"Papa! "
This one word was rich in expression; joy and love so filled it. Daisy added nothing more. She put her arms round her father's neck as he stooped his lips to her face, held him fast and returned his kisses.
"Cannot you sleep?" The question was very tenderly put.
"I did sleep, papa."
"I did not wake you?"
"No, papa. I was awake, looking at the moonlight."
"Pain would not let you sleep, my poor darling?"
The sympathy was a little too trying. Tears started to the child's eyes. She said with a most gentle, loving accent, "I don't mind, papa. It will be better by and by. I am very happy."
An indignant question as to the happiness which had been so rudely shaken, was on Mr. Randolph's lips. He remembered Daisy must not be excited; nevertheless, he wondered, for he saw the child's eyes full, and knew that the brow was drawn with pain; and the poor little thin face was as white as a sheet. What did she mean by talking about being happy?
"Daisy, I have brought you some oranges."
"Thank you, papa! May I have one now?"
Silently, and almost sternly, Mr. Randolph stood and pared the orange with a fruit knife he had thought to bring that too and fed Daisy with it, bit by bit. It was pleasant and novel to Daisy to have her father serve her so; generally others had done it when there had been occasion. Mr. Randolph did it nicely, while his thoughts worked.
"What are you going to do to-night, papa?" she said, when the orange was finished and he stood looking at her.
"Stay here with you."
"But, papa, how can you sleep?"
"I can do without sleeping, if it is necessary. I will take a chair here in the doorway, and be near if you want anything."
"Oh, I shall not want anything, papa, except what Juanita can give me."
He stood still, watching her. Daisy looked up at him with a loving face; a wise little face it always was; it was gravely considerate now.
"Papa, I am afraid you will be uncomfortable."
"Can nobody bear that but you?" said Mr. Randolph, stooping down to kiss her.
"I am very happy, papa," said the child, placidly; while a slight tension of her forehead witnessed to the shooting pains with which the whole wounded limb seemed to be filled.
"If Mr. Randolph pleases," said the voice of Juanita, "the doctor recommended quiet, sir."
Off went Mr. Randolph at that, as if he knew it very well, and had forgotten himself. He took a chair, and set it in the open doorway, using the door-post as a rest for his head; and then the cottage was silent. The wind breathed more gently; the stars shone out; the air was soft after the storm; the moonlight made a bright flicker of light and shade over all the outer world. Now and then a grasshopper chirruped, or a little bird murmured a few twittering notes at being disturbed in its sleep; and then came a soft sigh from Daisy.
On noiseless foot the black woman stole to the couch. Daisy was weeping; her tears were pouring out and making a great wet spot on her pillow.
"Is my love in pain?" whispered the black woman.
"It's nothing I can't help it," said Daisy.
"Where is it in the foot?"
"It's all over, I think; in my head and everywhere. Hush,Juanita; never mind."
Mrs. Benoit, however, tried the soothing effect of a long gentle brushing of Daisy's head. This lasted till Daisy said she could bear it no longer. She was restless.
"Will my love hear a hymn?"
"It will wake papa."
Mrs. Benoit cared nothing for that. Her care was her poor little charge. She began immediately one of the hymns that were always ready on her tongue, and which were wonderfully soothing to Daisy. Juanita was old, but her voice was sweet yet and clear; and she sang with a deal of quiet spirit.
"A few more days or years at most,My troubles sell be o'er;I hope to join the heavenly hostOn Canaan's happy shore.My raptured soul shall drink and feastIn love's unbounded sea;The glorious hope of endless restIs ravishing to me."
Mr. Randolph raised his head from leaning against the door- post, and turned it to listen; with a look of lowering impatience. The screen of the hanging curtain was between him and the couch, and the look did nobody any harm.
"Oh, come, my Saviour, come away,And bear me to the sky!Nor let thy chariot wheels delayMake haste and bring it nigh:I long to see Thy glorious face,And in Thy image shine;To triumph in victorious grace,And be forever Thine."
Mr. Randolph's chair here grated inharmoniously on the floor, as if he were moving; but Juanita went on without heeding it.
"Then will I tune my harp of goldTo my eternal King.Through ages that can ne'er be toldI'll make Thy praises ring.All hail, eternal Son of God,Who died on Calvary!Who bought me with His precious blood,From endless misery."
Mr. Randolph stood by Mrs. Benoit's chair. "My good woman," he said, in suppressed tones, "this is a strange way to put a patient to sleep."
"As your honour sees!" replied the black woman, placidly.
Mr. Randolph looked. Daisy's eyes were closed; the knitted brow had smoothed itself out in slumber; the deep breath told how profound was the need that weakness and weariness had made. He stood still. The black woman's hand softly drew the curtain between Daisy's face and the moonlight, and then she noiselessly withdrew herself almost out of sight, to a low seat in a corner. So Mr. Randolph betook himself to his station in the doorway; and whether he slept or no, the hours of the night stole on quietly. The breeze died down; the moon and the stars shone steadily over the lower world; and Daisy slept, and her two watchers were still. By and by, another light began to break in the eastern horizon, and the stars grew pale. The morning had come.
The birds were twittering in the branches before Daisy awoke. At the first stir she made, her father and Mrs. Benoit were instantly at her side. Mr. Randolph bent over her, and asked tenderly how she felt.
"I feel hot, papa."
"Everybody must do that," said Mr. Randolph. "The breeze has died away, and the morning is very close."
"Papa, have you been awake all night?"
He stooped down and kissed her.
"You must go home and get some breakfast, and go to sleep,"Daisy said, looking at him lovingly with her languid eyes.
"Shall I bring you anything from home, Daisy?" he said, kissing her again.
The child looked a little wistfully, but presently said no; and Mr. Randolph left her, to do as she had said. Mrs. Benoit was privately glad to have him out of the way. She brought water, and bathed Daisy's face and hands, and gave her a delicate breakfast of orange; and contrived to be a long while about it all, so as to rest and refresh her as much as possible. But when it was all done, Daisy was very hot and weary and in much pain. And the sun was only in the tops of the trees yet. The black woman stood considering her.
