"Papa. - I thought he hadnot."
My father smiled. "Which of these young friends of ours do you like 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, a little constrained. I was very sorry, and could not help it.
"Papa - I think - Don't you think, Mr. Marshall has the most principle?"
"Do you always like people best that are the best, Daisy?" said papa laughing. "Because, I confess I have a wicked perverseness to do the other way."
After this conversation I seemed to see several clouds rising on my horizon in different quarters. I thought it was wisest not to look at them; but there was one that cast a shadow always on the spot where I was. It was so long since I had heard from Mr. Thorold! I had told him he must not write to me; but at the same time he had said that he would, and that he would enclose a letter to my father. Neither letter had come. It was easy to account for; he might not have had a chance to write; or in the confusions at home, his despatch might have been detained somewhere; it might reach me after a long interval, or it might never reach me! There was nothing strange about it; there was something trying. The hunger of my heart for one word from him or of him, grew sometimes rapacious; it was a perpetual fast day with me, and nature cried out for relief.Thatcloud cast a shadow always over me now; only except when now and then a ray from the eternal sunshine found a rift in the cloud, or shot below it, and for a moment my feet stood in light. I had letters from the Sandfords; I had even one from Miss Cardigan; it did me a great deal of good, but it broke my heart too.
Mamma and I kept off the subject of the great world for a while; I think my father purposely prolonged our stay at Geneva, to favour my pleasure; and I hoped something after all might prevent the discussion of that subject between mamma and me, 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 the weather was fine. Our three young men were around it and the air was fragrant with the fumes of their cigars. The cigars of two of them were tossed away on my appearance. Ransom held his in abeyance.
"I did not know you were here," I said, "or I should have scrupled about interrupting anything so pleasant."
"You do not think it pleasant, confess, Miss Randolph," said De Saussure, drawing near to look over the progress of my work.
"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 in my 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 a lady who sat down regularly to eat sugar-plums three or four times a day and the last thing before going to bed? and who evidently could not live without them."
"But why not take a sugar-plum, or a cigar, as well as other things - wine, or fruit, for instance?" said Marshall.
"It is an indulgence - but we all allow ourselves indulgences of one sort or another."
"Besides, with a lady it is different," said De Saussure. "We poor fellows have nothing better to do, half the time."
I had no wish to lecture Mr. De Saussure, but I could not help looking 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, Miss Randolph, if we can secure your company and approbation. It will just take the day; and I propose that each one of us shall go prepared to instruct the others, at luncheon, as to his or her views of the worthiest thing a man can do with his life; - cigars being banished."
"Cigars are not banished yet," said Ransom, taking delicate whiffs of his own, which sent a fragrant wreath of blue smoke curling 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 they laughed again, our two friends with sparkling eyes.
"Look here, Daisy!" said Ransom, suddenly bringing down his chair on four feet and sitting upright, - "I wish you would put an end to this indulgence of sight-seeing and your society, and send these gentlemen home with me. I must go, and they ought to go too and do their duty. A word from you would send either of them straight to Beauregard's headquarters. Talk of indulgences!"
"I do not wish to send either of them there," was my incautious answer.
"Do you think it is always wrong to fight?" De Saussure asked.
I said no, with an internal shiver running through me from head to foot. They went into a mutual gratulation on the causes for fighting that existed on the part of the Southern States, and the certainty that the warlike spirit of the North would "die off like a big fungus," as one of them phrased it. I could not discuss the point with them, and I got away as soon 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. Anxieties which had lain pretty still, and pain which had been rather quiet, rose up together and shook me. My Bible reading had given me a word which for a time helped the confusion. "No man that 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 my heart and soul were in a whirl of them; I might say, in a snarl. And true the words were. How could I please Him who had chosen me to be a soldier, with my heart set on my own pleasure, and busy with my own fears? I knew I could not. The quiet subjection of spirit with which I left Washington, I had in a measure lost at Lucerne. Somehow, opposition had roused me; and the great distance and the impossibility of hearing had made my imagination restless; and the near probability that mamma would not favour our wishes had caused me to take a sort of life and death grasp of them. The management of myself, that I had resigned, I found I had not resigned it; but my heart was stretching out yearning hands to Thorold and crying for a sight of him. Meanwhile, the particular work that I had to do in Switzerland had been little thought of. What was it?
