CHAPTER XIII.
GREY COATS.
I went back to school comforted. I had got strength to face all thatmight be coming in the future. And life has been a different thing tome ever since. Paul's words, "I can do all things through Christ,"--Ihave learned are not his words any more than mine.
From that time I grew more and more popular in the school. I cannottell why; but popularity is a thing that grows upon its own growth. Itwas only a little while before my companions almost all made a pet ofme. It is humbling to know that this effect was hastened by some ofthe French dresses my mother had sent me, and which convenienceobliged me to wear. They were extremely pretty; the girls came roundme to know where I got them, and talked about who I was; and "DaisyRandolph," was the name most favoured by their lips from that timeuntil school closed. With the exception, I must add, of my fourroom-mates. Miss St. Clair held herself entirely aloof from me, andthe others chose her party rather than mine. St. Clair never lost, Ithink, any good chance or omitted any fair scheme to provoke me; butall she could do had lost its power. I tried to soften her; butFaustina was a rock to my advances. I knew I had done irreparablewrong that evening; the thought of it was almost the only trouble Ihad during those months.
An old trouble was brought suddenly home to me one day. I was told aperson wanted to speak to me in the lower hall. I ran down, and foundMargaret. She was in the cloak and dress I had bought for her; lookingat first very gleeful, and then very business-like, as she brought outfrom under her cloak a bit of paper folded with something in it.
"What is this?" I said, finding a roll of bills.
"It's my wages, Miss Daisy. I only kept out two dollars, ma'am--Iwanted a pair of shoes so bad--and I couldn't be let go about thehouse in them old shoes with holes in 'em; there was holes in both of'em, Miss Daisy."
"But your wages, Margaret?" I said--"I have nothing to do with yourwages."
"Yes, Miss Daisy--they belongs to master, and I allowed to bring 'emto you. They's all there so fur. It's all right."
I felt the hot shame mounting to my face. I put the money back inMargaret's hand, and hurriedly told her to keep it; we were not atMagnolia; she might do what she liked with the money; it was her ownearnings.
I shall never forget the girl's confounded look, and then her grin ofbrilliant pleasure. I could have burst into tears as I went up thestairs, thinking of others at home. Yet the question came too, wouldmy father like what I had been doing? He held the girl to be hisproperty and her earnings his earnings. Had I been giving Margaret alesson in rebellion, and preparing her to claim her rights at somefuture day? Perhaps. And I made up my mind that I did not care. Liveupon stolen money I would not, any more than I could help. But was Inot living on it all the while? The old subject brought back! Iworried over it all the rest of the day, with many a look forward andback.
As the time of the vacation drew near, I looked hard for news of myfather and mother, or tidings of their coming home. There were none.Indeed, I got no letters at all. There was nothing to cause uneasiness;the intervals were often long between one packet of letters and the next;but I wanted to hear of some change now that the school year was ended.It had been a good year to me. In that little world I had met and facedsome of the hardest temptations of the great world; they could never benew to me again; and I had learned both my weakness and my strength.
No summons to happiness reached me that year. My vacation was spentagain with my Aunt Gary, and without Preston. September saw me quietlysettled at my studies for another school year; to be gone through withwhat patience I might.
That school year had nothing to chronicle. I was very busy, verypopular, kindly treated by my teachers, and happy in a smooth courseof life. Faustina St. Clair had been removed from the school; to someother I believe; and with her went all my causes of annoyance. Theyear rolled round, my father and mother in China or on the high seas;and my sixteenth summer opened upon me.
A day or two before the close of school, I was called to the parlourto see a lady. Not my aunt; it was Mrs. Sandford; and the doctor waswith her.
I had not seen Mrs. Sandford, I must explain, for nearly a year; shehad been away in another part of the country, far from New York.
"Why, Daisy!--is this Daisy?" she exclaimed.
"Is it not?" I asked.
"Not the old Daisy. You are so grown, my dear!--so--That's right,Grant; let us have a little light to see each other by."
"It is Miss Randolph--" said the doctor, after he had drawn up thewindow shade.
"Like her mother! isn't she? and yet, not like--"
"Not at all like."
"She is, though, Grant; you are mistaken; she _is_ like her mother;though as I said, she isn't. I never saw anybody so improved. My dear,I shall tell all my friends to send their daughters to Mme. Ricard."
