Daisy
"_I_ don't know," said Preston; "but if they say so, I suppose she
must. Who is it to be, mamma?"
"You do not know anything about it," said Aunt Gary. "If my son was
going to marry the greatest heiress in the State; and she is very
nearly that--goodness! I did not see you were there, Daisy, my dear;
but it makes no difference;--I should think it proper that she should
be educated."
"I can't see what her being an heiress should have to do with it,"
said Preston, "except rather to make it unnecessary as well as a bore.
Who is it, mamma?"
"I have recommended Miss Pinshon."
"Oh, then, it is not fixed yet."
"Yes, it is fixed. Miss Pinshon is coming as soon as we get to
Magnolia."
"I'll be off before that," said Preston. "Who is Miss Pinshon?"
"How should _you_ know? She has lived at Jessamine Bank,--educated the
Dalzell girls."
"What sort of a person, mamma!"
"What sort of a person?" said my Aunt Gary; "why a governess sort of a
person. What sort should she be."
"Any other sort in the world," said Preston, "for my money. That is
just the sort to worry poor little Daisy out of her life."
"You are a foolish boy!" said Aunt Gary. "Of course if you fill
Daisy's head with notions, she will not get them out again. If you
have anything of that sort to say, you had better say it where she
will not hear."
"Daisy has eyes--and a head," said Preston.
As soon as I was able for it Preston took me out for short walks; and
as I grew stronger he made the walks longer. The city was a strange
place to me; very unlike New York; there was much to see and many a
story to hear; and Preston and I enjoyed ourselves. Aunt Gary was busy
making visits, I think. There was a beautiful walk by the sea which I
liked best of all; and when it was not too cold my greatest pleasure
was to sit there looking over the dark waters and sending my whole
soul across them to that unknown spot where my father and mother were.
"Home," that spot was to me. Preston did not know what I liked the
Esplanade for; he sometimes laughed at me for being poetic and
meditative; when I was only sending my heart over the water. But he
was glad to please me in all that he could; and whenever it was not
too cold, our walks always took me there.
One day, sitting there, I remember we had a great argument about
studying. Preston began with saying that I must not mind this
governess that was coming, nor do anything she bade me unless I liked
it. As I gave him no answer, he repeated what he had said.
"You know, Daisy, you are not obliged to care what she thinks."
I said I thought I was.
"What for?" said Preston.
"I have a great deal to learn you know," I said, feeling it very
gravely indeed in my little heart.
"What do you want to know so much?" said Preston.
I said, everything. I was very ignorant.
"You are no such thing," said Preston. "Your head is full this minute.
I think you have about as much knowledge as is good for you. I mean to
take care that you do not get too much."
"O Preston," said I, "that is very wrong. I have not any knowledge
scarcely."
"There is no occasion," said Preston stoutly. "I hate learned women."
"Don't you like to learn things?"
"That's another matter," said he. "A man must know things, or he can't
get along. Women are different."
"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I. "I don't see how
it is different."
"Why, a woman need not be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a professor," said
Preston; "all she need do, is to have good sense and dress herself
nicely."
"Is dressing so important?" said I, with a new light breaking over me.
"Certainly. Ribbons of the wrong colour will half kill a woman. And I
have heard Aunt Randolph say that a particular lady was ruined by her
gloves."
"Ruined by her gloves!" said I. "Did she buy so many?"
Preston went into such a laugh at that, I had to wait some time before
I could go on. I saw I had made some mistake, and I would not renew
that subject.
"Do _you_ mean to be anything of that sort?" I said, with some want of
connection.
"What sort? Ruined by my gloves? Not if I know it."
"No, no! I mean, a lawyer or a doctor or a professor?"
"I should think not!" said Preston, with a more emphatic denial.
"Then, what are you studying for?"
"Because, as I told you, Daisy, a man must know things, or he cannot
get on in the world."
I pondered the matter, and then I said, I should think good sense
would make a woman study too. I did not see the difference. "Besides,
Preston," I said, "if she didn't, they would not be equal."
"Equal!" cried Preston. "Equal! O Daisy, you ought to have lived in
some old times. You are two hundred years old, at least. Now don't go
to studying that, but come home. You have sat here long enough."
It was my last hour of freedom. Perhaps for that reason I remember
every minute so distinctly. On our way home we met a negro funeral. I
stopped to look at it. Something, I do not know what, in the long line
of dark figures, orderly and even stately in their demeanour, the
white dresses of the women, the peculiar faces of men and women both,
fascinated my eyes. Preston exclaimed at me again. It was the
commonest sight in the world, he said. It was their pride to have a
grand funeral. I asked if _this_ was a grand funeral. Preston said
"pretty well; there must be several hundred of them and they were well
dressed." And then he grew impatient and hurried me on. But I was
thinking; and before we got to the hotel where we lodged, I asked
Preston if there were many coloured people at Magnolia.
"Lots of them," he said. "There isn't anything else."
"Preston," I said presently, "I want to buy some candy somewhere."
Preston was very much pleased, I believe, thinking that my thoughts
had quite left the current of sober things. He took me to a famous
confectioner's; and there I bought sweet things till my little stock
of money was all gone.