"It will be a hot day, Miss Daisy and my little lady is suffering already, when the dew is not dried off the grass. Can she say, 'Thank the Lord'?"
Daisy first smiled at her; then the little pale face grew grave, the eyelids fell, and the black woman saw tears gathering beneath them. She stood looking somewhat anxiously down at the child; till, after a few minutes, the eyelids were raised again, and the eyes gave her a most meek and loving response, while Daisy said faintly, "Yes, Juanita."
"Bless the Lord!" said Juanita, with all her heart. "Then my love can bear it, the hot day and the pain and all. When His little child trust Him, Jesus not stay far off. And when He giveth quietness, then who can make trouble?"
"But I have a particular reason, Juanita. I am very glad of my hurt foot; though it does ache."
"The aching will not be so bad by and by," said the woman, her kindly face all working with emotion.
She stood there by Daisy's couch and prayed. No bathing nor breakfast could so soothe and refresh Daisy as that prayer. While she listened and joined in it, the feeling of yesterday came all back again; that wonderful feeling that the Lord Jesus loves even the little ones that love Him; that He will not let a hair of their heads be hurt; that He is near, and keeps them, and is bringing them to Himself by everything that He lets happen to them.
Greatly refreshed and comforted, Daisy lay quiet looking out of the open window, while Juanita was busy about, making a fire and filling her kettle for breakfast. She had promised Daisy a cup of tea and a piece of toast; and Daisy was very fond of a cup of tea, and did not ordinarily get it; but Mrs. Benoit said it would be good for her now. The fire was made in a little out-shed, back of the cottage, where it would do nobody any harm, even in hot weather.
Daisy was so quieted and comforted, though her leg was still aching, that she was able to look out and take some pleasure in the sparkling morning light which glittered on the leaves of the trees and on the blades of grass; and to hearken to the birds which were singing in high feather all around the cottage. The robins especially were very busy, whistling about in and under the trees; and a kildeer, quite near, from time to time sung its soft sweet song; so soft and tender, it seemed every time to say in Daisy's ears, "What if I am sick and in pain and weary? Jesus sends it and He knows and He is my dear Saviour." It brought the tears into Daisy's eyes at length; the song of the kildeer came so close home into her heart.
Juanita had gone to make the tea. While the kettle had been coming to a boil, she had put her little cottage into the nicest of order; and even filled a glass with some roses and set it on the little table. For, as she said to Daisy, they would have company enough that day, and must be in trim. She had gone now to make the tea, and Daisy lay contentedly looking out of the window, when she heard the swift tread of horses' feet again. Could her father be back from Melbourne already? Daisy could not raise herself up to look. She heard the feet stop in the road before the cottage; then listened for somebody's step coming up to it. She heard the step, but it was none of Mr. Randolph's; it was brisk and firm and measured. She guessed it was somebody's step whose feet had been trained.
Juanita came to open the door at the knock, and Daisy heard her saying something about the doctor's orders, and keeping quiet, and no excitement. Daisy could not stand that.
"Oh, Captain Drummond come in! come in!" she cried. And in came the Captain. He looked wonderfully sober at his poor little playfellow. But Daisy looked all smiles at him.
"Is your furlough over? Are you going, Captain Drummond?"
"I am off, Daisy."
"I am so glad you came to see me," she said, putting out her little hand to him.
The Captain took it, and held it, and seemed almost unable to speak. "Daisy, I would have run the risk of being cashiered, rather than not have done it."
"What is that?"
"Cashiered? Having my epaulettes pulled off."
"Do you care a great deal for your epaulettes?" said Daisy.
The Captain laughed, with the water standing in his eyes. Yes, absolutely, his bright sparkling eyes had drops in them.
"Daisy, I have brought you our land fish that we had such trouble for."
"The trilobite! Oh, did you?" exclaimed Daisy, as he placed it before her. "I wanted to see it again, but I was afraid you wouldn't have time before you went." She looked at it eagerly.
"Keep it Daisy; and keep a little bit of friendship for me with it will you? in case we meet again some day."
"Oh, Captain Drummond don't you want it?"
"No; but I want you to remember the conditions."
"When will you come to Melbourne again?"
"Can't say, Daisy; I am afraid, not till you will have got the kingdom of England quite out of all its difficulties. We were just going into the battle of Hastings, you know; don't you recollect?"
"How nice that was!" said Daisy, regretfully. "I don't think I shall ever forget about the Saxon Heptarchy, and Egbert, and Alfred."
"How about forgetting me?"
"You know I couldn't," said Daisy, with a most genial smile. "Oh, Captain Drummond!" she added, as a flash of sudden thought crossed her face.
"What now, Daisy?"
The child looked at him with a most earnest, inquisitive wistful gaze. The Captain had some difficulty to stand it.
"Oh, Captain Drummond," she repeated, "are you going to be ashamed of Christ?"
The young soldier was strangely enough confused by this simple question. His embarrassment was even evident. He hesitated for a reply, and it did not readily come. When it came, it was an evasion.
"That is right, Daisy," he said; "stand by your colours. He is a poor soldier that carries them behind his back in the face of the enemy. But whatever field you die in, I should like to be alongside of you."
He spoke gravely. And he asked no leave this time, but, clasping Daisy's hand, he bent down and kissed her forehead twice, and earnestly; then he did not say another word, but strode away. A little flush rose on Daisy's brow, for she was a very particular little lady as to who touched her; however she listened attentively to the sound of the retreating hoofs which carried the Captain off along the road; and when Juanita at last came in with her little tray and a cup of tea, she found Daisy's face set in a very thoughtful mood, and her eyes full of tears. The face did not even brighten at her approach.
"Miss Daisy," said the black woman, "I thought you wanted a cup of tea?"
"So I do, Juanita. I want it very much."
