Daisy
pleasure and comfort it was to me to see him; but I think I said
nothing.
"It is near the time now when you always leave Magnolia, is it not?"
"Very near now."
"Would it trouble you to have the time a little anticipated?"
I looked at him, in much doubt what this might mean. The doctor
fumbled in his breast pocket and fetched out a letter.
"Just before your father sailed for China, he sent me this. It was
some time before it reached me; and it was some time longer before I
could act upon it."
He put a letter in my hand, which I, wondering, read. It said, the
letter did, that papa was not at ease about me; that he was not
satisfied with my aunt's report of me, nor with the style of my late
letters; and begged Dr. Sandford would run down to Magnolia at his
earliest convenience and see me, and make inquiry as to my well-being;
and if he found things not satisfactory, as my father feared he might,
and judge that the rule of Miss Pinshon had not been good for me on
the whole, my father desired that Dr. Sandford would take measures to
have me removed to the North and placed in one of the best schools
there to be found; such a one as Mrs. Sandford might recommend. The
letter further desired that Dr. Sandford would keep a regular watch
over my health, and suffer no school training nor anything else to
interfere with it; expressing the writer's confidence that Dr.
Sandford knew better than any one what was good for me.
"So you see, Daisy," the doctor said, when I handed him back the
letter, "your father has constituted me in some sort your guardian
until such time as he comes back."
"I am very glad," I said, smiling.
"Are you? That is kind. I am going to act upon my authority
immediately, and take you away."
"From Magnolia?" I said breathlessly.
"Yes. Wouldn't you like to go and see Melbourne again for a little
while?"
"Melbourne!" said I; and I remember how my cheeks grew warm.
"But--will Miss Pinshon go to Melbourne?"
"No; she will not. Nor anywhere else, Daisy, with my will and
permission, where you go. Will that distress you very much?"
I could not say yes, and I believe I made no answer, my thoughts were
in such a whirl.
"Is Mrs. Sandford in Melbourne--I mean, near Melbourne--now?" I asked
at length.
"No, she is in Washington. But she will be going to the old place
before long. Would you like to go, Daisy?"
I could hardly tell him. I could hardly think. It began to rush over
me, that this parting from Magnolia was likely to be for a longer time
than usual. The river murmured by--the sunlight shone on the groves on
the hillside. Who would look after my poor people?
"You like Magnolia after all?" said the doctor. "I do not wonder, so
far as Magnolia goes, you are sorry to leave it."
"No," I said, "I am not sorry at all to leave Magnolia; I am very
glad. I am only sorry to leave--some friends."
"Friends?" said the doctor.
"Yes."
"How many friends?"
"I don't know," said I. "I think there are a hundred or more."
"Seriously?"
"Oh yes," I said. "They are all on the place here."
"How long will you want, Daisy, to take proper leave of these
friends?"
I had no idea he was in such practical haste; but I found it was so.
CHAPTER VIII.
EGYPTIAN GLASS.
It became necessary for me to think how soon I could be ready, and
arrange to get my leave-takings over by a certain time. Dr. Sandford
could not wait for me. He was an army surgeon now, I found, and
stationed at Washington. He had to return to his post and leave Miss
Pinshon to bring me up to Washington. I fancy matters were easily
arranged with Miss Pinshon. She was as meek as a lamb. But it never
was her way to fight against circumstances. The doctor ordered that I
should come up to Washington in a week or two.
I did not know till he was gone what a hard week it was going to be.
As soon as he had turned his back upon Magnolia, my leave-takings
began. I may say they began sooner; for in the morning after his
arrival, when Margaret was in my room, she fell to questioning me
about the truth of the rumour that had reached the kitchen. Jem said I
was going away, not to come back. I do not know how he had got hold of
the notion. And when I told her it was true, she dropped the pine
splinters out of her hands, and rising to her feet, besought me that I
would take her with me. So eagerly she besought me, that I had much
difficulty to answer.
"I shall be in a school, Margaret," I said. "I could not have anybody
there to wait on me."
"Miss Daisy won't never do everything for herself?"
"Yes, I must," I said. "All the girls do."
"I'd hire out then, Miss Daisy, while you don't want me--I'd be right
smart--and I'd bring all my earnin's to you regular. 'Deed I will!
Till Miss Daisy want me herself."
I felt my cheeks flush. She would bring _her_ earnings to _me_. Yes,
that was what we were doing.
"'Clar, Miss Daisy, do don't leave me behind! I could take washin' and
do all Miss Daisy's things up right smart--don't believe they knows
how to do things up there!--I'll come to no good if I don't go with
Miss Daisy, sure."
"You can be good here as well as anywhere, Margaret," I said.
"Miss Daisy don' know. Miss Daisy, s'pose the devil walkin' round
about a place; think it a nice place fur to be good in?"
"The devil is not in Magnolia more than anywhere else," I said.
"Dere Mass' Edwards--" Margaret said half under her breath. Even in my
room she would not speak the name out loud.
