"Is that all your boasted religion is good for?"
I could not answer. Was it? What is the boat which can only
sail in smooth water? But though feeling reproached, and
justly, I was as far from help as ever. Mamma went on "You used to be always bright - with your sort of brightness;
there was not much brilliance to it; but you had a kind of
steady cheerfulness of your own, from a child. What has become
of it?"
"Mamma, I am sorry it is gone. Perhaps it will wake up one of
these days."
"I shall die of heartache first. It would be the easiest thing
I could do. To live here, is to die a long death. I feel as if
I could not get a free breath now."
"I think, mamma, when we get accustomed to the place, we shall
find pleasantness in it. It is a world pleasanter than New
York."
"No, it is not," said mamma vehemently; "and it never will be.
In a city, you can cover yourself up, as it were, and half
hide yourself from even yourself; in such a place as this,
there is not a line in your lot but you have; leisure to trace
it all out; and there is not a rough place in your life but
you have time to put your foot on every separate inch of it.
Life is bare, Daisy; in a city one lives faster, and one is in
a crowd, and things are covered up or one passes them over
somehow. I shall die here!"
"Next spring you can have Melbourne again, mamma, you know."
But mamma burst into tears. I knew not how to comfort.
"Would'st thou go forth to bless? be sure of thine own ground;
"Fix well thy centre first; then draw thy circle round."
I was silent, while mamma wept.
"I wish you would keep Dr. Sandford from coming here!" she
said suddenly.
"I see his curricle at the gate now, mamma."
"Then I'll go. I don't want to see him. Do give him a
dismissal, Daisy!"
Our only faithful kind friend; how could I? It was not
possible that I should do such a thing.
"How is all here?" said the doctor, coming in.
I told him, as well as usual - or not quite. Mamma had not got
accustomed to the change yet.
"And Daisy?"
"I like it."
The doctor took an ungratified survey of my countenance.
"Don't you want to see some of your old friends?"
"Friends? - here? Who, Dr. Sandford?"
"Old Juanita would like to see you."
"Juanita!" said I. "Is she alive?"
"You do not seem very glad of it?"
I was not glad of anything. But I did not say so.