Daisy
as if this was a place of business. Somebody pulled the string here
and the omnibus stopped.
"This is the library," my neighbour in grey remarked; and with that
rising and lifting his cap, he jumped out. I watched him rapidly
walking into the library; he was tall, very erect, with a fine free
carriage and firm step. But then the omnibus was moving on and I
turned to the other side. And the beauty took away my breath. There
was the green plain girded with trees and houses, beset with hills,
the tops of which I could see in the distance, with the evening light
upon them. The omnibus went straight over the plain; green and smooth
and fresh, it lay on the one side and on the other side of us,
excepting one broad strip on the right. I wondered what had taken off
the grass there; but then we passed within a hedge enclosure and drew
up at the hotel steps.
"Have you met an acquaintance already, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford asked as
he handed me out.
"An acquaintance?" said I. "No, but I shall find him soon, I suppose."
For I was thinking of Preston. But I forgot Preston the next minute.
Mrs. Sandford had seized my hand and drew me up the piazza steps and
through the hall, out to the piazza at the north side of the house. I
was in fairyland surely! I had thought so before, but I knew it now.
Those grand hills, in the evening colours, standing over against each
other on the east and on the west, and the full magnificent river
lying between them, bright and stately, were like nothing I had ever
seen or imagined. My memory goes back now to point after point of
delight which bewildered me. There was a dainty little sail sweeping
across just at the bend of the river; I have seen many since; I never
forget that one. There was a shoulder of one of the eastern hills,
thrown out towards the south-west, over which the evening light fell
in a mantle of soft gold, with a fold of shadow on the other side. The
tops of those eastern hills were warm with sunlight, and here and
there a slope of the western hills. There was a point of the lower
ground, thrust out into the river, between me and the eastern shore,
which lay wholly in shadow, one shadow, one soft mass of dusky green,
rounding out into a promontory. Above it, beyond it, at the foot of
the hills, a white church spire rose as sharp as a needle. It is all
before me, even the summer stillness in which my senses were wrapt.
There was a clatter in the house behind me, but I did not hear it
then.
I was obliged to go away to get ready for tea. The house was full;
only one room could be spared for Mrs. Sandford and me. That one had
been engaged beforehand, and its window looked over the same view I
had seen from the piazza. I took my post at this window while waiting
for Mrs. Sandford. Cooler and crisper the lights, cooler and grayer
the shadows had grown; the shoulder of the east mountain had lost its
mantle of light; just a gleam rested on a peak higher up; and my
single white sail was getting small in the distance, beating up the
river. I was very happy. My school year, practically, was finished,
and I was vaguely expecting some order or turn of affairs which would
join me to my father and mother. I remember well what a flood of
satisfied joy poured into my heart as I stood at the window. I seemed
to my self so very rich, to taste all that delight of hills and river;
the richness of God's giving struck me with a sort of wonder. And then
being so enriched and tasting the deep treasures of heaven and earth
which I had been made to know, happy so exceedingly--it came to my
heart with a kind of pang, the longing to make others know what I
knew; and the secret determination to use all my strength as Christ's
servant--in bringing others to the joy of the knowledge of Him.
I was called from my window then, and my view was exchanged for the
crowded dining-room, where I could eat nothing. But after tea we got
out upon the piazza again, and a soft north-west breeze seemed to be
food and refreshment too. Mrs. Sandford soon found a colonel and a
general to talk to; but Dr. Sandford sat down by me.
"How do you like it, Daisy?"
I told him, and thanked him for bringing me.
"Are you tired?"
"No--I don't think I am tired."
"You are not hungry, of course, for you can eat nothing. Do you think
you shall sleep?"
"I don't feel like it now. I do not generally get sleepy till a great
while after this."
"You will go to sleep somewhere about nine o'clock," said the doctor;
"and not wake up till you are called in the morning."
I thought he was mistaken, but as I could not prove it I said nothing.
"Are you glad to get away from school?"
"On some accounts. I like school too, Dr. Sandford; but there are some
things I do not like."
"That remark might be made, Daisy, about every condition of life with
which I am acquainted."
"I could not make it just now," I said. He smiled.
"Have you secured a large circle of friends among your
schoolmates,--that are to last for ever?"
"I do not think they love me well enough for that," I said, wondering
somewhat at my guardian's questioning mood.
"Nor you them?"
"I suppose not."
"Why, Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford, "I am surprised! I thought you used
to love everybody."
I tried to think how that might be, and whether I had changed. Dr.
Sandford interrupted my thoughts again--
"How is it with friends out of school?"
"Oh, I have none," I said; thinking only of girls like myself.
"None?" he said. "Do you really know nobody in New York?"
"Nobody,--but one old lady."
"Who is that, Daisy?"
He asked short and coolly, like one who had a right to know; and then
I remembered he had the right. I gave him Miss Cardigan's name and
number.
"Who is she? and who lives with her?"
"Nobody lives with her; she has only her servants."
"What do you know about her then, besides what she has told you?
Excuse me, and please have the grace to satisfy me."
"I know I must," I said half laughing.
"_Must?_"
"You know I must too, Dr. Sandford."
