Daisy
nor my Sunday evening readings; and, indeed, all the winter I
continued too delicate and feeble for much school work. My dreaded
governess did not have near so much to do with me as I thought she
would.
The spring was not far advanced before it was necessary for us to quit
Magnolia. The climate, after a certain day, or rather the air, was not
thought safe for white people. We left Magnolia; and went first to
Baytown and then to the North. There our time was spent between one
and another of several watering-places. I longed for Melbourne; but
the house was shut up; we could not go there. The summer was very
wearisome to me. I did not like the houses in which our time was
spent, or the way of life led in them. Neither did Miss Pinshon, I
think, for she was out of her element, and had no chance to follow
her peculiar vocation. Of course, in a public hotel, we could not have
a schoolroom; and with the coming on of warm weather my strength
failed again so sensibly, that all there was to do was to give me sea
air and bathing, and let me alone. The bathing I enjoyed; those
curling salt waves breaking over my head are the one image of anything
fresh or refreshing which my memory has kept. I should have liked the
beach; I did like it; only it was covered with bathers, or else with
promenaders in carriages and on foot, at all times when I saw it; and
though they were amusing, the beach was spoiled. The hotel rooms were
close and hot; I missed all the dainty freedom and purity of my own
home; the people I saw were, it seemed to me, entirely in keeping with
the rooms; that is, they were stiff and fussy, not quiet and busy.
They were busy after their own fashion, indeed; but it always seemed
to me busy about nothing. The children I saw too did not attract me;
and I fear I did not attract them. I was sober-hearted and low-toned
in spirit and strength; while they were as gay as their elders. And I
was dressed according to my mother's fancy, in childlike style,
without hoops, and with my hair cropped short all over my head. They
were stately with crinoline, and rich with embroidery, stiff with fine
dresses and plumes; while a white frock and a flat straw were all my
adornment, except a sash. I think they did not know what to make of
me; and I am sure I had nothing in common with them; so we lived very
much apart. There was a little variation in my way of life when
Preston came; yet not much. He took me sometimes to drive, and did
once go walking with me on the beach; but Preston found a great deal
where I found nothing, and was all the time taken up with people and
pleasures; boating and yachting and fishing expeditions; and I
believe with hops and balls too. But I was always fast asleep at those
times.
It was a relief to me when the season came to an end, and we went to
New York to make purchases before turning southward. I had once hoped,
that this time, the year's end might see my father and mother come
again. That hope had faded and died a natural death a long while ago.
Letters spoke my father's health not restored: he was languid and
spiritless and lacked vigour; he would try the air of Switzerland; he
would spend the winter in the Pyrenees! If that did not work well, my
mother hinted, perhaps he would have to try the effect of a long sea
voyage. Hope shrunk into such small dimensions that it filled but a
very little corner of my heart. Indeed, for the present I quite put it
by and did not look at it. One winter more must pass, at any rate, and
maybe a full year, before I could possibly see my father and mother at
home. I locked the door for the present upon hope; and turned my
thoughts to what things I had left with me. Chiefest of all these were
my poor friends at Magnolia. My money had accumulated during the
summer; I had a nice little sum to lay out for them, and in New York I
had chance to do it well, and to do it myself, which was a great
additional pleasure. As I could, bit by bit, when I was with Aunt Gary
shopping, when I could get leave to go out alone with a careful
servant to attend me, I searched the shops and catered and bought, for
the comfort and pleasure of--seven hundred! I could do little. Nay,
but it was for so many of those that I could reach with my weak hands;
and I did not despise that good because I could not reach them all. A
few more large-print Testaments I laid in; some copies of the Gospel
of John, in soft covers and good type; a few hymn books. All these
cost little. But for Christmas gifts, and for new things to give help
and comfort to my poor pensioners, I both plagued and bewitched my
brain. It was sweet work. My heart went out towards making _all_ the
people happy for once, at Christmas; but my purse would not stretch so
far; I had to let that go, with a thought and a sigh.
