ENTERED FOR THE WAR.
One evening, I think before the end of April, I asked permission to
spend the evening at Miss Cardigan's. I had on hand a piece of study
for which I wanted to consult certain books which I knew were in her
library. Mlle. Genevieve gave me leave gladly.
"You do study too persevering, m'amie," she said. "Go, and stop to
study for a little while. You are pale. I am afraid your doctor--ce
bon Monsieur le docteur--will scold us all by and by. Go, and do not
study."
But I determined to have my play and my study too.
As I passed through Miss Cardigan's hall, the parlour door, standing
half open let me see that a gentleman was with her. Not wishing to
interrupt any business that might be going on, and not caring also to
be bored with it myself, I passed by and went into the inner room
where the books were. I would study now, I thought, and take my
pleasure with my dear old friend by and by, when she was at leisure. I
had found my books, and had thrown myself down on the floor with one,
when a laugh that came from the front room laid a spell upon my powers
of study. The book fell from my hands; I sat bolt upright, every sense
resolved into that of hearing. What, and who had that been? I
listened. Another sound of a word spoken, another slight inarticulate
suggestion of laughter; and I knew with an assured knowledge that my
friend Cadet Thorold, and no other, was the gentleman in Miss
Cardigan's parlour with whom she had business. I sat up and forgot my
books. The first impulse was to go in immediately and show myself. I
can hardly tell what restrained me. I remembered that Miss Cardigan
must have business with him, and I had better not interrupt it. But
those sounds of laughter had not been very business-like, either. Nor
were they business words which came through the open door. I never
thought or knew I was listening. I only thought it was Thorold, and
held my breath to hear, or rather to feel. My ears seemed sharpened
beyond all their usual faculty.
"And you haven't gone and fallen in love, callant, meanwhile, just to
complicate affairs?" said the voice of Miss Cardigan.
"I shall never fall in love," said Thorold, with (I suppose) mock
gravity. His voice sounded so.
"Why not?"
"I require too much."
"It's like your conceit!" said Miss Cardigan. "Now, what is it that
you require? I would like to know; that is, if you know yourself. It
appears that you have thought about it."
"I have thought, till I have got it all by heart," said Thorold. "The
worst is, I shall never find it in this world."
"That's likely. Come, lad, paint your picture, and I'll tell you if
_I_ know where to look," said Miss Cardigan.
"And then you'll search for me?"
"I dinna ken if you deserve it," said Miss Cardigan.
"I don't deserve it, of course," said Thorold. "Well--I have painted
the likeness a good many times. The first thing is a pair of eyes as
deep and grey as our mountain lakes."
"I never heard that your Vermont lakes were _grey_," said Miss
Cardigan.
"Oh, but they are! when the shadow of the mountains closes them in. It
is not cold grey, but purple and brown, the shadow of light, as it
were; the lake is in shadow. Only, if a bit of blue _does_ show itself
there, it is the very heaven."
"I hope that it is not going to be in poetry?" said Miss Cardigan's
voice, sounding dry and amused. "What is the next thing? It is a very
good picture of eyes."
"The next thing is a mouth that makes you think of nothing but kissing
it; the lines are so sweet, and so mobile, and at the same time so
curiously subdued. A mouth that has learned to smile when things don't
go right; and that has learned the lesson so well, you cannot help
thinking it must have often known things go wrong; to get the habit so
well, you know."
"Eh?--Why, boy!"--cried Miss Cardigan.
"Do you know anybody like it?" said Thorold, laughing. "If you do, you
are bound to let me know where, you understand."
"What lies between the eyes and mouth?" said Miss Cardigan. "There
goes more to a picture."
"Between the eyes and mouth," said Thorold, "there is sense and
dignity, and delicacy, and refinement to a fastidious point; and a
world of strength of character in the little delicate chin."
"Character--_that_ shows in the mouth," said Miss Cardigan, slowly.
"I told you so," said Thorold. "That is what I told you. Truth, and
love, and gentleness, all sit within those little red lips; and a
great strength of will, which you cannot help thinking has borne
something to try it. The brow is like one of our snowy mountain tops
with the sun shining on it."
"And the lady's figure is like a pine-tree, isn't it? It sounds gay,
as if you'd fallen in love with Nature, and so personified and imaged
her in human likeness. Is it real humanity?"
Thorold laughed his gay laugh. "The pine-tree will do excellently,
Aunt Catherine," he said. "No better embodiment of stately grace could
be found."
