Daisy
nothing. They had always fascinated me; they did now.
Mrs. Sandford was not up when we got to the house where she was
staying. It was no matter, for a room was ready for me; and Dr.
Sandford had a nice little breakfast brought, and saw me eat it, just
as if I were a patient. Then he ordered me to bed, and charged
Margaret to watch over me, and he went away, as he said, till luncheon
time.
I drew two or three long breaths as Margaret was undressing me; I felt
so comfortable.
"Are Miss Pinshon done gone away, Miss Daisy?" my handmaid asked.
"From Magnolia? yes."
"Where she gwine to?"
"I don't know."
"Then she don't go furder along the way we're goin'?"
"No. I wonder, Margaret, if they will have any prayer-meetings in
Magnolia now?" For with the mention of Magnolia my thoughts swept
back.
"'Spect the overseer have his ugly old way!" Margaret uttered with
great disgust. "Miss Daisy done promise me, I go 'long with Miss
Daisy?" she added.
"Yes. But what makes _you_ want to get away from home more than all
the rest of them?"
"Reckon I'd done gone kill myself, s'pose Miss Daisy leave me there,"
the girl said gloomily. "If dey send me down South, I _would_."
"Send you South!" I said; "they would not do that, Margaret."
"Dere was man wantin' to buy me--give mighty high price, de overseer
said." In excitement Margaret's tongue sometimes grew thick, like
those of her neighbours.
"Mr. Edwards has no right to sell anybody away from the place," I
insisted, in mixed unbelief and horror.
"Dunno," said Margaret. "Don't make no difference, Miss Daisy. Who
care what he do? Dere's Pete's wife--"
"Pete's wife?" said I. "I didn't know Pete was married! What of Pete's
wife?"
"Dat doctor will kill me, for sure!" said Margaret, looking at me.
"Do, don't, Miss Daisy! The doctor say you must go right to bed, now.
See! you ain't got your clothes off."
"Stop," said I. "What about Pete's wife?"
"I done forget. I thought Miss Daisy knowed. Mebbe it's before Miss
Daisy come home."
"What?" said I. "What?"
"It's nothin', Miss Daisy. The overseer he done got mad with Pete's
wife and he sold her down South, he did."
"Away from Pete?" said I.
"Pete, he's to de old place," said Margaret, laconically. "'Spect he
forgot all about it by dis time. Miss Daisy please have her clothes
off and go to bed?"
There was nothing more to wait for. I submitted, was undressed; but
the rest and sleep which had been desired were far out of reach now.
Pete's wife?--my good, strong, gentle, and I remembered always
_grave_, Pete! My heart was on fire with indignation and torn to
pieces with sorrow, both at once. Torn with the helpless feeling too
that I could not mend the wrong. I do not mean this individual wrong,
but the whole state of things under which such wrong was possible. I
was restless on my bed, though very weary. I would rather have been up
and doing something, than to lie and look at my trouble; only that
being there kept me out of the way of seeing people and of talking.
Such things done under my father and mother's own authority,--on their
own land--to their own helpless dependants; whom yet it was _they_
made helpless and kept subject to such possibilities. I turned and
tossed, feeling that I _must_ do something, while yet I knew I could
do nothing. Pete's wife! And where was she now? And _that_ was the
secret of the unvarying grave shadow that Pete's brow always wore. And
now that I had quitted Magnolia, no human friend for the present
remained to all that crowd of poor and ignorant and needy humanity.
Even their comfort of prayer forbidden; except such comfort as each
believer might take by himself alone.
I did not know, I never did know till long after, how to many at
Magnolia that prohibition wrought no harm. I think Margaret knew, and
even then did not dare tell me. How the meetings for prayer were not
stopped. How watch was kept on certain nights, till all stir had
ceased in the little community; till lights were out in the overseer's
house (and at the great house, while we were there); and how then,
silently and softly from their several cabins, the people stole away
through the woods to a little hill beyond the cemetery, quite far out
of hearing or ken of anybody; and there prayed, and sang too, and
"praised God and shouted," as my informant told me; not neglecting all
the while to keep a picket watch about their meeting-place, to give
the alarm in case anybody should come. So under the soft moonlight
skies and at depth of night, the meetings which I had supposed broken
up, took new life, and grew, and lived; and prayers did not fail; and
the Lord hearkened and heard.
It would have comforted me greatly if I could have known this at the
time. But, as I said, I supposed Margaret dared not tell me. After a
long time of weary tossing and heartache, sleep came at last to me;
but it brought Pete and his wife and the overseer and Margaret in new
combinations of trouble; and I got little refreshment.
"Now you have waked up, Miss Daisy?" said Margaret when I opened my
eyes. "That poundin' noise has done waked you!"
"What noise?"
"It's no Christian noise," said Margaret. "What's the use of turnin'
the house into a clap of thunder like that? But a man was makin' it o'
purpose, for I went out to see; and he telled me it was to call folks
to luncheon. Will you get up, Miss Daisy?"
Margaret spoke as if she thought I had much better lie still; but I
was weary of the comfort I had found there and disposed to try
something else. I had just time to be ready before Dr. Sandford came
for me and took me to his sister-in-law. Mrs. Sandford welcomed me
with great kindness, even tenderness; exclaimed at my growth; but I
saw by her glance at the doctor that my appearance in other respects
struck her unfavourably. He made no answer to that, but carried us off
to the luncheon-room.