Mrs. Benoit made remarks to herself upon the wise little face that met her with such a sober greeting. However, she made none aloud; she supported Daisy nicely with one arm, and set the little tray before her. The tea was excellent; the toast was in dainty, delicate, thin brown strips. Daisy took it soberly.
"Does it seem good to my love?"
"Oh, yes, Juanita!" said the child, looking up gratefully; "it is very good; and you make the prettiest toast I ever saw."
The black woman smiled, and bade her eat it, and not look at it.
"But I think it tastes better for looking pretty, Juanita."
"The Lord knows," said the woman; "and He made the trees in the garden of Eden to be pleasant to the eyes, as well as good for food."
"I am glad He did," said Daisy. "How pleasant the trees have been to my eyes this morning. Then I was sick, and could not do anything but look at them; but they are pleasant to my eyes too when I am well. It is very painful to have one's friends go away, Juanita."
"Has my love lost friends?" said Mrs. Benoit, wondering at this speech.
"Yes," said Daisy. "Mr. Dinwiddie is gone; and now CaptainDrummond. I have got hardly anybody left."
"Was Mr. Dinwiddie Miss Daisy's friend?"
Such a bright, warm, glad flash of a smile as Juanita got in answer! It spoke for the friendship on one side.
"But he is gone," said Daisy. "I wish I could see him again.He is gone, and I never shall!"
"Now, Miss Daisy, you will lie still and be quiet, my love, until somebody else comes. The doctor says that's the way. ]Mr. Dinwiddie is about his Master's work, wherever he is; and you want to do the same."
"How can I, Juanita, lying here? I cannot do anything."
"Does my love think the good Lord ever give His servants no work to do for Him?"
"Whyhere, Juanita I can only lie here and be still. What can I do?"
"My love pray the dear Master to show her; and now not talk just now." Daisy lay still.
The next comer was the doctor. He came while the morning was still early; made his examinations; and Daisy made hers. He was a very fine-looking man, Thick locks of auburn hair, thrown back from his face; a noble and grave countenance; blue eyes, keen and steady; and a free and noble carriage; there was enough about Dr. Sandford to engage all Daisy's attention and interest. She gave him both, in her quiet way; while he looked not so much at her as at her condition and requirements.
"It is going to be a hot day," he remarked to Juanita, who attended upon him. "Keep her quiet. Do not let more than one other person be here at once. Say I order it."
"Will his honour say it to Miss Daisy's father and mother?"
"I shall not see them this morning. You are armed with my authority, Juanita. Nobody is to be here to talk and excite her; and only one at a time beside you. Have you got fruit for her? Let her live on that as much as she likes; and keep the house empty."
"I will tell papa," said Daisy.
"How do you do?" said the doctor. It was the first question he had addressed to her; and the first attention he had given her otherwise than as a patient. Now the two looked at each other.
"I am better, a little, thank you," said the child. "May I ask something?"
"Ask it."
"Shall I be a long while here?"
"You will be a week or two till your foot gets strong again."
"Will a week or two make it strong?"
The two pairs of eyes looked into each other. The thoughtful grey eyes of the child, and the impenetrable blue orbs of the man. There was mutual study; some mutual recognition.
"You must be a good child and try to bear it."
"Will you come and see me again?" said Daisy.
"Do you desire it?"
"You would not come unless it was necessary," said Daisy; "and if it is necessary, I should like to have you."
The lips of the young man curled into a smile that was very pleasant, albeit a little mocking in its character.
"I think it will be necessary, little one; but if I come to see you, you must be under my orders."
"Well, I am," said Daisy.
"Keep still, then; do not talk to anybody any more than is needful to relieve your impatience."
The doctor went away, and Daisy lay still musing. The morning had gone on a little further, when carriage-wheels stopped at the gate.
"There's mamma " said Daisy.
It was very unconsciously on her part that the tone of these two words conveyed a whole volume of information to Juanita's keen wits. It was no accent of joy, like that which had announced her father last night; neither was it fear or dread; yet the indefinable expression of the two words said that "mamma" had been a trouble in Daisy's life, and might be again.
Juanita went to have the door open; and the lady swept in. Mr. Randolph was behind her. She came to Daisy's side, and the mother and child looked at each other; Daisy with the tender, wistful eyes of last night, Mrs. Randolph with a vexed air of dissatisfaction. Yet, after looking at her a moment, she stooped down and kissed Daisy. The child's eye went to her father then. Mrs. Randolph stood in his way; he came round to the head of the couch, behind Daisy, and bent over her.
"Papa, I can't see you there."
"You can feel, Daisy " said Mr. Randolph, putting his lips to her face. "How do you do?"
"This is a most maladroit arrangement of Captain Drummond's!" said the lady. "What can we do to rectify it? A most stupid place for the child to be."
"She will have to bear the stupidity and we too. Daisy, what would you like to have to help it along."
"Papa, I am not stupid."
"You will be, my little daughter, I am afraid, before the weeks are over. Will you have June come to be with you?"
"Papa," said Daisy, slowly, "I think it would not be considerate."
"Are you comfortable?" said Mr. Randolph, smiling, though his looks expressed much concern.
"No, papa."
"What is the matter?"
"It is hot, papa; and my leg aches; not so much as it did last night sometimes; but it aches."
"It is a cool, fresh morning," said Mrs. Randolph. "She is hot because she is lying in this place."
"Not very cool, with the mercury at eighty-four before eight o'clock You are cool because you have been driving fast."
"Mr. Randolph, this is no proper place for the child to be. I am convinced she might be moved with safety."
"I cannot risk the doctor's convictions against yours,Felicia. That question must be given up."
"He says I am under his orders, papa."
"Undeniable, Daisy. That is true doctrine. What orders does he give you?"
"To eat fruit, and keep quiet, papa. He says there must not be more than one person here at a time, besides Juanita."
"I suppose he does not mean to forbid your mother," said Mrs. Randolph, a good deal incensed. "I will see about that. Here, my good woman where are you? Will you let your cottage to me for the time that this child is confined here and remove somewhere else yourself, that I may put the people here I want about her?"