My ears tingled. "Aunt Catherine?" _Aunt!_ Then Thorold must be her
relation, her nephew; then he was not come on business; then he would
stay to tea. I might as well show myself. But, I thought, if Thorold
had some other lady so much in his mind (for I was sure his picture
must be in a portrait), he would not care so very much about seeing
me, as I had at first fancied he would. However, I could not go away;
so I might as well go in; it would not do to wait longer. The evening
had quite fallen now. It was April, as I said, but a cold, raw spring
day, and had been like that for several days. Houses were chill; and
in Miss Cardigan's grate a fine fire of Kennal coals were blazing,
making its red illumination all over the room and the two figures who
sat in front of it. She had had a grate put in this winter. There was
no other light, only that soft red glow and gloom, under favour of
which I went in and stood almost beside them before they perceived me.
I did not speak to Miss Cardigan. I remember my words were, "How do
you do, Mr. Thorold?"--in a very quiet kind of a voice; for I did not
now expect him to be very glad. But I was surprised at the change my
words made. He sprang up, his eyes flashing a sort of shower of sparks
over me, gladness in every line of his face, and surprise, and a kind
of inexpressible deference in his manner.
"Daisy!" he exclaimed. "Miss Randolph!"
"Daisy!" echoed Miss Cardigan. "My dear--do you two know each other?
Where did you come from?"
I think I did not answer. I am sure Thorold did not. He was caring for
me, placing his chair nearer his aunt, and putting me into it, before
he let go the hand he had taken. Then, drawing up another chair on the
other side of me, he sat down, looking at me (I thought afterwards, I
only felt at the moment), as if I had been some precious wonder; the
Koh-i-noor diamond, or anything of that sort.
"Where did you come from?" was his first question.
"I have been in the house a little while," I said. "I thought at first
Miss Cardigan had somebody with her on business, so I would not come
in."
"It is quite true, Daisy," said Miss Cardigan; "it is somebody on
business."
"Nothing private about it, though," said Thorold, smiling at me. "But
where in the world did you and Aunt Catherine come together?"
"And what call have ye to search into it?" said Miss Cardigan's
good-humoured voice. "I know a great many bodies, callant, that you
know not."
"I know this one, though," said Thorold. "Miss Randolph--won't you
speak? for Aunt Catherine is in no mood to tell me--have you two known
each other long?"
"It seems long," I said. "It is not very long."
"Since last summer?"
"Certainly!"
"If that's the date of _your_ acquaintanceship," said Miss Cardigan,
"we're auld friends to that. Is all well, Daisy?"
"All quite well, ma'am. I came to do a bit of study I wanted in your
books, and to have a nice time with you, besides."
"And here is this fellow in the way. But we cannot turn him out,
Daisy; he is going fast enough; on what errand, do you think, is he
bent?"
_I_ had not thought about it till that minute. Something, some thread
of the serious, in Miss Cardigan's voice, made me look suddenly at
Thorold. He had turned his eyes from me and had bent them upon the
fire, all merriment gone out of his face, too. It was thoroughly
grave.
"What are you going to do, Mr. Thorold?" I asked.
"Do you remember a talk we had down on Flirtation Walk one day last
summer, when you asked me about possible political movements at the
South, and I asked you what you would do?"
"Yes," I said, my heart sinking.
"The time has come," he said, facing round upon me.
"And you--?"
"I shall be on my way to Washington in a few days. Men are wanted
now--all the men that have any knowledge to be useful. I may not be
very useful. But I am going to try."
"I thought"--it was not quite easy to speak, for I was struggling with
something which threatened to roughen my voice--"I thought you did not
graduate till June?"
"Not regularly; not usually; but things are extraordinary this year.
We graduate and go on to Washington at once."
I believe we were all silent a few minutes.
"Daisy," said Miss Cardigan, "you have nobody that is dear to _you_
likely to be engaged in the fray--if there is one?"
"I don't know--" I said, rather faintly. I remember I said it; I
cannot tell why, for I _did_ know. I knew that Preston and Ransom were
both likely to be in the struggle, even if Ransom had been at the
moment at the opposite side of the world. But then Thorold roused up
and began to talk. He talked to divert us, I think. He told us of
things that concerned himself and his class personally, giving details
to which we listened eagerly; and he went on from them to things and
people in the public line, of which and of whom neither Miss Cardigan
nor I had known the thousandth part so much before. We sat and
listened, Miss Cardigan often putting in a question, while the warm
still glow of the firelight shed over us and all the room its
assurance of peace and quiet, woven and compounded of life-long
associations. Thorold sat before us and talked, and we looked at him
and listened in the fire-shine; and my thoughts made swift sideway
flights every now and then from this peace and glow of comfort, and
from Thorold's talk, to the changes of the camp and the possible
coming strife; spectres of war, guns and swords, exposure and
wounds--and sickness--and the battlefield--what could I tell? and Miss
Cardigan's servant put another lump of coal on the fire, and Thorold
presently broke it, and the jet of illumination sprang forth, mocking
and yet revealing in its sweet home glow my visions of terror. They
were but momentary visions; I could not bear, of course, to look
steadily at them; they were spectres that came and went with a wave of
a hand, in a jet of flame, or the shadow of an opening door; but they
went and came; and I saw many things in Thorold's face that night
besides the manly lines of determination and spirit, the look of
thought and power, and the hover of light in his eye when it turned to
me. I don't know what Miss Cardigan saw; but several times in the
evening I heard her sigh; a thing very unusual and notable with her.