There were other people lodging in the house besides my friends; a
long table was spread. Dr. Sandford, I saw, was an immense favourite.
Questions and demands upon his attention came thick and fast from both
ends and all sides of the table; about all sorts of subjects and in
all manner of tones, grave and gay. And he was at home to them all,
but in the midst of it never forgot me. He took careful heed to my
luncheon; prepared one thing, and called for another; it reminded me
of a time long gone by; but it did not help me to eat. I could not
eat. The last thing he did was to call for a fresh raw egg, and break
it into a half glass of milk. With this in his hand we left the
dining-room. As soon as we got to Mrs. Sandford's parlour he gave it
to me and ordered me to swallow it. I suppose I looked dismayed.
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Sandford. "Let me have it beaten up for her,
Grant, with some sugar; she can't take it so."
"Daisy has done harder things," he said.
I saw he expected me to drink it, and so I did, I do not know how.
"Thank you," he said smiling, as he took the glass. "Now sit down and
I will talk to you."
"How she is growing tall, Grant!" said Mrs. Sandford.
"Yes," said he. "Did you sleep well, Daisy?"
"No, sir; I couldn't sleep. And then I dreamed."
"Dreaming is not a proper way of resting. So tired you could not
sleep?"
"I do not think it was that, Dr. Sandford."
"Do you know what it was?"
"I think I do," I said, a little unwillingly.
"She is getting very much the look of her mother," Mrs. Sandford
remarked again. "Don't you see it, Grant?"
"I see more than that," he answered. "Daisy, do you think this
governess of yours has been a good governess?"
I looked wearily out of the window, and cast a weary mental look over
the four years of algebraics and philosophy at the bright little child
I saw at the further end of them.
"I think I have grown dull, Dr. Sandford," I said.
He came up behind me, and put his arms round me, taking my hand in
his, and spoke in quite a different tone.
"Daisy, have you found many 'wonderful things' at Magnolia?"
I looked up, I remember, with the eagerness of a heart full of
thoughts, in his face; but I could not speak then.
"Have you looked through a microscope since you have been there, and
made discoveries?"
"Not in natural things, Dr. Sandford."
"Ha!" said the doctor. "Do you want to go and take a drive with me?"
"Oh yes!"
"Go and get ready then, please."
I had a very pleasant, quiet drive; the doctor showing me, as he said,
not wonderful things but new things, and taking means to amuse me. And
every day for several days I had a drive. Sometimes we went to the
country, sometimes got out and examined something in the city. There
was a soothing relief in it all, and in the watchful care taken of me
at home, and the absence of mathematics and philosophy. All day when
not driving or at meals, I lay on Mrs. Sandford's sofa or curled
myself up in the depth of a great easy-chair, and turned over her
books; or studied my own blue book which I had picked up in the car,
and which was so little I had Margaret to make a big pocket in my
frock to hold it. But this life was not to last. A few days was all
Mrs. Sandford had to spend in Washington.
The place I liked best to go to was the Capitol. Several times Dr.
Sandford took me there, and showed me the various great rooms, and
paintings, and smaller rooms with their beautiful adornments; and I
watched the workmen at work; for the renewing of the building was not
yet finished. As long as he had time to spare, Dr. Sandford let me
amuse myself as I would; and often got me into talks which refreshed
me more than anything. Still, though I was soothed, my trouble at
heart was not gone. One day we were sitting looking at the pictures in
the great vestibule, when Dr. Sandford suddenly started a subject
which put the Capitol out of my head.
"Daisy," said he, "was it your wish or Margaret's, that she should go
North with you?"
"Hers," I said, startled.
"Then it is not yours particularly."
"Yes, it is, Dr. Sandford, _very_ particularly."
"How is that?" said he.
I hesitated. I shrank from the whole subject; it was so extremely sore
to me.
"I ought to warn you," he went on, "that if you take her further, she
may, if she likes, leave you, and claim her freedom. That is the law.
If her owner takes her into the free States, she may remain in them if
she will, whether he does or not."
I was silent still, for the whole thing choked me. I was quite
willing she should have her freedom, get it any way she could; but
there was my father, and his pleasure and interest, which might not
choose to lose a piece of his property; and my mother and _her_
interest and pleasure; I knew what both would be. I was dumb.
"You had not thought of this before?" the doctor went on.
"No, sir."
"Does it not change your mind about taking her on?"
"No, sir."
"Did it ever occur to you, or rather, does it not occur to you now,
that the girl's design in coming may have been this very purpose of
her freedom?"
"I do not think it was," I said.
"Even if not, it will be surely put in her head by other people before
she has been at the North long; and she will know that she is her own
mistress."
I was silent still. I knew that I wished she might.
"Do you think," Dr. Sandford went on, "that in this view of the case
we had better send her back to Magnolia when you leave Washington?"
"No," I said.
"I think it would be better," he repeated.
"Oh, no!" I said. "Oh, no, Dr. Sandford. I can't send her back. You
will not send her back, will you?"
"Be quiet," he said, holding fast the hand which in my earnestness I
had put in his; "she is not my servant; she is yours; it is for you to
say what you will do."
"I will not send her back," I said.