I spent that night waking. My room looked not to the lake, but over an extent of greensward and orchards, lit up now by a bright moon. I knelt at my window, with a strong recollection of former times, and a vain look back at my little old self, the childish Daisy, whose window at Melbourne, over the honeysuckles, had been so well used and had entertained such a quiet little heart. Then there had been Miss Pinshon's Daisy; but all the Daisies that I could remember had been quiet compared to this one. Must joy take such close hold on sorrow? Must hopes always be twin with such fears? - I asked amid bitter tears. But tears do one good; and after a little indulgence 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 sorrow or joy, that I should fail in anything to discern the Lord's will, or be unready, or be slow, to do it. Not so but that my heart should be free, looking to God for its chief strength and joy always and everywhere, - yes, and holding my hopes at his hand, to be given up if he called them back. With Thorold parted from me, in the thick of the war struggle, almost certain to be rejected by both my father and my mother, could I have and keep such a disentangled heart? The command said yes, and I knew there were promises that said yes too; but for a time I was strangely unwilling. I had a sort of superstitious feeling, that the giving up of my will about these things, and of my will's hold of them, would be a preliminary 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 not crowned, except he strive lawfully."
"God's way is the way," I said to myself, - "and there is no other. I know, in what I said to mamma that afternoon about dressing and going into the world, it was not all principle. There was a mixture of selfish disinclination to go into society, because of Mr. Thorold and my feeling about him. My thoughts and will are all in a tangle; and they must be disentangled."
The struggle was long and sore that night. Worse than in Washington; because here I was alone among those who did not favour Mr. Thorold, and were opposed in everything to his and my views and wishes. Temptation said, that it was forsaking their cause, to give up my will about them. But there is no temptation that takes us and God has not provided a way of escape. The struggle was sharp; but when the dawn broke over the orchards and replaced the glory of the moonlight, my heart was quiet again. I was bent, before all things, upon doing the will of God; and had given up myself and all my hopes entirely to His disposal. They were not less dear hopes for that, though now the rest of my heart was on something better; on something which by no change or contingency can disappoint or fail. I was disentangled. I stood free. And I was happier than I had been in many a long day. "The peace of God." If people could only possibly know what that means!
The expedition to Annecy had been determined on, and papa and mamma were to go. I went in a carriage with them, while the others were on horseback; so I had a nice quiet time, which suited me; a time of curious secret enjoyment. It seemed as if a gratulation came to me from every blade of grass and every ray of sunlight; because I was a servant of God, and as wholly given up to do His will as they were. There was communion between them and me. Of those "ministers of His, that do His pleasure," I would be one; to do what He had for me to do in the world, should be my care and joy at once; and the care of myself - I left it to Him. One goes light when one does not carry that burden.
"Daisy, you are dreadfully sober," said mamma.
"Notdreadfully, mamma, I hope," I said with a smile.
"You are pale too," she went on. "Mr. Randolph, Daisy thinks too much."
"It is an old weakness of hers," said papa. "I am afraid it is beyond our reach, Felicia."
"I will break it up for to-day," said mamma as the carriage stopped and Mr. De Saussure came to the steps. "Charles, Daisy has got into a brown study. I give her to you in charge, not to allow anything of the sort again till we get home. And order 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 he said, to help about the luncheon. It was soon spread out of doors, beneath the shade of some large trees, and we gathered round it in holiday mood. Bread was sweet, with that page of beauty spread out before my eyes all the time; - for between the boles of the trees and under their hanging branches I could see the glittering waters of the lake and a bit of its distant shore. I did not go into a brown study, however, not wishing to give occasion to Mr. De Saussure's good offices. I thought he had quite enough enjoyed his charge during the business before luncheon. To my disappointment, after the meal papa declared himself tired and went to lie down.
"We have forgotten our agreement," said Mr. De Saussure. "At luncheon, we were all to tell, Mrs. Randolph, what we think the worthiest thing to live for."
"Were we?" said mamma. "That sounds like one of Daisy's problems."
"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 to me," mamma said.
"Do I not know it already? Pour la patrie, - does anything go before that in your mind? Honestly, Mrs. Randolph, - is it not in your opinion the worthiest thing anybody can do, to fight, or to die - still better, - for the independence of the South?"
"You do not think so," said mamma, "or you would be there."
"I am selfish, and have selfish hopes and fears. But you think so?"
"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 the question?"
"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 it would be, To please God."
"But that is not an answer, pardon me. Of course, the Supreme Being is pleased to see people following the worthiest object; and the question is, What is theworthiest?"
I did not like to hear Mr. De Saussure's tongue touch themes where it was not at home. The conversation was too serious for light handling; but I could not get out of it.
"You will find that my answer includes all," I said. "It is impossible to lay down a rule, as to particulars, that will fit all cases. It is the best thing one man can do, to lay down his life for his country; the best thing another man can do is to stay at home and devote himself to the care of an infirm 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 our childish days.
"Yes," I said slowly, - "I do; but not the praise of men, which is so often mistaken. The glory that comes from God, -thatis worth living for."
"What an incomprehensible girl you are!" Ransom answered impatiently.
"She'll mend -" said mamma.
"But, Miss Randolph," said Mr. Marshall, "the care of infirm relatives, a father or a mother, can anything make that unworthy?"
"Not in itself," I said; "but suppose a man's duty calls him away? It might. You can suppose such a case."