Again and again I heard it, a soft long breath.
I gave it no heed at the time. My eyes and thoughts were fixed on the
other member of the party; and I was like one in a dream. I walked in
a dream; till we went into the other room to tea, and I heard Miss
Cardigan say, addressing her nephew--
"Sit there, Christian."
I was like one in a dream, or I should have known what this meant. I
did know two minutes afterwards. But at the moment, falling in with
some of my thoughts, the word made me start and look at Thorold. I
cannot tell what was in my look; I know what was in my heart; the
surprised inquiry and the yearning wish. Thorold's face flushed. He
met my eyes with an intense recognition and inquiry in his own, and
then, I am almost sure, his were dim. He set my chair for me at the
table, and took hold of me and put me in it with a very gentle touch
that seemed to thank me.
"That is my name, Miss Randolph," he said, "the name given me by my
parents."
"You'll earn it yet, boy," said Miss Cardigan. "But the sooner the
better."
There was after that a very deep gravity upon us all for the first
minutes at the table. I wondered to myself, how people can go on drinking
tea and eating bread and butter through everything; yet they must, and
even I was doing it at the moment, and not willing to forego the
occupation. By degrees the wonted course of things relieved our minds,
which were upon too high a strain. It appeared that Thorold was very
hungry, having missed his dinner somehow; and his aunt ordered up
everything in the house for his comfort, in which I suppose she found her
own. And then Thorold made me eat with him. I was sure I did not want it,
but that made no difference. Things were prepared for me and put upon my
plate, and a soft little command laid on me to do with them what I was
expected to do. It was not like the way Dr. Sandford used to order me,
nor in the least like Preston's imperiousness, which I could withstand
well enough; there was something in it which nullified all my power and
even will to resist, and I was as submissive as possible. Thorold grew
very bright again as the meal went on, and began to talk in a somewhat
livelier strain than he had been in before tea; and I believe he did wile
both his aunt and me out of the sad or grave thoughts we had been
indulging. I know that I was obliged to laugh, as I was obliged to eat.
Thorold had his own way, and seemed to like it. Even his aunt was amused
and interested, and grew lively, like herself. With all that, through the
whole supper-time I had an odd feeling of her being on one side; it
seemed to be only Thorold and I really there; and in all Thorold was
doing and through all he was talking, I had a curious sense that he was
occupied only with me. It was not that he said so much directly to me or
looked so much at me; I do not know how I got the feeling. There was Miss
Cardigan at the head of the table busy and talking as usual, clever and
kind; yet the air seemed to be breathed only by Thorold and me.
"And how soon, lad," Miss Cardigan broke out suddenly, when a moment's
lull in the talk had given her a chance, "how soon will ye be off to
that region of disturbance whither ye are going?"
"Washington?" said Thorold. "Just as soon as our examination can be
pushed through; in a very few days now."
"You'll come to me by the way, for another look at you, in your
officer's uniform?"
"Uniform? nobody will have any uniform, I fancy," said Thorold;
"nobody has any time to think of that. No, Aunt Catherine, and I shall
not see you, either. I expect we shall rush through without the loss
of a train. I can't stop. I don't care what clothes I wear to get
there."
"How came you to be here now, if you are in such a hurry?"
"Nothing on earth would have brought me, but the thing that did bring
me," said Thorold. "I was subpoenaed down, to give my evidence in a
trial. I must get back again without loss of a minute; should have
gone to-night, if there had been a train that stopped. I am very glad
there was no train that stopped!"
We were all silent for a minute; till the door-bell rang, and the
servant came, announcing Mr. Bunsen, to see Miss Cardigan about the
tenant houses. Miss Cardigan went off through the open doors that led
to the front parlour; and standing by the fire, I watched her figure
diminishing in the long distance till it passed into Mr. Bunsen's
presence and disappeared. Mr. Thorold and I stood silently on either
side of the hearth, looking into the fire, while the servant was
clearing the table. The cheerful, hospitable little table, round which
we had been so cheerful at least for the moment, was dismantled
already, and the wonted cold gleam of the mahogany seemed to tell me
that cheer was all over. The talk of the uniform had overset me. All
sorts of visions of what it signified, what it portended, where it
would go, what it would be doing, were knocking at the door of my
heart, and putting their heads in. Before tea these visions had come
and vanished; often enough, to be sure; now they came and stayed. I
was very quiet, I am certain of that; I was as certainly very sober,
with a great and growing sadness at my heart. I think Thorold was
grave, too, though I hardly looked at him. We did not speak to each
other all the time the servant was busy in the room. We stood silent
before the fire. The study I had come to do had all passed away out of
my mind, though the books were within three feet of me. I was growing
sadder and sadder every minute.
