[Transcriber's note: The source text contained no Chapter VIII or
Chapter XVIII.]
[Illustration: SILVER LAKE]
MELBOURNE HOUSE.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD.
"Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and
whether it be right."--PROV. xx. II.
VOL. II.
* * * * *
NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,
530 BROADWAY.
1865.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.
Stereotyped by SMITH & MCDOUGAL, 82 & 81 Beekman St.
Printer: by E.O. JENKINS, 20 North William St.
* * * * *
MELBOURNE HOUSE.
CHAPTER I.
The next day turned out so warm, that the carriage was not brought for
Daisy till late in the afternoon. Then it came, with her father and Dr.
Sandford; and Daisy was lifted in Mr. Randolph's arms and carefully
placed on the front seat of the carriage, which she had all to herself.
Her father and the doctor got in and sat opposite to her; and the
carriage drove away.
The parting with Juanita had been very tenderly affectionate and had
gone very near to Daisy's heart. Not choosing to shew this more than she
could help, as usual, Daisy at first lay still on the cushions with an
exceedingly old-fashioned face; it was as demure and sedate as if the
gravity of forty years had been over it. But presently the carriage
turned the corner into the road to Melbourne; Daisy caught sight for a
second of the houses and church, spires of Crum Elbow, that she had not
seen for so long. A pink flush rose over her face.
"What is it, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, who had been watching her.
"Papa--it's so nice to see things again!"
"You had a pretty dull time of it at Mrs. Benoit's?" remarked the
doctor.
"No--O no, I didn't. I did not have it dull at all."
"How did you escape that, Daisy?"
"I do not know, Dr. Sandford. There was no room for dulness."
The gentlemen smiled, but Daisy's father with a not altogether satisfied
expression. He grew satisfied, as he marked the changes in Daisy's face.
The ride was delightful to her. The carriage was easy; she was nicely
placed; and through the open glass before her she could look out quite
uninterruptedly. It was so pleasant, she thought, even to see the road
and the fences again. That little bit of view before Mrs. Benoit's
window she had studied over and over till she knew it by heart. Now
every step brought something new; and the roll of the carriage wheels
was itself enlivening. There was a reaped grain field; there a meadow
with cattle pasturing. Now they passed a farm wagon going home, laden
with sheaves; next came a cottage, well known but not seen for a long
time, with its wonted half door open and the cottager's children playing
about. Then came patches of woodland, with the sun shining through; and
a field of flourishing Indian corn with the sunlight all over it; then
more meadows with cattle.
"Do you ride comfortably, Daisy?" her father asked, bending over to her.
"Yes, papa. It is so nice!"
Mr. Randolph gave up care about Daisy, and the two gentlemen fell into a
conversation which did not regard her, and lasted till the carriage
stopped at the door of Melbourne House. And there was her mother, and
there were Preston and his mother and sister, and Gary McFarlane, who
had been away and come back again, all waiting to welcome her; besides
some other guests who were now at Melbourne.
Mr. Randolph, got out of the carriage first. Dr. Sandford followed him;
but then without giving place to anybody else, he himself took Daisy
carefully off the seat where she lay, lifted her out in his arms, and
carried her into the house. All the others trooped around and after
him, through the hall and into the drawing room, where the doctor laid
his little charge on the sofa and put the pillows behind her so that she
could sit up comfortably. Then he stood back and let the others come to
her. Mrs. Randolph gave her some very contented kisses; so did Mr.
Randolph. Very glad and tender his were, at having his little daughter
back there again.
"We are very much pleased to see you here, Daisy," her aunt said.
"Poor Daisy," said Eloïse.
"Glad to come back to life and the world again, Daisy?" said Preston,
standing at the back of her sofa and drumming on it.
"I understand, Daisy," said McFarlane, "that you have been an enchanted
beauty, or a sleeping princess, during these weeks of my absence--under
the guardianship of an old black witch, who drew incantations and water
together from her well every morning."
"I can answer for the incantations," said Preston. "I have heard 'em."