"I see what I have to expect," mamma said with a laugh. "Daisy will take care of me, until some duty calls her away. I will not count upon you, Daisy, any longer than that. De Saussure, what isyourestimate of life's objects? On honour, now!"
"I can think of nothing better than to live for somebody that one loves," he said.
"I knew you would say that," she rejoined. "Hugh, what do you say?"
"I need to go to school, Mrs. Randolph."
"Well, go to school to Daisy," said mamma with another light laugh. "And come, let us walk, or we shall not have time. Eugne 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, but just then it was the only thing to do. My mother and Ransom and Hugh Marshall were presently some little distance behind, an interval separating us; and Mr. De Saussure and I followed the shores of the lake, taking such counsel together as our somewhat diverse moods made possible. I was thinking, what a life of hard work the two prophets Elijah must have known in their time; he who was first of the name, and his greater successor, John the Baptist. Each of them worked alone, against a universal tide of adverse evil that flooded the land. If I found it so sorrowful to be alone in my family and society, what must they have felt with the whole world against them. And Elijah's spirit did once give out, brave as he was: "It is enough, O Lord; take away my life." I thought I could understand it. To be all alone; to have no sympathy in what is dearest to you; to face opposition and scorn and ridicule and contumely while trying to do people good and bring them to good; to have only God on your side, with the bitter consciousness that those whom you love best are arrayed against him; your family and country; - I suppose nobody can tell how hard that is to endure, but he who has tasted it. My taste of it was light indeed; but a half hour with Miss Cardigan would have been inexpressibly good to me that day. So I thought, as I walked along the bank of the lake with Mr. De Saussure; and then I remembered "my hiding-place and my shield."
"You are very silent to-day, Miss Randolph," said my companion at length. I may remark, in passing, thathehad not been.
"It is enough to look, and to think," I answered, "with such a sight before one's eyes."
"Do you know," said he, "such independence of all the exterior world, - of mortals, I mean, - is very tantalising to those disregarded mortals?"
"Do you find it so? It is fair then to presume, in a place like this, that what takes up my attention has not so much charm for you."
"That is severe!" he said. "Do you think I do not see all this beauty before us? But pardon me, - haveyouseen it?"
"I have tasted it every step of the way, Mr. De Saussure."
"I am rebuked," he said. "You must excuse me - I had counted upon the pleasure of seeing you enjoy it."
"One's enjoyment is not always heightened by giving it expression," I said.
"No, I know that is your theory - or practice," he said. "My sisters are always so vehement in their praises of anything they like, that nobody else has a chance to know whether he likes it or not. I generally incline to thenot."
I added no remark upon Mr. De Saussure's or his sisters' peculiar way of enjoying themselves.
"But youareuncommonly silent," he went on presently; - "triste,rêveuse. It is impossible not to suffer from it, - in one who values your words as much as I do."
"Why, I thought you were apt to look upon things from a different point of view, - not from mine," I said.
"I must be wrong then - always. Miss Randolph, you are of a gentle 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 not have you a day older."
"I shall be that to-morrow," I said, laughing.
"But if you were mine," he said, changing his tone, "every day would only add to your power and your qualifications for doing me 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 stopping short in our walk.
"Try what, Mr. De Saussure?" I said, beginning to be bewildered.
"Surely you know! You are a little cruel. But you have the right. Be my Mentor - be my darling - promise to be, one of these days, my wife."
I dropped my arm from Mr. De Saussure's and stood in a maze, I might say with truth, frightened. Up to that minute, no suspicion of his purpose or mind regarding me had entered my thoughts. I suppose I was more blind than I ought to have been; and the truth was, that in the utter preoccupation of my own heart, the idea that I could like anybody else but Mr. Thorold, or that anybody else could like me, had been simply out of sight. I knew myself so thoroughly beyond anybody's reach, the prior possession of the ground was so perfect and settled a thing, that I did not remember it was a fact hidden from other eyes but mine. And I had gone on in my supposed walled-in safety; - and here was somebody presuming within the walls, who might allege that I had left the gate open. However, to do Mr. De Saussure justice, I never doubted for a moment that his heart might be in any danger of breaking if I thrust him out. But for all that, I lost my breath in the first minute of discovery of what I had been doing.
"You hesitate," said he. "You shall command me, Daisy. I will go instantly, hard as it would be, and give all my power to furthering the war at home; - or, if you bid me, I will keep out of it, which would be harder still, were you not here instead 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; - I never thought you had any other feeling; and I had no other towards you."
"Mrs. Randolphismy friend," he said eagerly. "She does me the honour to wish well to my suit. She looks at it, not with my eyes, but with the eyes of prudence; and she sees the advantages that such an arrangement would secure. I believe she looks at it with patriotic eyes too. You know my estates are nearly adjoining to yours. I may say too, that our families are worthy one of another. But there, I am very conscious, my worthiness ends. I am not personally deserving of your regard - I can only promise under your guidance to become so."
A light broke upon me.
