From that time we all were, to all seeming, just as we had
been before that day. Dr. Sandford went his rounds, with no
change perceptible in his manner towards any- body, or towards
me. I think I was not different in the ward from what I had
been, except to one pair of eyes: The duties of every day
rolled on as they had been accustomed to do; the singing of
every night was just as usual. One thing was a little changed.
I sought no longer to hide that Mr. Thorold was something to
me. The time for that was past. Of the few broken minutes that
remained to us, he should lose none, nor I, by unnecessary
difficulty. I was by his side now, all I could without
neglecting those who also needed me. And we talked, all we
could, with his strength and my time. I cared not now, that
all the ward should see and know what we were to each other.
Mr. Thorold saw a change in me, and asked the reason. And I
gave it. And then we talked no more of our own losses.
"I am quite ready to go, Daisy," he had said to me, with a
look both bright and sweet which it breaks my heart, while it
gladdens me, to remember. "You will come by and by, and I
shall be looking for you; and I am ready now, love."
After that, we spoke no more of our parting. We talked a very
great deal of other things, past and future; talks, that it
seems to me - now were scarce earthly, for their pure high
beauty, and truth, and joy. The strength of them will go with
me all my life. Dr. Sandford let us alone; ministered, to Mr.
Thorold and me, all he could; and interfered with me no more.
Preston took an opportunity to grumble; but that was soon
silenced, for I showed him that I would not bear it.
And the days in the hospital sped away. I do not know how; I
did not know at the time. Only as one lives and works and
breathes and sleeps in the presence of a single thought,
enveloping and enfolding everything else. The life was hardly
my own life; it was the life of another; or rather the two
lives were for the time so joined that they were almost one.
In a sort happy, as long as it was so.
But I knew it could not last; and the utter uncertainty when
it would end, oppressed me fearfully. Nothing in Mr. Thorold's
looks or manner gave me any help to judge about it. His face
was like itself always; his eye yet sometimes flashed and
sparkled after its own brilliant fashion, as gayly and freely
as ever. It always gave me untold pain; it brought life and
death into such close neighbourhood, and seemed to mock at the
necessity which hung over us. And then, if Mr. Thorold saw a
shadow come over my brow, he would give me such words and
looks of comfort and help, that again death was half swallowed
up of a better life, before the time. So the days went; and
Mr. Thorold said I grew thin; and the nurses and attendants
were almost reverentially careful of me; and Dr. Sandford was
a silent servant of mine and of Mr. Thorold's too, doing all
that was possible for us both. And Preston was fearfully
jealous and irritable; and wrote, I knew long afterwards, to
my mother; and my mother sent me orders to return home to her
at once and leave everything; and Dr. Sandford never gave me
the letters. I missed nothing; knew nothing; asked nothing;
until the day came that I was looking for.