"Things have changed, since we talked so lightly last summer of what
might be," Thorold said at last. And he said it in a meditative way,
as if he were pondering something.
"Yes," I assented.
"The North does not wish for war. The South have brought it upon
themselves."
"Yes," I said again, wondering a little what was coming.
"However disagreeable my duty may be, it is my duty; and there is no
shirking it."
"No," I said. "Of course."
"And if your friends are on one side and I on the other,--it is not my
fault, Miss Randolph."
"No," I said; "not at all."
"Then you do not blame me for taking the part I _must_ take?"
"No," I said. "You must take it."
"Are you sorry I take it?" said Thorold with a change of tone, and
coming a step nearer.
"Sorry?" I said, and I looked up for an instant. "No; how could I be
sorry? it is your duty. It is right." But as I looked down again I had
the greatest difficulty not to burst into tears. I felt as though my
heart would break in two with its burden of pain. It cost a great
effort to stand still and quiet, without showing anything.
"What is it, then?" said Thorold; and with the next words I knew he
had come close to my side and was stooping his head down to my face,
while his voice dropped. "What is it, Daisy?--Is it--O Daisy, I love
you better than anything else in the world, except my duty! Daisy, do
you love me?"
Nothing could have been more impossible to me, I think, than to answer
a word; but, indeed, Thorold did not seem to want it. As he questioned
me, he had put his arm round me and drawn me nearer and nearer,
stooping his face to me, till his lips took their own answer at mine;
indeed, took answer after answer, and then, in a sort of passion of
mute joy, kissed my face all over. I could not forbid him; between
excitement and sorrow and happiness and shame, I could do nothing. The
best I could do was to hide my face; but the breast of that grey coat
was a strange hiding-place for it. With that inconsistent mingling of
small things with great in one's perceptions, which everybody knows, I
remember the soft feel of the fine grey cloth along with the clasp of
Thorold's arms and the touch of his cheek resting upon my hair. And we
stood so, quite still, for what seemed both a long and a short time,
in which I think happiness got the upper hand with me, and pain for
the moment was bid into the background. At last Thorold raised his
head and bade me lift up mine.
"Look up, darling," he said; "look up, Daisy! let me see your face.
Look up, Daisy--we have only a minute, and everything in the world to
say to each other. Daisy--I want to see you."
I think it was one of the most difficult little things I ever had in
my life to do, to raise my face and let him look at it; but I knew it
must be done, and I did it. One glance at his I ventured. He was
smiling at me; there was a flush upon his cheek; his eye had a light
in it, and with that a glow of tenderness which was different from
anything I had ever seen; and it was glittering, too, I think, with
another sort of suffusion. His hand came smoothing down my hair and
then touching my cheek while he looked at me.
"What are you going to do with yourself now?" he said softly.
"I am going on with my studies for another month or two."
"And you belong to me, Daisy?"
"Yes."
He bent his head and kissed my brow. There is an odd difference of
effect between a kiss on the lips and on the forehead, or else it was
a difference in the manner. This seemed a sort of taking possession or
setting a seal; and it gave me a new feeling of something almost like
awe, which I had never associated with the grey coat or with its
wearer before. Along with that came another impression that I suppose
most women know, and know how sweet it is; the sense of an enveloping
protection. Not that I had not been protected all my life; but my
mother's had been the protection of authority; my father's also, in
some measure; Dr. Sandford's was emphatically that of a _guardian_; he
guarded me a little too well. But this new thing that was stealing
into my heart, with its subtle delight, was the protection of a
champion; of one who set me and mine above all other interests or
claims in the world, and who would guard me as if he were a part of
myself, only stronger. Altogether Thorold seemed to me different from
what he had been the last summer; there was a gravity now in his face
and air at times that was new and even stern; the gravity of a man
taking stern life work upon him. I felt all this in a minute, while
Thorold was smiling down into my face.
"And you will write to me?" he said.
"Yes."
"And I will write to you. And I belong to you, Daisy, and to no other.
All I have is yours, and all that I am is yours--after my duty; you
may dispose of me, pretty one, just as you like. _You_ would not have
that put second, Daisy."
A great yearning came over me, so great and strong that it almost took
away my breath. I fancy it spoke in my eyes, for Thorold's face grew
very grave, I remember, as he looked at me. But I must speak it more
plainly than so, at any costs, breath or no breath, and I must not
wait.
"Christian," I whispered, "won't you earn your right to your name?"