"Dr. Sandford," said I, "Mme. Ricard does not like to have the sunshine into this room."
"It's Daisy, too," said the doctor, smiling, as he drew down the shadeagain. "Don't _you_ like it, Miss Daisy?"
"Yes, of course," I said; "but she does not."
"It is not at all a matter of course," said he; "except as you areDaisy. Some people, as you have just told me, are afraid of the sun."
"Oh, that is only for the carpets," I said.
Dr. Sandford gave me a good look, like one of his looks of old times,that carried me right back somehow to Juanita's cottage.
"How do you do, Daisy?"
"A little pale," said Mrs. Sandford.
"Let her speak for herself."
I said I did not know I was pale.
"Did you know you had head-ache a good deal of the time?"
"Yes, Dr. Sandford, I knew that. It is not very bad."
"Does not hinder you from going on with study?"
"Oh no, never."
"You have a good deal of time for study at night, too, do younot?--after the lights are out."
"At night? how did you know that? But it is not always _study_."
"No. You consume also a good deal of beef and mutton, nowadays? Youprefer substantials in food as in everything else?"
I looked at my guardian, very much surprised that he should see allthis in my face, and with a little of my childish fascination aboutthose steady blue eyes. I could not deny that in these days I scarcelylived by eating. But in the eagerness and pleasure of my pursuits Ihad not missed it, and amid my many busy and anxious thoughts I hadnot cared about it.
"That will do," said the doctor. "Daisy, have you heard lately fromyour father or mother?"
My breath came short as I said no.
"Nor have I. Failing orders from them, you are bound to respect mine;and I order you change of air, and to go wherever Mrs. Sandfordproposes to take you."
"Not before school closes, Dr. Sandford?"
"Do you care about that?"
"My dear child," said Mrs. Sandford, "we are going to West Point--andwe want to take you with us. I know you will enjoy it, my dear; and Ishall be delighted to have you. But we want to go next week."
"Do you care, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford repeated.
I had to consider. One week more, and the examination would be overand the school term ended. I was ready for the examination; I expectedto keep my standing, which was very high; by going away now I shouldlose that, and miss some distinction. So at least I thought. I foundthat several things were at work in my heart that I had not known werethere. After a minute I told Mrs. Sandford I would go with her whenshe pleased.
"You have made up your mind that you do not care about staying to theend here?" said the doctor.
"Dr. Sandford," I said, "I believe I _do_ care; but not about anythingworth while."
He took both my hands, standing before me, and looked at me, Ithought, as if I were the old little child again.
"A course of fresh air," he said, "will do you more good than a courseof any other thing just now. And we may find 'wonderful things' atWest Point, Daisy."
"I expect you will enjoy it, Daisy,"
Mrs. Sandford repeated.
There was no fear. I knew I should see Preston, at any rate; and I hadbeen among brick walls for many months. I winced a little at thethought of missing all I had counted upon at the close of term; but itwas mainly pride that winced, so it was no matter.
We left the city three or four days later. It was a June day--can Iever forget it? What a brilliance of remembrance comes over me now?The bustle of the close schoolrooms, the heat and dust of the sunnycity streets, were all left behind in an hour; and New York wasnowhere! The waves of the river sparkled under a summer breeze; thewall of the palisades stretched along, like the barriers of fairyland;so they seemed to me; only the barrier was open and I was about toenter. So till their grey and green ramparts were passed, and thebroader reaches of the river beyond, and as evening began to draw inwe came to higher shores and a narrower channel, and were threadingour way among the lights and shadows of opposing headlands andhilltops. It grew but more fresh and fair as the sun got lower. Then,in a place where the river seemed to come to an end, the "Pipe ofPeace" drew close in under the western shore, to a landing. Buildingsof grey stone clustered and looked over the bank. Close under thebank's green fringes a little boat-house and large clean wooden pierreceived us; from the landing a road went steeply sloping up. I see itall now in the colours which clothed it then. I think I enteredfairyland when I touched foot to shore. Even down at the landing,everything was clean and fresh and in order. The green branches ofthat thick fringe which reached to the top of the bank had no dust onthem; the rocks were parti-coloured with lichens; the river wasbright, flowing and rippling past; the "Pipe of Peace" had pushed offand sped on, and in another minute or two was turning the point, andthen--out of sight. Stillness seemed to fill the woods and the air asthe beat of her paddles was lost. I breathed stillness. New York wasfifty miles away, physically and morally at the antipodes.
