and I should come out into it indue time. And others were in its full rays already; - and mypoor Molly was just going to find its brightness. Could I notwait a while? - just for myself? - and meanwhile do my blessedwork?

And now, in the hush of my spirit, nature came home to me withher messages. The sunbeams laid their promise at my feet, ofeverlasting joy; the hills told me of unchangeableness andstrength, and reminded me of what Mont Pilatte used to say. The air breathed balm, comfort, the earnest of gracioussupply; the beauty around me said that God would not withholdanything that was good for me. I could trust Him; and Ithanked Him for the messages of His creatures; and I prayedthat I, an intelligent living creature of higher order, mightlive to carry higher messages, for Him, to all within myreach. I gave myself to do His will. And as for the comfort ofmy life, God would take care of that, and be Himself myportion and my exceeding great reward. 

The sun went down behind the Catskill leaving the mountains ina bath of glorified mist; and I, strengthened and comforted, left my door-step and went back to Molly. She lay as she hadlain, in what I might have supposed stupor; and perhaps itwas; but she had said there was light in the valley she wasgoing through. That was enough. She might speak no more; andin effect she never did intelligibly; it did not matter. Myheart was full of songs of gladness for her; yes, for a momentI almost stood up yonder, among the harpers harping with theirharps. Meanwhile I put the little room to rights; even as Ihad tried to do when I was a little child. I succeeded betternow; and then I sat down to wait; there seemed nothing more tobe done. The evening shades closed in; I wondered if I were tospend the night alone with the dying woman; but I was notafraid. I think I have done with fear in this world. Even asthe thought passed me, Dr. Sandford came in. 

He had not been able to get any help, and he came to take myplace, that I might go home. It ended in our watching thenight through together; for of course I would not leave thecottage. It was a night of strange and new peace to me; peacethat I had not known for many months. Molly was slowly passingaway; not seeming to suffer much, needing little care; she waspast it; and Dr. Sandford bestowed his attention upon me. Hesent for refreshments; had a fire built, for the June nightwas chill; and watched me and waited upon me. And I let him, for I knew it gave him pleasure. 

"How do you do?" he said to me one time when the night was farspent. 

"Why do you ask that, Dr. Sandford?"

"Must you know, before you tell me?"

"No, not at all; I was only curious, because I know you alwayshave a reason for your questions. "

"Most people have, I believe. "

"Yes, curiosity; but it is knowledge, not ignorance, thatprompts your inquiries, Dr. Sandford. "

He smiled at that; one of the pleasant smiles I used to knowso well. I saw them rarely now. It made me a little sad, for Iknew Dr. Sandford's life had suffered an eclipse, as well asmine. 

"I have not so much knowledge that I do not desire more, " hesaid. 

"Yes, I know. I am very well, thank you. "

"You were not very well when I brought you here. "

"No. I was well in body. "

"You are better?"

"Yes. "

"If it were not impertinent, I would like to ask more. "

"It is not impertinent. You may ask. "

"In pursuit of my old psychological study, you know. What hashappened in this poor little place, by this poor creature'sbedside, to do any good to Daisy Randolph?"

Now it was not according to my nature to like to tell him. Butwhat had I just been asking, but that I might carry messages?So I spoke, slowly. 

"This poor creature is just going to step out of this poorplace, into glory. The light of that glory is shining aroundher now, for she said so. You heard her. "

"Yes, " said the doctor. "Well?"

"Well, Dr. Sandford, it reminded me how near the glory is, andhow little this world's things are in face of it. I haveremembered that I am a servant of the King of that land, andan heir of the glory; and that He loves me now, and has givenme work to do for Him, and when the work is done will take mehome. And I am content. "

"What 'work' are you going to do?" the doctor asked, rathergrowlingly. 

"I do not know. What He gives me. "

And even as I spoke, there was a rush of tears to my eyes, with the thought that I must do my work alone; but I wascontent, nevertheless. Dr. Sandford was not. His fingersworked restlessly among the thick locks of his hair; as if hewere busy with a thicket of thoughts as well; but he saidnothing more. 

Towards morning Molly passed away from the scene of her verylonely and loveless life journey. I went to the door again, intime to see the rays of the morning brightening the blue ridgewhich lay clear and cool over against me. 

What light for Molly now! And what new light for me. 

I drove home through that new light, outward and inward. Icould and did give mamma some pleasure at breakfast; and thenslept a quiet, dreamless sleep, to make up for my loss of thenight before. 

I have got through my story now, I think. In Molly's cottage, life started anew for me, on a new basis. Not my own specialgratification, but my Lord's will. And I seeking that, Hetakes care of the other. I find it so. And He has promisedthat everybody shall find it so. My only care is to do exactlythe work He means I shall do. It is not so easy always to findout and make sure of that. I would like, if I followed myliking, I would like to go South and teach in the Freedmen'sschools somewhere. But that is not my work now, for mammaclaims me here. 

We are at Melbourne again. As soon as the last tenant's termof possession was expired, Dr. Sandford had the house put inorder for us, and mamma and I moved in. There is a sort ofpleasure, in being here, in the old place; but it is a mingledpleasure. I think all places are pleasant to me now. Mammareigns here queen, as of old; - for Ransom will not comeNorth, and leaves all in her hand. All the enjoyment, that is. Dr. Sandford manages the business. I do not know how long thiswill last; for Ransom may marry, and in that case he may wishto live in the place himself, and mamma and I would have togo; but that day is not yet; and the blue mountains across theriver, and the slopes of green turf, and the clumps and grovesof trees which stand about the house and adorn the grounds, are all in even greater beauty than when I was ten years old;and I enjoy them even more. 

Dr. Sandford takes care of everything that mamma cannotmanage. I know why he does it; and I am sorry. He is like agood brother to me, and I am very fond of him; he is comingand going in our house continually; he furthers my plans, andministers to all my pleasure, and looks after my well-being, somewhat as he did when I was ten years old; only with muchmore of freedom and acknowledged affection and authority. Ithink he fancies that time will befriend him and bring me tolook upon him in a light more kindly for his wishes. He ismistaken. People may love truly and love again, I suppose; Ihave no doubt men may; but I think not women. Not true women, when they have once thoroughly given their hearts. I do notthink they can take them back to give again. And mine is Mr. Thorold's. 

My writing all this has been a great comfort to me and done megood. Have I accomplished what I said at the beginning I wouldtry to do, - follow out the present truth of my life to thepossible glory? Surely I have found it. Through sorrow andjoy, through gain and loss, yes, and I suppose by means ofthese, I have come to know that all joy, even fulness of joy, is summed up in being wholly the Lord's child. To do His will, and to be filled with the happiness that He can give and Healone, that is enough for anybody. It is enough for me. 

THE END. 

Note by the transcriber :DAISY IN THE FIELD is the continuation of MELBOURNE HOUSEand DAISY.