"No more funds?" said Preston. "Never mind--go on, and I'll help you.
Why I never knew you liked sugarplums so much. What next? burnt
almonds? _this_ is good, Daisy--this confection of roses. But you must
take all this sugar in small doses, or I am afraid it wouldn't be just
beneficial."
"O Preston!" I said--"I do not mean to eat all this myself."
"Are you going to propitiate Miss Pinshon with it? I have a
presentiment that sweets won't sweeten her, Daisy."
"I don't know what 'propitiate' means," I said, sighing. "I will not
take the almonds, Preston."
But he was determined I should; and to the almonds he added a quantity
of the delicate confection he spoke of, which I had thought too
delicate and costly for the uses I had purposed; and after the rose he
ordered candied fruits; till a great packet of varieties was made up.
Preston paid for them--I could not help it--and desired them sent
home; but I was bent on taking the package myself. Preston would not
let me do that, so he carried it; which was a much more serious token
of kindness, in him, than footing the bill. It was but a little way,
however, to the hotel. We were in the hall, and I was just taking my
sugars from Preston to carry them upstairs, when I heard Aunt Gary
call my name from the parlour. Instinctively, I cannot tell how, I
knew from her tone what she wanted me for. I put back the package in
Preston's hands, and walked in; my play over.
How well I knew my play was over, when I saw my governess. She was
sitting by my aunt on the sofa. Quite different from what I had
expected, so different that I walked up to her in a maze, and yet
seemed to recognize in that first view all that was coming after.
Probably that is fancy; but it seems to me now that all I ever knew or
felt about Miss Pinshon in the years that followed, was duly begun and
betokened in those first five minutes. She was a young-looking lady,
younger looking than she was. She had a dark, rich complexion, and a
face that I suppose would have been called handsome; it was never
handsome to me. Long black curls on each side of her face, and large
black eyes, were the features that first struck one; but I immediately
decided that Miss Pinshon was not born a lady. I do not mean that I
think blood and breeding are unseverable; or that half a dozen lady
ancestors in a direct line secure the character to the seventh in
descent; though they _do_ often secure the look of it; nevertheless,
ladies are born who never know all their lives how to make a curtsey,
and curtseys are made with infinite grace by those who have nothing of
a lady beyond the trappings. I never saw Miss Pinshon do a rude or an
awkward thing, that I remember; nor one which changed my first mind
about her. She was handsomely dressed; but there again I felt the same
want. Miss Pinshon's dresses made me think always of the mercer's
counter and the dressmaker's shop. My mother's robes always seemed
part of her own self; and so, in a certain true sense, they were.
My aunt introduced me. Miss Pinshon studied me. Her first remark was
that I looked very young. My aunt excused that, on the ground of my
having been always a delicate child. Miss Pinshon observed further
that the way I wore my hair produced part of the effect. My aunt
explained _that_ to my father's and mother's fancy; and agreed that
she thought cropped heads were always ungraceful. If my hair were
allowed to fall in ringlets on my neck I would look very different.
Miss Pinshon next inquired how much I knew? turning her great black
eyes from me to Aunt Gary. My aunt declared she could not tell;
delicate health had also here interfered; and she appealed to me to
say what knowledge I was possessed of. I could not answer. I could not
say. It seemed to me I had not learned anything. Then Preston spoke
for me.
"Modesty is apt to be silent on its own merits," he said. "My cousin
has learned the usual rudiments; and in addition to those the art of
driving."
"Of _what_? What did you say?" inquired my governess.
"Of driving, ma'am. Daisy is an excellent whip for her years and
strength."
Miss Pinshon turned to Preston's mother. My aunt confirmed and
enlarged the statement, again throwing the blame on my father and
mother. For herself, she always thought it very dangerous for a little
girl like me to go about in the country in a pony-chaise all alone.
Miss Pinshon's eyes could not be said to express anything, but to my
fancy they concealed a good deal. She remarked that the roads were
easy.
"Oh, it was not here," said my aunt; "it was at the North, where the
roads are not like our pine forest. However the roads were not
dangerous there, that I know of; not for anybody but a child. But
horses and carriages are always dangerous."
Miss Pinshon next applied herself to me. What did I know? "beside this
whip accomplishment," as she said. I was tongue-tied. It did not seem
to me that I knew anything. At last I said so. Preston exclaimed. I
looked at him to beg him to be still; and I remember how he smiled at
me.
"You can read, I suppose?" my governess went on.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And write, I suppose?"
"I do not think you would say I know how to write," I answered. "I
cannot do it at all well; and it takes me a long time."
"Come back to the driving, Daisy," said Preston. "That is one thing
you do know. And English history, I will bear witness."
"What have you got there, Preston?" my aunt asked.
"Some horehound drops, mamma."
"You haven't a sore throat?" she asked, eagerly.
"No, ma'am--not just now, but I had yesterday; and I thought I would
be provided."
"You seem provided for a long time," Miss Pinshon remarked.
"Can't get anything up at Magnolia, except rice," said Preston, after
making the lady a bow which did not promise good fellowship. "You must