I find it hard to write without epithets. As I said I was infairyland; and how shall one describe fairyland?
Dr. Sandford broke upon my reverie by putting me into the omnibus. Butthe omnibus quite belonged to fairyland too; it did not go rattlingand jolting, but stole quietly up the long hill; letting me enjoy aview of the river and the hills of the opposite shore, coloured asthey were by the setting sun, and crisp and sharp in the cool Juneair. Then a great round-topped building came in place of my view; theroad took a turn behind it.
"What is that?" I asked the doctor.
"I am sorry, Daisy, I don't know. I am quite as ignorant as yourself."
"That's the riding-hall," I heard somebody say.
One omnibus full had gone up before us; and there were only two orthree people in ours besides our own party. I looked round, and sawthat the information had been given by a young man in a sort ofuniform; he was all in grey, with large round gilt buttons on hiscoat, and a soldier's cap. The words had been spoken in a civil tone,that tempted me on.
"Thank you!" I said. "The riding-hall!--who rides in it?"
"We do," he said, and then smiled,--"The cadets."
It was a frank smile and a pleasant face and utterly the look of agentleman. So, though I saw that he was very much amused, either athimself or me, I went on--
"And those other buildings?"
"Those are the stables."
I wondered at the neat beautiful order of the place. Then, the omnibusslowly mounting the hill, the riding-hall and stables were lost tosight. Another building, of more pretension, appeared on our lefthand, on the brow of the ascent; our road turned the corner round thisbuilding, and beneath a grove of young trees the gothic buttresses andwindows of grey stone peeped out. Carefully dressed green turf, withgravelled walks leading from different directions to the doors, lookedas if this was a place of business. Somebody pulled the string hereand the omnibus stopped.
"This is the library," my neighbour in grey remarked; and with thatrising and lifting his cap, he jumped out. I watched him rapidlywalking into the library; he was tall, very erect, with a fine freecarriage and firm step. But then the omnibus was moving on and Iturned to the other side. And the beauty took away my breath. Therewas the green plain girded with trees and houses, beset with hills,the tops of which I could see in the distance, with the evening lightupon them. The omnibus went straight over the plain; green and smoothand 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 offthe grass there; but then we passed within a hedge enclosure and drewup at the hotel steps.
"Have you met an acquaintance already, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford asked ashe 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 andthrough the hall, out to the piazza at the north side of the house. Iwas in fairyland surely! I had thought so before, but I knew it now.Those grand hills, in the evening colours, standing over against eachother on the east and on the west, and the full magnificent riverlying between them, bright and stately, were like nothing I had everseen or imagined. My memory goes back now to point after point ofdelight which bewildered me. There was a dainty little sail sweepingacross just at the bend of the river; I have seen many since; I neverforget that one. There was a shoulder of one of the eastern hills,thrown out towards the south-west, over which the evening light fellin a mantle of soft gold, with a fold of shadow on the other side. Thetops of those eastern hills were warm with sunlight, and here andthere a slope of the western hills. There was a point of the lowerground, 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 ofthe hills, a white church spire rose as sharp as a needle. It is allbefore 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 itthen.
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 hadbeen engaged beforehand, and its window looked over the same view Ihad seen from the piazza. I took my post at this window while waitingfor Mrs. Sandford. Cooler and crisper the lights, cooler and grayerthe shadows had grown; the shoulder of the east mountain had lost itsmantle of light; just a gleam rested on a peak higher up; and mysingle white sail was getting small in the distance, beating up theriver. I was very happy. My school year, practically, was finished,and I was vaguely expecting some order or turn of affairs which wouldjoin me to my father and mother. I remember well what a flood ofsatisfied joy poured into my heart as I stood at the window. I seemedto 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 thenbeing so enriched and tasting the deep treasures of heaven and earthwhich I had been made to know, happy so exceedingly--it came to myheart with a kind of pang, the longing to make others know what Iknew; and the secret determination to use all my strength as Christ'sservant--in bringing others to the joy of the knowledge of Him.