"Mr. De Saussure" - I began; but he said hastily, "Let us go on - they are coming near us;" and I took his offered arm again, not wishing more than he to have spectators or hearers of our talk; and now that the talk was begun, I wished to end it.
"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; or something very like it. I am making no jest. I am no heiress - as people think."
"But you confound me, Miss Randolph," he said, looking both curious and incredulous. "May I ask, what can be the explanation of your words? I know your Magnolia property - and it 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 be very 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 a difficulty. Against your word I have the word of two others - your mother and your brother, who both assure me of the contrary. May it not be, that they know best?"
"No, Mr. De Saussure; for the fact depends on something out of their 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 your honour to keep silence about it. I am a friend of the coloured people."
"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 said gently.
"It is at their expense," I repeated. "I do not choose to be rich so. And the religion I live by, forbids me to do to others as I would not like they should do to me."
"I am sure, by that rule, your dependants at Magnolia would implore you not to give them over to other hands. They will never have so kind a mistress. Don't you see?" he said with the same insinuating gentleness.
"I shall give them over to no other hands. I would make them as 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."
"ItisMrs. Randolph's daughter," I said, withdrawing my hand from his arm. "I pray you not to forget it."
"Pray, forgive me!" he said eagerly. "I was bewildered, and am yet. I did not know where I was. It seems to me I cannot have heard you aright."
"Quite right, Mr. De Saussure."
"But just reflect!" he said. "These creatures, whose cause you are advocating, they are but half human; they cannot take care of themselves; their very happiness is identified with their present position."
"It is not the view they take of it."
"They are incapable of forming any judgment on the matter."
"At least they know whattheymean by happiness," I said; "and in their mouths it is not a synonym with slavery. And if your words are true, Mr. De Saussure, in the case of some of those poor people, - and I know they are, - it is one of the worst things that can be said of the system. If some of them are brought so low as to be content with being slaves, we have robbed them of their humanity."
"It is absolutely Northern radicalism!" said Mr. De Saussure to himself.
"No," I said, - "it is Christian justice and mercy."
"You will allow me to represent to you, without any presumption, that there are very many Christians, both at the South and North, who do not look at the matter with your eyes."
"I suppose they have never really seen it," I answered sadly. "People that have always lived close to something, often do not know what it is. My father has never seen it - nor, my mother.Ihave."
"They would not agree with you; your views would not harmonise with theirs."
"And therefore I trust to your honour to keep silence respecting mine."
"I am bound," he answered gloomily; and we walked a few minutes in silence.
"You will change your manner of thinking, Miss Randolph," he began again. "Yours is the vision of inexperienced eyes and of impulsive generosity. It will not remain what it is."
"Inexperienced eyes see the clearest," I answered. "The habit of 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 break every yoke, to do as I would be done by, to look not on my own things, but also on the things of others. We owe our poor people not liberty only, but education, and every advantage for restored civilisation; - a great long debt."
"And is this the reason why you will not look favourably on my suit?" 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 no chance with you. If this matter were not in the way, would you have any kindness for me, Daisy? Is this all that separates us?"
"It is quite enough, Mr. De Saussure. It is as powerful with you 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 tell him he could never have been early enough. I was silent; and we walked on unenjoyingly. Vexation was working in his countenance, and a trace of that same spite; I was glad when we came to the end of our way and the other members of our party closed up and joined us.
As I cared nothing for the house they had come to see, I excused myself from going any nearer, and sat down upon the bank at a little distance while they gratified their curiosity. The view of the lake and lake shores here was very lovely; enough to satisfy any one for a long while; but now, my thoughts only rested there for a minute, to make a spring clear 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 one could think of taking his place. I saw I had been a simpleton. Up to that day I had no suspicion that Mr. De Saussure liked me more than would be convenient; and indeed I had no fear now of his heart being broken; but I saw that his unlucky suit made a complication in my affairs that they certainly did not need. - Mamma approved it; yes, I had no doubt of that. I knew of a plantation of his, Briery Bank, only a few miles distant from Magnolia and reputed to be very rich in its incomings. And, no doubt Mr. De Saussure would have liked the neighbourhood of Magnolia, and to add its harvest to his own. And all the while I belonged to Mr. Thorold, and nobody else could have me. My thoughts came back to that refrain with a strong sense of pain and gladness. However, the gladness was the strongest. How lovely the lake was, with its sunlit hills!
In the midst of my musings, Hugh Marshall came and threw himself on the ground at my side. I welcomed him with a smile; for I liked him; he was a friend; and I thought, - This one does not want me at any rate. I was a great simpleton, I suppose.
"I was afraid you had deserted me to-day," he said.
"I am sure, it is I who might rather have thought that of you," I answered; and indeed I had wished for his company more than 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," he replied.
"Cigars? -" I suggested.
"No indeed. If you disapprove of them, I shall have no more fellowship with them."
