Daisy In The Field

The sun went down behind the Catskill leaving the mountains in

a bath of glorified mist; and I, strengthened and comforted,

left my door-step and went back to Molly. She lay as she had

lain, in what I might have supposed stupor; and perhaps it

was; but she had said there was light in the valley she was

going through. That was enough. She might speak no more; and

in effect she never did intelligibly; it did not matter. My

heart was full of songs of gladness for her; yes, for a moment

I almost stood up yonder, among the harpers harping with their

harps. Meanwhile I put the little room to rights; even as I

had tried to do when I was a little child. I succeeded better

now; and then I sat down to wait; there seemed nothing more to

be done. The evening shades closed in; I wondered if I were to

spend the night alone with the dying woman; but I was not

afraid. I think I have done with fear in this world. Even as

the thought passed me, Dr. Sandford came in.

He had not been able to get any help, and he came to take my

place, that I might go home. It ended in our watching the

night through together; for of course I would not leave the

cottage. It was a night of strange and new peace to me; peace

that I had not known for many months. Molly was slowly passing

away; not seeming to suffer much, needing little care; she was

past it; and Dr. Sandford bestowed his attention upon me. He

sent for refreshments; had a fire built, for the June night

was chill; and watched me and waited upon me. And I let him,

for I knew it gave him pleasure.

"How do you do?" he said to me one time when the night was far

spent.

"Why do you ask that, Dr. Sandford?"

"Must you know, before you tell me?"

"No, not at all; I was only curious, because I know you always

have a reason for your questions."

"Most people have, I believe."

"Yes, curiosity; but it is knowledge, not ignorance, that

prompts your inquiries, Dr. Sandford."

He smiled at that; one of the pleasant smiles I used to know

so well. I saw them rarely now. It made me a little sad, for I

knew Dr. Sandford's life had suffered an eclipse, as well as

mine.

"I have not so much knowledge that I do not desire more," he

said.

"Yes, I know. I am very well, thank you."

"You were not very well when I brought you here."

"No. I was well in body."

"You are better?"

"Yes."

"If it were not impertinent, I would like to ask more."

"It is not impertinent. You may ask."