"Oh, mamma! " said Daisy. But she stopped short; and Mrs. Randolph did not attend to her. Mr. Randolph looked round to see Juanita's answer.
"My lady shall put here who she will please," the woman said, standing before her visitors with the most unruffled face and demeanour.
"And you will leave me the house at once?"
"No, my lady. My lady shall have the house. Juanita will not be in the way."
"You do not seem to understand, my good woman, that I want to be here myself, and have my people here. I want the whole house."
"My lady shall have it she is welcome nobody shall find Juanita trouble them," the black woman said, with great sweetness.
"What will you do with yourself?"
"A little place be enough for me, my lady. My spirit lives in a large home."
Mrs. Randolph turned impatiently away. The manner of the woman was so inexpressibly calm and sweet, the dignity of her beautiful presence was so immovable, that the lady felt it in vain to waste words upon her. Juanita was a hopeless case.
"It is no use for me to be here then," she said. "Mr.Randolph, you may make your own arrangements."
Which Mr. Randolph did. He held a consultation with Juanita, as to what was wanting, and what she would do; a consultation with which he was satisfied. Juanita was left in full charge, with authority to do for Daisy precisely according to Dr. Sandford's instructions, in all matters. Mrs. Randolph meanwhile had a talk with her poor pale little daughter, upon more or less the same subjects; and then the father and mother prepared to go home to breakfast.
"Shall I send you June?" said Mrs. Randolph.
"No, mamma; I think not."
"Be patient a little while, Daisy," said her father, kissing her; "and you will be able to have books and company too. Now for a little while you must keep quiet."
"Juanita will keep me quiet, papa."
"I will come and see you again by and by."
"Papa, I want to tell you one thing. I want to speak to you and mamma before you go."
Mr. Randolph saw that the child's face flushed as if she were making some effort. He bent down over her again.
"Is it something of interest, Daisy?"
"Yes, papa. To me."
"Don't talk of it now then. Lie still, and do not talk at all.By and by you will tell me what it is."
Mr. and Mrs. Randolph departed.
"Daisy will be ruined forever!" So said the lady as soon as she was in the carriage.
"I hope not."
"You take it coolly, Mr. Randolph. That woman is exactly the sort to infect Daisy; and you have arranged it so that she will have full chance."
"What is the precise danger you apprehend?" said Mr. Randolph."I have not heard it put into words."
"Daisy will be unmanageable. She is nearly that now."
"I never saw a more docile child in my life."
"That is because you take her part, Mr. Randolph. You will find it out in time, when it is too late; and it will be your own doing."
"What?"
"Daisy will be a confirmed piece of superstition. You will see. And you will not find her docile then. If she once takes hold of anything, she does it with great obstinacy."
"But what is she taking hold of now? After all, you do not tell me," said Mr. Randolph, carelessly.
"Of every sort of religious fanatical notion, you will find, Mr. Randolph! She will set herself against everything I want her to do, after the fashion of those people, who think nothing is right but their own way. It will be a work of extreme difficulty, I foresee, to do anything with her after these weeks in this black woman's house. I would have run any risk in removing her, rather than let it be so."
"Well, we shall see," said Mr. Randolph. "I cannot quite take your view of the matter. I would rather keep the child even for my own private comfort than lose her to prevent her from becoming religious."
Mrs. Randolph indignantly let this statement of opinion alone.
Little Daisy had a quiet day, meanwhile. The weather grew excessively hot; her broken ankle pained her; it was a day of suffering. Obliged to lie quite still; unable to change her position even a little, when the couch became very hot under her; no air coming in at the open window but what seemed laden with the heats of a furnace, Daisy lay still, and breathed as well as she could. All day Juanita was busy about her; moistening her lips with orange juice, bathing her hands, fanning her, and speaking and singing sweet words to her, as she could attend to them. The child's eyes began to go to the fine black face that hovered near her, with an expression of love and trust that was beautiful to behold. It was a day that tried poor little Daisy's patience; for along with all this heat, and weary lying still in one position, there were shoots and twitches of pain that seemed to come from the broken ankle and reach every part of her body; and she could not move about or turn over to ease them by some change.
At last the weary hours began to grow less oppressive. The sun got low in the sky; the air came with a little touch of freshness. How good it was to see the sun lost behind the woods on the other side the road. Juanita kindled her fire again, and put on the kettle; for Daisy was to have another cup of tea, and wanted it very much. Then, before the kettle had boiled, came the doctor.
It was a pleasant variety. Dr. Sandford's face was a good one to see come in anywhere, and in Daisy's case very refreshing. It was so noble a face; the features fine, manly, expressive; with a sedate gravity that spoke of a character above trifling. His calm, forceful eye was very imposing; the thick auburn locks of his hair, pushed back as they were from his face, were beautiful to Daisy's imagination. Altogether he fastened her attention whenever he came within reach of it; she could not read those grave lines of his face; she puzzled over them. Dr. Sandford's appearance was in some way bewitching to her. Truly many ladies found it so.
He examined now the state of her foot; gave rapid comprehensive glances at everything; told his orders to Mrs. Benoit. Finally, paused before going, and looked into the very wise little eyes that scanned him so carefully.
"Is there anything you want, Daisy?" he said, with a physician's familiarity.
"No, sir, I thank you."
"Mrs. Benoit takes good care of you?"
"Very good."
The manner of Daisy's speech was like her looks; childlike enough, and yet with a deliberate utterance unlike a child.
"What do you think about, as you lie there all day?" he said.
The question had been put with a somewhat careless curiosity; but at that he saw a pink flush rise and spread itself all over Daisy's pale face; the grey eyes looked at him steadily, with no doubt of some thoughts behind them. Dr. Sandford listened for her answer. What was the child thinking about? She spoke at last with that same sweet deliberateness.
"I have been thinking, Dr. Sandford, about what Jesus did for me."
"What was that?" said the doctor, in considerable surprise.
