Daisy In The Field

"I said nothing against that," my mother replied. But my

father, clasping me in his arms, whispered, "We will be servants together, Daisy."

That word sent me to bed with a whole heartful of

thankfulness. I could bear anything now, if his words meant

what I hoped they did. And I should have security, too,

against any too great trial of my affection and duty to him

and to mamma.

An expedition had been arranged for the next day; in which my

brother and his friends were to take me upon the lake. Mamma

and papa would not go. It was a day, in one sort, of such

pleasure as I had never known till then. The beautiful water,

the magnificent shores of the lake, the wonderful lights on

the mountains, almost took me out of this world; to which they

seemed scarcely to belong. I cannot tell what a pang in the

midst of this pleasure the thought of Mr. Thorold brought with

it. The life I was living now was so very far from his life,

and so unlike; my part of the world was now so very distant

from his, - there was such an abyss between; - and yet the

Swiss hills were so glorious, and I was enjoying them. I began

to wonder, as we were sailing towards home in the end of the

day, what work I had to do in this new and strange place; why

was I here? Perhaps, to learn patience, and have faith grow

strong by trial, while all my life hopes waited upon a will

that I did not know and must trust. Perhaps, to stand up for

Christian truth and simplicity in the face of much opposition.

Perhaps, to suffer, and learn to bear suffering.

"You are fatigued, Miss Randolph?" said the soft voice of De

Saussure.

"Or beauty of scenery, so much beauty, makes you melancholy,"

said Mr. Marshall. "It always makes me so, if I let myself

think of it."

"Why should it make any one melancholy?" I asked. "I think

beauty has the contrary effect."

"A little beauty. But very great and wonderful loveliness - I

don't know why, it always moves me so. It is something too far

beyond me; it is unlike me; it seems to belong to another

stage of being, while I am held fast in this. It mocks me, -

somehow."

"It does not do so with me," I said.

"Ah, it is your world!" De Saussure said, laughing. "It could

not do so with you very well."

"But look at Mont Pilatte now," resumed Mr. Marshall, - "with

that crown of light on its brow; - does it not give you the

feeling of something inapproachable - not literally but

spiritually, - something pure, glorious, infinite - something

that shames us mortals into insignificance?"