He pressed his lips upon mine by way of answer first, and then gave me
a quick and firm "Yes." I certainly thought he had found a mouth he
was talking of a little while ago. But at that instant the sound of
the distant house door closing, and then of steps coming out from the
parlour, made me know that Miss Cardigan's business was over, and that
she was returning to us. I wanted to free myself from Thorold's arm,
but he would not let me; on the contrary, held me closer, and half
turned to meet Miss Cardigan as she came in. Certainly men are very
different from women. There we stood, awaiting her; and I felt very
much ashamed.
"Come on, Aunt Catherine," Thorold said, as she paused at the
door,--"come in, come in, and kiss her--this little darling is mine."
Miss Cardigan came in slowly. I could not look up.
"Kiss her, Aunt Catherine," he repeated; "she is mine."
And to my great dismay he set her the example; but I think it was
partly to reassure me, and cover my confusion, which he saw.
"I have kissed Daisy very often before now," said Miss Cardigan. I
thought I discerned some concern in her voice.
"Then come, do it again," said Thorold, laughing. "You never kissed
her as anything belonging to me, Aunt Catherine."
And he fairly laid me in Miss Cardigan's arms, till we kissed each
other as he desired. But Miss Cardigan's gravity roused me out of my
confusion. I was not ashamed before her; only before him.
"Now, Aunt Catherine," he said, pulling up a comfortable arm chair to
the corner of the hearth, "sit there. And Daisy--come here!"
He put me into the fellow chair; and then built up the wood in the
fireplace till we had a regular illumination. Then drew himself up
before the fire, and looked at his aunt.
"It's like you!" broke out Miss Cardigan. "Ever since you were born, I
think, you did what you liked, and had what you liked; and threw over
everything to get at the best."
"On the contrary," said Thorold, "I was always of a very contented
disposition."
"Contented with your own will, then," said his aunt. "And now, do you
mean to tell me that you have got this prize--this prize--it's a first
class, Christian--for good and for certain to yourself?"
I lifted my eyes one instant, to see the sparkles in Thorold's eyes;
they were worth seeing.
"You don't think you deserve it?" Miss Cardigan went on.
"I do not think I deserve it," said Thorold. "But I think I will."
"I know what that means," said his aunt. "You will get worldly
glory--just a bit or two more of gold on your coat--to match you with
one of the Lord's jewels, that are to be 'all glorious within'; and
you think that will fit you to own her."
"Aunt Catherine," said Thorold, "I do not precisely think that gold
lace is glory. But I mean that I will do my duty. A man can do no
more."
"Some would have said 'a man can do no less,'" said Miss Cardigan,
turning to me. "But you are right, lad; more than our duty we can none
of us do; where _all_ is owing, less will not be overpay. But whatever
do you think her father will say to you?"
"I will ask him when the time comes," said Thorold, contentedly. His
tone was perfect, both modest and manly. Truth to say, I could not
quite share his content in looking forward to the time he spoke of;
but that was far ahead, and it was impossible not to share his
confidence. My father and my mother had been practically not my
guardians during six and a half long years; I had got out of the habit
of looking first to them.
"And what are you going to do now in Washington?" said his aunt. "You
may as well sit down and tell us."
"I don't know. Probably I shall be put to drill new recruits. All
these seventy-five thousand men that the President has called for,
won't know how to handle a gun or do anything else."
"And what is he going to do with these seventy-five thousand men,
Christian?"
"Put down treason, if he can. Don't you realize yet that we have a
civil war on our hands, Aunt Catherine? The Southern States are
mustering and sending their forces; we must meet them, or give up the
whole question; that is, give up the country."
"And what is it that _they_ will try to do?" said Miss Cardigan. "It
is a mystery to me what they want; but I suppose I know; only bad men
are a mystery to me always."
"They will try to defy the laws," said Thorold. "We will try to see
them executed."
"They seem very fierce," said Miss Cardigan; "to judge by what they
say."
"And do," added Thorold. "I think there is a sort of madness in
Southern blood."
He spoke with a manner of disgustful emphasis. I looked up at him to
see an expression quite in keeping with his words. Miss Cardigan cried
out--
"Hey, lad! ye're confident, surely, to venture your opinions so
plainly and so soon!"
His face changed, as if sunlight had been suddenly poured over it. He
came kneeling on one knee before me, taking my hand and kissing it,
and laughing.
"And I see ye're not confident without reason!" added Miss Cardigan.
"Daisy'll just let ye say your mind, and no punish you for it."
"But it is _true_, Miss Cardigan," I said, turning to her. I wished I
had held my tongue the next minute, for the words were taken off my
lips, as it were. It is something quite different from eating your own
words, which I have heard of as not being pleasant; mine seemed to be
devoured by somebody else.