"That is going quite too far, Mr. Marshall. A man should never give 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 might be 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 more pleased to have you follow your own sense of right than any notion of another, even of myself."
"You are not like any other woman I ever saw," he said smiling. "Do you know, they all have a passion for command? There are De Saussure's mother and sisters, - they do not leave him a moment's peace, because he is not at home fighting."
I was silent, and hoped that Mr. De Saussure's friends might now perhaps get him away from Geneva at least.
"You think with them, that he ought to go?" Hugh Marshall said presently 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 will depend on my taking such a course, and doing all I can to help on the Confederacy."
"Yes, I know," I said rather sadly; "mamma feels very strongly about 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; and you ought to do what you yourself think right, Mr. Marshall; not what either of us thinks."
"What doyouthink is right?" he repeated eagerly.
"My thoughts do not make or unmake anything."
"They make - they will make, if you will let them - the rule of my life," he answered. "I have no dearer wish."
I was struck with dismay.
"Please do not say that!" I said trembling. "My thoughts should 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 be to please you, as long as he has a life to give to it. - Will you take mine?" he said after a pause and in a lower tone. "I offer 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 of it, the pain I must give, the mischief it might do, I saw it all at once. For a while, I could not find words to speak. Hugh studied my face, and must have seen no ground of hope there, for he did not speak either. He was quite silent and left it to me. Oh, Lake of Annecy! what pain comes to me now with the remembrance of your sweet waters.
I turned at last and laid my hand upon Hugh's arm. He did not mistake me; he took my hand in his, and stood looking at me with 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 be friends, 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 I could."
"It is I who have made a mistake," he said, as he dropped my hand.
"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 give it to you, Hugh. But, I cannot."
"Then it will come," said he, taking my hand again; "if you can say that, it will come. I will wait."
"No, it will not come," I said, as we looked one another in the 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. He let go my hand again.
"Then, I understand," - he said. "Shall we go? I believe it is time."
"Where is mamma?" I asked, looking about in some bewilderment now.
"Mrs. Randolph and the rest have gone on; they are some distance ahead of us by this time."
And what were they all thinking too, by this time! In great dismay I turned to go after them with my unwelcome companion. We walked in silence; I blaming myself greatly for stupidness and blindness and selfish preoccupation, which had made me look at nobody's affairs but my own; and grieving sadly too for the mischief I had done.
"Mayn't we be friends, Mr. Marshall?" I said somewhat timidly at last; for I could not bear the silence.
"I can never be anything else," he said. "You may always command me. But I have not misunderstood you, Daisy? You meant to tell me that -some onehas been more fortunate than I, and been beforehand with me ?"
"I did not mean to tell you that," I said in a good deal of confusion.
"But it is true ?" he said, looking searchingly at me.
"Nobody knows it, Hugh," I said. "Not my mother nor my father."
The silence fell again and again became painful. The others of our party were well in advance. - We caught no glimpse of them yet.
"We will be friends, Mr. Marshall?" - I said anxiously.
"Yes, we will be friends, Daisy; but I cannot be a friend near you. I cannot see you any longer. I shall be a wreck now, I suppose. 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 of a servant of God. Won't you, Hugh? Then you will come to true joy, and honour - the joy and honour that God gives. Let me have 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 voice roughened 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 one to stretch out one's hand for it," he answered. "The rose has as much design!"
He turned aside hastily, stooped for a little twig that lay on the roadside, and began assiduously breaking it up. And the silence was not interrupted again, till we came in sight of our friends in advance of us, leisurely walking to let us come up. Then Hugh and I plunged into conversation; but what it was about I have not the least remembrance. It lasted though, till we joined company with the rest of our party, and the talk became general. Still I do not know what we talked about. I had a feeling of thunder in the air, though the very stillness of sunlight beauty was on the smooth water and the hilly shore; and I saw clouds rising and gathering, even though Mont Blanc as we returned that evening showed rosy hues to its very summit in the clear heaven. I can hardly tell how, my mother's manner or something in it, made me sure both of the clouds and the thunder. It was full of grace, tact and spirit, to such a point of admiration. Yet I read in it, yes, and in that very grace and spirit, a certain state of the nervous powers which told of excitement at work, or a fund of determination gathering; the electric forces massing somewhere; and this luminous play only foretold the lightning.
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 the red cashmere scarf she had wrapped round her. I remember how happy and easy the folds of her drapery were, and how I noticed her graceful slow movements, Surely grace is a natural attribute of power, even though power be not always graceful; at least any uncertainty of meaning or manner is fatal to gracefulness. There was no uncertainty about mamma ever, unless the uncertainty of carelessness; and that itself belonged to power. There was no uncertainty in any fold of her cashmere that morning; in any movement of her person, slow and reposeful as every movement was. I knew by a sort of instinct what it all meant. Indeed these were mamma's ordinary characteristics; only appearing just now with the bloom of perfection upon them. She was powerful and she knew it; I knew myself naturally no match for her. It was always very hard for me to withstand mamma. Nothing but the sense of right ever gave me courage to do it. But striving for the right, the Christian is not at his own charges, and has other strength than 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 of careless significance. "I will have another bit of chicken, if you please, Mr. Randolph."
