Daisy In The Field

"What raised the anger?" said he; a different tone coming into

his own voice.

"Preston. His way of talking."

"About me?"

"Yes. I cannot get over it."

And I thought I should have broken down at that minute. My

fan-play ceased. Christian held my hand very fast, and after a

few minutes began again "Does he know you are angry, Daisy?"

"Yes, he does; for I told him as much."

"Did you tell him sharply?"

"No. I told him coldly."

"Go over and say that you have forgiven him."

"But I have not forgiven him."

"You know you must."

"I cannot, just yet, Christian. To-morrow, perhaps I can."

"You must do it to-night, Daisy. You do not know what else you

may have to do before to-morrow, that you will want the spirit

of love for."

I was silent a little, for I knew that was true.

"Well? -" said he.

"What can I do?" I said. "I suppose it will wear out; but just

now I have great displeasure against Preston. I cannot tell

him I forgive him. I have not forgiven him."

"And do not want to forgive him?"

I was again silent, for the answer would have had to be an

affirmative.

"If I could reach you, I would kiss that away," said Thorold.

"Daisy, must I tell you, that there is One who can look it

away? You need not wait."

I knew he spoke truth again; and I had forgotten it. Truth

that once by experience I so well knew. I stood silent and

self-condemned.

"Christian, I do not very often get angry; but when I do, I am

afraid the feeling is very obstinate."

"The case isn't desperate - unless you are obstinate too," he

said, with a look which conquered me. I fanned him a little

while longer; not long. For I was able very soon to go across

to Preston.

"Are you going to desert me for that fellow?" he growled.

"I must desert you, for whoever wants me more than you do; and

you must be willing that I should."

"If it wasn't for confounded Yankees!" he said.

"Yankees are pretty good to you, Preston, I think, just now.

What if they were to desert you? Where is your generosity?"

"Shot away. Come, Daisy, I had no business to speak as I did.

I'll confess it. Forgive me, won't you?"

"Entirely," I said. "But you gave me great pain, Preston."

"You are like the thinnest description of glass manufacture,"

said Preston. "What wouldn't scratch something else, makes a

confounded fracture in your feelings. I'll try and remember

what brittle ware I am dealing with."

So that was over, and I gave him his tea; and then went round

to do the same by others. I had to take them in turn; and when

I got to Mr. Thorold at last, there was no more time then for

talking, which I longed for. After the surgeon's round, when

all was quiet again in the room, I sat at the foot of Mr.

Thorold's bed with a kind of cry in my heart, to which I could

give no expression. I could not kneel there, to pray; I could

not leave my post; I could not speak nor listen where I wanted

a full interchange of heart with heart; the oppression almost

choked me. Then I remembered I could sing. And I sang that

hour, if I never did before. My sorrow, and my joy, and my cry

of heart, I put them all into the notes and poured them forth

in my song. I was never so glad I could sing as these days. I

knew, all the time, it was medicine and anodynes and strength

- and maybe teaching - to many that heard; for me, it was the

cry of prayer, and the pleading of faith, and the confession

of utmost need. How strong "Rock of Ages" seemed to me again

that night; the hymn, "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,"

was to me a very schedule of treasure; my soul mounted on the

words, like the angels on Jacob's ladder; the top of the

ladder was in heaven, if the foot of it was on a very rough

spot of earth. That night I sang hymns, in the high-wrought

state of my feelings, which the next day I could not have

sung. I remember that one of them was "What are these in

bright array," with the chorus, "They have clean robes, white

robes." "When I can read my title clear," was another.

Sometimes a hymn starts up to me now, with a thrill of

knowledge that I sang it that night, which yet at other times

I cannot recall. I sang till the hour, and past it, when I

must go to my room and give place to the night watchers. I

longed to stay, but it was impossible; so I went and bade

Preston good-night, who said to me never a word this time;

spoke to one or two others; and then went to Mr. Thorold. I

laid my hand on his. He grasped it immediately and looked up

at me with a clear, sweet, bright look, which did me untold

good; pulling me gently down. I bent over him, thinking he

wished to speak; then I knew what he wished, and obeying the

impulse and the request, our lips met. I don't know if anybody

saw it; and I did not care. That kiss sent me to sleep.