I was called from my window then, and my view was exchanged for thecrowded dining-room, where I could eat nothing. But after tea we gotout upon the piazza again, and a soft north-west breeze seemed to befood and refreshment too. Mrs. Sandford soon found a colonel and ageneral 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 thinkyou shall sleep?"
"I don't feel like it now. I do not generally get sleepy till a greatwhile 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 fr
om school?"
"On some accounts. I like school too, Dr. Sandford; but there are somethings I do not like."
"That remark might be made, Daisy, about every condition of life withwhich I am acquainted."
"I could not make it just now," I said. He smiled.
"Have you secured a large circle of friends among yourschoolmates,--that are to last for ever?"
"I do not think they love me well enough for that," I said, wonderingsomewhat at my guardian's questioning mood.
"Nor you them?"
"I suppose not."
"Why, Daisy," said Mrs. Sandford, "I am surprised! I thought you usedto 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 thenI remembered he had the right. I gave him Miss Cardigan's name andnumber.
"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 notknow 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, youalways used to answer me, in times when there was no duty in thecase."
"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, verykind to me and everybody; very rich, I believe; and very wise, Ithink. 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 veryunwillingly; for I knew the conclusions that would be drawn.
"Is it likely," Dr. Sandford said slowly, "that the daughter of amarketwoman should be a good friend in every respect for the daughterof Mrs. Randolph?"
"It may not be _likely_," I answered with equal slowness;--"but it istrue."
"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 arebetter apart."
I was silent. If Miss Cardigan was not of my class, I knew I wanted tobe of hers. There were certain words running in my head about "a royalpriesthood, a peculiar people," and certain other words too--which Ithought it was no use to tell Dr. Sandford.
"She has no family, you say, nor friends who live with her, or whomyou 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 donot doubt you have formed a philosophy of your own by this time. Praymake 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. Indulgeme, Daisy."
So I thought I had better.
"Dr. Sandford--if you will indulge me. What is _your_ notion ofdignity?"
He passed his hand over his hair, with a comical face. It was a veryfine 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 thecharacter, and of sweetness, too. I was glad he had asked me thequestion, 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 knowwhat makes it."
"Yes, but you think some people, or some classes, are set up aboveothers."
"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 Imean 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 highestlevel of all. The Lord Jesus said, 'Whosoever shall do the will of myFather which is in heaven, the same is MY BROTHER, and MY SISTER, andMOTHER.' I want to be one of those."
"But, Daisy," said Dr. Sandford, "the society of the world is notarranged 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 alittle concern in his words, only half hid by the tone.
"You do not suppose that such words as those you quoted just now, weremeant 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 havemy friends among those whom the King will call His sisters andbrothers."
"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 gowithout 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 theyare seldom found."
"You do not know the society I speak of, Dr. Sandford; and MissCardigan has all these, more or less; besides something a great dealbetter."
Dr. Sandford rose up suddenly and introduced me to a Captain Southgatewho came up; and the conversation ran upon West Point things andnothings after that. I was going back over my memory, to find in howfar religion had been associated with some other valued things in theinstances 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 wasthe first. My old Juanita had the manners of a princess, and the tactof 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 thestables of Magnolia--my friend Maria, in the kitchen of the greathouse--the other sable and sober faces that came around theirs inmemory's grouping--they were not educated nor polished nor elegant.Yet well I knew, that having owned Christ before men, He would ownthem before the angels of heaven; and what would they be in that day!I was satisfied to be numbered with them.
I slept, as Dr. Sandford had prophesied I would that night. I awoke toa vision of beauty.
My remembrance of those days that followed is like a summer morning,with a diamond hanging to every blade of grass.
