Daisy In The Field

"Now," said he, "are you fixed in the plan of devoting

yourself to the care of this ungracious cousin?"

"Of him, and of others," I said.

"He does not deserve it."

"Suppose we waited to give people their deserts, Dr.

Sandford?"

"Some people deserve to be allowed to take care of you," said

the doctor, getting up and beginning to pace up and down the

floor. "They deserve it; and find it hard work; or denied them

altogether."

"You do take care of me," I said gratefully. "You always did,

Dr. Sandford. You are doing it now; and I am thanking you all

the time in my heart."

"Well," said he abruptly, standing still before me, - "you are

one of those who are born to command; and in your case I

always find I have to obey. This room you will use as you

please; no one will share it with you; and you need a

retiring-place for a breath of rest when you can get it. I

shall see you constantly, as I am going out and in; and

anything you want you will tell me. But you will not like it,

Daisy. You can stand the sight of blood, like other women,

whose tenderness makes them strong; but you will not like some

other things. You will not like the way you will have to take

your meals in this place."

I had finished my cup of tea, and now stood up to let the

doctor take me back to my place beside Preston; which he did

without any more words. And there he left me; and I sat down

to consider my work and my surroundings. My cousin had

forgotten his impatience in sleep; and there was a sort of

lull in the business of the ward at that hour.

I found in a few minutes that it was a great comfort to me to

be there. Not since papa's death, had so peaceful a sense of

full hands and earnest living crept into my heart. My thoughts

flew once or twice to Mr. Thorold, but I called them back as

soon; I could not bear that; while at the same time I felt I

was nearer to him here than anywhere else. And my thoughts

were very soon called effectually home from my own special

concerns, by seeing that the tenant of one of the neighbouring

beds was restless and suffering from fever. A strong, fine-

looking man, flushed and nervous on a fever bed, in helpless

inactivity, with the contrast of life energies all at work and

effectively used only a little while ago, in the camp and the

battlefield. Now lying here. His fever proceeded from his

wounds, I knew, for I had seen them dressed. I went to him and

laid my hand on his forehead. I wonder what and how much there

can be in the touch of a hand. It quieted him, like a charm;

and after a while, a fan and a word or two now and then were

enough for his comfort. I did not seem to be Daisy Randolph; I

was just - the hospital nurse; and my use was to minister; and

the joy of ministering was very great.