havethem made in two minutes. Don't you want to go, Daisy? I amsure you do; and I am sure Grant will take famous good care ofus, and you specially, and show us the camps and everything.And don't you want to see the President?"
"I have seen him."
"When, and where?"
"In the street - when he went through, on his way toWashington."
"Well, I don't care much for Presidents; but this one they sayso many different things about, that it makes me curious.Don't you want to see him again?"
"Yes - I would like it."
"Then you'll come with me - I see it; and I'll have everythingin readiness. Thursday, does your school-work end? then wewill go Saturday. You will want one day perhaps, besides, theysay Friday is unlucky. I never go a journey on Friday."
"I would as lieve go Friday as any day," I said.
"Oh, well - Saturday will be soon enough; and now good-bye, mydear; you to your work and I to mine. You are beautiful, mydear Daisy!" she added, kissing me.
I wondered if it was true. If it was, I was glad, forThorold's sake. I knew it would be a pleasure to him. And tomy father and mother also; but that brought other thoughts,and I went off to my studies.
CHAPTER II.
AT THE RENDEZVOUS.
The examination was over and school ended for me, before I hadone half hour to spare to go to see Miss Cardigan. Theexamination had passed as I could have wished it might; allhad gone well; and I could afford to put by that whole trainof thought, even as I put up my school-books and stowed themaway; being things that I should not immediately want again.Some time would pass, it was likely, before I would need torefresh my memory with mathematics or philosophy. My music wasanother matter, and I kept that out.
I put my books hastily as well as securely away; and then tookmy hat and rushed over to Miss Cardigan's. It was a very warmJune day. I remember now the cool feeling of her marble hall.Miss Cardigan sat in her matted parlour, busy as always,looking quiet and comfortable in a white muslin wrapper, andneat as a pin; also an invariable thing. Something in thepeaceful, settled, calm air of the place impressed me, Isuppose, with a feeling of contrast; of an uninvaded,undisturbed domain, which changes were not threatening. I hadgone over the street hurriedly; I walked into the room with aslow step.
"Daisy! my dear child!" Miss Cardigan exclaimed, - "is it you?and is all over? I see it is. Just sit down, and you shallhave some strawberries; you look tired, my love."
I sat still, and waited, and eat my strawberries.
"Miss Cardigan," I said at length, "what is Christian'saddress in Washington?"
"In Washington? I don't know. Did he never give it to you?"
"No, ma'am; nothing except 'Washington.' "
"I suppose that is enough. Haven't you written to him?"
"I have written once. - I have been thinking, Miss Cardigan,that I must stop the writing."
"Altogether?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"His writing too?"
"Yes. My father and mother do not know - and I cannot askthem, - and -"
"You are right," Miss Cardigan answered sorrowfully. "And yetyou will let your engagement stand, Daisy?"
"I cannot break my part of it, ma'am. I - nor they - cannotchange what is, and what has been done. The future is in theirhands - or in God's hands, rather."
Miss Cardigan sighed.
"And what then, dear, about the address?" she said.
"Because, Miss Cardigan, I am going there. I am going toWashington."
She stopped her work to look at me.
"I am going Saturday. My guardian has sent for me. It is verystrange, Miss Cardigan; but I must go; and I thought I wouldlike to know in what part of the city Christian is."
"Will you write to let him know? You will, of course. Writejust as usual, child; the letter will reach him."
"Why should I, Miss Cardigan? what use? He cannot come to seeme."
"Why not?"
"I would not dare. My guardian watches me well; and he wouldnot like my seeing Mr. Thorold of all people."
"Why not? Ah, child! there is a rose leaf in each of yourcheeks this minute. That tells the story. Then, Daisy, you hadbetter not go to Washington. Christian will not bear that verywell; and it will be hard for you too. My dear, it will behard."
"Yes, ma'am - and hard not to go. I shall go, Miss Cardigan."
"And mayn't I tell him you are there?"
"No, ma'am. If I can, I will let him know somehow."
But a sense of the difficulties, dangers, doubts anduncertainties, thronging my way, therewith pressed heavilyupon me; and I sat in silence and weariness, while MissCardigan put up her work and ordered tea, and finally went offto her greenhouse. Presently she came back with a rose in herhand and held it under my face. It was a full dewy sweetdamask rose, rich and fragrant and lovely as such a rose canbe. I took it and looked at it.
"Do ye mind," my old friend said, "how the flowers spoke toyou and brought you messages, when Daisy was a child yet andfirst came to see me?"
"I know - I remember," I said.
"Does that no tell you something?"
"What does it tell me?" I said, scarce able to command mywords, under the power of association, or memory, which waslaying its message on my heart, though it was a flower thatbore the message. Inanimate things do that sometimes - Ithink, often, - when the ear of the soul is open to hear them;and flowers in especial are the Lord's messengers and speakwhat He gives them. I knew this one spoke to me.
"Listen, and see," Miss Cardigan said.
I looked, and as I looked, these words came up in my mind -
"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"
"The Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him."
And still as I looked, I remembered, - "In all theirafflictions He was afflicted;" - and, "My God shall supply allyour need, according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus."The words came into my head; but apart from the words, therose seemed to say all these things to me. People who neverheard flowers talk would think me fanciful, I suppose.
"And you will go to that city of trouble, and you will not letChristian know?" Miss Cardigan said after a while.
"Yes ma'am. - No ma'am," I answered.
"Suppose he should be angry about it?"
"Does he get angry?" I asked; and his aunt laughed.
"Does the child think he is perfect?"
"No, certainly," I said; "of course he has faults; but, MissCardigan, I did not think anger was one of them, - or gettingangry."
"He will never get angry with you, Daisy, it is my firmbelief."
"But does he, easily, with other people?"
"There! I don't know," she said. "He used to be gay quick withhis temper, for all so gentle as he is. I wouldn't try him toofar, Daisy, with not letting him know."
"I cannot tell him -" I said, sighing.
For I knew, better than she did, what thorough good care wouldbe taken of me, and what small mercy such a visitor as Mr.Thorold would meet at the hands of my guardians. So with adoubtful heart I kissed Miss Cardigan, and went back over theway to prepare for my journey. Which was, however, thrown overby a storm till the next week.
The journey made my heart beat, in spite of all my doubts. Itwas strange, to see the uniforms and military caps whichsprinkled every assemblage of people, in or out of the cars.They would have kept my thoughts to one theme, even ifwandering had been possible. The war, - the recruiting for thewar, - the coming struggle, - the large and determinedpreparation making to meet it, - I saw the tokens of thesethings everywhere, and heard them on every hand. The longday's ride to Washington was a long fever dream, as it seemsto me now; it seemed a little so to me then.
It was dark when we reached Washington; but the thought thatnow became present with me, that anywhere Thorold might be,could scarce be kept in check by the reflection that hecertainly would not be at the railway station. He was notthere; and Dr. Sandford was; and a carriage presently conveyedus to the house where rooms for us were provided.
Not a hotel,I was sorry to find. By no chance could I see Thoroldelsewhere than in a hotel.
Supper was very full of talk. Mrs. Sandford wanted to knoweverything; from the state of the capital and the militarysituation and prospects for the nation, to the openings forenjoyment or excitement which might await ourselves. Thedoctor answered her fast enough; but I noticed that he oftenlooked at me.
"Are you tired?" he asked me at length; and there was a toneof gentle deference in his question, such as I often heardfrom Dr. Sandford. I saw that my silence struck him.
"Nonchalant," said Mrs. Sandford, half laughing.