Daisy's face flushed all over. "Preston, you do very wrong," she said,
turning her head round to him. But Preston only burst into a fit of
laughter, which he turned away to hide. Others of the company now came
up to take Daisy's hand and kiss her and say how glad they were to see
her; these people were very much strangers to Daisy and their greeting
was no particular pleasure; but it had to be attended to. Then tea came
in, and Daisy was well petted. It was very pleasant to have it so; after
the silence and quiet of Juanita's little cottage, the lights and
dresses and people and silver urn and tea service and flowers made quite
a picture. Flowers had been in the cottage too, but not such wealth of
them. Just opposite to Daisy in the middle of the floor stood a great
stone basket, or wide vase, on a pedestal; and this vase was a mass of
beautiful flowers. Trailing wreaths of roses and fuchsias and geraniums
even floated down from the edges of the vase and sought the floor; the
pedestal was half draped with them. It was a very lovely sight to
Daisy's eyes. And then her mother ordered a little stand brought to the
sofa's side; and her father placed it; and Gary brought her cup of tea,
and Dr. Sandford spread her slice of toast. Daisy felt as if she loved
everybody, and was very happy. The summer air floated in at the long
windows, just as it used to do. It was _home_. Daisy began to realize
the fact.
Meanwhile attention ceased to be filled with her particular affairs, and
conversation flowed off as usual, away from her. Preston still held his
station at the back of the sofa, where he dipped sponge cake in tea with
a wonderful persistency; in fact the question seemed to be whether he or
the cake basket would give out first; but for a while Daisy eat her
toast in happy quiet; watching everybody and enjoying everything. Till
Gary McFarlane drew near, and took a seat, as if for a regular siege.
"So what about those incantations, Daisy?" he said.
"I do not know what you mean, Mr. McFarlane."
"No? don't you? That's odd. You have been so long in the witch's
precincts. You have heard them, of course?"
"I do not know what you mean, Mr. McFarlane."
"Why you must have been bewitched. I wonder, now, if the witch's house
did not seem to you a palace?"
"It seemed a very nice place."
"And the witch herself a sable princess?"
"I think she is a great deal better than a princess."
"Exactly so," said Gary with a perfectly sober face. "The witch drew
water, didn't she?"
"I don't know what you mean. Mrs. Benoit used to bring pails of water
from her well."
"Very good. And you never heard her incantations, muttering in the
morning before the dew was off the grass, or at night just as the first
beams of the moon, lighted on the topmost boughs of the trees?"
Daisy was confounded. "Mr. McFarlane," she said after a moment's looking
at him--"I hope I do not know what you mean."
At that, Gary McFarlane went off into an ecstacy of laughter, delighted
and amused beyond count. Preston interrupted the sponge cake exercise,
and Daisy felt her sofa shaking with his burden of amusement. What had
she done? Glancing her eye towards Dr. Sandford, who sat near, she saw
that a very decided smile was curling the corners of _his_ mouth. A
flush came up all over Daisy's face; she took some tea, but it did not
taste good any longer.
"What did you think I meant?--come Daisy, tell me," said Gary, returning
to Daisy as soon as he could get over his paroxysm of laughter. "What
did you think I meant? I shouldn't wonder if you had some private
witchcraft of your own. Come! what did you _think_ I meant?"
While he had been laughing, Daisy had been trying to get command of
herself and to get her throat clear for talking; there had been a very
uncomfortable thick feeling in it at first. Now she answered with simple
dignity and soberness,
"I did not know, Mr. McFarlane, but you meant Juanita's prayers."
"Does she pray?" said Gary innocently.
"Yes."
"Long prayers, Daisy?"
"Yes," (unwillingly now.)
"Then that must have been what you heard!" Gary said looking up to
Preston. No answer came from him. Gary was as sober now as seven judges.
"Did she speak her prayers where you could hear her, Daisy?"
"I used to hear her--"
"Mornings and evenings?"
"Yes."
"But you heard her in broad day, Preston?"
"Yes; one afternoon it was. I heard her as soon as I got near the house.
Daisy was asleep, and I went away as wise as I came."
"This grows interesting," said Gary returning to Daisy. "Could you hear
the words that were said?"
"No."
"Only a muttering?"
Daisy was silent. The tears came into her eyes.
"Depend upon it, Daisy, it was incantations you heard. Description
agrees exactly. Confess now, didn't a sort of feeling grow over
you--creep over you--whenever you heard that muttering sound, as if you
would do anything that black woman told you?"
Daisy was silent.
"Don't you know it is not proper to pray so that people can hear you?
'tisn't the way to do. Witches pray that way--not good Christian people.
I regard it as a very fortunate thing, Daisy, that we have got you safe
out of her hands. Don't you think that prayer ought to be private?"
"Yes," said Daisy. She was overwhelmed with the rapidity and liveliness
of Gary's utterances, which he rattled forth as lightly as if they had
been the multiplication table.
