And I did not say since when.
"And what of it?" she asked.
"Nothing -" I said, stammering a little, "but I wait."
"He's waiting, poor lad," she said. "Have ye not had letters
from him?"
"Never; not since that one I sent him through you."
"He got it, however," said Miss Cardigan; "for there was no
reason whatever why he should not. Did you think, Daisy, he
had forgotten you?"
"No, Miss Cardigan; but it was told of him that - he had
forgotten me."
"How was that done? I thought no one knew about your loving
each other, you two children."
"So I thought; but - why, Miss Cardigan, it was confidently
told in Paris to my mother that he was engaged to a schoolmate
of mine."
"Did you believe it?"
"No. But I never heard from him again, and of course papa did
believe it. How could I tell, Miss Cardigan?"
"By your faith, child. I wouldn't have Christian think you
didn't believe him, not for all the world holds."
"I did believe him," I said, feeling a rill of joy flowing
into some dry places in my heart and changing the wilderness
there. "But he was silent, and I waited."
"He was not silent, I'll answer for it," said his aunt; "but
the letters might have gone wrong, you know. That is what they
have done, somehow."
"What could have been the foundation of that story?" I
questioned.
"I just counsel ye to ask Christian, when ye see him - if
these weary wars ever let us see him. I think he'll answer
ye."
And his aunt's manner rather intimated that my answer would be
decisive. I bade her good bye, and returned along the
shadowing streets with such a play of life and hope in my
heart, as for the time changed it into a very garden of
delight. I was not the same person that had walked those ways
a few hours ago.
This jubilation, however, could not quite last. I had no
sooner got home, than mamma began to cast in doubts and fears
and frettings, till the play of the fountain was well nigh
covered over with rubbish. Yet I could feel the waters of joy
stirring underneath it all; and she said, rather in a
displeased manner, that my walk seemed to have done me a great
deal of good! and inquired where I had been. I told her, of
course; and then had to explain how I became acquainted with
Miss Cardigan; a detail which mamma heard with small
edification. Her only remark, however, made at the end, was,
"I beseech you, Daisy, do not cultivate such associations!"
"She was very good to me, mamma, when I was a schoolgirl."
"Very well, you are not a schoolgirl now."
It followed very easily, that I could see little of my dear
old friend. Mamma was suspicious of me and rarely allowed me
to go I out of her sight. We abode still at the hotel, where
we had luxurious quarters; how paid for, mamma's jewel-box
knew. It made me very uneasy to live so; for jewels, even be
they diamonds, cannot last very long after they are once
turned into gold pieces; and I knew ours went fast; but
nothing could move my mother out of her pleasure. In vain Dr.
Sandford wrote and remonstrated; and in vain I sometimes
pleaded. "The war is not going to last for ever," she would
coldly reply; "you and Dr. Sandford are two fools. The South
cannot be conquered, Daisy."