Daisy in the Field | Page 5

think of him and not to write
to him; and - I can't live so. It is fair to give him and myself the chance.
It is fair that they should know him and see him before they hear what
he wants of them; or at least before they answer it."
"Give him and yourself the chance - of what, Daisy?"
"I don't know," I said faint-heartedly. "Of what time may do."
"Then you think -my dear, you augur ill of your father's and mother's
opinion of your engagement?"
"I can't help it now, Miss Cardigan," I said; and I know I spoke firmly
then. "I did not know what I was doing - I did not know what was
coming. If I had known, if I could have helped myself, I think I ought
not to have loved anybody or let anybody speak to me without my
father and mother choosing it; but it was all done before I could in the
least help it; and you know I cannot help it now. I owe something
besides to them now. I will not disobey them in anything I can help; -
but I will be true, - as long as I live."
Miss Cardigan sat a long while silent, holding my hand all the while;
sometimes clasping, and sometimes fondling it. Then she turned and
kissed me. It was very hard to bear, all of it.
"I suppose you are a great heiress," she said at last; as if the words
escaped her, and with a breath of a sigh.
"It is not that!" I exclaimed. "No, I am not. I am not - I shall not be a
great heiress, or an heiress at all, I think. Christian is richer than I."

"My dear!" said Miss Cardigan. "Christian never said a word to me
about it, but your friend Mrs. Sandford - she told me; she told me you
would be one of the richest women in your State."
"She thought so," - I said.
"My dear, your parents are very wealthy; and they have only one other
child, Mrs. Sandford told me. I remember, for it took me with a pity at
my heart, little Daisy, for you."
"Yes, they are wealthy," I said; "and Ransom, my brother, is the only
other one. He will be rich. But I shall not."
"Do you mean he is the favourite?" said Miss Cardigan.
"Oh, no!" I said. "At least, if he is, so am I. It isn't that. But I shall
never be an heiress, Miss Cardigan. I shall be very poor, I rather think."
I smiled at her as I said these words - they were upon the first pleasant
subject that had been touched for some time between us; and Miss
Cardigan looked quite bewildered. I remembered she had good reason;
and I thought it was right, though very much against my will, to explain
my words.
"You know what makes my father and mother rich?" I said.
"My dear!" said Miss Cardigan - "They have large Southern
properties."
"And you know what makes Southern wealth?" I went on.
"Rice - cotton -"
"No, it isn't that," I said.
"What then, my dear? I do not know what you mean. I thought it was
mainly cotton."
"It is unpaid labour," I said. "It is hands that ought to work for

themselves; and men and women that ought to belong to themselves."
"Slaves," said Miss Cardigan. "But, Daisy, what do you mean? It's all
true; but what can you do?"
"I can have nothing to do with it. And I will have nothing. I would
rather be poor, as poor as old Darry and Maria, than take what belongs
to them. Miss Cardigan, so would you."
She settled herself back in her chair, like a person who has got a new
thought. "My dear child!" she said. And then she said nothing more. I
did not wish she should. I wanted no counsel, nor to hear any talk about
it. I had only spoken so much, as thinking she had a right to hear it. I
went back into my own meditations.
"Daisy, my child," she said suddenly after a while, - "there is only one
thing to be said; and the word is not mine. 'If the world hate you, ye
know that it hated me before it hated you."
"Why, Miss Cardigan," said I, smiling, "do you think the, world will
hate me for such a thing?"
"It hates all those who pretend to tell it is wrong."
"I do not pretend to tell it anything," I said.
"There is no preaching like that of the life. Daisy, have you well
considered this matter?"
"For years."
"Then I'll know how to pray for you," she said. And there