"But is it true they are coming to attack Washington?" Miss Cardigan
went on, when we had all done laughing. "I read it in the prints; and
it seems to me I read every other thing there."
"I am afraid you read too many prints," said Thorold. "You are
thinking of 'hear both sides,' Aunt Catherine? You must know there is
but one side to this matter. There never are two sides to treason."
"That's true," said Miss Cardigan. "But about Washington, lad? I saw
an extract from a letter written from that city, by a lady, and she
said the place was in a terror; she said the President sleeps with a
hundred men, armed, in the east room, to protect him from the Southern
army; and keeps a sentinel before his bedroom door; and often goes
clean out of the White House and sleeps somewhere else, in his fear."
I had never seen Thorold laugh as he did then. And he asked his aunt
"where she had seen that extract?"
"It was in one of the papers--it was in an extract itself, I'm
thinking."
"From a Southern paper," said Thorold.
"Well, I believe it was."
"I have seen extracts, too," said Thorold. "They say, Alexander H.
Stephens is counselling the rebels to lay hold on Washington."
"Well, sit down and tell us what you do know, and how to understand
things," said Miss Cardigan. "I don't talk to anybody, much, about
politics."
So Thorold did as he was asked. He sat down on the other side of me,
and with my hand in his, talked to us both. We went over the whole
ground of the few months past, of the work then doing and preparing,
of what might reasonably be looked for in both the South and the
North. He said he was not very wise in the matter; but he was
infinitely more informed than we; and we listened as to the most
absorbing of all tales, till the night was far worn. A sense of the
gravity and importance of the crisis; a consciousness that we were
embarked in a contest of the most stubborn character, the end of which
no man might foretell, pressed itself more and more on my mind as the
night and the talk grew deeper. If I may judge from the changes in
Miss Cardigan's face, it was the same with her. The conclusion was,
the North was gathering and concentrating all her forces to meet the
trial that was coming; and the young officers of the graduating class
at the Military Academy had been ordered to the seat of war a little
before their time of study was out, their help being urgently needed.
"And where is Preston?" said I, speaking for the first time in a long
while.
"Preston?" echoed Thorold.
"My Cousin Preston--Gary; your classmate Gary."
"Gary! Oh, he is going to Washington, like the rest of us."
"Which side will he take?"
"You should know, perhaps, better than I," said Thorold. "He always
_has_ taken the Southern side, and very exclusively."
"_Has_ taken?" said I. "Do you mean that among the cadets there has
been a South and a North--until now, lately?"
"Aye, Daisy, always, since I have been in the Academy. The Southern
clique and the Northern clique have been well defined; there is always
an assumption of superiority on the one side, and some resenting of it
on the other side. It was on that ground Gary and I split."
"Split!" I repeated.
But Thorold laughed and kissed me, and would give me no satisfaction.
I began to put things together, though. I saw from Christian's eyes
that _he_ had nothing to be ashamed of, in looking back; I remembered
Preston's virulence, and his sudden flush when somebody had repeated
the word "coward," which he had applied to Thorold. I felt certain
that more had been between them than mere words, and that Preston
found the recollection not flattering, whatever it was; and having
come to this settlement of the matter, I looked up at Thorold.
"My gentle little Daisy!" he said. "I will never quarrel with him
again--if I can help it."
"You _must_ quarrel with him, if he is on the wrong side," I answered.
"And so must I."
"You say you must go immediately back to West Point," said Miss
Cardigan. "Leave thanking Daisy's hand, and tell me _when_ you are
going; for the night is far past, children."
"I am gone when I bid you good-night," said Thorold. "I must set out
with the dawn--to catch the train I must take."
"With the dawn!--_this_ morning!" cried Miss Cardigan.
"Certainly. I should be there this minute, if the colonel had not
given me something to do here that kept me."
"And when will ye do it?"
"Do it! It is done," said Thorold; "before I came here. But I must
catch the first train in the morning."
"And you'll want some breakfast before that," she said, rising.
"No, I shall not," said Thorold, catching hold of her. "I want
nothing. I _did_ want my supper. Sit down, Aunt Catherine, and be
quiet. I want nothing, I tell you, but more time."
"We may as well sit up the rest of the night," I said; "it is so far
gone now."
"Yes, and what will you be good for to-morrow?" said Miss Cardigan.
"You must lie down and take a bit of rest."
I felt no weariness; but I remember the grave, tender examination of
Thorold's eyes, which seemed to touch me with their love, to find out
whether I--and himself--might be indulged or not. It was a bit of the
thoughtful, watchful affection which always surrounded me when he was
near. I never had it just so from anybody else.
"It won't do, Daisy," said he gaily. "You would not have me go in
company with self-reproaches all day to-morrow? You must lie down here
on the sofa; and, sleep or not, we'll all be still for two hours. Aunt
Catherine will thank me to stop talking for that length of time."
