Read Daisy in the Field Page 19

butthe head lifted itself in sunlight just above the veilingcloud, and looked down in unspeakable majesty upon the lowerworld. Always my eyes went back to that wonderful mountainhead; then fell to the placid lake and the little townsleeping in misty sunlight on its further border; then caughtthe sharp pointed towers of a church or cathedral close by atmy left hand, just within my picture; I could not see thewhole church; then back to the soft veiled mountain. A morepicturesque combination never went into a view. I sat still ina trance of pleasure, only my eyes moving slowly from point topoint, and my heart and soul listening to the hidden melodieswhich in nature's great halls are always sounding. I dobelieve, for the matter of that, they are always sounding innature's least chambers as well; but there is the tinkle of asilver bell, and there is the thunder of the great organ. Atany rate I was quieted, comforted, soothed, and entirelymyself again, by the time I had listened to Mont Pilatte for acouple of hours.

  The day wore on, and the lights changed, and the clouddeepened on the mountain. The lights had not begun to fadeyet, though it was the time of long shadows, when a littlebustle below and steps on the stairs drew me away from thewindow and brought me to my feet; but I stood still. The firstone was mamma, and her first word of course broke the spellunder which I had been standing and brought me into her arms.And that word I pondered many a time afterwards. It wassimply, "Why, Daisy!" - but the letters put together tellnothing of what was in the expression. Pleasure and affectionthere were, of course; and there was something beside, which Icould not help thinking gave token of gratified surprise. Whatshould have excited it I do not know, unless it were that myappearance pleased her better than she had expected. It wasnot surprise at my being there, for the servants had told ofthat. My father, who was next, said exactly the same words;but his "Why, Daisy!" had an altogether different expression.I flung myself into his arms, and then almost broke my heartwith the thought that I had been so long out of them. Myfather pressed me very close, and kept very still. I felt mymother touch me on the shoulder, and heard her tell me not tobe so excited; but I could not mind her. And papa, sittingdown, kept me in his arms and held me fast and kissed me, andI sobbed myself into content.

  "Is that Daisy?" said mamma. I was sitting on papa's knee yet.I looked up at her. She was standing beside us.

  "Doesn't she look like it?" my father said, fondly, strokingmy hair.

  "She does not act like it," said my mother.

  But I hid my face in papa's neck at that, and he kissed meagain.

  "Don't you mean to speak to anybody else?" said mamma, with anamused voice.

  "Nobody else has any right," said papa. I looked up however,eagerly, and saw what I could only guess was Ransom, he had sogrown and changed. He was looking curious and pleased. I gotup to salute him.

  "Why, Daisy!" said he, returning my embrace with more new thanold emotion as it seemed to me, - "you are a sister of whom afellow may be proud."

  "Can't you say as much for him, Daisy?" said my mother.

  "As far as looks go -" I answered slowly, surveying him. Hewas excessively handsome, and his mother's own boy in grace ofperson and manner. I could see that in the first moment.

  "As far as looks go" - my mother repeated. "_That_ is likeDaisy. Is it the very same Daisy?"

  I looked up at her, and they looked at me. Oddly enough, wewere all silent. Had I changed so much?

  "Mamma, there is the difference between ten and seventeen," Isaid. "I don't think there is much other."

  "And between formed and unformed," said my brother Ransom; formy father and mother were still silent, and I could hardlybear to meet their eyes.

  "What is formed, and what is unformed?" I asked, trying tomake it a light question.

  "My opinion is not unformed," said Ransom, - "and your destinyis - formed."

  "Papa," said I, "Ransom is very quick in deciding upon mydestiny." But with that look into each other's eyes, Ransom'swords were forgotten; my father clasped me in a fresh fondembrace and my head went down upon his shoulder again. And wewere all still. Words are nothing at such times. I think onerather speaks light words, if any; thoughts are too deep tocome out. At last my mother remarked that our toilettes wereamong the unformed things, and suggested that we should go toour rooms for a little while before dinner. I got up frompapa's knee and followed mamma; and passing Ransom with asmile, he suddenly clasped me in his arms and kissed me.