"Because it was so hard for me to keep still to-day, I thought you know how it must have been " The flush deepened on the cheeks, and Daisy's eyes were swimming full of tears.
Dr. Sandford looked, in much surprise; perhaps he was at some pains to comprehend what all this meant.
"How it must have been when?" said he, bending over Daisy's couch.
"You know, Dr. Sandford," she said, tenderly. "When He was on the cross and couldn't move "
Daisy gave way. She put her hands over her face. The doctor stood erect, looking at her; glanced his grave eyes at Mrs. Benoit, and at her again; then made a step towards Juanita.
"No excitement is permitted," he said. "You must keep her from it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Juanita said. But her face was all alight.
"Have you been reading some of those stories to her?"
"I have not been reading to her at all to-day, if his honour pleases."
"Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, coming back to the couch, "what put such thoughts into your head?"
"I felt so badly to-day." She spoke with her usual collectedness again.
"Well, try and not mind it. You will feel better in a day or two. Do you know when that happened that you were talking about?"
"Yes, sir."
"When was it?"
"More than eighteen hundred years ago."
"Do you think it is worth your while to be troubled for what happened eighteen hundred years ago?"
"I think it is just the same as if it happened now," saidDaisy, without moving her eyes.
"Do you? By what power of reasoning?"
"I don't think I know how to reason," said Daisy. "It is feeling."
"How does feeling manage it?"
Daisy discerned the tone of the question, looked at her questioner, and answered with tender seriousness: "I know the Lord Jesus did that for me; and I know He is in heaven now."
The doctor kept silence a minute. "Daisy," said he, "you are under my orders at present. You must mind me. You are to take a cup of tea, and a piece of toast, if you like; then you are to go to sleep and keep quiet, and not think of anything that happened more than an hour ago. Will you?"
"I will try to be quiet," said Daisy.
She and the doctor looked at each other in a dissatisfied manner, she wistfully, he disapprovingly, and then the doctor went out. Daisy's eyes followed, straining after him as long as they could; and when she could see him no longer they filled with tears again. She was looking as intent and wistful as if she might have been thirty years old instead of nine or ten, when Juanita came to her side with the tea she had been making.
The tea and toast did Daisy good; and she was ready to enjoy a visit from her father, who spent the evening with her. But he would not let her talk.
The next day was hot again; however, Daisy felt better. The heat was more bearable. It was a very quiet day. Both she and Juanita obeyed orders, and did not talk much; nevertheless, Juanita sang hymns a great deal, and that was delightful to Daisy. She found Juanita knew one hymn in particular that she loved exceedingly; it was the one that had been sung in the little church the day she had heard Mr. Dinwiddie preach; it fell in with the course of Daisy's thoughts; and several times in the day she had Juanita sing it over. Daisy's eyes always filled when she heard it; nevertheless Juanita could not resist her pleading wish.
"Oh, the Lamb! the loving Lamb!The Lamb on Calvary!The Lamb that was slain, but lives again,To intercede for me."
"I am so happy, Juanita," Daisy said, after one of these times. "I am so happy!"
"What makes it so, my love?"
"Oh, because that is true because He lives up there to take care of me."
"Bless the Lord!" said the black woman.
Towards evening of that day, Juanita had left the room to make her fire and attend to some other things, when Daisy heard her own name hailed softly from the window. She turned her head, and there was Preston's bright face.
"My poor, poor little Daisy!"
"How do you do, Preston?" said Daisy, looking as clear as a moonbeam.
"There you are a prisoner!"
"It is a very nice prison."
"Don't, my dear Daisy! I'll believe you in anything else, you know; but in this I am unable. Tied by your foot for six weeks, perhaps! I should like to shoot Captain Drummond."
"It was not Captain Drummond's fault."
"Is it bad, Daisy?"
"My foot? It has been pretty bad."
"Poor Daisy! And that was all because you would not sing."
"Because I would not sing, Preston!"
"Yes, that is the cause of all the trouble that has been in the house. Now, Daisy, you'll give it up?"
"Give what up?"
"Give up your nonsense, and sing."
"That?" said Daisy, and a slight flush came into the pale cheeks.
"Aunt Felicia wants you to sing it, and she will make you do it, when you get well."
Daisy made no answer.
"Don't you see, my dear Daisy, it is foolish not to do as other people do?"
"I don't see what my broken ankle has to do with what you are saying, Preston."
"Daisy, what will become of you all these six weeks? We cannot go a fishing, nor have any fun."
"You can."
"What will you do?"
"I guess I can have books and read, by and by. I will ask Dr.Sandford."
"Suppose I bring some books, and read to you?"
"Oh, Preston! how nice."
"Well, I'll do it then. What shall I bring?"
"I wish you could bring something that would tell about these things."
"These things? What is that?"
"It is a trilobite. Captain Drummond got it the other day. It was a fish once, and now it is a stone; and I would like very much to know about it."
"Daisy, are you serious?"
"Why, yes, Preston."
"My dear little Daisy, donotyou go and be a philosopher!"
"Why, I can't; but why shouldn't I?"
"Philosophers are not 'nice,' Daisy, when they are ladies," said Preston, shaking his head.
"Why not?"
"Because ladies are not meant to be philosophers."
"But I want to know about trilobites," said Daisy.
"I don't think you do. You would not find the study of fossils interesting."
"I think I should if you would help me, Preston."
"Well, we will see, Daisy. I will do anything for you, if you will do one thing for me. Oh, Daisy, do! Aunt Felicia has not given it up at all."
"Good-bye, Preston," said Daisy. "Now you must go, and not talk to me any more this time."
Preston ran off.