"Yes, just so. It is not even a matter to be talked about--too
sacred--so I am offending even against my own laws; but I wanted to know
how far the old witch had got hold of you. Didn't you feel when you
heard her mutterings, as if some sort of a spell was creeping over you?"
Daisy wished some sort of a spell could come over _him_; but she did not
know what to say.
"Didn't you gradually grow into the belief that she was a sort of saint,
Daisy?"
"What is a saint, Mr. McFarlane?"
Gary at that wheeled partly round, and stroked his chin and moustache
with the most comical expression of doubt and confusion.
"I declare I don't know, Daisy! I think it means a person who is too
good for this world, and therefore isn't allowed to live here. They all
go off in flames of some sort--may look like glory, but is very
uncomfortable--and there is a peculiar odour about them. Doctor, what is
that odour called?"
Gary spoke with absurd soberness, but the doctor gave him no attention.
"The odour of sanctity!--that is it!" said Gary. "I had forgot. I don't
know what it is like, myself; but it must be very disagreeable to have
such a peculiarity attached to one."
"How can anybody be too good for this world?" Daisy ventured.
"Too good to live in it! You can't live among people unless you live
like them--so the saints all leave the rest of the world in some way or
other; the children die, and the grown ones go missionaries or become
nuns--they are a sort of human meteor--shine and disappear, but don't
really accomplish much, because no one wants to be meteors. So your old
woman can't be a saint, Daisy, or she would have quitted the world long
ago."
Something called off Gary. Daisy was left feeling very thoroughly
disturbed. That people could talk so--and think so--about what was so
precious to her; talk about being saints, as if it were an undesirable
thing; and as if such were unlovely. Her thought went back to Juanita,
who seemed now half a world's distance away instead of a few miles; her
love and gentleness and truth and wisdom, her prayers and way of living,
did seem to Daisy somewhat unearthly in their beauty, compared with that
which surrounded her now; but so unearthly, that it could not be
understood and must not be talked about. Juanita could not be understood
here; could Daisy? She felt hurt and troubled and sorry; she did not
like to hear such talk, but Gary was about as easy to stop as a
cataract.
Dr. Sandford, lifting his eyes from what had occupied them, though his
ears had not been stopped, saw that the face of his little charge was
flushed with pain and her eyes glistening. He came and took Gary's
place, and silently felt of her hand and looked at her; but he did not
ask Daisy what was the matter, because he pretty well knew. His own
face, as usual, shewed nothing; however, Daisy's came back to its
accustomed expression.
"Dr. Sandford," said she softly, "what is a meteor?"
"Meteors are fiery stones which fall on the earth occasionally."
"Where do they come from?"
"Doctors are divided."
"But where do _you_ think they come from?"
If Dr. Sandford's vanity could be touched by a child, it received a
touch then. It was so plain, that what satisfied him would satisfy her.
He would not give the skeptical answer which rose to his lips. Looking
at the pure, wise little face which watched his, he made answer simply,
not without a smile:
"I am inclined to think they are wandering bodies, that we fall in with
now and then, in our journey round the sun."
"Dr. Sandford, what do they look like?"
"You have seen shooting-stars?"
"Yes--are those meteors?"
"Those are meteors that do not come to the earth. Sometimes they are
nearer, and look like great fire-balls."
"Have you seen them?"
"Yes, a great many."
"And have you seen them after they fell on the ground?"
"Yes."
"What are they like then?"
"A very black stone, on the outside, and made up of various metals and
earths within."
"But then, what makes them look like fire-balls, before they fall?"
"Can't tell, Daisy. As I said, the doctors are divided; and I really
have no opinion that you would understand if I gave it."
Daisy would have liked to hear all the opinions, but she did not ask for
them. Preston was still standing at the back of the sofa, and started a
new subject.
"Dr. Sandford, how soon will Daisy's foot let her go to Silver Lake?"
"In what way do you propose to get there?"
"By boat, sir, across the river; and the rest of the way is walking."
"On plain ground?"
"Not exactly!" said Preston.
"How far do you call it?"
"Three miles."
"Of walking! I think Daisy may walk across this floor by next week; and
in a little while after she may go up and down stairs."
"O doctor!" exclaimed Preston. "Why, at that rate, she cannot go to
Silver Lake at all!"
"Does she want to go very much?" said the doctor. The question was
really put at Daisy's face, and answered by a little flush that was not
a flush of pain this time. He saw what a depth of meaning there was in
it; what a charm, the sound of Silver Lake had for Daisy. No wonder, to
a little girl who had lain for so many weeks looking out of one window,
where there was not much to be seen, either.