The end of it was, that I wrote up to Washington to Dr. Sandford to
ask if I might take the girl with me; and his answer came back, that
if it were any pleasure to me I certainly might. So that matter was
settled. But the parting with the rest was hard. I do not know
whether it was hardest for them or for me. Darry blessed me and prayed
for me. Maria wept over me. Theresa mourned and lamented. Tears and
wailings came from all the poor women who knew me best and used to
come to the Sunday readings: and Pete took occasion to make private
request, that when I was grown, or when at any time I should want a
manservant, I would remember and send for him. He could do anything,
he said; he could drive horses or milk cows or take care of a garden,
or _cook_. It was said in a subdued voice, and though with a gleam of
his white circle of teeth at the last-mentioned accomplishment, it was
said with a depth of grave earnestness which troubled me. I promised
as well as I could; but my heart was very sore for my poor people,
left now without anybody, even so much as a child, to look after their
comfort and give them any hopes for one world or the other.
Those heavy days were done at last. Margaret was speedy with my
packing; a week from the time of Dr. Sandford's coming, I had said my
last lesson to Miss Pinshon, read my last reading to my poor people,
shaken the last hand-shakings; and we were on the little steamer
plying down the Sands river.
I think I was wearied out, for I remember no excitement or interest
about the journey, which ought to have had so much for me. In a
passive state of mind I followed Miss Pinshon from steamer to station;
from one train of cars to another; and saw the familiar landscape flit
before me as the cars whirled us on. At Baytown we had been joined by
a gentleman who went with us all the rest of the way; and I began by
degrees to comprehend that my governess had changed her vocation, and
instead of taking care, as heretofore, was going to be taken care of.
It did not interest me. I saw it, that was all. I saw Margaret's
delight, too, shown by every quick and thoughtful movement that could
be of any service to me, and by a certain inexpressible air of
deliverance which sat on her, I cannot tell how, from her bonnet down
to her shoes. But her delight reminded me of those that were not
delivered.
I think of all the crushing griefs that a young person can be called
to bear, one of the sorest is the feeling of wrongdoing on the part of
a beloved father or mother. I was sure that my father, blinded by old
habit and bound by the laws of the country, did not in the least
degree realise the true state of the matter. I knew that the real
colour of his gold had never been seen by him. Not the less, _I_ knew
now that it was bloody; and what was worse, though I do not know _why_
it should be worse, I knew that it was soiled. I knew that greed and
dishonour were the two collectors of our revenue, and _wrong_ our
agent. Do I use strong words? They are not too strong for the feelings
which constantly bore upon my heart, nor too bitter; though my
childish heart never put them into such words at the time. That my
father did not know, saved my love and reverence for him; but it did
not change anything else.
In the last stage of our journey, as we left a station where the train
had stopped, I noticed a little book left on one of the empty seats of
the car. It lay there and nobody touched it: till we were leaving the
car at Alexandria and almost everybody had gone out, and I saw that it
lay there still and nobody would claim it. In passing I took it up. It
was a neat little book, with gilt edges, no name in it, and having its
pages numbered for the days of the year. And each page was full of
Bible words. It looked nice. I put the book in my pocket; and on board
the ferry-boat opened it again, and looked for the date of the day in
March where we were. I found the words--"He preserveth the way of his
saints." They were the words heading the page. I had not time for
another bit; but as I left the boat this went into my heart like a
cordial.
It was a damp, dark morning. The air was chill as we left the little
boat cabin; the streets were dirty; there was a confusion of people
seeking carriages or porters or baggage or custom; then suddenly I
felt as if I had lighted on a tower of strength, for Dr. Sandford
stood at my side. A good-humoured sort of a tower he looked to me, in
his steady, upright bearing; and his military coat helped the
impression of that. I can see now his touch of his cap to Miss
Pinshon, and then the quick glance which took in Margaret and me. In
another minute I had shaken hands with my governess, and was in a
carriage with Margaret opposite me; and Dr. Sandford was giving my
baggage in charge to somebody. And then he took his place beside me
and we drove off. And I drew a long breath.
"Punctual to your time, Daisy," said the doctor. "But what made you
choose such a time? How much of yourself have you left by the way?"
"Miss Pinshon liked better to travel all night," I said, "because
there was no place where she liked to stop to spend the night."
"What was your opinion on that subject?"
"I was more tired than she was, I suppose."
"Has she managed things on the same system for the four years past?"
The doctor put the question with such a cool gravity, that I could not
help laughing. Yet I believe my laughing was very near crying. At
first he did so put me in mind of all that was about me when I used
to see him in that time long before. And an inexpressible feeling of
comfort was in his presence now; a feeling of being taken care of. I
had been looked after, undoubtedly, all these years--sharply looked
after; there was never a night that I could go to sleep without my
governess coming in to see that I was in my room, or in bed, and my
clothes in order, and my light where it ought to be. And my aunt had
not forgotten me, nor her perplexities about me. And Preston had
petted me when he was near. But even Preston sometimes lost sight of
me in the urgency of his own pleasure or business. There was a great
difference in the strong hand of Dr. Sandford's care; and if you had
ever looked into his blue eyes, you would know that they forgot