I awoke suddenly, that first day, and rushed to the window. The light hadbroken, the sun was up; the crown of the morning was upon the heads ofthe hills; here and there a light wreath of mist lay along their sides,floating slowly off, or softly dispersing; the river lay in quiet
beautywaiting for the gilding that should come upon it. I listened--the brisknotes of a drum and fife came to my ear, playing one after anotherjoyous and dancing melody. I thought that never was a place so utterlydelightsome as this place. With all speed I dressed myself, noiselessly,so as not to waken Mrs. Sandford; and then I resolved I would go out andsee if I could not find a place where I could be by myself; for in thehouse there was no chance of it. I took Mr. Dinwiddie's Bible and stoledownstairs. From the piazza where we had sat last night, a flight ofsteps led down. I followed it and found another flight, and stillanother. The last landed me in a gravelled path; one track went down thesteep face of the bank, on the brow of which the hotel stood; anothertrack crossed that and wound away to my right, with a gentle downwardslope. I went this way. The air was delicious; the woods were musicalwith birds; the morning light filled my pathway and glancing from treesor rocks ahead of me, lured me on with a promise of glory. I seemed togather the promise as I went, and still I was drawn farther and farther.Glimpses of the river began to show through the trees; for all this bankside was thickly wooded. I left walking and took to running. At last Icame out upon another gravelled walk, low down on the hillside, lyingparallel with the river and open to it. Nothing lay between but somemasses of granite rock, grey and lichened, and a soft fringe of greenunderbrush and small wood in the intervals. Moreover, I presently found acomfortable seat on a huge grey stone, where the view was uninterruptedby any wood growth; and if I thought before that this was fairyland, Inow almost thought myself a fairy. The broad river was at my feet; themorning light was on all the shores, sparkled from the granite rocksbelow me and flashed from the polished leaves, and glittered on thewater; filling all the blue above with radiance; touching here and therea little downy cloud; entering in and lying on my heart. I shall neverforget it. The taste of the air was as one tastes life and strength andvigour. It all rolled in on me a great burden of joy.
It was not the worst time or place in the world to read the Bible. Buthow all the voices of nature seemed to flow in and mix with thereading, I cannot tell, no more than I can number them; the whirr of abird's wing, the liquid note of a wood thrush, the stir and movementof a thousand leaves, the gurgle of rippling water, the crow's call,and the song-sparrow's ecstasy. Once or twice the notes of a buglefound their way down the hill, and reminded me that I was in a placeof delightful novelty. It was just a fillip to my enjoyment, as Ilooked on and off my page alternately.
By and by I heard footsteps, quick yet light footsteps, sounding onthe gravel. Measured and quick they came; then two figures rounded apoint close by me. There were two, but their footfalls had sounded asone. They were dressed alike, all in grey, like my friend in theomnibus. As they passed me, the nearest one hastily pulled off hiscap, and I caught just a flash from a bright eye. It was the same. Ilooked after them as they left my point and were soon lost behindanother; thinking that probably Preston was dressed so and had beentaught to walk so; and with renewed admiration of a place where theinhabitants kept such an exquisite neatness in their dress and movedlike music. There was a fulness of content in my mind, as at length Islowly went back up my winding path to the hotel, warned by thefurious sounds of a gong that breakfast was in preparation.
As I toiled up the last flight of steps I saw Dr. Sandford on thepiazza. His blue eye looked me all over and looked me through, I felt.I was accustomed to that, both from the friend and the physician, andrather liked it.
"What is on the other side of the house?" I asked.
"Let us go and see." And as we went, the doctor took my book from myhand to carry it for me. He opened it, too, and looked at it. On theother side or two sides of the house stretched away the level greenplain. At the back of it, stood houses half hidden by trees; indeedall round two sides of the plain there was a border of buildings andof flourishing trees as well. Down the north side, from the hotelwhere we were, a road went winding: likewise under arching trees; hereand there I could see cannon and a bit of some military work. All thecentre of the plain was level and green, and empty; and from the hotelto the library stretched a broad strip of bare ground, brown anddusty, alongside of the road by which we had come across last night.In the morning sun, as indeed under all other lights and at all otherhours, this scene was one of satisfying beauty. Behind the row ofhouses at the western edge of the plain, the hills rose up, green andwooded, height above height; and an old fortification stood out nowunder the eastern illumination, picturesque and grey, high up amongthem. As Dr. Sandford and I were silent and looking, I saw anothergrey figure pass down the road.
"Who are those people that wear grey, with a black stripe down theleg?" I asked.
"Grey?" said the doctor. "Where?"
"There is one yonder under the trees," I said, "and there was one inthe omnibus yesterday. Are those the cadets?"
"I suppose so."