One new thing came very happily into my head, and was worth a Peruvian
mine to me, in the pleasure and business it gave. Going into a large
greenhouse with my aunt, who wanted to order a bouquet, I went
wandering round the place while she made her bargain. For my Aunt Gary
made a bargain of everything. Wandering in thought as well, whither
the sweet breath of the roses and geraniums led me, I went back to
Molly in her cottage at Melbourne, and the Jewess geranium I had
carried her, and the rose tree; and suddenly the thought started into
my head, might not my dark friends at Magnolia, so quick to see and
enjoy anything of beauty that came in their way--so fond of bright
colour and grace and elegance--a luxurious race, even in their
downtrodden condition; might not _they_ also feel the sweetness of a
rose, or delight in the petals of a tulip? It was a great idea; it
grew into a full-formed purpose before I was called to follow Aunt
Gary out of the greenhouse. The next day I went there on my own
account. I was sure I knew what I wanted to do; but I studied a long
time the best way of doing it. Roses? I could hardly transport pots
and trees so far; they were too cumbersome. Geraniums were open to the
same objection, besides being a little tender as to the cold. Flower
seeds could not be sown, if the people had them; for no patch of
garden belonged to their stone huts, and they had no time to
cultivate such a patch if they had it. I must give what would call
for no care, to speak of, and make no demands upon overtasked strength
and time. Neither could I afford to take anything of such bulk as
would draw attention or call on questions and comments. I knew, as
well as I know now, what would be thought of any plan of action which
supposed a _love of the beautiful_ in creatures the only earthly use
of whom was to raise rice and cotton; who in fact were not half so
important as the harvests they grew. I knew what unbounded scorn would
visit any attempts of mine to minister to an aesthetic taste in these
creatures; and I was in no mind to call it out upon myself. All the
while I knew better. I knew that Margaret and Stephanie could put on a
turban like no white woman I ever saw. I knew that even Maria could
take the full effect of my dress when I was decked--as I was
sometimes--for a dinner party; and that no fall of lace or knot of
ribbon missed its errand to her eye. I knew that a _picture_ raised
the liveliest interest in all my circle of Sunday hearers; and that
they were quick to understand and keen to take its bearings, far more
than Molly Skelton would have been, more than Logan, our Scotch
gardener at Melbourne, or than my little old friend Hephzibah and her
mother. But the question stood, In what form could I carry beauty to
them out of a florist's shop? I was fain to take the florist into my
partial confidence. It was well that I did. He at once suggested
bulbs. Bulbs! would they require much care? Hardly any; no trouble at
all. They could be easily transported: easily kept. All they wanted
was a little pot of earth when I was ready to plant them; a little
judicious watering; an unbounded supply of sunshine. And what sorts of
bulbs were there? I asked diplomatically; not myself knowing, to tell
truth, what bulbs were at all. Plenty of sorts, the florist said;
there were hyacinths, all colours; and tulips, striped and plain, and
very gay; and crocuses, those were of nearly all colours too; and
ranunculus, and anemones, and snowdrops. Snowdrops were white; but of
several of the other kinds I could have every tint in the rainbow,
both alone and mixed. The florist stood waiting my pleasure, and
nipped off a dead leaf or two as he spoke, as if there was no hurry
and I could take my time. I went into happy calculation, as to how far
my funds would reach; gave my orders, very slowly and very carefully;
and went away the owner of a nice little stock of tulips, narcissus,
crocuses, and above all, hyacinths. I chose gay tints, and at the same
time inexpensive kinds; so that my stock was quite large enough for my
purposes; it mattered nothing to me whether a sweet double hyacinth
was of a new or an old kind, provided it was of first-rate quality;
and I confess it matters almost as little to me now. At any rate, I
went home a satisfied child; and figuratively speaking, dined and
supped off tulips and hyacinths, instead of mutton and bread and
butter.
That afternoon it fell out that my aunt took me with her to a
milliner's on some business. In the course of it, some talk arose
about feathers and the value of them; and my aunt made a remark which,
like Wat Tyrrell's arrow, glanced from its aim and did execution in a
quarter undreamed of.
"That feather you put in the little riding cap you sent me," she said
to the milliner--"your black feather, Daisy, you know--you charged me
but fifteen dollars for that; why is this so much more?"
I did not hear the milliner's answer. My whole thought went off upon a
track entirely new to me, and never entered before My feather cost
fifteen dollars! Fifteen dollars! Supposing I had that to buy tulips
with? or in case I had already tulips enough, suppose I had it to buy
print gowns for Christmas presents to the women, which I had desired
and could not afford? Or that I had it to lay out in tea and sugar,
that my poor old friends might oftener have the one solace that was
left to them, or that more might share it? Fifteen dollars! It was
equal to one quarter and a half's allowance. My fund for more than a
third of the year would be doubled, if I could turn that black feather
into silver or gold again. And the feather was of no particular use
that I could see. It made me look like the heiress of Magnolia, my
aunt said; but neither could I see any use in _that_. Everybody knew,
that is, all the servants and friends of the family knew, that I was
that heiress; I needed no black feather to proclaim it. And now it
seemed to me as if my riding cap was heavy with undeveloped bulbs,
uncrystallized sugar, unweighed green tea. No transformation of the
feather was possible; it must wave over my brow in its old fashion,
whether it were a misguided feather or not; but my thoughts, once set
a going in this train, found a great deal to do. Truth to tell, they
have not done it all yet.
"Aunt Gary," I said that same evening, musing over the things in my
boxes, "does lace cost much?"
"That is like the countryman who asked me once, if it took long to
play a piece of music! Daisy, don't you know any more about lace than
to ask such a question?"
"I don't know what it costs, Aunt Gary. I never bought any."
"Bought! No; hardly. You are hardly at the age to _buy_ lace yet. But
you have worn a good deal of it."
"I cannot tell what it cost by looking at it," I answered.
"Well, _I_ can. And you will, one day, I hope; if you ever do anything
like other people."
"Is it costly, ma'am?"
"Your lace is rather costly," my aunt said, with a tone which I felt
implied satisfaction.