"I don't know it, indeed," said he. "I know I must ask; but I do not
know what power can force you to answer."
"Isn't it my duty, Dr. Sandford?"
"Nobody but Daisy Randolph would have asked that question," he said.
"Well, if duty is on my side, I know I am powerful. But, Daisy, you
always used to answer me, in times when there was no duty in the
case."
"I remember," I said, smiling to think of it; "but I was a child then,
Dr. Sandford."
"Oh!--Well, apropos of duty, you may go on about Miss Cardigan."
"I do not know a great deal to tell. Only that she is very good, very
kind to me and everybody; very rich, I believe; and very wise, I
think. I know nothing more--except the way her money was made."
"How was it?"
"I have heard that her mother was a marketwoman," I said very
unwillingly; for I knew the conclusions that would be drawn.
"Is it likely," Dr. Sandford said slowly, "that the daughter of a
marketwoman should be a good friend in every respect for the daughter
of Mrs. Randolph?"
"It may not be _likely_," I answered with equal slowness;--"but it is
true."
"Can you prove your position, Daisy?"
"What is your objection to her, Dr. Sandford?"
"Simply what you have told me. The different classes of society are
better apart."
I was silent. If Miss Cardigan was not of my class, I knew I wanted to
be of hers. There were certain words running in my head about "a royal
priesthood, a peculiar people," and certain other words too--which I
thought it was no use to tell Dr. Sandford.
"She has no family, you say, nor friends who live with her, or whom
you meet at her house?"
"None at all. I think she is quite alone."
There was silence again. That is, between the doctor and me. Mrs.
Sandford and her officers kept up a great run of talk hard by.
"Now, Daisy," said the doctor, "you have studied the matter, and I do
not doubt you have formed a philosophy of your own by this time. Pray
make me the wiser."
"I have no philosophy of my own, Dr. Sandford."
"Your own thus far, that nobody shares it with you."
"Is that your notion of me?" I said, laughing.
"A very good notion. Nothing is worse than commonplace people. Indulge
me, Daisy."
So I thought I had better.
"Dr. Sandford--if you will indulge me. What is _your_ notion of
dignity?"
He passed his hand over his hair, with a comical face. It was a very
fine face, as I knew long ago; even a noble face. A steady, clear,
blue eye like his, gives one a sure impression of power in the
character, and of sweetness, too. I was glad he had asked me the
question, but I waited for him to answer mine first.
"My notion of dignity!" he exclaimed. "I don't believe I have any,
Daisy."
"No, but we are talking seriously."
"Very. We always are when you are one of the talkers."
"Then please explain your notion of dignity."
"I know it when I see it," said the doctor; "but faith! I don't know
what makes it."
"Yes, but you think some people, or some classes, are set up above
others."
"So do you."
"What do you think makes the highest class, then?"
"You are going too deep, or too high, which is the same thing. All I
mean is, that certain feet which fate has planted on lofty levels,
ought not to come down from them."
"But it is good to know where we stand."
"Very," said Dr. Sandford, laughing. That is, in his way of laughing.
It was never loud.
"I will tell you where I want to stand," I went on. "It is the highest
level of all. The Lord Jesus said, 'Whosoever shall do the will of my
Father which is in heaven, the same is MY BROTHER, and MY SISTER, and
MOTHER.' I want to be one of those."
"But, Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, "the society of the world is not
arranged on that principle."
I knew it very well. I said nothing.
"And you cannot, just yet, go out of the world."
It was no use to tell Dr. Sandford what I thought. I was silent still.
"Daisy," said he, "you are worse than you used to be." And I heard a
little concern in his words, only half hid by the tone.
"You do not suppose that such words as those you quoted just now, were
meant to be a practical guide in the daily affairs of life? Do you?"
"How can I help it, Dr. Sandford?" I answered. "I would like to have
my friends among those whom the King will call His sisters and
brothers."
"And what do you think of correct grammar, and clean hands?" he asked.
"Clean hands!" I echoed.
"You like them," he said, smiling. "The people you mean often go
without them--if report says true."
"Not the people _I_ mean," I said.
"And education, Daisy; and refined manners; and cultivated tastes;
what will you do without all these? In the society you speak of they
are seldom found."
"You do not know the society I speak of, Dr. Sandford; and Miss
Cardigan has all these, more or less; besides something a great deal
better."
Dr. Sandford rose up suddenly and introduced me to a Captain Southgate
who came up; and the conversation ran upon West Point things and
nothings after that. I was going back over my memory, to find in how
far religion had been associated with some other valued things in the
instances of my experience, and I heard little of what was said. Mr.
Dinwiddie had been a gentleman, as much as any one I ever knew; he was
the first. My old Juanita had the manners of a princess, and the tact
of a fine lady. Miss Cardigan was a capital compound of sense,
goodness, business energies, and gentle wisdom. The others--well, yes,
they were of the despised orders of the world. My friend Darry, at the
stables of Magnolia--my friend Maria, in the kitchen of the great
house--the other sable and sober faces that came around theirs in
memory's grouping--they were not educated nor polished nor elegant.