"What is she thinking of?"
"Girls' thoughts are unfathomable," said mamma.
"Isit 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 my parents against the other, was what it would never answer to do, even if I could have done it. I felt alone; but I was as quiet as mamma. I had not so good an appetite.
In the course of the morning she had me up stairs to consider the matter of dresses and fashions; and we were turning over a quantity of laces and jewels. Mamma tried one and another set of 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 age never do. That is where mothers are useful, I suppose. Which is it to be, Daisy?"
"I do not want either, mamma."
"Yes; that is of course too. But which do you like best, of the 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 was thinking 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 my question, - 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, if you do not mean about jewels; and of them, as I said, I should prefer neither."
"You may choose and refuse among jewels," said my mother, - "and refuse and choose; but among some other things it is necessary 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 I should know?"
"Please explain yourself, mamma."
"Hugh Marshall, then, and Charles De Saussure. What is your mind 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 them must I like a little more than very well, Daisy?"
"Mamma? -"
"Whoever owns and possesses you, I should wish to like very much. 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 first young men I know, and has one of the finest estates - close by yours, Daisy."
"Estates are nothing in such a matter, mamma."
"That is like saying that pearls and rubies are nothing on such a skin as yours," said mamma laughing. "But you may think of the men, Daisy, and I will think of the estates; that is allen règle."
"I do not wish to think of these men, mamma."
"It is late in the day to say that. You must have thought of them both, Daisy, and long ago."
"It never entered my head till yesterday, mamma, that either of them liked me."
"You must have seen it for weeks past."
"I did not, mamma, - I never thought of such a thing as possible, till yesterday."
"Is it a possible thing," said mamma, "that a daughter of mine can 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 most unaccountably encouraged the addresses of these gentlemen - and seeing that you did, so have I; - now, to clear both yourself and me, let your preference be made known. It need not take you long to make your mind up, I suppose."
"I am very sorry, mamma. I have done wrong; I have been very foolish; but I cannot do worse. I do not like either of these gentlemen well enough for what you mean."
"If you have done wrong, you can mend it," said mamma. "Liking will come fast enough, Daisy; a girl like you does not think she can like anybody but her father and mother; she finds out her mistake in time. So will you. I will decide for you, if you have no choice. Charles De Saussure is my friend, and I think he is most of a man of the two. I will tell Charles that you 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's wife. Don't tell me a word against it, Daisy, for I will not hear you. I do not like Marshall as well, myself, but his property is even larger, I believe; and as I am not in love, I may be allowed to think of such things. It is away over on the Mississippi; but we cannot help that. I will make Hugh happy to-day, and then - you shall, Daisy."
"No, mamma, - never. It cannot be."
"It must, Daisy. You have compromised yourself, and me. You have allowed these gentlemen's attentions; you have been seen everywhere with them; you owe it to yourself and them to declare your choice of one of them now. You must make up your mind to it. If you are not in love, it cannot be helped; that will 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 that are wells of sweetness for somebody - for all down they go, - a mouth that has smiles enough for somebody, - though it trembles, - and what does this rose leaf mean, that is stealing over every one of your two cheeks? it is a witness to somebody, 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 in despair.
"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 skill enough to find outwhichof them; but you know, and that is sufficient. And they must know too; there can be no more of this three-cornered game. It is time to put an end to it. I have read you, if you have not read yourself; and now, my child, you must be content to let the rose blossom, that you keep so carefully folded up in its green leaves. One of these gentlemen will leave us presently; and the other, whichever it is, I shall consider and treat as your acknowledged suitor; and somust you, Daisy. He will be going home to the war, he too, in a short time more; and he must go with the distinct understanding that when the war is over, you will reward him as he wants to be rewarded. Not; till then, child. You will have time enough to think about it."
My mother had shut my lips. I was afraid to say anything good or bad. She had read me; yes, I felt that she had, when she looked into my face and touched my cheeks and kissed my lips, which I knew well enough were trembling, as she had said. She had read me, all but the name in my heart. What if she had read that? The least movement now on my part might bring it to the light; what if it came? I did not know what then, and I was greatly afraid. An old awe of my mother and sense of her power, as well as knowledge of her invincible determination, filled me with doubt and fear. She might write to Mr. Thorold at once and forbid him ever to think of me; she might send him word that I was engaged to Mr. De Saussure. And indeed I might also possibly clear my own action to Mr. Thorold; but change hers, never. My faith failed, I believe. I was like Abraham when he went into Egypt and feared somebody would kill him to get possession of his wife. I did not, like him, resort to a fiction for my safety; but neither did I trust God and dare tell the truth.
