crowd upon everybody?" I said, remembering whatstrange ones life had lately brought to me.
"Everybody does not see them - does not know it. You have thispeculiarity, that you will not fail to note every one thatcomes within your knowledge. Europe will be a wonder galleryto you. And life, perhaps."
"Oh, life is now, Dr. Sandford."
He had been looking very grave. He smiled at me then, one ofhis bright, winsome smiles that the child Daisy used to get.It made my heart sore with longing for him, and sorrow.
"Isn't it a wonder, that I live, and that I shall live forever?" I said. "That this world is only the portal to glory?Isn't it a wonder, that there is a highway from these lowgrounds to Heaven's court, and that the gates of brass andbars of iron that stopped the way, are broken asunder? Isn'tit a wonder, that the Prince of Heaven came down to open theway and to show it to us? and is there any wonder so great, asthat, after this, any mortal should refuse to walk that way?"
"Grant Sandford, to wit!" said the doctor with an oddexpression, something between pleased and displeased. "I amafraid, Daisy, he would want an angel to go before him afterall."
I remember this little talk well, for it puzzled me and didnot seem like Dr. Sandford. I remember nothing else of anyinterest till we came to Switzerland and I was near myjourney's end. We had pushed on, sometimes by night and day;stopping only for necessary meals and refreshment. I wanted nodelay. When we reached the glories of the Swiss mountains,even yet distant, my mood oddly changed, and I was no longerin a hurry. My life, I knew, would take a new turn, in amongthose mountains somewhere; and it might not, I had a shrewdsuspicion that it would not, be a turn for my ease andcomfort; and even while I was as eager as ever to see myfather and mother, at the same time I was willing to take thelast steps of the way more slowly, and enjoy what I had andwhat I hoped for together, before reality should displaceanticipation. This is my understanding of the mood as I lookback to it; at the time I did not reason, but only wasconscious of being ready to linger and willing to lose nothingof novelty and beauty on my way. However, lingering was notpossible. By one conveyance and another we pushed our way on,till Lucerne, our place of destination, was reached.
I saw nothing in the town, almost literally, while we weremaking our way through its streets. I was in a breathlessstate; my senses could not play, or my mind could receive noimpression from them. It was disappointment and relief too,when coming to the house where my father and mother lived, wewere told that the family were gone out of town on someexcursion and would not be back till evening. The servantstold us. This was no hotel, but a nice little private housewhich my father had hired and where he and my mother wereliving entirely at home.
I knew I was at home, as my feet pressed the stairs going upto the little drawing-room. "At home." Not since we leftMelbourne had the exquisite sensation come over me. It camenow like a subtle perfume, pervading and surroundingeverything. My eyes filled with tears of great joy, as Imounted the stairs. I would not let Dr. Sandford see them. He,I knew, felt like anything but crying for joy. He wascertainly very honestly fond of me and of my company, and Iwas grateful for it.
The servant led us to a little drawing-room, out of whichanother opened; over the simple furniture of which my mother'shand had thrown a spell of grace. And luxurious enjoyment too;that belonged to her. A soft rug or two lay here and there; ashawl of beautiful colour had fallen upon a chair-back;pictures hung on the walls, - one stood on an easel in acorner; bits of statuary, bronzes, wood-carvings, trifles ofart, mosaics, engravings, were everywhere; and my mother'spresence was felt in the harmony which subdued and united allthese in one delicious effect. My mother had almost anOriental eye for colour and harmony. It was like seeing a bitof her, to be in her room. I lost my head for a moment,standing in the middle of the floor; then I turned to Dr.Sandford.
"Now you are happy," he said, extending his hand - "and I willleave you."
"No, Dr. Sandford - you will sit down and be happy too."
"You could command me to sit down, undoubtedly; but I amafraid my happiness is beyond your power."
"I wish it was not!" I said earnestly. "You have been verygood to me, Dr. Sandford."