I was not sleepy, but Miss Cardigan and Thorold would not be resisted.
Thorold wheeled up the sofa, piled the cushions, and made me lie down,
with the understanding that nobody should speak for the time he had
specified. Miss Cardigan, on her part, soon lost herself in her easy
chair. Thorold walked perseveringly up and down the room. I closed my
eyes and opened my eyes, and lay still and thought. It is all before
me now. The firelight fading and brightening: Thorold took care of the
fire; the gleam of the gaslight on the rows of books; Miss Cardigan's
comfortable figure gone to sleep in the corner of her chair; and the
figure which ever and anon came between me and the fire, piling or
arranging the logs of wood, and then paced up and down just behind me.
There was no sleep for my eyes, of course. How should there be? I
seemed to pass all my life in review, and as I took the bearings of my
present position I became calm.
I rose up the moment the two hours were over, for I could bear the
silence no longer, nor the losing any more time. Thorold stopped his
walk then, and we had along talk over the fire by ourselves, while
Miss Cardigan slept on. Trust her, though, for waking up when there
was anything to be done. Long before dawn she roused herself and went
to call her servants and order our breakfast.
"What are you going to do now, Daisy?" said Thorold, turning to me
with a weight of earnestness in his eyes, and a flash of that keen
inspection which they sometimes gave me.
"You know," I said, "I am going to study as hard as I can for a month
or two more,--till my school closes."
"What then, Daisy? Perhaps you will find some way to come on and see
me at Washington--if the rebels don't take it first?"
It must be told.
"No--I cannot.--My father and mother wish me to go out to them as soon
as I get a chance."
"Where?"
"In Switzerland."
"Switzerland! To stay how long?"
"I don't know--till the war is over, I suppose. I do not think they
would come back before."
"I shall come and fetch you then, Daisy."
But it seemed a long way off. And how much might be between. We were
both silent.
"That is heavy for me," said Thorold at last. "Little Daisy, you do
not know how heavy!"
He was caressing my hair, smoothing and stroking it as he spoke. I
looked up and his eyes flashed fire instantly.
"Say that in words!" he exclaimed, taking me in his arms. "Say it,
Daisy! say it. It will be worth so much to me."
But my lips had hardly a chance to speak.
"Say what?"
"Daisy, you _have_ said it. Put it in words, that is all."
But his eyes were so full of flashing triumph that I thought he had
got enough for the time.
"Daisy, those eyes of yours are like mountain lakes, deep and still.
But when I look quite down to the bottom of them--sometimes I see
something--I thought I did then."
"What?" I asked, very much amused.
"I see it there now, Daisy!"
I was afraid he did, for _his_ eyes were like sunbeams, and I thought
they went through everything at that minute. I don't know what moved me,
the consciousness of this inspection or the consciousness of what it
discovered; but I know that floods of shyness seemed to flush my face and
brow, and even to the tips of my fingers. I would have escaped if I
could, but I could not; and I think Thorold rather liked what he saw.
There was no hiding it, unless I hid it on his shoulder, and that I was
ashamed to do. I felt that his lips knew just as well as his eyes what
state my cheeks were in, and took their own advantage. Though presently
their tenderness soothed me too, and even nullified the soft little laugh
with which he whispered, "Are you ashamed to show it to _me_, Daisy?"
"You know," said I, still keeping my eyes veiled, "you have me at
advantage. If you were not going--away--so soon, I would not do a
great many things."
"Daisy!" said he, laughing--"Daisy!"--And he touched my cheek as one
who meant to keep his advantage. Then his voice changed, and he
repeated, with a deeper and deepening tone with each word--"Daisy! my
Daisy!"
I had very nearly burst out into great sobs upon his breast, with the
meeting of opposite tides of feeling. Sweet and bitter struggled for
the upper hand; struggled, while I was afraid he would feel the
laboured breath which went and came, straining me. And the sweetness,
for the moment, got the better. I knew he must go, in an hour or
little more, away from me. I knew it was for uncertain and maybe
dangerous duty. I knew it might at best be long before we could see
each other again; and back of all, the thought of my father and mother
was not reassuring. But his arms were round me and my head was on his
shoulder; and that was but the outward symbol of the inward love and
confidence which filled all my heart with its satisfying content. For
the moment happiness was uppermost. Not all the clouds on the horizon
could dim the brightness of that one sun ray which reached me.
I do not know what Thorold thought, but he was as still for a while as
I was.
"Daisy," he said at last, "my Daisy, you need not grudge any of your
goodness to me. Don't you know, you are to be my light and my
watchword in what lies before me?"
"Oh no!" I said, lifting my head; "Oh no, Christian!"
"Why no?" said he.
"I want you to have a better watchword and follow a better light. Not
me. O Christian, won't you?"