He was not allowed to come again for a day or two; and Daisy was not allowed to talk. She was kept very quiet, until it was found that the broken bone was actually healing, and in a fair way to get well. The pains in it were no longer so trying; the very hot days had given place to a time of milder weather; and Daisy, under the care of the old black woman, enjoyed her solitary imprisonment well enough. Twice a day always her father visited her; once a day, Mrs. Randolph. Her stay was never very long; Juanita's house was not a comfortable place for her; but Mr. Randolph gave a large piece of his time and attention to his suffering little daughter, and was indeed the first one to execute Preston's plan of reading aloud for her amusement. A new and great delight to Daisy. She never remembered her father taking such pains with her before. Then, when her father and mother were gone, and the cottage was still, Juanita and Daisy had what the latter called their "good time." Juanita read the Bible and sang hymns, and prayed. There was no time nor pleasure in all the day that Daisy liked so well.
She had gained strength, and was in a good way to be well again. The first morning this was told her, Daisy said: "Papa, may I speak to you now?"
"About something important, Daisy?"
"Yes, papa, I think so."
"Go on. What is it?"
Juanita was standing near by. The child glanced at her, then at her father.
"Papa," she said, speaking slowly, and with some hesitation, "I want you to know I want to tell you about me, so that you may understand."
"Are you so difficult to understand, Daisy?"
"No, papa; but I want you to know something. I want you to know that I am a Christian."
"Well, so are we all," said Mr. Randolph, coolly.
"No, papa, but I don't mean that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, papa, that I belong to the Lord Jesus, and must do what He tells me."
"What am I to understand by that, Daisy?"
"Nothing, papa; only I thought you ought to know."
"Do you understand what you are saying yourself, my child?"
"Yes, papa."
"What does it mean, Daisy?"
"Only, papa, I want you to know that I belong to the LordJesus."
"Does that imply that you will not belong to me any more?"
"Oh, no, papa!"
"Why do you tell it me, then?"
"Papa, Jesus says He will be ashamed of those who are ashamed of Him; I will not be ashamed of Him; so I want you to know what I am."
"But, Daisy, you and I must come to an understanding about this," said Mr. Randolph, taking a chair. "Does this declaration mean that you are intending to be something different from what I like to see you?"
"I do not know, papa."
"You do not! Does it mean that you are proposing to set up a standard of action for yourself, independent of me?"
"No, papa."
"What then, Daisy?"
"Papa, I do not quite know what you mean by astandard."
"I will change the word. Do you mean that your purpose is to make, henceforward, your own rules of life?"
"No, papa; I do not mean that."
"What do you mean?"
"Papa," said Daisy, very deliberately, "if I belong to mySaviour, you know, I must follow His rules."
"Daisy, I shall not cease to require obedience to mine."
"No, papa, but " said Daisy, colouring.
"But what?"
"I don't know very well how to say what I want, papa; it is difficult."
"Try."
"Papa, you will not be displeased?"
"That depends upon what you have to say, Daisy."
"Papa, I do notmeanto displease you," said the child, her eyes filling with tears. "But suppose "
"Well, suppose anything."
"Supposethoserules should be different from your rules?"
"I am to be the judge, Daisy. If you set up disobedience to me, on any pretext, you know the consequences."
Daisy's lip trembled; she put up her hands to her face, and burst into tears. She could not bear that reminder. Her father took one of her hands down, and kissed the little wet cheek.
"Where are you going to find these rules, Daisy," he said, kindly, "which you are going to set up against mine?"
"Papa, I do not set them up."
"Where do you get them?"
"Only in the Bible, papa."
"You are a little child, Daisy; you are not quite old enough to be able to judge properly for yourself what the rules of that book are. While you are little and ignorant, I am your judge, of that and everything else; and your business is to obey me. Do you understand that?"
"But, papa."
"Well what?"
"Papa, I am afraid you will be angry."
"I do not think I shall. You and I had better come to an understanding about these matters Say on, Daisy."
"I was going to say, papa "
Daisy was afraid to tell what. Mr. Randolph again stooped and kissed her; kissed her two or three times.
"Papa, I do notmeanto make you angry," said the child, with intense eagerness, "but suppose papa, I mean, are you a servant of the Lord Jesus?"
Mr. Randolph drew back. "I endeavour to do my duty, Daisy," he said, coldly. "I do not know what you include in the terms you use."
"Papa, that is what I mean," said Daisy, with a very meek face. "Papa, if Iam, and you arenot, then perhaps you would not think the things that I think."
"If you are, and I am not, what?"
"That, papa which I wanted you to know I am. A servant of Jesus."
"Then, what?"
"Then, papa, if I am, and you are not, wouldn't you perhaps not think about those rules as I must think of them?"
"You mean that our thoughts would disagree?"
"Papa they might."
"What shall we do, then, Daisy?"
Daisy looked wistfully and somewhat sadly at him. There was more weight of thought under the little brow than he liked to see there. This would not do; yet matters must be settled.
"Do you want to be a different little person from what you have been, Daisy, hitherto?"
"I don't know, papa I think so."
"How do you wish to be different?"
"I can't tell, papa. I might have to be."
"I want you just as you are, Daisy."
Mr. Randolph stooped his head down again to the too thoughtful little face. Daisy clasped her arms around his neck, and held him close. It was only by her extraordinary self-command that she kept from tears; when he raised his head her eyes were perfectly dry.
"Will you be my good little Daisy and let me do the thinking for you?" said Mr. Randolph, tenderly.
"Papa Ican't."
"I will not have you different from what I like you, Daisy."
"Then, papa, what shall I do?"
"Obey me, and be satisfied with that."
"But, papa, I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ," said the child, looking unutterably sober.
"I do not intend my commands shall conflict with any of higher authority."
"Papa suppose theymight?"
"I must be judge. You are a little child; you must take the law from my mouth, until you are older."
"But, papa, suppose Ithoughtthe Bible told me to do what you did not think it said?"
"I advise you to believe my judgment, Daisy, if you wish to keep the peace between us. I will not have any more calling of it in question."
Daisy struggled plainly, though she would not cry; her colour flushed, her lip quivered. She was entirely silent for a little while, and Mr. Randolph sat watching her. The struggle lasted some minutes till she had overcome it somewhat she would not speak and it was sharp. Then the child closed her eyes, and her face grew calm. Mr. Randolph did not know what to think of her.