  "I am proud of you, Daisy," he whispered.

  Arrived in mamma's room, her tenderness came out after her ownfashion. She examined me; her hands touched me caressingly;she helped me to dress, although her maid was at hand.

  "You did not tell me you had such beautiful hair," she said,when I had unbound it to put it in order.

  "Mamma!" I laughed. "Why should I?"

  "And there are a great many other things you have not toldme," she went on. I had to control myself to prevent a start,though her words meant nothing.

  "Of course, mamma," I answered.

  "Yes; you could hardly have been expected to give me acatalogue raisonn? of your advantages. Do you know themyourself, Daisy?"

  "Mamma, - I suppose I know some of them."

  "Do you know, for instance, that your skin is exquisite, incolour and texture?"

  "Mrs. Sandford used to tell me so," I said.

  My mother drew the tips of her fingers over my cheek.

  "And now, at my saying that, comes a little rose hue here, asdelicate as the inside of a shell. But you have lost all thelook of delicate condition, Daisy; this is the colour ofperfect health."

  "Dr. Sandford has taken care of me, mamma."

  "Your father trusted a great deal to Dr. Sandford. Do youthink his trust was well placed?"

  "Nobody could have taken more care of me, mamma. Dr. Sandfordhas been very good."

  "He always was your favourite," she remarked.

  "Well, mamma, he deserved all I have given him."

  "Don't give anybody much, - unless I bid you," my mother said,laughingly. "Daisy, you have matured better even than I everthought you would, or than your aunt Gary told me. Your figureis as good as ever mine was."

  She took up one of my hands, looked at it, kissed it, and asshe let it drop asked carelessly, -

  "What has become of Preston now?"

  I felt as if breakers were all around me. "He has joined theSouthern army," I said.

  "When did you see him?"

  "Not since a year ago."

  "Where then?"

  "At West Point, mamma. He only graduated this spring."

  "Were you long at West Point?"

  "Yes, ma'am - some weeks."

  "Dr. Sandford did not show remarkable care in that."

  "He thought so, mamma, for he found me not well, and took meaway immediately from school, without waiting for the term toclose. Mrs. Sandford and he, were going to West Point - and so-"

  "West Point did you good?"

  "I grew well there."

  "Your aunt tells me, your voice is very uncommon, Daisy. Isshe right in that?"

  "Mamma - you can judge better than I. It is not so easy for meto judge how it sounds."

  "You know how it sounds to you."

  "Yes, but then I am thinking of the music. I cannot tell,mamma, how it sounds to other people."

  "Well, we shall be able to judge by and by," my mother said,in a satisfied tone. "Your speaking voice is as calm and sweetas I ever heard."

  "_Calm?_ mamma," I said, laughing.

  "Yes, child. Don't you know most people's voices have a littlethread, if it is not more, of sharpness or roughness, comingout somewhere. It is sure to come out somewhere; in one formof speech or another; with some people it only appears in thelaugh, and they should never laugh. Your voice is like a chimeof bells." And my mother took me in her arms, half-dressed asI was, and pressed her lips full upon mine; looking into myface and playing with me and smiling at me; finishing withanother pressure of her mouth to mine.

  "Your lips are very sweet," she said, with a half si
gh. "Iwonder who else will think so!"

  And if one bit of vanity or self-exaltation could have beenstirred in my thoughts, though it were by my mother's praises,these last words banished it well. I was sobered to the depthsof my heart; so sobered, that I found it expedient to be busywith my dressing, and not expose my face immediately to anymore observations. And even when I went down stairs, myfather's first remark was, -

  "It is the same Daisy!"

  "Did you doubt it, papa?" I asked, with a smile.

  "No, my pet."

  "Then why do you