"Then Preston wears that dress. I wonder how I shall find him, Dr.Sandford?"
"Find whom?" said the doctor, waking up.
"My cousin Preston--Preston Gary. He is here."
"Here?" repeated the doctor.
"Yes--he is a cadet--didn't you know it? He has been here a longwhile; he has only one more year, I believe. How can we find him, Dr.Sandford?"
"I am ignorant, Daisy."
"But we must find him," I said, "for of course he will want to see me,and I want to see him, very much."
The doctor was silent, and I remember an odd sense I had that he wasnot pleased. I cannot tell how I got it; he neither did nor saidanything to make me think so; he did not even look anywise differentfrom usual; yet I felt it and was sure of it, and unspeakablymystified at it. Could Preston have been doing anything wrong? Yet thedoctor would not know that, for he was not even aware that Preston wasin the Military Academy till I told him.
"I do not know, Daisy," he said at last; "but we can find out. I willask Captain Southgate or somebody else."
"Thank you," I said. "Who are those, Dr. Sandford, those others dressedin dark frock coats, with bright bars over their shoulders?--like thatone just now going out of the gate?"
"Those are officers of the army."
"There are a good many of them. What are they here for? Are there manysoldiers here?"
"No--" said the doctor, "I believe not. I think these gentlemen areput here to look after the grey coats--the cadets, Daisy, The cadetsare here in training, you know."
"But that officer who just went out--who is walking over the plainnow--he wore a sword, Dr. Sandford; and a red sash. They do not allwear them. What is that for?"
"What is under discussion?" said Mrs. Sandford, coming out. "How wellDaisy looks this morning, don't she?"
"She has caught the military fever already," said the doctor. "Ibrought her here for a sedative; but I find it is no such matter."
"Sedative!" said Mrs. Sandford; but at this instant my ears were"caught" by a burst of music on the plain. Mrs. Sandford broke into afit of laughter. The doctor's hand touched my shoulder.
"Get your hat, Daisy," he said, "I will go with you to hear it."
I might tell of pleasure from minute to minute of that day, and of thedays following. The breath of the air, the notes of the wind instruments,the flicker of sunlight on the gravel, all come back to me as I write,and I taste them again. Dr. Sandford and I went down the road I havedescribed, leading along the edge of the plain at its northern border;from which the view up over the river, between the hills, was veryglorious. Fine young trees shaded this road; on one side a deep hollow orcup in the green plain excited my curiosity; on the other, lying a littledown the bank, a military work of some odd sort planted with guns. Thenone or two pyramidal heaps of cannon-balls by the side of the road,marked this out as unlike all other roads I had ever traversed. At thefarther side of the plain we came to the row of houses I had seen from adistance, which ran north and south, looking eastward over all the plain.The road which skirted these houses was shaded with large old trees, andon the edge of the greensward under the trees we
found a number of ironseats placed for the convenience of spectators. And here, among manyothers, Dr. Sandford and I sat down.
There was a long line of the grey uniforms now drawn up in front ofus; at some little distance; standing still and doing nothing, that Icould see. Nearer to us and facing them stood a single grey figure; Ilooked hard, but could not make out that it was Preston. Nearer still,stood with arms folded one of those whom the doctor had said were armyofficers; I thought, the very one I had seen leave the hotel; but alllike statues, motionless and fixed. Only the band seemed to have somelife in them.
"What is it, Dr. Sandford?" I whispered, after a few minutes ofintense enjoyment.
"Don't know, Daisy."
"But what are they doing?"
"I don't know, Daisy."
I nestled down into silence again, listening, almost with a doubt ofmy own senses, as the notes of the instruments mingled with the summerbreeze and filled the June sunshine. The plain looked most beautiful,edged with trees on three sides, and bounded to the east, in front ofme, by a chain of hills soft and wooded, which I afterwards found werebeyond the river. Near at hand, the order of military array, the flashof a sword, the glitter of an epaulette, the glance of red sashes hereand there, the regularity of a perfect machine. I said nothing more toDr. Sandford; but I gathered drop by drop the sweetness of the time.
The statues broke into life a few minutes later, and there was a stirof business of some sort; but I could make out nothing of what theywere doing. I took it on trust, and enjoyed everything to the fulltill the show was over.