My own will was as good as mamma's. I was not afraid of weakly yielding some time or other; I was only afraid of her outside measures.
She resumed her occupation of trying laces and jewels on me; finally laughed, chucked me under the chin, kissed me, called me a pretty goose, and bade me go and dress myself "for whomever I liked best." I went to my room to have the heartache.
I had given up the management of myself; I was not struggling now; I knew there would be a way out of all my perplexities some time; but nevertheless my heart ached. I did dress myself, however, for that is an important part of a woman's work; and I went down stairs with a vague hope in my heart that I might see Hugh and somehow enlist him on my side, so far at least as to make him delay his departure; though I could not imagine how I could ask it, nor what I could say to him of any sort that would benefit me or that would not do him harm. But I thought in vain. I did not see him. Mr. De Saussure came, and played chess with me all the evening. I played very ill, and he won every game, till I thought he would stop for the very stupidness of it.
Some painful days followed that day; during which mamma managed to make me accept Mr. De Saussure's attentions in public and in private. She managed it; I could not escape them without making a violent protest, and I did not of course choose that. Hugh Marshall was gone; he had come only to take a hurried leave of us; suddenly obliged to return home, he said; "he had lingered too long." Mr. De Saussure's eyes flashed with I triumph; every line of mamma's face (to me) expressed satisfaction, of course gracefully concealed from everybody else. But Hugh and I parted with a great grasp of the hand, which I am sure came from both our hearts and left mine very sore. Then he was gone. After that, Mr. De Saussure took Hugh's place and his own too in our little society; and for a few days things went on in a train which I knew was preparing mischief.
Then one night the explosion came. We were out on the lake in a boat; mamma, Mr. De Saussure, and I; we had gone to see the colours come and go on the great head of Mont Blanc. In the glory of the sight, I had forgotten who was with me and where I was, for the moment; and I was thinking of the colours and lights of the New Jerusalem, than which those before me seemed scarcely less unearthly. Thinking, with a pang at the distance between; with a longing for those pure heights where human life never casts its flickering shadow; with a cry for Thorold in my heart, whom every sight of joy or beauty was sure to bring before me. I was rudely recalled from my momentary dream, 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 satisfaction of kissing your hand. I suppose he would have liked a little more, but I have only promised the hand."
"I have explained myself to Mr. De Saussure, mamma; he is under no mistake."
"So I have told him. He could not ask more than you have given him; but leaving us for a long while, Daisy, and on such a service, a little further grace would not be ill bestowed. I shall give him leave, if you do not," she added laughing; "and I may give him more than you would like, Daisy."
I think at that minute I felt as if I would like to make one spring out of this world and all its confusions into that other world I had been thinking of; but one does not get quit of one's troubles so easily. That minute on the Lake of Geneva was one of theugliestI have ever known. Mamma was smooth and determined; Mr. De Saussure looked triumphant and expectant; for a moment my heart shrank, but I do not think I showed it outwardly.
"Daisy -" said mamma, smiling.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Mr. De Saussure is waiting. Will you speak the word? - or shall 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 I am rejoiced to find I didnotunderstand you at a former conversation we held together. Mrs. Randolph has been my kind interpreter. You will notnowrefuse me?" he said, as he endeavoured to insinuate his fingers into mine.
"Kiss her, Charles!" said mamma; "she is a coy girl. I give you leave."
And before I could anticipate or prevent it, Mr. De Saussure's arm was round me and the salute was given. I think mamma really thought she could bestow me away as she pleased. I am sure she had no idea of the nature she was combating. Nobody had ever withstood her successfully; she did not think that I could be the first. But this little thing - it was not a little thing to me at the time - cut the knot of my difficulties. Released from Mr. De Saussure's encircling arm, I removed myself to the other side of the boat and drew my shawl round me. I do not know what significance was in my action, 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 she moved herself.
"Daisy will acknowledge I had liberty," Mr. De Saussure repeated.
"Mamma," I said, "don't you think it is growing chill?"
"Row us home, Charles," said my mother. "And, Daisy, don't be a 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 laughing but vexed. "She is a woman."
"I hope she will grant me forgiveness," he said. "She must remember, IthoughtI had liberty."
"I shall not forget," I answered. "I understand, that respect for me failed before respect for my mother."
"But! -" he began.
"Be quiet, Charles," my mother interrupted him. "Pull us to shore; 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 in profound silence. I knew mamma was terribly vexed, but at the same time I was secretly overjoyed; for I saw that she yielded to 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 moody style, and then went away and I saw him no more. During those days I had nothing to do with him. But my mother had almost as little to do with me. She was greatly offended; and also, I saw, very much surprised. The woman Daisy could not be quite the ductile thing the child Daisy had been. I took refuge with papa whenever I could.
"What is all this about De Saussure and Marshall?" he asked one 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, you know, 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 Saussure will."
"And not Marshall?"
"I do not know about him."
