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 found my books,
and had thrown myself down on the floor with one of them; 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 to me next
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 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 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 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 was 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
and looked at me (I thought afterward, 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 let me. Have
you two known each other long?"
"It seems long," I said. "It is not very long."
"Since before 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 away 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
beside 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 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 one 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 Oh, 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 the 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
armchair 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 weel 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-fire thousand
men, Christian?"
"Put down treason, if he can. Don't you realise 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 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 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?"
"Ay, 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 took the bearings of my present
position, and got calmed and quieted. I think they were silver
hours while I lay there, if time is ever made of such
material; not golden, for my happiness was not quite so
perfect. There were many things to temper it.
I rose up the minute the 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 a long 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 early 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."
"Then?"
I was silent.
"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 come 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 fill 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 I
was ashamed to have to do that, but he liked it. 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 hid, "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 touching my cheek
as one who meant to keep his advantage. But 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 as I
for a while.
"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. Oh, Christian, won't you?"
"What shall my watchword be?" said he, looking into my eyes.
But I was intent on something else then.
"Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus," I
answered.
"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, straightened
himself, and I saw Miss Cardigan just entering.
"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
roughnesses 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
Note by the transcriber :
DAISY is the continuation of MELBOURNE HOUSE. There is a further
continuation as DAISY IN THE FIELD.