"What shall my watchword be?" said he, looking into my eyes. But I was
intent on something else then. I answered, "Whatsoever ye do, do all
in the name of the Lord Jesus."
"A soldier, Daisy?"
"A soldier more than anybody," I said; "for He calls us to be
soldiers, and you know what it means."
"But you forget," said he, not taking his eyes from my face--"in my
service I must obey as well as command: I am not my own master
exactly."
"Let Christ be your Master," I said.
"How then with this other service?"
"Why it is very plain," I said. "Command in the love of God and obey
in the fear of God; that covers all."
I did not see the natural sequence of what followed; for it was a
succession of kisses that left no chance for a word to get out of my
mouth. Then Thorold rose up, and I saw Miss Cardigan enter.
"I will not forget, Daisy," he said, in a tone as if we had been
talking of business. I thought, neither should I. And then came Miss
Cardigan, and the servant behind her bringing coffee and bread and
eggs and marmalade--I don't know what beside--and we sat down again to
the table, knowing that the next move would be a move apart. But the
wave of happiness was at the flood with me, and it bore me over all
the underlying roughness of the shore--for the time. I do not think
anybody wanted to eat much; we played with cups of coffee and with
each other, and dallied with the minutes till the last one was spent.
And then came the parting. That was short.
THE END.
Transcriber's Notes
The following items were considered to be typographical errors and
have been changed. Other typographic, spelling, punctuation errors and
parochial speech has been left as they appear in the book.
Page 17--Changed period into comma after the word "too" in the
sentence--"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I.
Page 37--Corrected "awkward" from "awkard" in the sentence--They were
giggling and grinning, hopping on one foot, and going into other
awkward antics; not the less that most of them had their arms filled
with little black babies.
Page 40--Changed question mark to period and deleted quotation mark in
the sentence--I asked what they all were."
Page 51--Changed single quote to double quote after "light" in the
sentence--"They must be very dark if they could not understand light,"
said my governess.
Page 56--Removed superfluous "n" from governess in--Then I remembered
that my governess probably did care for some fruit
Page 87--Corrected "string" to read "sting" in the sentence--It has a
sting of its own, for which there is neither salve nor remedy; and it
had the aggravation, in my case, of the sense of personal dishonour.
Page 91--Added apostrophe to "girls" in the sentence--I have a
recollection of the girl's terrified face, but I heard nothing more.
Page 93--removed " from the start of the sentence--They had been gone
half an hour, when Preston stole in and came to the side of my bed,
between me and the firelight.
Page 97--Added " after Melbourne in the sentence--"We shall have to
let her do just as they did at Melbourne," said my aunt.
Page 110--Added " after the word "by" in the sentence--"Mass' Preston
come last night," she went on; "so I reckon Miss Daisy'll want to wear
it by and by."
Page 163--Changed period to ? in the sentence--"Will that distress you
very much?"
Page 178--Changed Mr. to Dr. in the sentence--"But, Dr.
Sandford," I said, "nobody can belong to anybody--in that way."
Page 193--Changed 'be' to 'he' in the sentence starting--I believe I
half wished be would make some objection;
Page 206--Added "le" to "aves" to make "leaves" in--"You wouldn't say
so, if you knew the work it is to set those leaves round," said the
mantua-maker.
Page 240--Changed "for" into "far" in--but I am afraid the rule of the
Good Samaritan would put us far apart.
Page 249--Changed exclamation mark to question mark in--"Is there so
much trouble everywhere in the world?"
Page 250--Changed "I" to "It" in--It was a good photograph, and had
beauty enough besides to hold my eyes.
Page 257--Capitalised "W" in--Is it Daisy Randolph? What have you done
to yourself?
Page 266--changed beside to bedside in--I heard no sound while I was
undressing, nor while I knelt, as usual now, by my bedside.
Page 283--Changed rapidily to rapidly in--I watched him rapidly
walking into the library;
Page 285--Added question mark instead of period to--"Are you tired?"
Page 316--Changed inmediately to immediately in--and placed himself
immediately beside his summoner,
Page 349--Changed "not" to "nor" in--"I cannot help that. He is
neither gentlemanly in his habits nor true in his speech."
Page 350--Added comma after "said" in--"You must not wear the same
thing twice running," she said, "not if you can help it."
Page 355--Changed period to question mark after "next" in--Who is
next? Major Banks? Take care, Daisy, or you'll do some mischief."
Page 374--Deleted comma after "see" in--Nevertheless, it was pleasant
to see the firm, still attitude, the fine proportions, the military
nicety of all his dress, which I had before noticed on the parade
ground.
Page 386--Changed subtance to substance in--men of business, men of
character and some substance,
Page 407--Changed "weel" to "well" in--"You may as well sit down and
tell us."