His face flushed a little and paled, and the eyes which wereso fond of reading other people's seemed now to shun beingread. I could not understand his expression, but it troubledme.
"Happiness is always beyond other people's power," I said; -"but not beyond one's own."
"That's your confounded theory!" he answered, bringing theword out very gingerly and with a little laugh. "I beg tenthousand pardons, Daisy; but a slight expression ofindignation was an unavoidable indulgence just then. You wouldmake every one responsible for all the troubles that come uponhim!"
"No - only for their effect upon his happiness," I ventured,doubtfully.
"You think the effect of troubles upon happiness is thenoptional!" - he said, with a humorous expression so cool andshrewd that I could not forbear laughing.
"I do not mean exactly that."
"Your words were well chosen to produce that impression."
"No, Dr. Sandford - yes, perhaps they were; - but the realtruth is, that we may have a happiness that is beyond thereach of trouble. So much is optional."
"With Daisy Randolph," said the doctor. "For the rest of theworld, a brown study will never be a golden reflection." Heheld out his hand as he spoke.
"But are you going?" I said; - "before my father and mothercome home?"
"I will call before I leave Lucerne."
"How soon do you expect to do that?"
"Immediately, Daisy; to-morrow. I must hasten back to my post,you know; before there is another Bull Run, if possible. It isvery good that you are out of the way of such things," hesaid, eyeing me earnestly. "The very mention of them - do youknow what it does?"
"It gives me a great feeling of pain, I know," I said, tryingto rally.
"It does that, I see. I did not know the power of imaginationwas so strong in you. I thought you were rather a literalist."
"And I think I am," I answered as calmly as I could. "It doesnot require much imagination. It did not, when I was inWashington."
"It does not now," said the doctor; "for your cheeks have notgot back their colour yet. What banished it, Daisy?"
It was the old tone and look I used to meet in my childhood,and to which I always then rendered obedience. For an instantthe spell was upon me now; then I threw it off, shook handswith the doctor and parted from him with a bow and smile whichtold him nothing. And he succumbed in his turn; made me aprofound reverence and left the room.
My first feeling was of gladness that he was gone. My nextwas, the sense that I was under my natural guardians oncemore. I felt it with a thrill of delight, even though I had afull consciousness that I was going to be far less my ownmistress than for some time I had been accustomed to findmyself. Dr. Sandford rather took laws from me, in most things.This however did not give me much concern. I went round therooms to quiet myself, for I was growing more and moreexcited. I went studying one by one the objects in the littlehome museum, for such those drawing-rooms were to me. I read,not natural history but family history in them; here myfather's hand had been, here By mother's, leaving some tokenof study, or luxury, or art, or feeling. A very handsomemeerschaum seemed to give also a hint of my brother'spresence. The home review did not quiet me; I found it wouldnot do; I went to the window. And there I sat downimmediately, to hear all that nature said to me; as once MissCardigan's flowers.
I had expected to see the town; and it was part of the town nodoubt that stretched away before me, but it had rather thebeauty of the country. There was nothing regular in streets orbuildings, nor compact; the houses scattered away down thehill, standing here and there, alone and in groups, withfields or pieces of fields intermingling. Pretty houses, withquaint dormer windows and high sloping roofs. We were on aheight, I found, from which the eye went down delightfullyover this bit of the rambling old town. A courtyard, withgrass and young trees, was t
he first thing next the house onthis side; which I found was not the front; then the groundfell sharply, and most of the houses stood upon a level belowbordering the lake. A stretch of the lake lay there, smooth,still, bearing the reflection of some houses on its oppositeedge; where softened under a misty atmosphere another littletown seemed to rest on a rising bank. And then, just behindit, rose the mountain, looking down upon lake and towns as ifto forbid a thought of foolishness in any one who should everlive there. So, in its beautiful gravity, Mont Pilatte seemedto me, then and always. Are not mountains always witnesses forGod? This first time I saw it, a misty cloud had swept acrossthe breast of the mountain and hid part of the outline;