"Who is going, Daisy?" said the doctor.
"Mamma means to make up a large party--I do not know exactly who."
"Then I think I can promise that you shall go too. You may count upon me
for that."
Daisy's eyes shone and sparkled, but she said not a word. Preston was
less sagacious.
"Will you do something to make her foot strong, sir?" he asked.
"When you have studied in my profession, you will know more about a
physician's powers,"--was all the answer he got. The doctor turned off
to conversation with other people, and Daisy was left to herself again.
She was very happy; it was very pleasant to lie there comfortably on the
sofa, and feel that her long imprisonment was over; it was amusing to
look at so many people together, after having for days and days looked
at only one; and the old wonted scene, the place and the lights, and the
flowers and the dresses, yes, and the voices, gave her the new sense of
being at home. Nevertheless, Daisy mused a little over some things that
were not altogether pleasant. The faces that she scanned had none of
them the placid nobleness of the face of her black nurse; no voice
within her hearing had such sweet modulation; and Daisy felt a
consciousness that Juanita's little cottage lay within the bounds of a
kingdom which Mrs. Randolph's drawing-room had no knowledge of.
Gradually Daisy's head became full of that thought; along with the
accompanying consciousness, that a subject of that kingdom would be
alone here and find nobody to help her.
"Daisy, what's the matter?" whispered Preston. "You are as sober as a
judge."
"Am I?" said Daisy.
"What's to pay?"
"Nothing. I feel very nicely."
"Why don't you look like other people, then?"
"I suppose," said Daisy slowly, "I do not feel like other people."
"I wish you'd make haste about it, then," said Preston.
"Do be my own dear little old Daisy! Don't be grave and wise."
"Are you going to spend the night here, Daisy?" said Dr. Sandford,
coming up to the sofa.
"No, sir," said Daisy, smiling.
"Where then?"
"I suppose, in my room, sir--up-stairs."
"I must see you there before I go; and it is time now. Shall I carry you
up?"
"If you please, sir."
"Pray do not, Dr. Sandford!" said Mrs. Randolph. "Mr. Randolph will do
it, or one of the servants. There is no occasion for you to trouble
yourself."
"Thank you, ma'am, but I like to see after my patients myself. Unless
Daisy prefers other hands."
Mrs. Randolph protested. The doctor stood quiet and looked at Daisy,
waiting for her to say what she would like. Now Daisy knew, that of all
hands which had touched her, the doctor's and Juanita's were far the
best; and of those two, the doctor's; perhaps because he was the
strongest. Her father was very kind and tender, but he did not
understand the business.
"I should like Dr. Sandford to take me," she said, when she found she
must speak.
"Then I will trouble you, Mrs. Randolph, for somebody to shew me the
way." And the doctor stooped and put his strong arms under Daisy, and
lifted her up.
"Quite a conquest, I declare, you have made, Dr. Sandford!" said Mrs.
Randolph, laughing. "Preston, shew the way, and I'll send June."
So the doctor marched off with Daisy, Preston going before to shew the
way. He carried her without the least jar or awkwardness, through the
company, out into the hall, and up the stairs. There June met him, and
took Preston's office from him. Into Daisy's own room at last they
came, and Dr. Sandford laid his little charge at once on her bed.
"You must not try to move, Daisy, until I see you again. Stay here till
then."
"Yes, sir."
"Good-night."
"Good-night. Thank you, sir, for bringing me up."
Dr. Sandford smiled. "Thank you," said he, and with a wave of his hand,
away he went.
"O June!" said Daisy, "how glad I am to see you."
June had seen Daisy only once during her abode at Mrs. Benoit's cottage;
and now Daisy squeezed her hands and welcomed the sight of her with
great affection; and June on her part, though not given to
demonstrations, smiled till her wrinkles took all sorts of queer shapes,
and even shewed her deep black eyes twinkling with something like
moisture. They certainly were; and putting the smiles and the tears
together, Daisy felt sure that June was as glad to see her as she was to
see June. In truth, Daisy was a sort of household deity to June, and she
welcomed her back accordingly, in her secret heart; but her words on
that subject, as on all others, were few. The business of undressing,
however, went on with great tenderness. When it was finished, Daisy
missed Juanita. For then Juanita had been accustomed to bring her Bible,
and read and pray; and that had been a time Daisy always enjoyed
wonderfully. Now, in bed, at night, she could not see to read for
herself. She dismissed June, and was left alone in her old room, with,
as she justly thought, a great deal to pray for. And praying, little
Daisy went to sleep.