"Daisy."
"What, papa?"
"I do not think we have settled this question yet."
"I do not think we have, papa."
"What is to be done? It will not answer, my little daughter, for you to set up your will against mine."
"Papa, it is not my will."
"What do you call it, then?"
"Papa, it is not my will at all. It is the will of God."
"Take care, Daisy," said her father. "You are not to say that. My will will never oppose itself to that authority you speak of."
"Papa, I only want to obey that."
"But remember, I must be the judge."
"Papa," said Daisy, eagerly, "won't this do? If I think something is in the Bible, mayn't I bring it to you to see?"
"Yes."
"And if you think itisthere, then will you let me do it?"
"Do what?"
"Do what the Bible says, papa."
"I think I may promise that, Daisy," said Mr. Randolph; though dubiously, as not quite certain what he was promising; "so long as I am the judge."
"Then that will do, papa! That is nice."
Daisy's countenance expressed such utter content at this arrangement, that Mr. Randolph looked grave.
"Now you have talked and excited yourself enough for to-day," he said. "You must be quiet."
"Mayn't I tell mamma when she comes?"
"What, Daisy?"
"I mean what I have told you, papa."
"No. Wait till to-morrow. Why do you wish to tell her, Daisy?"
"Papa, I think I ought to tell her. I want her to know."
"You have very uncompromising notions of duty. But this duty can wait till another day."
Daisy had to wait more than a day for her opportunity; her mother's next visits were too bustling and unsatisfactory, as well as too short, to promise her any good chance of being heard. At last came a propitious morning. It was more moderate weather; Daisy herself was doing very well, and suffering little pain; and Mrs. Randolph looked in good humour, and had sat down with her tetting-work, as if she meant to make her daughter something of a visit. Mr. Randolph was lounging at the head of the couch, out of Daisy's sight.
"Mamma," began the child, "there is something I wish to say to you."
"You have a favourable opportunity, Daisy. I can hear."
Yet Daisy looked a minute at the white hand that was flying the bobbin about. That white hand.
"It isn't much, mamma. It is only that I wish you to know that I am a Christian."
"That you arewhat?" said Mrs. Randolph, coldly.
"A Christian, mamma."
"Pray, what does that mean?"
"That I am a servant of Christ, mamma."
"When did you find it out, Daisy?"
"Some time ago, mamma. Some time a little while before my birth-day."
"You did! What do you thinkme?"
Daisy kept silence.
"Well! why don't you speak? Answer me."
"Mamma, I don't know how to answer you," said Daisy, flushing for an instant. Her mother's eyes took note of her.
"I shall not ask you a third time, Daisy."
"Mamma," said the child low, "I do not think you are what I mean by a Christian."
"You do not. I supposed that. Now you will go on and tell me what you mean by a Christian."
"It means," said Daisy, her eyes filling with tears, "it means a person who loves the Lord Jesus and obeys Him."
"I hope you are gratified, Mr. Randolph," said the lady, "with this specimen of the new Christianity. Dutiful and respectful are happily united; along with a pleasant mixture of modesty. What do you expect me to do, Daisy, with this announcement of yours?"
"Nothing, mamma," said Daisy, faintly.
"I suppose you think that my Christianity must accommodate itself to yours? Did you expect that?"
"No, mamma."
"It would be very foolish of you; for the fact will be the other way. Yours must accommodate itself to mine."
"I only wanted you to know what mine is, mamma."
"Yours is what mine is, Daisy. What I think right for you, that you are to do. I will not hear a whimper from you again about what you are do you understand? Not again. I have listened to you this time, but this is the last. If I hear another syllable like this, about what you are or your Christianity, I shall know how to chastise it out of you. You are nothing at all, but my Daisy; you are a Jewess, if I choose to have it so."
Mr. Randolph made an uneasy movement; but the lady's white fingers flew in and out of her tetting-work without regarding him.
"What do you want to do, that you are asking my permission in this roundabout way? What do you want to do, that you think will not please me."
Daisy at first hesitated; then Mr. Randolph was surprised to hear her say boldly, "I am afraid, a great many things, mamma."
"Well, you know now what to expect. Mr. Randolph," said the lady, letting fall her tetting-work, "if you please, I will go home. The sun will only be getting hotter, if I stay."
Mr. Randolph stood behind Daisy, bending down, and holding her face in his two hands.
"What would you like me to send you from home, Daisy?"
"Nothing, papa."
"Would you like to have Preston come and see you?"
"If he likes to come, papa."
"He has been only waiting for my permission, and if you say so, I will give him yours."
"He may come. I should like to see him very much."
"You may have books too, now, Daisy. Do you not want some books?"
"I should like 'Sandford and Merton,' papa; and when Preston comes I'll tell him what else I want."
Mr. Randolph stood still, smoothing down the hair on each side of the little round head, while Mrs. Randolph was adjusting herself for her drive.
"Are you ready, Mr. Randolph?"
"Cannot say that I am," said the gentleman, stooping to kiss Daisy's forehead, "but I will go with you. One thing I should like understood. For reasons which are sufficient with me, Daisy is to consider herself prohibited from making any music on Sundays henceforward, except she chooses to do it in church. I mention it, lest you should ask her to do what I have forbidden, and so make confusion."
Mrs. Randolph gave no sort of answer to this speech, and walked off to the door. Daisy, whose eyes had brightened with joy, clasped her arms around her father's neck when he stooped again, and whispered, with an energetic pressure, "Thank you, papa!"
Mr. Randolph only kissed her, and went off after his wife. The drive home was remarkably silent.
It happened that day that Juanita had business on hand which kept her a good deal of the morning in the out-shed which formed part of her premises. She came in every now and then to see how Daisy was doing; yet the morning was on the whole spent by Daisy alone; and when Juanita at last came in to stay, she fancied the child was looking pale and worn more than usual.
"My love do not feel well?"
"Yes I do, Juanita I am only tired. Have you done washing?"
"It is all done. I am ready for whatever my love pleases."
