Daisy In The Field

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."