"What didyoudo, 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 with sending them home?"
"Nothing, papa, - only that I unfortunately did not want them to stay."
"And you could not offer them any reward for going?"
"Papa, a man who would do such a thing forreward, would not be a man."
"I think so too, Daisy. Your mother somehow takes a different view."
"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; and our life became, I must confess, less varied and pleasant after the young men had gone. At first I felt only the relief; then the dulness began to creep in. Papa led the life of an invalid, or of one who had been an invalid; not an active life in any way; I thought, not active enough for his good. Some hours I got of reading with him; reading to him, and talking of what we read; they did my father good, and me too; but they were few, and often cut short. As soon as mamma joined us, our books had to be laid aside. They bored her, she said, or hindered her own reading; and she and papa played draughts and chess and piquet. Mamma was not in a bored state at other times; for she was busy with letters and plans and arrangements, always in a leisurely way, but yet busy. It was a sort of business with which I had no sympathy, and which therefore left me out. The cause of the South was not my cause; and the discussion of toilettes, fashions, costumes and society 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 little in common. Mamma held me aloof, ever since Mr. De Saussure's departure; and I only knew indirectly, as it were, that she was planning a social campaign for me and meditating over adornments and advantages which should help to make it triumphant. Life in this way was not altogether enjoyable. The only conversation which could be said to be general among us, was on the subject of home affairs in America. That rung in my ears every day.
"Glorious news, sir!" cried Ransom one day as he came in to dinner. "Glorious news! The first real news we have had in a long time."
"What is it?" said my father; and "What, Ransom?" my mother asked, with a kindling eye. My heart sank. Those know who remember those times, how one's heart used to sink when news came.
"What is it, Ransom?"
"Why, a large body of them, the Yankees, got across the Potomac the night of the 20th; got in a nest of our sharpshooters and were well riddled; then, when they couldn't stand it any longer, they fell back to the river and tried to get across again to the other side, where they came from; and they had no means of getting across, nothing but a couple of old scows; so they went into the water to get away from the fire, and quantities of them were drowned, and those that were not drowned were shot. Lost a great many, and their commanding officer killed. That's the way. They'll have enough of it in time. The war'll be over in a few weeks or months more. De Saussure will not have time to raise his regiment. I don't think, mamma, it's any use for me to go home, it'll be over so soon."
"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 speak of. But the thing is, they will lose heart. They will never stand this sort of thing. They have no officers, you know, and they can have no soldiers. They will be obliged to give up."
Words were in my heart, but my lips knew better than to speak them.Hadthey no officers? Had Christian no soldiers under him? My head was ready to believe it; my heart refused. Yet I thought too I had seen at the North the stuff that soldiers are made of.
"If I were you," said my mother, "I would not let it all be over before I had a part in it."
"The war is not ended yet, Felicia," my father remarked; "and it will take more than a few hard knocks to make them give up."
"They have had nothing but hard knocks, sir, since it began,"Ransom cried.
"Your father always takes a medium view of everything," my mother said. "If it depended on him, I believe there would be no war."
"I should have one other vote for peace," papa said, looking at 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 ceases to be gentle."
"Must not every woman wish for peace?" I said. It was an unhappy attempt at a diversion, and if I had not been in a hurry I should not have made it.
"No," my mother answered, not sharply, but with cold distinctness. "Before the South should submit to the dictation or reproof of Northern boors and fanatics, I would take a musket 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 a laugh, "Mamma, Daisy's blood has grown thin at the North. She is 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. I could not get accustomed to these things, with all the practice I had.
"No fire in her?" said papa, calmly. "There is ammunition enough, Ransom. I don't want to see the fire, for my part. I am glad there is one of us that keeps cool. My darling, you look 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 all to laughing.
"The carmine is coming in again," said mamma. "I profess I do not understand you, Daisy."
I was afraid she began to suspect me.
It was very true that mamma did not understand me; and it was the unhappiness of my life. I tried hard to narrow the distance between us, by every opportunity that the days or the hours gave; and a certain accord was after a time established anew in our relations with each other. Mamma again took to adorning and playing with me; again studied my toilettes and superintended my dressing; made me as exquisite as herself in all outward paraphernalia. I let her alone; in this at least I could gratify her; and no occasion of gratifying her was to be lost. Papa was pleased too, though I think it made less difference to him what I was dressed in; yet he observed me, and smiled in a way to show his pleasure whenever a new device of mamma's produced a new effect. She sought society for herself and me now. We removed from Geneva and went to Florence. I was thankful it was not to Paris. Every foot of Italy had great charms for me; and I dreamed over Florence, with a delighted fancy that never grew tired or tame. That my evenings were spent in what I did not care for, could not spoil my days. Our walks and drives, which papa and I often now took alone, were delicious beyond expression. I forgot the whirl of the night before and of the evening to come, and I was the child Daisy again, I think, in very much. At night mamma had me.