"Isn't washing very disagreeable work, Juanita?"
"I do not think what it be, while it is mine," the woman said, contentedly. "All is good work that I can do for the Lord."
"Butthatwork, Juanita? How can you do that work so?"
"When the Lord gives work, He give it to be done for Him.Bless the Lord!"
"I do not understand, though, Juanita. Please tell me. How can you?"
"Miss Daisy, I don't know. I can do it with pleasure, because it is my Lord's command. I can do it with thanksgiving, because He has given me the strength and the power. And I can do it the best I can, so as nobody shall find fault in His servant. And then, Miss Daisy, I can do it to get money to send His blessed word to them that sit in darkness where I come from. And I can do it with prayer, asking my Lord to make my heart clean for His glory; like as I make soiled things white again. And I do it with joy, because I know the Lord hear my prayer."
"I think you are very happy, Juanita," said Daisy.
"When the Lord leads to living fountains of waters, then no more thirsting," said the black woman, expressively.
"Then, Juanita, I suppose if I get tired lying here, I can do patience-work?"
"Jesus will have His people do a great deal of that work," said Mrs. Benoit, tenderly. "And it is work that pleases Him, Miss Daisy. My love is very weary?"
"I suppose, Juanita, if I was really patient, I shouldn't be.Should I? I think I am impatient."
"My love knows who carries the lambs in His bosom."
Daisy's tired face smoothed itself out at this. She turned her eyes to the window with a placid look of rest in them.
"Jesus knows where the trouble is," said the black woman. "He knows all. And He can help too. Now I am going to get something to do Miss Daisy good."
Before this could be done, there came a heavy clumping step up to the house, and a knock at the door; and then a person entered whom Juanita did not know. A hard-featured woman, in an old-fashioned black straw bonnet, and faded old shawl drawn tight round her. She came directly forward to Daisy's couch.
"Well, I declare if it ain't true! Tied by the heels, ain't ye?" was her salutation. Juanita looked, and saw that Daisy recognised the visitor; for she smiled at her, half pleasure, half assent to what she said.
"I heerd of it that is, I heerd you'd gone up to the mountain and broke something; I couldn't find out what 'twas; and then Hephzibah she said she would go down to Melbourne Sunday. I said to her, says I, 'Hephzibah, I wouldn't go all that ways, child, for to do nothing; 'tain't likely but that some part of the story's true, if you and me can't find out which;' but Hephzibah she took her own head and went; and don't you think, she came back a cryin'?"
"What was that for?" said Daisy, looking very much interested.
"Why, she couldn't find you, I guess; and she thought you was killed. But you ain't, be you?"
"Only my foot and ankle hurt," said Daisy, smiling; "and I am doing very well now."
"And was you broke anywheres?"
"My ankle was broken."
"I declare! And you couldn't be took home?"
"No."
"So the folks said; only they said that young soldier had killed you. I hope he got hurted himself."
"Why Mrs. Harbonner,hedid not do it. It was an accident. It wasn't anybody's fault."
"It wouldn't ha' happened ifIhad been there, I can tell you!" said Hephzibah's mother. "I don't think much of a man if he ain't up to taking care of a woman; and a child above all. Now how long are you goin' to be in this fix?"
"I don't know. I suppose I shall have to lie still for four or five weeks more, before my foot is well."
"It's tiresome, I guess, ain't it?"
"Yes sometimes."
"Well, I used to think, if folks was good, things wouldn't happen to 'em. That's what I thought. That was my study of divinity. And when everything on earth happened to me, I just concluded it was because I warn't a bit too good to deserve it. Now I'm beat to see you lie there. I don't see what is the use of being good, if it don't get none."
"Oh, Mrs. Harbonner!" said Daisy, "I am glad my foot was broken."
"Well, I'm beat!" was all Mrs. Harbonner could say. "You air, be you?"
"It hasn't done me any harm at all; and it has done me a great deal of good."
Mrs. Harbonner stood staring at Daisy.
"The promise is sure," said Mrs. Benoit. "All things shall work together for good to them that love God!"
The other woman wheeled about, and looked at her for an instant with a sharp keen eye of note-taking; then she returned to Daisy.
"Well, I suppose I'll tell Hephzibah she won't see you again till summer's over; so she may as well give over thinking about it."
"Do you think Hephzibah wants to learn, Mrs. Harbonner?"
"Well, I guess she does."
"Wouldn't she come here and get her lessons? Couldn't she come to see me every day, while I am here?"
"I 'spose she'd jump out of her skin to do it," said Mrs.Harbonner. "Hephzibah's dreadful set on seeing you."
"Mrs. Benoit," said Daisy, "may I have this little girl come to see me every day, while I am here?"
"Miss Daisy shall have all, who she will," was the answer; and it was arranged so; and Mrs. Harbonner took her departure. Lingering a minute at the door, whither Juanita attended her, she made one or two enquiries and remarks about Daisy, answered civilly and briefly by Mrs. Benoit.
"Poor little toad!" said Mrs. Harbonner, drawing her shawl tight round her for the last time. "But ain't she littlequeer?"
These words were spoken in a low murmur, which just served to draw Daisy's attention. Out of sight behind the moreen curtain, Mrs. Harbonner forgot she was not beyond hearing; and Daisy's ears were good. She noticed that Juanita made no answer at all to this question, and presently shut the door.
The business of giving Daisy some fruit was the next thing attended to; in the course of eating which Daisy marvelled a little to herself what possible likeness to atoadMrs. Harbonner could have discovered in her. The comparison did not seem flattering; also she pondered somewhat why it could be that anybody found her queer. She said nothing about it; though she gave Mrs. Benoit a little account of Hephzibah, and the reason of the proposed series of visits. In the midst of this came a cheery "Daisy" at the other side of her; and turning her head, there was Preston's face at the window.
"Oh, Preston!" Daisy handed to Mrs. Benoit her unfinished saucer of strawberries "I am so glad! I have been waiting for you. Have you brought my books?"